Nero 22

By Pueros

Chapter XXII – Tastes

(Imperial palace, Rome, Dies Solis A.D. III Id. Oct. DCCCI A.V.C., in the 7th year of the reign of the Emperor Claudius [or Sunday, 13th October AD 48])

‘Imperium et libertas.’

(‘Autocracy and freedom.’)

- Tacitus (praising the Emperor Nerva in ‘Agricola’ for having supposedly been able to combine two seemingly incompatible ruling ethos)

News of the attempted coup soon spread around Rome and a number of Claudius’ closest supporters, along with many of his greatest sycophants, rushed to the palace to offer their help to the Emperor to crush the conspiracy. The Princeps’ few genuine friends, unconcerned about their personal welfare, arrived first, before anyone really knew that the situation was safe and whilst most obsequious courtiers waited until they were sure of the outcome of the plot. The latter personages would almost certainly have sped to Messalina and Caius Silius if matters had unfolded differently.

Claudius, despite his present acute drunkenness, indulged to relieve traumatic shock, and reputation for being a half-wit, only allowed those whom he really knew were loyal to see him. Such sensible discernment helped to prove, albeit unknowingly to most, that the rumour about the Emperor’s stupidity was undeserved, in all respects except beautiful women.

Narcissus, as usual, proficiently oversaw the filtering of visitors into his Imperial master’s presence, and naturally permitted admittance to one of his oldest friends. On his part, Titus Flavius Vespasianus, despite his deserved reputation for being a very brave and able general and appreciating that circumstances were still potentially dangerous, had lacked the fortitude and guile to persuade his determined young 7 year-old son not to accompany him.

Titus Flavius Vespasianus junior wanted to comfort his similarly aged best friend, Britannicus, on the prince’s loss of his mother, Messalina, particularly as the circumstances were so appalling. The general’s military training had not prepared him to be capable of refusing the desperate entreaties of his beloved son.

Titus Flavius Vespasianus senior and junior arrived at the Imperial palace in the company of Aulus Plautius and Narcissus immediately allowed the two famous generals access to Claudius, whilst the boy amongst the trio proceeded to Britannicus’ resplendent quarters. The 7 year-old was not surprised to discover the prince shocked and sombre. However, he was also not surprised to find that that was as far as his best friend’s emotions extended.

Titus Flavius Vespasianus junior knew that Britannicus had not been very close to his mother, who appeared to take notice of her son only when court etiquette dictated. Neither boy yet appreciated that this poor maternal attitude had primarily stemmed from the woman’s other overriding interests, namely sex and the acquisition of power and riches. To Messalina, her young male offspring had simply been the puppet mechanism by which she and Caius Silius would attain the purple in all but title.

Britannicus was closer to his father than his mother, but even closer to the coterie of faithful loving slaves who had primarily been responsible for looking after him whilst he was growing up. Such a phenomenon is not unusual in high Roman society, where parents often have lofty concerns and ambitions beyond the mere rearing of offspring, which they believe is best left to domestic minions. To many patricians, their children are to be occasionally seen and hardly ever heard amongst non-slave adult company, the youngsters’ main role in life being to propagate and progress the family line in future. There are happy exceptions to this practice but the home life of the son of Claudius and Messalina was not one of them.

Accordingly, Britannicus was fatalistically melancholy at his mother’s demise, and the circumstances in which her death had occurred, but not overly so, certainly not to the extent of wanting to shed tears for her. His attitude was assisted by being fully aware of previous family tragedies. Nevertheless, the young prince was happy to see his best friend, and the two 7 year-olds were soon engrossed in chat about recent events.

Meanwhile, amongst those denied access to the Emperor by Narcissus were Palaemon and my beloved Gaius, who were accompanied by Petronius. The renowned teacher and the 18 year-old youth from Volsinii had not been arrested by soldiers, acting of behalf of the conspirators, because the attempted coup had never advanced that far. In fact, neither currently knew that they had been targeted for elimination by the plotters or that Caius Silius' major domo had acted against me prematurely.

Palaemon, Gaius and Petronius had rushed to the Imperial palace on learning of the failed coup and the fact that the whole of Caius Silius’ household had been arrested and taken to the Emperor’s vast residence for interrogation. The trio was rightly highly concerned for the welfare of Apollinus and me, recognising what form our questioning, designed to elicit the full extent of the conspiracy and our own role in the plot, would take. They knew that the Praetorians would torture slaves horribly just to reassure themselves that their victims were innocent of any wrongdoing.

Unfortunately, Narcissus counted Palaemon, Gaius and Petronius amongst the sycophants requesting access to the Emperor. The Imperial secretary knew of the renowned teacher and the so-called ‘elegentiae arbiter’, or ‘arbiter of taste’, but did not recognise them as being close to either him or his master. The freedman, through a minor court official, also denied them an immediate audience with himself, being currently too busy with the aftermath of the coup to meet the men to see what they wanted.

