By Pueros

Chapter LIX – Children

(Emperor Claudius’ private triclinium [dining room], Imperial palace, Palatine Hill, Rome, Maius DCCCVI A.V.C. [May 53 AD])

‘Surely to leave a permanent record of contemporary events for the benefit of posterity is worthy of the highest praise; and the real worker is not the man who merely changes the order and arrangement of another man’s work but the one who has something new to say and constructs a historical edifice of his own.’

- Flavius Josephus (in his preface to his historical record entitled ‘The Jewish War’)

“You’ve done very well, Bicilus,” Claudius kindly suggested to me after I had been granted my first audience with the Emperor since my return to Rome. I had just provided him with my report about my recent mission to Britannia, in which I had diplomatically avoided any criticism of his new Governor, Aulus Didius Gallus.

I had already been quietly summoned by Agrippina, who still regarded me as one of her allies and spies within the court, to provide her with a similar report, which was indicative of where current Imperial power was wielded, albeit only at Claudius’ acquiescence. If the Empress was ever to lose such assent from her husband, everyone knew, including herself, that not only her position but also her life would be seriously compromised.

The setting for my audience with Claudius, whom I, of course, advised about my earlier meeting with his wife in line with our secret pact, was far from formal. The Emperor, as had previously been his increasingly frequent wont, had invited me to enjoy a private dinner with him, at which I was the only guest and where we were both currently reclining in a relaxed manner on couches.

Claudius, of course, was referring in his kind compliment to my role in helping Aulus Didius Gallus to establish a truce with certain key tribes that were still resisting the Romans in Britannia. I too had not been dissatisfied with my efforts, although I regretted that the agreement probably only represented a temporary peace.

I had originally hoped that perhaps a permanent settlement might be achieved. However, I had quickly realised once I had returned to Britannia that the resentment of some tribes against what the Romans had earlier perpetrated was still too strong for a better outcome to be obtained at present.

Tribes that had allied themselves or otherwise quickly acquiesced to Roman conquest had been treated very well, although they did moan about now having to pay taxes. Meanwhile, many of those that had resisted had been mercilessly crushed by superior military capabilities, both in open battle and siege warfare, and a lot of their key settlements had been destroyed. People surviving the massacres had either been captured and enslaved or fled from their lands.

Some of these defeated people returned rather quietly and submissively later, if allowed to do so and if their property had not now been requisitioned. However, many others continued to refuse to bow to Roman suzerainty and instead still sought to gain bloody vengeance and somewhat unrealistically even retained hopes of sometime repulsing the unwanted invaders forever from their lands.

“Of…………….course,” Claudius began to advise but his verbal vacillation was not the result of stammering. The Emperor now rarely revealed this nervous infliction when alone with me, apparently because he had not only become accustomed to my seemingly genial companionship but also welcomed and felt relaxed in it.

The interruption in his planned comment had instead resulted from the necessity to concentrate for a moment on chewing a leg of chicken, which represented the current course of many that we were mutually partaking of on this warm spring evening. The seasonal climate in Rome to which I had returned was in marked contrast to the autumn and winter I had just experienced in my homeland of Britannia. However, I also realised that the almost unbearable heat of summer in the Imperial capital would soon be upon us and quietly wondered whether Claudius was considering another holiday to obtain relief from the local sea breezes in Baiae.

“Of course,” Claudius eventually repeated before adding “I was already aware of the outcome of your mission from a despatch sent by Governor Gallus, which reached Rome four months before you did.” On hearing this comment, I again marvelled at the efficiency of the Imperial courier system, or ‘cursus publicus’, although I did feel a pang of sorrow for the men involved in delivering this particular message.

Given what Claudius had told me, the despatch sent by Aulus Didius Gallus must have taken only about two or three weeks to reach Rome via a courier or couriers using a relay of horses in the mid-winter month of Ianuarius. Even Roman roads at that time of year would be bad enough but the crossing of the channel between Britannia and Gaul would have been potentially extremely dangerous.

“Gallus praises you highly in his despatch,” Claudius revealed, “and says that you were as worthy an adviser as he has ever known.” I was naturally flattered at this revelation about the Governor’s clear change in original attitude towards me, and my face blushed as a consequence.

Nevertheless, I also wondered how much was deliberate diplomatic gubernatorial obsequiousness. After all, Aulus Didius Gallus must have been concerned about whether I would inform Claudius about the almost fatal mistakes and lapses he had perpetrated early in his mission to my homeland.

In fact, Aulus Didius Gallus never should have had any worries about me telling such tales because informing on people is not in my nature unless I think that the material really has to be revealed to someone else for the greater good. As far as I was concerned, I believed that the new Governor had learnt his lesson, particularly regarding accepting informed sage counsel, and would prove worthier in his post as a result. He thankfully was not to disappoint me.

“I think that the Governor exaggerates, Sire,” I modestly suggested to Claudius. However, the Emperor disagreed.

“No…………….I…………….don’t think he…………….does…………….exaggerate,” Claudius retorted, whilst continuing to chew the leg of chicken, which was soaked in the usual fish sauce that Romans so love. Possessing different tastes, I was carefully avoiding any dish spoilt in such a way.

“In…………….fact,” Claudius added, as he finally extracted the last piece of meat with his rather worn and yellowed teeth, placed the now bony remnant of the chicken leg on a golden plate and picked up a purple napkin to wipe his mouth and hands, “with all due respect to the slave now sampling our food, I’ve concluded that, my dear Bicilus, you’re wasted as one of my tasters. I’ll advise you about what I intend to do about that situation later. Meanwhile, you tell me how your friends, Gaius Musonius Rufus and Gnaeus Julius Agricola, fared on the trip to Britannia.”

Claudius’ earlier remark caused me to glance at the handsome young slave currently acting as the Emperor’s food-taster, who was standing nearby in readiness to perform his function in respect of whatever his Imperial master wanted to consume next. The youth, who looked only about 15 years of age, was obviously new because I had never seen him previously. Given the Princeps’ frequent predilection for eunuchs in such positions, I wondered whether he too had sometime sadly suffered the loss of his balls.

The instant drift of my thoughts, towards matters of castration and the potentially intriguing implication behind Claudius’ comment that he would tell me later what he intended to do about my future role, was then quickly terminated. The relevant distraction was the Emperor’s request for additional information.

“Please also tell me how,” the grinning Claudius asked, “your Gaius Musonius Rufus left Rome with an inconsequential young slave in his service but has returned with one who’s actually a prince!” I immediately realised that Aulus Didius Gallus must have mentioned Hylas’ origins in his despatch and therefore went on to confirm what the Emperor already knew, in the process diplomatically securing from him a promise to keep the facts secret to avoid embarrassing the boy.

I also anecdotally and as amusingly as possible informed Claudius of the highs and lows experienced by my friends in return for unwisely insisting on accompanying me on my recent mission to my frequently cold, wet and inhospitable homeland. Judging from the regular genuine laughter emanating from the Emperor during my discourse, I did appear to entertain him.

In return, Claudius drifted into one of his occasional monologues. The Emperor did so after I had also described the witnessing, on our way back to Rome, of the official opening of a huge brand new aqueduct near Arelate [modern Arles, France] in the province of Gallia Narbonensis in southern Gaul [modern Languedoc and Provence, France]. As mentioned previously, we had passed through this important river port on our way out to Britannia and we had also returned via there on the way back to Rome, albeit now by means of road rather than water transport.

The new aqueduct near to Arelate actually served another regionally significant metropolis, namely Nemausus [modern Nîmes, France], which is further west on the main road to Hispania, the ‘Via Domitia’. This city of about 50,000 inhabitants is named after the eponymous Gallic god of the local stream.

Augustus, Claudius’ great uncle, had established Nemausus, on the site of the tribal capital of the local Gauls, as a colonia for the veteran legionaries who had served him well in his war against Queen Cleopatra and the present Emperor’s grandfather, Marcus Antonius, which had concluded in Aegyptia. One consequence was the adoption of a palm tree and crocodile as superficially rather incongruous municipal symbols.

We had all been keen to view the ceremonial opening of the magnificent new aqueduct [still extant and now called in modern times the ‘Pont du Gard’], which helps to provide water to Nemausus from over 30 Roman miles away beyond the town of Ucetium [modern Uzès, France]. The supply is mainly carried in underground channels or on low walls at a gentle gradient of 1:3000. However, the construction of the three-tiered engineering wonder, of squared stones, some huge and very heavy and without clamps or mortar to bind them together, had been required to cross a river gorge. Work had begun early in Gaius Caligula’s reign but had only recently been completed.

Claudius had been aware of the completion of the magnificent new aqueduct and was glad to hear first-hand from me how it had been inaugurated with due ceremonial pomp. However, the subject also caused him to embark on a monologue about Rome’s water supplies and his own role in improving them.

“As well as demanding the completion of Nemausus’ aqueduct,” Claudius proudly advised me, “I have additionally recently overseen the completion of two similar important projects for Rome, namely the Aquae Claudia and Anio Novus. These are the greatest, in terms of volume of water supplied, of the nine by now built to service my capital. They had also been commenced but then quickly neglected by my late nephew and predecessor, Gaius Caligula.” The previous Emperor was, of course, also Agrippina’s sibling and therefore additionally the current Princeps’ brother-in-law.

“Rome was initially provided with water from springs, wells and cisterns collecting rain,” Claudius appraised me, whilst, as was his common habit, diverging into his favourite pastime of historical discourse, “until the first aqueduct, the Aqua Appia, was built over 3½ centuries ago. It was named after the censor of the time, Appius Claudius Caecus, who was also responsible for the eponymous way. Like the later Aquae Vetus and Marcia, it draws supplies from river valley to the east of Rome, above Tibur [modern Tivoli], of the Anio, which was named after the Etruscan king, Anius.”

“The Aqua Vetus,” Claudius informed, “draws water from the Anio itself. However, the Aqua Marcia, which is particularly renowned for purity, is supplied by springs in the river valley.”

I was too polite to mention to Claudius that he had already provided me with this comprehensive information about Rome’s aqueducts and instead listened as patiently and as attentively as I could. However, my eyelids soon began to betray my intent and started to close.

(Domus of Aulus Plautius, Palatine Hill, Rome, same time)

‘Cantabit vacuus coram latrone viator.’

(‘The traveller with empty pockets will sing in the face of the robber.’)

- Juvenal (‘Satires’, X.22)

Suffuscus watched as the litters of his adoptive father, Aulus Plautius, and the renowned retired general’s friends and former military colleagues, Corbulo and Vespasianus, left to make the short journey to the nearby Imperial palace. Four sturdy slaves carried each curtained vehicle and another eight were in protective attendance and as discretely as possible also carrying knives and clubs.

The carrying of spears and swords by anyone other than soldiers of the Praetorian Guard or Urban Cohort is not permitted in Rome. However, even such a select area as the Palatine Hill is prone at night to having individual robbers or gangs of thieves hiding in the shadows ready to spring on victims who have foolishly ventured out with little protection. Aulus Plautius, Corbulo and Vespasianus, who had just enjoyed cena at the former’s domus, wisely did not intend to be caught out by criminals as they made their way to fulfil a favour for the Emperor.

(Emperor Claudius’ private triclinium [dining room], Imperial palace, Palatine Hill, Rome, same time)

‘The planning of temples depends on symmetry and the method of this architects must diligently follow. It arises from proportion. Proportion consists of taking a fixed module, both for the parts of the building and for the whole, by which the method of symmetry is put into practice. Without symmetry and proportion no temple can have a regular plan. That is, it must have an exact proportion worked out after the fashion of the members of a finely shaped human body. For Nature has so planned the human body that the face from the chin to the top of the forehead and the roots of the hair is a tenth part, and the palm of the hand from the wrist to the tip of the middle finger is the same.’

- Vitruvius (‘De Architectura’ [‘On Architecture’], 3.1)

“The upper part of the course of the Aqua Marcia,” Claudius continued, whilst my eyes closed, “ is actually primarily subterranean until it leaves the hills above Tibur, when it is then carried across the flat plain to Rome on an elevated arcaded aqueduct. This construction represented astonishing innovative engineering for the time, as well as the enormous cost of 180,000,000 sesterces!”

“The channels for the subsequent Aquae Tepula and Julia,” Claudius enthused more loudly, in the process momentarily causing me to reopen my eyes, “were eventually built on top of the Aqua Marcia on the approach to Rome. This development created a remarkable triple-decker of aqueducts on top of the arches.”

“Although also fed by springs in the Anio valley,” Claudius added, whilst my eyes closed again, “the Aqua Virgo, built during Augustus’ reign by Agrippa to supply his large new public baths on the Campus Martius, is the only aqueduct to enter Rome from the north. The construction of the Aqua Alsietina was afterwards organised by the first Emperor himself to supply on the western bank of the Tiber his Naumachia, which is a great artificial lake used for the staging of mock sea-battles and other large-scale aquatic entertainments.”

