Beric the Briton by G. A. Henty (page 5)

“That is one of the public granaries. Corn is brought here in vast quantities from Sardinia and Sicily, from Spain and Africa, and since Nero came to the throne it is distributed gratis to all who choose to apply for it. No wonder Nero is popular among the people; he feeds them and gives them shows–they want nothing more. It is nothing to them, the cruelties he exercises upon the rich.”

“But it must encourage the people in lazy habits,” Beric said.

Pollio shrugged his shoulders. “They think because they are citizens of the capital of the world they have a right to live in idleness, and that others should work for them. At any rate it keeps them in a good temper. There have been great tumults in Rome in past times, but by drawing the tribute in corn and distributing it freely here Nero keeps them in a high state of contentment.”

“You don’t like Nero, Pollio?”

“I hate him,” Pollio said. “He is a tyrant–greedy, cruel, and licentious. He had his own mother murdered because she opposed his plans, and some of our best and noblest citizens have been put to death, either because Nero was jealous of their popularity, or because he desired to grasp their possessions. It is horrible that Rome, which has conquered the world, should lie prostrate at the feet of a creature like this. It was because my father feared that some spy among the slaves might report what I said about Nero that caused him to send me out to Suetonius, who is a connection of our family, and he will ere long obtain for me some other employment away from the capital. I shall be glad to be gone, the atmosphere here seems to stifle one. Nero’s spies are everywhere, and a man is afraid of speaking his thoughts even in his own house. I like to take life easily, but I would rather be battling with your people in the swamps than living in idleness in Rome.”

“I thought you were glad to return, Pollio?”

“I thought I should be, Beric, but I suppose the active life in Britain has spoilt me. I used to scent my hair and lounge in the baths, and frequent the shows, and lead just such a life as the young men we have spoken to this afternoon, and I was contented with it. I wonder at myself now, but I cannot take up the old life where I left it. I have been back for twenty-four hours, and I am restless already and am longing to be doing something.”

“I should think,” Beric said with a smile, “that you might well put up with Rome for a few weeks. It seems to me that it will take years to know all its wonders. There are the great libraries, too, filled with the manuscripts, and as you understand Greek you could study the writings of the sages and philosophers.”

“I would rather row in the galleys,” Pollio said. “I don’t mind an hour or two now and then with the historians, but the philosophers are too deep for my shallow brain. Would you like to look into a library now?”

Beric assented eagerly, and they entered one of these buildings. It consisted of a great hall with innumerable couches and benches for readers. Round the walls were pigeonholes, in which the manuscripts were deposited, and numerous attendants moved to and fro among the readers, supplying them with such manuscripts as they desired, and taking away those they had done with. Leaving the hall they passed through a series of large apartments, in which hundreds of men were at work copying manuscripts.

“These are scribes,” Pollio said. “Very many of them are slaves whom the owners allow to work here, sharing with them their earnings; others are freedmen who have either purchased their liberty from their savings, or have been manumitted by their owners. You see many of the most popular writings, such as those of Caesar, Tacitus, Livy, or the poets Horace, Virgil, and Ovid, are constantly in demand, and scores of copies must be kept on hand. Then again many of the Greek authors are greatly in request. The manuscripts wear out and must be replaced, so that at the various libraries there are some thousands of scribes always kept employed. You see among the scribes men of many nationalities. Those men, for instance, are Egyptians. You see the rolls they are copying, they are made of papyrus, which is got, as I have heard my uncle say, from the leaf of a sort of water plant. Some of them are copying these writings on to vellum for the use of those who understand the Egyptian language, others are translating them into Latin. Those men are Persians, and those at the tables near them are Jews. They are making translations of their sacred books, which are much read at present, partly owing to the fact that the people are troublesome, and probably an army will have to be sent against them, partly because of the Christian sect, whose doctrines are founded upon the Jewish sacred books, and are supported, as they claim, by various prognostications of their augurs, or, as they call them, prophets. The books, therefore, are of interest to the learned, and it may be that some who come here to read them are secretly disciples of the sect.”

“Can I come here and read?” Beric asked eagerly.

“Certainly you can, these libraries are open to all. So are the baths, at least the greater portion of them; everything is free here. But it is nearly time for us now to be going home.”

Beric availed himself at once of the advantages offered by the public libraries. It was only thus that men of moderate means could in those days obtain access to books, for the cost of manuscripts was considerable, and libraries were only to be found in the houses of the wealthy. His taste for reading was a matter of astonishment among the gladiators, and was the subject of a good deal of jesting. This, however, was for the most part of a good natured kind, but upon the part of one named Lupus it was sneering and offensive.

This man, who was a professional gladiator, that is one of those who had taken to it as a trade, was a Roman of unusual stature and strength. He had been a worker in iron, and from making arms took to their use. He had won many victories in the arena, and was considered the champion of the school of Scopus, the only man who approached him in the number of victories being Porus, the Scythian, whose strong point, however, lay in his activity and his dexterity in throwing the net rather than in strength. Lupus had, from the first day of the Britons’ arrival at the ludus, viewed them with aversion, his hostility to Beric being especially marked, and he particularly objected to the slight deference shown to him by his companions, in spite of the protests of Beric himself, who in vain pointed out to them that he was now no longer their chief, and that they were in all respects comrades and equals.

Lupus had carefully abstained from any remarks that would bring him into collision with the other Britons. Mortified as he was that his strength and stature, of which he was very proud, had been thrown into the shade by that of the newcomers, he felt that in a quarrel their rough strength might render them more than his match. Beric, however, he considered as but a youth, and though doubtless powerful, deemed that his muscles would be no match for his own seasoned strength. As yet he had not seen Beric tried with any arms, and thought that the young barbarian could know nothing of the management of weapons. At first his annoyance only took the form of addressing him with an affected deference as “my lord Beric;” but the discovery that, while he himself was unable to read or write, the young Briton was fond of study, and spent his spare time in the public libraries, afforded him opportunities for constant sneers.

