Nero 27


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[WARNING] [BI] [PENECTOMY] [TESTICLES] [NULLIFICATION] [MINOR]

This is the twenty-seventh chapter of the autobiography of Bicilus, reputedly transcribed from the original Latin parchments and passed down through time until this version was discovered, translated and adapted for publication. The chapter describes some more of the happenings in Rome and the city’s vast Empire after the rescue of the young narrator from service as a galley slave.


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NERO

By Pueros

Chapter XXVII – Brothers

(Imperial palace, Rome, dies Lunae A.D. IV Id. Feb. DCCCII A.V.C., in the 8th year of the reign of the Emperor Claudius [Monday, 10th February, AD 49])

‘Principiis obsta; sero medicina paratur cum mala per longas convaluere moras.’

(‘Resist in the beginning; too late is the medicine prepared when evil has grown strong for a long time.’)

- Ovid (‘Remedia Amoris’)

I was not, of course, the only person to have concerns about Agrippina’s wooing of her uncle. The second most powerful man in the Empire, Narcissus, was also worried, as I personally discovered when I was intercepted by Doryphoros, after reluctantly leaving Claudius literally in the hands of his niece. The handsome young new assistant and bedfellow of the Imperial secretary had been waiting for me to invite me to an audience with his master.

Narcissus had always treated me with pleasant respect, apart from when he had believed me to be a treacherous sneak thief, but, having earlier realised and apologised profusely for his mistake, he now dealt with me with even greater politeness and regard. I gathered from our subsequent conversations that there were four main reasons for this further development in his attitude towards me.

Whilst trying my best to be factual not boastful, I genuinely believe that the first main reason was that he had begun to like me as a person, including recognising my beauty, worthiness of character and, perhaps to him, surprisingly comprehensive aptitudes. Narcissus’ eyes whenever we met indicated that he was physically attracted to me. However, the Imperial secretary never made a move to try to consummate such a fancy. I have always presumed that his sexual fidelity was such that he would never do so whilst he already had a lover, which, of course, he currently did in the handsome shape of Doryphoros, inherited from his late colleague, Polybius, murdered by Messalina. Meanwhile, my commendable disposition was, I think, partly exemplified to him by his perception that I truly lacked the slightest grievance towards him and his Imperial master for what had so recently happened to me. My abilities were demonstrated by my discreet diplomatic loyal efficiency in my duties, which now included regular supposedly private conversations with the Emperor, and my clear intellect, which had, of course, gained from the excellent education provided by Gaius. There are not many young barbarian eunuch slaves who are numerate and literate in Latin, and capable of discussing and quoting, amongst many wide-ranging topics, Greek and Roman mythology, philosophers and other writers. I later discovered that the freedman had learnt about these personal scholastic attributes via the spyholes, discovered by the deceased librarian, whereby the Principate’s principal servant, or some trusted members of his staff, would sometimes secretly listen to my discourses with the Princeps.

The second main reason for earning Narcissus’ respect was, I believe, because it was clearly now shared by Claudius. The evidence for this was the small alteration the Imperial secretary had made, at the Emperor’s request, to the Princeps’ will. The freedman appreciated that his master had not commanded the amendment just out of remorse, and a desire to right any moral wrongs perpetrated on my family and me since the invasion of Britannia. The current holder of the purple was not normally so altruistic when trying to correct unfortunate consequences of policy or personal blunders. The de-facto prime minister recognised that the present most powerful man in the world had instead already decided that I would prove worthy of the eventual reward, even though I had only been in his service for a short period.

The third main reason was, I am sure, my range of friends. After the Imperial secretary’s recent dealings with Petronius, Gaius and Palaemon, all of whom he had not previously really known but now instantly liked, I believe that he began to consider me in a different perspective. It was obvious to the freedman that the interest in me of an intellectual patrician, of increasing reputation, a rich equestrian, with philosophical ambitions, and a wealthy renowned teacher was not just down to my looks. I suggest, with as much humility as I can muster, that he must therefore have realised that, for such people to have gone to so much trouble to save a mere barbarian eunuch slave, I might be someone special.

