Nero's Heirs by Allan Massie Read Free Book Online Page B

persuade him to kill himself. Anyone must prefer an honourable death at his own hand to such ignominy.'
    (How young I was, how naive. I know now that there are those who will endure anything, any humiliation, any pain, rather than surrender life. Sometimes I even admire such fortitude.)
    'They say he fainted when he heard of Galba's revolt,' Domitian said.
    They say all sorts of things,' I replied. 'This afternoon at the baths, I was told first that Nero intended to invite all the members of the Senate to a banquet, and then poison them; second, that he was going to set the city on fire again, but only after letting wild beasts - lions, tigers, and so forth - loose in the streets to hinder the fire-fighters; and third, that he was going to buy off the Gallic legions by giving them permission to sack any city they chose. It's all rot, even though Nero is such a liar and fantasist. He won't do any thing like that. People also say he's paralysed with terror.'
    'I heard something else,' Domitian said, 'that he was intending to go to Gaul and confront the rebel legions. Only, instead of haranguing them in a manner worthy of his ancestors, he would fall on his knees before them and weep and weep. This, he says, would soften their hearts. They would be so moved to find their Emperor throwing himself on their mercy, that they would take him to their hearts. How contemptible can you get? Actually, I don't suppose they'd react like that at all. I imagine some centurion would step up and cut his throat, stick him in the gizzard.'
    'I don't know,' I said. 'Soldiers can be very sentimental, I'm told. That might be the only thing that could save him, and he's such an actor he might even pull it off. But I can't suppose he would have any chance of getting to Gaul.'
    'Poor Nero,' Domatilla said again. 'I do feel sorry for him. I know he's done terrible things, but all the same ... I hate to see people humiliated.'
    I think it was that night that, walking through the city, I came on one of Nero's statues, with a note attached to it, written in Greek: 'This time it's a real contest, Nero, and one you can't fix but are going to lose.'
    Nobody knew what was happening. Some Senators began to regret their rashness when it was reported that Nero was calling on the common people to rise and arm themselves in his defence. Then, at the baths, one of my admirers - but I forget which - assured me that this was nonsense or, if it wasn't nonsense, the next best thing, since no recruits had presented themselves. 'Die for Nero? Not bloody likely. That's the popular opinion,' he said. 'Actually, I do know that Nero was preparing yesterday to go to Gaul, but his first concern was to find wagons to carry his stage-equipment, and then to arrange for his concubines to have their hair cut in a boyish style and be issued with shields and weapons such as the Amazons used. The man has taken leave of what senses he still retained. He's living in a dream world.' No doubt, I thought, but it may still turn to nightmare for the rest of us; and I hurried home to make sure that all was well there and my mother safe. I had already begged her not to leave the house till things were more settled. Though I couldn't imagine that anyone would harm her of choice, accidents will happen, especially when someone like Nero is at his wits' end, and the mob is excited beyond measure - as it might be at any moment.
    Was it that evening or one a few days later that, shortly after I had retired to bed, where I lay sleepless, listening to the ever-changing sounds of the night city that refused to surrender to silence, I heard a scratching at the outer door of our apartment? It was a gentle noise, calculated, as I supposed, to alarm nobody. Yet its persistence suggested anxiety, even fear. I rose, put on a dressing-gown and, picking up the cudgel which we kept in a stand by the door, listened to the renewed scratching.
    'Please help,' came a thin high voice. 'Please let me in.'
    I did not