These Beric took in good part, but Boduoc, who had now picked up enough Latin to understand the gist of his remarks, one day intervened, and seizing Lupus by the shoulder dashed him to the ground. The Roman sprang to his feet, caught up a knife from the table, and rushed at Boduoc. Scopus, however, who was present, with an angry growl sprang upon him, seizing him by the throat with so vigorous a grasp that his face became purple, his eyes stared, and he in vain gasped for breath. Then he flung him down into a corner of the room with such force that he lay half stunned.

“You dog,” he exclaimed, “how dare you take a knife? I will have no quarrels here, as you know; and if you again venture on a disturbance I will bid your comrades tie you up, and will flay the skin off your back with the lash. The Briton was perfectly right. Why can’t you leave his friend alone? I have marked your ill natured jests before, and am glad that he punished you.”

Lupus rose slowly to his feet with an angry glare in his eyes. He knew, however, that Scopus had in his time been unrivalled in the arena, and that, moreover, the rest, who had been offended by his airs of superiority, would side with the lanista against him.

“I said nothing to the Briton,” he said; “it was the boy I addressed. If it was an offence, why did he not take it up? Is he a coward that others have to fight his battles? If he is offended, why does he not challenge me to fight, as is customary in all the ludi?”

“Because he is as yet but a pupil, and will not be fit to enter the arena for three or four years,” Scopus said. “A fight can only be between trained gladiators. You don’t suppose that a fresh joined youth is going to fight with one who has won a score of times in the arena?”

“Excuse me, Scopus,” Beric said quietly, “I am perfectly ready to fight with this braggadocio, and challenge him to a contest; a few hard knocks will do neither of us any harm, therefore let us go into the school and have it out. It is much better so than to have perpetual quarrelling.”

Scopus would have objected, but the gladiators broke into shouts of “A fight! a fight!” and, as it was according to the rules of all the ludi that quarrels should be fought out with wooden swords without interference by the lanistae, he simply shrugged his shoulders.

“Well, as he has challenged you, Lupus, I have nothing to say to it;” and the whole of those present at once adjourned to the school.

The combatants were armed with bucklers and with swords of the same weight to those ordinarily used, but with square edges with the corners rounded off, so that though they would give a heavy blow they would not cut.

Lupus, confident in his skill, and furious at the humiliation he had just suffered, at once sprang upon Beric, but the latter as nimbly leaped back, catching the blow on his buckler, and at the same time bringing his own with such force and weight upon the Roman’s left shoulder that it brought him for a moment on his knee. A shout of astonishment and applause burst from the lookers on. Lupus would have instantly renewed the fight, but Beric stepped back and lowered his sword.

“Your left arm is disabled,” he said. “You had best wait till you can use your buckler again; it would not be a fair match now.”

Furious as he was, Lupus felt the truth of what his opponent said, and though the burst of applause at Beric’s magnanimity angered him even more than before, he drew back a step or two. At the order of Scopus two of the others came forward with some oil, with which for some minutes they kneaded his shoulder.

“I am ready again,” he said at last, and the gladiators drew back, and the opponents faced each other. Lupus had learned that Beric was not, as he had supposed, entirely untaught; but although he attributed the blow he had received solely to his own rashness, he renewed the conflict with the same care and prudence he would have shown had he been fighting with edged weapons in the arena. He soon found, however, that he had met with an opponent differing widely from those he had hitherto fought. Beric had had excellent teachers among the veteran legionaries at Camalodunum, and to skill in the sword he added a prodigious activity. Instead of fighting in the ordinary Roman method, standing firm, with the body bent forward and the buckler stretched out at the level of the shoulder in front of him, he stood lightly poised on his feet, ready to spring forward or back, and with his shield across his body.

In vain Lupus tried to get to close quarters. His cramped attitude prevented rapid movement, and he could not get even within striking distance of his opponent save when the latter sprang in to deliver a blow. These, however, fell vainly, for Lupus was fighting now calmly and warily, and with sword or shield guarded every blow aimed at him. Beric soon felt that he should but exhaust himself did he continue to attack in this fashion, and presently desisted, and standing his ground awaited the attack of Lupus. The blows fell fast and heavy now. Then Beric purposely lowered his buckler a moment; Lupus instantly struck, springing a pace forward. Beric sharply threw up his left arm, striking up the hand of Lupus as it fell, and at the same moment brought his weapon with tremendous force down upon the head of his antagonist, who fell as if killed.

“Habet, habet!” shouted the gladiators, alike exultant and astonished at the defeat of the bully of the school.

“By the gods, Beric,” Scopus said, “you have given him a lesson. I talked abut four years’ training, but even now I would send you into the arena without fear. Why, there are but one or two gladiators who are considered the superior of Lupus with the sword, and he had from the first no chance with you.”

“It was simply because he did not understand my way of fighting,” Beric said quietly. “No, Scopus, I will have the four years’ training before I fight. I have chanced to overcome Lupus this time, but I am not going to match myself against men until I have my full strength.”

Scopus laughed. “That looks as if there was strength enough in your arm, Beric,” he said pointing to the prostrate figure. “However, I know from what you have said that you wish to put off your entry into the arena as long as possible, and doubtless practice and teaching will render you a far better swordsman than you are now. Take him away,” he said to the others, pointing to Lupus. “Dash cold water over him till he comes round, and then bandage his head. I doubt if his skull be not broken. One of you had better go for a leech to examine him; and mind, let not a word be breathed outside the school as to this contest. We will keep it silent until it is time for Beric to enter the arena, and then we shall be dull indeed if we do not lay bets enough on him to keep us in wine for a year. There is no fear of Lupus himself saying a word about it. You may be sure that, roughly shaken as his conceit may be, he will hold his tongue as to the fact that he has found his master in what he was pleased to call a boy. Mind, if I ever hear a word spoken outside the school on the subject, I will make it my business to find out who spread the report, and it will be very bad for the man who did it when I bring it home to him.”

