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THE ACCESSION OF NEKO 37
every lattice and balcony and roof was now thronged with
myriads of spectators, Nero was returning from the Curia to
the Palace with his guard of Praetorians.
Walking between the two Consuls, with Burrus and Seneca
attending him in white robes, followed by crowds of the greatest
Roman nobles, and by the soldiers clashing their arms,
singing their rude songs, and exulting in the thought of their
promised donative, the young ruler of the world returned.
The scene which greeted him when the great gates of the
Palace were thrown open was gay beyond description. The
atrium glowed in zones of light and many-coloured shadow.
The autumnal sunbeams streamed over the gilded chapiters,
glancing from lustrous columns of yellow and green and
violet-coloured marble, and lighting up the open spaces
adorned with shrubs and flowers. The fountains were plashing
musically into marble and alabaster basins. Between
rows of statues, the work of famed artificers, were crowded
the glad and obsequious throngs of the rejoicing house.
Agrippina was seated on a gilded chair of state at the
farther end of the hall, her arms resting on the wings of the
two sphinxes by which it was supported. She was dressed in
the chlamys, woven of cloth of gold, in which Pliny saw her
when she had dazzled the spectators as she sat by the side of
Claudius in the great festival at the opening of the Ernissarium
of the Fucine Lake. Beneath this was her rich stola, woven
of Tarentine wool and scarlet in colour, but embroidered with
pearls. It left bare from the elbow her shapely arms, which
were clasped with golden bracelets enriched with large stones
of opal and amethyst.
The moment that she caught sight of her son she descended
from her seat with proud step, and Nero advanced to meet
her. He was bending to kiss her hand, but the impulses of
nature overcame the stateliness of Roman etiquette, and for
one instant mother and son were locked in each other's arms
in a warm embrace, amid the spontaneous acclamations of the
many spectators.
That evening Agrippina had ascended to the giddiest
heights of her soaring ambition. Her son was Emperor,
and she fancied he would be as clay in her strong hands.
Alone of all the great Roman world it would be her unspeakable
glory that she was not only the descendant of emperors,