And now, through the gateway came a covered hearse, and at each corner walked a youth in mourning garb, one bearing a lamp and oil, another milk in a brass vessel, a third water, and a fourth bread. Now, and now only, with a shudder of horror, did Domitia suspect what was about to take place. She saw how that as the crowd deployed, it thickened about one portion of the bank of the ditch, and she saw also the battlements above crowded with the faces of men and women leaning over to look down into the dyke. And there, at one spot in the fosse stood three men. Instinctively Domitia knew who they were—the executioner and his assistants.
But who was to be put to death—and on what charge, and by what means?
Now the hearse was slowly brought to the edge of the moat and the curtains were raised.
Then Domitia saw how that within, prostrate, lay a woman, bound hand and foot to the posts by leather straps, with her face covered, and her mouth muffled that her cries might not be heard.
She saw the attendants of the priests untie the thongs and the unfortunate woman was raised to a sitting posture, yet still her face was veiled, and her hands were held by servants of the pontiff. Now one by one the attendants descended into the moat bearing the lamp and the bread and milk, and each handed what he had borne in the procession to the executioner, who gave each article as received to one of his deputies; and the man immediately disappeared with it.
Domitia’s heart beat furiously, she put forth her head to look, and discovered a hole at the base of the wall, and through this hole she discerned the twinkling light of the lamp as it passed within, then it was lost. The bread followed, the milk and the water, all conveyed into some underground cellar.
And now the chief pontiff present plucked the veil from the face of the victim, and with a gasp—she could not cry out, the power was taken from her—the Empress recognized Cornelia.
She made an effort to escape from her litter, and fly to her friend with outstretched arms, but Eboracus, who with white face had returned, caught and restrained her.
“Madam,” he said in a low tone, vibrating with emotion, “I pray you, for the sake of the Gods—do nothing rash. Stay where you are. No power—not that of the Sacred Twelve can save her.”
“Ye Gods! But what has she done?”