It was upwards of a week before Lupus was able to enter the gymnasium again. Beric had particularly requested the others to make no allusion to his discomfiture, but from that time the superiority of Lupus was gone, and Beric’s position in the school was fully established.

CHAPTER XIII: A CHRISTIAN

While Beric thus spent his time between his exercises and the schools and one or other of the libraries, varied occasionally by paying a visit with Pollio, Boduoc and his companions were not ill contented with their life. Most of them had, during the long journey through Gaul, picked up a few words of Latin from their guards, and as it was the language of the gymnasium, and was the only medium by which the men of the various nationalities could communicate with each other, they now rapidly increased their knowledge of it, Beric strongly urging them to become acquainted with it as soon as possible, as it might be most useful and important to them. None of the others besides Boduoc were, Scopus thought, ever likely to be a credit to him in the more serious contests in the ring, but all showed an aptitude for wrestling and boxing, and the lanista was well content with this, as the games in the arena frequently commenced with these comparatively harmless sports, and in many of the provincial cities wrestlers and boxers were in great request.

Beric was much pleased when he heard from the master that he intended to confine his teaching to these two exercises only with regard to his companions; for although men were sometimes seriously hurt by blows given by the masses of leather and lead, which, wound round the fist, were used to give weight to the blows, a final termination to the contests was rare. In the exercises the men practised with many wrappings of wadding and cotton wound round the caestus, answering the purpose of the modern boxing glove. Beric himself was very partial to the exercise, and as it strengthened the muscles, and gave quickness and activity to the limbs, Scopus encouraged him in it.

“I do not see the use of the caestus,” Beric said one day. “One could hit and guard much more quickly without it. It is good, no doubt, for exercise, as it strengthens the muscles, but surely for fighting it would be better to lay it aside. What is the advantage of it? With the bare fist one can knock an opponent down, and with a very few blows strike him senseless. What more can you want than that?”

“Yes, for men like you Britons that would do, for a straight blow from any one of you would well nigh break in the bones of the face of an ordinary man, and, as you say, you could strike much more quickly without the weight on your hands, but with smaller men a contest might last for hours without the caestus, and the spectators would get tired of it; but I will try the experiment some day, and put up one of the Britons against Asthor the Gaul, hands against the caestus, and see what comes of it. At present he is more skilful than any of your people, but they are getting on fast, and when one of them is fairly his match in point of skill I will try it. If the Briton wins, I will, when they first go into the arena, match them against the champions of the other schools with bare hands against armed ones, and they will get great credit if they win under those conditions. Both at that and at wrestling you Britons are likely to carry all before you. I should like to train you all only for that.”

“I wish you would,” Beric said earnestly.

“There is less honour in winning at wrestling and boxing than in the other contests,” Scopus said.

“For that I care nothing whatever, Scopus; besides, you would get more credit from my winning in those games than from my being killed in the others. Strength and height count for much in them, while against an active retiarius strength goes for very little.”

“But you are active as well as strong, Beric, and so is Boduoc. Moreover, when Caesar sent you to me to be prepared for the ring, he meant that you should take part in the principal contests, and he would be furious if, on some great occasion, when he expected to see you stand up against a famous champion, it turned out that you were only a wrestler.”

“I am ready and willing to learn all the exercises, Scopus–I should like to excel in them all–but you might put me up as a wrestler and boxer; then if Nero insisted on my betaking myself to other weapons, I could do so without discredit to you. But my opinion is that every man should do what he can do best. Were we to fight with clubs, I think that we need have no fear of any antagonists; but our strength is for the most part thrown away at sword play, at which any active man with but half our strength is our match. You have told me that Nero often looks in at your school, and doubtless he will do so when he comes back from Greece. You could then tell him that you had found that all the Britons were likely to excel rather in wrestling and boxing, where their strength and height came into play, than in the other exercises, and that you therefore were instructing them chiefly in them.”

“I will see what I can do,” Scopus said. “I like you Britons, you are good tempered, and give me no trouble. I will tell you what I will do, I will send to Greece for the best instructor in wrestling I can get hold of, they are better at that than we are, and wrestling has always ranked very high in their sports. Most of you already are nearly a match for Decius; but you are all worth taking pains about, for there are rich prizes to be won in the provincial arenas, as well as at Rome; and in Greece, where they do not care for the serious contests, there is high honour paid to the winners in the wrestling games.”

As time went on Beric had little leisure to spend in libraries, for the exercises increased in severity, and as, instead of confining himself, as most of the others did, to one particular branch, he worked at them all, the day was almost entirely given up to exercises of one kind or another. His muscles, and those of his companions, had increased vastly under the training they received. All had been accustomed to active exercise, but under their steady training every ounce of superfluous flesh disappeared, their limbs became more firmly knit, and the muscles showed out through the clear skin in massive ridges.

“We should astonish them at home, Beric,” Boduoc said one day. “It is strange that people like the Romans, who compared to us are weakly by nature, should have so studied the art of training men in exercises requiring strength. I used to wonder that the Roman soldiers could wield such heavy spears and swords. Now I quite understand it. We were just as nature made us, they are men built up by art. Why, when we began, my arms used to ache in a short time with those heavy clubs, now I feel them no more than if they were willow wands.”

Pollio had remained but two months in Rome, and had then gone out with a newly appointed general to Syria. Beric had missed his light hearted friend much, but he was not sorry to give up the visits with him to the houses of his friends. He felt that in these houses he was regarded as a sort of show, and that the captured British chief, who was acquainted with the Latin tongue and with Roman manners, was regarded with something of the same curiosity and interest as a tamed tiger might be. Besides, however much gladiators might be the fashion in Rome, he felt a degradation in the calling, although he quite appreciated the advantage that the training would be to him should he ever return to Britain. He was pleased to learn from Pollio, on the day before he started, that he had heard that his uncle would ere long return to Rome.

