"Why!" the foremost of them cried. "These are not the men! These are not the men at all! They are not in the least like them!"

"Not in the least like Lupercus and Rufinus, certainly," another added.

"What a pack of asses you are!" cried a third, "to mishandle two strangers. Couldn't you look at them before you mauled them?"

"We all took them for Rufinus and Lupercus," the head huntsman rejoined. "Certainly they are desperate characters and runaways. Look at their backs."

They turned us round, to display the marks of scourging still plain on us both.

"They've both been branded," said a gentleman's voice.

"Pooh!" cried another, "that proves nothing. They may have been scourged and branded by former masters, and manumitted since. I'll have no stranger ill-treated on my land until he has had a chance to explain himself."

While he was speaking my guards turned me round again and took their hands off me.

Our champion was a tall, powerful, plump and florid young man, with very curly golden hair, very light blue eyes, and the merest trace of downy, curly yellow beard. He was very handsome, with small delicate nose and mouth, a round chin and the most beautiful ears I ever saw on any man. He wore senators' boots and a tunic of pure silk, dyed a very brilliant green and embroidered all over with a flowering vine in a darker, glossier green.

"What are your names?" asked the elder man who had noticed our brand- marks. He was swarthy and probably over thirty.

I gave him the name of Felix and Agathemer that of Asper, as we had agreed, neither of us thinking it advisable to claim to be free Romans by prefixing, "Sabinus" and "Bruttius."

"Shut up, Marcus," our champion ordered, "can't you see that these poor fellows are in no condition to answer any questions? We'll interrogate them after they have bathed, eaten and slept."

"Here, Trogus," he called to one of the chief-huntsman's assistants, "take charge of these two fellows. Treat them well; if they report any incivility or omission on your part I'll make you regret it. When they are bathed and fed, let them sleep all they want to.

"And, here, Umbro" (this to the head-huntsman), "see that their effects are found and restored to them."

He turned to us.

"Did you have wallets?" he asked.

We nodded, too shaken to speak.

"Umbro," he said, "scour the wood. Have their shoes, their cloaks and especially their wallets found and brought to me. And make sure that nothing is taken from those wallets, that they are handed to their owners as they were found. If they find anything missing, I'll make you and your men smart. Be prompt! Be lively. Get those wallets and cloaks and shoes."

While he gave these orders, some beaters brought us our torn tunics; which, even so, were better than no clothing at all. We put them on.

Then we were led off to the edge of a forest, bestowed in a light Gallic gig, drawn by one tall roan mule only, and in it, the driver sitting at our feet, sideways, on one shaft, his legs hanging down, we were driven off through a beautiful gently rolling country, clothed with the superabundant crops, vines and orchards of the lower Po Valley, all bathed in brilliant spring sunshine, to a magnificent villa, most opulently provided with white-walled, neat outbuildings, all roofed with red tiles. In one of these, apparently the house of the farm-overseer, we were bathed, clothed with fresh tunics, far better than our own, lavishly fed and led to rest in tiny white-washed rooms, very plain, but clean and airy, where we went to sleep on corded cots provided with very thin grass- stuffed mattresses.

When we woke each found his wallet beside his cot, set on his neatly folded cloak; with our old worn shoes, well cleaned, on the floor by the folded cloaks.

Later we were led before our host and champion, who turned out to be Tarrutenus Spinellus; in no wise, it seemed, affected, by the downfall of his great kinsman. He questioned us and Agathemer told the story we had agreed on: that we had been slaves of Numerius Vedius of Aquileia, who had been kind to both of us and had made him overseer and me accountant of his vegetable farms on the sandy islets offshore along the coast of the Adriatic by Aquileia. There we had lived contentedly till we had been captured by raiding Liburnian pirates from the Dalmatian islands. They had sold us at Ancona, where we had been horribly mistreated by a cruel and savage master, who had branded and scourged us for imaginary delinquencies.

From him we had run away, intent on making our way back to Aquileia and to our rightful owner.

"This all sounds plausible," said Tarrutenus, "and I believe you, and it falls out well. For my cousin, Cornelius Vindex, will leave tomorrow or next day for Aquileia and you can travel in his company all the way."

We were well fed and lodged while at Villa Spinella. While there we learned that Lupercus and Rufinus, the two escaped malefactors for whom we had been mistaken by the huntsmen and beaters, had been runaway slaves, long uncatchable and lurking in swamps and forests, who had lately, tried to rob at night the store-house of a farmstead: and who, when the farmer rushed out to defend his property, had murdered him and even thereafter, in mere wantonness, had also murdered two of his slaves, his wife and a young daughter. This horrible crime had roused the whole countryside to hunt them down and the great battue in which we had been involved had been organized at a time of the year most unusual and ruinous to the increase of deer-herds, precisely in order to snare the outlaws along with the game. They had not been caught and we had.

After two nights' good sleep, and a day's rest, with excellent and abundant meals, we set off at dawn in Cornelius' convoy, our precious amulet-bags untouched; our wallets just as we had flung them down in the forest, not a coin missing; and we were clothed in new good tunics, our bruises pretty well healed up or healing nicely, ourselves well content with our escape, but meditating a second escape, this time from, Cornelius.

For we had no stomach for the road to Aquileia, if in such company that we must present ourselves before Vedius as claiming to be slaves of his.

We escaped easily enough, just after crossing the Po, by sneaking off in the darkness from a villa where Cornelius, stopped overnight with a friend. Without any difficulty we recrossed the Po, not far below Hostilia, and from there made for Parma.

For we agreed that, after our story to Tarrutenus, with Cornelius Vindex in Aquileia, Aquileia would be no fit bourne for us. So we decided, after all, to risk the highway from Parma to Dertona and from there make our way across the Ligurian Mountains to Vada Sabatia and from there along the highway to Marseilles, where we should be able to hide in the slums among the mixture of all races in that lively city; and where Agathemer was sure he could turn gems into cash without danger or suspicion.

All, went well with us till we reached Placentia. There we put up at an inn. As we were leaving the town next morning, when we were about half way from the inn to the Clastidian Gate, Agathemer gripped my arm and motioned me up a side street. We walked with every indication of leisurely indifference until we had taken several turns and were alone in a narrow street. Then he told me that we had barely missed coming face to face with Gratillus himself.

This barely missed encounter with one of the most dreaded of the Emperor's spies, a man who knew me perfectly and who had always disliked me, so terrified both of us that we left Placentia by the Nuran Gate and made our way southwestward into the Apennines.

Once in the mountains we avoided every good road we saw and kept to bad byways, until we were completely lost.



CHAPTER XVI

THE CAVE

The late spring or early summer weather was hot and clear. We had been pressing on feverishly and were heated, tired and sleepy, when, while following a faint track through dense woods, we took a wrong turn and soon found that we had utterly lost our way. The sunlight was intensely brilliant and the windless air sweltering. Stumbling over rocks and through bushes was exhausting. We came upon a little spring and quenched our thirst. Standing by it and staring about we noticed what looked like an opening in an inconspicuous vine-clad cliff. It was, in fact, the entrance to a spacious and, apparently, extensive cave.

The outer opening was about the size of an ordinary door. Though it was well masked by beeches above and cornel bushes below, such was the position of the sun and so intense was the flood of light it poured down from the cloudless sky, that the inside of the cave, for some little distance, was faintly discernible in the glimmer which penetrated there. After our eyes had become accustomed to the darkness we could make out fairly well the shape and proportions of the first considerable grotto.

From the outer opening a passage about a yard wide and two yards high extended straight into the cliff for about four yards. There it bent sharply to the right in an elbow. This offset extended three or four yards and then bent to the left in a similar elbow, opening into a cavern more than fifteen yards wide, twice as long or longer, and with a roof of dim white pendants like alabaster, no part of which was less than five yards from the conveniently level, rather damp floor, while some parts of it were lofty.

The two elbows in the entrance passage made it impossible to see into this cavern from anywhere out in the woods, and impossible to see out from anywhere inside it. Yet, as I said, so brilliant was the sunlight and so favorable the position, of the sun at the moment of our entrance that, after the outer dazzle had faded from inside our eyes, we could make out the form and size of this rocky hall.

To the right of the opening where the outer passage expanded, around a jutting shoulder of rock, we found a recess about three yards across and nearly as deep, in which we felt and smelt wood-ashes and charred, half- burnt wood. We groped among the damp charcoal, convincing ourselves that many good-sized fires had been made there, but none recently. We stood back and regarded this recess, which was so placed that no gleam from any fire, however large, kindled in it, could ever show outside the cave. Investigating the recess yet again Agathemer looked up and pointed. Above me, I saw sky. The recess was a natural fire-place with a natural chimney from it, opening at a considerable height above.

To the right of the fire-place recess, round another smaller shoulder of rock, was a perfectly vertical wall of smooth stone terminating just above our reach at an opening three yards wide or more. The top of the wall of rock at the bottom of the opening was almost as straight as a door-sill.

At first we could descry in the walls of the cavern no other openings than the entrance, the chimney and this opening above our reach, unless one boosted the other up. From under it we went all round the cave past the fire-place and the entrance. The floor was all damp or moist, no place fit for us to lie down to sleep and we felt along the wall opposite the fire- place, where the light was too dim to see at all. After feeling for some yards we emerged or came round into a less dusky space, where we could see to some extent and so on along the back wall of the cave opposite the entrance, later groping along the wall, when the light failed.

