‘He ought never to have been Emperor at all,’ she answered, vehemently. ‘That he is so is the merest accident. We owe no thanks to the Prætorian Gratus, who found him hidden behind a curtain on the day that my brother Gaius was murdered, and pulled him out by the legs: still less thanks to that supple intriguing Jew, Herod Agrippa, who persuaded the wavering senate to salute him Emperor. Why, all his life long he has been a mere joke. Augustus called him “a poor little wretch,” and as a boy he used to be beaten by a common groom.’
‘He has been a kind master,’ said the freedman once more; and as he spoke he sighed.
The Empress turned on him. ‘Will you dare to desert me?’ she said. ‘Do you not know that, at this moment, Narcissus has records and letters in his possession which would hand me over to the fate of Messalina, and you to the fate of the noble C. Silius?’
‘I desert you not,’ he answered, gloomily; ‘I have gone too far. But it is dangerous for us to remain alone any longer. I will retire.’
He bowed low and left the room, but before he went out he turned and said, very hesitatingly, ‘He is safe with you?’
‘Go!’ she answered, in a tone of command. ‘Agrippina does not use the dagger; and there are slaves and soldiers and freedmen at hand, who would come rushing in at the slightest sound.’
She was alone with Claudius, and seeing that it would be many hours before he woke from his heavy slumber, she gently drew from his finger the beryl, engraved with an eagle—the work of Myron—which he wore as his signet ring. Then she called for Acerronia, and, throwing over her face and figure a large veil, bade her show the ring to the centurion Pudens, and tell him to lead them towards the entrance of the Palace prisons, as there was one of the prisoners whom she would see.
Pudens received the order and felt no surprise. He who had anything to do with the Palace knew well that the air of it was tremulous with dark intrigues. He went before them to the outer door of the subterranean cells, and unlocked it. Even within the gate slaves were on guard; but, although no one recognised the veiled figure, a glance at the signet ring sufficed to make them unlock for her the cell in which Locusta was confined.
Agrippina entered alone. By a lamp of earthernware sat the woman who had played her part in so many crimes. She was imprisoned on the charge of having been concerned in various murders, but in those awful times she was too useful to be put to death. The phials and herbs which had been her stock-in-trade were left in her possession.
‘I need,’ said the Empress, in a tone of voice which she hardly took the trouble to disguise, ‘a particular kind of poison: not one to destroy life too suddenly; not one which will involve a lingering illness; but one which will first disturb the intellect, and so bring death at last.’