'Of course.' He raised his face and made a shy smile at her. 'But I miss my domina.'
Livilla rolled her eyes. 'What are we to do with you?' But she didn't move her feet when Lygdus's moist, fat fingers made contact. She allowed him to slip off her shoes.
'Perhaps I can serve two great ladies?' he whispered.
'That depends upon your master,' Livilla said, closing her eyes and sinking into a chair as Lygdus began to gently rub her feet. In truth, she had missed her attentive slave and had no intention of objecting to Livia being abandoned.
Carrying her purchases from the textile market, Livilla's maids slipped past the eunuch's bulk — one of them deliberately kicked him in the rump as she did, displeased to see him back. Lygdus barely felt it. 'What a pleasure it is to comfort you, domina,' he breathed into Livilla's toes.
She half-opened one eye and saw that Lygdus had filled a footbath. 'That looks very inviting,' she sighed. 'You think of everything. Pull it over here so that I can bathe my feet in it.'
Lygdus stiffened. 'I have this balm instead, domina.' He held up a little earthenware pot. 'It is soothing and sweet smelling.'
'Can't I bathe my feet first?'
'Try this wonderful balm — it is one of the domina Livia's.'
Livilla opened both her eyes. 'Why fill a bath for me and then not use it?'
Lygdus pressed his face into the floor. 'It is not filled for my domina,' he mumbled with the deepest apology. 'It is for my dominus. '
There was a long pause, and Lygdus felt his breath condensing on the floor mosaic.
'Is he home?' Livilla asked.
'Not yet,' said Lygdus. 'The dominus is out with his nephews.'
A dab of something cold touched Livilla's arch. She shivered. Then Lygdus's caring hands began to smooth the cream into her skin. The chill of it soon went away. 'The balm,' Lygdus said.
Livilla smelled the scent of roses. 'It is very nice,' she murmured, closing her eyes once more.
Lygdus cast a quick glance at the brimming footbath in the corner. He applied another dab of balm to Livilla's heel, making the scent of roses stronger. He breathed in deep — and Livilla did the same. 'The perfume is exquisite, isn't it, domina?'
'I adore roses,' Livilla sighed.
Lygdus sighed too — with relief. The wisps of steam from the footbath would go undetected. The eunuch had not felt wholly confident in the lies he would have told Livilla, had she asked him why the master's bathwater smelled of nettles and sour apples.
Saturnalia
December, AD 21
Two months later: Sacrovir of the Aedui, the leader of the Gallic rebellion, commits suicide at Augustodunum in the face of certain defeat
The first crack in the shell awoke my domina at once. In the blackness of her room, while my soft snores came from the pallet near her bed, Livia felt the egg turn beneath her tongue of its own accord. The crack widened. The beast was being born. Gently, Livia let the egg rise to rest upon the surface of her tongue, so that the tiny thing inside could fill her mouth when the moment came. She opened her lips, letting the night air play upon her teeth and gums while the creature struggled within.
The beast flexed itself, pressing hard against its prison and gaining strength, forcing itself free. Excitement threatened to claim Livia, but she willed herself to stay silent, making no sound that would betray the indescribable happiness she felt. The crack in the shell widened again. The beast pushed with all its might and a lid was made. The egg opened and the beast's head emerged. The tiny thing took its first breath of the scented night air.
On my pallet I stirred, as if aware in my dreams that something marvellous and new had entered the world. ' Domina…' I breathed in my sleep. 'Are you all right, domina?'
The beast in Livia's mouth went still. When I made no more sound, Livia opened her lips wide in the dark. The smell of desert sands emerged, the smell of heat and wind and beating desert sun. The newborn beast slipped past her lips and took its first view of the world. In the blackness of the room it looked around itself with cunning, vicious eyes. It was a viper, a night adder — a beast of darkness and death.
The tiny serpent slid down my domina 's cheek, nestling in the cup of her throat for a moment before it slipped inside the space between her breasts. It was her child, this beast, and it loved her as a child must love its mother. The snake encircled my domina 's nipple, its tongue flicking her skin in loving caress. Then it opened its mouth to suckle.
Livia gave a cry as the fangs met her flesh. I stirred in my sleep again. 'Are you all right, domina?' I muttered.
'Hush now,' Livia whispered in my dreams. 'My baby is feeding at my breast…'
The Kalends of March
AD 22
Three months later: Gaius Junius Silanus, governor of Asia Minor, is found guilty of offences against the majesty of Tiberius and banished to the island of Gyaros
The pantomimus danced with such a grace as Tiberius had never before seen. The beautiful youth leaped and fell and leaped again, as if his body weighed no more than a leaf. His every gesture was exquisite; his every emotion was conveyed with perfection unsurpassed.
'Obscene,' Tiberius whispered under his breath. 'This is obscene.' His hands clapped in time with the humpbacked chorus member, who wielded the clapper board and looked at him with such fixed intensity. 'This is obscene,' he muttered again.
'Uncle?'
He became aware of the shambling presence beside his curule chair. How long had it been there? He refused to acknowledge it, keeping his eyes glued to the beautiful pantomimus. 'Filth,' he said louder.
'Uncle, please.'
Tiberius looked down with annoyance and saw that it was Claudius. 'You're pathetic,' he told him. Claudius didn't disagree. Tiberius found pleasure in this and was immediately glad that his crippled nephew had come to greet him. 'Have you been standing there long?'
Claudius nodded. 'About my request, Uncle?' He peered uneasily at a filth-caked pile of rags slumped on the other side of Tiberius's chair. The rags stirred a little.
'Yes, yes — but what do you think of the musica muta?'
Claudius was stricken, unsure what response was required, until he took refuge in the place that usually served him best: the truth. 'I adore them, Uncle.'
'So do I!' said Tiberius. 'Do you find them obscene?'
'I find them… erotic,' said Claudius.
Tiberius digested that word and found that it didn't sit well with him. He went back to clapping again. The filthy rags stirred once more.
'Uncle?'
Tiberius seemed to notice him for the first time. 'What is it?'
'About my request… to the haruspex… regarding my situation?'
'What of it?'
'I wonder if I might hear his reply?'
'How should I know?'
Claudius cleared his throat, aware of the eyes of the musica muta artists upon him. 'He is sitting there beside you, Uncle.'
Tiberius looked down at the pile of rags with surprise. 'Thrasyllus? Have you been here all along?'
The broken haruspex moaned where he lay, rank and foul in his rags, stinking like the worst of the sewers.
