An escort of twenty praetorian guards and a decurion was waiting at the gate to take its place between the lictors and Marcia’s litter, but that did not in any way increase Livius’ sense of security.  The praetorian guard regarded Marcia as the source of its illegal privileges.  It looked to her far more than to the emperor for favors, buying them with lawless loyalty to her.  She ruined discipline by her support of every plea for increased perquisites.  No outraged citizen had any hope of redress so long as Marcia’s ear could be reached (although Commodus got the blame for it).  It was the key to Marcia’s system of insurance against unforeseen contingencies.  The only regularly drilled and armed troops in the city were as loyal to her, secretly and openly, as Livius himself was to the principle of cynical self-help.

He began to feel thoroughly frightened, as he told himself that the escort and their decurion would swear to any statement Marcia might make.  If she had learned that he was in the habit of receiving secret information from her slave, there were a thousand ways she might take to avenge herself; a very simple way would be to charge him with improper overtures and have him killed by the praetorians—­a way that might particularly interest her, since it would presumably increase her reputation for constancy to Commodus.

The eunuchs watched him.  The lictors and praetorians cleared the way, so there were no convenient halts that could enable him to slip unnoticed through the crowd.  His own attendants seemed to have divined that there was something ominous about the journey, and he was not the kind of man whose servants are devotedly attached to him.  He knew it.  He noticed sullenness already in the answers his servant gave him through the litter curtains, when he asked whether the man knew their destination.

“None knows.  All I know is, we must follow Marcia.”

The slave’s voice was almost patronizing.  Livius made up his mind, if he should live the day out, to sell the rascal to some farmer who would teach him with a whip what service meant.  But he said nothing.  He preferred to spring surprises, only hoping he himself might not be overwhelmed in one.

By the time they reached Cornificia’s house he was in such a state of nervousness, and so blanched, that he had to summon his servant into the litter to rub cosmetic on his cheeks.  He took one of Galen’s famous strychnine pills before he could prevent his limbs from trembling.  Even so, when he rolled out of the litter and advanced with his courtliest bow to escort Marcia into the house, she recognized his fear and mocked him: 

“You are bilious?  Or has some handsomer Adonis won your Venus from you?  Is it jealousy?”