“I believe,” he said, “that it is entirely my aunt’s doing. You know how she hates what she calls her exile, and I hear that she has been quietly using all her family influence to obtain his recall and his appointment as a magistrate here. I learn she is likely to succeed, and that my uncle will be one of these fine days astounded at receiving the news that he is appointed a magistrate here. I don’t suppose he will ever learn my aunt’s share in the matter, and will regard what others would take as a piece of supreme good luck as a cruel blow of fortune. However, if he did discover it, my aunt would maintain stoutly that she did it for the sake of the girls, whom she did not wish to see married to some provincial officer, and condemned, as she had been, to perpetual exile; and as she would have the support of all her relations, and even of my father, who is also convinced that it is the greatest of all earthly happiness for a Roman to reside at Rome, my uncle for once will have to give in. Aemilia, too, will be glad to return to Rome, though I know that Ennia is of a different opinion. I believe, from what she let drop one day, that she has a leaning towards the new sect, of which she has heard from the old slave who was her nurse. It will be a great misfortune if she has, for it would cause terrible trouble at home, and if any fresh persecution breaks out, she might be involved. I am sure my aunt has no suspicion of it, for if she had the slave would be flogged to death or thrown to the fishes, and Ennia’s life would be made a burden to her till she consented to abandon the absurd ideas she had taken up.”

But if Norbanus had returned with his family to Rome, Beric had heard nothing of it. Had Pollio been at Rome he would at once have taken him to see them on their return, but now that he had gone there was no one from whom he would hear of their movements, and Norbanus himself would be so much occupied with his new duties, and with the society with which Lesbia would fill the house, that he would have no time to inquire about the British captive he had received as his guest at Massilia.

One evening, when the rest of the gladiators were engaged in a hot discussion as to the merits of some of those who were to appear at the games given in celebration of the funeral obsequies of a wealthy senator, Beric asked Boduoc to accompany him for a walk.

“One gets sick of all that talk about fighting,” he said as they went out. “How men can sit indoors in a hot room heavy with the smoke of the lamps, when they can go out on such a lovely night as this, I cannot understand. We do not have such nights as this at home, Boduoc.”

“No,” Boduoc assented reluctantly, for it was seldom that he would allow anything Roman to be superior to what he was accustomed to in Britain; “the nights are certainly fine here, and so they need be when it is so hot all day that one can scarcely breathe outside the house. It seems to me that the heat takes all the strength out of my limbs.”

Beric laughed. “It did not seem so, Boduoc, when today you threw Borthon, who is as heavy and well nigh as strong as yourself, full five yards through the air. Let us turn out from these busy streets and get among the hills–not those on which the palaces stand, but away from houses and people.”

“What a night it would be for wolf hunting!” Boduoc said suddenly, when they had walked along for some distance in silence.

“Yes, that was fine sport, Boduoc; and when we slew we knew we were ridding the land of fierce beasts.”

“Well, many of the gladiators are not much better, Beric. There is Porus, who may be likened to a panther; there is Chresimus, who is like a savage bull; Gripus, who, when not at work, is for ever trying to stir up strife. Truly, I used to think, Beric, that I could not slay a man unless he was an enemy, but I scarce feel that now. The captives in war are like ourselves, and I would not, if I could help it, lift sword against them. But many of the men are malefactors, who have been sentenced to death as gladiators rather than to death by the executioner, and who, by the terms of the sentence, must be killed within the course of a year. Well, there is no objection to killing these; if you do not do it, someone else will. Then there are the Romans, these are the roughest and most brutal of all; they are men who have been the bullies of their quarters, who fight for money only, and boast that it is a disappointment to them when, by the vote of the spectators, they have to spare an antagonist they have conquered. It is at least as good a work to kill one of these men as to slay a wolf at home. Then there are the patricians, who fight to gain popular applause, and kill as a matter of fashion; for them I have assuredly no pity.

“No, I hope I shall never have to stand up against a captive like myself but against all others I can draw my sword without any of the scruples I used to feel. I hear that if one of us can but hold his own for three years, in most cases he is given his liberty. I do not mean that he would be allowed to go home, but he is free from the arena.”

They were now near the summit of one of the hills, where a clear sweep had been made of all the houses standing there in order that a stately temple should be erected on the site. Suddenly they heard a scream in a female voice.

“There is some villainy going on, Boduoc, let us break in upon the game.” They ran at the top of their speed in the direction from which they had heard the cry, and came upon a group of seven or eight men, belonging, as they could see by the light of the moon, to the dregs of the city. A female was lying on the ground, another was clinging to her, and two men with coarse jeers and laughter were dragging her from her hold when the two Britons ran up.

Beric struck one of the men to the ground with a terrible blow, while Boduoc seizing the other hurled him through the air, and he fell head foremost among a heap of the masonry of a demolished building. The other men drew their knives, but as Beric and his companion turned upon them there was a cry, “They are gladiators,” and the whole of them without a moment’s hesitation took to their heels.

Beric then turned towards the females, and as the light of the moon fell full on his face the one with whom the men had been struggling exclaimed, “Why, it is surely Beric!”

Beric looked at her in surprise. “It is the lady Ennia!” he exclaimed. “Why, what are you doing at this time of night in so lonely a place, and without other attendants than this woman?”

“It is my nurse,” Ennia said; “I was on my way with her, Beric, to a secret meeting of Christians held in an underground room of one of the villas that stood here. I have been there several times before and we have not been molested, but, as I gathered from what the men said, they noticed the light fall upon my necklace and bracelet as I passed by a lamp, and so followed us. Happily they overtook us before we reached the place of meeting. Had they followed us farther they might have come upon us there, and then much more harm would have been done. They came up and roughly demanded who we were, and bade me hand over my jewels. Lycoris answered them, and they struck her down. I threw myself down on her and clung to her, but they would soon have plundered and perhaps killed me had not you arrived.”

“Do not you think, Ennia, that it is foolish and wrong of you thus to go out unprotected at night to such a place as this, and, as I suppose, without the knowledge of your father and mother?”

“They do not know,” she said, “but it is my duty to go. It is the only opportunity I have for hearing the Word preached.”

