I kept my gaze to the ground, fearing that if I lifted my head Livia would look at me with terrible accusation; perhaps the power of her inner fury would even fill her with voice. In the months since her eyes had reopened, I had done everything I could to keep them closed, short of poking them out with a pin. I had plunged the room into near-darkness, closing the window shutters and putting out the oil lamps. I had kept my gaze averted from her face at all times as I fed and bathed her, placing shrouds and shawls and sometimes even cushions across her eyes just to block out her stare.
But no matter what I did, I knew she could see. I knew she was conscious and I knew what she was thinking. She planned her vengeance on me. I doubled the amount of ointment I smeared upon the phallus, and then tripled it, until there was enough in her nightly doses to stun a horse into paralysis. But my domina had built up such a resistance to it that nothing I gave her would send her back to Somnus again. It was fast becoming clear that unless she somehow returned to sleep, my only option would be to kill her, my domina, whom I loved more than my own life. I would have to kill her in order to fulfil the very prophecies to which her own life had been dedicated. I would have to kill her to allow Little Boots to become the second king. If I did not, she would awaken fully and kill me, and then kill Sejanus for what he'd done to her chosen second king, Germanicus.
When it came to the prophecies, Livia placed her wishes above the divine words themselves. This had brought her disaster but she had failed to learn. I had studied the lessons instead.
'Iphicles, look at me,' said Castor with a tone that permitted no argument.
I lifted my head and Livia's vengeance-filled eyes were indeed upon me.
'We owe you a great debt for the service you have given in caring for the Augusta,' said Castor.
I opened my mouth, trying to speak.
'A great debt,' Castor repeated. 'But I fear we exploited your love for my grandmother, leaving you to care for her wholly on your own.'
I was being relieved of my duty. Castor was reading me my death sentence.
'But Iphicles wanted to look after great-grandmother all by himself,' Little Boots piped up from behind the bedhead. 'He sent the other slaves away.' He thought he was helping me with this damning defence.
'And we should never have allowed that to happen. Iphicles is too old.'
I swallowed. My mouth felt like it was full of sand. 'I don't feel old, domine,' I rasped.
Castor dismissed this and I saw a spark of malicious glee within my domina 's stare. She relished my pain — it would lead to her freedom. I threw myself onto the floor at the end of the bed. 'Please, domine,' I wailed. 'Don't take me away from her. I've given my whole life to serving my domina — I promised I'd never leave her.'
Castor's friends and supporters were disgusted by my display.
'You're old and tired,' Castor told me. 'I think you've earned a good rest.'
' Domine, please — please!' I writhed upon the tiles.
There was a long, condemning pause while I choked and sobbed. When at last I stopped, I raised my head to see that several of Castor's friends had already left the room, unable to bear me. My domina 's eyes were closed now, but she was listening, I knew. She believed she was free at last.
'You can stay then,' Castor said.
Livia's eyes sprang open.
'But I will provide you with help.'
I held my breath.
'A slave from my household will join you and take over most of your tasks. You can supervise.'
I darted a look at Little Boots. He was as shocked by the reprieve as I was.
My domina 's eyes began to narrow, calculating what this would mean for me and for her.
'Who will this slave be?' I whispered, hoping my tone conveyed the correct gratitude to Castor.
'I have a eunuch in my household. He lives to serve. I will send him here.'
My fear of being banished from ever seeing the prophecies fulfilled was gone. My courage returned and I met my domina 's eye with a level stare. But her look had a dark excitement to it now. She knew better than anyone what I was capable of, but she also knew what Castor had done. He had never intended to remove me from caring for her. Why would he? He understood that no one loved her more than I did. He knew that my obsession for her was so all-consuming that I had even sacrificed my manhood just to honour her. But all the same, he didn't trust me. Castor knew I had secrets, but he was unsure of what they were. This eunuch was to be his spy in uncovering them.
If my domina had found her voice at that moment, she would have laughed and laughed at my predicament.
'I would have thought he'd be more upset about it,' said Livilla to her husband as they ate their breakfast of wine-soaked bread.
'It's a change of scene for him — new tasks, new responsibilities,' said Castor. 'It's good to vary a slave's experiences every now and then. Keeps them interested in life, stops them becoming depressed.'
'You're too slack with them,' said Livilla.
'And you're too harsh. It's why they don't love you.'
Livilla was hurt to hear this said but tried to pretend she wasn't. 'It's better to be feared.'
'No, it isn't,' said Castor. He sat up in the dining couch, breakfast done.
Livilla's pup, Scylax, came to lick the dripping wine from her fingers. 'The eunuch is already depressed — or just plain sullen and disobedient. He used to be such a sweet-tempered boy. I don't know what's come over him lately.'
Castor had a theory but didn't bother inflaming his wife by sharing it. 'He will join our grandmother's house this morning. I have told him to pack anything he feels he might need.'
Livilla scoffed. 'The slave's got possessions now?'
'Things that might be useful in his work. Honestly, Livilla, try to think of a kind departing word you can say to Lygdus — you owe him that at least.'
Livilla glared as Castor walked out of the dining room. 'What's that supposed to mean?' she called after him. But he had gone. Livilla kissed the slender head of her beloved Laconian. 'I won't miss that fat lump,' she told the pup. 'Good riddance to him. I hope my grandmother gives him hell.'
Leaving the house to spend the morning at the magistrates' courts, Nero found Lygdus waiting in the entrance hall. The eunuch had chosen to take nothing with him, despite Castor telling him he should.
'You're leaving us, I hear?' said Nero.
Lygdus was surprised it warranted any comment. He met the young dominus 's eyes for a moment, before Nero was the first to look away. Lygdus automatically bobbed to the floor and ran a damp piece of sponge across Nero's street shoes, wiping the dust from them. 'Yes, domine,' he mumbled. 'I am being sent to the household of the Augusta.' Nero said nothing else on the matter.
When Lygdus was done, he stood, keeping his eyes downcast and waiting for Nero to walk out to join his retinue. But Nero stayed where he was. When Lygdus dared to meet the young master's eyes again, he was confused by the lack of shame or anger there. Instead there was a look to Nero's face that the eunuch barely knew. Was it affection?
'Thank you,' Nero said, 'for all that… Well, just thank you.'
Lygdus gaped. Then he felt an object placed in his hand. It was a gold aureus coin. He looked at Nero in astonishment but the young man was already joining his retinue in the street outside. When the front door closed, Lygdus stayed staring at the coin for a long time. He had never known what it was to hold such a thing. He turned the weight of it over in his palm, wrapping his fingers around it and uncurling them again to stare at the golden image of the Emperor's profile.
When the time came to make the very short journey to the Augusta's house, Lygdus left the aureus sitting in the bottom of the footbath water. Let the next foot-washing slave find it, Lygdus thought. The House of Castor had mutilated him, and now, just as they decided they should be rid of his embarrassment, they deigned to grace him with compensation. No. Lygdus had his dignity intact, if nothing else. His butchered manhood would not be paid for in gold.
But as he stepped into the daylight, Lygdus felt a pang of regret. The Augusta's household could well be worse than the home he was leaving. He would endure it, of course, no matter how bad it was. That was his lot as a slave. But how sad it would be to look back on his life and know he had rejected the one act of kindness that had not been a mask for cruelty. The young master had rewarded him out of gratitude. It wasn't hush money. Lygdus