The fourth main reason was that Narcissus wanted to recruit me to his anti-Agrippina cause. I know this because he now diplomatically enlisted me during the audience with him. I later learnt that the Imperial secretary had become aware of my sympathy to his aim through the eavesdropping of my conversations with the current holder of the purple. Those in which I had made subliminal suggestions to the Emperor that perhaps he should enjoy himself with slave girls, rather than ambitious females from Rome’s patrician classes, had provided him with the clue regarding our joint design. It would thereby have been clear to the highly astute freedman that I was as fearful as he was in respect of the future, if someone like the Imperial niece, daughter of Claudius’ deceased heroic brother, Germanicus, married the Princeps. It must also have occurred to him that having a furtive ally in my court position might be very useful.

At the audience, Narcissus told me of his own concerns for the Emperor and the Empire if Claudius succumbed to a fourth disastrous marriage, leaving personal worries for his own welfare unsaid. However, I do believe that the Imperial secretary could be truly selfless and was genuinely more anxious at the time about the wider good than the safety of his own skin. His own massive wealth was, I later discerned, garnered not from greed but from realistic sad recognition that the additional influence such riches literally afforded was one of his few defences if his fortunes changed.

Narcissus’ unselfish attitude was confirmed, in my own mind, when he talked about eventually delivering the Empire safely into the hands of Britannicus when the boy was old enough to succeed his father, which was at least 8 years away. The Imperial secretary expressed his hopes that Claudius could live that long, without turbulence in his life and without rivals to his son’s claim to the purple.

With a gleam in his eyes, indicating genuine admiration, Narcissus lauded the flowering capabilities and attitudes of Britannicus, who would be celebrating his 8th birthday on the following day, and emphasised the need to safeguard the prince and his entitlement to succeed. From personal experience of the boy, I could not possibly disagree with the Imperial secretary’s policy. Although Rome was still in the process of subduing my homeland, I also knew that it would be better for everyone, including my own people, if the Empire was ruled with wise capability.

Accordingly, I eventually left Narcissus’ presence that day, to return to my personal palace accommodation, having agreed to keep him informed about any relevant developments of which I might hear, as a result of my regular close proximity to Claudius. I understand that the Imperial secretary then went to a meeting to discuss, with other officials, the Emperor’s various building projects, whilst both of us were ignorant of the fact that our hopes for the future were already unravelling.

The beginning of the reshaping of Rome, as a capital on a truly Imperial scale, can be actually traced to the late Republic, when citizen magnates competed with each other for power and esteem. Examples of this are the development of areas of the Campus Martius by Pompey, most notably his Theatre and related buildings, and the creation of Caesar’s Forum. However, it was under Augustus that the redevelopment of the centre of the city took off, primarily for political propagandistic reasons.

Consequently, by the time of Claudius’ accession, much of Rome’s rebuilding had been completed and there was little in the way of large-scale projects in the city centre to demand his attention. This had already manifested itself in the sharp decline of public works during the reigns of Tiberius and Gaius Caligula, the social consequences of which, in a vast metropolis used to Imperial patronage of the building trade, was significant in terms of higher unemployment and associated evils.

Rome’s municipal economic and social situation was such that, on Claudius’ accession to the purple, the new Emperor considered it expedient to provide a much-needed boost to the construction industry. However, given the completeness of most of the centre of the city, the Princeps decided that the nature of the new work should be somewhat different from that performed previously, which had tended to concentrate on magnificent buildings, monuments and squares, and he instead concentrated primarily on infrastructure projects.

There were basically three sound reasons why Claudius initiated these generally enormous infrastructure projects. First, the work was needed to provide employment and thereby avert potential social unrest, which might prove dangerous to not only his Principate but also the established order. Second, the undertakings were genuinely required to make ordinary life more bearable for the rapidly expanding population of Rome. Third but personally foremost, the Emperor had wanted to establish himself in public regard after his elevation by the army rather than popular acclaim, a motivation that was also exemplified by his conquest of Britannia.

Narcissus’ meeting would have been to discuss the progress of such infrastructure projects. I have already mentioned, in the earlier chapters of my autobiography, the significant undertakings to improve the harbour facilities at Ostia, which helped to secure the flow of goods, especially basic foodstuffs, into Rome. These enhancements were supplemented by the construction of a new main storage and redistribution centre for grain in the capital itself, the Porticus Minucia Frumentaria.

Claudius’ other massive infrastructure initiatives included the building of aqueducts and the draining of the Fucine Lake. Both Caesar and Augustus had rejected the latter project as being impractical but the prospect of surpassing these divine predecessors, by achieving such a monumental feat, only fortified the current Emperor’s resolve to pursue the huge scheme.