“I cannot think, Ennia, that it is your duty,” Beric said gravely. “The first duty of a young woman is to obey her parents, and I think that you, being as yet scarce a woman, are not able to judge between one religion and another. I know nothing of the doctrines of this sect save what your father told me; but he said that they were good and pure, and, being so, I am sure that they cannot countenance disobedience to parents.”

“The words are ‘Forsake all, and follow Me,'” Ennia said firmly.

“That could not have been said to one of your age, Ennia. I was reading the Jewish sacred book the other day, and one of the chief commandments is to honour your father and mother. Well, I think, at any rate, that it were best not to go there tonight. These men may return, and at any rate I will not allow you thus to wander about at night unprotected. Boduoc and I will escort you to your house. When you get there I trust that you will think this over, and that you will see that such midnight excursions are altogether wrong, whatever the motive may be; but at any rate, if you must go, I must obtain your promise that you will write to me at the school of Scopus the gladiator, to tell me at what hour you start. I shall not intrude my presence upon you, nor accompany you, for this would be to make myself an accomplice in what I consider your folly; but I shall always be near you, and if you are again disturbed on your way Boduoc and I will be at hand to punish those who meddle with you.”

The old nurse by this time had regained her feet.

“You are the nurse of this young lady,” Beric said to her sternly, “and should know better than to bring her into danger. If Norbanus knew what you have done he would have you cut in pieces.”

“It is not the fault of Lycoris. She begged and entreated me not to come, but I would not listen to her. You are angry with me, Beric, but you would not be angry if you knew what it was to me. Younger than I have died for the Faith, and I would die too if it were necessary.”

Beric made no reply, he was indeed deeply vexed at what he considered an act of mad folly. The daughters of Norbanus had been very friendly and kind to him at Massilia, and he felt a debt of gratitude to their father; and this escapade on the part of Ennia, who was as yet scarce sixteen, vexed him exceedingly. He was not sure, indeed, but that he ought to go straight to Norbanus and tell him what had happened, yet he feared that in such a case the anger of the magistrate would be so great that Ennia would be forced by him into becoming one of the vestal virgins, or be shut up in strict imprisonment. Scarce a word was spoken as they passed down the hill and into the streets, now almost deserted. At last Ennia stopped at the entrance used by the slaves to her father’s house.

“Will you give me your promise,” he asked, “about going out at night again? I implore you, I beseech you do not again leave the house of your father at night unknown to him. You cannot tell the dangers you run by so doing, or the misery you may bring, not only on yourself, but on your parents.”

“I promise you,” Ennia said. “I owe you so great a debt of gratitude that even your harsh words do not anger me. I will think over what you have said, and try to do what may seem to me my duty.”

“That is all I ask,” Beric said more gently; and then turning walked away with Boduoc, who had but faintly understood what was being said, but was surprised at the recognition between Beric and this girl, whom he had not particularly noticed when at Massilia.

“That is Pollio’s cousin, the younger daughter of the magistrate I stayed with at Massilia. It was well for her that it was not Pollio who came to her rescue instead of us.”

“I should say so,” Boduoc said dryly. “Pollio would scarcely be a match for eight cutthroats.”

“I did not mean that, Boduoc. I meant that he would have rated her soundly.”

“It seemed to me that you were rating her somewhat soundly, Beric. I scarce ever heard you speak so harshly before, and I wondered the more as you are neither kith nor kin to her, while by the heartiness with which you scolded her you might have been her own brother.”

“I did not think whether I had a right to scold her or not, Boduoc. I liked both the maiden and her sister, and their father was very kind to me. Moreover, after all Pollio has done for us, the least I could do was to look after his cousin. But even if I had known nothing whatever of her or her friends, I should have spoken just as I did. The idea of a young girl like that wandering about at night with no one but an old slave to protect her in an unfrequented quarter of Rome! It is unheard of.”

“But what were they doing there, Beric?”

“They were going to a meeting place of a new religion there is in Rome. The people who belong to it are persecuted and obliged to meet in secret. The old woman belongs to it, and has, I suppose, taught Ennia. I have heard that the sect is spreading, and that although most of those who adhere to it are slaves, or belong to the poorer class, there are many of good family who have also joined it.”

“Well, I should have thought,” Boduoc said, “that the Romans had no cause to be dissatisfied with their gods. They have given them victory, and dominion, and power, and wealth. What more could they want of them? I could understand that we, whose god did nothing to assist us in our fight against the Romans, should seek other gods who might do more for us. But that a Roman should have been discontented with his gods is more than I can understand. But what is that sudden flash of light?”

“It is a fire, and in these narrow streets, with a brisk wind blowing, it may well spread. There, do you hear the watchmen’s trumpets giving the alarm? Let us get back quickly, Boduoc. It may be that we shall be all turned out to fight the fire if it spreads.”

They were not far from the school now, and a few minutes’ run took them there. The house was quiet, but a few oil lamps burning here and there enabled them to make their way to the broad planks, arranged like a modern guard bed, on which they slept with their three comrades.

“Is that you, Beric?” Scopus, who slept in a cubicule leading off the great room, asked.

“Yes it is; Boduoc and I.”

“You are very late,” he growled. “Late hours are bad for the health. Are you sober?”

Beric laughed.

“No, I need not ask you,” Scopus went on. “If it had been some of the others who had been out so late, I should have been sure they would have come home as drunk as hogs; but that is not your way.”

“There is a fire not very far off, Scopus, and the wind is blowing strongly.”

Scopus was at once on his feet and came out into the room. “I don’t like fires,” he said uneasily. “Let us go up on the roof and see what it is like.”

Short as the time had been since Beric first saw the flash of light the fire had already spread, and a broad sheet of flame was shooting up into the air. “It is down there in the most crowded quarter, and the wind is blowing strongly. It is likely to be a big fire. Listen to the din.”

A chorus of shouts, the shrieks of women, and the tramp of many feet running, mingled with the sounding of the watchmen’s horns.

“The soldiers will soon be there to keep order,” Scopus said. “As every household is obliged to keep a bucket in readiness, and there is an abundance of water; they will cope with it. At any rate the wind is not blowing in this direction. It is half a mile away fully.”