“The ‘Claudia’, named after me, is fed from over 40 Roman miles away by springs in the Anio valley,” Claudius boasted, “upstream from those serving the Marcia. However, it does not start the final overhead descent to Rome via an aqueduct until about 7 miles from the city. Meanwhile, the Aqua Anio Novus is, like the Anio Vetus, supplied by the actual river.”

“Augustus established under Agrippa a government body to oversee Rome’s aqueducts,” Claudius eventually concluded, “and I have continued the practice of appointing a special commissioner to ensure the system’s proper maintenance. I have also allocated him a considerable workforce, which now includes almost 500 slaves.”

Claudius must now have noticed that my eyes had closed. The Emperor therefore wished “I hope I’ve not bored you too much, dear Bicilus.”

Fortunately, the length of Claudius’ monologue on aqueducts had not yet drawn me fully into sleep and my eyes immediately reopened on somehow still being sufficiently conscious to hear this wish. I also still possessed enough awareness to provide a diplomatic reply without lying. “No, you’ve not bored me too much, Sire,” I responded.

In my opinion, Claudius’ conversational divergence into monologue had instead caused my mind to overload with the shear weight of factual information provided about Rome’s aqueducts. My brain had seemingly simply eventually defended itself by going into hibernation.

Given this state of affairs, and having been comprehensively educated again about Rome’s aqueducts, I was naturally now very keen for conversation to return to more interesting bipartisan chat. I therefore took my chance by quickly following up my denial about being too bored by changing subject and describing a visit to Nemausus.

After observing the aqueduct inauguration ceremony, we, and my party now included Axenius and Corbulo, had taken the trouble to visit Nemausus, which we discovered to be a large wealthy city, with tall walls 2½ paces wide and 4 Roman miles long. These fortifications, which, given the longstanding peace in the province, are currently more a status symbol than defensive requirement, include 19 towers, the biggest and tallest being octagonal and 40 paces high [still extant in modern times and now called the ‘Tour Magne’].

We frequented the local temples, including one [still extant and now called the ‘Maison Carrée’] dedicated to Augustus’ grandsons, Gaius and Lucius Caesar, at least one of whom might have succeeded the first Emperor instead of Tiberius if they had sadly not died young. The mathematical proportions of this building are perfectly in line with the recommendations contained in the influential book entitled ‘De Architectura’, written by the inaugural Princeps’ architectural adviser, Vitruvius, with the podium, columns and entablature related in the ratio of 2:5:2.

My own Gaius’ enquiring mind was, however, most intrigued by the local ‘castellum divisorium’, which is a basin [still partly extant in modern times] for distributing the water brought to Nemausus. Ducts in the bottom deliver essential public needs, whilst outlets in the sides supply private consumers.

The new water supply for Nemausus has allowed an expansion of the city’s existing complex of baths and decorative pools and fountains. There were also now other plans for the metropolis’ aggrandisement, including the construction of an amphitheatre, which was later built in my lifetime.

As I appraised Claudius of all these facts, in the process showing that I could almost match him in providing listeners with an excess of data, a look of satisfaction settled on his face. The Emperor then told me in a rather roundabout way why he was so happy with himself.

“Did you know, dear Bicilus,” Claudius began by asking, “that Rome’s first colony outside Italia was the city of Martius Narbo [modern Narbonne, France], which was founded just over 170 years ago by one of young Nero’s paternal ancestors, the proconsul Domitius Ahenobarbus?” I had to advise the Emperor that I had not been aware of the fact, whilst worrying that he was about to embark on another lengthy and literally mind-numbing monologue.

“Domitius Ahenobarbus,” Claudius continued, “also built the road to Hispania, part of which you travelled on to Nemausus and then from Arelate to Forum Julii [modern Fréjus, France] on your way back to Rome. The Via Domitia is named after the proconsul.” I have to confess, dear patient reader of my long autobiography, that I had not connected the route to one of young Nero’s ancestors, as I had never previously associated the paternal side of the prince’s family with any really worthwhile achievements.

“The whole of Gallia Narbonensis,” Claudius worryingly continued to digress again into further monologue, “was renamed after the city of Martius Narbo from the original title of ‘Gallia Transalpina’. However, Julius Caesar simply called it ‘nostra provincia’ [‘our province’] because of its long-term acquiescence to Roman rule and customs. Such is the peaceful compliance of the people that the place can be administered by a Governor without an army and is therefore considered to be virtually a second Italia.”

“The resultant prosperity and on-going aggrandisement of the likes of Nemausus in Gallia Narbonensis,” Claudius added, “is largely down to the energy and expense of prominent Latinised Gauls rather than resettled Romans. Consequently, such local worthies have long been afforded the privilege of being eligible to be honoured with senatorial status.”

“Ridiculous as the notion might currently appear to some Romans,” Claudius advised, “I wouldn’t be surprised if sometime in the future a city of Gallia Narbonensis like Nemausus even actually produced an admirable Emperor from its citizenry. Given the prospective benefits for the Empire, I have therefore long advocated that every effort should be made to aid the similar Romanisation of the rest of Gaul.”

“I have tried to further this policy,” Claudius informed, “by encouraging heavy investment in local infrastructure in the Roman manner, including new public buildings and works, such as the aqueduct you saw being opened, but with roads given particular priority, as I believe good communications assist the process. I have also pursued my aims by making the Senate, in the face of fierce opposition from many conservatives, agree from 5 years ago to open up membership of their august body to deserving Gauls from the other Gallic provinces.”

As Claudius spoke these words, I somehow managed to wonder, whilst fighting the serious temptation to close my eyes again, how much of his clear admiration for Romanised Gauls emanated from the fact that he had actually been born in their country at Lugdunum [modern Lyons, France]. The Emperor’s mother had been Antonia, daughter of Marcus Antonius and Augustus’ sister, Octavia. His father, who 3 months after the birth was sadly killed when he fell off his horse whilst on campaign in Germania, was the elder Drusus.

The elder Drusus was the second son of Livia and her first husband, Tiberius Claudius Nero, to whose gens the present Emperor therefore traced his paternal ancestry and owed his family names. However, Augustus had been enraptured by the woman and arranged that, despite her pregnancy, she be divorced from her spouse and be married to him.

Drusus had actually been born 3 months after Livia’s remarriage and consequently became Augustus’ second stepson. The first, his elder brother, was, of course, the future Emperor Tiberius, Claudius’ uncle.

As I recalled Claudius’ ancestry and fought back the temptation to close my eyes in response to another of the Emperor’s lengthy monologues, he thankfully suddenly stopped talking about the latest subject to capture his attention, namely Gaul. The Princeps perhaps remembered my earlier reaction to such one-sided discourse and decided that he did not want a repetition.

“Where are young Gaius Musonius Rufus and Gnaeus Julius Agricola now?” Claudius instead now asked to reawaken my own interest. I then first answered that the latter, after meeting his mother again briefly in his hometown of Forum Julii as we travelled along the Via Domitia, had returned to school in Rome. I also confirmed that the boy had not missed out on his education too much because of his participation in the trip to Britannia because my beloved had, as promised, maintained his studies by personally tutoring him.

I knew that Agricola probably disliked having to continue his education in such a way. What schoolboy does not appreciate a holiday from such intellectual toil? However, he was also too honourable not to keep his promise to his mother to maintain his studies, which had been a condition upon which she had rightly insisted when agreeing to let him travel to Britannia in the first place.

There were also two compensations for Agricola’s obedience. First, as Hylas and I well knew, my beloved Gaius was an excellent teacher who always attempted to make lessons interesting, an attribute that I believe he learnt from the late Palaemon. Second, there was often little else to do on dark, cold and damp days spent in Britannia or in the shelter of the various vehicles and inns that respectively transported and accommodated us on the way to and from there.

Of course, what no one appreciated at the time, including Agricola himself, was that his childhood trip to Britannia was to be of immense significance both to him and to many others in the future. The greatest addition to his education during the excursion was actually not to be what Gaius taught him, although such studies were truly worthy, but rather what the boy had discovered and learnt about my homeland.

In concluding my answer in respect of Agricola, I related to Claudius an anecdote concerning one educational mishap experienced by the boy when we were briefly lodged in a deversorium in Arelate during our return to Rome. Gaius had given his young pupil some private work to perform, the results of which were to be presented for scrutiny to my beloved on his wax tablet.

Unfortunately, Agricola was ultimately unable to show Gaius the fruits of his latest mental labours. The boy was instead compelled to confess rather sheepishly “Canis meus id comedit!”

“The dog ate it!” Gaius repeated back, whilst trying to hide his amusement. He fully appreciated that Agricola would never lie to him and so must be telling the truth, which was perhaps unsurprising given the size and mischief quickly acquired by Hylas’ once little and cute puppy but now huge and mischievous hound, the rather aptly named ‘Cerberus’.

“That’s a pitiable excuse,” Gaius had suggested, whilst failing to disguise his underlying amusement, “that has been used for centuries by lazy schoolboys who’ve not done their homework!” Both he and Agricola, who had recognised my beloved’s merriment at the situation, then burst into raucous laughter, as now did Claudius to whom I was relating the tale.

“My Gaius,” I eventually continued, after Claudius’ own laughter had subsided and whilst I moved on to describing the whereabouts of my beloved, on whom I was also inadvertently conferring ownership amidst the relaxed convivial conversation with the most powerful man in the world, “has now departed for Volsinii Novae.” “Oh,” the Emperor commented, “he therefore didn’t stay for long in Rome after his return from Britannia. I hope that all is well with his family in his hometown.”

By virtue of this Imperial comment, I discovered that Claudius knew from where Gaius emanated. I could not recall appraising the Emperor of this fact and so I assumed that he must have made enquiries about the young man from Volsinii.

I later made my own discrete enquiries about Claudius’ obvious curiosity about Gaius. I was helped in doing so by my fortunate clear status as an Imperial favourite, which currently garnered sometimes genuine but sadly more often fawning assistance from palace colleagues.

I was flattered to discover that Claudius had apparently checked on Gaius’ background to ensure that he was worthy of me. I was equally pleased to note that the ultimate Imperial assessment was seemingly that the young man from Volsinii truly justified my love and devotion.

“I too hope that all is well, Sire,” I replied in answer to Claudius’ last remark and whilst still subconsciously claiming ownership in respect of my beloved, “because he’s returned home to be present at the birth of his first child!”

(Villa of Gaius Musonius Rufus, near Volsinii Novae, Etruria [modern Bolsena, Italy], same time)

‘Nascentes morimur.’

(‘Even as we are being born, we begin to die.’)

- Marcus Manilius

Gaius was pacing up and down a part of the narrow pavement that skirted the large rear garden of his lakeside villa near his hometown. The pathway was also adjacent to the bedroom in which his wife, Sethra, was in labour.

The sun had long set. However, the full moonlight illuminated the outline of the nearby lofty hill, upon which the original Volsinii, or Velzna to the native Etruscans, had been built until razed to the ground during a war with the Romans over three centuries previously.

The original Velzna had been situated on an acropolis overlooking the lake below and the tributary of the River Tiber that ran from it. The city had been surrounded by a girdle of imposing protective walls.

Velzna had been considered by the Etruscans to be the spiritual centre of their country, mainly because nearby was the sanctuary of Votumna, or ‘Fanum Voltumnae’. The annual gathering of the twelve cities of their nation took place there to the accompaniment of feasts and other celebrations.

Among the prizes pillaged from Velzna by the Romans were over 2000 statues, carted off to Rome for the embellishment of the conquering city’s temples and other public buildings. Many remain in place in my day.

The surviving Volsinineses had subsequently only been allowed by the victorious Romans to resettle on the less favourable plain below the hill, adjacent to their large eponymous lake. However, the original lofty site of Velzna remains, perhaps only naturally, rather sacred to the native populace.

Even Gaius, who was half Roman, felt a great affinity towards the sacred hilltop close to his villa. Although he was religiously agnostic, he nevertheless therefore currently felt compelled to pray to his maternal Etruscan ancestors, who had inhabited this area since before the beginnings of recorded history.

Gaius prayed sincerely for the welfare of the child about to be born in the nearby bedroom. As he did so, he suddenly heard a baby crying.

(Emperor Claudius’ private triclinium [dining room], Imperial palace, Palatine Hill, Rome, same time)

‘If you do not hope, you will not win that which is hoped for, since it is unattainable and inaccessible.’

- Heraclitus (fragment VII)

“Ah, yes, of course he has; I’d forgotten that your Gaius was an expectant father,” Claudius next commented, whilst further revealing the extent of his knowledge about my beloved and also apparently confirming my proprietoral rights on the young man from Volsinii. “Yes, Sire,” I responded, “and I just hope that he’s arrived in time to witness the birth.” “As you know, Sire,” I continued, “my mission to Britannia took longer than anticipated, which therefore endangered Gaius’ promise to his wife and his and her parents to be home for the birth. He sadly missed the safe entry into this world of the child of two of his slaves and certainly did not want to do the same with his own offspring.” I was, of course, referring in this last statement to the baby son of Endymion and Selene, Aetolus, who had been born in the previous month of Aprilis. “I suspect,” I added in jest, “that my Gaius might, if he hasn’t succeeded in being in time for the birth, return to us like me, a eunuch. The actions of retribution of an angry spouse or, more likely, formidable mother might result in such a tragedy!” Claudius laughed again at my latest quip, although I was unsure whether the mirth was mainly as a result of my further attempt at humour or the considerable amount of excellent but undiluted Falernian wine that he had consumed by this time. Whilst the Emperor chortled, I could not help but also wonder how indeed Gaius was faring back home in Volsinii Novae. My mind silently prayed to the gods that my beloved would be present at the birth of his child, whom I also pleaded of the deities would be healthy and ultimately worthy of being the offspring of such a truly meritorious person as Gaius Musonius Rufus.

