“We all know Pertinax,” said Sextus.  “He is diffident, that is all.  He is modest.  Once he has made his decision—­”

Galen interrupted him

“Then let us pray the gods to make the rest of us immodest!  The decision that he makes is this:  If Commodus has heard of the conspiracy; if Commodus intends to kill him, he will then allow somebody else to kill Commodus!  He will permit me, who am a killer only by professional mistake and not by intention, to be made to kill my former pupil with a poisoned drink!  You understand, not even then will Pertinax take resolution by the throat and do his own work.”

“So Pertinax shall drink this?”

“It is meant that Commodus shall drink it.  That is, unless Commodus emerges from his sulks too soon and butchers all of us—­as we deserve!”

“Have done with riddles, Galen!  How will that affect Pertinax, except to make him emperor?”

“Nothing will make him emperor unless he makes himself,” said Galen.  “You will know tonight.  We lack a hero, Sextus.  All conspirators resemble rats that gnaw and run, until one rat at last discovers himself Caesar of the herd by accident.  Caius Julius Caesar was a hero.  He was one mind bold and above and aloof.  He saw.  He considered.  He took.  His murderers were all conspirators, who ran like rats and turned on one another.  So are we!  Can you imagine Caius Julius Caesar threatening an old philosopher like me with death unless he mixed the poison for a woman to take to his enemy’s bedside?  Can you imagine the great Julius hesitating to destroy a friend or spare an enemy?”

“Do you mean, they strike tonight, and haven’t warned me?”

“I have warned you.”

“Marcia has been prepared these many days to kill me if I meant to strike,” said Sextus.  “I can understand that; it is no more than a woman’s method to protect her bully.  She accuses and defends him, fears and loves him, hates him and hates more the man who sets her free.  But Pertinax—­did he not bid you warn me?”

“No,” said Galen.  “Are you looking for nobility?  I tell you there is nothing noble in conspiracies.  Pertinax and Marcia have used you.  They will try to use me.  They will blame me.  They will certainly blame you.  I advise you to run to your friends in the Aventine Hills.  Thence hasten out of Italy.  If Pertinax should fail and Commodus survives this night—­”

“No, Galen.  He must not fail!  Rome needs Pertinax.  That poison—­ phaugh!  Is no sword left in Rome?  Has Pertinax no iron in him?  Better one of Marcia’s long pins than that unmanly stuff.  Where is Narcissus?”

“I don’t know,” said Galen.  “Narcissus is another who will do well to protect himself.  Commodus is well disposed toward him.  Commodus might send for him—­as he will surely send for me if belly-burning sets in.  He and I would make a good pair to be blamed for murdering an emperor.”