The Aqua Claudia and the Aqua Anio Novus, both of which are about 40 Roman miles long, were built, with sizeable stretches carried above ground on brick arches. These latter aqueduct features, when crossing major roads in the capital, become spectacular and one such section was ornamented to form a rusticated triumphal arch commemorating Claudius’ conquest of Britannia.

Nevertheless, the greatest project was the draining of the Fucine Lake, which required the labours of 30,000 men. The lake, which was situated about fifty miles east of Rome and was fed by the run-off of rain from the Apennines, had no natural river out-fall. It was normally drained solely by evaporation and ground seepage, which when combined with the sloping bottom conspired to produce local irregular cycles of flood and drought.

The land initially exposed during the early shrinkage of the lake was rich in alluvium and consequently proved to be highly productive farmland, important to assist the feeding of the Roman masses. However, the local inhabitants, the Marsi, were frustrated in their exploitation of this resource by continued frequent flooding. The approach taken by Claudius and his capable freedmen to rectify the problem displayed the audacity typical of many of their engineering schemes. A tunnel, three miles long, was forced through the difficult geology of a mountain to link with a distant river.

Work of a less utilitarian nature undertaken in Claudius’ reign was limited. In terms of triumphal arches, in addition to the one commemorating the Britannia campaign, another, topped by a flat attic with an equestrian statue and celebrating victories in Germania, was constructed, whilst a third was erected near the Theatre of Pompey in honour of Tiberius. Meanwhile, the Emperor’s attentions regarding religious structures were limited to the Ara Pietatis Augustae, built to commemorate Augustus’ wife, Livia.

The building of this monument was, in the context of my saga, portentously ironic, given that it is rumoured that Livia eventually poisoned the aging Augustus because her son, Tiberius, was impatient to succeed to the Principate. However, I was, of course currently unaware of this augury, as I went from my audience with Narcissus to the small but pleasant bedchamber I shared with Apollinus. My mind was instead still mulling over my recent conversation with the Imperial secretary, which is the only reason I can give for my thoughtlessness in arriving unexpectedly early at my destination.

I was supposed still to be with Claudius, having earlier advised Apollinus that the Emperor had indicated that he wanted me to stay with him throughout his audience with Agrippina, and then his later evening cena. However, the Imperial niece’s charms, particularly her low-cut stola, had prevailed over the Princeps’ intent and good sense, inducing him to discharge me prematurely.

The result was unintentional ‘coitus interruptus’ of activity between Apollinus and Petronius. My rampant naked friends were locked in a form of sexual union that I naively never previously believed was physically possible. I am unsure whose faces became redder, mine or theirs, at my disturbance of their passion, from which I beat a hasty embarrassed retreat. However, afterwards, when I eventually returned rather sheepishly, believing that I had given the loving duo enough time not only to recover from my interference but also to achieve final successful coition, the three of us could not help but dissolve into uncontrollable laughter. We were now amused by recall of our earlier mutual abashment. After all, we had all thoroughly enjoyed each other’s bodies at some time and my own form, earlier in the afternoon, had already been pleasured by Gaius, albeit more conservatively during the young equestrian’s daily visit.

Our laughter was curtailed when there was a polite knock on the door of the bedchamber. As my friends had now redressed, I invited whoever was outside to “Please come in!” My face lit up when I saw who was seeking entry, because it was my own lover from the previous summer, Apollinus’ younger brother, Helius, guided to our accommodation by what I thought at first were two very young palace slaves.

My mistake regarding the latter identity was quickly corrected when a sweetly smiling Britannicus, inevitable but almost equally pleasant Titus Flavius Vespasianus junior at his side, announced “Look whom I’ve brought to see you!”

(Domus of Aulus Plautius, Rome, shortly afterwards)

‘Non mortem timemus, sed cogitationem mortis.’

(‘We do not fear death, but the thought of death.’)

- Seneca the Younger (‘Epistulae Morales’)

Aulus Plautius junior and Aulus Plautius Suffuscus also shared the same bedchamber, although theirs, as befitted young patricians of a wealthy family, was much bigger and resplendent than that occupied by Apollinus and me. The former had recently celebrated his 5th birthday whilst his adopted older brother would soon become an 11 year-old.

Both brothers, as they tried to sleep in their respective large beds, were looking forward to attending Britannicus’ own birthday on the following day. This attitude was due not only to the exciting prospect of visiting the Imperial palace again but also to their liking for the Emperor’s son and his best friend, Titus Flavius Vespasianus junior.

