I was visited by
Galen, more than once, and he emphasized the still hopeful possibility,
nay probability, that Agathemer might, in time, save me, run down and
bring before a magistrate the real murderers. I was gloomy, I admit. But
his presence in that horrible hole and his words cheered me, by
brightening the hope I had never wholly lost.
Also I was tended, massaged, rubbed, chafed, washed each day in warm water
brought in big pails and poured into a big, shallow pan; I was anointed;
clothed in a comfortable tunic, strengthened with plenty of good food and
strong wine and provided with a cot and bedding and blankets. I was able
to have Narcissus indulged also, in order that he might be a less
unpleasant cell-mate.
He talked to me freely of life in the Palace, of Commodus, of Marcia, of
Ducconius Furfur, of his own fatal mistake, of the amazing likeness, even
apparent identity, between Furfur and Commodus, of the naturalness of his
inability to tell them apart.
I drank and ate all the food and wine I could swallow, slept all I could,
and tried to be hopeful.
Thus passed five horrible days and six hideous nights.
After no more than twelve days, as I learned later, Severus felt himself
securely established as Prince of the Republic.
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