Текст книги "Empire"

Автор книги: Steven Saylor

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Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 45 страниц)

AD 41

Kaeso shook the three ivory dice in his hand and tossed them onto the table. The engraved pips that landed uppermost were two fours and a one.

“Rabbits for you, brother. Too bad!” Titus scooped up the dice and threw them. The pips were all different: a one, a six, and a three. “A Venus Throw for me. I win! Today, I shall wear the fascinum.”

“No one will see it under your toga, anyway.”

“But it will be there, nonetheless, lying close to my heart on the occasion of our audience with the emperor. We’ve waited a long time for this day, Kaeso.”

Three months had passed since their arrival in Roma. They had settled into a house on the Aventine not far from the one in which they had been born. It was not a particularly elegant house, and it was too far down the hill to offer much of a view, but it was large enough for the four of them and their slaves, with room to accommodate new additions to the family.

While the twins put on their best togas, their wives dressed in their finest stolas and put finishing touches to their newly styled hair. It had not taken them long to adopt Roman fashions, though Artemisia remained the more conservative of the two, in deference to Kaeso’s distaste for ostentation. Secretly, she envied Chrysanthe’s more daring coiffure, which towered atop her head like a Subura tenement.

Carried in a pair of exquisitely crafted litters hired especially for the occasion, the two couples set out for the emperor’s house on the Palatine. The Januarius day was mild, with pale yellow sunshine peeking through thin, high clouds. As they passed the ancient Ara Maxima, the Great Altar of Hercules, Titus insisted that they stop and get out. At Claudius’s behest, he had at last started reading Livius’s history; an early chapter recounted the dedication of the Ara Maxima. It seemed fitting to Titus that on this of all days they should have a look at it.

The altar was made of massive stone blocks, roughly hewn, that looked very ancient. A bronze statue of Hercules stood nearby, a magnificent figure bearing a club and dressed only in a headdress made from a lion’s skin. At their approach, a priest offered his services. For a few coins, the priest spilled some wine and burned some incense on the altar while Titus said a prayer that their audience with the emperor would go well.

Titus explained to Artemisia and Chrysanthe why the altar had special significance to the Pinarii. “Long before there was a city on the Tiber, and only shepherds and a few traders lived among the Seven Hills, Hercules paid a visit, passing through with a herd of oxen. A monster called Cacus was living in a cave on the Palatine, just over there, terrorizing the local inhabitants. Cacus made the mistake of trying to steal one of the stranger’s oxen – he didn’t know who he was dealing with! – and after a terrific struggle, Hercules killed the monster Cacus on this very spot. The Pinarii were living here even then, for Livius tells us that it was a Pinarius who established this place of worship – the very first altar to a god in the whole region of the Seven Hills.”

Kaeso, who had remained silent since they had stepped from the litters, finally spoke. “Hercules was not a god, brother.”

Titus looked sidelong at his brother. “Strictly speaking, while he lived he was a demigod, since Jupiter sired him on a mortal woman. But after he died, he joined the gods in Olympus.”

Kaeso snorted softly. “If you believe such nonsense.”

“Kaeso!” Titus ground his teeth. This was not the first time his brother had expressed such atheistic sentiments, but to do so in a public place, where someone might overhear, and in this of all places, with its ancient, sacred ties to their own family, was beyond decency. Titus asked Artemisia and Chrysanthe to return to the litters, then spoke to Kaeso through clenched teeth.

“You should learn when to speak, brother, and when to keep your thoughts to yourself.”

“Why? If Jupiter overhears me, will he strike me down with a thunderbolt?”

“He might do just that! Am I mistaken, brother, or has this impious attitude of yours grown worse since we arrived in Roma? I had hoped that coming here, leaving the influence of those Jewish mystics in Alexandria behind, would bring you closer to the gods. I know that was father’s hope as well.”

“Don’t bring father into this.”

“Why not? When a man honours his father, he honours the gods, and vice versa. You seem disinclined to do either. The Alexandrians have a long tradition of allowing all manner of outlandish and even dangerous ideas to be taught, and we’ve seen the result: one has the feeling the gods abandoned that city long ago. But we are in Roma now, the heart of the world, the centre of the world’s religion. This is the home of our emperor, who is also the Pontifex Maximus, the highest of all priests. The gods make Roma their home when they choose to be on earth. Why? Because no other city offers them so many splendid temples to reside in, or provides so many altars where the pious may sacrifice in their honour. And in return, Roma above all other cities has been divinely blessed. Here in Roma, you must learn to keep unholy thoughts to yourself and to pay proper respect to the gods. It’s not I who demand this, but the gods.”

