Marcia's laugh interrupted him. It was soft, melodious, like wavelets on a calm sea, hinting unseen reefs.
"Time," she said, "Is all that death needs! Death does not wait on oaths; it comes to us. I wish to know just how far I can trust you, Livius."
Nine Roman nobles out of ten in Livius' position would have recognized at once the deadliness of the alternatives she offered and, preserving something of the shreds of pride, would have accepted suicide as preferable. Livius had no such stamina. He seized the other horn of the dilemma.
"I perceive Pertinax has betrayed me," he sneered, looking sharply at Cornificia; but she was watching Marcia and did not seem conscious of his glance. "If Pertinax has broken his oath, mine no longer binds me. This is the fact then: I discovered how he helped Sextus, son of Maximus, to avoid execution by a ruse, making believe to be killed. Pertinax was also privy to the execution of an unknown thief in place of Norbanus, a friend of Sextus, also implicated in conspiracy. Pertinax has been secretly negotiating with Sextus ever since. Sextus now calls himself Maternus and is notorious as a highwayman."
"What else do you know about Maternus?" Marcia inquired. There was a trace at last of sharpness in her voice. A hint conveyed itself that she could summon the praetorians if he did not answer swiftly.
"He plots against Caesar."
"You know too little or too much!" said Marcia. "What else?"
He closed his lips tight. "I know nothing else."
"Have you had any dealings with Sextus?"
"Never."