“Serious as it is in general,” he went on, “it is still more serious in particular. Your excursion to Aricia was by no means as much a secret as you have all along supposed. I, for instance, knew of it before you confessed it to me.”
“How was that?” Brinnaria inquired.
“Numisia,” he explained, “saw you go out in Flexinna’s clothes and recognized you. She entered your room and talked with Flexinna. She summoned me and we conferred. We both loved you and we both believed in you. We were solicitous for the cult, but we were nearly as much solicitous for you. We agreed that we were almost fully warranted in assuming your entire innocence of heart and that your impulsive behavior would not alienate the good will of the Goddess. We decided to take it upon ourselves to judge you blameless and to shield you. Utta was instructed never to let you know that Numisia had seen Flexinna; Flexinna, of course, fell in with our plans. Numisia made every arrangement that would prevent any more from learning the secret and would make your return easy.
“After you came back safe our decision seemed justified. I talked with Vocco and learned that nothing had occurred to render your exposure likely, except your encounter with Calvaster. As we heard nothing from Calvaster we felt entirely successful. It turns out that he was only biding his time. He has formally accused you before the College of Pontiffs, alleging in general your long-continued familiarity with Vocco, and, in particular, your having been outside of Rome after midnight in Vocco’s company.”
“Whew,” Brinnaria exclaimed, “this is indeed serious! I feel myself strangling or starving in a vaulted cell. What am I to do?”
“See Commodus first of all,” said Lutorius.
In the short interval since her former audience, those traits of which he had previously shown the merest traces had rapidly developed in Commodus into fixed characteristics. He had become what he remained until his end, an odd mingling of loutish, peevish school-boy, easy-going, self-indulgent athlete and superstitious, suspicious despot.
“To begin with,” he said, “I want you to understand that I like you, that I haven’t forgotten that you rescued the retiarius, whopped Bambilio and behaved like a trump when Father tested you. I’m for you. Your colts are the cream of Italian stud-farms. You are a wonderful woman, all round. But, as a Vestal, you have your weak points. I remember Father’s instructions about you and I have all that in mind. Besides, I know that I, as Chief Pontiff, have the right to make my own decision about any such matter and to brush aside anybody else’s opinion and anybody else’s interpretation of the evidence. Also my impulse is to make use of my prerogative, dismiss the accusation against you, reiterate Father’s warning to Calvaster and get the whole thing off my mind. I don’t like Calvaster and I don’t value him an atom. They say he’s indispensable, but if he irritates me ever so little more I’ll dispense with him and I’ll wager the Republic will get on without him. You see that I am strong on your side and almost on the point of deciding in your favor.
“But I hesitate. This case of yours worries me more than anything that has come up since I took over the Principiate. I cannot make up my mind.
“I’m not the man I was a year ago. I’m shaken. Father told me that the most wearing feature of his being Emperor was his recurring escapes from assassination. I had my first escape just after your audience with me. It jarred me horribly. The fool barely missed finishing me. The experience made me take precautions and so no other miscreant has come so near to doing for me. But the repetitions have grown monotonous. I always thought highly of your lad, and I’ve often wondered how he managed to get any sleep or swallow any food while he was King of the Grove, but I think immeasurably more of him since I’ve been through something faintly similar. He deserves the best of life and I hope he’ll get his heart’s desire and marry you at the end of your service.