I followed Juvenalis along the corridors, elated by my nobleman's attire,
but nervous at the prospect of coming face to face with the master of Rome
and Italy, with the prospective (as he turned out to be in fact) master of
the world.
I was ushered in and Juvenalis withdrew, shutting the door and leaving me
alone with the great man. He rose from his chair, for it could not be
called a throne, took a step or two towards me and greeted me affably, as
one nobleman another. He bade me be seated, did not sit down himself until
I had taken the chair he indicated; then he settled himself deliberately.
We eyed each other, in silence. I cannot conjecture what he thought of me,
but I can never forget the impression made on me by him.
He wore the Imperial robes consciously. I had often noted how Commodus
wore his without thought, as any fisherman wears his rags. Severus was
aware of his regalia, and especially of the sky-blue shoes with the
Imperial Eagles embroidered on them in gold thread. He looked a man in the
best of health, completely fit for a frontier command, for open
campaigning, full of surplus energy, hard-muscled, spare and enduring.
Also he looked as competent, discerning, clear-headed and ruthless as a
man could be.
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