“With rage of course,” said Clodianus in palliation. “The thing occurred thus. One of the charioteers[139] of the new party--those that wear purple--drove so magnificently, that Caesar was almost beside himself with delight. By Epona, the tutelary goddess of horses![140] but the fellow drove four horses that cannot be matched in the whole world. Incitatus,[141] old Caligula’s charger, was an ass in comparison, and the names of those splendid steeds are in every one’s mouth to-day like a proverb: Andraemon, Adsertor, Vastator and Passerinus[142]--you hear them in every market and alley; our poets might almost be envious. And the charioteer too, a free Greek in the service of Parthenius the head chamberlain, is a splendid fellow. He stood in his quadriga[143] like Ares rushing into battle. In short it was a stupendous sight, and then he was so far ahead of the rest--I tell you, no one has won by so great a length since Rome was a city. Scorpus[144] is the rascal’s name. Every one was fairly carried away. Caesar, the senators, the knights--all clapped till their hands were sore. Even strangers, the watery-eyed Sarmatians[145] and Hyperboreans[146] shouted with delight.” “Well?” asked Titus Claudius, as the narrator paused. “To be sure--the chief point. Well, it was known that Caesar would himself grant the winner some personal favor, and every one gazed at the imperial tribune in the greatest excitement. Caesar ordered the herald to command silence. ‘Scorpus,’ said he, when the uproar was lulled, ‘you have covered yourself with glory. Ask a favor of me,’ and Scorpus bowed his head and demanded in a firm voice, that Domitian should be reconciled to his wife.” “Audacious!” cried Titus Claudius wrathfully. “There is better still to come. Hardly had the charioteer spoken, when a thousand voices shouted from every bench: ‘Dost thou hear, oh Caesar? Leave thy intrigue with Julia![147] We want Domitia!’ There was quite a tumult,[148] a scandalous scene that defies description.” “But what do the people mean? What has so suddenly brought them to make this demand?” “Oh!” said Clodianus, “I see through the farce. The whole thing is merely a trick on the part of Stephanus, Domitia’s steward. That sly fox wants to regain for his mistress her lost influence. Of course he bribed Scorpus, and the gods alone know how many hundred thousand sesterces the game must have cost him. The spectators’ seats were filled on all sides with bribed wretches, and even among the better classes I saw some who looked to me suspicious.” “This is bad news,” interrupted the high-priest. “And what answer did Domitian give the people?” “I am almost afraid to tell you of his decision.”