‘One of the most beautiful in Rome.’
Caesar’s pallid lips, for the first time, curved into a satirical smile.
‘You have made a mistake,’ he said; ‘the Prefect’s betrothed bride, the Lady Livia, would have been more grateful for your information than I am!’
‘I do beseech you, Caesar, remember, that solely in my zeal and duty to you I have revealed what I swore to keep entirely secret,’ uttered Tigellinus, perturbed in spirit by the Emperor’s answer. ‘The worshipful Sejanus may discover and visit his vengeance upon me!’
‘Be easy,’ said Tiberius, ‘as long as anything proves of use to me I suffer nothing to harm it. Who is this woman?’
‘Plautia, the sister of Apicius.’
‘Apicius the spendthrift fool of the Palatine who poisoned himself at supper?’
‘The same—all Rome talked of it.’
‘And this Plautia?—I know her not.’
‘She dwells nigh the Forum of Caesar—alone.’