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

believed such opulence was an eloquent testimony to Nero’s love for her. The Emperor himself escorted her into the pavilion and showed her its glory before making his farewell, adding that we would all meet at a specially prepared banquet that evening.
    ‘You see!’ Agrippina exclaimed, once the imperial party had left. ‘Don’t you see, Parmenon, this is a fresh beginning.’
    ‘We are to return to Rome?’
    ‘We are to return to Rome.’ She smiled and, clapping her hands, shouted to the servants and slaves to make her quarters ready.
    I supervised the baggage being brought in. I had a quiet word with Acerronia and Creperius. Everything was to be checked – the wine, the perfume, the sheets, the coverlets – for any trace of poison. I went outside. Dusk had fallen but the garden lights shed a golden glow, and I glimpsed armour: Burrus had apparently ringed Domina’s pavilion with a suitable guard. I trusted the Prefect but what of Nero?
    Agrippina spent the rest of the day preparing herself. She bathed in the marble tub, Acerronia rubbing precious cream and perfume into her skin. She piled her hair up, holding it in place with jewelled pins and small ivory combs. She dressed in a white stola fringed with purple and gold, a lapis lazuli gorget round her throat, gold bangles on her wrists and ankles. She looked beautiful and spun on her heel, hands extended.
    ‘Look, Parmenon!’ she cried. ‘How can any son resist a mother like this?’
    I could have wept at the sheer pathos. Agrippina looked as brilliant as some rare jewel. Yet here was the great Domina, Agrippina, daughter of Germanicus, mother of the Emperor of Rome, having to act like a courtesan to obtain what was naturally hers, Nero’s affections.
    The Emperor, of course, played his part well and responded in kind. We dined in a special pavilion of silken cloth, the air sweet with roses and honey-suckle. The tables were arranged in a horse-shoe fashion with couches, covered in gold and silver cloth, ranged along the side. Torches, candelabra and scented oil lamps lit the darkness and, as Nero proclaimed, created an artificial day in Agrippina’s honour. He escorted her to the place of glory. I was left at the foot of the table. I was glad to be there, so that I had a good view of the rest. If Agrippina had decided to gather all her enemies together in one place, she couldn’t have done better. Seneca, Tigellinus, Burrus, Anicetus and, of course, smooth-skinned Otho smirking behind his hand. Only the golden Poppea was absent.
    Musicians in the background provided music. Jugs of wine were circulated once again, and toasts were made. I saw Nero wink down the table at Anicetus and my blood ran cold. This feast may begin with laughter but it would end in tears, even death. I tried to appear distracted, as if more concerned with the nearby aviaries carved in the fashion of a temple, full of rare singing-birds, or the marble basins full of live fish which the guests could pick out for cooking. Servants and slaves of both sexes, the most beautiful Rome could supply, solicitously tended to every want. I tried to catch Agrippina’s eye but it was futile. She was only interested in Nero. As far as she was concerned, everything else was like the air we breathe, hardly to be noticed.
    At last the banquet itself began. Fish, poultry and game were brought in, followed by a roast pig stuffed with live quails which flew away when the chef slit its belly. A troop of cooks entered, preceded by a line of musicians playing flutes. The chef carried a whole boar on a huge silver salver. When this too was cut, it was seen to be stuffed with pheasants, inside which were quails, which in turn were filled with ortolans. After each course the attendants returned, allowing us to wash our hands and face in perfumed water.
    We then solemnly processed to a second pavilion where the tables were even more sumptuously laid out. From the poles hung golden lamps in which burned scented