Denied access to both Claudius and Narcissus, Palaemon, Gaius and Petronius were unable to find out from anyone else what exactly was happening to Caius Silius’ household. In their increasing panic, the trio considered trying to infiltrate themselves into the palace dungeons, where they correctly assumed we had to be, but found the way barred by many guards, who could not be induced by either anguished pleas or gold coins to let them pass. All of the soldiers, normally very susceptible to accepting bribes, believed that current circumstances were simply too fluidly dangerous to take the tempting money, preferring instead to guarantee life rather than submit to the risk of being executed for disobedience of orders or dereliction of duty.

In the end, Palaemon, Gaius and Petronius had to give up their desperate attempts for fear of being arrested themselves on suspicion of being conspirators trying to rescue colleagues. The frustrated trio felt compelled instead to wait for the promised eventual meeting with Narcissus. They remained in the palace for the rest of the day and all of the night, and were still impatiently waiting for their audience with the Imperial secretary when dawn arrived and, in the bowels of the vast residence, I was being attached to the rack.

“Now, boy,” the ugly smirking sweaty chief interrogator again commanded, “tell me what you know about your master’s treacherous conspiracy against the Emperor, or the wheel will turn once more!”

My body was literally stretched to breaking point, for my mind realised, despite my intense excruciation, that another turn would at least dislocate a limb or two. However, all I could do in response to the man’s order was utter a loud agonised groan, knowing that I had nothing to tell him.

“Well, boy,” the interrogator commented, whilst probably similarly appreciating that further movement of the wheel would now cause damage as well as pain, “you’ve asked for it!” He then nodded to his colleague who actually operated the awful contraption.

Fortunately, another well-timed intervention, in the form of a very young but nevertheless most welcome voice, saved me from terrible anguish.

“I don’t think that he’s asked for it,” the young voice advised, “or deserves what you’re doing to him. Stop at once and release the boy!” The angry interrogator immediately looked behind to find out who the impertinent brat could be who was interrupting his pleasurable activity, for which he had a lifelong taste. The smirk was instantly wiped from the man’s face when he discovered the identity of the young intruder.

Britannicus was standing to the rear of the interrogator, with Titus Flavius Vespasianus junior alongside him.

“I’m just carrying out my orders, young Sir,” the shocked interrogator managed to splutter. However, the young very pretty prince retorted “Well, they’ve been rescinded and, if you value your life, you had better not yet have used any of your gadgets on my friends, Sribonia and Tullia!”

“I was saving the traitor’s daughters for last,” the interrogator replied. However, the Praetorian soon recognised that he might have used the wrong words when Britannicus responded “Perhaps you should replace them instead!” The man therefore tried to wriggle out of his discomforting predicament by asking “What should I now do with the prisoners, young Sir?”

“Have the servants, except their major domo, accommodated in the palace slave quarters until the decision is made what to do with them,” Britannicus commanded with authority, “and have Sribonia and Tullia brought to my own chambers.” The interrogator coughed in answer, apparently reluctant to confess something.

“Yes, what’s the problem?” the perceptive Britannicus enquired. “Some of the servants will require medical attention and assistance with moving,” the Praetorian advised, now with clear trepidation in his own voice, “and their major domo died under interrogation. Of all those so far questioned, he was the only one we found to have been implicated in the heinous plot against your divine father.”

“My father isn’t a god yet,” Britannicus observed, “and it is also now known, from the questioning of others before they were executed, that those in the know about the conspiracy did not include any member of Caius Silus’ household except for the freeman who ran it. That’s why the Emperor has allowed me to come to collect my friends and put the suffering of their innocent servants to an end.” The young prince did not add that the deeply despondent Claudius had originally been totally disinterested in the fate of my late master’s daughters and human chattels. However, the intervention of the Princeps’ delightful son, after his conversation with Titus Flavius Vespasianus junior, had persuaded the holder of the purple to permit the salvation for now of Sribonia and Tullia. The girls’ slaves were an afterthought of the boys, which was nevertheless most welcome for all concerned, not least myself.

“Yes, young Sir,” was the frustrated interrogator’s meek reply to Britannicus, who hardly reached up to the tall Praetorian’s waist.

Meanwhile, at the interrogator’s discreet command, I had been detached and lifted from the dreadful rack. I also had my very stiff and sore, but otherwise undamaged, limbs massaged back to a semblance of normality by some of the Praetorian’s colleagues, who were equally as worried for their personal futures as their leader. I was then redressed in the scarlet tunic worn by the slaves of my deceased master’s inner household.

Britannicus watched my restoration to physical normality and his face suddenly displayed some recognition of who I might be. Brushing past the interrogator, the 7 year-old advanced towards me, with the inevitable Titus Flavius Vespasianus at his side, to ask “Don’t I know you?”

