Domina (Paul Doherty Historical Mysteries) Read Online Free PDF Page B

cutting movement with her hand.
    ‘The real gossip,’ she demanded. ‘What of my son, the Emperor?’
    ‘He’s still being advised by Seneca.’
    ‘Our great philosopher,’ Acerronia mocked.
    ‘Burrus commands the Praetorian Guard.’
    ‘I put him there,’ Agrippina snapped.
    ‘Otho’s back from his travels.’
    ‘Is he now?’ Agrippina’s lip curled. ‘And does he still shave every hair of his body to make a toupee for his bald pate? Or rub his testicles against any sacred object he can find so as to make them stronger and more potent.’ She laughed. ‘If that succeeded I really would believe in the Gods!’
    ‘Tigellinus is also a rising star.’
    ‘May the Gods help us all if Tigellinus takes over.’ She paused, head down, staring from under her eyelids. ‘And Poppea Sabina?’
    Creperius sipped at his wine. I studied him carefully. A wild thought occurred. What if he had been bought? Was he really Domina’s faithful spy and servant or had Nero seduced him like he had the rest? Creperius’s watery eyes shifted towards me. He must have read my thoughts, for he shook his head slightly.
    ‘Poppea Sabina?’ Agrippina demanded.
    ‘She rules the Emperor’s heart,’ Creperius retorted. ‘Nero’s wife Octavia remains lady of the shadows. Acte,’ he sniffed at the mention of the Emperor’s former mistress, ‘is no more than a wisp of smoke. Poppea walks Rome as if she were a goddess. She covers her face with a veil: her constant prayer is that she dies before the pure whiteness of her skin is tinged with age.’
    ‘I’d be happy to arrange that,’ Agrippina murmured.
    ‘She bathes every day in the milk of asses. The Emperor has arranged for four hundred of these beasts to be kept stabled for her use. Her porphyry bath is filled with the stuff. She spends hours examining her body in long mirrors of polished silver. Crocodile mucus is bought for her hands and her body is dried with swansdown, her tongue stroked with black ivy sticks to make it soft and velvety. She has masseurs from Africa, perfumers from Cyprus, the best dressmakers from Alexandria. She uses saffron powder to make her hair turn amber and has launched a new perfume, her own recipe, ambergris.’ Creperius gestured towards the jug of vinegar. ‘Only the finest pearls from the Red Sea will do for Poppea. Her shoes are of pure white kid, and their soles are gold-leafed. When Poppea walks, her feet tap like a dancer coming onto the stage. They say she practises every movement of her eyes, her mouth, her face, her hands. She knows all there is of love-making.’
    ‘And, of course, Nero is entranced?’ Acerronia spoke up.
    ‘He’s infatuated. Poppea is now divorced from Otho but still plays the reluctant maid.’
    Creperius picked up a piece of shellfish. Agrippina seemed fascinated by a point beyond his head.
    ‘They are coming for me, aren’t they?’ Domina whispered.
    I half rose from the couch. Agrippina’s face had a stricken look. Her gaze had shifted to a shadowy corner as if she could see things we couldn’t.
    ‘Who’s coming, Domina?’ I murmured.
    ‘They are all there,’ she replied. ‘Dark-blue rings round their eyes, mouths gaping . . .’
    ‘Domina!’ I said harshly.
    She broke from the reverie. ‘So what, Creperius, is our little milkmaid saying to my son?’
    ‘Domina, this is only gossip.’
    ‘What is she saying?’ Agrippina’s voice rose to a shout.
    ‘Poppea demands if Nero is really Emperor of Rome. “The true ruler is your mother,” she rants. “All the important decisions are still hers”.’ And then Creperius repeated Poppea’s most bitter jibe, ‘“They call you Empress Nero and your mother Agrippina Emperor of Rome”.’
    I looked at my mistress. She sipped at the Falernian, rolling it round her tongue as she did when she was deeply engrossed. This was a fight to the death: Poppea was a deadly adversary.
    ‘Poppea,’ Creperius continued, ‘is supposed to have given your son a