(Villa of Gaius Musonius Rufus, near Volsinii Novae, Etruria [modern Bolsena, Italy], same time)

‘Whoever obeys the gods, to him they particularly listen.’

- Homer (‘Iliad’)

After hearing a baby cry, Gaius rushed to go back inside his opulent villa via the main doorway. Most Romans are superstitious about entering a house, always doing so with the right foot first and never touching the sacred ‘limen’, or sill.

Gaius was the least superstitious person I knew. Nevertheless, he later told me that, on this occasion, he made sure that he re-entered his villa in the customary manner.

Even though Gaius was agnostic about gods and spirits, he saw no reason not to insure himself by following superstitious tradition this time in case such deities did exist and were watching. After all, he now had to consider not only his own welfare but also that of his wife and newly born child.

Gaius’ caution appeared to be rewarded when he arrived in Sethra’s bedroom. There, in the loving arms of his seemingly very contented wife, rested a naked baby boy.

“Thanks to Juno Lucina, we have a healthy son, Gaius,” Sethra proudly advised her husband. She was, of course, referring in her announcement to the main goddess of childbirth.

There are many other gods connected with childbirth. For example, Vitumnus gives life to the womb, Alemonia watches over embryos, Deverra and Prorsa Postverta over labour and Candelifera, Carmenta and Decima over actual entry into this world, whilst Rumina looks after nursing mothers.

Consideration of this multitude of deities was, however, not currently foremost in Gaius’ enraptured mind. His thoughts were instead concentrating in awe at the miracle of new life in Sethra’s arms.

Sethra eventually gave the baby to the attendant slave midwife, who in turn placed the child carefully on a readied pillow on the floor. Gaius appreciated that he was now being invited to acknowledge the child as his son in the ritual of ‘sublatus’.

As I once described the late unlamented Caius Silius had done, fathers have the right at such moments to reject babies. If they do so, the children are often subsequently disposed of through exposure to the elements and carnivores on a lonely hillside or in a similarly suitable wild rural setting.

Of course, Gaius joyously ritually acknowledged his son without hesitation by carefully lifting the baby from the pillow on the floor and holding the child aloft in the ritual of ‘sublatus’. Tears of happiness then began to flow down my beloved’s face as he next cradled his beautiful child in his own arms and whilst the boy’s gorgeous hazel eyes, which were virtual replicas of his own, glanced enquiringly back at him.

So enraptured was the young man from Volsinii by the baby in his arms and the fact that he was now a father that he barely heard a comment from Sethra. She remarked “Judging from the colour of the few wisps of hair on our son’s head, Gaius, I believe that he’s going to be another ‘Rufus’!”

(Antechamber to Emperor Claudius’ private triclinium [dining room], Imperial palace, Palatine Hill, Rome, same time)

‘Idem velle atque idem nolle ea demum firma amicitia est.’

(‘To like and dislike the same things is indeed true friendship.’)

- Sallust (‘Bellum Catilinae’, 20)

“Thank you again for doing this for the Emperor, friends,” Aulus Plautius said to his fellow generals, Corbulo and Vespasianus, as they waited together in the antechamber outside Claudius’ private triclinium. Meanwhile, a slave entered the adjacent dining room to confirm with quiet discretion the arrival of the trio to the Princeps by means of a simple nod of the head.

“I understand that the favour for the Emperor is unusual,” Aulus Plautius added, “but I believe that you both know and like the slave involved.” “I’m sure that I speak for both of us,” Corbulo replied with kind sincerity, “when I say that we were happy to receive the Imperial invitation, although I have to ask whether you’re positive that the mere pair of us constitutes the necessary legal council?”

“Claudius has himself, in his role of chief magistrate,” Aulus Plautius answered, “declared that the two of you formidable citizens are sufficient in number and quality for the occasion. I doubt if anyone will ever query such a ruling from the Emperor’s own lips.” “I’m sure your right,” the reassured Corbulo responded.

“I’m therefore truly honoured,” Corbulo continued, “that the Emperor has asked me to be present, although I’d like to ask another question relating to the matter. I appreciate that Claudius realises that Vespasianus knows the young servant in question quite well from once being sent to rescue him from life as a galley slave but how did he appreciate that I’ve also recently become acquainted with the boy?”

“Claudius,” Aulus Plautius answered, “might now largely restrict himself to the palace and his favourite pastimes, whilst his wife guides Imperial affairs. However, the Emperor is still kept well informed about issues that interest him.”

“And the young slave interests him?” Corbulo queried, whilst raising his eyebrows and obviously searching suspiciously for a reason for the apparently special Imperial regard. “I know,” Aulus Plautius began to reply before coughing in slight embarrassment and then continuing “that the servant is well favoured as far as boyish looks are concerned, although I understand that sometime recently he must have passed his 21st birthday.”

Aulus Plautius had correctly perceived what suspicion was uppermost in Corbulo’s mind. “However,” he therefore added, “certain of Claudius’ tastes remain solely concerned with the female form. The Emperor simply likes this particular young slave’s praiseworthy character, ability and loyalty, as well as regular conversational company, and he has now also identified an important job that requires such attributes, plus what is about to be bestowed.”

“Please forgive my suspicious mind,” Corbulo responded, “but I have to confess my own interest in the welfare of the young slave. As you must know, I recently travelled with him and his companions from Gaul to Rome and I too came to appreciate his character. I also became aware that he already has a lover to whom he’s clearly completely devoted and I was consequently rather worried what Imperial favour of a certain kind might entail for this relationship.”

“You just have a dirty mind,” Vespasianus jokingly interrupted to comment, knowing that Corbulo would forgive such a jest from a close friend. His belief was proved correct when his fellow general retorted “It’s not as filthy as yours, you old rake!”

Loud laughter then reverberated around the antechamber, after which Aulus Plautius asked of Corbulo, in respect of the latter’s new gubernatorial appointment and whilst they awaited permission to enter the adjacent triclinium, “When do you set off for Asia?” “Next week,” was the answer.

“You’ve had to wait a long time for another well-earned governorship,” Aulus Plautius subsequently remarked, “after your notable achievements in Germania. However, as Vespasianus here is unfortunately now discovering after his own triumphs with me in Britannia, the Emperor doesn’t like anyone, even friends, to enjoy too much success.”

“Of course, Claudius’ policy,” Aulus Plautius continued in mitigation, “is not one of jealousy or spite but of sensible self-protection. The Emperor is just keen to prevent anyone from becoming so over-mighty that they might endanger his own position. He has too often witnessed during his long life betrayal between supposed friends and even family members.”

“Sadly, though,” Aulus Plautius added to his own trusted friends, whilst his voice lowered to a whisper to avoid being overheard by anyone else, “Claudius’ sage policy has not been applied to his wife!”

(Empress Agrippina’s bedchamber, Imperial palace, Palatine Hill, Rome, same time)

‘Does it matter so much where, or with whom, you perform the sexual act?’

- Mark Antony, in a letter to Octavian, who later became Emperor Augustus

“Now lick it!” the Emperor’s naked wife commanded, whilst referring to her own clitoris. However, Agrippina’s order was not on this occasion being conveyed to a male sexual partner, as she enjoyed variety.

Instead, one of Agrippina’s young and very pretty slave handmaidens, who was similarly nude, was lying face downwards between the Empress’ splayed legs in readiness to provide her mistress’ groin with the requisite oral attention. However, the buxom 16 year-old girl, whom the bisexual Augusta had earlier fondled very intimately to bring herself to a height of arousal, was hesitating because she did not particularly relish the demanded chore.

“Lick it,” Agrippina again commanded in increasing exasperation, as the girl’s hesitation became prolonged, “or I’ll have you flogged!” The Empress was then rewarded for issuing her threat when the tip of a young tongue started to tickle a particularly sensitive part of her anatomy.

(Emperor Claudius’ private triclinium [dining room], Imperial palace, Palatine Hill, Rome, same time)

‘Fallaces sunt rerum species.’

(‘The appearances of things are deceptive.’)

- Seneca the Younger

I was sure that Claudius was drunk when, in response to a slave entering the triclinium unannounced and nodding, he now ceased our conversation and clambered off his couch to assume a rather unsteady standing position. To my bemusement, the Emperor then collected a magisterial rod, or ‘vindicta’, which the servant had peculiarly been carrying.

Claudius initially waved the rod around without speaking and his strange action only helped to reinforce my bewilderment as to his intent and belief about his inebriation. Both my perplexity in respect of his motive and my conviction about his insobriety increased further when the Emperor subsequently eventually broke his silence to request me to stand too before acquainting me with a couple of rather bizarre facts.

“In the Republican era, Bicilus,” Claudius stated mysteriously, whilst still waving his rod, “your head would be shaved in advance and your master would now ask you to kneel!”

(Villa of Gaius Musonius Rufus, near Volsinii Novae, Etruria [modern Bolsena, Italy], same time)

‘Fathers are the cause of life, but the wise are the cause of wholesome life.’

- Pythagoras

“Sethra doesn’t want a wet nurse,” the new very proud father, Gaius, again advised his own formidable mother, “because she insists on using her own breast-milk for our son.” “But, my boy,” the redoubtable parent snootily retorted in annoyance, after discovering what her daughter-in-law was currently doing, “girls of her class just don’t do such things. We have servants and slaves for such chores!”

“Well, mother,” Gaius replied, with admiration for his independently minded wife clearly evident in both his facial expression and voice, “you’ll just have to become accustomed to the fact that Sethra isn’t like any other girl of her class. I’m also not going to forbid her from doing what she believes is right. So accept the fact and enjoy the meal!”

“She could at least swaddle the child as is customary,” Gaius’ mother next protested, changing the subject on astutely realising that she was not to win the other argument. “Sethra considers swaddling too confining and therefore unhealthy for a baby,” her son responded, “and prefers the looser garments in which our son is now dressed. I sympathise with her viewpoint for, if she’s correct, infant mortality is high enough without adding to the dangers!”

“You weren’t harmed by being swaddled,” Gaius’ mother argued. “You don’t know that,” my beloved answered, “because I might perhaps have been a more dutiful son to my parents if I hadn’t been!” However, the sweet smile accompanying this remark indicated that he was seeking to diffuse the dispute by jesting rather than relating a truism.

Gaius followed up his jest with another request for his mother to accept Sethra’s attitude to childcare and enjoy the meal. He was helped when his father, who was normally rather timid when confronted with his wife’s displeasure, commented to his spouse, whilst glancing at the other guests who had been listening, “Yes, dearest, don’t spoil the occasion!” He was rewarded with an affronted look from the woman but thankfully also compliance.

The quietude now exhibited by Gaius’ mother was undoubtedly aided by the presence at the customary special celebratory meal of Sethra’s own parents and other family guests. As was traditional immediately after a birth, such a sacred dinner is dedicated to Picumnus and Pilumnus, who are two jolly rustic gods for whom a symbolic made-up bunk is kept in some conjugal bedrooms.

Sethra was missing the dinner because she had remained in her bedchamber, where she was not herself so dedicated to Picumnus and Pilumnus that a bunk for them had been added to the furniture in the room. She was happily breast-feeding her new child, whilst confirming in her mind what she wanted him to be named. Meanwhile, Gaius’ mother was now concentrating on influencing her son over the same subject.

Names are given to girls and boys respectively eight and nine days after birth. The time-lag is to ensure that the children in question, who have no legal status as people during this time, survive the dangerous early period of life to deserve formal recognition.

Nevertheless, Gaius’ mother apparently wanted the naming decision made now. The child’s equestrian status would require a three-part appellation but she was most concerned with the first because the other two were essentially already settled.

The second part, the family name, or ‘nomen’, would, of course, be Musonius. The third, or ‘cognomen’, would probably have to be Rufus, given that the child’s most significant feature would apparently be to match his father in hair colouring. Consequently, only the first, or ‘praenomen’, needed to be determined, and the choice was restricted to a very short fixed list of less than thirty, of which just fifteen or so are commonly used, with only two or three of these utilised by particular gens. For example, as I have quoted previously, most boys of the Julii clan were either Gaius or Sextus, hence Gaius Julius Caesar.

As far as the Musonii were concerned, Gaius and Quintus were most traditional. However, my beloved’s mother suggested, whilst revealing a particular liking for the dour second Emperor because her family had prospered in his reign, “I think ‘Tiberius’ would be ideal!”

Gaius felt another disagreement brewing.