Some forty to forty-five yards from the entrance, at the far end of this extensive grotto, we came upon a passage, two or three yards wide and about as high, leading further back into the bowels of the mountain. We groped into it a few steps, but it sloped sharply downward and was wet, so we retreated out of it, it being also pitch dark.

Returning along the other side of the cavern towards the fire-place we came upon a narrow opening, less than a yard wide and not much over a yard high. It led into a passage which sloped upwards and was free from moisture. Agathemer was for exploring it. I remonstrated. He insisted. After some expostulation I bade him stand at the opening, which was out of sight of the gleam of daylight at the entrance, being behind a big shoulder of rock further in than the fire-place. While he stood as I told him I went out towards the middle of the cavern floor till I could see the fireplace, though very dimly, and the entrance, quite clearly, by the mellow glow at it from the outer sunshine reflected along the walls of the twice bent entrance-passage.

When I had reached a position from which I could certainly see the entrance and from which, as Agathemer told me, I could be seen by him, I told him I would stay there while he explored the little passage into the side of the cavern. I adjured him to be cautious and not venture himself recklessly in the pitch dark. He declared he could feel his way safely some distance and be sure of returning. Then he crawled into the narrow opening.

Before I had waited long enough to grow impatient, I heard him call:

"Why, I can see you!"

The voice came not from the direction of the opening into which he had crawled, but from near the fire-place.

"Where are you?" I called back.

"Over here," said he, "come towards me."

Advancing towards the voice and peering into the dimness, where the light dispersed from the entrance made the darkness of the cavern just a little less dark than blackness, I saw him standing on the sill, as it were, of the opening up in the wall, beyond the fire-place as one approached from the entrance, and above the vertical wall of rock.

He had found a passage just big enough to crawl through leading from the aperture up to this species of gallery-alcove. The passage curved and was not much over twenty yards long. He pulled me up to the gallery and we crawled back together out of the aperture by which he had entered the passage. The whole passage was dry, unlike the floor of the cave.

"I tell you what we ought to do," said Agathemer, "let us go outside and gather armfuls of small leafy boughs and twigs. These we can throw up into that gallery-opening and make a fine bed there where it is dry. Then we can get a good safe sleep, and we need a long sound sleep."

We did as he suggested till we had leaves enough for a good bed. Then we ate, sparingly, for we had not much food in our wallets. After eating we wrapped ourselves in our cloaks and went to sleep; Agathemer with his wallet beside him and his head on his arm, I with my wallet under my head.

I wakened with a hand over my mouth and with Agathemer's voice in my ear saying:

"Keep still! Lie still! Don't move or speak! Lie still!"

He spoke in a tense whisper, so low that I could hardly understand him with his mouth against my ear, so full of terror that the tone of it startled me wide awake.

My first impression was of a glaring orange light on the roof of the cavern and a diffused reflection of it or from it on the roof of our gallery-alcove.

"Keep your head down!" Agathemer whispered. "If you turn over, turn over quietly."

I did turn over, very slowly, a muscle at a time and with great precautions to avoid rustling the leaves or twigs of the bed on which we lay.

As soon as I turned over I perceived that a good, big fire must be burning on the fire-place and that the light on the cavern roof was the direct glare from that, while the subdued glow on the roof of our alcove was the light reflected from the farther wall of the cavern or from its roof.

As our alcove was separated from the fire by a jutting pillar of rock, no direct light from the fire fell on its opening; it and we were well in the shadow. So shadowed we could hunch ourselves forward as far as we dared and peer down into the cave.

Its floor was littered with wallets, blankets, staffs and other foot- farers' gear. About it sat groups of men, every one with a sheath-knife or dagger in his belt. I counted forty and there were more out of sight round the shoulder of rock between our alcove and the fire-place.

We smelt flesh roasting or boiling. The squatting groups seemed busy with preparations for a meal.

The men, except one lad like a shepherd, did not look Italian. Some struck me as Spanish, others as Gallic, one or two as runaway slaves of mongrel ancestry. Nearly all of them had the unmistakable carriage and bearing of soldiers, even specifically of soldiers of out-of-the-way garrisons, in the mountains or on frontiers. Yet their behavior was tin-soldierly. I judged them discharged campaigners with an admixture of deserters and outlaws. They all had travellers' umbrella hats, and all had thrown them off; their cloaks were coarse and rough, many torn, but none patched, their tunics similar; their boots of Gallic fashion, coming up nearly to the knee, like Sicilian hunting-boots. They were all black-haired and shock-headed, all swarthy, and most of them of medium height and solidly built. They did not talk loud and they all talked at once, so that we made out little of what was said and nothing informing.

I could not but remark that, although the weather was exceedingly hot and the fire seemed large, it made no difference whatever in the feeling of the very slightly damp, gratefully cool and evenly mild air of the cavern.

Presently the food was ready and was distributed: goat's-flesh, roasted or broiled, some sort of coarse bread or quickly-made cakes, wine aplenty, olives and figs. While they ate most of them sat in groups; some stood by twos or threes; a few stood singly. From their looks, attitudes, the direction in which they faced and other indications, we inferred that their chief was seated to the right of the fire, between it and us, with his back to the pillar of rock and just out of sight of us around it. Some appeared to be standing in a half-circle before him, listening to him, or conversing with him. A few of the men ate alone, sitting, standing or walking about.

One of these, munching a while as he strolled back and forth, came and took his stand behind and outside of the respectful half circle, standing facing the fire. When he finished eating and his face quieted as he stood there silent, gazing at something out of our sight, all at once, simultaneously, I gripped Agathemer and he gripped me. The fellow was Caulonius Pelops, two years before secretary to the overseer of my uncle's estate near Consentia in Bruttium. He had run away not long before my uncle's death.

I stared at him, revolving in my mind the difference of the attitude of mind towards runaway slaves of a former master who catches sight of a runaway from his estates and of the same being while pretending himself to be a runaway. I could have laughed out loud at the contrast between the feelings towards Pelops which I felt surge up in me and the feelings I hoped for towards me, say in Tarrutenus Spinellus.

Pelops, of course, knew me perfectly, knew Agathemer as well, would recognize either of us at sight. Therefore, if we were now discovered, we saw lost all that we had thought to gain and thought we had gained by our crawl through the drain pipe and the other features of our escape up to now. If Pelops set eyes on me, he, at least, would know that I was yet alive, he might tell all the band; if he told them, any one of them, even if not he himself, might inform the authorities and put new life into the search for me, if it had not been abandoned, or revive it if it had; put every spy in Italy on the alert to catch me: or even betray me to the nearest magistrate.

And Pelops had always disliked me and had always envied and hated Agathemer. We were keyed up with anxiety.

Just as we recognized Pelops a tall, red-headed, sandy lout, with a long neck and a prominent gullet-knot, came forward into sight from the direction of the entrance, apparently from beyond the fire. He put up his right hand and called, slowly and clearly:

"Eating time is over: Now we hold council!"

The men speedily assembled in curving rows facing the fire and sat or stood as they pleased, all facing where we inferred that their leader sat, to the right of the fire-place out of our sight round the bulge of the shoulder of rock.

Between them and the fire, just far enough from it for him to be visible to us, a burly shock-headed, black-haired southern Gaul took his stand.

Then we clearly heard a voice, which we inferred must be the leader's, a voice distinct and far-carrying, but a voice amazingly soft, mild and gentle, say:

"Council is called. Let all other men be silent. Caburus is to speak."

The burly Gaul began blusteringly, with a strong southern Gallic accent like a Tolosan:

"It is no use, Maternus, trying to bamboozle us with your everlasting serenity. We decline to be fooled any longer. Somehow, by sorcery or magic, you infused into us the greatest enthusiasm for your crazy project. You've dragged us over the Alps and into these Apennines. On the way we've talked matters over among ourselves. The nearer we get to Rome the crazier our errand seems. We have made fools of ourselves under your leadership long enough. We go no further.

"We admit that Commodus ought to be killed; we admit that, if he were killed, it would be a good thing for all Gaul and for Spain and Britain, too, and, we suppose, for Italy and all the provinces. We also admit that it would be a fine thing for us if we could kill Commodus, avoid getting killed or caught ourselves, and win the rewards we could properly hope for from the next Emperor, and the glory we'd have at home as successful heroes.

"But, when free from the spell of your eloquence, we see no chance of killing the Emperor and surviving to reap the reward of our prowess: none of surviving: not even any of killing him. You say you have a perfect and infallible plan which you will reveal when the time comes. You may have a plan and it may be infallible and as certain of success as the sun is certain of rising tomorrow and the day after. But we have followed you and your secret plan long enough. We follow no further unless we know what plan we are expected to take part in. We have all agreed to that and we all stick to that."

And the assemblage chorused:

"We have all agreed to that and we all stick to that."

Now, from, where we peered down from our hiding-place Maternus was entirely out of sight. We could not see what attitude he took nor what expression his face wore. Yet, by the flickering light of the leaping fire, which flooded the cavern with its ruddy glare, we could plainly see the effect of his personality on the assemblage. Even as their shouts of assent to what Caburus had said still rang through the cave I could see them half fawning, half cringing towards their chief.

Yet his voice, when he spoke, was not harsh or domineering, but, while perfectly audible, as bland and placid as a girl's.