“Can we go down and see if we can be of any assistance?” Beric asked. “We might help in removing goods from the houses, and in carrying off the aged and sick.”

“You can if you like, Beric. I would not say as much for those who are training hard, for the loss of a night’s rest is serious; but as it will be some months before you Britons are ready for the arena, it will do you no harm.”

Beric went below, aroused his countrymen, and went with them and Boduoc. The streets were alive. Men were running in the direction of the fire carrying buckets; women were standing at the doors inquiring of the passersby if they knew what street was on fire, and whether it was likely to spread. The sound of military trumpets calling the soldiers to arms rose in various parts of the city, and mingled with the hoarse sound of the watchmen’s horns. As they approached the fire the crowd became thicker.

Beric admired the coolness shown and the order that already reigned. The prefect of the 7th Cohort of the Night Guard, always on duty to guard the streets from thieves or fire, was already on the spot, and under his directions, and those of several inferior officials, the men, as fast as they arrived, were set to pass buckets along from the fountains and conduits.

“Who are you?” the magistrate asked, as the five tall figures came up the street in the light of the fire.

“We belong to the school of Scopus,” Beric said. “We have come down to see if we can be of assistance. We are strong, and can move goods from houses threatened, or carry off the sick should there be any; or we can throw water on the flames.”

“The soldiers will do that,” the magistrate said, “that is their business; but, as you say, you may be of use in helping clear the houses outside their lines. The flames are spreading. Come with me, I will take you to the centurion commanding a company of the Night Guard here, for if he saw you coming out of the house with goods he might take you for plunderers.”

The centurion, who was hard at work with his men, nodded an assent.

“It were well to get some more stout fellows like these,” he said to the magistrate. “In spite of our efforts the fire is making headway, and the sooner the houses in its path are stripped the better.”

A strong body of volunteers for the work was soon organized, and an official placed in charge of it. All night they worked without intermission, Beric and his comrades keeping together and astonishing those who were working with them by the strength and activity they displayed. But fast as they worked the flames advanced faster. They were half suffocated by smoke, and the sparks fell thickly round them. The workers carried the goods out of the houses into the street, where other parties conveyed them to open spaces. Lines of men down all the streets leading to the scene of the fire passed along buckets of water. These the soldiers carried up on to the roofs, which they deluged, while others wetted the hangings and furniture that had not been removed.

Parties of troops strove to pull down the houses in the path of the flames, while others again marched up and down preserving order. The Night Guard entered the houses, compelled all to leave, and saw that none were left behind; while sentries kept guard over the goods piled high in the open spaces. When morning broke, Beric gave up the work to a fresh party and returned with his companions to the school. They found it deserted, save by the slaves, the others having, as they learned, gone to the fire an hour before with Scopus.

“We will have a bath to get rid of the dust and sweat,” Beric said. “But first we will go up to the roof and have a look at the fire. We had no time when we were working to think much of it; but as we were always being driven back by it, it must have spread a good deal.”

An exclamation of surprise broke from them when they gained the roof. Smoke and flames were rising over a large area. A dense canopy overhung the town, a confused din filled the air, while momentarily deep heavy sounds told of falling roofs and walls.

“This is terrible, Boduoc.”

“Why terrible, Beric? For my part I should like to see Rome utterly destroyed, as she has destroyed so many other towns.”

“The Romans would build it up again more magnificent than before, Boduoc. No, it would be a misfortune to the world if Rome were destroyed; but there is little chance of that. They have had many fires before now; this is a large one certainly, but by this time all the troops in the city must be there, and if the wind drops they will soon arrest the progress of the flames.”

The other Britons quite agreed with Boduoc, and though ready to work their hardest to aid in saving the property of individuals, they looked on with undisguised satisfaction at the great conflagration. On such a point as this Beric knew that it would be useless to argue with them.

“You had better come down from the roof, Boduoc. There are others watching the fire besides ourselves; and if it were reported that some of the gladiators from the school were seen making exulting gestures, there would be a popular tumult, and it is likely as not we should be charged with being the authors of the fire. Let us go down, get some food, and then have a bath and sleep for a while. There is little chance of the fire being checked at present. At any rate, we have done our share of work.”

After a few hours’ sleep Beric again went up to the roof. The fire had made great progress, and, as he could see, was not only travelling with the wind, but working up against it. It was already much nearer to the school than it had been. As to the width of the area of the conflagration the smoke prevented him from forming any opinion; but he judged that the length was fully a mile. It was evident that the progress of the fire was causing great dismay. Groups were gathered on the housetops everywhere, while the streets were crowded with fugitives laden with household goods, making their way towards the thinly populated portions of the hills. After eating some bread and fruit, Beric again sallied out with his four companions. On their way down they met Scopus with several of the gladiators returning.

“What is being done, Scopus?”

“As far as stopping the fire nothing is being done. It has been given up. What can be done when the fire is sweeping along a mile broad, and the heat is so great that there is no standing within a hundred yards of it? All the soldiers are there, and the magistrates and the guards, and all the rest of them, but all that can be done is to prevent the scum of the city from sacking and plundering. Scores of men have been scourged and some beheaded, but it is no easy matter to keep down the mob. There are parties of guards in every street. The whole of the Praetorians are under arms, but the terror and confusion is so great and spread over so wide a space that it is well nigh impossible to preserve order. Proclamations have just been issued by the senate calling upon all citizens to gather at their places of assembly in arms, enjoining them to preserve order, and authorizing the slaying of all robbers caught in the act of plundering. All persons within a certain distance of the fire are recommended to send their wives and families, with their jewels and all portable wealth, to the public gardens, where strong guards of the Praetorians will be posted.”

“It seems to me that the fire is advancing in this direction, also, Scopus.”

