Of course he needed money. The informers were there and he got it,
and with it that spectacle of torture and of blood which he needed
too. Curiously, his melancholy increased; his good looks had gone;
Psyche was no longer amorous of his eyes. Something else haunted
him, something he could not define; the past, perhaps, perhaps the
future. To his ears came strange sounds, the murmur of his own
name, and suddenly silence. Then, too, there always seemed to be
something behind him; something that when he turned disappeared.
The room in which he slept he had covered with a polished metal
that reflected everything, yet still the intangible was there.
Once Pallas came in her chariot, waved him farewell, and
disappeared, borne by black horses across the black night.
The astrologers consulted had nothing pleasant to say. They knew,
as Domitian knew, that the end was near. So was theirs. To one of
them, who predicted his immediate death, he inquired, "What will
your end be?" "I," answered the astrologer--"I shall be torn by
dogs." "To the stake with him!" cried Domitian; "let him be burned
alive!" Suetonius says that a storm put out the flames, and dogs
devoured the corpse. Another astrologer predicted that Domitian
would die before noon on the morrow. In order to convince him of
his error, Domitian ordered him to be executed the subsequent
night. Before noon on the morrow Domitian was dead.
Pages:
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89