"Please remember," he said, "that a plan such as I have conceived, while it is, if carried out as designed, as certain of success as the swoop of the hawk upon the hare, is certain of success only while it is not only undreamed of by its object but totally unsuspected by anyone outside of our band. The success of our project depends on no one having any inkling of any such project, far less having an inkling of what kind of a project it is.

"For your sakes and for your sakes only have I kept the details of my plans locked in my own bosom. You are venturing your lives to help me to the realization of my hopes of setting free the world. Your lives must not be risked needlessly. Little will be the risk any of you will run in carrying out my plans, so ingeniously are they conceived. But that smallness of risk can be attained only if the nature of the project is unknown to anyone save myself up to the latest possible moment before putting it into effect. Every day, every hour, which elapses between the giving of my instructions and their execution increases the danger of our betrayal. We must have guides, we must, occasionally, induct into our society new associates. Not one of these can be a danger to us as long as the methods by which we are to effect our purpose is unknown except to me. I propose no loitering in Rome. I mean to arrive at the right spot at the right hour, at the hour of opportunity, to strike and to vanish before anyone save ourselves knows that the blow has been struck. Only thus can we succeed, only thus can we escape. Upon my silence our success depends. Once I speak, every day, every hour makes it more likely that someone will betray to some outsider the nature of our plot or even its details. Then we shall certainly fail and perish."

Thereupon ensued a long wrangle in which Caburus repeated that Maternus had said all that before and Maternus repeated the same argument in other words and brought up other similar arguments. The crowd, while swayed by Maternus, appeared to lean more and more to the opinions of Caburus. It became manifest that they would break away and disperse unless Maternus revealed his intentions. He was, apparently, quick to sense the situation and finally yielded.

"I have three separate plans," he said, "and I mean to prepare to use all three, so that, if the first fails the second may succeed; if both the first and second fail I may hope to succeed with the third.

"I mean to reach Rome two days before the Festival of Cybele and for all of us to get a sound night's sleep. Then, on the eve of the great day, most of you may wander about the city sight-seeing; Caburus and I and a few with us will buy or hire costumes for the Festival.

"As we have all heard, the wildest license in costumes is permitted on the day of the celebration. Everybody dresses up as extravagantly as possible. More than that it is so customary for jokers to dress up in burlesque of notables that such assumptions of the costumes of officials are merely laughed at and the wearers of them are never arrested or even reprimanded.

"Caburus and I will buy at old-clothing shops or hire from costumers cast off uniforms of the privates of the Praetorian Guard. Two squads of us, all volunteers and approved as boldest, strongest and quickest, will dress up as Praetorians. One will be led by Caburus and I myself shall lead the other.

"Caburus and his men will mingle with the crowd along the line of the morning procession. The procession is so long, its route is so jammed with sight-seeing rabble, the rabble is permitted so close to the line of the procession, so many wonders and marvels form part of the procession, there is so much interest in gazing at them, that it is possible that Caburus may see a chance to achieve our object. I shall leave it to him whether to give whatever signal he may agree on with his men, or to withhold it. If he sees an opportunity, that will mean that, in his judgment, there is a good chance of killing the tyrant and getting away unrecognized. You know how cautious Caburus is: you will run no risk if he does not give the signal and little if he does.

"Now, Caburus, what do you think of this plan?"

Not being able to watch Maternus making his speech, I, while straining my ears to catch his softly uttered words, had kept my eyes on Caburus, had marvelled to see the dogged spirit of opposition and surly disaffection fade out of his expression, to see interest and excitement take their place.

"I think," he shouted, "that you are a marvel! I don't wonder that you wanted to conceal this plan till the last possible moment. It is so good that I already want to tell it to somebody, just to see his amazement. But we'll keep your secret! And as to your plan, I'll risk it. No Gaul with a drop of sporting blood in his veins would hesitate to embrace the opportunity to try to carry out so ingenious, so promising a plan.

"And you don't need a second plan or third plan. This plan, under my leadership, is certain to succeed."

At this a scrawny, tow-headed, long-armed, long-legged fellow sprang to his feet.

"I don't agree with that at all," he vociferated.

"Just because the first plan pleases Caburus is no reason why we should not hear the other two plans also."

This utterance started a long discussion, from which Agathemer and I learned nothing except that there was much insubordination among the men following Maternus and that the scrawny objector was named Torix.

The upshot of the discussion was a general agreement that Maternus ought to disclose all three plans.

Maternus then resumed:

"The second plan is already known to Cossedo and it need not be known to anyone else, as he alone is concerned and he, if Caburus decides not to make his attempt, will attempt his alone, without any assistance from anyone and without endangering anyone else; in fact without endangering himself. I myself thought of this plan, which is so ingenious that, if it succeeds, no one will ever know how Commodus came to his death; it if fails no one will ever suspect that it was tried at all.

"You have all been wondering how Cossedo came to be with us. Many of you have jeered him; many of you have protested to me. But I know what I am doing. Cossedo can do other things besides walk the tight-rope, juggle five balls at once, and stand on his head on the back of a galloping horse. He is just the right man to carry out my idea, which neither I nor any other of us could put into effect. As Cossedo approves the plan; as he is to try it alone, no one else need know it."

"Just so," cried the red-headed lout who had heralded the council, coming forward into the fire-light. "I can try it and I may do it. If I do it, Commodus will be a corpse. If I fail, no one will know I have tried. And it is a jewel of a plan."

And he stood on his hands, feet waggling in the air, apparently from mere exuberance of spirits. Standing up again, he threw three flip-flops forward, then two backward, then turned a half a dozen cart wheels, during which gyrations he passed out of our field of view.

Torix sulkily agreed that the second plan remain unknown except to Maternus and Cossedo, the assemblage not supporting him when he pressed for its disclosure. But he was insistent about the third plan.

"The third plan," said Maternus, "is merely the first plan over again, except that I lead instead of Caburus and that we try after dark instead of by day. From all I can hear the opportunity will be even better by torchlight in the gardens about the temple than it will be by day in the jammed streets. I mean to be as cautious as I expect Caburus to be: there is no use making an attempt unless a really promising chance presents itself. If I see an opening I'll kill the monster myself, and I do not expect to need any help from anybody, except a little jostling in the crowd to increase the confusion. As rigged up in Praetorian uniforms we will be laughed at and indulged. Either in the noonday swelter or in the torchlit darkness it ought to be easy to pass from aping, mimicking and burlesquing Praetorians to personating and counterfeiting Praetorians. Once mistaken for real guards we ought to be able to get close to Commodus. Then in the torchlight it should be easy for me to finish him and for you others to escape. I shall not think of escape until the deed is done. Then I'll escape, if I can, but I shall let no thought of escape interfere with my doing what I purpose."

This speech was acclaimed by everyone except Torix. He said:

"All this is most ingenious. But there is in this plan one flaw which no one has noted. I suppose that you, Maternus, evolved this really promising idea from pondering on what Claudius told us. All the hearsay about Rome and its festivals which ever came to the ears of all of us put together is as nothing at all compared with what Claudius told us in two months. Claudius had lived in Rome, Claudius knew every alley in Rome. With Claudius to pilot us we might have hoped to succeed. But Claudius is dead, dead somewhere in the Alps, where he is no use to us. He had seen the Emperor, he knew him by sight. Not one of us does. And, as Claudius told us, at the Festival of Cybele, as at several other religious festivals, the Emperor does not wear his official robes, so that anyone may recognize him, but appears in the garb of a priest of the deity celebrated, as High Priest or Assistant High Priest, or as a dignitary of some other degree, the rank in the hierarchy varying with the deity worshipped.

"Now not one of us, who have never set eyes on him, can tell Commodus, in the garb of a priest of Cybele, from any other priest of Cybele. We have no reasonable assurance of recognizing the mark at which we aim. Thus we have only a small chance of success, by sunlight or torchlight."

This utterance started another wrangle; the men, apparently, about equally divided as backers of Maternus and of Torix. As I lay listening to this hubbub someone stepped on the calf of my leg, his foot slipped off of it, and he fell on top of me, with a smothered exclamation.

"Who are you?" he demanded, adding some words which I did not catch. It seemed that another man was occupied similarly with Agathemer. The man who had fallen on me, in the act of scrambling up, yelled out:

"Here are two men lying and listening and they do not seem to belong to us. They do not respond to the pass-word."

At that every voice stilled and every face turned to our alcove-balcony where our captors, now four, gripped us and had lifted us to our knees.

"Throw 'em down!" came a chorus of voices, "throw 'em down!"

Down we were thrown, none too tenderly, but we landed without breaking any bones.

Two men clutched each of us and haled us towards the fire. There we had our first glimpse of Maternus, who sat on a pack, his back against the rock, not too close to the fire, the light of which played on his left cheek.

He looked plump and lazy.

"Strip them," he commanded.

As he was being obeyed somebody did something to the fire which increased the light it gave.

"Turn them round," Maternus commanded. "Humph," he commented, "by their faces they are a Roman gentleman and his Greek secretary; by their backs they are fugitive slaves with bad records."

"They are both branded," added Torix, who had been inspecting us.

"Where?" queried Maternus. "I don't see any brand marks."

"On the left shoulder, each of them," Torix replied.

"Humph!" Maternus commented, "rascally slaves and indulgent master, or canny owner of valuable, if restive, property."

