“Romans!” Clodianus went on. “Never fear, that the handful of mercenaries, who defend the Palatium, can imperil our work this day. The legions of the Propraetor of Lugdunensis are already on their way hither, by forced marches from Clusium. Before the sun has twice set, they will be before the walls of Rome. Go and tell all your friends, who still hesitate, that he himself will march in with the Propraetor; Nerva, the choice of the people, the divine Emperor.”
“Long live Nerva! long live Clodianus!” shouted a hundred voices at once.
It was with great difficulty, that Aurelius could make a way for the released couple through the dense throng.
“Where are we going?” asked Quintus, who had scarcely been able to speak a word.
“To your father’s house.”
“Miserable man!” groaned Quintus, bending his face on to his friend’s shoulder. “What must he not have suffered?”
And thus they made their way slowly, like a funeral procession, to the house of Titus Claudius.
In the Palatium too there was stir and turmoil—torches, the clatter of arms and confused shouts. At the receipt of the news of the blockade, Domitian had almost lost his wits. He sobbed like a woman; he started from his bed shrieking and lamenting, and rushed wildly up and down his room, his teeth chattering with terror. When he learnt, that the cohorts which were on guard in the palace had remained faithful, and would resist every encroachment to the death, he recovered himself a little, and called his palace officials together for a sort of council of war. For an hour at least he listened to their opinions, but rejected almost everything that was proposed, as impracticable or useless, and at last, in great wrath, dissolved the sitting. Then he himself went the rounds of all the posts, and condescended so far as to overwhelm, not the centurions only, but even the private soldiers with flattering appeals, and to implore their steadfast adherence; besides this, he distributed gifts of money.
But, in spite of all this, he fancied that the demeanor of the guards was less respectful than of yore, and this suspicion filled his mind with bitterness and alarm; he swore to himself, that when once the rebellion was quelled some, who had especially roused his ire, should be made an example of. He was still ignorant, that the larger half of the Praetorian guard had gone over to the enemy. Besides, he was expecting the Propraetor of Gallia Lugdunensis who, alone, would be strong enough to turn the balance, and who would no doubt hurry on to Rome with double speed, when the news of the events in the capital should meet him. In his utter bewilderment it did not occur to Caesar, that it was Clodianus who had been in treaty with the Propraetor, and that Clodianus was at the head of the revolution.
When noon had come and passed, and still the Praetorians had not raised the siege by expelling the forces under Clodianus, Domitian once more lost all self-control. He rushed from room to room in utter despair, now breaking out into abuse of Clodianus and Parthenius, both of whom he had raised to rank and power; now tearing his hair, now trying to extract some comfort from those about him—particularly from his favorite Jewish slave Phaeton, whom he commanded to sing and talk to him and scare away anxious fears.