Nest of Vipers by Luke Devenish Page A

house from Castor's.'
    'Castor's house is this house – Oxheads.'
    'No, no, no,' said Tiberius. 'Castor and his household are entirely separate.'
    'The buildings are connected. It is all one.'
    'Is it?' Tiberius considered this as if the layout of the Imperial family's homes had never been revealed to him. 'Perhaps you're right. Then your house will be connected, too. We should have done it long ago, when Germanicus was still alive. We're one family, after all. As soon as your sons are moved into their new rooms in Castor's house this afternoon, we'll set the slaves to work on your walls. Then it won't feel like the boys have moved away from you at all, Agrippina. It'll feel like your house has expanded. All that extra space.'
    He placed an aged and withered arm around her shoulder again, and it felt to Agrippina like his skin was alive with worms. Tiberius returned his lips to her hair, breathing in her perfume for a moment as he nibbled at her. She willed herself to swallow her rage again.
    'When Nero turns fourteen, I will commend him to the Senate,' said Tiberius. 'I will propose that he is given the privilege of seeking the quaestorship, too, five years before the legal age, and the priesthood of Jupiter. I will ask the Senate to mark these honours with generous donatives to the people, naturally. Rome will think quite well of Nero as a result – don't you agree, Agrippina?'
    She knew he was dangling her son's future before her like a jewel. Any objections she held could only seem baseless now. 'He will be popular,' she said.
    Agrippina heard her friends' voices rise in some unseen commotion on the other side of the doors.
    'Yes, he will be,' said Tiberius. He raised his lips from her hair and placed his hands at his side. He made no signal that Agrippina should go, but neither did he say another word. Agrippina just looked at him, boring deep into his eyes. She thought she saw the glow of triumph within them. She imagined braying, mocking laughter.
    She turned on her heel and walked swiftly to the door. It was only as she was about to slap her palms on the bronze panels to summon the guards that Tiberius spoke again.
    'He'll be betrothed as well. Nero, I mean. To my granddaughter Tiberia, Castor and Livilla's girl. She's very pretty. What do you think, Agrippina?'
    'I think we'll be lucky if her mother allows her even to attend the wedding,' said Agrippina. 'What if there's a mist she might catch cold from?'
    Tiberius erupted in laughter, throwing his head back. When it ended, there were tears on his cheeks. 'Livilla's obsession with illness extends to poor Tiberia, it's true,' he said, wiping his face with his hands, 'but like all good daughters-in-law, Livilla will see the sense in following a father's advice. There will be a wedding day, mist or no mist. I'll give thought to betrothing Drusus too.'
    He paused again, looking at Agrippina with a paternal smile. Then his gaze lost focus. He saw her but no longer saw her, as if she had already left the room. 'Charicles?'
    The physician looked up from his scroll at the other side of the huge room.
    'Do I have unpleasant breath?'
    'It is possible, Caesar . . .'
    'What should I do about it?'
    'Chew ginger. And then drink perfume mixed with wine. I will arrange it for you.'
    Agrippina slapped her hands against the heavy plated doors. The Praetorians pulled them open from outside and she stumbled into the corridor, unable to choke back her sobbing. Sosia and Claudia rushed to her, trying to tell her something as the doors closed again. But Agrippina didn't hear them as she sank to the mosaic floor, her body wracked with grief for her murdered husband, her murdered mother, her murdered father, her murdered brothers and her tiny daughter too – all lost, all dead, all taken from her far too soon. She wept for her loved ones and she raged in her heart against Tiberius for what she believed was his part in so much misery.
    When no more tears were left, Agrippina allowed herself