Tiberius

Iullus. Despite my dislike, I felt some sympathy for him. He had been brought up with us, but Augustus never trusted him: he was always mindful of his heredity, and he knew that many of Antony's old adherents, and their connections, regarded Iullus as the natural leader of their party. He therefore permitted him civil office, but declined to allow him any military experience. In an attempt to bind him to the family's interests, he had commanded Iullus to marry Octavia's daughter by her first marriage, Marcella, when she was divorced by Agrippa in order that my father-in-law might marry Julia. No doubt Augustus was wise: Iullus much resembled his father in appearance and in his intemperate character. He was indeed a little drunk when he approached me that afternoon at the baths; he was often a little drunk by that time of day…

'So the great general has returned,' he said, laying his hand on my shoulder. I brushed it off; I have always detested such manifestations of male camaraderie – all the more so when I know them to be insincere.

'I was surprised that you didn't attend your father-in-law's funeral.' 'Marcus Agrippa would have understood my absence.' 'And you imply I cannot, because of my ignorance of military affairs. Well, that's not my fault. I think the worse of myself for not being a soldier, and' – he raised his voice – 'the worse of the man who has deprived me of that experience, which is properly speaking my birthright.'

He stretched himself on the bench beside me and called for a slave to massage him. He ran his hands over his tight curly hair and sighed as the boy's hands worked over his flesh. He must have been almost thirty, but there was still something boyish about his own appearance. His thighs had the smoothness of the athlete who has never sat a horse on campaign in foul climates, and the skin on his face was soft, as a man's is when he is never exposed to wind and rain. The boy worked oil into his legs and I watched his pleasure increase. Then he flopped over on to his belly, inclined his head towards me, and told the boy to go and fetch wine.

'I have been wanting to speak to you,' he said. 'Now's as good a time as any. We were friends as children, weren't we? I always admired the way you handled my dear late brother-in-law Marcellus. I could see you thought him as great a ninny as I did. But, unlike me, you were clever enough not to let everyone realise this, for you knew how your stepfather doted on him. I couldn't do that, but I admired your… reserve, shall we say…?'

I didn't reply. Where there's nothing useful to be said, it is best to remain silent. I may have grunted, for I was interested to see how far he would reveal himself, and it is always foolish to choke off confidences at an early stage, even if the wise man realises that in certain circumstances to receive a confidence may be almost as dangerous as to impart one. These things have to be balanced.

'And then I was married off to his sister, for what that's worth. You did better in that line, though I didn't realise it at the time. There was something to be said for being Agrippa's son-in-law. But there might be more to be said for being his successor again…' 'And the father of his sons?' I prompted.

The boy came back with wine. Iullus told him to hand me a cup too. It was sweet and resinous. Iullus rose to his feet, hugging his cup to his breast. 'I have ambitions in that direction,' he said. 'Julia and I have always been chums… if you put in a word for me, I'll not forget it…'

He lay down again, called on the curly-headed boy to resume his massage. He sighed with pleasure. I watched his flesh move as the boy's fingers eased themselves to and fro. I thought of his father dying of stupid ambition in the Egyptian sands. I thought of mine fondling the wine-flask on the terrace of his Alban villa while the tears coursed down his fat cheeks. Then I turned on my front, and longed for Vipsania, and dreamed of my own son's future… Augustus was at his most affable when I met him in the next weeks. He treated me to magisterial surveys of the political situation in Rome. I marvelled, as I always did, at his acute evaluation of the political influence exerted by families, individuals and alliances. I admired the judgment with which he balanced this faction against that, showing me how he would sweeten this man's ambition with office or the promotion of some dependant, stifle that man's hopes by the timely detachment of some supporter, how he would keep some dangling in greedy expectation, and drench others with hints of disloyalty and unreliability. I was both entranced and disgusted, for I realised that he used men as counters and that his relish in doing so had in it something of the cruelty of a child.

Then he talked of Agrippa with a tenderness that was affecting. 'The best of friends' he called him. 'When we were young,' he said, 'people used to laugh at his accent, and I remember Mark Antony telling me that people took my fondness for Agrippa as a sign that I was myself second-rate. He laughed as he said that, but Antony learned himself how wrong that judgment was. We would never have triumphed but for Agrippa. I loved him, you know. He never doubted that our improbable adventure would end happily. Of course he was deficient in imagination, but that gave me confidence too. And now he is gone. It's like having my leg or my right arm cut off. But our life goes on, that's the terrible thing.'

