he drew his famous lucky dagger from its sheath and noticed that the battered weapon was much too blunt from sheer age. He gave it to his freedman Milichus to sharpen and told him with frighten-ingly confused words and large gestures to keep quiet about the matter, thus arousing Milichus’ suspicions.
Scevinus, against his usual habit, then ordered a festive meal for his entire household, during which he freed several of his slaves, weeping gently with artificial gaiety, and distributed gifts of money to the others. After the meal he broke down and in tears asked Milichus to prepare bandages and medicine to stem the flow of blood. This finally convinced Milichus that something evil was afoot. Perhaps he had already heard mention of the conspiracy, for who had not?
For safety’s sake he asked his wife’s advice. Like a sensible woman, she convinced him that the first to come to the mill is the first to have his corn ground. This was a matter of his own life. Several other freedmen and slaves had heard and seen the same as he had, so there was no point in keeping silent. Indeed, Milichus had every reason to hasten to be the first informer. At that moment it was not necessary to think of his conscience, his master’s life and his debt of gratitude for his freedom. The rich reward to come would gradually extinguish all such thoughts.
Milichus found it difficult to leave the house, for Scevinus could not go to sleep, however much he had drunk. Scevinus’ wife, Atria Gallia, famed for her beauty, divorces and frivolous life, and inflamed by the festive meal, also made demands on Milichus which Milichus’ wife was forced to overlook, and with which Scevinus for private reasons felt he could not interfere. I imagine that this was an important factor in the advice Milichus’ wife gave her husband. I have pointed this out to excuse her.
Not until dawn did Milichus have time to go to Servilius’ gardens with the dagger of Fortuna hidden under his cloak as material evidence. But the guards naturally did not even let this freed slave in and least of all were they going to allow him to meet Nero early in the morning before the feast of Ceres. At that moment Epaphroditus happened to arrive at the Palace with a couple of leopard cubs which he had orders to deliver to Nero in good time. Nero was to present them to Consul Vestinus’ wife, Statilia Messalina, to whom he happened to be paying court, so that during the races she would be able to parade these beautiful pets in the Consuls’ box. Epaphroditus noticed the argument at the gate and hurried over to calm the guards, who were beating Milichus with the shafts of their lances to make him be quiet, for when he had not been let in, Milichus had desperately begun to call to Nero at the top of his voice.
I wonder whether Fortuna has ever before or since shown me her face more clearly. I was allowed to see more clearly than ever that magnanimity and generosity can be rewarded in this life. Epaphroditus recognized Milichus as the freedman of Flavius Scevinus, who was a relative of his wife Sabina’s, and so he helped him. When Milichus had related his errand, Epaphroditus at once understood the significance of what he had heard. Remembering his debt of gratitude to me, he at once sent the slave who had been leading the leopards to tell me what was going on. After he had done that, he had Nero awakened and took the leopard cubs and Milichus straight to Nero’s enormous bed.
Epaphroditus’ slave woke me from my deepest sleep and his message soon brought me to my feet. I threw a cloak over myself, and unshaven and without food, ran back to Servilius’ gardens with him.
The running left me so out of breath that I firmly decided to take up physical cxcrcises at the stadium again and to begin to ride regularly, should my life by some lucky chance be spared. As I ran, I was also forced to evaluate the whole situation rapidly and think out which people it would be most advantageous for me to denounce.
When I arrived at the Palace, Nero was still in a bad temper over his sudden awakening, although he should have been up already because of the feast of Ceres. Yawning, he played with the leopard cubs in his great silken bed and in his vanity refused at first to believe the stammering freedman’s despairing explanations. Nevertheless he had had a message sent to Tigellinus asking to speak to Epicharis again, and the Praetorians were on their way to arrest Flavius Scevinus and bring him before Nero to explain his suspicious behavior. After chattering about the will and the bandages, Milichus remembered that his wife had exhorted him to tell of their master’s long conversation with Piso’s confidant, Natalis. But Nero waved his hand impatiently. “Natalis can come and explain the matter himself,” he said. “But I must start dressing soon for the Ceres feast.”
