“Why should I have lived to see this day, O Hera?” he cried. “There has gone from my life a light that can never again shine upon my way. My hopes lie shattered there. O Zeus and ye eternal gods, send solace to a household burdened with so great a calamity!” he prayed.
Recovering his self-command, the stricken father tenderly removed Gannon’s tunic, and handing it to Hera, procured a basin of water and bathed Gannon’s body. Hera took the tunic, which she shook and folded. While they were thus employed, Alcmaeon was startled by hearing his wife call: “Come quickly, O husband! Here, inside Gannon’s tunic, is some writing!”
In an instant Alcmaeon was at his wife’s side, and read excitedly the words, “Have done wrong. Read a letter from L to S about Lygdus.” “Ah, said I not so, O wife?” he cried. “He learned a secret. Ah, the poor lad turned his thoughts to his family before he died. While we were singing hymns yester eve, he was in trouble. O my dear, dear son! Why did I ever take thee to the camp? O my son, my son!”
“But what means the ‘L to S’?” asked Hera, when Alcmaeon had again become quiet.
“I know not. The ‘S’ must mean Sejanus. But who is Lygdus?”
“Is not Lygdus the eunuch that Gannon disliked, O husband?” asked Hera.
“Ay, I remember,” said Alcmaeon, shaking his head. “But what means the ‘L’?”
“Gannon has mentioned no name that begins with an ‘L’ except that of Livilla,” said Hera.
“True, O Hera. ’Tis Livilla,” said Alcmaeon, as if convinced. “Ah, so Sejanus and Livilla are conspiring! But hold, wife! What is this that Gannon has done?” asked Alcmaeon, in a tone of fear.
“What dost thou mean, O Alcmaeon?” cried Hera.