It was over.
On the Palatine, quite suddenly, the Emperor stopped speaking. Before anyone could take in what was happening, Domitian had left them. He was famous for losing interest in dinners. He did not bother to say thank you for coming; after all, they had had no choice.
A brief period of confusion raged in the dim chamber, as the concerned senators tried to work out what they were supposed to do next. It was clear that the naked dancing boys had finished serving food and drink. They must have been told to stop. So, the meal had ended. Such music as there had been was funeral; it now ceased, so there was nothing to listen to, and therefore no reason to stick around as if taking an interest in culture. Sometimes, on other occasions, Domitian provided entertainment: a troupe of comic dwarves, acrobatic displays, even stylised indoor gladiating. Nothing like that had happened. Nor would it, that was evident.
Murmurs began. Disbelief at the possibility of release gave way to anxiety about what was expected of them now. Men risked turning to their neighbours to enquire what anyone thought. They had to be circumspect. Nobody wanted to talk too freely, since any gossip about the evening would without doubt be noted by Domitian’s staff and immediately passed on to him.
Perhaps some remembered how Titus, the golden boy, used to act as Vespasian’s hitman: He would invite people who had caused offence to dinner, give them a good meal, then at the end they were executed.… If an attack was planned, this could be the moment.
Camillus Justinus stood up, stretching his tall limbs. At scattered points around the dark room, others nervously followed suit, though no one was sure whether or not they could evacuate the black dining room without imperial permission. Camillus Aelianus stooped between their two couches to gather up his slave. When he straightened, with the now sleeping Toutou securely in his arms, the brothers exchanged a practiced glance, their signal.
Moving with smooth, unobtrusive steps, they passed down the rows without stopping to chat, aiming for the main door through which they had originally entered. Whenever they passed an usher they murmured false thanks for the evening, like good-mannered boys whose noble mother had brought them up in the right way.
They reached what they hoped was the exit. Their path remained unimpeded. A slave opened the heavy black curtains for them. Another operated the doors. They passed through to the outer audience chamber.
There, lines of officials were waiting for them, ready to surprise them with what Domitian had planned next.