(Emperor Claudius’ private triclinium [dining room], Imperial palace, Palatine Hill, Rome, same time)

‘Imperium et libertas.’

(‘Empire and liberty.’)

- Cicero

My querying of Claudius’ sobriety was to change after I obeyed his command to stand and the Emperor again clapped his hands. In response, yet another slave escorted the grinning Aulus Plautius, Gnaeus Domitius Corbulo and Titus Flavius Vespasianus into the private Imperial triclinium from the adjacent antechamber.

Claudius finally began to explain the strange situation by then advising my stunned self “I had planned, dear Bicilus, to confer this in my will. However, I’ve now changed my mind and decided that you’re of much greater use to my family and the Empire in the role whilst I’m still alive. I hope that you’re happy to accept.”

My bemused mind initially decided that Claudius was finally about to confer on me another role as an Imperial slave, which would no longer involve sampling his food. I was in fact imminently to be shocked to discover that my new job was to entail tasting something completely different and entirely unexpected.

Aulus Plautius now took up position immediately behind me, whilst holding something in his hands that my bewildered mind could not quite identify, and gently grabbed my shoulders. Looking at Claudius, Corbulo and Vespasianus, he then declared “hunc hominem liberum volo!”

Claudius remained silent in response. However, after allowing a short interval to pass, during which he glanced at Corbulo and Vespasianus, who both nodded affirmatively, the Emperor then surprised me by tapping me gently on my head with his rod.

Aulus Plautius then turned me round, gave me the item that he had been holding and gently pushed me away from him. I immediately looked down to see that I was now carrying a felt skullcap expensively dyed purple.

I also finally realised what had just occurred.

(Domus of Petronius, Quirinal Hill, Rome, same time)

‘Happiness resides not in possessions, and not in gold, happiness dwells in the soul.’

- Democritus

“You’ve never told me how you acquired your name, Encolpius,” Petronius commented to his older 22 year-old eunuch. The younger, 15 year-old Giton, could not help but giggle in response.

Petronius, who was himself now 27 years of age, was sharing his nightly repast with his favourite slaves, as was his common practice when he had no guests or had not been invited for dinner elsewhere. The trio reclined on comfortable couches in his triclinium.

In most households, such favouritism would cause rancour amongst the other servants. However, in that of the ‘elegantiae arbiter’, both the master and his pair of eunuchs were so popular that there was no resentment whatsoever.

“Now, Giton,” Petronius reprimanded, “don’t chortle at Encolpius because of his unfortunate name. I’m sure that I can devise one equally embarrassing for you.” The boy immediately ceased his giggling.

Petronius was, of course, asking Encolpius about his name because the word can alternatively be used to mean ‘crotch’. Fortunately, the older eunuch was by now well accustomed to the merriment and teasing of others in respect of his appellation and was not at all disturbed to discuss the matter with his kindly owner and lover.

“You’ve never asked me before, Master,” Encolpius pointed out in initial response. “This is the first time that I’ve acquired the courage to have the gall to do so,” Petronius replied.

“I suspect that the copious undiluted wine you’ve been consuming,” the mischievous Giton interrupted to comment, not without foundation, “might be an important factor in the acquirement of your courage, Master!” Soon afterwards, a grape, accurately thrown by Petronius despite his developing inebriation, vengefully hit the boy’s cute nose.

“It’ll be the whole bunch next,” the grinning Petronius jokingly next threatened, “if you don’t stop your teasing of your betters, Giton.” Turning back to Encolpius, the elegantiae arbiter then requested “So, tell me finally how you acquired your name.”

“The slave name given me at birth was originally ‘Iphicles’,” Encolpius compliantly began to answer, “after the Greek mythical hero who was Heracles’ half-brother. However, as I grew, my physical development in a certain part of my anatomy noticeably appeared to outgrow other aspects and so the cruel estate steward, who had a wicked sense of humour, re-titled me.”

“I was, of course,” Encolpius continued, “at first acutely ashamed and subject to much derision amongst the rest of the large workforce on the latifundium because of my renaming by the vilicus. However, my attitude began to change to pride when my notable assets eventually earned me the cognomen of ‘Magnus’ and I started to attract the attention of a lot of the females on the estate, at least until I was caught making love to one whom I truly cherished.”

“I’m afraid that my subsequent castration as punishment on the orders of the cruel vilicus,” Encolpius added, causing some depression amongst his two fellow diners, “displaced my pride at my name and again brought back only shame!” However, he then managed to lift the spirits of his companions when he commented “But I no longer feel disgraced or sorry that I’ve lost my balls because, if I’d remained intact, I’m sure that I would never have met you two!”

(Emperor Claudius’ private triclinium [dining room], Imperial palace, Palatine Hill, Rome, same time)

‘Dignity consists not in possessing honours, but in the consciousness that we deserve them.’

- Aristotle

Claudius was not drunk, nor was Aulus Plautius playing some silly new party game by uttering a certain customary phrase, turning me around and pushing me away from him with a cap in my hand. Having earlier stated his grounds, or ‘causa’, in the traditional brief manner, the renowned general was instead helping his friend and my master, the Emperor, to honour me with a great gift.

Claudius, my owner but on this occasion more importantly Rome’s senior magistrate, had just presided over the ceremony of ‘manumissio’. The completion of the ritual requires, for a slave aged under 30, the consent of a magisterial council, or ‘consilium’, and so the Emperor had enlisted the compliant Corbulo and Vespasianus to fulfil this, in this case purely technical, function.

My new cap, or ‘pileus’, was symbolic of my manumission, which meant that Claudius had just ceremonially freed me from slavery with immediate effect.

Instead of sampling Claudius’ food, I was now a freedman who was unexpectedly tasting liberty.

(Domus of Petronius, Quirinal Hill, Rome, same time)

‘Some say an army of horsemen, some say infantry, some say ships are the noblest sight on dark Earth, but I say what one loves.’

- Sappho

Petronius continued to look at Encolpius, with his love of the eunuch only enhanced further by the slave’s last comment. The elegantiae arbiter then felt obliged to offer him a change of name to one less embarrassing, perhaps back to the original ‘Iphicles’.

“No thank you, Master,” Encolpius surprisingly replied to the offer, “but I’m now accustomed to my current name, which somehow still seems appropriate to me as a reminder of what I once had. However, my loss is definitely outweighed by the gain of knowing you and Giton!”

Petronius knew from the look of honest sincerity in Encolpius’ sensuous eyes that his older eunuch was not being obsequious but was instead being completely truthful. The heart of the elegantiae arbiter fluttered emotionally at perceiving such genuine devotion.

(Emperor Claudius’ private triclinium [dining room], Imperial palace, Palatine Hill, Rome, same time)

I now sounded like Claudius in public. I stammered my response to the Emperor’s gift of manumission.

“I….a….a….am….g..g..greatly….h..h..honoured,” I eventually managed to splutter, “b..b..b..b..” “But w….what….d….do I want you t….t….to do as an Imperial f….f….freedman?” Claudius kindly completed what I intended to ask, with the sudden return of his own stutter now due to the presence of others.

“W….w….well,” the smiling Claudius answered, “first stop n….n….nervously stuttering as if you were m….m….me!” I could not help but sheepishly grin back on hearing this reply.

“S….s….second,” Claudius then began, just prior to appraising me of my new role.

(City of Elis, Roman Province of Achaea, Greece, same time)

‘Praemonitus, praemunitus.’

(‘Forewarned is forearmed.’)

- Roman proverb

Athenodorus and Melankomas were readying themselves to sleep in adjacent bunks. They were in the large barracks provided by the people of Elis for the many athletes preparing to embark on the customary compulsory 3-months of preparation in their city for the forthcoming 208th Olympiad.

As Athenodorus and Melankomas prepared for slumber, a grinning Kallikles walked past, as usual with some cronies in tow. The unscrupulous Sidonian paused at sight of his hated arch-rival, whom to his intense chagrin he had still never beaten, and smirked.

“Well, Aigionian,” Kallikles addressed Athenodorus, with clear venomous hate in his voice, “we are to compete once more against each other in an Olympiad. This time, I assure you, I’ll win!”

“You’ll never be as fast as Athenodorus,” Melankomas retorted on behalf of his friend and lover. “Perhaps not,” Kallikles unexpectedly confessed in response.

“However,” Kallikles then worryingly added before marching off with his cronies, “I’ll always be more wickedly cunning!”

(Emperor Claudius’ private triclinium [dining room], Imperial palace, Palatine Hill, Rome, same time)

‘So-and-so is not a free man unless he has been set free by entry in the census roll [censu], or by touching with the rod [vindicta], or by will [testamento].’

– Cicero (‘Topica’)

Until the reign of Augustus, laws governing the various methods of legally freeing, or ‘manumitting’, a deserving slave, or ‘servus fidelis’, were basically simply based, like much other legislation from the republican era, on the codification of existing social practices. The relevant edicts, which are still in force but with amendments imposed by the first Emperor, describe four main ways of emancipating a servant, which confers citizenship as well as liberty.

First, manumission can be achieved simply by entering the name of the emancipated slave as a new freedman in the census roll, or ‘censu’, which is drawn up afresh every 5 years. However, this method is not particularly favoured because of the need to wait until the next citizenship listing.

Second, manumission can be achieved much more readily and therefore popularly through a ceremony, which can be performed anywhere, involving a magistrate with authority, or ‘imperium’, to act so, plus an ‘adsertor libertatis’, or ‘advocate of freedom’. The latter has to be a Roman citizen and is usually a friend of the master or the lictor of the magistrate.

The advocate asserts, in an action termed ‘vindicatio in libertatem’, or ‘claim for freedom’, that the slave is actually a free man. He does so in the presence of the master, who symbolically does not challenge the statement. The magistrate subsequently touches the servant with his rod, called a ‘vindicta’, emancipating him, and the adsertor libertatis ritually pushes the new freedman away, which is symbolic of letting him go forth into liberty.

Livy gives an account in his history of Rome that purports to explain the origins of this ritual. About half a millennium ago, a slave called Vindicius apparently informed the Consuls of the young republic of a conspiracy to restore the monarchy. He was ceremonially rewarded with freedom and citizenship and, since he was supposedly the first person emancipated in this way, ‘vindicta’ manumission refers to his name.

The third main method of manumission is by legal adoption of the slave as a family member. This process does not create a new freedman but instead actually confers freeborn, or ‘ingenuus’, status.

Consequently, Palaemon’s eventual adoption of his slave and later freedman, Axenius, meant that the latter was ultimately considered to be fully freeborn. My Germanian friend’s subsequent similar kindly action in respect of young Arius conferred the same status on that boy too.

These first three methods of manumission are termed ‘inter vivos’, or ‘between living persons’. In the fourth way, a slave can be freed in the master’s will, or ‘testamento’. This system is also popular because it costs the owner nothing, as he has just died, and brings prestige to his funeral because those he has emancipated are obliged to attend, demonstrating the deceased’s magnanimity by following his bier whilst wearing their newly acquired freedman caps, or ‘pilei’.

The pileus is the only form of dress that distinguishes freedmen from the freeborn. The caps are notably also often worn for fun by slaves during the annual festival of the Saturnalia, which I have previously described.

Only with ‘testamento’ manumission can the master impose a formal condition for the potential freedman to fulfil before becoming fully eligible for liberty and citizenship. For example, either a money payment or stipulated number of years of service for the owner’s heir could be required or, for a female, the production of a certain number of slave children.

Roman slaves can actually earn money, and not just in tips and bribes. In order to improve loyalty and productivity, some masters allocate a financial allowance called a ‘peculium’, which servants can use for themselves, although the grant technically still belongs to the owners. Those in servitude might also be allowed to boost their earnings by performing remunerated work for other people.

A slave’s savings accumulated through his peculium is sometimes used to buy liberty outright before the master’s death. The owner thus retrieves years of allocated allowance whilst still having benefited from the labour provided during this period, although the more generous in turn immediately give back the payment as a gift to the new freedman on emancipation, or do so in their wills.

Under conditional ‘testamento’ arrangements, the slave legally becomes a ‘statuliber’, who is technically still in servitude and treated by the heir just like property, including being potentially subject to resale. However, if purchased by another, emancipation remains achievable upon fulfilment for the new owner of the original prerequisite in the will and, if there are any deliberate attempts to prevent the provision from being accomplished, the law allows the servant to appeal for immediate freedom.

Augustus’ amendments to the laws relating to manumission were essentially designed to protect the moral character of the Roman nation. The first Emperor considered himself to be the guardian of the state’s integrity.

The practice of emancipation is generously followed in Rome in contrast to the rest of the known world, although not always for purely altruistic reasons. Because the generosity extends to granting not only freedom but also citizenship, Augustus considered that he was duty-bound to ensure that liberated slaves were worthy of the honour and he therefore introduced three new pieces of legislation in order to do so.

The ‘lex Fufia Caninia’ limits the number of slaves that can be freed in a will. Such ‘dead men’s freedmen’, or ‘orcini’, are considered less desirable than other types because they are more liable not to possess strong bonds and obligations to the surviving family or the wider community.