Just as he said this there was a yell at our left and Caulonius Pelops rushed in from somewhere beyond the firelight, probably from outside the cave.

"Here's the solution of our dilemma," he cried. "We are all right now. We've two men who know Commodus by sight. This is Andivius Hedulio, my former master's nephew, and the other is his secretary, Agathemer."

"What, in the name of Mithras," Maternus breathed, "is your master's nephew doing in a cave in the Apennines, with his back all scourge-marks and a runaway-slave brand on his shoulder?"

Then ensued a long series of questions and answers, in the course of which Agathemer and I pretty well told our story.

Maternus asked the assemblage whether they believed us and the consensus was that they believed us and Pelops, who reminded them that Claudius had read to them lists of those involved in conspiracies, who had been executed or banished and their properties confiscated; that my name had been among those he read; and that he, Pelops, had then told about me; all of which most of them did not recollect at all, and the few who claimed to recollect it recollected only vaguely.

Maternus, in his mild way, suggested that we would make valuable additions to their association. Torix opposed the idea, but Maternus pointed out that no one of them had as much to gain by the Emperor's death as I had: that after it I might hope to be restored to my rank and wealth, and that, after my miseries, I ought to hate Commodus more viciously than any of them. The assemblage approved, and, while throat-cutting was not mentioned, as that was the obvious alternative, Agathemer and I took oath as brothers in the confraternity.

Upon this we were released and our wallets, cloaks, hats and staffs, which had been deposited before Maternus, were restored to us. But Maternus informed us that no member of the band was allowed any money of his own. We must give up to him any coins we had.

Agathemer spread his cloak, spread mine on it, and upon it I emptied my wallet, that all might see its contents. I was allowed to retain everything, except the denarii. Agathemer did the like, with the like result. But at the sight of his flageolet there were exclamations and questions. He kept it out when he repacked his belongings, only giving the coins to Maternus. After we had fed he played tunes on it, to the delight of the whole band. It seemed to me they would never let him stop playing that flageolet and I was desperately drowsy.

At last all were for sleep. Maternus decreed that Agathemer and I might climb up again on the dry shelf where we had been found. Neither he nor any of the band seemed to object to, or indeed to notice, the dampness of the cave floor.

Agathemer and I slept at once. Our precious amulet-bags, of course, had not been investigated, or so much as suspected, and were safe on our neck- thongs.



CHAPTER XVII

THE FESTIVAL

Thus most strangely, and through no fault of mine, I found myself a full fledged formally sworn member of a conspiracy against the life of Commodus.

Maternus, whether from innate considerateness or because it happened to coincide with his plans, let us have our sleep out and wake naturally. We woke hungry and fed with the whole band, totalling forty-nine with ourselves, according to my count and to the statement of Pelops. He was most absurdly, but naturally, more than a little shy and bashful at finding himself in a position of complete equality with me. As we ate he narrated his reasons for running away and how he had escaped to Clampetia, from there on a fishing-boat to Sarcapus in Sardinia, and from there on a trading ship to Marseilles. There he had attached himself to a slave- dealer and with him had travelled to Tolosa and Narbo, where he had gotten into trouble and had fled to the mountains. There he had joined some outlaws, who had joined Maternus.

The fellows who had found me and Agathemer told cheerfully how the shepherd lad, their local guide, who knew nothing of them except that they were accepted associates of some local mountain brigands, had been showing them the inner passages of the cave, into which Agathemer and I had not ventured, and, on their return, had proposed to lead them up the side- passage to the outlook-opening. There they had trodden on us and so captured us.

After eating we set out on our way southwards to Rome.

On the march, inevitably, I became acquainted with Maternus and marvelled at that most amazing man. I had heard of him, of course, for his exploits as mutineer, outlaw, insurgent and rebel had made him notorious, not only in Spain and Gaul, but in Italy, even among the circles of society amid which I moved by inheritance. His reputation for strength, vigor, valor, resolution, ruthlessness, ferocity and cunning had made me picture him as different as possible from what he really was.

He was neither tall nor burly and nothing about him gave any hint of the great strength for which he was reputed and which, on occasion, I have seen him exert. Only one man of the band was shorter than Maternus and no other looked so much the reverse of hard and tough.

Maternus, in fact, looked soft. His very outline was plump, his feet and hands small, his toes and fingers delicate. He was not a handsome man, but he was by no means ill-looking and in some respects was almost boyish, or even girlish. He had glossy, straight brown hair, soft brown eyes, a complexion almost infantile in its rosy freshness, and all his features were small, his ears close to his head, his mouth even tiny, his nose likewise: and withal, Maternus was habitually mild, serene of expression, slow and soft of speech, and deliberate in all his movements. I never heard him raise his voice or speak or act hurriedly or urgently.

Of course, I had been dumbfounded to find him in Italy and in the Apennines when everybody supposed him a hunted fugitive, hiding in the Pyrenees or the Cevennes; or even, perhaps, in the wilds of North Spain. Still more was I amazed at the boldness of a man who could conceive such plans for assassinating the Prince of our Republic and could feel serenely confident of being able to execute them.

He was perfectly open with me. He had been a worshipper and adorer of Aurelius. If Aurelius had lived to a reasonable old age, he averred, the Republic would have been firmly established, the Empire solidified, the administration purified and the frontiers defended. Everything that had happened in the past five years he blamed on Commodus. It was the indifference of Commodus which had ruined the administration of the army, so that incompetent, dishonest, and tyrannical under-officers drove young patriots like himself into mutiny, outlawry and their consequences. Had Commodus been a capable ruler he and his fellow malcontents would have been listened to, placated and sent off, aflame with patriotic enthusiasm and bent on redeeming their past records, to hurl back from the hardest- pressed part of our frontiers the most dangerous foes of the Republic. Upon Commodus he blamed his mutiny, all the atrocities he had committed in the course of his insurrections, and all the blood he had shed, as well as all the towns he had sacked and burnt in the course of his raids; also on Commodus he blamed the destruction of his army of insurgents.

He freely discussed with me his plans for assassinating Commodus. I could not deny that they were brilliantly conceived.

Almost equally brilliant I thought his management of his expedition. From where I joined it, near the crest of the Apennines, somewhere between the head-waters of the Trebia and the Nura, we advanced on Rome as rapidly as footfarers could travel. In the Ligurian Apennines, until we had crossed the upper tributaries of the Tarus, the Macra and the Auser, and were between Luna and Pistoria, we travelled all together, tramping all night in single file after a guide and sleeping all day in well hidden camps. Everywhere we were well fed. Nowhere did we lose our way or meet anyone not forewarned and friendly. It was as if the highwaymen, brigands and outlaws of the whole Empire had formed an association, so that any of them could travel secretly anywhere by the help of those of the regions which they crossed. We advanced as if swift and reliable runners had preceded us, advised of our approach the outlaws of each district and they had prepared to entertain us and to forward us on our way.

From somewhere between Pistoria and Luca we broke up into small parties of three to seven, and travelled by day like ordinary wayfarers. Somewhere not far south of the Arnus we reassembled, evidently by prearrangement and as accurately as a well-managed military-expedition. Through the mountains past Arretium we marched at night as in the Apennines. Again somewhere to the west of Clusium, before we reached the Pallia, we again dispersed. We struck the Clodian Highway about halfway between Clusium and the Pallia. From there we proceeded like ordinary footfarers.

Both between Pistoria and Arretium, along the byroads, and from the Pallia to Rome, on the Clodian Highway, I was in the party headed by Maternus himself, a party of five besides us two. When we dispersed near Luca I had noted that Torix, Pelops and Cossedo with two more made a party; and that Caburus took Agathemer with him.

As Maternus had been open with me about his past and his plans so he was perfectly frank about his attitude towards me.

"I assume," he said, "that you are delighted at the opportunity which chance and I have given you to assist in revenging yourself on Commodus. I similarly assume that you and Agathemer would keep any oath taken by you. But prudence compels a leader like me to take no chances. I must, as a wary guardian of my associates, take all possible precautions. You will understand."

We did understand. We were watched as if he assumed that we were on the alert for a chance of escape, as we were. On night marches a leathern thong was knotted about my waist and the ends knotted similarly about the waists of the man before me and the man behind me. Agathemer was made secure in a like fashion. When he lay down to sleep, after he had composed himself to rest, a blanket was spread over him and a burly ruffian lay down on either side of him, the edges of the blanket under them. I slept similarly guarded. On day marches Caburus kept Agathemer close to him; I was never out of sight of Maternus.

Somewhere in the Etrurian hills north of Arretium I overheard part of a conversation between Maternus and Caburus. They were talking of me and Agathemer.

"You cannot be sure," said Maternus. "By every rule of reason Hedulio ought to hate Commodus consumedly. But loyalty is so inbred in senators and men of equestrian rank, in all the Roman nobility, that he may have a soft place in his heart for him, after all. Instead of doing his best to help us kill him he might try to shield him, at a pinch."

"Just what I have been thinking," said Caburus. "I am half in doubt about this enterprise, even now. Agathemer may after all, try to fool me and to shield Commodus, by pointing out some other man to me, at the crucial moment."

"If you suspect him of anything of the kind," said Maternus gently, "just drive your dirk good and far into him and be done with him. I'll be on the lookout for any hanky-panky from Hedulio. If I see the wrong look in his eye or the wrong expression on his face I'll make a quick end of him. I'll tolerate no treachery after oath given and oath taken."