“It is spreading everywhere,” Scopus said gloomily. “The heat seems to draw the air in from all directions, and the flames surge sometimes one way and sometimes another. You had better not go far away, Beric; if the flames crawl up much nearer we shall have to prepare for a move. We have no jewels to lose, nor is the furniture of much value, but the arms and armour, our apparatus, clothes, and other things must be carried off.”

The scene as Beric went forward was pitiful in the extreme. Weeping women carrying heavy burdens and with their children clinging to their dress came along. Some searched up and down frantically for members of the family who had been lost in the crowd. Old men and women were being helped along by their relations. The sick were being borne past upon doors or the tops of tables.

Among the fugitives were groups of men from the poorest districts by the river, who were only restrained from snatching at the ornaments and caskets of the women by the presence of the soldiers, standing at short intervals along the street and at the doors of the principal houses. In spite of the vigilance of the guard, however, such thefts occasionally took place, and the screams that from time to time rose in the side streets told of the work of plunder going on there.

“I should like to turn down here and give a lesson to some of these villains,” Boduoc said.

“I should like nothing better, Boduoc, but it would not do to get into a fray at present. It would only bring up the guard, and they would not be likely to ask many questions as to who was in fault, but would probably assume at once that we, being gladiators, were there for the purpose of robbery, and that the row had arisen over the division of spoil. Look, there is a centurion taking a party of men down the street where we heard those screams. Let us move back a few paces and see what is going to happen. Yes, there is another party of soldiers coming in at the other end. The women are running out of the houses to tell their grievances.”

Small parties of soldiers entered the houses. Shouts and yells could be heard even above the surrounding din. Men jumped from windows or ran out into the street only to be cut down by the troops there, and so each body of soldiers continued to advance until they met in the centre of the street, and then, after a few words between the officers, each party returned by the way it had come. They had done their work, and the street had been completely cleared of the plunderers.

“You see, Boduoc, had we run down there when we heard the cries it would have gone hard with us. The troops certainly spent no time in questioning; the women might have told them, perhaps, that we had come to their assistance; still it is just as well that we keep clear of the matter.”

Beric’s party skirted along the fire for some distance. At some points to windward of the flames efforts were still being made to prevent their spread, large numbers of men being employed in pulling down houses under the supervision of the fire guard. Bodies of troops guarded the entrances to all the streets, and kept back the crowd of sightseers, who had assembled from all parts of the city. Fearing that they might be impressed for the work of demolition, the Britons returned to the school. The familia, as the members of any school of this kind were called, were all assembled. Scopus was walking moodily up and down the gymnasium, but it was evident by the countenances of most of the men that they felt a deep satisfaction at the misfortune that had befallen Rome. From time to time Scopus ascended to the roof, or sent one of the men out to gather news, but it was always to the same effect, the fire was still spreading, and assuming every hour more serious proportions. Towards evening the flames had approached so closely, that Scopus gave orders for the men to take up the bundles that had already been made up, containing everything of any value in the school.

“You had better not wait any longer,” he said; “at any moment there may be orders for all schools to go down to help the troops, and then we should lose everything.”

Accordingly the heavy packets were lifted by the men on to their heads or shoulders, and they started for the Palatine, which was the nearest hill. Here were many of the houses of the wealthy, and the owners of most of these had already thrown open their gardens for the use of the fugitives. In one of these the gladiators deposited their goods. Two of the party having been left to guard them the rest went out to view the fire.

There was little sleep in Rome that night. It was now evident to all that this was no local conflagration, but that, if the wind continued to blow, it threatened the entire destruction of a considerable portion of the town. Every space and vantage ground from which a view of the fire could be obtained was crowded with spectators.

“There were great fires when we destroyed Camalodunum, Verulamium, and London,” Boduoc said, “but this is already larger than any of those, and it is ever spreading; even at this distance we can hear the roar of the flames, the crash of the falling houses, and the shouts of the workers.”

“It is a terrible sight, indeed, Boduoc. It looks like a sea of fire. So far the part involved is one of the oldest and poorest in the city, but if it goes on like this the better quarters will soon be threatened. If we get no special orders tomorrow, we will go down to the house of Norbanus and give what help we can in the removal of his goods. His library is a very valuable one, and its loss would be a terrible blow to him. I remember that at Camalodunum there was nothing I regretted so much as the destruction of the books.”

“It is all a matter of taste,” Boduoc said. “I would rather have a good suit of armour and arms than all the books in Rome. Why some people should worry their brains to make those little black marks on paper, and others should trouble to make out what they mean, is more than I can understand. However, we shall be glad to help you to carry off the goods of Norbanus.”

CHAPTER XIV: ROME IN FLAMES

All night the gladiators watched the ever widening area of fire. In the morning proclamations were found posted in every street, ordering all citizens to be under arms, as if expecting the attack of an enemy; each district was to be patrolled regularly, and all evildoers found attempting to plunder were to be instantly put to death, the laws being suspended in face of the common danger. All persons not enrolled in the lists of the city guards were exhorted to lend their aid in transporting goods from the neighbourhood of the fire to a place of safety in the public gardens, and the masters of the schools of gladiators were enjoined to see that their scholars gave their aid in this work.

“Well, we may as well set to work,” Scopus said. “There are some of my patrons to whom we may do a good service.”

“Will you let me go with my comrades first to aid Norbanus, a magistrate who has done me service?” Beric said. “After I have helped to move his things I will join you wherever you may appoint.”

Scopus nodded. “Very well, Beric. I shall go first to the house of Gallus the praetor, he is one of my best friends. After we are done there we will go to the aid of Lysimachus the senator; so, if you don’t find us at the house of Gallus, you will find us there.”

Beric at once started with the four Britons to the house where he had left Ennia. It was distant but half a mile from the point the fire had now reached, and from many of the houses round the slaves were already bearing goods. Here, however, all was quiet. The door keeper, knowing Beric, permitted him and his companions to enter without question. Norbanus was already in his study. He looked up as Beric approached him. “Why, it is Beric!” he said in surprise. “I heard that you were in one of the ludi and was coming to see you, but I have been full of business since I came here. I am glad that you have come to visit me.”