Despite his apparent indifference, he felt the tip of the bronze ver-digrised dagger with his thumb and probably experienced in his lively imagination what it would feel like to have it suddenly plunged into his muscular chest. So he was more benevolent toward me when I arrived, panting and wiping the sweat from my forehead, to explain that I had something so important to tell him that it could not brook a moment’s delay.
I swiftly told him of the conspirators’ plan to murder him and unhesitatingly named Piso and his collaborator Lateranus as the leaders. Nothing could save them any longer anyhow. All the time, I was standing as if on red hot ambers at the thought of what Epicharis would say to escape further torture, now that the conspiracy was exposed anyhow.
The leopard cubs gave me the fortunate idea of denouncing Consul Vestinus, with the thought of Nero’s interest in Vestinus’ wife in mind. Actually we had not bothered to take Vestinus into the conspiracy at all because of his republican views. At this Nero grew serious. That a serving Consul should be involved in a conspiracy and a murder plot was serious enough. He began to chew his lips and his chin began to tremble like a sorrowing child’s, so certain had he been of his popularity among the people.
On the whole I denounced members of the Senate from preference, for it was my filial duty to avenge my father’s fate since the Senate had unanimously, without even voting on it, condemned him to death, and as a result my own son Jucundus had also lost his life to the wild animals. Clearly I owed the senators nothing. And for my own plans it would be best that a few places in the Senate should be vacant.
After listing a few names, I made a swift decision and denounced Seneca as well. He himself had openly admitted that his life depended on Piso’s safety, so nothing could have saved him either. It was counted to my credit that I was the first to inform on such a powerful man. Naturally I did not mention my visit to Seneca’s house.
At first Nero seemed unwilling to believe me. Nevertheless he skillfully registered horror and astonishment at such cruel treachery on the part of his old tutor, who had only Nero to thank for his great wealth and his success in office. Seneca had left his position in the government of his own accord and thus had no reason to bear Nero a grudge. Nero even wept a few tears and flung the leopards to the floor as he despairingly asked why he was so hated despite doing everything he could for the people and the Senate of Rome, sacrificing his own comfort to carry the heavy burden of Imperial duties.
“Why didn’t they say something to me?” he complained. “I’ve said innumerable times that I should prefer to be relieved of power, since I can support myself as an artist anywhere in the world. Why do they hate me so?”
It would have been both pointless and dangerous to begin to explain to him. Fortunately Tigellinus and Flavius Scevinus arrived at that moment and it was announced that Epicharis was waiting in her sedan in the garden.
Nero thought it wisest to pretend at first to be ignorant of the true scope of the conspiracy. He wished to question Flavius Scevinus and Milichus in each other’s presence. He asked me to leave and I was glad to go, for in that way I was given an opportunity to warn Epicharis and agree on whom else to denounce. As I left, I noticed that Nero called in his German guards with a malicious glance at Tigellinus.
The memory of Sejanus’ conspiracy against Tiberius still remains and since then no Emperor has relied blindly on the Praetorian Prefect. So there are usually two of them, to keep an eye on each other. Nero had restored this security measure when he had recently appointed Fenius Rufus as Tigellinus’ colleague, but he had chosen the wrong person. However, I had no thought of denouncing Fenius Rufus, who was my friend. Indeed, I decided to do all I could to keep his name from being dragged in by mistake. I wanted to talk to Epicharis about this, too.
Her sedan was standing on the ground with the curtains carefully drawn and the slaves resting on the grass, but both the guards refused to let me see the prisoner. Nero’s new coins, however, served a purpose. The guards withdrew and I drew back the curtain.
“Epicharis,” I whispered. “I am your friend. I’ve something important to tell you.”
But Epicharis did not reply. Then I saw that during her journey she had loosened her bloodstained bandage, which some kindly guard had given her, tied a noose around her neck and fastened the other end to a crossbar on the sedan. Thus with the help of her own weight, and weakened by torture, she had managed to strangle herself, no doubt because she feared that she would be unable to endure yet another interrogation. When I had made certain she was dead, I cried out to the guards in surprise and showed them what had happened. Inwardly I praised