It may easily be imagined how nervous and uncomfortable I felt after hearing this mild, soft-voiced utterance.

My anxiety was accentuated within an hour. Just as I, like the other members of the band, was composing myself to sleep, I heard high words, raised voices, threats, an oath and a yell. With the rest I rushed towards the sounds. There, with the rest, I saw Caulonius Pelops in the agonies of death, a dagger in his heart. One of our Spanish associates had momentarily lost his temper.

Maternus, calm and unruffled, mildly inquired the causes of the quarrel, affirmed his belief in the Spaniard's account, absolved him of all blame and ordered Pelops buried. Then, as if nothing happened, we all composed ourselves to sleep.

I did not sleep much. Evidently, stabbing on small provocation was taken as a matter of course among my present comrades.

At Vulsinii we had a sound sleep at an inn and a bountiful meal at dawn. We needed both before dark, for Maternus marched us the entire twenty- eight miles to Forum Cassii by sunset. I was in as hard condition as any of his band and I stood the long tramp well. Next day we paused for barely an hour, near noon, at Sutrium, and made the twenty-three miles to Baccanae easily. The third day we even more easily made the twenty-one from Baccanae to Rome. Rome, naturally, I approached with emotion. I had gazed back on it from the road to Tibur, certain that I should never again behold it. And I was now about to enter it under most amazing circumstances, as the associate of cutthroats and ruffians, as a sworn member of a conspiracy to assassinate the Prince of the Republic, as the prisoner of a ruthless outlaw, as a suspected associate of a chieftain who might stab me at the slightest false action, motion, word, tone or look.

There is, I think, no view of Rome as one approaches it along the Via Clodia or the Via Flaminia which is as fine as anyone of a score from points on the Via Salaria and Via Tiburtina. But, on a clear, mild, mellow summer afternoon I caught glorious glimpses of the city from the higher points of the road as we neared it. The sight moved me to tears, tears which I was careful to conceal. I could not but note the fulfillment of the prophecy made by the Aemilian Sibyl. I could not but hope that I might survive to see Rome under happier circumstances.

Amid manifold dangers as I was, I was not gloomy. We entered the city by the Flaminian Gate, of course, and, in the waning light, walked boldly the whole length of the Via Lata, diagonally across from the Forum of Trajan, under his Triumphal Arch, through the Forum of Augustus, and across, the Forum of Nerva past the Temple of Minerva and so to the Subura. All the way from the City Gate to the slum district I marvelled at Maternus: he never asked his way, took every turn correctly; and, amid the splendors of Trajan's Forum, behaved like a frequenter, habituated to such magnificence. Equally did he seem at home amid such crowds as he could never have mingled with. He comported himself so as to attract no remark.

As we passed the Temple of Minerva I sighed and remarked that I would give anything short of life itself for a bath.

"You need not give that much; we can bathe for a quadrans, and, since you mention it, we shall all be better for a bath."

"There is no reason why you and the rest should not bathe," I rejoined, ruefully, "but with my back and shoulder a bath is no place for me."

"Pooh!" laughed Maternus, "you grew up in Rome and I never set foot in it till today, yet you know no bath you dare enter, while I can lead you to a bath-house where no one will heed or notice brand-marks or scourge-sears."

It was, in fact, close by and I had the first vapor bath I had enjoyed since leaving Villa Spinella. After we left the bath Maternus bought three cheap little terra-cotta lamps and a small supply of oil.

At the cheaper sort of cook-shop we ate a hearty meal, with plenty of very bad wine. Then we went where, manifestly, arrangements had been made for our lodging, in a seven-story rookery, such as I had never entered and had hardly seen from outside. Its entrance was from the Subura and opened near the middle of one of the long sides of the courtyard, the pavement of which was very uneven from irregular sinking and its many shaped stones much worn. Out in it, at almost equal distances from the ends, the sides and each other, stood two circular curb-walls, each about a yard high; one the well, whence was drawn all the water used by the inmates; the other the sewer-opening, down which went all manner of refuge. The ascent to the upper stories was by an open stone stair in one corner of the court. All round the court was an open arcaded corridor, running behind the stair in its corner. Above it were six similar arcaded galleries, one for each upper floor. The rooms, judging from those into which I looked through open doors, appeared all alike. Ours were floored, walled and roofed with coarse cement, full of small broken stone, and not very smoothly finished. The floors were worn smooth by long use. The only opening to each was the door, over which was a latticed window reaching to the vaulted ceilings of the gallery and room.

Our rooms were on the fourth floor. There were three rooms, each with three canvas cots. Maternus left the six others to dispose themselves as they pleased. He and I took the middle room. Quite as a matter of course he bolted he door, drew his cot across it, and as soon as I had composed myself to sleep, sat on his cot and blew out the little terra-cotta lamp.

Next morning he quite unaffectedly discussed with me what he was to do with me.

"In Rome, anywhere in Rome," he said, "you are likely to be recognized any moment. I took the risk yesterday evening; I had to, I never attempt impossibilities or worry over manifest necessities. But I never run unnecessary risks. The natural thing to do with you is to leave you in this room all day with two of my lads to watch you. I do not want to irritate you, but I see no other way."

"I'll agree to come back here and stay here quietly," I said, "if you will let me go out first for a while with you or any man or men you choose. I want to go to the Temple of Mercury and I want you to give me back enough of my money to buy two white hens to offer to the god."

"You surprise me," he said. "I shouldn't have expected a man of your origin to pay particular attention to gaining the favor of Mercury. He is more in the line of men like me. I am first and always devoted to Mithras, of course. But Mercury comes high up on my list. I've a mind to take the risk, go with you and buy four hens, two for you and two for me."

Actually we went out together shortly after sunrise, down the Subura, through Nerva's Forum, and diagonally across the Forum itself. There I quaked, for fear of being recognized; and marvelled at the coolness of Maternus. He feasted his eyes and mind on the gorgeousness about us, but with such discretion that no one could have conjectured that he was a foreigner, viewing Rome for the first time.

On down the Vicus Tuscus we went into the meat market, where he bought four plump, young, white hens. As we started on with them, each of us carrying two, he asked his first question.

"What building is that?" nodding.

"The Temple of Hercules," I told him.

"I thought so," he said, "they always build his circular. We'll stop in there on our way back. I never miss a chance to ask his help."

Whereas, when I made my offering before my flight the previous year, the street had been deserted, since I passed along it within an hour after sunrise, now it was humming with unsavory life, the eating-stalls under the vaults crowded, throngs about the Babylonian and Egyptian seers who prophesied anyone's future for a copper, tawdry hussies leering before the doors of their dens, unsavory louts chatting with some of them, idlers everywhere. This festering cess-pool of humanity Maternus regarded with disdain and contempt manifest to me, but carefully concealed behind a bland expression.

When we came out of the Temple of Mercury, after making our offering, Maternus whispered:

"Walk very much at ease and as if your mind were as much as possible at peace; two men opposite are watching us."

I assumed my most indifferent air and carefully avoided looking across the street, except for one cautious glance from the lowest step of the Temple. Then I glimpsed, leaning against a pier of the outer arcade of the Circus Maximus, two men wrapped in dingy cloaks, for the morning had been cool. After we were in the Temple of Hercules, Maternus asked:

"Did you recognize them?"

"One I had never seen," I replied. "The other I have seen before, but I do not know who he is nor where I have seen him."

Not until after midnight that night did it suddenly pop into my head that he was the same man whom I had first seen on horseback in the rain on the crossroad above Vediamnum, the man whom Tanno had asserted was a professional informer and accredited Imperial spy, the man who had glanced into Nemestronia's garden and seen me with Egnatius Capito.

After we left the Temple of Hercules I expected him to conduct me back to our lodgings for the day. He never suggested it, but kept me with him, strolling about the central parts of the city as if he had nothing to fear, walking all round the Colosseum and loitering through the Vicus Cyprius, frankly amused at the sights we saw there.

He had no difficulty in finding shops of costumers: on the eve of the Festival they displayed placards calling attention to their wares. The first we entered had no Praetorian uniforms; but, as if the request for them were a matter of course, its proprietor directed us to the shop of a cousin of his who made a specialty of them. There I was amazed that such laxity of law, or of enforcement of law, could possibly exist as would permit such a trade. There was evidently a regular manufacture for this festival of costumes simulating and travestying those of the Imperial Body Guard. We were shown scores of them and the shop had them in a great pile.

The tunics were genuine tunics formerly worn by the actual Praetorian Guards but discarded and sold as worn or faded. There were also many such kilts and corselets and helmets. But as helmets, corselets and even kilts wore out or lost their freshness more slowly than tunics, there were many imitation kilts and corselets of sheepskin painted, and many cheap, light helmets of willow-wood, covered with dogskin. But all these had genuine plumes, as cast-off plumes were even more plentiful than second-hand tunics.

As there was a strict enforcement of the law forbidding the sale, transport, storage or possession of the weapons of any part of the military establishment the shields and swords which went with the costumes were all imitations; flimsy, but astonishingly deceiving to the eye, even at a short distance. The shields were of sheep-skin stretched over an osier frame, but painted outside so as to present the appearance of the genuine Praetorian shields. The baldricks and belts were also of sheep- skin, the scabbards of willow-wood, and the blades of the wooden swords of fig-wood, so as to be completely harmless.

