Nero rose in a towering passion. ‘I came to inquire about your illness. You meet me with scowls and ingratitude,’ he said, flinging away the hand of Britannicus. ‘If you do not choose to behave as a brother, I will make you feel that you are a subject. Octavia and Titus, you may retire.’
‘Oh, do not leave me alone. I am very ill,’ pleaded the poor prince. ‘Indeed, indeed I cannot be left alone.’
The terrible thought which had flashed through the mind of Nero—the thought that, if left alone, the boy might be killed that night—had woke its reflection in the mind of Britannicus. But Nero strode angrily out of the room, and neither repeated nor withdrew his command.
‘May the spirits of all the good protect thee!’ said Octavia, as she fondly kissed her brother. ‘I dare not stay; it might be the worse for thee if I did.’
‘But I will stay, Empress,’ said Titus, ‘and I will do my best for him.’
When the young Empress had withdrawn, Titus beckoned to her faithful freedwoman Pythias, and told her to send for Onesimus. He came, and Titus, after slipping into his hand an aureus, which the Empress had left for him as a reward for his faithful warning, begged him to be on the alert, and to return in an hour. The Phrygian went to Acte, and told her all that had occurred. She kept him near at hand, and in a short time informed him that two of Nero’s worst creatures —Tigellinus and Doryphorus—were closeted with the Emperor, and that there was too much reason to fear that some deadly measure would be attempted that evening.
Such was indeed the case. For now, to the joy of Tigellinus, Nero had openly declared that Britannicus must be swept out of his path; had even admitted to him that poison had been attempted, and had failed.
‘How soon do you wish the deed to be done?’ asked the wicked adventurer.
‘If we are to prevent some accursed plot,’ said Nero, ‘it cannot be too soon.’
‘To-night?’