The slightly later ‘lex Aelia Sentia’ formally established five more preconditions for granting freedom and citizenship. Three related to the need for proper recorded legal process, the exclusivity of the liberating master’s ownership rights and the worthiness of the candidate. The fourth set a minimum age of thirty, unless a magisterial council, or ‘consilium’, accepts that there is a just reason to grant an under-age slave’s freedom. The fifth prevents an owner under twenty from manumitting unless the same process is followed.

Just reasons for under-age manumission are normally considered to exist when freedom is sought of a consilium for a natural son, daughter, brother or sister, or a child, an ‘alumnus’, reared by the master. Owners can also usually secure liberty for ‘pedagogi’, servants whose job used to be to look after them during childhood, for someone with particular skills, whom they intend to employ in an important post, or for slave girls whom they propose to marry.

As mentioned in a previous chapter, the ease with which magisterial councils agree to under-age manumissions can be considerably facilitated if the petitioning master is of particular importance or is rich enough to offer discreet bribes. For example, Palaemon’s freeing of young Helius, for whom a just reason for granting of liberty and citizenship was difficult to prove, was aided by quietly gifting the members of the relevant consilium a generous amount of gold coinage to guarantee success.

Despite the laws, casual manumission is also common, with those involved not bothering with formal processes generally because of the trouble or cost or both. Augustus’ third law on the subject, the ‘lex Junia’, infers that such emancipation is a customary stepping stone to conventional liberation and liberally gives all such slaves a distinctive legal status and makes possible their eventual attainment of Roman citizenship.

Manumission tends to be an urban phenomenon and the most prevalent reason is economic. Slaves and freedmen make up much of Rome’s workforce, supplying the bulk of labourers, artisans, shopkeepers, doctors, teachers and architects, whilst most businesses in which they are employed are owned or managed by freeborn citizens or foreigners.

Granting manumission relieves urban entrepreneurs from the financial and other burdens of maintaining slaves, whilst reserving the right to exploit their former servants, often to more advantage than before. The traditional concept of ‘fides’, or ‘faithfulness’, obliges freedmen to offer both services, ‘operae’, and allegiance, ‘obsequium’, to their former masters in return for the gift of liberty, ‘libertas’, and citizenship, ‘civitas’. They are also expected to leave half of their property in their own wills to their patrons in the absence of natural heirs.

Manumission therefore swells the number of economically beneficial employees and clients for owners of slaves. Emancipation also recognises and rewards servants of merit and boosts the morale and productivity of those still in bondage, who might aspire to similar liberty.

Manumission is, of course, additionally granted for less pragmatic reasons than gaining economic benefits. Household slaves are often understandably regarded as members of the extended family, and this fact is evidenced by their common classification as ‘familia urbana’. Sincere affection is regularly a motive to free such servants.

Rich masters, however, generally do not consider slaves involved in agriculture on their countryside estates in the same way as they do their urban household staff. Agrarian handbooks often discuss rural servants as if they are mere farm tools, with owners desiring from them long-term quiet hard work rather than intelligence, which is not unlike their requirements for farm animals.

Palaemon’s generosity to his own young rural slave, Helius, was exceptional. The unusual nature of such kindness was increased by the fact that the renowned teacher sought no ‘operae’ or ‘obsequium’ from his new freedman and instead allowed him to enter Imperial service without preconditions.

In my own under-age manumission, Claudius met the legal formalities required by Augustus’ lex Aelia Sentia by acting as the magistrate himself and appointing his friend, Aulus Plautius, as the adsertor libertatis and Corbulo and Vespasianus as the required consilium. Without boasting, I have to say that I doubt that a slave has ever been freed in such august company.

My own manumission by Claudius did also come with moral need to offer operae and obsequium, and I was, for this and other reasons, more than happy to confirm my obligation to the new role he had in mind for me.

(Nero’s bedchamber, Imperial palace, Palatine Hill, Rome, same time)

‘It is a painful thing to look at your own trouble and know that you yourself and no one else has made it.’

- Sophocles

Nero lay naked on his bed whilst a similarly nude slave girl, a year younger than himself, tried her best to suck the prince’s cock to erection. However, she had so far only been partially successful, with the penile shaft to which she was providing oral attention resolutely refusing to become fully hard.

The girl had been sent to Nero’s bedchamber for the night by the boy’s mother, Agrippina. The Empress wanted her 14 year-old son to practise his heterosexual techniques in readiness to perform his imminent conjugal duties with Octavia, who was the same age as the young slave.

Agrippina believed that the successful impregnation of Octavia by Nero, leading to pregnancy and a child, preferably a boy, would considerably consolidate her position and that of her son. Proving his masculine fertility and producing an heir would contrast the prince even more starkly with Britannicus.

Unfortunately, Nero’s current tastes leaned towards boys rather than 13 year-old girls with flat chests like Octavia and the female slave now performing fellatio as a prelude to anticipated full intercourse. Such preference was evidenced by prince’s present difficulty in becoming fully aroused.

Consequently, Nero was tempted to dismiss girl from his presence, whilst contemptuously and very unfairly covering himself by blaming her ineptitude for his own penile shortcoming. However, the prince did not want news of a failure to have full sex with the slave filtering through to his mother, as it inevitably would.

Agrippina knew her son sufficiently well to be able to guess where the reason for any failure truly lay. Nero did not fancy facing his mother’s displeasure and so allowed the girl to continue to suck his cock, hoping that her oral attentions would eventually make him sufficiently hard to enable him subsequently to indulge in successful coitus with her.

(Emperor Claudius’ private triclinium [dining room], Imperial palace, Palatine Hill, Rome, same time)

‘The Romans, who receiving into their citizen-body even their slaves when they free them, giving them even a share in the offices, have by such means not only strengthened their country but also sent out colonies almost to seventy places.’

- Philip V of Macedonia (late 3rd century BC)

Whilst I was still recovering from the shock of being manumitted and appointed to my new role, Claudius expressed his thanks to Aulus Plautius, Corbulo and Vespasianus and, after enjoying a few goblets of wine and pleasant but trivial conversation with them, diplomatically dismissed them. The Emperor was not being impolite to guests who had performed him a favour but rather the opposite. He was aware of the lateness of the hour and the likelihood that the three generals, who as military men were generally early risers, would undoubtedly want to return home and retire to their beds, although they would be too well-mannered to say so to him.

Claudius also then dismissed from his presence the slaves, including the young food-taster, who had been serving us. I presumed correctly that the Emperor now wanted to confide in me aspects of my new job that were not for the ears of others. However, he first uttered a rather prescient comment.

Referring to the just departed trio of generals, Claudius remarked “You know, dear Bicilus, any of those men would make a good Emperor!” One of them was, of course, to prove the assessment of the current Princeps to be completely correct.

“You will undoubtedly have heard,” Claudius subsequently suggested, with some melancholy evident in his voice, “that, whilst you’ve been away, I’ve been acquiescent to further advancements in the status of both my wife, Agrippina, and adopted son, Nero.” I had indeed been aware of these, to me, rather sinister developments and had intended, once circumstances allowed, to raise the subject diplomatically with the Emperor from the perspective of the potentially disturbing implications for Britannicus. The younger now 12 year-old prince had already been reduced from his previous importance but the latest events marginalised him even more.

I was also not surprised by the further developments. I knew well how Claudius now longed for tranquillity in his old age and was susceptible to the wiles of domineering women. I additionally appreciated that Agrippina was making most of the marginalisation in Imperial affairs of the once most powerful of the Emperor’s freedman, Narcissus.

My own absence from Rome whilst Agrippina further consolidated her power and influence was coincidental. I was too inconsequential compared to Narcissus to be able to influence Claudius very much.

I might be able to speak to Claudius in an informal and private setting on a regular basis but I appreciated that I was too young and inexperienced in Imperial affairs for any advice that I might offer on matters of state to be taken seriously by the Emperor. My attitude was only reinforced by the fact that comparable suggestions from much more significant close friends like Aulus Plautius had been ignored.

For these reasons, and the fact that I realised that I should never be presumptive and over-confident about my relations with Claudius, I concentrated my occasional and very carefully diplomatically worded suggestions to minor matters relating to Britannicus’ welfare. I hoped that a succession of little concessions relating to the boy, whom I not only liked and recognised as a potentially great future Emperor but also owed a moral debt, would effectively prove ultimately to have a major impact on his overall wellbeing.

Agrippina was now basically ruling the Empire on Claudius’ behalf. The honour of being granted the title of Augusta, to which even Augustus’ wife, Livia, had not been elevated until after her husband’s death, had also been reinforced by the unprecedented appearance of her profile and name on Imperial coins. She had additionally scandalised some by becoming accustomed to entering the Capitol in a ceremonial carriage traditionally reserved for priests and sacred emblems.

Agrippina, whose overwhelming pride and calculating ambition was initially disguised by a grave and cold yet outwardly respectable manner but was now becoming ever clearer, was also busily continuing to eliminate possible competitors for power. The Empress often achieved her perfidious aims by successfully accusing her potential rivals of evil magical practices against the lives of the Imperial family.

Sadly, many Romans, including in the educated classes, believe in the potency to commit harm of astrology and sorcery. Claudius was sadly not immune and in the face of his wife’s well argued and evidenced charges, and probably also for an easier life with her, usually succumbed to agreeing guilty decisions, which invariably proved fatal for the accused.

The relevant trials were held in private in the Imperial palace and I could tell that Claudius felt rather guilty about them because he invariably excused me his service and company for several days afterwards. I believe that the Emperor astonishingly feared admonishment from his young Britannian slave for being so fickle in the face of his wife’s accusations.

Meanwhile, Nero’s older age had already classified him as the senior prince once he had been adopted by Claudius but this status had been reinforced through being given the toga virilis of manhood earlier than usual. The award of the title of ‘Principes Iuventatis’, or ‘first youth’, and his much greater prominence in public affairs further enhanced his status compared with Britannicus.

Other developments during my absence from the Imperial capital had exacerbated matters. When Claudius had recently left the city to help the celebration of festivals in other towns, 14 year-old Nero, at Agrippina’s calculating suggestion, had officially been left in charge of Rome as Prefect.

Holding the Prefecture involved hearing lawsuits and so Claudius issued orders that only simple and insignificant actions should be brought before Nero. However, Agrippina ensured that such instructions were ignored and so, aided by Seneca’s expert tuition and Suffuscus’ calming influence, the prince actually heard more important cases, with leading orators eagerly competing to appear before him.

Nero had also made his first public speech in the Senate. His inaugural Latin oratory was in support of an application for help by the citizens of Bononia [modern Bologna, Italy]. The city had been ravaged by fire.

Nero later spoke in Greek advocating a similar plea from Apamea in Syria, which had been damaged by an earthquake. He also backed the tax exemptions sought by the island of Rhodus [modern Rhodes] and the city of Ilium [ancient Troy].

Seneca was a renowned Senatorial speaker in his own right, as well as excellent tutor, and it is therefore not surprising that he managed, with Suffuscus’ calm influence providing his friend with confidence, to ensure that Nero performed these oratorical tasks well. As a consequence, the great of Rome had been made aware of the prince’s apparent competent and mature statesman-like capabilities, whereas, for all intents and purposes, Britannicus remained a relatively obscure younger child.

The usefulness for rising youths to obtain supporters in the provinces is clearly recognised. Nero’s achievement of this by supporting Ilium was also particularly appropriate, as the house of Julius Caesar, into which his own ancestor, Augustus, had been adopted, traced origins through Aeneas back to legendary Troy.

Amongst Nero’s other rewards for achieving greater prominence was his own appearance on Rome’s coinage, on which the image of Britannicus never materialised. Many provinces and their cities followed suit. Only Moesia [modern Bulgaria], Judaea and a few metropolises in Asia Minor, authorised to issue their own currency, took the precaution of adding portraits of both princes in case the favourite to succeed Claudius was eventually thwarted by his younger half-brother in becoming Emperor.

The most significant of Nero’s rewards was, however, his imminent marriage to Claudius’ daughter and Britannicus’ sister, 13 year-old Octavia.

(Nero’s bedchamber, Imperial palace, Palatine Hill, Rome, same time)

‘It is difficulties that show what men are.’

- Epictetus

Nero finally accomplished full erection whilst practising for his imminent conjugal duties with young Octavia. He achieved this feat in reaction to the 13 year-old slave girl’s fellatio by forgetting his current situation and thinking of something else instead. He also managed to maintain his penile hardness when he subsequently indulged in the act of vaginal fornication with the young servant by using the same trick.

Throughout the process, Nero’s thoughts had dwelt solely on his mental remembrance of Suffuscus’ wondrous naked form.

(Emperor Claudius’ private triclinium [dining room], Imperial palace, Palatine Hill, Rome, same time)

‘Regnat non regitur qui nihil nisi quod vult facit.’

(‘He is a king and not a subject who does only what he wishes.’)