When Maternus proposed to hire twenty-one of these suits the proprietor took it as a customary transaction, inspected and counted twenty-one costumes and stated the charge for hiring them until the day after the Festival. But he also stated that he did not hire costumes except to his regular customers; strangers must not only make a deposit but produce as vouchers two Romans in good standing and well known. Seeing Maternus at a stick he added, easily and at once, that he sold costumes to any purchaser for cash, without question, and agreed to repurchase the same costumes after the Festival at nine denarii for every ten of the sale price, if the costumes were brought back in good condition; if damaged, he would even so repurchase them, but only at their damaged value.

Maternus at once agreed to buy on those terms and, without haggling, accepted the price asked and paid it in gold. He then arranged for porters to carry the costumes where he wanted them. This also was taken as a matter of course.

Followed by the porters we returned to our lodging. Maternus left two porters, with their loads, in the courtyard and with the third porter we climbed three flights of stairs. The porter bestowed his huge pack in my cell and there Maternus left me in charge of three of the men, with orders that two must watch me till he returned. The third was to be at my orders to fetch any eatables or drinkables I wanted; to this man Maternus gave a handful of carefully counted silver coins.

There I remained until next morning, sleeping all the time I could get to sleep and stay asleep; trying not to fret when awake; and by no means displeased with the food and wine brought me.

Maternus slept that night, as the night previous, with his cot across our door.

Next morning he said to me:

"I feel unusually reckless today. I've been thinking the matter over and it seems to me that, on the day of the Festival, there will be thousands of sightseers in dingy cloaks and umbrella hats. I am of the opinion that you will run little risk on the streets anywhere in the poorer quarters of the city. I'm going to take you out with me to see the fun. We'll keep far away from where Caburus and Cossedo and their helpers are to take their stands. We'll see the morning fun and then eat a hearty meal and sleep all the afternoon."

Out we sallied, I and one varlet in our travelling outfit, Maternus and six more habited as imitation Praetorians. Two of the ruffians had a pretty taste in drollery and amused the crowd with buffooneries. Strange to say the crowds seemed to think that they travestied Praetorians to a nicety whereas neither had ever set eyes on a Praetorian and their antics were the product of mere innate whimsicality.

I found the procession really interesting, with its various wonders and marvels. I had never been in Rome at the time of the Feast of Cybele, which was, of all the Festivals of the Gods, peculiarly the poor man's frolic. And I had always wondered how it was possible so to tame and train two healthy full-grown male lions as to have them draw a chariot with Demeter's statue through miles of crowded streets. After seeing them pass I concluded that they were dazed by the glare, the crowds and the noise, and too cowed to be dangerous.

At the license in the streets I was amazed. I saw a dozen men, each attired as Prefect of the Palace; a score of loose women dressed in an unmistakable imitation of the Empress, consuls by scores and similar counterfeits of every honored official or acclaimed individual. In particular, every corner had a laborious presentation of Murmex Lucro, the most popular gladiator in Rome. Almost equally frequent were presentments of Agilius Septentrio, the celebrated pantomimist; and of Palus, champion charioteer.

And I saw, amid roars of laughter, jeers, cat-calls and plaudits, no less than three different roisterers got up, cautiously and in inexpensive stuffs, but recognizably, as caricatures of the Emperor himself; not, of course, in his official robes, but in such garments as he wore in his sporting hours. These audacious merrymakers were ignored by the police and military guards.

Not long after noon Maternus declared that he had had enough. We ate at a decidedly good cook-shop, where we had excellent food and good medium wine. When I waked near sunset Maternus reported that he had slept all the afternoon: certainly I had.

He then explained to me that he was to make his attempt in the Gardens of Lucius Verus, where Commodus had this year decreed the torchlight procession. He was again entirely frank.

"Your part," he said, "will be merely to point out Commodus to me. If I decide not to make any attempt on him I shall expect you to return here with me and abide by whatever decision our association makes at its next meeting: I cannot foresee whether they will vote to disband or to plan another venture. If I make my attempt, and I think I shall, for, apparently, both Caburus and Cossedo have blenched or failed, since no rumors of any excitement have reached us, you will be free the moment you see me stab Commodus. You must then look out for yourself and fend for yourself: you and I are never to meet again unless by some unimaginable series of miracles."

And he gave me four silver pieces, saying:

"This will keep you in food for a long time, if you are sparing. Good luck!"

Then, habited as in the morning, we sallied out, and ate at a cook-shop we had never before entered, which was full of revellers dressed as votaries of Isis, as Egyptians, as cut-laws, as Arabians, as anything and everything. And as we crossed the city on our way to the Aelian Bridge, as we were passing through a better part of it, I was struck with the craziness of the costumes, many imitating every imaginable style of garb: Gallic, Spanish, Moorish, Syrian, Persian, Lydian, Thracian, Scythian and many more; but many also devised according to no style that ever existed, but invented by the wearers, in a mad competition to don the most fantastic and bizarre garb imagination could suggest.

In the torchlit gardens I perceived at once that it would be very easy for Maternus to edge close to the actual bodyguard, mingle with them, pass himself off as one, get near the Emperor and make a rush at him. He had chosen a spot where the procession was to circle thrice about a great statue of Cybele set up for that occasion on a temporary base in the middle of a round grass-plot. His idea was that I was to point out Commodus to him on the first round and he to consider the disposition of the participants in the procession and make his attempt on the second or third round.

Standing, as we did, in the front row of a mass of revellers packed as spectators along the incurved outer rim of the ring, we had a surpassingly good view of the procession as it entered the circle. There were various bands of votaries and then six eunuch priests, their faces whitened with flour, their garb a flowing robe of light vivid yellow, convoying a brace of panthers, pacing as sedately as the brace of lions in the morning procession, drawing a light chariot in which sat a diademed, robed and garlanded image of Cybele, very gaudy and garish. Behind the chariot paced two priests of Cybele, not Phrygian Eunuchs, but Roman officials, in their pontifical robes, a pair of dignified old senators, ex-consuls both, Vitrasius Pollio and Flavius Aper, full of self-importance. Then came the Chief Priest, tall, full-bearded, swarthy, his robes a blaze of gold and jewels, pacing solemnly, on either side of him, as assistant priest, a young Roman nobleman, chosen from the college of the Pontiffs of Cybele, habited in very gorgeous robes. One was Marcus Octavius Vindex, son of the ex-consul, a very handsome young man; the other, to my amazement, Talponius Pulto.

At sight of my life-long enemy who had always rebuffed my overtures towards the establishment of courteous relations between us, who had insulted me a thousand times, who had sponsored the informer whose insinuations had caused my downfall, revengeful rage and self- congratulation at my opportunity filled me.

For, between the two pompous old senators and this dignified, showy and impressive trio, capered a score of eunuch priests clashing cymbals and among them Commodus also clashing cymbals and amazingly garbed. I have never been able to conjecture how his headgear was managed. He had a band round his forehead and from that band rose a sphere of some light material, apparently a framework of whalebone covered with silk, a sphere fully a yard in diameter, all gleaming with the sheen of silk, and white with an unsurpassable whiteness. His robe, or tunic or whatever it was, was of the same or a similar glossy white silk. Round his neck was a golden collar, and gold anklets of a similar pattern clanked on his ankles. From the links or bosses of the collar to the links or bosses of the anklets streamed silken ribbons of the same intense light yellow we had seen in the robes of the panther-keepers. Two of the eunuch priests fanned him with peacock feather fans, so that the ribbons fluttered and shimmered in the torchlight. He wore soft shoes or slippers of the same vivid yellow. Clashing his cymbals he shrieked and capered with the eunuch priests.

I was more than shocked to see the Prince of the Republic so degrade himself, to see him exhibit the acme of the craze for devising unimaginably fantastic costumes for this Festival.

Besides being shocked, I was terrified, even numb with terror. I knew that Maternus would never believe me if I indicated this gaping zany and asserted that it was our Emperor: yet Maternus had such an uncanny power of interpreting the expression of face of any interlocutor that I dreaded to tell him anything save the exact truth. I was in a dilemma, equally afraid to tell the truth, for fear the improbability of it would infuriate Maternus and convince him of my treachery; or to take the obvious course, for fear some subtle shade of my tone or look might similarly impel him to stab me.

As the convoy passed Maternus whispered, softly and unhurriedly:

"Which is he?"

In my panic I chose the less dangerous alternative. Pulto was by far the most Imperial figure in the throng; his great height, the fine poise of his head, his royal bearing, his regal expression, his stately port, all contributed to make him dominate the assemblage. I felt that Maternus might believe him Commodus and could never believe Commodus an Emperor or even a noble.

I indicated Pulto, haughty, dignified, handsome and magnificently habited.

Maternus, apparently, believed me implicitly.

He whispered again.

"I am sure to get him when they come round again. Watch for my blow. If I land or if I am seized, fend for yourself. Good luck and Mercury be good to both of us. Farewell."

As the procession came round again I could hear my heart thump; but, to my gaze, Maternus, handsome in his imitation Praetorian uniform, appeared the personification of calmness.

When again the Imperial zany and his fan-bearers and posturing eunuchs had passed us and the High Priest and his Acolytes were opposite us, Maternus slipped forward between two of the Praetorians of the escort.

At that instant I felt a grip on my arm and Agathemer's voice whispered:

"Come!"

