fear.”
Helius knew well the tone of Nero’s voice. It was exuberant anticipation, dulled by wine. He was always like this before any event that would indulge an outrageous whim.
“Doctors?” Sporus said. “You mean there is something to fear? You wouldn’t say that unless—” He gasped. “Are you ill?”
Helius choked back a laugh. This was wonderful! Almost worth all the worries he faced. The boy child might be pretty, but he wasn’t that intelligent.
“These doctors are here for you,” Nero said, patting Sporus again.
“But I’m not ill.”
Helius coughed to hide a snort. Too good! Simply too good! When would the child finally comprehend what was happening?
Nero held the elbow of Sporus. Helius could not tell if Nero did it to guide the boy or because Nero needed support as he walked. The result, however, was the same. Nero and Sporus neared the doctors, with Helius a few discreet paces behind.
Nero curled his arm around Sporus’s waist and stopped in front of them.
“Isn’t Sporus beautiful?” Nero asked the doctors.
Each nodded. If they felt distaste at the sight of a man sweating from alcohol pawing at a beautiful boy, they did a good job of hiding it. Of course, their lives depended on keeping Nero happy.
Nero patted Sporus on the cheek. “Remember,” he said, “you are doing this for me.”
“You haven’t told me what it is. You told me this was a surprise. What is it?”
“We’re getting married,” Nero said. “You will be a goddess.”
“Goddess?” Sporus echoed.
Helius was in near ecstasy. He’d told Nero he would supervise the doctors, but that was only an excuse. The moment he’d been waiting for was so near, the delicious moment of comprehension and horror as Sporus realized the price he would pay to be Nero’s pet.
“I am a god,” Nero explained. “When you marry me, you will be a goddess. Worshiped by all of the empire, just as Poppaea was until . . .” Nero frowned, obviously realizing he should not complete the sentence.
But Helius would remember and whisper it later to Sporus. Just as Poppaea was . . . until Nero kicked her to death. Yes, Sporus, Nero kicked her to death. In the last stages of her pregnancy, kicked her to death in a drunken rage after losing too much money at the races.
Too delicious!
“I can’t become a goddess,” Sporus said. “I’m not a woman and—”
“Shhh,” Nero told him, placing a finger against the boy’s lips. “That’s why we have the best doctors in Rome.”
Sporus still didn’t understand.
Helius took the boy’s elbow and guided him away from Nero. “I’ll see that it is done properly,” he promised Nero.
Nero waved at them both and then retraced his steps out of the courtyard.
“Do you have rope?” Helius asked the doctors.
“Rope?” the first one, a gray-haired man with a stoop in his shoulders, said.
“He’s young and strong and will undoubtedly resist,” Helius said. “I expect it will be best if we tie his arms and legs to immovable posts.”
“Helius?” There was obvious fear in the boy’s voice. “What did Nero mean? Why did he leave?”
Helius stroked the boy’s face and watched his eyes closely, knowing his words would land like a blow. “He left because he loves you too much to watch. And he means that you are about to be castrated.”
“I’m going to tell you my name,” the ship’s captain told Vitas. “But I don’t want to know yours. You’re enough danger to me as it is.”
Vitas had no intention of giving his identity anyway. If Nero knew he was alive, Sophia would die.
“I’m Atronius Pavo,” the ship’s captain continued. “And you should know that on this ship’s previous voyage, I drowned a Jew in pig’s blood.”
Each of the two sat on a short, three-legged stool in the captain’s quarters. It was a square room centered beneath the deck, a location that gave it the best stability on the ship. There was a straw bed raised above the floor at the
Helius knew well the tone of Nero’s voice. It was exuberant anticipation, dulled by wine. He was always like this before any event that would indulge an outrageous whim.
“Doctors?” Sporus said. “You mean there is something to fear? You wouldn’t say that unless—” He gasped. “Are you ill?”
Helius choked back a laugh. This was wonderful! Almost worth all the worries he faced. The boy child might be pretty, but he wasn’t that intelligent.
“These doctors are here for you,” Nero said, patting Sporus again.
“But I’m not ill.”
Helius coughed to hide a snort. Too good! Simply too good! When would the child finally comprehend what was happening?
Nero held the elbow of Sporus. Helius could not tell if Nero did it to guide the boy or because Nero needed support as he walked. The result, however, was the same. Nero and Sporus neared the doctors, with Helius a few discreet paces behind.
Nero curled his arm around Sporus’s waist and stopped in front of them.
“Isn’t Sporus beautiful?” Nero asked the doctors.
Each nodded. If they felt distaste at the sight of a man sweating from alcohol pawing at a beautiful boy, they did a good job of hiding it. Of course, their lives depended on keeping Nero happy.
Nero patted Sporus on the cheek. “Remember,” he said, “you are doing this for me.”
“You haven’t told me what it is. You told me this was a surprise. What is it?”
“We’re getting married,” Nero said. “You will be a goddess.”
“Goddess?” Sporus echoed.
Helius was in near ecstasy. He’d told Nero he would supervise the doctors, but that was only an excuse. The moment he’d been waiting for was so near, the delicious moment of comprehension and horror as Sporus realized the price he would pay to be Nero’s pet.
“I am a god,” Nero explained. “When you marry me, you will be a goddess. Worshiped by all of the empire, just as Poppaea was until . . .” Nero frowned, obviously realizing he should not complete the sentence.
But Helius would remember and whisper it later to Sporus. Just as Poppaea was . . . until Nero kicked her to death. Yes, Sporus, Nero kicked her to death. In the last stages of her pregnancy, kicked her to death in a drunken rage after losing too much money at the races.
Too delicious!
“I can’t become a goddess,” Sporus said. “I’m not a woman and—”
“Shhh,” Nero told him, placing a finger against the boy’s lips. “That’s why we have the best doctors in Rome.”
Sporus still didn’t understand.
Helius took the boy’s elbow and guided him away from Nero. “I’ll see that it is done properly,” he promised Nero.
Nero waved at them both and then retraced his steps out of the courtyard.
“Do you have rope?” Helius asked the doctors.
“Rope?” the first one, a gray-haired man with a stoop in his shoulders, said.
“He’s young and strong and will undoubtedly resist,” Helius said. “I expect it will be best if we tie his arms and legs to immovable posts.”
“Helius?” There was obvious fear in the boy’s voice. “What did Nero mean? Why did he leave?”
Helius stroked the boy’s face and watched his eyes closely, knowing his words would land like a blow. “He left because he loves you too much to watch. And he means that you are about to be castrated.”
“I’m going to tell you my name,” the ship’s captain told Vitas. “But I don’t want to know yours. You’re enough danger to me as it is.”
Vitas had no intention of giving his identity anyway. If Nero knew he was alive, Sophia would die.
“I’m Atronius Pavo,” the ship’s captain continued. “And you should know that on this ship’s previous voyage, I drowned a Jew in pig’s blood.”
Each of the two sat on a short, three-legged stool in the captain’s quarters. It was a square room centered beneath the deck, a location that gave it the best stability on the ship. There was a straw bed raised above the floor at the
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