'You were about to command him to tell it to me, Uncle.'
'Why not command him yourself? He's been very compliant since I initiated the beatings. He almost never gets things wrong anymore.'
Although he felt ill from the smell, Claudius went to address the shattered form of Thrasyllus. But something stopped him again. He looked at the two Praetorians slouching at the door with heavy pouches of gold hanging from their belts. 'Caesar has forbidden anyone to hear the words of soothsayers directly,' Claudius reminded Tiberius.
The look on Tiberius's face suggested he had never heard of such a directive.
'It is a capital crime. You banned all soothsayers from Italy. Only Caesar's haruspex remains — at your personal service.'
Tiberius was confused for a moment. Then he fumbled on the low table in front of his chair until his hand connected with his goblet. He picked it up and took a sip of the rich, thick liquid it contained. The sickly sweetness of it reached Claudius's nostrils, making him feel more nauseous still.
Claudius cleared his throat again. 'My request to Thrasyllus… was actually your request, Uncle.'
'Was it?'
'You said I was pathetic — a disgrace to your house. You said my son Hector's death was my own fault — that I had brought it on through being a cripple and a halfwit.'
'I did say all that, didn't I?' Tiberius recalled.
Claudius had no argument with any of it. 'You said you would ask your haruspex what the future held for me. You said it might provide me with clues as to how I might… not offend you any further.'
Tiberius stared imperiously at the pile of fetid rags beside his chair. 'Speak, haruspex, and stop wasting our time.'
Thrasyllus's voice was like a draught of stale air from a long-closed tomb. ' New love awaits…'
Claudius's heart leaped.
' Love so great… your blinding love… the rarest of birds …'
Claudius's eyes filled with tears and he stooped to kiss the hem of Tiberius's robe. 'Thank you, Uncle, thank you. I've been so lonely since my son died…'
' Love brings the new son… the son of the isles…'
Claudius's eyes boggled in astonishment and he fell into sobs of joy. Tiberius let him continue for several minutes, finding it gratifying for a time, before he grew tired of the display and pulled the fabric from his nephew's lips. Claudius righted himself again. 'Does the haruspex… Does he name this new love for me, Uncle? Does he say where I can find her?'
Tiberius kicked Thrasyllus with his foot and the haruspex started to choke. ' M… m… mes…'
'Speak clearer!' Tiberius kicked him again.
' Mes… mess…'
'It's Misenum!' Tiberius clapped his hands together excitedly. 'That's where she is, nephew, at the home of Rome's fleet. I'd say she's the daughter of an admiral.'
Claudius shone with amazement. 'I will take myself to Misenum at once, Uncle.'
'A fine idea.'
' Unborn… the love is unborn…'
'What does that mean, Uncle?'
Tiberius aimed his boot squarely at Thrasyllus's chin, and then, when the broken haruspex 's head snapped sharply back at the neck, Tiberius bent down in his chair to slap hard at the man's cheeks. 'Speak clearer!'
' Here… for Mercury…' Thrasyllus slipped into unconsciousness.
Claudius looked bewildered, as did Tiberius for a moment. Then the Emperor saw that the pantomimus had paused in his dance. 'Did I ask you to stop?' he said to the musica muta artists. They resumed their performance with vigour.
'Shall I leave, Uncle?
'Unborn… for Mercury…' Tiberius pondered. Then a smile split his face like a wound. 'The girl isn't born yet — she's still in the womb! But Thrasyllus says she'll be here for Mercury — don't you see, halfwit? He's named the very date of her birth! She'll pop out on the next day of Mercury — and she'll be born in Misenum!'
Things were moving all too fast for the bewildered Claudius, and he felt his weak left leg begin to shake.
'Now get out,' said Tiberius.
Claudius fell over and struck his chin on the marble as he leaned forward to bow. Tiberius roared with laughter and then abruptly stopped, glaring hatefully at him. Claudius scuttled to the door with the sniggers of the two Praetorians hissing in his ears. Tiberius forgot about his nephew immediately, his eyes wandering back to the dancing pantomimus.
The mound of rags stirred. ' The third…'
Tiberius kicked him again.
' The third…'
He stared at the moaning haruspex.
' The third…'
Tiberius decided he'd been remiss in claiming to his nephew that Thrasyllus was never wrong anymore. Sometimes the fool soothsayer came out with things that couldn't be more absurd.
Lygdus seized the moment as soon as he spotted the vacant fuller's pot at the side of the road to the Palatine Hill. Breaking from Castor's interminable procession, he dashed to the front of the reeking laundry premises, where the earthenware pot stood beneath the sign that said 'Relieve yourself'. The fuller needed lakes of urine to bleach his clients' togae white, and Lygdus was happy to provide — but only when he had the pot to himself. Burdened with the shame of castration, Lygdus hid his tiny eunuch's penis behind his hand as he relieved himself. He was startled when another man joined him.
'Good thinking,' said Nero. 'You've got to take advantage of any pot you can find on these stupid processions — right, Lygdus? They stretch on for hours.'
The slave forgot himself and laughed, before remembering who and where he was. Nero hoisted up his toga and began adding his urine to Lygdus's in a strong, pungent jet.
'The fuller won't like my piss very much,' Nero said. 'Too much wine inside me — they reckon it makes it useless for washing clothes. It doesn't bleach. That's why they never put these pots outside taverns.'
Lygdus tried to continue concealing himself behind his hands but it was impossible.
'We won't tell him though, will we?' said Nero. 'Poor old fuller.'
'No, domine.'
'Another secret we'll keep to ourselves.'
Lygdus met his young master's eye. There was no threat behind the statement, no kind of warning in his face — only trust and amusement. Lygdus had never betrayed what had taken place that night in the entrance hall, and Nero was very aware of it. To Lygdus's mortification, Nero cast his eyes at Lygdus's undeveloped penis.
'It must have been painful, what they did to you.'
Lygdus flushed red and hurriedly tucked himself away, still dripping inside his loincloth, pulling down his tunica to cover himself.
'I'm sorry,' said Nero, and Lygdus saw that he was. 'I didn't mean to embarrass you. I think it's disgusting what they did to you — it's degenerate. That sort of thing belongs in the East, not here in Rome. It's an insult to the Fathers. And when I get a say in these matters I'm going to ban it. What do you think of that?'
'It… it was the domina Livilla's doing,' Lygdus whispered.
Nero frowned. 'Well, it wasn't your dominus Castor's orders — did you know that? Bitch Aunt Livilla did it to you without my uncle Castor even knowing about it.'
Lygdus just stared at this candid revelation.
'He was livid when he found out,' said Nero. 'Hit the roof about it. I shouldn't tell you this, but he's never stopped feeling guilty about it either. It's why he gave you such a cushy job washing all our feet.'
Lygdus felt like he was living in a dream. A young dominus was willingly sharing a confidence with him. This was something he had never even known was possible between a master and slave.
'I shouldn't tell you this either,' said Nero, lowering his voice even further as he shook himself off at the pot, 'but you could milk that guilt for all it's worth with my uncle. He likes you an awful lot, Lygdus.'