“Yes, Sire,” I managed to stutter, despite the residual cramps and pain in my limbs, “I am……..,sorry, was servant to Sribonia and Tullia.” “Ah, yes,” Britannicus commented, “of course, I now recognise you more fully after you’ve been removed from the rack and restored in your uniform. Well, eun….” I could tell that the pretty prince was, unthinkingly, about to address me by an appellation that described my genital condition before his inherent politeness changed his mind. The 7 year-old instead recovered his usual civility to continue “Well, boy, please attend to your mistresses forthwith, as they’ll certainly currently need good service!”

Despite the command from the prospective heir to the purple, I hesitated to comply with Britannicus’ order, a delay noticed by the boy. “Of course,” Britannicus remarked, “you won’t know where they are. However, I’m sure that the Praetorians here will unite you with your mistresses before escorting you all to the safety and comfort of my quarters.” A couple of the soldiers immediately offered themselves to guide me to the tiny cell where the petrified girls had been incarcerated.

Nevertheless, I noticeably continued to hesitate. This further delay caused the interrogator, now keen to gain the favour of the prince, to approach me, having picked up a leather crop from the array of torture implements on the way. As the man came to my side, he raised his weapon and shouted “Obey the young Sir, you useless disobedient brat!”

The interrogator’s instruction was accompanied by a vicious swat of his crop across my bottom. My posterior was barely covered by the thin cloth of my scarlet tunic and already marked with a sanguine stripe from the whip of the late but unlamented major domo of the deceased but equally unmourned, at least by me, Caius Silius. However, I somehow managed to show neither shock nor pain and instead simply stood my ground, still reluctant to proceed on my errand. It was the wielder of the crop who instead cringed and shouted out in surprised anguish, as Britannicus, his young self now armed with a cane, struck the man’s hand with the implement.

The interrogator’s squeal was accompanied by the fall to the cool stone floor of his leather crop and an admonishment from Britannicus. “How dare you,” the prince exclaimed, “strike someone whom I’ve commissioned to serve me.” The 7 year-old then ordered some of the other Praetorians to “Get him out of my sight and flog him. Ten strokes of the whip should cause him to remember how to treat those in my service in future!” The appalled interrogator was immediately brusquely escorted away, his previous sinister authority displaced by pitiful entreaties for mercy. However, during the years ahead, the man was eventually to secure revenge for his imminent degrading and agonising plight.

Britannicus now again turned to me and asked, whilst I discreetly rubbed my sore bottom, “Why do you still delay in obeying me?”

“I’m sorry, Sire,” I answered, “but may I please first let a friend in a nearby cell know that I’m alright, as I believe he’ll be concerned for my welfare in this place.” Britannicus looked round the torture chamber, full of terrible equipment for human torment, before facing me once more. The 7 year-old then smiled, an expression that was completely disarming to all who would ever observe it, and replied “Of course, and take him with you, as I’m sure he too can be of service.” However, I unashamedly continued to hesitate. Nevertheless, the boy maintained his pleasant patient composure and gently enquired “What now?”

“My master…., sorry, former master,” I stuttered, “didn’t like young ungelded slaves near his daughters.” Britannicus’ sweet smile broadened before he responded “I’m sure your boyfriend can keep his passions in check whilst helping you. Now, before you go, is there anything else you require before you finally fulfil your mission?” My answer was just an embarrassed negative nod of the head and a blushing of the face. Fortunately, the prince, 9 years younger than me but seemingly wise beyond his tender years, kindly ignored my lack of etiquette in providing a non-verbal reply.

A couple of hours later, a deeply relieved Apollinus and I found ourselves in Britannicus’ palatial quarters, having recently tried to serve the traumatised and constantly crying Sribonia and Tullia with some food and drink, brought by palace slaves at the command of their young host. However, the now orphaned girls, obviously grieving for their dead father and fearful for their own future, could not be consoled either by the tempting taste of the delicious fare or the soothing commiserations proffered by the prince and his best friend. Their attitude was understandable, given that the traditional fate of the offspring of traitors is death, invariably preceded, if they are virgins, by rape, regardless of gender, as it is considered sacrilege to kill previously chaste humans.

Apollinus and I discretely now stood in a corner, observing the sad scene whilst looking rather incongruous in the resplendent surroundings because our bodies and attire were dishevelled as a result of our recent experiences. We too were concerned for our own prospects, wondering what our immediate futures boded. We were soon to find out after Claudius arrived in his son’s chambers, accompanied by a retinue of guards and officials, including Narcissus.

