nst
the praefect of Rome, or for his dastardly cringing before the power of
his people.

But the older men, those who had mayhap more than once witnessed street
rioting and the bloody reprisals that invariably followed open
rebellion--they counselled prudence, an acceptance of what had come
about, since the imperial decree had been fixed to the rostrum of the
great Augustus, promising pardon for all delinquencies.

And--what would you?--but was not the praefect of Rome dead? The
consul-major had stated it positively to all those who asked the
question of him, and he had it on the positive authority of Folces, the
praefect's most trusted slave. It was the consul-major who, preceded by
his lictors, had caused the imperial decree to be read out aloud to the
people of Rome from the topmost steps of the Temple of Mars, and it was
he who had then ordered the decree to be affixed to the wall of the
rostrum. The consul-major had received the precious parchment at the
hands of the special messenger sent by the Caesar himself: that messenger
was none other than Folces, and he had stated positively that the
praefect of Rome was dead.

It was useless to demand that a man be proclaimed to the principate if
that man be dead. True that some of the malcontents--those young men who
were hot-headed and whose raging tempers were not easily curbed--refused
to accept the news and loudly demanded the body of the hero so that
divine honours might be accorded to it, to the lifelong shame of the
Caesar who had so basely murdered him.

But the praetor urbanus had declared that the body of the praefect could
not be found, and the rumour had gained ground that it had been defiled
and thrown to the dogs. A sullen discontent reigned amongst the people
for this, and it could not be allayed by all the promises of pardon and
of rejoicings which the imperial proclamation decreed.

There had been some calls too for Dea Flavia. The Caesar had nominated
his successor to the imperium in the Circus the other day. If the
Augusta would but make her choice, the people would perhaps be ready to
accept her lord now as Consort Imperii, with the ultimate hope that a
just and brave man would succeed to the principate in due course.

But no sound had as yet come from the house of Dea Flavia, and the
people hung about the Forum in desultory groups, discussing the
situation. That the gods had intervened in the Caesar's favour no one
could reasonably doubt. Even