“I like not thy Gannon,” she said, frowning. “He is impertinent. He angered me this morning. I wrote the letter hastily, but I am sure I did not forget the seal.”
“Have I been so mistaken in the boy?” questioned Sejanus. “He told me he did not read the reply.”
“Hast thou such faith in him?” she asked. Then in a warning tone she said: “Beware, O Sejanus! Trust him not. But go! Send Lygdus to-morrow morning! Come to me after the dinner to-morrow night!”
The shameless lovers then embraced and separated.
Sejanus, with his few followers, had hardly left the entrance to the palace, when Drusus, highly indignant, arrived there with a crowd of clients, freedmen, and slaves. The cause of his indignation was that the guards had refused to obey an order which he had given them, basing their refusal upon the ground of a contrary order from Sejanus. This exhibition of effrontery was very humiliating to Drusus, especially since it had taken place before his followers. But such clashing of authority had become of frequent occurrence of late. These daily conflicts kept the jealous Drusus continually in a state of ill-humor. He dismissed his friends and walked up the path that led to the palace, cursing the author of his troubles.
Drusus had inherited the vices of his father, Tiberius, and none of the virtues of his mother, Vipsania. He had a bloated, sullen face, with a large Roman nose and bloodshot eyes, overshadowed by a brow that always frowned. His mouth was large, with thick, voluptuous lips. He looked upon life gloomily, and seldom found anything worth a smile. His drinking was excessive, his behavior dissolute. His impressionable nature bore the imprints of his wicked associates, who, believing that he was to be their next emperor, pandered to all his vicious passions.
But he had not always been sullen and profligate. His star of good fortune once shone brightly. He had successfully waged war against the Illyrians and Pannonians. However, on his return to Rome after his brilliant campaigns, although he was the son of an emperor, he had little authority. The empty, high-sounding titles bestowed upon him by his father humiliated more than they elated him. He was disappointed, enraged, to see favors, wealth, and honors showered upon Sejanus and his friends, while he, the emperor’s son, and his retainers, received no substantial recognition. The insults he daily experienced, the opposition, and the ridicule,—all these things had so embittered his nature that he had become indifferent to everything except the gratification of his desires and pleasures.
The visits of Sejanus, and the knowledge that letters passed between his wife and Sejanus, excited him to violent anger. He doubted Livilla’s fidelity, but sufficient proofs of her wrongdoing were lacking. Being informed by a servant that Sejanus had just left the palace, he broke into a towering passion and sent for Livilla.
“Sejanus has been here again!” he bellowed, when she appeared.
“He has, my lord,” she replied. “On his way to the Palatine Hill he called to pay his respects.”