“No, it’s you, Titus. Your gods demand nothing, because they don’t exist.”

“Blasphemy, Kaeso! Even your Jewish mystics in Alexandria believe in the gods, even if they favour one above all others. Didn’t their god Jehovah say to them, ‘You shall have no other gods before me? You see, Kaeso, I do know something about these ideas you picked up in Alexandria, though I can’t imagine what sort of god demands his worshippers to spurn his fellow gods.”

Kaeso shook his head. “You know nothing about it, Titus. I’ve tried to explain to you-”

“I know that when a man denies the gods, he’s asking to be punished by them.”

Kaeso sighed. “I suppose we shall meet one of your so-called gods today.”

“What do you mean?”

“They say Caligula believes himself to be a god. Or a goddess, on the days he dresses up as Venus. Shall we fall to our knees and worship him?”

Kaeso’s tone was sarcastic, but Titus gave him a serious answer: “In fact, before we enter his presence, we may be required to make some acknowledgement of the emperor’s divine origins. It won’t kill you to murmur a prayer and burn a bit of incense. Shall we rejoin our wives and get on with it?”

As the bearers made their way up the slope of the Palatine, Chrysanthe tried to lighten Titus’s mood with inconsequential speculations. Would the emperor be accompanied by his wife, Caesonia? What would she be wearing? Would their young daughter make an appearance? Titus occasionally grunted in response, but was not listening. The argument with Kaeso had unsettled his nerves. He fell prey to unwelcome thoughts. For days, ever since the summons had arrived, Titus had been telling himself that an imperial audience was a singular honour and a golden opportunity, something to longed for, not feared. Suddenly he felt nervous and uncertain about what to expect. He had heard a great many strange rumours about the emperor.

Caligula had once set sail for Britannia on a mission of conquest, then suddenly turned back and ordered his troops to collect seashells instead, which he paraded before the people and the Senate of Roma as spoils of war, claiming he had conquered the ocean itself; a tavern keeper in the Subura had told Titus this tale, and every man in the tavern had backed him up. An architect’s wife at the market told Chrysanthe that her husband had helped to build a magnificent marble stall and an ivory manger for the emperor’s favourite horse, which Caligula decked out in purple blankets and a collar of precious stones, invited to dinner parties, and addressed as “Consul.”

These stories could almost be laughed at, but others were more disturbing. Caligula had once arranged an oratory competition, and made the losers erase their wax tablets with their tongues. When Caligula fell ill, a man declared that he would gladly sacrifice his own life to save the emperor’s; when Caligula recovered, he reminded the man of his pledge and forced him to commit suicide. At a gladiator show, the number of condemned men to be slain by wild beasts fell short of expectations, and to make up the number Caligula ordered some of the spectators to be thrown into the arena. All these tales were widely told and attested to be true.

Equally widespread was the rumour that Caligula had slept with all three of his sisters, openly practising incest and proudly claiming that he himself was the product of incest between his grandmother Julia and her father, the Divine Augustus.

Titus did not know what to think. Claudius might have helped him make sense of such stories, but Titus and Kaeso had not seen their cousin for over a month. As Messalina’s delivery drew nearer, Claudius had become increasingly reticent and withdrawn, finally confining himself to the imperial residence and accepting no visitors, not even over the Saturnalia holidays. When the twins had received the summons to an audience with Caligula, Titus had dispatched a message to Claudius at once, telling him the news and asking to meet, hoping to receive his cousin’s advice. In response, Claudius sent only a cryptic message: “May Fortune be with you!”

The litters arrived in the gravel forecourt of the imperial house, where numerous other litters had been parked. The courtyard was crowded with idle bearers as well as messengers and slaves whose masters had business within. Though the palace had been greatly expanded since the time of Augustus, the entry for guests was still the doorway flanked by laurel trees, and the courtyard still displayed the armour of the Divine Augustus. As they walked by, Titus dared to touch his fingers to the bronze breastplate. The thrill of excitement at being in this place was so great that it almost dispelled his anxieties.

They had to present themselves to a great many retainers and pass through a great many doors on their way to being received by the emperor. Titus soon lost all sense of direction and had no idea where they were inside the sprawling complex. At last they were shown into a small but exquisitely decorated room with a black marble floor, red drapes, and gilded furniture. The mood was informal. A servant announced the two couples, then invited them to relax on couches opposite that of the emperor, who reclined on his own couch with his wife Caesonia.