Together we slunk back into the crowd, and when the yell arose behind us, presumably at sight of Pulto slaughtered by Maternus, we were well clear of the press and in the act of darting into the shrubbery. In fact we got clear away unpursued, unmolested, unhindered.



CHAPTER XVIII

GALLOPING

As the Gardens of Verus are north of the Tiber we had no difficulty whatever in casting a wide circuit to the left and coming out on the Aurelian Highway. All the way to it we had met no one; on it we met no one. After striking the highway we walked along it as fast as we dared. We should have liked to run a mile or two, but we were careful to comport ourselves as wayfarers and not act so as to appear fugitives. The night was overcast and pitch dark. We must have walked fully four miles, which is about one third of the way to Loria.

Then, being tired and with no reason whatever for going anywhere in particular, we sat down to rest on the projecting base-course of a pretentious tomb of great size but much neglected. It was so dilapidated, in fact, that Agathemer, feeling about by where he sat, found an aperture big enough for us to crawl into. It began to rain and we investigated the opening. Apparently this huge tomb had been hastily built by dishonest contractors, for here, low down, where the substructure should have been as durable and solid as possible, they had cheapened the wall by inserting some of those big earthenware jars which are universally built into the upper parts of high walls to lighten the construction. A slab of the external shell of gaudy marbles had fallen out, leaving an aperture nearly as big as the neck of the great jar.

As the rain increased to a downpour we wriggled and squirmed through the hole, barely squeezing ourselves in, and found the jar a bit dusty but dry and comfortable. We wrapped ourselves in our cloaks, rejoicing to be out of the torrent of water which now descended from the sky. Also we composed ourselves to sleep, if we could.

We discussed our situation. We had our tunics, cloaks, umbrella hats and road shoes, but no staffs, wallets or extras. Agathemer mourned for his flageolet. Between us we had seven silver denarii and a handful of coppers; Maternus had given Agathemer four denarii, as he had me, but early in the day, and he had broken one to buy two meals.

He said that Caburus had either feared to make an attempt on Commodus, or judged that no opportunity presented itself. Of Cossedo he knew no more than I. Caburus had turned him over to two ruffians to watch and he had eluded them in the crowds and made his way to the Gardens of Verus expressly to find me, if possible, and help me to escape.

He said that our coins could not be made to last any length of time. Nor could we well beg our way so near the city. Our store of gems in our amulet-bags was of no use, because, as he said, he was personally known to every gem-expert in Rome. Perusia was the nearest town to northward where he might hope to find prompt secret buyers for gems of dubious ownership; Perusia was far beyond the reach of two footfarers, without wallets and with only seven denarii.

We argued that, whatever happened, the wisest course was to get some sleep. Agathemer declared that we could fast over next day and night, if necessary, and that we had best keep in our hole till next night, anyhow. I acceded and we went to sleep.

We were waked by loud voices in altercation. The sky had cleared, the late moon was half way up, and we conjectured that the time was about midway between midnight and dawn, the time when all roads are most deserted.

Close to us, plain in the brilliant moonlight, were two stocky men on roan or bay horses. The moonlight was bright enough to make it certain that they were wearing the garb of Imperial couriers. The trappings of their horses, frontlets, saddle cloths, saddle bags and all suited their attire.

But their actions, words, accents and everything about them was most discordant with their horses and equipment.

Both were so drunk that they could just stick on their stationary and impassive mounts, so drunk that they talked thickly. And they were disputing and arguing and wrangling with their voices raised almost to a shout. Thickly as they talked, we had listened to them but a few moments when we were sure that they were low-class highwaymen who had robbed two Imperial couriers, tied and gagged them, changed clothes with them and ridden off on their horses, but had stopped to drink, raw and unmixed, the couriers' overgenerous supply of heady wine; two kid-skins, by their utterances. Now they were reviling each other, each claiming a larger proportion of the coins than he had.

Here was a present from Mercury, indeed. It was a matter of no difficulty to crawl out of our hole, to approach Carex and Junco, as they called each other, to pluck their daggers from their sheaths and to render the highwaymen harmless, to pull them from their saddles, tie their hands with the lashings of their saddle-bags and to gag them with strips torn from their tunics; for they were too drunk to know that they were being attacked; so drunk that each, as we dragged him from his horse, fancied that the other was assaulting him and expostulated at such unfair behavior on the part of a pal. So drunk were they that both were snoring before we tied their feet with more strips torn from their tunics.

Like sacks we hauled them out of the moonlight, into the shadow of the tomb and then stripped them except of their tunics, fitted on ourselves the accoutrements they had stolen, and thrust them, trussed, gagged, snoring and helpless, into the hole where we had taken shelter.

On horseback we rode like couriers, full gallop, passed Loria before the first hint of dawn showed through the moonlight and, about half way between Fregena and Alsium turned aside into a lovely little grove about an old shrine of Ops Consiva, a grove whose beauty and the openness of whose tree-embowered, grass-carpeted spaces was plain even by the moonlight.

As soon as it was light enough to see we took stock of our windfall. The horses were both bays and of the finest; their trappings new and in perfect condition. Our attire was made up of the best horsemen's boots, a trifle too large for us, but not enough to be so noticeable as to betray us, or even enough to make us uncomfortable; of horsemen's long rain- cloaks and of excellent umbrella hats, all of the regulation material, design and color. In the saddle-bags were excellent blankets, our despatches, legibly endorsed with the name, Munatius Plancus, of the official at Marseilles to whom we were to deliver them; and our credentials, entitling us to all possible assistance from all men and to fresh horses at all change-houses. From these diplomas we learned that our names were Sabinus Felix and Bruttius Asper.

This crowned our luck. We crowed with glee over the unimaginably helpful coincidence that these diplomas should be made out for couriers with the very names which we had chosen at haphazard at the commencement of our flight and had been using to each other ever since.

The provision of cash was ample: besides plenty of silver there was more than enough gold to have carried us all the way to Marseilles, on the most lavish scale of expenditure, without resorting to our credentials to get us fresh horses.

We ate liberally of the couriers' generous provision of bread, cheese, sausage, olives and figs; well content to quench our thirst at the spring by the shrine. Then we muffled ourselves in our cloaks, tightened the straps of our umbrella hats, jammed them down on our heads, pulled the brims over our faces, mounted and set off, elated, sure of ourselves, well fed, well clad, well horsed, opulent, accredited, gay.

As couriers vary in their theories of horse-husbanding and in their practice of riding, we had a wide choice, and elected to get every mile we could out of these fine horses and not change until as far as possible from Rome. We found their most natural lope and, pausing to drink and to water them sparingly at the loneliest springs we descried, we pressed on through or past the Towers, Pyrgos, and Castrum Novum to Centumcellae. That was all of forty-one miles from the shrine of Ops Consiva and full fifty from Rome, but, partly because we had to spare ourselves, as we had not been astride of a horse since we crawled through the drain at Villa Andivia, we so humored our horses that we arrived in a condition which the ostler took as a matter of course, and it was then not quite noon, which we both considered a feat of horsemanship.

At Centumcellae we ate liberally and enjoyed the inn's excellent wine. Also we set off on strong horses. From there only the danger of getting saddle-sick after our long disuse of horses and the certainty of getting saddle-sore, as we did, restrained us. We tore on through Martha, Forum Aurelii, and a nameless change-house, spurring and lashing as much as we dared, for we dared not disable ourselves with blisters, changing at each halt and getting splendid horses, our diplomas unquestioned. Thus at dusk we reached Cosa, forty-nine miles from Centumcellae and a hundred and nine miles from Rome.

We dreaded that we should wake too sore to ride, perhaps too sore to mount, perhaps even too sore to get out of bed. But, while stiff and in great pain, we managed to breakfast and get away.

That day we, perforce, rode with less abandon, though we both felt less discomfort after we warmed to the saddle. We nooned at Rosellae, thirty- three miles on, and slept at Vada, the port of Volaterrae, fifty-six miles further, a day of eighty miles. Next day we were, if anything, yet sorer and stiffer, certainly we were less frightened. So we took it easier, nooning at Pisa, thirty miles on, and sleeping at Luna, thirty-five further, a day of only sixty-five miles, rather too little for Imperial couriers. Our third morning we woke feeling hardened and fit: we made thirty-nine miles before noon and ate at Bodetia; from there we pushed on forty-five miles to Genoa, an eighty-four mile day, more in character.

At Genoa we were for taking the coast road. We were all for haste. We had ridden amazingly well for men who had not been astride of a horse for nearly a year; we had ridden fairly well for Imperial couriers; but we had not ridden fast enough to suit ourselves. From Cosa onward we had been haunted by the same dread. We had imagined the real Bruttius Asper and Sabinus Felix reporting their loss of everything save their tunics, we imagined the hue and cry after us, the most capable men in the secret service, riding fit to kill their horses on our trail. At Cosa, at Vada, at Luna we had waked dreading to find the avengers up with us and ourselves prisoners; at Rosellae, at Pisa, at Bodetia, we had eaten with one eye on the door, expecting every instant to see our pursuers enter; so at every change-station, while our trappings were taken from our weary cattle and girthed on fresh mounts. So we were for the coast road as shortest.

