At first the quick Phrygian youth, who was understood to be under the patronage of Acte, had been a favourite in the household, and he found little difficulty in making friends with the cooks and other slaves who superintended the meals of the imperial family. By a visit to the kitchen--in which he flattered the cook and his young assistants by the lively curiosity which he expressed about the various dishes, and the enthusiasm with which he admired their skill--he learnt that, as a special treat, a beccafico was to be sent in for the _prandium_ of Britannicus, and he conjectured that it would be poisoned. That the cook was innocent of any evil design he was sure, and he guessed that the fig-pecker would be poisoned by some slave of higher office about the young prince’s person. But he knew not how to forewarn the unsuspecting boy. The time was short. It was not easy to find an excuse by which he--whose duty lay in a different part of the Palace--could find access to the apartments of Britannicus. And whom could he warn? There was scarcely an instance known in which any one had dared to interfere between an emperor and his victims. In the general paralysis of servility, in the terror inspired by the little despicable human god, in the indifference to bloodshed caused by the games of the amphitheatre, why should any one be troubled by one death the more? But Onesimus, less familiar with a world so plague-stricken with torpid corruption, felt in his heart a spring of pity for the doomed boy. After rejecting plan after plan as impossible, it flashed upon him that he might get a message conveyed to Titus. He had but a few minutes left, and Titus could not be found until he and the prince, still warm and glowing from their game of ball, entered the parlour. Onesimus grew desperate, and, boldly summoning a young slave, sent him to Titus with the extemporised message that the centurion Pudens urgently desired to speak with him. Titus went into the hall, and recognised Onesimus as the youth whom his own kindness had first brought under the notice of Pudens. The Phrygian led him to a remote part of the hall, behind one of the statues of the Danaides, and whispered to him, ‘Britannicus is in danger. Let him not touch the bird which has been provided for his lunch. Oh, stay not to ask me anything,’ he added, when Titus seemed inclined to question him further; ‘hurry back, if you would save his life.’ Titus hurried back, but the meal was quite informal, and Britannicus, hungry with exercise, had already helped himself to the dainty set before him. ‘Give me some of that fig-pecker,’ said Titus desperately; ‘I am very fond of those birds; we catch them at Reate.’ Britannicus at once handed the dish to him with a smile. ‘I don’t know what Epictetus would think,’ he said, ‘of a Stoic who is fond of dainties.’ ‘It is meant exclusively for you, Sir,’ said the _pædagogus_, hastily. ‘I wonder that Titus should be so greedy.’