“Why camest thou hither?” asked the prince roughly. “I shall have enough to say to thee on the morrow because of thy embezzlements.”
“Augustus! I am innocent.”
“A thief, a vile purloiner, a blood-sucking leech, that has fattened as do all thy kind on thy masters. Go thy way—I want thee not here.”
And striding towards him, with Corbulo’s scabbard he struck the freedman across the face.
Stephanus uttered a cry of rage and pain, and instantly smote at the Emperor with a dagger he had held concealed in his sleeve.
“What, hound! You dare! You shall be flayed alive! Ho! to my aid!”
Stephanus threw himself on the Emperor.
Then Domitia stepped between the struggling men and the doorway, and with one hand drew together the curtains so as to muffle the cries.
“To my aid! to my aid!” called Domitian, as the powerful steward grappled him, and struck his dagger into the thigh of the prince.
“To my aid! Ho, a sword!” shouted the Emperor, and he grasped the weapon of the steward but so that, holding the blade with his hand, the weapon cut it across and the blood streamed forth.