But not without the deep indelible traces of the long conflict appearing externally. His tall form had contracted a stoop, and was shrunk almost to emaciation. His head was bald, except some thin locks which grew low down upon his neck. Thus far might honest age be accountable; but to see the offensive ulcerous eruptions stuck over with plaster, which blotched his pale face, was to awaken suspicion of polluted habits. Yet from the midst of this unattractive physiognomy there shone the undimmed brilliance of his large eyes. Their beauty had outlived the once acknowledged comeliness of his face, as well as the athletic proportions of his large frame. Somewhat heavy lidded and slow moving, their glance, nevertheless, when it became fixed, seemed to pierce the inward thoughts of him they rested upon. Their depths were as fathomless as the ocean, save when lit with a sudden magnetic flash of wrath, which his minions ever [pg 147]watched for in trembling. Nothing, throughout the wide empire, received such unwearying catlike watch and ward as these basilisk orbs which gathered more than they emitted.
In his manner, the Emperor was, by nature, silent and reserved, which increased for him a reputation for intractable pride and malignance. He was of the Claudian family, and were they not ever proud and insufferable? He spoke as little as possible, and his words were delivered slowly and deliberately, with an accompanying motion of his forefinger.
Such were the most particular personal characteristics of the tyrant who, for some occult reason, had foresworn the seat of his empire, and had secluded himself in a rocky islet. His energy and watchfulness were unabated in affairs private and public. His continued absence, taken in conjunction with the busy ambition of the Prefect, was fruitful of rumours in no way favourable to the supremacy of Caesar. But who could penetrate the matchless craft, the profound dissimulation which enshrouded the despot’s mind? Without some miracle of light, which might illumine, for one brief moment, the secret solitude of his brooding thoughts, it were idle to conjecture and speculate upon their tenor.
The Emperor held out the signet ring which Tigellinus had sent in as an intimation of his arrival. The owner rose and took it with humble obeisance. At a sign from the eloquent forefinger of Caesar, he went and unloosed the folds of a large curtain which he drew across the door, thereby effectually guarding against any chance of their voices travelling outside. This little task completed, he returned, and stood awaiting Caesar’s pleasure.
‘So, you have come—Priscus never bade me expect you,’ said Tiberius, speaking as if it needed an effort to find his voice.
‘I know not that, Caesar, but I sent him word as usual,’ replied Tigellinus, whose obsequious, not to say cringing, manner in the Imperial presence, bore a very striking contrast to his cool authoritative deportment elsewhere.
‘Well, it is no matter whether you did, or whether he forgot to tell me—when did you come?’ asked Tiberius.
‘Only this very night, illustrious, since sundown.’
‘Where did you land, and what have you come with? [pg 148]Use your tongue and spare mine, good Tigellinus,’ continued the Emperor, with the faintest wrinkle of his eyebrows.
‘Yes, I was about to!’ rejoined Tigellinus, brisking up at his master’s tone. ‘I have those with me that I have chosen with my best endeavours to be worthy of Caesar’s household. I landed at the same place as usual, not far from the Scopuli, and left my companions of the voyage on board the galley, while I came on hither to wait upon you, Caesar, without delay. Meanwhile I sent up to the villa Jovis, and, no doubt, the noble Priscus will see them removed and safely bestowed at once.’