sites. No outraged citizen had any hope of
redress so long as Marcia's ear could be reached (although Commodus got
the blame for it). It was the key to Marcia's system of insurance
against unforeseen contingencies. The only regularly drilled and armed
troops in the city were as loyal to her, secretly and openly, as Livius
himself was to the principle of cynical self-help.

He began to feel thoroughly frightened, as he told himself that the
escort and their decurion would swear to any statement Marcia might
make. If she had learned that he was in the habit of receiving secret
information from her slave, there were a thousand ways she might take to
avenge herself; a very simple way would be to charge him with improper
overtures and have him killed by the praetorians--a way that might
particularly interest her, since it would presumably increase her
reputation for constancy to Commodus.

The eunuchs watched him. The lictors and praetorians cleared the way,
so there were no convenient halts that could enable him to slip
unnoticed through the crowd. His own attendants seemed to have divined
that there was something ominous about the journey, and he was not the
kind of man whose servants are devotedly attached to him. He knew it.
He noticed sullenness already in the answers his servant gave him
through the litter curtains, when he asked whether the man knew their
destination.

"None knows. All I know is, we must follow Marcia."

The slave's voice was almost patronizing. Livius made up his mind, if
he should live the day out, to sell the rascal to some farmer who would
teach him with a whip what service meant. But he said nothing. He
preferred to spring surprises, only hoping he himself might not be
overwhelmed in one.

By the time they reached Cornificia's house he was in such a state of
nervousness, and so blanched, that he had to summon his servant into the
litter to rub cosmetic on his cheeks. He took one of Galen's famous
strychnine pills before he could prevent his limbs from trembling. Even
so, when he rolled out of the litter and advanced with his courtliest
bow to escort Marcia into the house, she recognized his fear and mocked
him:

"You are bilious? Or has some handsomer Adonis won your Venus from you?
Is it jealousy?"

He pretended that the litter-bearers needed whipping for having shaken
him. It made him more than ever ill at ease that she should mock him
before all the slaves who grouped