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Again the gladiators recoiled, and before they could return to the charge, back into the peristylium rushed Drusus, escaped from Cappadox, with that worthy and Mago and Agias, just released, at his heels. "Here's your man!" cried Gabinius, who still kept discreetly in the rear.
All measures of conciliation had been voted down; the crisis was close at hand. On the seventh, after his interview with Fabia, Drusus went back to his own lodgings, made a few revisions in his will, and in the presence of two or three friends declared Cappadox manumitted, lest he, by some chance, fall into the clutches of a brutal master.
Cappadox aided his bruised and stiffened master to disembark. "To-night rest," cried Drusus, forgetting all his wounds. "To-morrow away to Rome. And at Rome the war of the Gods and the Giants!" The New Consuls It had come the great crisis that by crooked ways or straight was to set right all the follies and crimes of many a generation.
Long it was before their utterance passed beyond the merest words of endearment; longer still before they were composed enough for Cornelia to listen to Drusus while he gave his own account of Mamercus's heroic resistance to Dumnorix's gang at Præneste; and told of his own visit to Ravenna, of his intense admiration for the proconsul of the two Gauls; and of how he had come to Puteoli and opened communications with Cassandra, through Cappadox, the trusty body-servant who in the guise of a fisherman was waiting in the boat below.
Per deos immortales! What's this? Mamercus! Falto!" And the young master rushed out of the room, Cappadox, who like lightning had caught up a sword, following him. Falto came running from the stables; Mamercus from the garden. Drusus faced his two subordinates, and in an eye's twinkling had taken in the situation.
He had not expected an attack on the scale of Dumnorix's whole band; and he had seen no reason why, accompanied by the trusty Mamerci and Cappadox, he should not visit his Lanuvian farm. The whole care of guarding against conspirators had been left to Marcus Mamercus, and that worthy ex-warrior had believed he had taken all needed precautions.
"Master Quintus," said he, with the familiar air of a privileged servant, "did you see that knavish-looking Gabinius following Madame Fabia all the way back to the Temple of Vesta?" "No," said Drusus; "what do you mean, you silly fellow?" "Oh, nothing," said Cappadox, humbly. "I only thought it a little queer." "Perhaps so," said his master, carelessly. Lucius Ahenobarbus Airs His Grievance
But as he spoke a blow of some unseen giant dashed him prostrate, and upon the terrace from below came Cappadox, foaming with anxious rage, his brow blacker than night, his brawny arms swinging a heavy paddle with which he clubbed the cowering slaves right and left. "Have they killed him! Have the gods spared him!" These two demands came bounding in a breath from the honest servant's lips.
Now that the combat was over he felt weak and sore enough, and was quite content to let Cappadox adjust such improvised bandages as were available, and scull him toward Puteoli. Fortunately none of the bruises was caused by any harder weapons than fists, and, though his body was black and blue, he had sustained no serious hurt.
The young Domitian was in a terrible distress. "The letters! The letters! Freedom to you all if you save them! Cast off! Chase! Sink the skiff!" But before any of the unskilful assailants could execute the order, Cappadox had driven the butt of his paddle clean through the bottom planking of the larger boat, and she was filling rapidly.
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