"Domitian! Domitian!! Beware! beware!!"
A hushed terror pervaded the spectators. The cruel character of Domitian was well known. History records that he could spend whole days in killing flies with a bodkin; which gave occasion to the witty reply of Vibius Crispus, who, being asked, "Who is with the emperor?" said, "Not as much as a fly." It is well known that he had at times ordered the execution of his most intimate friends and most favored officers; nay, that he had left his banquet to witness the death-throes of those who had partaken it with him. Lately he had become more and more suspicious of everyone and everything. He had conceived a great jealousy of the family and descendants of David, one of whom he had heard was worshipped by his numerous family as Lord of lords and King of kings. So much did this fear influence him that he sent out orders to his civil and military officers in the East to have every descendant of David, every relative of the Redeemer, arrested and brought to Rome. In accordance with this order two grandsons of St. Jude, who were, according to Jewish custom, called "brothers," whereas they were in reality only cousins, of our Lord, were sent from Judea to Rome, and examined by the emperor. Having questioned them about their family and about the empire of their relative, who by his adherents was adored as God, he laid aside his fears of their rivalry for the throne and dismissed them ignominiously. [Footnote 118]
[Footnote 118: Eusebius, Hist. Eccles.]
They had told him they were only poor peasants living on the proceeds of a small farm near Jerusalem; and in proof they raised their hands and showed him the palms roughened and the nails dirty from toil. But though he had laid aside his fears of these friends of our Lord, he did not cease to dread the increasing number of true believers. Therefore, as if to be on an equal elevation, he had some time before the date of the incidents of our tale issued an edict by which he commanded all his subjects to address him as a god, and to offer divine worship to his statue! Many citizens who gave evidence of their appreciating the absurdity of this edict had been put to death under his own eyes.
We may imagine, then, the secret feelings of the guests after viewing the scene that had been presented on the stage. The pantomimic art, which in ancient Rome and Athens had reached a height of perfection and magnificence now unknown, had applied all its resources on the occasion to suit the imperial mood. During the recitation of the verses descriptive of his power over animate and inanimate nature—whether in air, in earth, or in the sea—he held his head and sceptre erect as if with the conscious dignity of the godhead. But when the allusion to an opponent, to "the crown of a crucified Jew," fell on his ears, his brow lowered, his face darkened and his eyes flamed. His excitement was increased by observing the impulsive movements of many present, especially of a young officer of the court who, as the same allusion was being made, laid his hand upon his sword and advanced a step to the stage, until drawn back by a lady of mild aspect and of retiring demeanor. The only person else besides the emperor who noticed the motions of the young officer was Aurelian, who had conceived a jealousy of him for some kind attentions paid to Flavia Domitilla. These attentions were easily accounted for; the officer, as was customary with young noblemen of wealth, had been out for some years in the suite of the proconsul of Judea, a relative of Flavia. This circumstance led to an acquaintance between them. But it was observed by every one except Aurelian that the young man studiously endeavored to avoid as much as politeness would allow the company of Flavia as well as of other ladies of the court. This was the more remarkable considering her youth, her beauty, and her connection with the imperial family.
The other guests were too engrossed with their fears to observe what had not escaped the jealous eyes of Domitian and Aurelian. After an interval or suspense, to enjoy the effects produced by fear upon the guests, Domitian ordered them to continue the banquet—that the scene they had witnessed was the work of the pantomimes. This allayed their anxiety; but there was no zest remaining for enjoyment. Each one saw his own likeness in his neighbor's pallid face long after the stage had vanished. As soon as the usual formulas were gone through, they quickly and quietly took leave at an earlier hour than usual on such occasions, and left the emperor seated amid his magnificence.
Aurelian, having with the other guests left the palace at so early an hour, was glad to have so much time for visiting the house of Sisinnius. He had not seen Flavia Domitilla for nearly a month. She had been unwell; and, as often as he called, she sent word that she was not able to leave her room. He had called each day, and each day received the same answer. He was all anxiety for her health; for, her ways so artless, and yet so artful, had woven round his heart a network of loving thoughts and wishes for her welfare. She had been betrothed to him by the emperor, her cousin, guardian, and adopted father; and had avowed her attachment for him, and proved it by the affectionate kindness of her manner. But latterly he thought she had begun to treat him with coolness and to avoid his society. Jealousy suggested that her previously avowed affection had been diverted into another channel, to a different object. Could it be that after all his efforts to secure her love, after all her professions, she had withdrawn her affections and bestowed them on that young officer? Such were the thoughts that held longest possession of Aurelian's mind as he bent his steps toward the house of Sisinnius.
As soon as he touched the knocker, which was a ring grasped in a lion's mouth, the hall door was opened by Nereus, one of Flavia's most favored slaves. The little dog, the usual inmate of the Roman atrium, bounded in familiar gumbols about the purple band which bound the lower edge of his senatorial toga.