The brothers had recently spent much time in the company of Britannicus and Titus, at the palace and their own domus, and whilst attending, with their fathers, chariot racing and gladiatorial contests, when they would invariably be seated in the Imperial boxes at the respective arenas. A close friendship had accrued, despite the age differentials. The male parents, comprising the Emperor and the two great generals, had been delighted at the clear rapport between their offspring and had decided to foster the relationship further by encouraging regular meetings between the quartet, although this did not as yet extend to sharing educational arrangements.

Having discussed the next day’s excursion to the palace, the younger brother, still not sleepy, asked his older sibling about his visit earlier that day to Nigerinus’ funerary establishment. “Well, Aulus,” the 10 year-old began with deliberate teasing and whilst using the praenomen by which he always addressed the 5 year-old, “it was very interesting but possibly too scary to describe to someone as young as you!”

The smiling older brother believed that this suggestion would only spur his younger sibling to demand the full gory description of funerary activities and he was not disappointed in his supposition. “No I’m not, Suffuscus!” the affronted 5 year-old protested, using the cognomen by which he always addressed the 10 year-old.

“You’ll have nightmares!” Suffuscus continued to tease. “No I won’t,” Aulus pleaded, “please tell me!”

“Alright,” the older brother relented, just as he knew from the start that he would. Suffuscus then went on to relate to Aulus what he had learnt at Nigerinus’ funerary establishment about how rich Romans are sent on their way to Hades.

When a male patrician dies, his body is usually publicly displayed, often in the Forum if the man is of sufficient importance. Another leading member of his family proclaims the virtues of the deceased, setting them alongside those of his ancestors. The occasion is frequently regarded as a treasured opportunity for a ‘gens’ to reassert familial identity and achievements.

Suffuscus described how Nigerinus made death masks from wax, which are subsequently carried, alongside those of the deceased’s ancestors, in the final funeral procession to the place of cremation and interment of the ashes. The older custom of burial of bodies is now rarely practised.

Portraits of the recently departed, often a copy of one that adorns the family domus, are also usually attached to the coffins, which are of wood for easy cremation. Those made of lead, and ornately carved stone sarcophagi produced mainly for display above ground, were only employed in earlier times when inhumations were more common.

Processions following the traditional funerary rites take place at night, torches lighting the way, and are headed by musicians playing dirges. Sometimes mourners are hired to exaggerate the extent of grief. The eventual destination will be outside a community because laws prohibit burials within the walls of a fort or town for all except those under 10 days old, who have had no legal existence. Cemeteries are therefore usually found lining the roads just outside municipalities, with the monuments of the rich erected so that they can be seen from the adjacent thoroughfares.

Many cemeteries possess family mausoleums, or ‘columbaria’, which are tombs with rows of niches for funerary urns. Ashes of freedmen occupy the lower tiers, recalling their ties to, and status in respect of, their familial patrons. Otherwise, the ashes of the dead, placed in containers of pottery, glass or lead, are buried at spots marked by upright carved gravestones, inscribed with details of the deceased personages, sometimes with a pictorial representation.

Poor plebeians can expect sacks or shrouds instead of coffins unless they had prepared for better departures by joining and maintaining membership of burial clubs. Meanwhile, the ashes of dead slaves might, if they are lucky, be placed in stone jars bought by benevolent owners, before burial in an unmarked cemetery location. Meanwhile, it is not uncommon for kind masters to be commemorated by thankful freedmen by means of memorials, bearing inscriptions and perhaps carved facial reliefs.

Suffuscus described to Aulus how the rich deceased would be sent on their journey to eternity with their most valued possessions besides them in their coffins, including thoughtfully their best shoes for ease of travel. Nigerinus also placed coins in the mouths of the wealthy departed, to allow them to pay the required fee to Charon, the ferryman who carries the dead across the river Styx to Hades. The oral orifice is used because the hands are occupied by cakes, with which to feed Cerebus, the three-headed dog that guards the entrance to the underworld.

A little later that night, Suffuscus felt Aulus join him in the older brother’s bed. However, the 10 year-old now said nothing to embarrass or scare his sibling, just gently embracing the 5 year-old until the infant’s obvious but undeclared concerns about death went away and the platonically loving pair drifted instead into sound sleep.

(Imperial palace, Rome, the next day, dies Martis A.D. III Id. Feb. DCCCII A.V.C., in the 8th year of the reign of the Emperor Claudius [Tuesday, 11th February, AD 49])

‘Quia natura mutari non potest idcirco verae amicitiae sempiternae sunt.’

