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 this anything but respectable woman for her nobility. By committing suicide, she had saved herself from informing on her fellow criminals and had given me a free hand.
The guards were naturally frightened of being punished for dieir carelessness. But there was no time for such things. Nero had begun to act and did not want to be bothered with insignificant details. Epicharis’ suicide finally convinced him of the conspiracy and the fleet’s part in it. For my part, I must admit that the sight of Epicharis’ lacerated breasts and limbs made me feel so sick that I vomited on the grass by the sedan, although I had eaten nothing that morning.
Of course this was also because of my sudden fright and equally sudden relief at this noble woman’s courage. With her death, she gave me a key position in the exposure of the conspiracy. Out of sheer gratitude I had her buried at my expense when her former friends, for understandable reasons, could not do so. Indeed, they were soon in need of burial themselves.
As Nero was cleverly questioning Scevinus, the latter regained control of himself, and manfully looking Nero straight in the eye, assured him of his innocence. For a moment Nero vacillated in his suspicions.
“That dagger,” said Scevinus contemptuously, “has always been a sacred hereditary gift in my family and it normally lies about in my bedroom. This wretched slave, who has spat in my bed and now fears his punishment, took it away secretly. I have rewritten my will many times, as every sensible person does when circumstances change. Nor is it the first time I’ve freed slaves, as Milichus himself bears witness. I have also given money away before. Last night I was more generous than usual because I was rather drunk, and because of my debts, I thought my creditors would not approve all the clauses in the old will. So I thought I would change it. The talk about bandages is some sort of crazy invention of Milichus’. I should be accusing him here, not he me. You’ll soon find out why that cursed slave is afraid of me if you question my wife for a while. For the sake of my reputation, I haven’t wished to expose their insult to my marriage bed. If it has come to the point where I, an innocent man, am accused of plotting murder, then it’s time to speak out.”