Silently, the stars twinkled in the moonless night, forming the only sources of light in the eternal city. As their light began to fade, four young men left a seedy tavern in the Suburba and made their way home. Three of them talked wildly to each other and their low laughter filled the deserted streets. Only one was too lost in thought to feign interest in their conversation. For he was the only one who found it reprehensible to pay for a woman's body and even if he, like the others, did not want to miss his time with the prostitute, these new experiences already had a bitter taste for him. So, he struggled with himself and the world they were born into and completely blanked out his drunken friends. None of the young men noticed the figures following them at a safe distance.
On the Forum of Augustus, they turned into a side street and made their way to the Princeps' house via the smaller side streets. If they had simply followed the road, they could have taken the much shorter route via the Forum Romanum. But even if the stars had not yet completely disappeared and Aurora had not yet led the new day into the city of the seven hills, the major streets were full of people and carts. The risk of being discovered was much lower on the route they had chosen.
Being discovered was the last thing Britannicus wanted. He still had the smells of the girl in his nose and her taste was heavy on his tongue. Strangely, he felt somehow dirty and when the laughter of his friends did get through to him, he wondered what was wrong with him that he was not as exuberant as they were.
But again, and again he had to think of how lost she had looked when he had asked her to tell him more about herself after her instruction. She had seduced him and taught him how to behave with a woman. But every word she said and every move she made stirred doubts in him that were only partially eclipsed by his body's reaction.
As he came to his senses breathing heavily beside her, he simply could not imagine his father ever treating his mother in such a way. For even if father and mother always kept a certain distance from each other in public, Britannicus had been able to watch them often enough when they could just be themselves and not have to pretend anything to the people. Father respected Mother too much to be so rough and reckless with her in bed.
He had certainly enjoyed himself with this Greek girl who had so much liked to play the hetaera in front of him to cover up the fact that in Rome she was nothing more than a cheap whore in a dodgy brothel. But when he had kissed her or while he had let himself fall in her arms, he had felt nothing. He never wanted to experience anything like that again. His parents had been married for so many years now and their large number of children proved that they still shared the same bed after all these years. It just had to be different between his parents or they would never have stayed together. But what made the difference? What connected his parents so irrevocably? What had he overlooked?
"Are you still afraid of being caught by Mummy?" teased Lucius as they slipped into the secret passage. Britannicus just gave him a scowl and stomped past his cousin. Behind him he heard Titus accusing Lucius of being obsessed with Britannicus' mother. Britannicus ignored that too. Only when he pushed the tapestry aside did his friends fall silent.
When his gaze crossed Lucius', his cousin was not quick enough to hide his surprise from him. What had Lucius been expecting? That Britannicus did not know how to leave his own home? Well, Britannicus had never abused that knowledge for his own amusement.
Not until now, anyway, whispered a mocking voice in his head, and Britannicus started moving again. When he caught sight of the narrow strip of red on the horizon, a small sigh escaped his lips. It was his first sound since he had left the Greek girl's room. But the walk back had taken more time than he had thought and now he had two choices: sleep or train. He would not possibly be able to combine these two.
All at once he was infinitely tired and all he wanted was to finally get into his own bed. Without even glancing at his friends, Britannicus turned on his heel and marched to his room. As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, his mask and his tension fell away. Exhausted, he sank against the solid oak wood and closed his eyes. The quiet in his room could not silence his noisy thoughts. Frustrated, he ran a hand through his hair and froze. Someone was in his room.
Stiff with horror, he wrenched his eyes and open to meet his mother's cool gaze.
"Did you have a nice night?" she wanted to know quietly, and her biting sarcasm made him cringe in shock. There were deep shadows under her eyes, as if she hadn't slept through a single night in weeks. Worried, he blinked at her and only slowly did he realise it was his fault. She had only been waiting for him to fall right into Lucius' trap. To deny it was utterly pointless. For at that moment his father stepped silently beside her and folded his arms in front of his chest. Only now did he realise how severe the consequences of his actions would be. The look on his parents' faces spoke volumes.
"She was insightful," he replied thoughtfully, and his mother just shook her head. Before she could preach her sermon to him again about the importance of morally and ethically right behaviour in their position as the leading family, Britannicus lamely tried to defend himself, "Lucius meant that father had hundreds of women before you. Why may I not have the same experience? I have no intention of embarrassing myself in front of my bride on my wedding night just because you have not adequately prepared me for this moment!"
Suddenly the temperature in the room dropped. Stiff with horror, Mother stared at him as blood rushed to her cheeks. Blind fury sparkled in her eyes and for a heartbeat Britannicus was sure she would strike him. But Mother had other means of hurting him. For unlike Lucius and him, she knew the full truth.
