‘Britannicus is such a strong, healthy boy, that the task is less easy. But Cæsar shall have his wish. I have a poison here which will do the work.’
‘Try it, then, on some animal,’ he said.
‘I dare say the tribune could procure me a kid,’ said Locusta.
A slave was despatched to find a kid, and when the bounding, playful creature was brought Locusta dropped some of the poison on a piece of bread dipped in milk.
The kid ate the bread and milk, and frisked no more but lay down and curled up its limbs, which quivered with convulsive twitchings.
‘Leave the poison to work,’ she said, ‘and if Cæsar will summon me an hour hence the kid will be dead.’
An hour later she was summoned. The kid lay on the ground, feeble and with glazing eyes; but it was not dead, and Nero was in the worst of humours. He pointed to the little creature and said—
‘Woman, you are trifling with me! Add henbane, or hemlock, or any other infernal thing you like, to your accursed poison. It must be made stronger.’
Locusta dropped other ingredients into the phial, and another animal was sent for. The slave brought a little pig. Some of the poison was sprinkled on a leaf of lettuce. The creature ate it, and in a few moments died in spasms.
‘That will do,’ said Nero, flinging to the woman a purse of gold. ‘If all goes as I desire, you shall have ample recompense. But breathe one syllable about this matter, and you shall die under the scourge.’