Nest of Vipers by Luke Devenish Read Free Book Online

Apicata well knew she would, so she stepped into her path.
    'Lady Livilla, didn't you see me here in the dark?' Apicata said. She could feel the look of contempt on the patrician woman's face – not that she cared.
    'I saw you clearly enough,' said Livilla.
    'Do you look well tonight? I would be so pleased to know.'
    There was an odour to Livilla that lay somewhere beneath the cloy gladiolus. A raw, salty smell. Fetid. Apicata's nose wrinkled as she tried to determine it.
    'I look very well indeed,' said Livilla. 'My husband tells me I am glowing like the sun.'
    'Does he? How nice for you,' said Apicata, smiling. She decided that this was where their discourse should end and she made to move on.
    But she had unleashed something within Livilla. 'Don't you want to know why?'
    With such an invitation Apicata wasn't sure how she could resist. 'Has something happened?'
    'I am with child.'
    Apicata was taken aback. 'What a wonderful thing,' she said, 'and after so many barren years since the birth of Tiberia. Your husband must have given up hope of ever getting a son.'
    Livilla remained silent, but Apicata knew she was sneering. The buried stink of her grew, as if Livilla's heartbeat was racing. The smell was sour in Apicata's nostrils. 'How many months have passed?' she asked.
    'Nearly eight,' said Livilla.
    Apicata failed to stop the look of shock that took her.
    'I'm quite advanced,' said Livilla, with pleasure in her voice at Apicata's expression. 'The augur promises me that the skies indicate a boy.'
    It was Apicata's turn for silence. If Livilla was so visibly with child, then why had no one told her of it before now? Why had her own husband, Sejanus, not bothered to report it?
    'Do you wish to feel my son?' Livilla whispered into Apicata's darkness. Before Apicata could decline, Livilla snatched at her hand and placed it on her full, taut belly. 'The augur is right, isn't he? You can tell I'm carrying a boy.'
    Apicata smelled the fecund stink of sex. Livilla was moist in her loins – an obscenity in a woman carrying child. The foul, rank odour of Livilla squeezed Apicata by the throat. She murmured the words of a curse in her mind. This child would never see adulthood and its father would fall, taking the bitch Livilla with him, she vowed. Apicata used this inner malice as a shield, a source of quiet strength. 'I believe you are right,' she said at last. 'It is the feel of a boy. I wish an easy birth for you.'
    'Thank you,' said Livilla.
    Apicata removed her hand, nodded and smiled, then made to continue her passage down the corridor. Livilla said nothing more. After several steps Apicata sensed that Livilla hadn't moved from where they had stood together – she could hear no movement in the opposite direction. Apicata continued a little further before she stopped again. She could hear nothing at all of Livilla behind her. Apicata slowly turned around. She knew that Livilla must still be standing there – and she knew that Livilla would be looking right at her.
    'You think you're untouchable?' Apicata whispered low under her breath.
    'I don't think it – I know it,' Livilla said.
    Apicata gasped at the patrician woman's blind arrogance. Then she laughed. 'Only my husband, Sejanus, is untouchable,' she whispered, 'because only my husband strives to rid Rome of traitors. Only my husband has dedicated his life to this task in his undying love for the Emperor. And only my husband can say that the hands of vile ambition can never, ever bring him down.' She waited for any sound at all to come from Livilla's direction.
    'I don't doubt your words,' Livilla said.
    Apicata remained where she was for what seemed like an eternity. Then, when Livilla's retreating footsteps told her the conversation was done, Apicata used her nose to return to the place where Livilla had stood. She dropped and held her face an inch from the floor. The juice of Livilla's sex had run down her legs, falling to the floor like raindrops.
    'She is a slut,'