As all the stories had indicated, Caesonia was of middle age, but with her large breasts and sumptuous hips she exuded a certain overripe appeal. Her henna-stained hair was coiffed to frame her face like a peacock’s fan. With a forefinger she idly toyed with her necklace of amber and lapis. Her unblinking gaze made Titus nervous.

The sight of the emperor was reassuring, at least at first. At twenty-nine, Caligula was only seven years older than Titus and Kaeso, but his fair hair was already beginning to thin a bit. His features were plain but regular, and his expression was mild, almost vacant. He looked quite normal, Titus thought, except for his eccentric dress. Caligula appeared to be wearing not the boots for which he was named but a woman’s slippers, and the feminine gown called a cyclas embroidered with purple and gold and made of silk. In the days of the Divine Augustus, legislation had been passed outlawing the wearing of silk by men. Yet here was the emperor himself wrapped in the stuff.

“You will address him as Dominus,” the retainer had instructed them in a whisper before they entered the room. This was another way Caligula differed from his predecessors. Both Augustus and Tiberius had explicitly rejected using as a title the word by which slaves addressed their master.

The conversation began well. The twins thanked the emperor for lifting their father’s banishment. Caligula accepted their thanks and demonstrated his acquaintance with their family history and their current circumstances, noting their success in the Alexandrian grain trade despite the unfortunate treatment of their father by Tiberius.

“And so the wheel of time rolls on,” said Caligula, “and here you both are, visitors to the imperial presence as was your father before you. Welcome.”

Titus began to relax. The emperor himself was treating them with friendship and respect. What could be better? He glanced sidelong and caught his brother’s eye. Kaeso looked tense and anxious. His brother needed to learn to relax and to enjoy the benefits that Fortune had bestowed on them.

The audience was interrupted by the appearance of the emperor’s daughter. Little Julia Drusilla was followed by a harried-looking nurse who wore the vestments of a priestess of Minerva. The girl ran shrieking to her father. Titus wondered if something was wrong with the child, but Caligula seemed unperturbed. He opened his mouth and shrieked back at her, then took her in his arms as the two of them screamed with laughter. Father and daughter seemed to be playing a noisy, familiar game. Titus saw his wife and his sister-in-law smile and take an interest, as they tended to do in the presence of any child.

Little Julia Drusilla was thoroughly disheveled, with her golden hair mussed and her gown askew, and once her laughter subsided her petulant mood returned. With a look of alarm, Caligula noted a spot of blood on her tunic.

“What’s this?” he cried.

“It’s another child’s blood,” the priestess quickly explained. “She was playing with some other children -”

“And what happened?” asked Caesonia sharply.

“They looked at me funny, so I scratched their faces!” The little girl made a fearsome face and mimicked the clawing of a cat.

“I was afraid she might blind one of them,” whispered the priestess.

Caligula examined the girl’s hands. “Look at that – she has blood under her tiny fingernails!” He sat back on the couch and clapped his hands. “Good girl! A little she-lion, you are! Well, if ever there was any need for proof that the child is mine – as was doubted by certain gossips now deceased – there’s your proof. Like father, like daughter! By all means, if the other children should offend you, don’t stand for it. Scratch their eyes out! There’s quite a thrill in drawing blood, isn’t there, little one?”

“Yes, papa.”

“Run and say hello to my guests. I’m sure the ladies want to meet you.”

Julia first approached Artemisia, who shrank back. The little girl then turned to Chrysanthe, who managed a crooked smile and held out her hand. Julia stared at the hand for a moment, then snarled and snapped at it. Chrysanthe pulled back her hand with a cry. Julia turned and ran, laughing, to her father, who seemed as amused as his daughter at the women’s discomfort. He gave Julia a parting kiss, then sent the child and her nurse on their way.

Caesonia looked at her guests and shrugged. “Children – such a distraction! Yet they bring so much joy. Does either of you have children yet?”

Artemisia blushed and looked to Chrysanthe, who had regained her composure. “No, not yet. But as my husband says, perhaps the waiting has been a blessing, since our firstborn can now be conceived here in the city of his ancestors.”

“So young, and not yet mothers,” said Caesonia. “So you both must be very tight still.”

