hesitated, he was beset by every kind of disease and disaster: the
gods were plainly angry and their hand was heavier upon him every day.
He summoned an assembly and laid before it the divine commands, his
own and Ptolemy's visions, and the troubles with which they were
visited. The king found the people unfavourable. They were jealous of
Egypt and fearful of their own future. So they surged angrily round
the temple. The story now grows stranger still. The god himself, it
says, embarked unaided on one of the ships that lay beached on the
shore, and by a miracle accomplished the long sea-journey and landed
at Alexandria within three days. A temple worthy of so important a
city was then built in the quarter called Rhacotis, on the site of an
ancient temple of Serapis and Isis.[455] This is the most widely
accepted account of the god's origin and arrival. Some people, I am
well aware, maintain that the god was brought from the Syrian town of
Seleucia during the reign of Ptolemy, the third of that name.[456]
Others, again, say it was this same Ptolemy, but make the place of
origin the famous town of Memphis,[457] once the bulwark of ancient
Egypt. Many take the god for Aesculapius, because he cures disease:
others for Osiris, the oldest of the local gods; some, again, for
Jupiter, as being the sovereign lord of the world. But the majority of
people, either judging by what are clearly attributes of the god or by
an ingenious process of conjecture, identify him with Pluto.

Domitian and Mucianus were now on their way to the Alps.[458] 85
Before reaching the mountains they received the good news of the
victory over the Treviri, the truth of which was fully attested by the
presence of their leader Valentinus. His courage was in no way crushed
and his face still bore witness to the proud spirit he had shown. He
was allowed a hearing, merely to see what he was made of, and
condemned to death. At his execution some one cast it in his teeth
that his country was conquered, to which he replied, 'Then I am
reconciled to death.'

Mucianus now gave utterance to an idea which he had long cherished,
though he pretended it was a sudden inspiration. This was that, since
by Heaven's grace the forces of the enemy had been broken, it would
ill befit Domitian, now that the war was practically over, to stand
in the way of the other generals to whom the credit belonged. Were the
fortunes of the empire or the safety of Gaul at stake, i