- Publilius Syrus

“Do you know why I wed Agrippina?” Claudius suddenly surprisingly asked of me, whilst we again reclined on our couches and resumed consuming wine. I wanted to answer that surely the main reason was sexual attraction. I was aware that the Emperor fancied the wily woman but the only way of manoeuvring his niece voluntarily into his bed was by compelling the Senate to change the incest law and marrying her. However, concern that I might embarrass the Princeps encouraged me to remain silent.

Fortunately, Claudius did not wait long for my answer before providing one for me. The Emperor’s reply initially shocked me until I began to analyse the practical politics behind his response.

“I wed Agrippina and then adopted her son,” Claudius answered, “because the only realistic alternative was to have them both killed!”

(Empress Agrippina’s bedchamber, Imperial palace, Palatine Hill, Rome, same time)

‘No better thing befalls a man than a good wife, no worse thing than a bad one.’

- Semonides of Amorgos

The tongue of Agrippina’s handmaiden had finally brought her mistress to very enjoyable multiple orgasms. However, having recovered from the ecstatic pleasure provided, the Empress was not the type of person to forget the girl’s previous reluctance to entertain the Imperial clitoris.

Having redressed in a flowing stola, whilst her pretty handmaiden remained naked, Agrippina called for the couple of Praetorians on guard outside her bedchamber. She then delighted the soldiers by ordering them to lead the suddenly appalled and petrified girl to the palace torture chamber.

(Emperor Claudius’ private triclinium [dining room], Imperial palace, Palatine Hill, Rome, same time)

‘The shaft of the arrow had been feathered with one of the eagle's own plumes.’

(i.e. ‘We often give our enemies the means of our own destruction.’)

- Aesop (the fable of ‘The Eagle and the Arrow’)

“Given Agrippina’s obvious ambition for power and young Nero’s lineage,” Claudius went on to comment, “the boy as he grows older becomes an increasingly clear threat to me and my own son as an alternative candidate for the Principate. I could not allow him and his mother to become the focus, even if unintentionally, of plots to usurp me.”

“I therefore had to have them killed,” Claudius continued, “as has sadly often happened to rivals for power in my family since the reign of Augustus, or satisfy their ambitions. As I could not have the daughter and grandson of my late dear brother, Germanicus, murdered, I thought allying them instead to me through marriage and making Nero my likely heir to be the best alternative solution.”

“I’m aware,” Claudius advised, “of Agrippina’s deliberate marginalisation of Britannicus at court and in Imperial affairs, which even extends to his exile to smaller and more obscure accommodation within the palace and his exclusion from most state occasions. However, I’ve permitted these developments to allow her to pursue the unspoken policy of promoting Nero.”

“Britannicus mightn’t like his treatment,” Claudius commented, “but I consider it best for the future of Rome. However, in deciding this, I’ve perhaps foolishly accepted my wife’s assurances that his welfare will in return be safeguarded.” The Emperor then went on to explain precisely why he had appointed me to the same role for the younger prince as the young freedmen, Helius and Doryphorus, fulfilled for Nero.

You see, dear patient reader of my long autobiography, I was to become, potentially quite dangerously, young Britannicus’ freedman secretary.

(Torture chamber, Imperial palace, Palatine Hill, Rome, same time)

‘Abyssus abyssum invocat.’

(‘Abyss calls to abyss’, i.e. one depravity leads to another’.)

- Roman maxim

The torture chamber, deep in the bowels of the Imperial palace, is not a place in which to be an unwilling guest. The large windowless room, poorly illuminated by smoky oil-lamps, is not only dark, dank and cold but also well-equipped to perform its function, which is usually to question suspected traitors and their associates.

Punishing an Imperial slave for hesitating to lick an Empress’ clitoris is not normally considered treacherous. Unfortunately for Agrippina’s handmaiden, her mistress had decided otherwise because the Empress remained in a sexually highly charged mood, even after her recent multiple orgasms.

Agrippina rather fancied watching her now former handmaiden, as she proposed later to dismiss the girl from her service and sell her, being raped by the two Praetorians and the torturer before being comprehensively whipped. The Empress also proposed to add to her pleasure by fingering her own clitoris discreetly through her stola whilst she viewed the spectacle.

(Emperor Claudius’ private triclinium [dining room], Imperial palace, Palatine Hill, Rome, same time)

‘A second wife is hateful to the children of the first; a viper is not more hateful.’

- Euripides (‘Alcestis’)

“I know that Britannicus’ personal slave, Apollinus, with whom, dear Bicilus, I understand you currently share a room in the palace, is highly efficient and loyally protective,” Claudius commented to me, whilst revealing that he had not become totally disinterested in the affairs of the younger prince. “If my memory serves me right,” the Emperor also added correctly, “I believe that in fact I recruited you both from the estate of the late Caius Silius with the aid of my natural son.”

“Yes, Sire,” I answered, “just after the prince saved me from being questioned by your palace torturer.” In response, Claudius’ face suddenly momentarily displayed some shame at having to employ such interrogators and he even apologised before explaining the need.

“Yes,” Claudius declared, “I’m sorry that you had to go through such a distressful experience. However, there had been an attempted coup led by my wife, Messalina, and your former master, Caius Silius, and I and my supporters were unsure who else was involved and whom we could trust. In order to find out, the customary questioning under torture of the slaves of your late treacherous owner seemed appropriate at the time.”

“There’s no need to apologise, Sire,” I replied, “as I fully recognise the motive. However, I’m glad that Britannicus intervened before your torturer began to use his implements on me!”

“I’m glad too,” a now smiling Claudius informed. The Emperor did not, of course, know that the torturer concerned would soon gain revenge for Britannicus’ intervention, during which the prince had uncharacteristically ordered the man to be flogged for insubordination.

“Anyway,” Claudius continued by returning to the original topic of Apollinus, “I believe that Britannicus’ personal slave needs help in looking after his young master to ensure that Agrippina keeps her word about my son’s welfare. However, such support needs to be discrete or I think it’s possible that my wife might seek to remove it.”

I did not doubt Claudius’ assessment. I was aware that Agrippina had earlier removed most of Britannicus’ retinue of devoted servants, even having his previous tutors executed for being allegedly disloyal, incompetent and promoters of unwelcome philosophies, whereas their real crime in her eyes was that they were actually the opposite.

I was also aware that Apollinus had retained his own position as one of Britannicus’ few remaining slaves only because of the influence of Seneca. Agrippina’s principal adviser had successfully argued with the Empress that the younger prince had to be left with some semblance of good service or the situation might sometime politically rebound on her.

I believe that Apollinus’ eager lover and Agrippina’s more reluctant and occasional paramour, Rubellius Plautus, might also have influenced the Empress to leave matters as they now stood. She was aware of the relationship between the two youths and used the knowledge to persuade her nephew to service her sexual desires energetically whenever she wanted, even if his main tastes were for his own gender.

If you recall, dear patient reader of my long autobiography, Agrippina had threatened to castrate Apollinus if Rubellius Plautus did not prove compliantly efficient in meeting her occasional needs.

(Torture chamber, Imperial palace, Palatine Hill, same time)

‘Ilias maloram.’

(‘An Iliad of evils’, i.e. ‘a sea of troubles’.)

- Cicero, referring to the fact that Homer’s ‘Iliad’ runs the gamut of human suffering (‘Ad Atticum’, viii.11)

The hands of Agrippina’s very pretty and currently still naked and petrified handmaiden had been fastened to manacles suspended from the ceiling of the sinister torture chamber. The buxom girl was herself dangling on tiptoes underneath.

Agrippina had then watched from the shadows as the pair of eager Praetorians had simultaneously raped the handmaiden, one penetrating the girl’s vagina from the front and the other sodomising her from the rear. Hidden by the dark, the Empress fingered her own clitoris whilst she viewed the scene but her own ecstatic moans, as she brought herself to climax, were drowned by those of the two soldiers and the pleas and shrieks of her young slave.

These pleas and shrieks later increased in intensity when punishment by penis was replaced by that from a harsh leather whip wielded by the torturer. He had previously asked Agrippina to be allowed to delay his own raping of his young victim until he had competed his comprehensive flagellation of her lovely body. He preferred such pleasure then, when his own fat hairy form would be thrust against one damaged with the bloody and agonising marks of his earlier handiwork.

Agrippina had been kind enough to pamper to the torturer’s fetish.

(Emperor Claudius’ private triclinium [dining room], Imperial palace, Palatine Hill, Rome, same time)

‘Do not trust all men, but trust men of worth; the former course is silly, the latter a mark of prudence.’

- Democritus

“Whilst you, dear Bicilus, were away in Britannia,” Claudius continued, “Britannicus celebrated his 12th birthday in Februarius. Princes of such an age usually have a freedman secretary to help organise what should be, in normal circumstances, increasing personal schedules and other business.”

“We both know, Bicilus,” Claudius added, “that Agrippina is deliberately minimising Britannicus’ schedule, especially in terms of state events. However, as she undoubtedly wishes to do so as discretely as possible, I don’t believe that she can afford to challenge the customary appointment of a secretary for a prince of such an age. Such objection could publicly highlight her scheme to sideline my son in favour of Nero, which I’m sure she wouldn’t want. On the other hand, allowing the appointment would help to keep her ambitions disguised.”

“Agrippina should also be reassured,” Claudius suggested, whilst highlighting the extent of his own rather belated ambition to try practically to secure his natural son’s future welfare, “by my choice of nominee as Britannicus’ new freedman secretary. The Empress, of course, still considers you, dear Bicilus, to be one of her allies and spies.”

“I could still be, Sire,” I could not help but mischievously reply, “and my earlier confession to you that I regularly report our conversations and other matters to the Empress could be a double-bluff to secure your full confidence.” “I had considered such a possibility,” Claudius then initially surprised me by responding. However, my astonishment was short-lived after I remembered that he must have witnessed a wide array of treacherous perfidy within the Imperial family and court over the six decades of his life.

“I quickly rejected the idea,” Claudius went on to advise, in respect of the notion that I might be one of Agrippina’s most loyal and devious agents. “Can I ask why, Sire?” I asked.

“I have known,” Claudius began to answer in a rather indirect manner, “very few truly loyal companions in my life, Bicilus. Even my close boyhood friend, Herod Agrippa, became rather rebellious, albeit more in spirit than deed, after I succeeded to the Principate and gave him the throne of Judaea. I have sadly learned to trust no-one entirely unless I’m absolutely sure about his character, and I am about yours.”

“Can I ask how, Sire?” I now enquired, curiosity being as intense as my delight at hearing Claudius’ kind words. The Emperor smiled and answered “Because you have devotedly intensely loved someone who is very worthy for a long time, during which period he has fully reciprocated the affection. A person of his undoubted quality would not do so if your character had any serious blemishes!”

I was literally instantly struck speechless at hearing such praise, of both me and my beloved Gaius, from the lips of the most powerful man in the world. However, Claudius astutely recognised my transformation into sudden dumfounded shock and therefore continued the conversation himself, in a manner that only added to my wordless condition.

“Your character and our time spent together, dear Bicilus,” Claudius stated, “have encouraged me to consider you, despite the difference in our ages and backgrounds, to be much more than a mere servant or even friend.” I immediately began to wonder how he could otherwise regard me, and when he told me, by quoting one of Publilius Syrus’ maxims, my shock was complete.

(Domus of Aulus Plautius, Palatine Hill, Rome, same time)

‘Eros in battle unconquered,

Eros god of animals,

Night visitor in the soft cheeks of youth,

Wanderer above seas and among sheep-folds,

Whom no god can flee from,

And no mortal man….’

- Sophocles (‘Antigone’)

Suffuscus had been unable to sleep, even after masturbating to relieve his sexual desires. The soon-to-be 16 year-old had therefore gone to Bucephalus’ stable to see his magnificent horse. However, equestrian matters were not currently uppermost in the boy’s mind. His young groom, Menoeceus, was instead at the forefront of his thoughts.

Suffuscus had fancied Menoeceus ever since the pretty Greek, who was a couple of years younger, had entered his service. However, the older boy was too considerate to order to his bed a slave who could not challenge his authority.

Suffuscus therefore tried his best to hide his fancy and instead to satisfy his sexual needs through use of his right hand whilst dreaming of Menoeceus. However, such relief did not always work, and this was just such an occasion so the boy was instead attempting to occupy his increasingly desperate mind with Bucephalus.

Suffuscus’ intent was subsequently ruined when, amidst the shadows of the stable, he felt another presence quietly approach his side. “Hello, Master,” Menoeceus’ angelic voice then whispered, “is there anything wrong with Bucephalus?”

Suffuscus turned to peer down into the beautiful face of the currently shorter Menoeceus, which was only partly hidden in the shadows because of moonlight beaming in from a nearby window. The older boy also felt his cock, hidden within his loincloth under his tunic, harden at the sight.

“No, nothing is wrong with Bucephalus,” Suffuscus managed to answer, despite his throat drying somewhat because of his deep desire for the boy now adjacent to him, “I just couldn’t sleep. How did you know that I was here?”

“I now sleep on straw in a corner of the stable in preference to the slave quarters,” Menoeceus replied, “so that I can remain close to Bucephalus.” Suffuscus immediately felt ashamed that he had not become aware of this fact, as well as rather impressed with his slaveboy’s sense of duty.

