"We can only take our chance. I think we shall be permitted to go out. I had intended to ride out of the city this evening if nothing hindered and the final vote had been passed. But now I see that cannot be done. You have wit and cunning, Agias. Scheme, provide. We must escape from Rome at the earliest moment consistent with our duty and honour."
"I have it," said Agias, his face lighting up. "Come at once after leaving the Curia, to the rear of the Temple of Mars.[144] I know one or two of the temple servants, and they will give me the use of their rooms. There I will have ready some slave dresses for a disguise, and just across the Æmilian bridge I will have some fast horses waiting—that is, if you can give me an order on your stables."
Drusus took off his signet ring.
"Show that to Pausanias. He will honour every request you make, be it for a million sesterces."
Agias bowed and was off. For the last time Drusus was tempted to call him back and say that the flight would begin at once. But the nimble Greek was already out of sight, and heroism became a necessity. Drusus resolutely turned his steps toward the senate-house. Not having been able to forecast the immediate moves of the enemy, he had not arranged for hurried flight; it was to be regretted, although he had known that on that day the end of the crisis would come. He soon met Antonius, and imparted to him what he had just learned from Agias, and the precautions taken.
Antonius shook his head, and remarked:—
"You ought not to go with me. Little enough can we who are tribunes do; you have neither voice nor vote, and Lentulus is your personal foe. So back, before it is too late. Let us shift for ourselves."
Drusus replied never a word, but simply took the tribune's arm and walked the faster toward the Curia.
"I am a very young soldier," he said presently; "do not be angry if I wish to show that I am not afraid of the whizzing arrows."
"Then, my friend, whatever befalls, so long as life is in my body, remember you have a brother in Marcus Antonius."