"Did Lucius tell you that? God, how naïve are you! Your father had hundreds of women before me because it was the only way he could survive under Tiberius!" she hurled at him dryly and he staggered back in horror. In disbelief, he searched his father's eyes for any sign that mother's words were not true. But he found none. Perfectly calm, Father raised his hand and silence fell instantly. In a strangely monotone voice, Father took up Mother's narrative: "Your mother and I deliberately kept you in the dark about certain aspects of my past because we felt that you were still too young to know the whole truth. But perhaps this was a mistake. Yes, I slept with far too many women before I married your mother. But unlike you today, I had no choice then. By going to Capri, I gave myself over to Tiberius for better or worse. To him I was just another plaything, and because he hated my parents so much, I was a particularly exciting plaything, but I was worth no more than the whores who were summoned to his villa. One wrong word, one wrong gesture, one wrong facial expression would have meant my instant death. So, I complied, pretending he was doing me a favour with his disgusting fantasies. A few years ago, you once asked me why I didn't accompany you to the island when you visited my cousin Gemellus and his family there. The truth, my son, is that I did many things on that island of which I am not proud. Capri was the worst thing that ever happened to me, and I want.... I can never go back there. That island almost destroyed me. Tiberius taught me how he thought I should fuck. But through your mother I learned to love and believe me, without her I would have been dead many years ago."
With a sad smile on his lips, Father took hold of Mother's hand and Mother began to draw invisible patterns on the back of his hand. Countless times Britannicus had watched his parents make this small gesture in private.
To love, the words echoed inside him, and he convulsively tried to make a connection. Immediately his mind flitted to a variety of poems, from Sappho to Catullus to Horace to Ovid. But none of these poems even began to describe how his parents looked at each other, touched each other or spoke to each other. Was love more than an unfulfilled longing of Catullus or a devious courtship of Ovid? He did not know. But when he looked at his parents like this, he felt that love must be much more than the poets wanted him to believe with their verses. In any case, love was much more than he had experienced that night with the Greek girl. Would he one day understand how his parents felt about each other?
"Your mother and I have decided that it will be best if you stay away from Rome for a while and use the time wisely," father continued, snapping Britannicus out of his thoughts. He stared at his parents without understanding. Using his time wisely far from Rome? Why should they send him to Greece now, when they had fought all their lives to make Rome the only true centre of education? For he would hardly be able to make good use of his time on one of their country estates. Cicero had called this occupation with literature free time with dignity. But he could also learn and read in Rome.
"I have written to my cousin," Mother explained in a feeble voice, and for the first time her large blue eyes seemed strangely lost and uncertain. Britannicus still did not understand. With a sigh, she added, "It is time you truly served our country, Britannicus. You are seventeen and old enough to join the eagles. Your uncle Sabinus will need three new tribunes in three months' time, because they will have served their four years and can go home. Your father and I have been reluctant to fill these posts until now and now you will be one of them."
She nodded curtly in his father's direction, who pulled a thin scroll from a fold of his toga. Silently Britannicus accepted the document and unrolled it. It was his official marching orders. In three months, he had to report to his uncle Sabinus in the fortified camp of Novaesium. His heart skipped a beat as he read his rank. Tribune with broad stripes. Usually, such tribunes were a few years older than him because they carried greater responsibility than the tribunes with narrow stripes. However, the old patrician families like his own always provided the tribunes with wide stripes, while the narrow stripes were provided from the knighthood. For this reason, Britannicus had never expected to join the legion so soon. He felt as if all at once he was already feeling the gigantic weight of responsibility he would have to bear with dignity in a few weeks.
With trepidation, Britannicus swallowed his feelings and looked at his parents. Never would they put this burden on him unless they were sure he could handle it.
"I will make you proud," he promised, listening intently to Father's words as he explained the next steps.

When Britannicus stepped out of his room a moment later, Lucius leaned casually against the wall and grinned sardonically in his face. He immediately forgot that his parents were still in his room behind him. His whole mind was limited to his cousin.
"Well, has Mummy been lecturing you because her little golden boy has been naughty?" blasphemed Lucius' voice and anger clouded Britannicus' thinking. Too many times that night he had had to listen to his cousin cross that fine line between them by insulting his mother. What had Britannicus to lose now? His marching orders were official and soon he would no longer have to deal with Lucius' Janus-like visage.
In one leap Britannicus sprang forward and smashed his clenched fist into his cousin's face. Lucius had neither the time nor the training to fend off his attack, or at least to dodge it, and so Britannicus registered with great satisfaction how his cousin's nose broke instantly.
But as he was about to strike the next blow, a hand wrapped around his clenched fist and vehemently held him back. Caught off guard, he turned his head, expecting to look into his father's eyes. But instead, Mother's stern gaze bored into him. Instantly his anger fizzled, and shame flooded through him.
"You will apologise to him!" commanded Mother, her voice sharper than any sword. He blinked down at her in disbelief. Her hand still held his fist in check. Although he knew how hard she trained, her strength surprised him. Out of the corner of his eye, he registered Lucius slowly rising and trying to staunch the bleeding with the hem of his silken tunic.
"Gaius Julius Caesar Britannicus, you will not have the opportunity to see your cousin for a great many years," she continued coldly. "Apologise! Now."
Part of Britannicus wanted to contradict her, wanted to shout at her and explain why he had gone after Lucius. But he couldn't. Her eyes flashed at him the emotion he had never thought to read there once. But there was nothing but bottomless disappointment in her eyes. His heart burst into a thousand pieces.