As Suffuscus subsequently continued to peer into Menoeceus’ gorgeous face, apparently unable to take his eyes away from the wonderful sight, he did not immediately realise that his hand had instinctively reached up to feel some strands of the younger boy’s long silky hair. He only appreciated his telltale error when his slave turned his own pretty head to focus instead on what his master was manually perpetrating in clear desire.

On recognising his mistake, Suffuscus instantly tried to withdraw his hand from Menoeceus’ hair but it was suddenly restrained by that of the slave, who returned his gaze back to his master’s blushing guilt-ridden face. “Sir, you only have to ask,” the younger boy then advised, with his own longstanding secret desire also now evident.

Shortly afterwards, the straw in the corner of the stable was occupied by two now naked and rather energetic boys, whose passionate activity within the shadows and moonlight was quietly watched with interest by Bucephalus.

(Emperor Claudius’ private triclinium [dining room], Imperial palace, Palatine Hill, Rome, same time)

‘Acquire not your friends by bare compliments but by giving them sensible tokens of your love.’

- Socrates

“Did you know, my dear Bicilus,” Claudius asked, “that the former slave and creator of fine mimes and maxims, Publilius Syrus, who lived about a century ago, wrote that ‘A good freedman is a son notwithstanding nature’?”

(Domus of Gaius Musonius Rufus, Subura Quarter, Rome, same time)

‘There are limits to the indulgence which friendship allows.’

- Cicero

Gaius had left Achilleus and Tyanus at his domus in Rome whilst he went with Hylas to Volsinii Novae. My beloved had not wanted to disturb the schooling of his adopted sons because of his need to be present at the birth of his natural offspring.

The two boys were being looked after in Rome by Gaius’ pair of young slaves, Endymion and Selene, who also now had their own son, the now 1 month-old Aetolus, to care for and who frequently disturbed, as babies are wont to do, nightly sleep. The fact that the new-born child regularly woke up and cried was probably at least partly due to the sound of many carts rumbling outside along the narrow streets of the Subura, the noisy vehicles being forbidden to deliver goods during daylight hours to prevent traffic chaos.

A rather unexpected development now manifested itself at such times of interrupted slumber. Tyanus was often the first to wake and reach Aetolus and the 13 year-old proved highly adept at subsequently cradling the baby in his arms and gently soothing the child back to sleep, sometimes after Selene had breast-fed her son.

Achilleus had naturally been happy to use such evidence of proficiency at childcare to tease his 2 years older adoptive brother by regularly suggesting to him “You’ll make a great mother when you grow up!” Tyanus would, of course, have been prepared to demonstrate and defend his masculinity at such times with a vengeful punch if he had not been holding little Aetolus and singing a sweet lullaby to the baby.

(Domus of Nigerinus, Subura Quarter, Rome, same time)

‘No man ever wetted clay and then left it, as if there would be bricks by chance and fortune.’

- Plutarch

In a domus not far from that of Gaius, Nigerinus was also comforting back to sleep a young child, in the form of his unofficially adopted son, Aulus. The boy was now 14 months old and his status stemmed from the fact that the nullified black eunuch had not formally married his mother because he was incapable of consummating the marriage in the normal manner.

As Nigerinus soothed Aulus, he began to formulate plans for the boy’s future. He appreciated that a good education would be essential if the child was to prosper and to pay for such a start he believed that he could set aside enough money from the earnings he acquired by running his patron’s successful funerary business. Since gaining custom from the Imperial palace, the reputation of the enterprise had increased substantially and so had other clientele.

Over the next 2 years, palace trade would increase still further.

(Emperor Claudius’ private triclinium [dining room], Imperial palace, Palatine Hill, Rome, same time)

‘I grow old learning something new every day.’

- Solon

“Put your pileus on,” Claudius requested, probably to help introduce some amusement so that I could recover my senses after the recent shock, “as I’d like to see how you look wearing the cap.” I naturally obeyed, although I felt rather self-conscious about wearing such a head covering because of my long hair.

I presumed that a pileus on top of my long fair hair would make me look ridiculous and so the situation proved, as was evidenced by the fact that, on seeing me wearing the purple cap, Claudius failed to keep his face straight. The Emperor fought hard but he eventually succumbed to giggling at my new appearance.

After the Imperial chortling finally subsided, Claudius commented “I can see why new freedmen were once required to have shaven heads. The pileus obviously doesn’t go with long hair like yours, dear Bicilus!”

“I’m just glad, Sire,” I retorted, “that you find my new appearance amusing.” “I’m gladder, dear Bicilus,” Claudius replied, “that I’ve managed to eradicate your shocked silence.”

Claudius’ conversational remedy for my dumfounded state had indeed worked and we now engaged in further long chat despite our mutual consumption of a lot of wine and the fact that midnight had long since passed. Debate concentrated initially on how we both thought that I could use my new position as Britannicus’ secretary to assist the prince’s future welfare without incurring Agrippina’s rancour.

Conversation subsequently drifted towards less weighty matters, including how my new pileus acquired its expensive purple colour, representative only of an Imperial freedman. I advised that I thought that the relevant dye was extracted from crushed seashells.

“Not exactly,” Claudius contradicted. The Emperor then went on, as a precursor to telling me the true source of the dye, to relate to me a legend about a god of the Phoenician city of the Tyre called Melqart.

“Melqart was one day strolling along the seashore with a nymph he loved named Tyrus,” Claudius advised, “when a dog accompanying them picked up a murex snail and bit it in two. The hound’s mouth then immediately became deeply crimsoned and the divine maiden, admiring the wonderful colour, announced to the god that she would not consummate their relationship until he provided her with a gown of the same hue.”

“In response,” Claudius continued, “Melqart gathered up a large quantity of murexes to begin the famed millennium-old dyeing industry of Tyre!”

(Grammaticus of Axenius, Subura Quarter, Rome, next morning)

‘Trees and fields tell me nothing: men are my teachers.’

- Plato (‘Phædrus’)

Whilst I was attempting to sleep off a hangover in the Imperial palace, the grammaticus class tutored by Axenius’ employee, Nestor, was in full flow. Coincidentally, the teacher was advising his boy pupils how expensive purple dye is obtained at Tyre and also now at Sidon and the former Phoenician colonies on the islands of Melita [modern Malta] and Motya near Sicilia.

Amongst those looking back at Nestor, sitting on stools behind benches, was, of course, 14 year-old Lucanus, whose lovely bottom was now rarely despoilt by his tutor’s rod, such had been the improvement in classroom discipline. None of the other pretty pupils, including Achilleus, Tyanus, Agricola, Anacletus, Arius, Cyllin, Cynon and Lleyn, wanted to be the cause of their friend being painfully chastised by the ferula or being the recipient, as agreed, of reciprocated punishment.

In addition to Nestor’s classroom teaching, Lucanus as the oldest of the pupils was now being personally tutored by Cornutus in philosophy, rhetoric and writing. The boy shared this privilege with the similarly aged Anacletus and was demonstrating much promise in the poetic art.

Garments fully purple in hue were once the prerogative of victorious generals but are now the exclusive right of Emperors. However, upper class boys can bear narrow fringes of the precious colour on their toga praetextae and patricians and equestrians can display stripes on their own formal togas. Naturally, those of Senators are wider than those pertaining to everyone else.

Nestor showed his exceptionally pulchritudinous class of boys two types of murex snail, which are molluscs akin to whelks that are abundant in the east of the Mare Internum [modern Mediterranean].

The tutor exhibited a ‘brandaris’ and a ‘trunculus’.

Nestor explained that the purple dye, first discovered by the tinting of the mouths of people who ate murexes, comes from small glands that have to be removed from the living snails to obtain the brightest hues. Each mollusc yields only a small amount of the necessary yellowish liquid that darkens on exposure to air and sunlight.

Subsequent processing requires constant slow simmering in an outdoor lead or tin pan for almost two weeks, during which time the precious liquid is reduced to about a sixteenth of original volume. Brandaris glands alone produce only a heavy dark tint and need just the right addition of trunculus plus a carefully controlled admixture from a third type of snail, not a murex, to achieve the lustrous colourfast purple that is so avidly sought.

About 45,000 snails are required to produce just one Roman pound, or ‘libra’ [in modern terms 326 grams or 11.5 ounces], of the dye, which explains the tremendous cost and the huge mounds of mollusc shells piled round the relevant dye factories. These putrid mountains also emit a dreadful stench from the creatures’ rotting remains, which usually encourages the works to be located out of town.

Such facts put into perspective the intrinsic value of my purple pileus, although to me the cap’s worth was, of course, more in the significance of its award than in the quantity of dye needed to attain its dazzling hue.

(Imperial palace, Palatine Hill, Rome, same time)

‘Time as he grows old teaches many lessons.’

- Aeschylus (‘Prometheus’, 981)

Also attending class, albeit in more private and much more opulent surrounds, were Nero and the select group of boys, including Suffuscus, who were being educated with him. Seneca had just introduced them to their new tutors, who had been appointed so that he could have a greater say over what was being taught in comparison to when Cornutus had played a role.

As Nero grew older, Seneca was determined to have greater control of the older prince’s development. Cornutus’ role was now being confined to aiding Britannicus’ education.

As well as personally conducting lessons, Seneca had appointed a fellow stoic, the eminent head of the Museion at Alexandria and prominent grammarian and expert on Aegyptian religious antiquities, Chaeremon, to teach Greek studies. However, he counterbalanced this appointment by also choosing Alexander of Aegae in Macedonia to tutor similar subjects.

Alexander of Aegae favoured Aristotle’s Peripatetic philosophy, now revived as a school of metaphysics and logic, in preference to Zeno’s stoic version. Seneca believed that such counterbalance would be more beneficial to young Nero’s development.

Agrippina, however, was more traditionally Roman and began to dislike Seneca’s increasingly philosophical approach to Nero’s education. Nevertheless, the Empress made no direct move to redress the situation, as she did not want to upset and therefore possibly lose her son’s main tutor, who was also her own principal adviser.

Agrippina chose instead to attempt to correct Seneca’s philosophical bias in educational matters by talking at length to her son in private in order to proffer alternative perspectives. Such secret intervention, of course, sadly only confused the boy and consequently his development into mature adulthood was not helped but instead substantially hindered.

Agrippina’s undermining of Seneca’s plans for Nero’s education was ultimately to prove disastrous for Rome and many of the Empire’s prominent citizens.

(Domus of Nigerinus, Subura Quarter, Rome, same time)

‘Maxima debetur puero reverentia.’

(‘The greatest reverence is due to the boy’, i.e. to the innocence of youth, which should therefore not be corrupted.)

- Juvenal (xiv.47)

Nigerinus was now working in the funerary establishment that fronted his domus. Meanwhile, young Aulus was under the supervision of his mother in the house.

A Roman boy’s infancy is, like his birth, conducted under the watchful gaze of various gods. The child’s feeding, crying, standing, walking and talking all occur under the protection of a different minor deity who therefore needs respect.

For example, Cunina cares generally for infants, whilst Volumna overlooks the nursery and Fabulinus eventually teaches children to speak. Abeona protects them when they leave the home and Adeona guides them back. Potina looks after their drinks.

Once weaned, Aulus’ day, as common with Roman infants, would eventually begin early with a light breakfast of fruit, bread, honey and olives and later he would play. Subsequently, his mother would sing lullabies to entice the tired and therefore unruly boy to have a nap, whilst threatening her son if he did not rest with Lamia, an evil spirit who sucked children’s blood.

(Chaeronea, Boeotia, Roman province of Achaea, Greece, later same day)

‘When a house faces south, the sun penetrates its rooms in winter, while in summer it shines high overhead above the roof and leaves us in the shade.’

- Socrates’ advice regarding positioning new houses, according to Xenophon’s ‘Memorablia’ (3.8.9)

Newly 13 year-old Plutarchus was sitting on a stone bench in the inner colonnade, or ‘pastas’, of his family’s residence in Chaeronea. The opulence and size of the two-storeyed south-facing house demonstrated wealth and the design illustrated conformity to traditional Greek values rather than imported Roman tastes.

All of the house’s downstairs rooms opened onto the colonnade, which led to a courtyard, or ‘aulé’, approached by way of a lobby, or ‘prothyron’. Inside, at the south-eastern corner, was the mosaic-decorated banqueting salon, or ‘andrôn’, whereas the ordinary dining facility was located to aid winter warmth between the kitchen and baths, which were the usual settings for domestic fires and furnaces.

The vast living chamber, or ‘diaitétérion’, was on the north, behind the south-facing pastas, through which sunlight was received. The downstairs amenities were completed by work and store rooms.

The upper floor comprised bedrooms, including the conjugal chamber, or ‘thalamos’, and women’s apartments, or ‘gynaikeia’. Garrets under the eaves provided the domestic slaves with their sleeping accommodation.

Aided by the warm spring evening’s fading sunlight, Plutarchus was writing a letter to his friend, Tyanus, in faraway Rome. His fresh papyrus rested on the three-page wooden wax tablet that he used for his schoolwork.

