At the end of a deep, dark passageway between high walls Lutorius, with some of the Emperor’s aides, was waiting for them at a small door. He guided them to where they were eagerly expected. As they threaded the corridors, they heard, at first far off, then closer and closer, the sound of a child wailing, bawling, blubbering. Even in the Palace, Campia was an irrepressible cry-baby.
In the chapel of the Statue of Victory they found the Vestals, the Empress and the Emperor.
“I’ve got it safe,” Brinnaria proclaimed.
“I’m a frightful-looking bride,” she added, “wet as a drowned pup, scorched all over, all my hair burnt off; I must look a guy.”
“Never mind that,” said Commodus; “you can’t get home to-night, the conflagration is still spreading. I doubt if the firemen can save the Colosseum. It would take you till daylight to work your way round the districts which are in confusion. You’ll sleep here. I’ve had Trajan’s own private suite made ready for you two, as soon as the first messenger told me of your gallantry. You’ll find an army of maids and such waiting for you. Go make yourselves comfortable.
“The bedroom of Rome’s greatest Emperor is none too good for you. Nothing is too good for you, Brinnaria.
“You’ve saved the Palladium, and me, and the Empire and the Republic and Rome.”