Chrysanthe’s smile wavered. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

Caesonia giggled and crooked her finger at Caligula, who leaned close so that she could whisper in his ear.

While the imperial couple conversed in a hush, Kaeso leaned towards Titus. “Let me have the amulet,” he whispered.

Titus frowned and shook his head. He defensively touched the fascinum where it lay hidden under his toga. He had won the toss of the dice that morning, as Kaeso was well aware.

But Kaeso was insistent. “Please, brother! Give it to me!”

“Why?”

“For protection.”

“From what?”

“Can’t you feel his presence?”

“Who?”

“The devil himself!”

Titus rolled his eyes, unable to believe that Kaeso was spouting yet another of the impious notions he had picked up in Alexandria, and in the very presence of the emperor. He gave a start when he realized that Caligula was addressing him in a sharp voice.

Titus’s face turned hot. “A thousand pardons, Dominus. I didn’t hear you.”

“Then listen more attentively, Titus Pinarius. I don’t ask unimportant questions, and I hate to repeat myself. But I will ask again, because Caesonia wants to know: are the two of you identical in every way?”

Titus raised an eyebrow. “We certainly have differences of opinion, Dominus.”

“I mean physically, you fool!” Caligula smiled, baring a bit more of his teeth than seemed normal.

“Yes, Dominus, we’re identical twins, as you can see. People remark on our similarity all the time.”

“Truly identical, in every way?”

“Yes.”

“Show us.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Show us. Caesonia wants to see, and so do I.”

“I don’t understand,” said Titus, his heart sinking.

“I think you do. Stand up and take off your togas, both of you.”

Titus and Kaeso exchanged pained glances. Neither moved.

Caligula sighed. “Please don’t be tiresome. You really have no choice. It is a god who asks this of you.”

“This is most improper,” said Kaeso.

“Improper?” Caligula seemed more amused than angry. “Do you see the armed men standing over there, beside the pillars? Why do you think they’re there? Well?”

“To protect the emperor,” said Titus, his mouth dry.

Caligula laughed. “The emperor is a god and needs no protection. Those men are here to enforce the emperor’s will, when those in the emperor’s presence are slow to obey him. Do I need to call on them now? They will use whatever force is necessary.”

Titus glanced at the faces of the guards. Perhaps this was all a game, a test of some sort, he thought, until he saw the looks on their faces. His blood turned cold.

Titus was so light-headed that he could hardly stand. He gestured for Kaeso to do likewise. When Kaeso hesitated, Titus grabbed his shoulder and pulled him to his feet. Trying to maintain an air of unconcern, as if he were alone in his own room, Titus began to unwind his toga. Normally a slave helped a master to put on his toga and to take it off as well. Titus’s hands were clumsy; the soft wool seemed determined to thwart him. He tripped over the toga and almost fell before he managed to extract himself from it, and in the process lost any pretense of dignity. Pulling the tunic over his head was easier. He stood upright, wearing only his loincloth.

Caligula and Caesonia stared at Titus intently, then turned their attention to Kaeso, who lagged behind. Eventually Kaeso stood in only his loincloth, next to his brother. At the far ends of the two couches, Artemisia and Chrysanthe were so still and quiet that they might have turned to stone.

“Go on,” said Caligula. “We must see everything.”

His face flushed, his hands trembling, Titus undid his loincloth and let it fall. Except for his shoes and the fascinum at his breast, he stood naked. From the corner of his eye he saw Kaeso drop his loincloth as well.

“Extraordinary!” Caligula rose from his couch and examined them more closely, peering at them as if they were statues, or slaves for purchase. “It is said that the gods never make two pearls, or even two peas in a pod, so alike that a man cannot tell them apart, and yet I would defy anyone to distinguish between the two of you. What do you think, Caesonia?”

“All shrivelled up like that, any two members might look alike. I think we will have to see them in a state of arousal.”

“Dominus, this is not right!” said Titus, his voice cracking. “Send away our wives, at least.”

“But your wives are essential to the experiment.”

Caesonia stood facing the brothers. She reached out and began to fondle them both at once. Titus gasped and closed his eyes. Though he would not have thought it possible, he began to respond. He felt the blood engorging his member, and little thrills of pleasure from Caesonia’s touch.

Apparently Kaeso had responded as well, for Caligula clapped his hands and laughed with delight. “Still exactly the same! Identical in every respect! Can you detect any difference, Caesonia? Weigh them each in your hand. Measure the girth and the length. Examine them carefully for blemishes or other distinguishing marks.”