“So,” the sobered Claudius exclaimed, whilst looking menacingly at Sribonia and Tullia, “these are the daughters of that traitor, Caius Silius!” However, whatever the Emperor’s original intentions towards the two girls might have been, the course of events regarding their future was largely dictated by Britannicus, who now engaged in gentle compassionate debate with his purple-clad father.

The discussion between father and son approached a conclusion when Claudius finally announced “It’s settled then. The girls are to live with their maternal uncle in Leptis Minor in Africa. However, I suggest that there they settle, marry and have children in a quiet anonymous way because, if I ever hear of them or their kin again, their heads will be forfeit!” Sribonia and Tullia must have complied with the Emperor’s command because, after Apollinus and I left Britannicus’ quarters, we never saw, or learnt anything about, our former young mistresses again.

“At your request, Britannicus,” Claudius concluded, “I’ll allow the girls a twentieth of their late father’s wealth to help their resettlement. The rest of the traitor’s resources are naturally confiscated by me!” The Emperor then turned to Narcissus, with a gleam in the Imperial eye after recognising that some good, in the form of Caius Silius’ vast riches in cash and property, including slaves, was emanating from the recent traumatic events.

“Have all of the traitor’s residences, estates and chattels sold,” Claudius commanded Narcissus, “and later advise me of the sum acquired, presumably after the normal commissions.” The Emperor, fully aware of the monetary graft perpetrated by his freedmen whilst conducting Imperial business, now shared a smile with his secretary.

Claudius did not mind his principal freedmen acquiring wealth in this manner, as long as they served him well and the bulk of all largesse reached his own coffers. After all, his main servants were encouraged to be even more proficient in securing Imperial revenues because of the secret commissions they accrued. They had also just proved their efficiency and worth by saving their master’s Principate.

“Do you want me to send all of the traitor’s slaves to auction,” Narcissus asked of Claudius, as the Imperial retinue began to leave Britannicus’ quarters, business having been concluded, “or do you want to select a few for palace service?” “No, I’ve enough servants,” the Emperor answered, “so sell them all.” Hearing this, I began to hope that Apollinus and I could be bought by Petronius and Gaius respectively. However, my aspirations were quickly thwarted, after the Princeps spotted us standing quietly in the corner.

Claudius advanced towards Apollinus and me, in his usual disconcertingly jerking manner, and inspected our tunics. “Ah,” the Emperor declared as he espied Caius Silius’ insignia on our garments, “a pair of the traitor’s slaves!” The Princeps then examined my face in particular.

“Don’t I know you, boy?” the most powerful man in the world then asked. Despite beginning to quiver in trepidation, I managed to answer “Yes, Imperial majesty. I once served you at a banquet.” Clear recognition then dawned on Claudius’ face and he stated “And poured wine all over me, if I recall!”

My face immediately turned as scarlet as my tunic and my body visibly shook in fright. However, my fear at what Claudius might do on remembering our previous meeting was at first extinguished by the smile that appeared on the 58 year-old’s face before being replaced by shock when an Imperial hand reached under my tunic to fondle my gelded genitalia.

I somehow resisted the immense temptation to try to resist the public manual exploration of my most private parts. My cowardice came from recognition that the immensely powerful perpetrator of the demeaning act could in reality do anything he wanted to anyone. I therefore just stood there, acutely shame-faced, as Claudius proceeded with his examination. My shocked and humiliated mind did, however, wonder why the Emperor was perpetrating the deed because he was not known for liking boys, having a reputation instead for heterosexual appetites.

My distressed wonderment came to an end when Claudius withdrew his hand, which had actually only been under my tunic for a few seconds, although to me the time seemed an eternity, and announced “I was just confirming that you’re a eunuch. You see, boy, I like eunuchs in my service and a vacancy has just arisen. How would you like to taste my food and drink for me?” Naturally, I could not deny the offer of a job from most powerful man in the world, as to refuse could cost me my head.

Britannicus, observing proceedings from nearby, now intervened. “If you accept him into your service,” the smiling 7 year-old suggested, “I know from personal experience that it’ll be best for efficiency to take his boyfriend, who’s standing next to him, too. Titus and I can testify to the other slave’s ability, as he served us at the banquet you mentioned.” Apollinus had earlier been delighted to discover that the prince and his best friend had remembered him from the great feast held over two years previously at Caius Silius’ urban villa.

Later that day, Palaemon, Gaius and Petronius finally achieved their audience with Narcissus. “I think that I’m aware of the boys of whom you speak,” the smirking Imperial secretary had responded to the trio’s concerned enquiries about the welfare of Apollinus and I. The freedman then sent one of his slaves to collect us.

Palaemon, Gaius and Petronius were speechless when Apollinus and I were finally brought into Narcissus’ audience chamber. Not only had my friend and I been resplendently washed and groomed but also we now wore the rich white and purple tunics of Imperial slaves.

(To be continued in chapter XXIII – ‘Courtships’)