Now
go, and to-morrow we will take counsel. Oh! ye gods, why do you deal
so hardly with Domitian? My soul is bruised and must be comforted with
poesy. Rouse that Greek from his bed and send him to me. He shall read
to me of the wrath of Achilles when they robbed him of his Briseis, for
the hero's lot is mine."
So this new Achilles departed, now that his rage had left him, weeping
maudlin tears of disappointed passion, to comfort his "bruised soul"
with the immortal lines of Homer, for when he was not merely a brute
Domitian fancied himself a poet. It was perhaps as well for his peace
of mind that he could not see the face of Saturius, as the chamberlain
comforted his bruised shoulders with some serviceable ointment, or hear
the oath which that useful and industrious officer uttered as he sought
his rest, face downwards, since for many days thereafter he was unable
to lie upon his back. It was a very ugly oath, sworn by every god who
had an altar in Rome, with the divinities of the Jews and the Christians
thrown in, that in a day to come he would avenge Domitian's rods with
daggers. Had the prince been able to do so, there might have risen in
his mind some prescience of a certain scene, in which he must play a
part on a far-off but destined night.
Pages:
460
461
462
463
464
465
466
467
468
469
470
471
472
473
474
475
476
477
478
479
480
481
482
483
484