Titus opened his eyes. Caesonia looked very pleased with herself and with the effect she was having on them. His head felt lighter than air and his legs were weak, but there was no denying the pleasure she was inducing in him.

“No difference at all!” Caesonia announced.

“Ah, but the hand, delicate as it may be, is an insensitive instrument compared to the lips and the tongue. Is that not true, Caesonia, based on your experience?”

“Dominus, please!” Titus begged, his voice weak. “For the emperor’s wife to do what you suggest-”

“Shut your filthy mouth!” shouted Caligula. His sudden rage made Titus blanch, yet he felt himself grow even suffer in Caesonia’s hand. “How dare you suggest such a thing? Caesonia is mine and mine alone. The very idea that she would lower herself to such an act with a mortal like you is disgusting.”

“Dominus, if I misunderstood-”

“You certainly did! Guards, bring blindfolds for these two women. And bring gags for their husbands, to keep them quiet during the experiment.”

“Dominus, what experiment?”

Caligula rolled his eyes, like a tutor with a stupid pupil. “We are going to see if your own wives can tell you apart, of course! First, we shall blindfold the women. Then we shall stand the two of you back to back. Next, we will spin your blindfolded wives around until they lose all sense of direction, then push them to their knees. Finally, your wives will show us if they can tell the difference – using only their mouths – between one twin and the other.”

The events unfolded exactly as Caligula desired. Moment by moment, Titus’s fear and humiliation were matched only by his unflagging excitement. At times he felt as if he had left his body and was floating above the scene, a mere observer of the degrading spectacle taking place below. Drawing close to form a cordon around them, the guards observed everything. Occasionally one of them snickered or grunted, and several times, when Titus was slow to cooperate, something sharp jabbed his throat or his chest or some exposed part of his body normally hidden from sight. Caesonia frequently giggled and whispered to the emperor, who oversaw the experiment with childlike delight.

A curious fact struck Titus. After all his scrutiny, Caligula had failed to notice the one thing that distinguished him from his brother, even in their nakedness: the fascinum. The little lump of gold felt alternately freezing cold and burning hot against Titus’s naked, sweaty flesh; it seemed at times to move and palpitate, as if it were alive.

As Titus reached a climax, the experiment reached a conclusion. Blindfolded, even their wives could not tell Titus and Kaeso apart.

An hour after their audience began, Titus and Kaeso and their wives were allowed to leave the palace – alive, unmarked and to all appearances unscathed. But as the elegant litters bore them back to the house they shared, the women wept and the brothers kept their eyes downcast.

“You should have given me the amulet when I asked for it,” said Kaeso.

Night had fallen. Their distraught wives had withdrawn to their bedrooms. The sleepless brothers sat some distance apart in their moonlit garden, shivering under heavy blankets.

Titus shook his head and scowled, amazed that this was how his brother should break the silence that had been uninterrupted between them since they had left the imperial house. “I should have given you the fascinum? What possible difference would that have made?”

“It might have protected Artemisia and me.”

“But it failed to protect any of us, you fool! A fascinum is meant to avert the gaze of the envious. But the emperor is a god, or something close to a god. His gaze was too powerful-”

“Caligula is not a god, and that object is not a fascinum.”

Titus shook his head. “Must you contradict everything I say, brother?”

“There is only one god-”

“No! Stop this impious talk.”

“And the thing around your neck may well be a holy talisman, but it isn’t a fascinum.”

“What is it, then?”

“Have you ever actually looked at it? Carefully? Do so now.”

Titus lifted the chain over his neck and reached for a lamp. The amulet glittered between his fingers. “I see a bit of gold, probably alloyed with some baser metal to make it more durable. Even so, it’s worn down to a shapeless lump-”

“Not shapeless, brother. It has a shape. Describe it.”

“A bit taller than it is wide, with little nubs projecting from each side. You can see how once it was a phallus with wings-”

“You see it as a winged phallus, brother, because that’s what you’re looking to see. But if you forget what you’ve been told, and simply look at it, what does it resemble?”

Titus shrugged. “A cross, I suppose.”

“Exactly! A cross – the crucifix upon which criminals and escaped slaves are hung to die.”

Titus made a face. “Crucifixion is the most disgraceful sort of death. Who would make an amulet of a crucifix? Unless they wanted to bring a curse on the wearer instead of a blessing.”

