Domina (Paul Doherty Historical Mysteries) by Paul Doherty Read Free Book Online Page A

gold-lined toga, his arms hanging down like those of a monkey; the deep lines on each side of his mouth only increased the likeness. He’d led the laughter. My heart froze. I had forgotten about Anicetus: as Admiral of the fleet based at Misenum, he was one of Nero’s ‘masters of the sea’. He was the Emperor’s former tutor and he hated Agrippina with all the passion of his evil soul. For a short while I caught all their enmity, malice and hostility. From the likes of Anicetus, it came hot and bubbling; from Seneca and Burrus, it was cold and businesslike.
    Behind me Nero was calling Agrippina the ‘best of mothers’ and profusely thanking the Praetorians and the captain of the bireme. It was all pretence! The blue sky, the dark line of greenery, the white shingled beach, the laughter and the greetings were a sham. We’d entered a trap. This was a death chamber: Agrippina would be lucky if she left with her life. Nero, however, was cavorting about. A tray of cups were distributed and toasts exchanged. Nero led his mother off, his arm round her waist, his head resting on her shoulder. They made their way from the beach up to the waiting litters, where the silk folds were pulled aside. Nero solicitously helped his mother up and climbed in with her. The Praetorian Guards, resplendent in their armour, circled it in a ring of steel. Tigellinus cracked a joke, and Anicetus bawled with laughter. Catching the word ‘litter’, I knew that they were resurrecting the old scandal that Agrippina had tried to seduce her own son whilst riding in a litter through Rome. The procession moved off, along the tree-lined trackway towards the imperial villa. Acerronia and Creperius took advantage of a second litter, but I decided to walk. Seneca and the others put as much distance between themselves and me as possible, but Burrus hung back. I decided not to waste time on niceties.
    ‘How dangerous is it?’ I asked. ‘Has the Augusta anything to fear from you?’
    Burrus grabbed my wrist and squeezed it tightly. ‘Remember this, Parmenon,’ he whispered back, his dark brown eyes unblinking. ‘No soldier of mine will lift a sword against the daughter of Germanicus.’
    ‘But others might!’
    ‘I can only answer for Burrus,’ the Praetorian Prefect replied, ‘not the rest of the world.’ He released my wrist and walked quickly to join the rest.
    We reached the tree-line and entered the broad avenue which cut through to the imperial villa. It was the first time I had been there since Nero had spent a lavish fortune turning it into a palace of the Gods. There were marble columns, glittering pavilions, gleaming white stone statues, gardens filled with every possible variety of shrub and tree. Torches and lamps were carefully placed to fend off the darkness. Everywhere, because of the feast, stood statues of Minerva in copper and bronze, garlanded with leaves and fresh flowers.
    Agrippina and her household were given their own pavilion in the imperial grounds. If show was anything to go by, Nero did regard her as the ‘best of mothers’. No expense had been spared, no honour ignored. Even Agrippina was impressed by the sumptuous luxury of her reception and the quarters provided. The walls and floors of the pavilion were adorned with mosaics or lined with rare marble and mother-of-pearl. Exquisite diamonds, specially imported from the mountains of Asia Minor, had been lavishly used to decorate her private apartment. Agrippina’s bed was of scented wood, inlaid with gold and covered with the richest oriental tapestries, embroidered with pearls from Palestine in Arabesque designs. The walls of this luxurious bedchamber were lined with panelling, containing revolving tablets of ivory. These were set on pivots and could be turned to display different pictures. In the ceiling, a hidden machine could, at a touch, spray perfumes, whilst through the room ran a special conduit full of fragrant water. Agrippina was ecstatic. She really