Plutarchus could, of course, have dictated his correspondence to the slave scribe whom his father owned. However, the boy preferred to practise his own handwriting, as well as considered the personal touch to be more suitable in a letter to a friend.

In his letter, Plutarchus complimented Tyanus on his own newly acquired excellent literacy, as demonstrated in his recent correspondence. The 13 year-old boy also mentioned that, his interest in history having been stimulated by Gaius, he had begun studying and researching the lives of famous people of the past.

Plutarchus added that he might sometime in the future put his findings into written form and that by doing so he might perhaps make his own modest mark on history.

(Rome, same time)

‘Above all things we must take care that the child, who is not yet old enough to love his studies, does not come to hate them and dread the bitterness which he has once tasted, even when the years of infancy are left behind. His studies must be made an amusement.’

- Quintilian

Cyllin was the first of Caratacus’ three charming young sons to claim his father’s attention and excitedly tell the man how purple dye was obtained. In other Roman households, Anacletus and Tyanus were the first to achieve the same feat with respectively Axenius and Endymion. Meanwhile, Lucanus was actually naked when he informed Persius and Quintilianus, as all three were bathing.

“I’ll never quite look at the equestrian stripe on my toga in the same way again!” Quintilianus rather sarcastically commented in amused response on hearing Lucanus’ tale.

(Jerusalem, Roman province of Judaea, same time)

‘I am determined….to respect the truth of history….’

- Flavius Josephus (in his preface to his historical record entitled ‘The Jewish War’)

Another independently-minded prospective writer, a buddy historian, was currently also bathing, although he did so alone. As he washed, 14 year-old Yosef Ben-Matityahu was contemplating his own flaccid cock, which he had cupped in one hand to examine.

Yosef sighed at the sight of his lost foreskin, cut away according to the tenets of his religion when he had been just 8 days old. The boy had since actually developed the secret heretical belief that circumcision should only be conducted when someone is mature enough to confirm his adherence to the Jewish faith and agree to such mutilation, although he had never been brave enough to confess this view to anyone else.

Yosef felt that being presented with the fait accompli of a cut cock when he matured was unfair, hence his recent sigh. Nevertheless, the boy was not put off now pumping his penis to excited erection and eventual ejaculation.

(Villa of Gaius Musonius Rufus, near Volsinii Novae, Etruria [modern Bolsena, Italy], 8 days later)

‘Sic erat in fatis.’

(‘So it was fated.’)

- Ovid (‘Fasti’, i.481)

Nine days after the birth of his natural son, Gaius and his family attended the customary ceremony of purification and naming of his new-born child, supposedly presided over by the goddess Nundina. During the ritual, which was performed in his own villa before the household shrine, or ‘lararium’, my beloved awarded the baby the traditional bulla, which he would wear until he eventually received the toga virilis of manhood. This adornment comprised a golden neck-chain with a little leather pouch attached, containing the usual protective amulets for a boy in the form of small phallic charms.

Prayers and offerings were then made at the shrine to the household gods, the ancestral spirits, or ‘lares’, and guardians of the family larder, ‘penates’, which also received similar attention on every normal morning. The lararium was located in a small niche in the atrium, was decorated with a colourful painting and accommodated several minuscule statues. A strongbox, made of wood sheathed with iron and bronze and containing family documents and valuables, was also located nearby, attached to a securing rod on an elaborate stand to prevent theft.

During the ceremony, much to the disgust of Gaius’ mother, the baby’s name was confirmed as Quintus Musonius Rufus, in line with the desires of the strongly willed Sethra. She was honouring her coincidentally eponymous father and father-in-law with the choice, which my beloved was also most happy to do.

Quintus Musonius Rufus was fated to play almost as an important and revered part in my life as his dear father.

(Domus of Gaius Musonius Rufus, Subura Quarter, Rome, another 8 days later)

‘No excellent soul is exempt from a mixture of madness.’

- Aristotle

Having registered Quintus’ birth within the requisite thirty days in the appropriate manner at the temple of Juno Lucina in Volsinii Novae, which rather appropriately also acted as the local archive of such records, or ‘tabularium’, Gaius had returned to Rome with Hylas. He was as usual greeted ecstatically by Achilleus and Tyanus, as well as in a more restrained but nevertheless equally happy manner by Endymion and Selene. However, Aetolus just puked over my beloved’s tunic when he held the baby lovingly in his arms and offered comparisons with his own natural son.

This despoiling of Gaius’ tunic caused him to want to redress with the help of Hylas before they rushed off to the Imperial palace to see me. However, he was disturbed by Endymion in the middle of putting on a fresh tunic.

“An Imperial freedman has arrived,” Endymion announced to Gaius, whilst somehow maintaining an inscrutable expression, “and requests to meet with you.” “Oh gods,” my beloved exclaimed in worried response as, apart from those of his friends, Helius and Doryphorus, visits from such officials were previously unknown and therefore this one suggested bad news to him, “something must have happened to Bicilus whilst I was in Volsinii!”

After rushing the completion of his redressing, Gaius sped from his bedchamber to the small atrium of his domus, where he knew that his visitor would be asked to wait. He had not noticed that he had somehow contrived to put his fresh tunic on back to front and the secretly amused and mischievous Hylas and Endymion had chosen not to enlighten him about his error.

As Gaius arrived in his atrium, he spied the mysterious visitor, who was wearing a purple pileus on his head and was sitting on a stone bench with his back to him. “What’s happened to Bicilus?” my beloved instinctively shouted, with fear and panic evident in his voice and without any evidence whatsoever that I was the reason for his guest’s request to see him.

“If any harm whatsoever has befallen Bicilus because of palace intrigues,” Gaius added loudly and rather prematurely, “I warn you that someone will pay dearly!” He then stepped in front of his visitor and his very handsome face immediately turned bright crimson from the shade of very pale white suddenly adopted when Endymion had originally interrupted his redressing.

The change in facial hue did not result from acute anger but from extreme embarrassment because the Imperial freedman now sitting before Gaius, and alerted to his return to Rome by a furtive message from his houshold, was, of course, me.

(Domus of Petronius, Quirinal Hill, Rome, same time)

‘There is no other remedy for love, no poultice, no ointment….except the Muses….’

- Theocritus (‘Idyll 10’)

Petronius was again dining at home without guests. Encolpius was sharing his couch, as they both reclined to be entertained by pleasant music and recitation. Giton was once more playing his cithara, supported by the hired young female aulētride, who played a double-reeded piped flute, or ‘aulos’, and whom he had befriended.

The girl could also simultaneously proficiently and sweetly recite lyric poems, as she was now demonstrating. Her name was rather appropriately Euterpe, after the Muse who was blessed with the same skills.

As Petronius watched the young accomplished pair of pretty musicians perform, he appreciated that they liked each other a lot. The ‘elegantiae arbiter’ also knew that Giton believed that he sadly could not consummate their friendship because he was a eunuch.

Giton’s presumption was something that Petronius was determined someday to prove to be incorrect.

(Domus of Gaius Musonius Rufus, Subura Quarter, Rome, same time)

‘He will always be a slave who does not know how to live a little.’

- Horace

“I’m very glad to hear that you’d seek vengeance against anyone who harmed me,” I smilingly advised the blushing Gaius, who had been shocked into temporary speechlessness, “although you might have encountered difficulty if the person responsible had been the Emperor or Empress!” My beloved then heard giggling from behind him in the atrium, where Hylas, Achilleus, Tyanus, Endymion and Selene had gathered to watch the fun.

“Is wearing a tunic back to front a new fashion?” I then wickedly asked to compound Gaius’ embarrassment and increase the volume of the chortling from behind him. However, my beloved now managed to demonstrate his common brave resilience by rapidly recovering his composure and returning my smile, whilst his facial redness faded away.

“You’re an evil boy,” Gaius quickly declared, “and so it’s you who’ll have to pay dearly!” However, before he could grab me, I managed to temper his obvious ardour by suggesting “Now, don’t do anything naughty in front of the children!”

“Oh, please do!” Tyanus mischievously retorted.

(Italica, Roman province of Baetica, southern Hispania, same time)

An ornatrix who errs might ‘have to submit to having her hair torn, her shoulders and breasts uncovered. “Why is this curl sticking up?” And at once the strap of bull-hide comes down to punish the heinous crime of the errant ringlet.’

– Juvenal (‘Satire VI’, 490-3)

Marcia, the young wife of Marcus Ulpius Traianus, was preparing for the day ahead. She was 6-months pregnant but that did not stop her from wanting to look her best both inside her own home and the environs of Italica, which is the oldest Roman settlement in Hispania.

The daily toilet of a fashionable Roman lady, even one who resides in a relatively minor provincial town, is long and elaborate. Four maids in long-sleeved tunics, hair pinned up in buns and one holding a mirror, were currently attending to their naked mistress, who was sitting in a high-backed basketwork chair in her bedroom, the door of which had been bolted to prevent men entering. The salon contained pots, jars, flagons of liniments, unguents, pomades and cosmetics, plus scissors, pins and nail-files.

After Marcia’s hands, ears and teeth had been cleaned and her body washed, the toiletry session began. Face foundation, a cream comprising a ground paste of barley, peeled narcissi bulbs, Tuscan seeds, Greek honey and lupins, was applied gently and evenly, whilst unwanted hair was extracted.

The young but expert female slave, who performed the function of ‘ornatrix’, or hairdresser, and had been trained to arrange any of the currently fashionable complex styles, initiated her main task about half way through the roughly hour-long toilet. Any mistakes by such a girl in setting the day’s chosen type would often be severely punished in less amicable Roman households.

Application of additional make-up to Marcia’s features followed, comprising a choice of chalk, white lead, pale vermilion, rouge, carmine and an exotic extract of crocodile. Eye-shadow, from a selection of ash, powdered antimony, saffron or black lead, was added.

Marcia was subsequently dressed in clean loincloth underwear and either a ‘mamillare’ or a ‘strophium’ breast-band. She was then covered by a long white stola, drawn in at the waist and prettily ornamented at neck and hem. Alternatively, a simpler tunic of a selection of fabrics, such as wool, cotton or silk, might be chosen, which were thin and light and selected for elegance, as was reflected in the expensive sophisticated colours of sea-green, azure and blue. However, feminine garments of Tyrian purple were the sole prerogative of the Emperor’s wife.

Shoes of supple white leather would grace Marcia’s feet and then she would choose what jewellery to wear. Since Pompey’s bountiful eastern campaigns of over a century earlier, rich Roman matrons often glitter with precious stones.

Emerald pedants are popular, whilst aquamarines, opals and pearls set in gold regularly adorn many robes and footwear, as well as rings for hands and ears. However, the exceptionally hard rough diamonds that are often discovered in mines are not in evidence, as the art of cutting them still eludes jewellers.

On this day, Marcia selected a necklace pedant of joined pearls, which clicked as they tapped together in response to her movement. In addition to the rings adorning her fingers and ears, she also wore a serpent bracelet and brooches.

“Did you know,” Marcia asked of her quartet of attendant slaves, as they helped put on her last item of jewellery, “that Antonia, Emperor Claudius’ mother, attached earrings to fish in her ponds so that she could watch the bright flickerings as they swam through the waters?” Her young female servants giggled at the thought.

Bathed, face made up, hair done, dressed and bejewelled, the heavily pregnant lady Marcia was ready to expose herself to the late morning sunlight of Italica, whilst the very important child in her womb was still readying himself to arrive to make his significant mark in this world.

(Domus of Gaius Musonius Rufus, Subura Quarter, Rome, same time)

‘On the tongue of such a one they shed a honeyed dew, and from his lips drop gentle words.’

- Hesiod (‘Theogony’, 82)

I had stayed overnight in Gaius’ domus and, of course, in his bed. By now, I had updated him about my advancement to Imperial freedman and my new role for Britannicus, as well as providing him on a couple of occasions with a rectal receptacle for his sperm.

Gaius had been pontificating about my freedom when we had originally arrived in his bedchamber on the previous evening after enjoying a pleasant celebratory dinner. “Emancipation is not just the end of captivity for a Roman slave,” he had commented rather pompously, “for the granting of liberty and citizenship is generally also the culmination of a process of social integration. You see, the servant, who has already been partially incorporated into society via involvement with such institutions as household and family, finally becomes politically assimilated into the state!”

“Really?” I had replied. “Oh yes,” Gaius responded, whilst his mischievous grin revealed that his apparent verbose pomposity was a joke, albeit one with truth, “although in your case I prefer you to be assimilated with only one particularly worthy aspect of the Roman state!”

“What might that be?” I asked, although I already knew the answer. “Me, of course,” Gaius announced, as his sexually greedy hands reached out to deprive me of my tunic.

Now apparently sexually sated on the next morning, Gaius and I just rested in his bed in each other’s arms. He was also stroking my long silky fair hair with his free hand.

“Nemo nisi mors,” Gaius eventually whispered with clear sincerity.

“Nobody except death,” Gaius had declared, not needing to add ‘will ever part us’.

(To be continued in chapter LX – ‘Octavia’)