I couldn't imagine Augustus ever thinking that a terrible thing. I have never known a man who so revelled in existence, or one who took such pleasure in unravelling problems… 'And we who are left,' he said, 'have to fill the vacancy he has left behind. I'm happy with the condition of the armies, thanks to you and to our dear Drusus, I know everything there is in safe hands. Of course I don't expect either of you to replace Agrippa in the management of the Republic, that's a task I shall have to shoulder alone, it would be putting far too much weight on your young, if capable, shoulders. But there's our darling Julia. Of course she's overcome with a very proper grief now but when that subsides, well, it'll be a matter of finding her a husband. Who shall we choose? And then there are the boys, my two darlings Gaius and Lucius. Whoever marries Julia must be a man I trust absolutely, you know, for he will have to act as their guardian too. Naturally, as long as I am spared, I will secure their interests, but I'm not immortal, and my health has never been good. I nearly died ten years ago, you remember, and my doctor says he couldn't call me a good life. I take care of myself of course, exercise, and frugality in eating and drinking, but who knows when the gods will call me? So, you see, my dear Tiberius, the question is worrying. It keeps me awake at nights, and that's not good for me. Your dear mother shares my worries, that's a great comfort, but even she can't think of an ideal solution. We can neither of us think of any solution which won't hurt somebody. That's the shame of it. I hate hurting people I am fond of, you know, and yet I don't see how it can be done otherwise. Have you any suggestions, dear boy?'

Was I expected to answer? I was a blind fool. I did not see the way his thoughts were tending. But even if I had, I do not see how I could have been other than impotent. Augustus has inserted himself into the state in such a manner that his will is always pregnant of the future.

I was kept dangling in Rome. When I announced my intention of leaving the city to join Vipsania, urgent reasons for postponement were produced. Then I was invited to supper by Maecenas. I had always disliked and distrusted my stepfather's Etruscan counsellor; his effeminacy disgusted me, and I could not forget that Agrippa had described him to me as being as 'wily as a Spanish banker and vicious as a Corinthian brothel-keeper'. My instinct was to refuse the invitation, but the slave who brought it to me coughed to attract my attention and said:

'My master ordered me to add in speech what he chose not to commit in writing: that your future happiness depends on your acceptance. He said you would not immediately believe this, but commanded me to assure you that he has only your best interests at heart, and to say also that the matter concerns your wife.' The great house on the Esquiline was a mixture of gross luxury and dirt. There was furniture of the utmost extravagance and rich wall-paintings and vases, and a profusion of flowers, but a small dog was lifting its leg against a carved ivory couch as I entered. No one reproved it, and the number of little dogs and cats that swarmed over the palace suggested to me that the action was common. The air was oversweet and perfumed, as if to mask the stench of urine. I knew Maecenas to be in poor health himself. He had retired, as I believed, from public life. His wife Terentia had long abandoned him, and he cohabited with the actor Bathyllus whose behaviour even on the public stage had become a byword for indecency. Maecenas himself had lost whatever reputation he had possessed, and few people mentioned his name without a snigger or an expression of disgust; yet I knew that Augustus still consulted him, and even valued his advice above all others; except my late father-in-law's.

I was ushered into a little dining-room. The table was already spread and Maecenas, in an improbable gown of gold and purple silks, reclined on a couch. He was gazing at a blond boy, who posed, nude, on a stool; his right ankle rested on his left knee and his face was concealed as he leaned forward to examine the sole of his raised foot. An artist across the room was sketching the boy.

Maecenas neither rose when I entered, nor took his eyes from the boy. Instead he stretched out his long bony hand and squeezed the boy's leg. Understanding this to be a command, the boy rose, and, without a backward glance, strolled from the room, trailing a tunic behind him. The artist collected his materials and slipped away. We were left alone, and Maecenas rose and extended both hands in a gesture of greeting. His face was drawn and wasted by disease, and when he spoke, his voice was hoarse and seemed to come from a distance. During the