‘If you do not fear any gods,’ she said, ‘you shall fear me. Britannicus has nearly arrived at the age of manhood. He is the son of Claudius; you are not. But for me he would have been Emperor; by my aid he may yet sit upon his father’s throne. Then once more Rome shall see a man ruling her, and not a singer and a dandy.’
Nero, filled with fury, clenched his fist, and strode forward as though he would strike her.
She sprang up with flashing eyes. ‘Would you dare to strike me?’ she shrieked. ‘By heavens, if you did, I would that moment stab you to the heart.’
At the word she drew from her robe a dagger which she always carried there, and raised it in her right hand, while her bosom heaved with passion.
Nero sprang back, but Agrippina, as though in the revulsion of disdain, dropped the dagger at her feet.
‘You would make a fine tragedian, mother,’ said Nero, with a bitter sneer.
The excess of Agrippina’s rage seemed to stifle her. ‘One hope, at least, the gods have left me,’ she gasped forth, as soon as she could find voice to speak. ‘Britannicus yet lives; I will take him with me to the Prætorian camp. I will see whether the soldiers will listen to the daughter of Germanicus, or to Burrus with his mutilated hand and Seneca with his professorial tongue.’
‘I am tired of all this,’ answered Nero. ‘Only remember that some day you may provoke me too far. There are such persons as informers; there is such a law as that of læsa majestas.’
He left her, as he almost always left her now, in angry displeasure, but he did not seriously fear her threats. He had been trained to think himself incomparably superior to Britannicus. Agrippina herself had encouraged the widespread scandal that it was one thing to be a son of Messalina, and quite another to be a son of Claudius. Besides, he traced no steady ambition in the boy. So long as he was left to amuse himself with Titus, he gave hardly any trouble, nor had he, so far as Nero knew, a single partisan who could for a moment withstand the combined authority and popularity of such men as Seneca and the Prætorian Præfect. Still he disliked being threatened so constantly with the claims of the son of Claudius. Tigellinus was always hissing his name in his ears, and Agrippina blazoning him as a resource wherewith to secure her vengeance. If Britannicus were not so insignificant, it might be well to put him out of the way.
A few days afterwards, when his face had nearly resumed its ordinary hue, he determined to celebrate the Saturnalia with a party mainly composed of youthful nobles.