“I’m not saying our amulet began as a cross, Titus. Perhaps it is ancient, as ancient as our father thought. And perhaps it did begin as a fascinum, as Claudius believes. But it has become something entirely different. Time and divine will have transformed it.”

“I think it was transformed by a gradual wearing away, over many generations.”

“How it happened, here in this material world, is of no importance. What matters is the shape it has come to assume and what that shape symbolizes.”

“And what is that?”

“There are those who believe that the one true god, the creator of all things, manifested himself on earth as a man, and that man was put to death on a cross in Jerusalem during the reign of Tiberius.”

“Who believes such a thing? Your Jewish mystics in Alexandria?”

“They’re not the only ones.”

“Oh, Kaeso, don’t say these things to me! It’s too distressing. We’ve all suffered enough today-”

“We suffered because we fell into the hands of Satan himself-”

“Satan?”

“The Lord of Evil.”

“I thought you believed there was only one god.”

“There is, and he is all that is good.”

“But you’ve just told me there’s a god of evil called Satan-”

“Satan is not a god. Only God is god.”

Titus covered his ears. “Stop babbling, Kaeso!”

“How it happened, I don’t know, Titus. But we have been given an amulet in the form of a cross, a holy symbol, because it was on a cross that our Saviour, Jesus Christ, was killed.”

“Is that the name of your god, Jesus Christ? How could he possibly be killed? A god by definition is immortal. Are you saying there was ever only one god, and now he’s dead?” Titus trembled and began to weep. He fell from his chair onto his knees. “O Hercules, whose altar we founded! O Fascinus, worshipped by our family before the city was founded! O Jupiter, father and greatest of all the gods! My brother has been most cruelly treated today. His mind is unhinged! Let this madness pass from him quickly, let him come back to his senses, for the sake of his poor wife, for the sake of us all!”

Kaeso stood. His posture was defiant. “I’ve never spoken to you openly about these things, brother, because I feared this was how you would react. Someday I hope to bring you to the true knowledge of God, which I received in Alexandria, and which is known even here in Roma, if only by a few. The reward for enlightenment is eternal life, brother.”

“And this?” Titus, still on his knees, clutched the fascinum and shook his fist. “That was how this mad conversation began, with your claim that the amulet might have saved you. How might that have happened?”

“There must be a reason that this crucifix was given to us. Had I, as a believer, been wearing it, the power of Jesus Christ might have shielded us from the hateful gaze of Satan himself. True believers have witnessed many such miracles-”

“But you just said that your god was dead!” In anger and disgust, Titus hurled the amulet at his brother. “Here, take it! I never want to see it again. The thing is useless, not even worth the gold it’s made of. Keep it, Kaeso. Wear it every day if you like, and see what good it does you!”

“Terrible!” said Claudius, shaking his head. “T-t-truly appalling. It’s brave of you, T-Titus, to confide in me.”

They were in Claudius’s private apartment in the imperial complex. Some rumour about the twins’ ordeal must have reached him, for when Titus sent a message, asking again for a meeting, Claudius responded at once.

His invitation was addressed to both brothers, but Kaeso had refused to come, saying he would never set foot in any part of the palace again. It was just as well that Titus came alone; since the day of the audience and the argument that followed, the brothers had hardly spoken.

Titus had intended to conceal the more humiliating aspects of their audience with the emperor, but soon found himself telling the older man everything.

“It will g-g-give you no comfort,” said Claudius, “but you should know that I myself have been treated almost as shamefully by my nephew. He’s seen fit to kill many of those around him, and not from fear or suspicion, as Tiberius and even Augustus occasionally did; he seems to do it from sheer spite. He’s spared me so far, but he’s made it clear that I could d-d-die at any moment. He keeps me alive solely for the pleasure of making me squirm every now and then. More than once he’s reduced me to tears and made me b-beg for my life. I speak of this to no one, but I’m telling you, Titus, because you have been so honest with me.”

“But why didn’t you warn us, cousin? We’d heard rumours about his eccentric behaviour, but nothing prepared us for what happened.”

Claudius shrugged. “His unpredictable nature is a p-p-part of his madness. Sometimes he behaves with perfect decency. I hoped you might be lucky. I kept my distance for fear of attracting attention to you. And if I had warned you of the danger, would you have refused the audience? That would have invited something even worse – and believe me, as awful as it was, what Caligula did to you was not the most horrible atrocity he’s committed against an unsuspecting innocent.”