The Furies of Rome Read Free

this; his predecessor, Pallas, the Flavian family’s chief supporter during Claudius’ reign and the early part of Nero’s, had made his fortune as Claudius’ most trusted advisor before he had fallen from Nero’s favour at the same time as his lover, Nero’s mother, Agrippina; he was now exiled to his country estates, no longer playing a role in imperial high politics. Pallas was more fortunate than Narcissus, the man he had outmanoeuvred and replaced; Narcissus had been executed, despite his fortune – or, it could be argued, because of it.
    Unable to think where he would come up with the outrageous amount Seneca was asking for his son-in-law, Lucius Caesennius Paetus’, consulship without borrowing it from the man himself – something he would never allow himself to do – Sabinus cast his mind back to the issue from which he had been dragged away when the Emperor’s summons to dinner had arrived that afternoon. Some of the duties of the prefect of Rome were less onerous than others and the questioning of prisoners who posed a threat to the security of the Empire was one of the more pleasant tasks; and when that man was no longer a citizen and therefore Sabinus had a freer rein then it could be a positive pleasure. That pleasure was made all the sweeter in this case by the fact that this was not necessarily an imperial matter as the man in question had been sent to him by his brother, Vespasian, to be incarcerated and questioned as a favour that he needed to repay; although what that favour was owed for and to whom, Sabinus knew not.
    ‘My friends,’ Nero’s husky voice cut through the applause for the latest ode that had finally ground to an end, drawing Sabinus out of his thoughts. ‘I would that we had time for more of this sublime gift of the gods.’ Nero raised a hand to the heavens and gazed after it for a few moments, his expression composed into one of deepest gratitude; he then looked over to the lyre-player and inhaled, long and deep, his eyes closed as if he were smelling the sweetest of scents. ‘Terpnus, here, has received the blessing of Apollo with his honeyed voice and skilled fingers.’
    There were general mutterings of agreement from the audience, although those with a true ear for music found Nero’s statement exaggerated.
    Nero nodded at Terpnus before drawing himself up and filling his chest with air. Terpnus plucked a chord and then, to everyone’s astonishment, some more obvious than others, Nero let out a note, long and quavering; it was reasonably close to the chord that Terpnus had plucked but not nearly as strong nor as constant. Nero’s audience, however, chose to interpret the sound as a harmony of infinite and intricate genius rather than the lamentable discord that was the reality; they burst into unrestrained applause as soon as the note died a miserable death on the Emperor’s lips. Ladies who had suffered violent rape at Nero’s hands and those others who feared it would soon be their turn clapped demurely whilst their husbands cheered the man who would sully their womenfolk and steal their fortunes and their lives. Sabinus and Gaius joined in the lauding wholeheartedly, refraining from catching the other’s eye.
    ‘My friends,’ Nero rasped, ‘for three years now Terpnus has been training me, bringing out the innate talent within your Emperor. I have lain with lead weights on my chest; I have used enemas and emetics as well as refraining from eating apples and other foods deleterious to the voice. I have done all these things under the guidance of the greatest performer of the age; so, soon I will be ready to perform for you!’
    There was a momentary silence as the hideous thought of breaking the taboo against people of consequence – let alone the Emperor – performing in public sank in, before the audience burst into rapturous cheering as if Nero had just announced the very thing that each had desired most in life and yet, up until now, none had thought it