Macro shrugged. 'Who can say?'
'You can say!' complained Little Boots. 'If my great-grandmother has told you, then tell me, Prefect.'
Macro leaned close and Little Boots felt intimidated anew. 'Your great-grandmother told me a number of things, and to each of them she added that I must not tell you.'
Little Boots's mouth gaped.
'You must discover all things for yourself. And only when you do discover them, your great-grandmother believes, will you be ready to know what they mean.'
Macro resumed his progress to the dock, leaving the youth staring after him. Little Boots saw that a document had slipped from the bundle under Macro's arm.
'You dropped this!' he shouted. Macro stopped again and looked to where Little Boots pointed. 'A sealed letter. You dropped it.'
Macro made no move to retrieve the thing, watching Little Boots. Not knowing what game was being played, the young man stooped and picked it up for him, holding it out.
'That's unfortunate,' said Macro.
Little Boots just looked in confusion.
'Look, the wax is cracked,' Macro went on. 'The seal is broken. It must have happened when you touched it.'
Affronted, Little Boots went to defend himself but Macro raised his hand to stop him. 'If I weren't in such a hurry to return to Rome, I would go back to the Emperor and ask him to seal it again. But I do not have the time.'
Little Boots tried to fathom what was really being said to him.
'Perhaps you can bring it to the Emperor's attention?' said Macro. 'I will collect the letter when I return in five days' time — provided the Emperor remembers to reseal it. If he does not remember, then perhaps you can bring that to his attention too?'
Macro departed, leaving Little Boots holding the document in silence. The Prefect's real instruction was clear. He wanted Little Boots to read what the document contained. But why? Would it help Little Boots to discover all that he presently had not? He slowly unfurled the papyrus in the thin November sun, letting the cracked fragments of wax break off and fall to the ground.
It was Tiberius's directive to the Senate instructing the release of Little Boots's mother and brother.
With Little Boots having been snoring upstairs in their cramped room for hours, Aemilius rubbed his eyes and prepared to join him, blowing out his oil lamp and putting his pen and ink away. He shared Little Boots's frustration at having to complete scholarly tasks now that both of them were men, but he did not share his friend's recklessness. The thought of defying the Revered Lady Antonia's orders — and, what's more, being caught by her for it — filled Aemilius with dread. And so, whenever Little Boots fell asleep before he did, which was now quite often, Aemilius took the opportunity to slip away and cram in secret in a little downstairs room. He had managed to read a great deal in this manner, comforting himself that he could answer any and all of Antonia's questions, should the formidable matron return to quiz him.
Tucking his scroll of Livy's History of Early Rome under his arm, Aemilius entered the ground floor latrine. He disliked sitting down on household lavatories when it wasn't necessary, preferring to piss from the standing position, as if filling up a fuller's pot. It was of no concern to him that half his urine missed its mark. He stared into space, trying to recall as many of Livy's names and events as he could, until he realised that his piss was making an unusual sound as it struck the sewer below. It was not the sound of water hitting water, but of water hitting something that didn't belong in there. Livy left his head. Aemilius shook himself off and peered into the void. A crumpled piece of papyrus floated on the water, the remains of its red wax seal still visible. It was the Emperor's mark. Intrigued, Aemilius considered fishing the thing out to read it.
'Here you are,' said Little Boots, sticking his head around the door.
Aemilius jumped. 'I thought you were asleep.'
'How can I sleep at a time like this?'
'It's long past sunset — when else are you supposed to sleep?'
'When my grandmother hasn't just shown up, for a start.'
Aemilius was shocked. 'Lady Antonia is here?'
'Her ship has docked. She's in a hell of a temper, demanding all of us attend her so she can discuss the schoolwork she set.'
'But it's the middle of the night.'
'You'll tell that to my grandmother, will you?'
Aemilius knew he would do nothing of the kind. But he felt the scroll of Livy under his arm and felt a degree less panicked.
'Go ahead, they're all gathering,' said Little Boots. 'I'm right behind you.'
When his friend had left the room, Little Boots loosened his loincloth and sat at the latrine. Nature took its course, and he gave a satisfied smile at what it was also doing to the crumpled piece of papyrus.
When my domina proposed I accompany her on a walk through the streets to the Temple of the Great Mother, I threw myself to the floor automatically.
'Thank you, domina — it would be a great honour.'
After several moments of silence I looked up from the floor, thinking I had offended her again.
Livia was looking at me, but not with anger. 'Just the two of us will walk,' she said. 'No one else.'
I writhed again at her feet. 'Such, such a great honour.'
She rolled her eyes. 'Too much grovelling from you. I'm bored with it. Time to smarten yourself up, Iphicles, if you want to get on. I'm bored with having to spell everything out to you.'
I lurched upright as fast as my old bones would let me. 'Spell everything out?'
'Sometimes you're just cretinous,' she said, making her way down the corridor. I struggled to keep up, trying to guess what she had planned. I was at a loss but had no intention of staying behind and missing out.
We stepped into the Palatine streets and began our progress towards the summit of the hill, where the Temple stood, but we'd barely gone a hundred feet when we sighted fresh graffiti upon a wall: When the moment of succession arrives, the son of Germanicus will have the full support of the Praetorian Guard.
I was astonished and had to reread it, repeating the words aloud. 'The son of Germanicus… Moment of succession… Full support of the Guard.'
'Isn't it appalling?' said Livia, watching me read. 'These ruffians with their paintbrushes should have their hands cut off for defacing property. I deplore whoever pays them to write such provocative things.'
I knew without question it was her. 'This concerns the second king.'
'Does it?' She resumed the walk towards the Temple.
I hurried to stay at her side, a new excitement empowering me. 'Does this mean you accept what I have been saying about the identity of the second king?'
'Possibly,' said Livia, now in a playful mood.
This was momentous for me. ' Domina,' I stammered, 'when did you at last come to believe that Little Boots would be that king?'
'When it became so irrelevant.'
I stopped dead. 'Irrelevant? The second king?'
'Yes. Completely irrelevant.'
'But Cybele? Her prophecies?'
'Also irrelevant. I had it all wrong. Thrasyllus showed me my error. First in a dream while I was paralysed at your hands, and then again, right before I cut his head off. When I think of it, I'm ashamed. All those years spent fretting about my kings, when if only I'd known what the goddess actually had in store, I could have saved myself. She sent her original prophecies to test my mettle, I think, to see what I was made of — to see if I was worthy of her.'
I was hopelessly confused. The sky-blue face of the Temple came into view.
'Yes, the second king couldn't be more irrelevant,' Livia declared.
I snapped. 'That's ridiculous, domina! What could be more important than the second king?'
She smiled wickedly at me. 'The second queen?'
I could only stand there with my mouth open.