(‘Since nature cannot change, true friendships are eternal.’)

- Horace

Both Apollinus and I were attending our respective Imperial masters at Britannicus’ 8th birthday celebration. Meanwhile, our surprise guest, 14 year-old Helius, was being shown round other parts of the vast Imperial palace by Doryphoros.

Britannicus had become aware of Helius’ existence by asking his soon-to-be 17 year-old slave of Greek origin about his family. The youth was now very willing to tell anyone about his father, mother and brother because the need for secrecy was no longer necessary. The son of Claudius had then decided to arrange a surprise visit from the younger brother, facilitated by his new acquaintanceship with the boy slave’s new owner, Palaemon. The fresh relationship between beautiful prince and renowned teacher had, of course, been a by-product of the conspiracy to trap Titus Vinius and rescue me from the galleys. The lovely likely heir to the Principate had been happy to fulfil his role in the project, at Apollinus’ request, for the sake of both justice and adventure.

Britannicus professed that he had arranged Helius’ surprise trip because he believed that young brothers should not have to endure separation for too long whilst growing up. The boy propounded a similar thoughtful theory when he advised the delighted Apollinus that he could take leave to return with his sibling to Palaemon’s Umbrian vineyard to visit his parents. However, it was my belief at the time that the prince’s kindness was due not only to his considerate nature but also to a desire not to deprive anyone of some of the pleasures of a simple family life, for which I am sure he too secretly longed. No reason has since emerged to encourage me to change my opinion.

Despite my desires to see the new 8 year-old eventually accede to the purple, I have to confess that I now prayed to the divine deities that the youngster’s furtive wish could somehow one day come true. As I look back on these adjurations, I cannot help but wonder at how the gods work in truly mysterious ways.

Britannicus’ professions in respect of his motive for inviting Helius to his vast resplendent residence was not, however, entirely altruistic, as we shall see. Neither indeed was Doryphoros’ offer to show the young visitor around the palace, whilst his brother and I were busy with our duties.

Doryphoros had spotted Helius’ arrival and enquiries eventually led the young freedman to the bedchamber, which I shared with Apollinus and now temporarily with my friend’s younger brother. I already appreciated that Narcissus’ new assistant, like his master, fancied me, although I believe that it was not his relationship with the Imperial secretary that had so far prevented him from attempting a seduction. Rather, I think that he did not want to suffer a brush-off, which, although I would have tried to be diplomatically polite, might still have hurt his proud sensibilities. I am positive that he had perceptively appreciated that, given the continued daily arrival of Gaius and my clear infatuation with the young equestrian from Volsinii, there was no-one else who could also possibly occupy my heart.

To Doryphoros, Helius, now even more beautiful than when I had last seen him during the previous summer, must have seemed a very attractive alternative to my allures. The fact that the young freedman was to be eventually rewarded for his efforts towards the boy was, in my opinion, due to two main reasons. Narcissus’ assistant was undoubtedly aided by the charms of his own physique and character, plus appreciation by his 14 year-old sexual prey that he would not be resuming the same sort of association with me that we had enjoyed the previous summer, given the fact that here Gaius was around.

I do not believe that either Doryphoros or Helius ever subsequently regretted the relationship they formed.

(Byzantium, Roman Imperial province of Thracia, same time)

‘Vir bonus, dicendi peritus.’

(‘A good man, skilled in speaking.’)

- Cato the Elder (defining an orator)

A bearded member of the new Jewish sect, known to some as the Christians, was preaching to a small gathering. Amongst those whom Andrew, brother of Cephas, was hoping to convert to his faith was a young man called Stachys.

(Imperial palace, Rome, same time)

‘Frater, ave atque vale!’

(‘Brother, hello and good-bye!’)

- Catullus (101, 10)

The latest young guest to arrive at Britannicus’ birthday celebration, to be greeted politely by the prince, was a smirking Lucius Domitius Ahenobarbus, who surprised the younger birthday boy by returning the host’s courteous welcome with the words “Hello, brother!”

“What do you mean by ‘brother’?” Britannicus not unreasonably asked. “Oh,” Lucius Domitius Ahenobarbus answered, whilst his sneer broadened, “I hope that you don’t think me premature, or haven’t you yet heard?” “Heard what?” the prince enquired.

“Your father and my mother are to be married next week,” Lucius Domitius Ahenobarbus announced, “and I’ll then be your older brother!”

(To be continued in chapter XXVIII – ‘Suicides’)



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