Burrus's name parted her lips but she would not whisper it. From her bed upon the soil she saw the form of a man rise from the flowers. He was unclothed, just like the Emperor and his beasts. He came before her, studying her silently, before crouching to stroke her hair where she lay. His hands were gentle.
'Who is he, Grandfather?'
Tiberius stared at the stars, unblinking.
The stroking man had red pubic hair. It glowed like a forest fire.
'Please, Grandfather. Who is he?'
The Emperor's eyes were like small white stones. 'Ahenobarbus of the Aemilii,' he said. 'He is your groom, Nilla.'
The Ides of February
AD 27
One week later: seeking to disarm criticism of his absence from Rome, Emperor Tiberius Julius Caesar Augustus distributes compensation money to victims of the calamities at Fidenae and the Caelian Hill
The fishermen at Surrentum saw the corpse that had washed up in the night. Knowing it was just another drowned sailor, they paid little heed as they prepared for the dawn's catch. Then one man made the observation that the corpse was well dressed — the dead sailor's tunica was sewn from good quality linen, dyed sky-blue. How many sailors were dressed like that? Then another man remarked that perhaps it was not a sailor at all, but a hapless passenger washed overboard. Perhaps the passenger still had his purse?
The three fishermen went to give the corpse closer attention but were disappointed. The corpse wore a slave's collar. This was not a passenger at all, but some rich man's lost property. Two of the three men returned to preparing their boat, but the third fisherman lingered, staring at the corpse. The dead lad was handsome and all too young. It was a sad waste of life, slave or not. The fisherman stooped to scrape the weed from the face and saw a seal that hung from the iron collar. It stirred something in his memory. Before his retirement he had spent long years cooking dinners for the legions.
'That seal is from the House of Germanicus.'
He called out to his colleagues that he knew where the dead slave came from, but when he turned to look at the lad again the situation was changed. The slave's eyes were open. The boy was alive.
The fishermen stood in a circle, debating what to do while the waves continued to lap at Burrus's limbs. He could not move them. He could not sit up. He could only stare. When the children of the traitors had thrown him from the Capri cliff, they had expected him to drown. But they did not know him. Burrus had been lost to the waves before. He could swim like Neptune himself.
The fishermen decided. They would take the slave fishing with them. Better that than leave him here for some other bastard to find. They would see if he revived enough to tell them how he came to be washed up on the promontory when he belonged to so great a house. If they were satisfied with his answers, they would endeavour to return him to Rome. No doubt there was a reward waiting there. But if they were dissatisfied with his answers, then he would become the fishermen's slave and no more would be said about his origins.
When they picked up Burrus to lug him onto the boat, a word left his lips. 'Nilla…'
They did not know what he meant and asked him to repeat it. He was unable.
The fishermen pondered the word. Was it a place, perhaps? The name of a villa by the sea? Or was it a person? His mother, maybe? All lads were known to bawl for their mamas when near to death.
The youngest of the fishermen had another view. Nilla was the name of some girl, he said. She was why the slave was half-drowned. His heart was broken by her and he had tried to end it all. The other men liked this theory, and when they put it to Burrus he did not have the strength to do anything more than look at them. Sentimental, like all ex-soldiers, the fishermen decided this story would do for Burrus until a better one sufficed. It cast him in a light they rather liked.
As the men began to sail from the shore, Burrus vowed in his heart that the first thing he would do when he was able would be to assure them he would never 'end it all' while his Nilla lived. She gave him the will for life, not death, no matter what the Fates decreed for him. While she walked on this earth, so would he. Only when Nilla was gone would he kill himself. It would be his privilege to join her in death.
Agonalia
March, AD 28
Thirteen months later: Titius Sabinus, friend of the widow Agrippina, is arrested for treasonous remarks made in the privacy of his own tablinum. The ceiling is found to conceal a paid informant
Claudius had intended to refuse all wine, wanting to keep his head clear for the day's events, but as the hours wore on and the faces of the young people took on looks that spoke of miseries unexpressed, he felt the stirrings of suspicion that these nuptials were not a joyous thing at all. The doubt made him take his first wine. He missed his cousin Castor at these family occasions, given that no one else ever sank so low as to talk to him. Claudius drank his wine in a rush before asking for another. He downed that just as quickly and believed he felt a little better.
Claudius hoped the wine might grant him heightened powers of observation. Sometimes it did. He looked at the young people closely while they completed the confarreatio rituals. Nilla, his niece, had no expression at all as the lambskin was laid across her knees. Even with her eyes half-hidden under the saffron veil, Claudius could see that her face was a mask. This was strange for a bride on her wedding day. If it wasn't elation being shown to the guests, then tears were just as acceptable. But the girl let nothing through, and Claudius feared it was because her hopes for happiness were less than nil.
Claudius studied the groom. Ahenobarbus of the Aemilii was handsome enough, despite his curly red hair, and was likely little older than twenty-three. Yet, this gave him a good ten years on his bride. Ahenobarbus seemed absent. It was strange that he hadn't yet spoken a word. His eyes looked out the open temple doors and towards the rooftops beyond, and he rubbed his thumb and forefinger together as if to make a click. Claudius wondered how the wedding night would play out and then chastised himself when he found the thought arousing. It was wrong to think of his niece being roughly deflowered.
Claudius turned his eyes to the other young couple being married at Tiberius's decree. Nilla's brother Drusus was not as adept as his sister in hiding his inner heart. He looked bewildered and almost frightened, as if the news of his nuptials had been broken to him only that morning. With some unease, it occurred to Claudius that perhaps this was so. The double wedding had been a surprise to the guests, who had only been told they would be witness to the union of Nilla and Ahenobarbus. Perhaps the tight-fisted Tiberius had decided at the last minute to get more for his money? Claudius peered at Drusus's bride. She was not a girl he recognised. The priest had named her as Domitia, also of the Aemilii, and with the ignominy of her late mother's conviction for witchcraft still casting a pall over the clan, Claudius suspected that Domitia had spent many years hidden from view. This would account for why nobody knew her.
Claudius accepted a third wine just as the couples began to eat the sacred spelt loaves. He tried to remember what he knew about the disgraced Aemilii and recalled that there were two more children, another daughter and a son. He saw the son among the guests at once, reclining on a couch next to Little Boots. The boys were friends. Claudius looked around for someone who might fit the appearance of the other Aemilii daughter but could find no one. He vaguely recalled that she had been married off several years ago.
'Are you drunk, Grandson?'
Livia's tone cut through the temple air, causing the priest to falter. Claudius spun around to find Livia watching him from her couch. I was in meek attendance at her side.
'I thought so,' said Livia.
Claudius hurried over to her couch as the ceremony resumed, hoping to quieten her. 'It is only my first wine,' he claimed.
'Liar. It's your third.'
Claudius blushed scarlet and Livia laughed at him, placing a cold, dry hand upon his arm. 'I'm only teasing you. It's a wedding — why shouldn't you enjoy yourself?'
The fact that he had drunk three cups of wine in rapid succession made Claudius reply before he had thought