But the innkeeper, who was also manager of the change-stables, told us that between Genoa and Vada Sabatia the road was blocked by landslides, washouts and the destruction of at least three bridges by freshets. He advised us to take the carriage-road by Dertona, the Mineral Springs, Crixia and Canalicum. But we thought of the pursuers thundering after us and anyhow we wanted none of Dertona, recalling our encounter with Gratillus at Placentia. We took the coast road, and, though we had to ford two streams and swam our horses over one, although we had to slide down slopes and toil up others afoot, leading our horses after us, although a full third of the road was mere rough track, like a wild mountain trail, though the distance was all of forty-five miles, yet we slept at Vada Sabatia, very thankful to have done in one day what would have taken us at least three by the hundred and fifty-one mile mountain-detour through Dertona, and still more thankful for the lonely safety of the coast road.

From Vada Sabatia the coast road was better, but still far from easy. We were well content to noon at a tiny change-house between Albingaunum and Albintimilium and to sleep at Lumo, seventy-seven miles on. Next morning early, only six miles from Lumo, but six miles of hard climbing up a twisty, rock-cut road, we came out at its crest, where there is a wonderful view up and down the coast and out southwards to sea, and there passed the boundary of Italy and entered Gaul. That night we slept at Matavonium, eighty-four miles forward and but seventy-four miles from Marseilles.

So far we had had no adventures, had been accepted without question everywhere, had seen no look of suspicion from anyone, had encountered no other couriers, except those whom we met and passed on the road, we and they lashing, spurring and hallooing, each party barely visible to the other through the cloud of dust both raised.

On that day, our eighth out from Rome, at noon at Tegulata, we had adventure enough.

The common room of the inn was low-ceiled, I could have jumped and touched the carved beams with my hand. But it was very large indeed, something like thirty yards long and fully twenty yards wide, with two Tuscan columns about ten yards apart in the middle of it, supporting the seven great beams, smoke-blackened till their carving was blurred, on which the ceiling-joists were laid. The floor was of some dark, smooth-grained stone, polished by the feet which had trod it for generations; there were six wide-latticed windows, and, opposite the door, a great fire-place, with an ample chimney above and four bronze cranes for pots or roasts. Each arm had several chains and actually, when we entered, four pots were boiling, and a kid was roasting over the cunningly bedded fire of clear red coals, the fresh caught wood at the back, where the smoke would not disflavor the roasting meat. It was the most civilized inn we had entered on our post-ride and spoke of the nearness of Marseilles, though every detail of its construction, furnishings and methods was Gallic, not Greek.

Unlike our inns, where the drink and food is set on low, round-topped, one-legged, three-footed tables, about which are placed the backless stools or low-backed, wooden-seated chairs on which the customers sit, it had, Gallic fashion, big, heavy-topped, high-set, rectangular, six-legged tables with benches along their long sides, others with chairs, like those at the ends of every table; solid, high-backed chairs, comfortable for the guests, whose knees were well under the high-topped, solid-legged tables.

Agathemer and I took seats at the table in the far corner to the right of the door; only two of the five were occupied, and they by but two at each; plainly local customers. We told the host that we were in haste and asked for whatever fare he had ready. He brought us an excellent stew of fowl, with bread and wine and recommended that we wait till he had broiled some sea-fish, saying they were small but toothsome, fresh-caught and would be ready in a few moments. The fish tempted us, and, so near Marseilles, we felt no hurry at all, for we meant to loiter on the road and pass the gate about an hour before sunset, calculating that the later in the day we arrived the better chance we had of delivering our despatches, as we must, without being exposed as not the men we passed for, and of somehow disembarrassing ourselves of our accoutrements and donning ordinary attire bought at some cheap shop.

As we sat, tasting the eggs, shrimps, and such like relishes before attacking the stew, which was too hot as yet, there entered two men in the attire of Imperial couriers. Agathemer kept his face, but I am sure I turned pale. I expected, of course, that they would walk over to our table, greet us, ask our names, and like as not turn out intimates of Bruttius Asper and Sabinus Felix, so that we would be exposed then and there.

But they merely saluted, perfunctorily, and took seats at the table nearest the door on their left, diagonally the whole space of the room from us. Agathemer and I returned their salute as precisely as we could imitate it, thankful that they had saluted, so as to let us see what the couriers' salute was, for we had felt much anxiety all along the road, since neither of us, often as we had seen it, could recall it well enough to be sure of giving it properly, if we met genuine couriers, or, terrible thought, encountered an inspector making sure that the service was all it should be and on the outlook for irregularities.

The moment they were at the table they bawled for instant service, urged the host, reviled the slaves, fell on their food like wolves, eating greedily and hurriedly and guzzling their wine. We could catch most of their orders, but of their almost equally loud conversation, since they talked with their mouths full, we caught only the words "Dertona" and "Crixia"; these comforted us; either they had left Rome before us and we had overtaken them, or they came from Ancona or somewhere on the road from Ancona to Dertona or more likely from Aquileia, or somewhere on the road from it, or perhaps even from beyond it.

They disposed of relishes, boiling stew, a mountain of bread, and a lake of wine, besides olives and fruit, in an incredibly short time, and then, again perfunctorily saluting us, rushed out.

Our fish had just been served and were as good as prophesied. A moment after the exit of the couriers there entered a plump, pompous individual, every line of whose person and attire advertised him a local dandy, while every lineament and expression of his face, his every attitude and movement, equally proclaimed him a busybody.

He walked straight to our table, bowed to us and nodded to one of the slave-waiters, who instantly and obsequiously vanished. Our new table- companion at once entered into conversation with us, speaking civilly, but with an irritating self-sufficiency.

"Gentlemen," he said, "I am acquainted with many of your calling who pass through here, but I do not recall having ever seen you before. My estates are near Tegulata and I am chiefly concerned with wine-growing. My wines, indeed, are reckoned the best between Baeterrae and Verona. My name is Valerius Donnotaurus; may I know yours?"

I kept my eyes on his face as I introduced Agathemer as Bruttius Asper and he me as Sabinus Felix. It seemed to me that his expression was not altogether free from a momentary gleam of suspicion; but my anxiety might have seen what was not there, I could not be sure. At any rate he bowed politely, asked me whence we came, when we had left Rome, and the latest news. He commended our speed and our having overcome the difficulties of the coast road between Genoa and Vada Sabatia.

The waiter, according to some subtle characteristic of his nod, brought wine for three, which he assured us was wine from his estates, though not his best, yet worth trying, and he invited us to drink with him. We could not well refuse and we were glad to be able to praise the wine, which, for Gallic wine, was really not so bad. Before we had finished our fish he excused himself and went out.

We dallied with our food, counting on giving the two couriers time to get away before we came out into the courtyard. But we learned afterwards that, as we had shown our credentials and ordered fresh horses before we entered the inn, the change-master would not give them the two best horses which he was holding ready for us and had in the yard no other horses. They had demanded our fresh horses, cursed him and blustered, but could not move him and so were still berating him when Donnotaurus came out to them. He, after introducing himself, asking their names and route and, commiserating them on the poor supply of horses, had casually inquired whether they were acquainted with two couriers named Bruttius Asper and Sabinus Felix. On their answering that they knew both of them he had chatted a while longer and then asked them to reenter with him the inn's common-room, alleging that they could assist him on an important matter touching the service of the Emperor. According to the change-master, who told us all this later, they had complied in a hesitating and unwilling manner, as if numb and bewildered.

We, dallying over some excellent fruit and the not unpalatable wine, knowing nothing of all this, saw the three reenter together and approach us, the couriers looking not only reluctant, but dazed: up to us Donnotaurus led them.

"Do you know these gentlemen?" he demanded.

"Never set eyes on them in my life," one of them disclaimed. The other nodded.

"I thought so!" Donnotaurus cried. "These men claim to be Bruttius Asper and Sabinus Felix. You say you know Bruttius Asper and Sabinus Felix. You do not know these men. Therefore they are passing under false names. They are not Imperial couriers, but some of the scoundrels who have been posing as Imperial couriers and using the post-roads for their own private ends. I thank you for assisting me to expose them. It now remains to arrest them!"

I had thought when the two entered first and saluted us that their expression of face was queer; now it was queerer: they looked like some of the deer we had seen in the net-pocket at Spinella, frantic to escape and seeing no way out.

One mumbled something about having barely seen Bruttius Asper and Sabinus Felix and not being sure that we were not they. But Donnotaurus neither heard nor heeded.

"Here, Tectosax!" he called to the host, "come help us arrest these men! They are bogus! They are shams! They are not couriers!"

"One man arrest two!" the host demurred.

"I only want your help," Donnotaurus bawled. "Call Arecomus and the ostlers. They can make short work of it."

At this point Agathemer found his voice, and he spoke steadily, coolly and firmly, even with a bit of a drawl.

"Don't do anything you will have to be sorry for," he said. "Better not make any mistake."

At his utterance the two couriers were manifestly even more uncomfortable than before. But Donnotaurus only bawled louder to the host.

"I don't arrest travellers," the host protested, "I feed 'em. Arecomus don't arrest travellers, he horses 'em. Anyhow, there's no magistrate here; talking of arresting is folly.

"And I wish you'd quit your foolishness, Donnotaurus. This is the third row you've started here within six months. You're giving my inn a bad name and ruining my trade. You're my best customer, yourself, but you are more nuisance than all the rest of my customers put together. I'd rather you'd move out of the neighborhood or keep away from my inn than go on with such nonsense. I don't want anybody arrested on my premises or threatened with arrest. And you've nothing to go on in this case, anyhow."