I am told they
propose to abolish the gladiatorial combats! Laugh if you like. I have
it from unquestionable sources. They intend to begin by abolishing the
execution of criminals in the arena. Shades of Nero! They keep after
Marcia day and night to dissuade Caesar from taking part in the
spectacles, on the theory that he helps to make them popular."

"What do they propose to substitute in popular esteem?" asked Pertinax.

"I don't know. They're mad enough for anything, and their hold over
Marcia is beyond belief. The next thing you'll know, they'll persuade
her it's against religion to be Caesar's mistress! They're quite
capable of sawing off the branch they're sitting on. By Hercules, I
hope they do it! Some of us might go down in the scramble, but--"

"Does Marcia give Christian reasons to the emperor?" asked Pertinax, his
forehead puzzled.

"No, no. No, by Hercules. No, no. Marcia is as skillful at managing
Commodus as he is at hurling a javelin or driving horses. She talks
about the dignity of Caesar and the glory of Rome--uses truth adroitly
for her own ends--argues that if he continues to keep company with
gladiators and jockeys, and insists on taking part in the combats, Rome
may begin to despise him."

"Rome does!" murmured Pertinax, his eyes and lips suggesting a mere
flicker of a smile. "But only let Commodus once wake up to the fact
and--"

Bultius Livius nodded.

"He will return the compliment and show us how to despise at wholesale,
eh? Marcia's life and yours and mine wouldn't be worth an hour's
purchase. The problem is, who shall warn Marcia? She grows intolerant
of friendly hints. I made her a present the other day of eight matched
German' litter-bearers--beauties--they cost a fortune--and I took the
opportunity to have a chat with her. She told me to go home and try to
manage my own wife! Friendly enough--she laughed--she meant no enmity;
but shrewd though she is, and far-seeing though she is, the wine of
influence is going to her head. You know what that portends. Few men,
and fewer women, can drink deeply of that wine and--"

"She comes," said Pertinax.

There was a stir near the bronze door leading to the women's disrobing
hall. Six women in a group were answering greetings, Marcia in their
midst, but no man in the Thermae looked at them a moment longer than was
necessary to return the wave of the hand with which Marcia greeted every
one before walking down the steps