'It is Nero, then? Or is it Drusus, Mother?'
Livia looked away wistfully.
'Who, then?' croaked Tiberius. 'Tell me whose name it should be..'
She bent to where he lay and kissed his cheek. Then she whispered the name in his ear. Tiberius stared at her and Livia nodded reassuringly, giving him the strength to scrawl the unlikely name upon the papyrus sheet. As she helped him press his seal into the warm wax, his ring slipped from his finger to the floor. She let it stay there. Tiberius tried to cover his eyes against the glow of her flames. 'It burns,' he whispered. 'It's burning, Mother.'
'Here, son,' she said, soothingly. She handed him a cushion from his bed. 'Place this across your eyes to shade them.'
Tiberius covered his face with the cushion. 'Thank you, Mother.'
As my domina crept from Tiberius's room, she saw her great-grandson hovering in the shadows.
'Ah, Little Boots,' she murmured. 'The Emperor has called for you. There is something he wishes to tell you.'
Little Boots was fearful. 'What is it?'
Livia slipped away into the gloom without answering him.
He stood outside the sleeping chamber for a long time. No sound came from within. Steeling himself, Little Boots pushed open the door. The air that emerged was foul with sickness, and Little Boots gagged. In the shadows cast by a single oil lamp, he could see no sign of his grandfather. The bed appeared empty.
Little Boots's bare foot stepped on something sharp. He looked down to see the glint of the Imperial ring. Amazed, Little Boots stooped to pick it up. Then the magnitude of what it was struck him. This seal held life and death. A man could be saved by its imprint, or condemned. The Divine Augustus had worn the ring, and before him the Divine Julius Caesar. The ring conferred the powers of a god.
Staring at the hallowed eagle seal, Little Boots felt a compulsion seize him. He knew it was wrong — that to give in to it would be an offence to Fate — but the pull was too great. Little Boots slipped the ring of the Caesars upon the third finger of his right hand — the finger that led to his heart. A white-hot surge of divine supremacy flushed through his veins. His limb began to swell. The dulled, scratched gold bit into his flesh. The fit was ideal. It pleasured his hand. The ring belonged there.
Little Boots saw the sheet of papyrus on the table where the oil lamp burned. He saw the words. The power of the ring made them fly out at him. It was Tiberius's will, and he, Little Boots, was named as successor.
Tiberius stirred beneath the linens and Little Boots dropped the papyrus in fright. The cushion slid from the old man's face and he saw the ring on Little Boots's finger. He felt for his own hands beneath the sheets and knew what was missing.
'Take it off.'
'Grandfather — '
'Take it off. That's mine.'
Little Boots tried to loosen it but the band bit deeper into his flesh. 'It's stuck.'
'Take it off, I said — give it to me!'
Little Boots tugged at the ring, sticking his finger into his mouth to grip it with his teeth. 'It's stuck, Grandfather — I can't budge it,' he said, white-faced.
Tiberius saw the papyrus on the floor and remembered. 'You little turd, you think you're Emperor already!'
'No — I only put the ring on by accident.'
'You saw my will — you saw what was there. You want me dead!'
'No! That's not how it was.'
Enraged, Tiberius tried to sit up. 'I'll change it — I'll strike off your name. You're a thief!' Tiberius screamed. 'Antonia! Antonia!' he called to the rooms outside. 'Come in here now and see your grandson, the thief!'
Panicking, Little Boots snatched up the cushion that had covered Tiberius's face and tried to replace it there. 'Be quiet!' he hissed, terrified of what Antonia would do if she heard him. 'Just be quiet and go back to sleep.'
'Thief!' Tiberius slapped and struggled against him. 'My ring!'
Little Boots saw with shock that the cushion was his own. Sedeo. Suddenly, the word seemed both a command and a premonition. Little Boots pressed it harder on Tiberius's face. 'Shut up,' he hissed. 'Shut up and stay in your bed!'
The old man squirmed and raged beneath the bed clothes.
Little Boots climbed onto the bed and placed his whole body upon the cushion, straddling the Emperor's covered head between his knees. 'Just stop it, will you! Stop it! Stop it! Go to fucking sleep!'
Tiberius fell still.
I let myself into the room as Little Boots lifted the cushion again. The Emperor's eyes were open, staring unblinking at the smoke-stained ceiling. A string of spittle dripped from his mouth.
The lovely voice of the goddess whispered in our ears: ' When tiny shoes a cushion brings, the cuckoo's king rewarded.'
I chuckled. 'Tiberius was well rewarded indeed by your cushion, Little Boots.'
He stared in awe. 'Is this what will make me a god?' he whispered.
'One step at a time,' I smiled.
Matronalia
March, AD 37
One week later: the new Emperor, Gaius Julius Caesar Augustus Germanicus, known to all as Caligula, escorts his grandfather's corpse to Rome
Borrowing from his late mother's theatrics, Little Boots, dressed in mourning garb, accompanied Tiberius's body on its journey from Capri to Rome. Aemilius was by his side, and Little Boots played the occasion as a triumph more than a funeral procession. Crowds thronged to cheer along the Via Appia, holding blazing torches before him and making sacrifices. They called out pet names like 'star' and 'chick' and 'baby', and it was much remarked that crowds of such a size hadn't been seen since Little Boots's father's triumph upon his return from Germany. To the people Little Boots was almost an unknown, but as Germanicus's son he was invested with all his father's qualities. He wore his father's crown.
At Oxheads the remaining members of the Imperial family prepared to journey to the Capena Gate to greet Little Boots's procession as it arrived in Rome. Claudius was among them, as were dead Livilla's children, Tiberia and Gemellus. Nilla made her way towards them through the throng, looking for the Imperial litter that would let her see her brother again after so many years.
'What pride I feel at the day's events,' my domina purred behind her.
Nilla turned sharply and stiffened. 'My brother's ascension must be a special day for you indeed, Great- grandmother,' she said flatly.
'What? Oh, that,' said Livia.
Standing behind her, I had to smile.
'Well, I suppose it is, for now,' said Livia, 'but that's not what I meant.'
Nilla turned away, unwilling to play her great-grandmother's games. But Livia leaned into her ear. 'Little Boots's rule will bring shame upon Rome, and far worse.'
Nilla refused to look at her.
'Do I shock you?'
'You disgust me.'
Livia tittered. 'All my life I have schemed, believing it my destiny to be the mother of four great kings, Nilla, and all my life I was wrong. The kings will not be great in any way, and it is not in them that my destiny lies. It is in you, Nilla. You are my true destiny and my legacy, too.'
If she expected awe or even gratitude, she didn't get it. The look Nilla gave her was angry and contemptuous. 'What legacy? Ruined lives? Murdered innocents? You killed anyone who might stop you.'
Livia didn't disagree. 'Fate demands such measures in order to take us where we must be — to take you, Nilla, just as it has taken me. The men of Rome will believe there is a man in power — Little Boots at first, and then the next two kings — but the women of Rome will guess the truth. The kings are puppets. It is a queen who will
