The boy flew into the next room to fetch it, while Domitian and Stephanus struggled desperately. The Emperor tried to wrench the dagger from his foe, but only succeeded in clutching the blade and cutting his fingers to the bone. With a roar of pain, he tried to force out his adversary’s eyes, or to set his teeth in his throat. The slaves rushed in, but dared not interfere. They thought that Stephanus might be acting under the orders of Clodianus; Phaeton alone, who had found the sword, rushed boldly at the victorious assassin, and dealt him a deadly blow, at the very instant when Stephanus stabbed the Emperor to the heart.
“Phaeton!... too late[172]...!” cried Domitian as he fell. “You alone have been faithful....” A dark stream of blood gushed from his mouth, and Caesar, who for so many years had trampled the world underfoot, was dead.
Stephanus did not survive him many minutes. Phaeton’s stroke had split his skull.
Domitian’s death left the Praetorian guard no reason for resisting the revolution; as soon as the news was known, Clodianus sent an envoy to the Palatium, who came to an understanding with the tribunes and centurions, and they surrendered at once. The rest of the guard, outside the Palatium, then made no farther demur. Thus the victory of Marcus Cocceius Nerva was an accomplished fact, and, excepting for the two victims of the struggle within the palace, it had been a bloodless one.
Notwithstanding the lateness of the hour, Clodianus at once summoned the Senate to a sitting. The very men, who had hitherto grovelled in the dust before the despot, now vied with each other in their expressions of hatred and contempt for the dead.[173] After the election of Marcus Cocceius Nerva had been officially ratified, and proclaimed in high-sounding phrases to be the happiest event of the century, the assembly passed a resolution declaring Domitian to have been a foe and traitor to his country, and requiring the Roman people to deface and obliterate every memorial of a man accursed. The numerous statues of himself, that Domitian had erected, were to be thrown down from their pedestals, and his triumphal arches laid level with the ground.[174] Certain petty and undignified suggestions, which had for their object extended powers of denunciation[175] such as they had existed under Domitian, but with increased severity, and the impeachment of some men of the highest character—as for instance of Titus Claudius—as adherents of the late emperor, were promptly negatived at an unmistakable sign from Clodianus, who had been expressly informed by Caius Aurelius, that the new ruler would set his face most positively against all the base expedients of the old government. On the other hand, the Senate were given full powers to provide for the liberation of all prisoners of state, inclusive even of the Nazarenes,[176] since the decree relating to that Jewish sect was to be reconsidered immediately after the Emperor’s arrival. In this also Clodianus was acting under the direct guidance of Caius Aurelius, who, after returning from the house of Titus Claudius, never quitted his side.
So little were social peace and order disturbed by this revolution in the history of the world, that after midday the games and combats in the Flavian amphitheatre were proceeded with, though it is true they were attended by scarcely any but the lowest class, to whom it was a matter of indifference whether a god or a demon sat on the throne, so long as they had their largess of corn and their circus games. A few of them complained even that, by releasing the Nazarenes, the new Emperor had abridged the programme. But when at the close Clodianus indemnified each by a present in money, the last dissentient voices were silenced and “Long live Nerva!” rang loudly through the Amphitheatre, where two days since Domitian had been no less loudly greeted with shouts of “Ave Caesar!”
CHAPTER XXI.
“Titus Claudius is dying!” the slaves whispered to each other in the silent and deserted rooms, where notwithstanding the dignity and gravity of the master, so much gay laughter had once been heard, so much young life had once been busy and gay.
“He is dying!” Octavia sighed, as she gazed in despair on the pale, altered face lying on the pillow, bathed in cold sweat, and with eyes half closed.