“No doubt,” said Barbillus, thankful for this diversion. “A wound from so fair a hand....”
“Nay, nay—you do not understand. Did you hear of a scoundrelly astrologer, Ascletario, who paid for his audacity with his life two days since?”
“Yes, my lord; all the world has heard of it, and bewails it.”
“Nonsense!” laughed Caesar, in the gayest spirits. “Do not you see, that the prophecy is already fulfilled? Do not you perceive that henceforth I am safe? What were his words? That, ere long, my blood should be shed by violence, because the immortals were wroth at my love for a woman, who did not belong to me by any law, human or divine. Well—that blood has been shed.”[46] And he pointed with evident delight to his cheek.
“My lord, your wisdom is unequalled,” said the priest. “Certainly, by all the laws of astrology it is beyond a doubt—the prediction is fulfilled.”
Domitian grinned with contentment.
“So that, in fact, I owe a debt of gratitude to sweet Cornelia! By Zeus! I feel all my annoyance entirely vanishing and giving way to the tenderest regret. A girl like Aphrodite! And I, Caesar, the Lord of the universe, invite her, and she refuses to fling herself into my arms with rapture! It is preposterous! Ridiculous.... You must find means, crafty Barbillus, for you see”—and he laughed slyly—“the anger of the gods is brief.”
“My lord, but how am I to find means?” exclaimed Barbillus in despair. “Do you suppose, that Cornelia will ever set foot across this threshold again?”
“You do not understand. I want no repetition of this solemn farce. It is not as a priest, but as a man, that you must find tools for your cunning.”
Barbillus looked at the floor, musing.