“It is not a visit of ceremony,” Beric said; “it is the fire that has brought me here.”

“Lesbia tells me that it is still blazing,” Norbanus said indifferently. “She has been worrying about it all night. I tell her I am not praetor of the fire guard, and that it does not come within my scope of duty. I went down yesterday afternoon, but the soldiers and citizens are all doing their work under their officers, and doubtless it will soon be extinguished.”

“It is ever growing, Norbanus. It is within half a mile of your house now, and travelling fast.”

“Why, it was treble that distance last night,” Norbanus said in surprise. “Think you that there is really danger of its coming this way?”

“Unless a change takes place,” Beric said, “it will assuredly be here by noon; even now sparks and burning flakes are falling in the street. The neighbours are already moving, and I would urge you to lose not a moment’s time, but summon your slaves, choose all your most valuable goods, and have them carried up to a place of safety. If you come up to the roof you will see for yourself how pressing is the danger.”

Norbanus, still incredulous, ascended the stairs, but directly he looked round he saw that Beric had not exaggerated the state of things.

“I have brought four of my tribesmen with me,” Beric said, “and we are all capable of carrying good loads. There ought to be time to make three journeys at least up to the gardens on the hill, where they will be safe. I should say, let half your slaves aid us in carrying up your library and the valuables that come at once to hand, and then you can direct the others to pack up the goods you prize most so that they shall be ready by our return.”

“That shall be done,” Norbanus said, “and I am thankful to you, Beric, for your aid.”

Descending, Norbanus at once gave the orders, and then going up to the women’s apartments told Lesbia to bid the female slaves pack at once all the dresses, ornaments, and valuables. The cases containing the books were then brought out into the atrium, and there stacked in five piles. They were then bound together with sacking and cords.

“But what are you going to do with these great piles?” Norbanus said as he came down from above, where Lesbia was raging at the news that much of their belongings would have to be abandoned. “Why, each of them is a wagon load.”

“They are large to look at, but not heavy. At any rate we can carry them. Is there anyone to whom we shall specially take them, or shall we place a guard over them?”

“My cousin Lucius, the senator, will, I am sure, take them for me. His house is surrounded by gardens, and quite beyond reach of fire. His wife is Lesbia’s sister, and Aemilia shall go up with you.”

The Britons helped each other up with the huge packets, four slaves with difficulty raising the last and placing it on Beric’s head.

“The weight is nothing now it is up,” he said, “though I wish it were a solid packet instead of being composed of so many of these book boxes.”

The cases in which the Romans usually kept their books were about the size and shape of hat boxes, but of far stronger make, and each holding from six to ten rolls of vellum. A dozen slaves under the superintendence of the steward, and carrying valuable articles of furniture, followed the Britons, and behind them came Aemilia, with four or five female slaves carrying on their heads great packages of the ladies’ clothing. The house of Lucius was but half a mile away from that of Norbanus. Even among the crowd of frightened men and women hurrying up the hill the sight of the five Britons, with their prodigious burdens created lively astonishment and admiration.

“Twenty such men as those,” one said, “would carry off a senator’s villa bodily, if there was room for it in the road.”

“They are the Titans come to life again,” another remarked. “It would take six Romans to carry the weight that one of them bears.”

When they neared the villa of Lucius, Aemilia hurried on ahead with the female slaves, and was standing at the door with the senator when the Britons approached. The senator uttered an exclamation of astonishment.

“Whence have you got these wonderful porters, Aemilia?”

“I know not,” the girl said. “We were dressing, when our father called out that we were to hurry and to put our best garments together, for that we were to depart instantly, as the fire was approaching. For a few minutes there was terrible confusion. The slaves were packing up our things, all talking together, and in an extreme terror. Our mother was terribly upset, and I think she made things worse by giving fresh orders every minute. In the middle of it my father shouted to me to come down at once, and the slaves were to bring down such things as were ready. When I got down I was astonished at seeing these great men quite hidden under the burdens they carried, but I had no time to ask questions. My father said, ‘Go with them to my cousin Lucius, and ask him to take in our goods,’ and I came.”

By this time the party had reached the house.

“Follow me,” Lucius said, leading the way along the front of the house, and round to the storehouses in its rear. Aemilia accompanied him. The slaves deposited their burdens on the ground, and then aided the Britons to lower theirs. Aemilia gave an exclamation of astonishment as Beric turned round.

“Why, it is Beric the Briton!” she exclaimed.

“You did not recognize me, then?” Beric said smiling.

“I should have done so had I looked at you closely,” she said, “in spite of your Roman garb; but what with the crowd, and the smoke, and the fright, I did not think anything about it after my first wonder at seeing you so loaded. Where did you come from so suddenly to our aid? Are these your countrymen? Ennia and I have asked our father almost every day since we came to Rome to go and find you, and bring you to us. He always said he would, but what with his business and his books he was never able to. How good of you to come to our aid! I am sure the books would never have been saved if it had not been for you, and father would never have got over their loss.”

“I knew where your house was,” Beric said, “and was glad to be able to do something in gratitude for your father’s kindness at Massilia. But I must not lose a moment talking; I hope to make two or three more trips before the fire reaches your house. Your slaves have orders to return with us. Will you tell your steward to guide us back by a less frequented road than that we came by, and then we can keep together and shall not lose time forcing our way through the crowd.”

By the time they reached the house of Norbanus the slaves left behind had packed up everything of value.

“I will go up,” Norbanus said, “with all the slaves, male and female, if you will remain here to guard the rest of the things till we return. Several parties of ill favoured looking men have entered by the door, evidently in the hopes of plunder, but left when they saw we were still here. The ladies’ apartments have been completely stripped, and their belongings will go up this time, so that there will be no occasion for them to return. If the flames approach too closely before we come back, do not stay, Beric, nor trouble about the goods that remain. I have saved my library and my own manuscripts, which is all I care for. My wife and daughters have saved all their dresses and jewels. All the most valuable of my goods will now be carried up by my slaves, and if the rest is lost it will be no great matter.”

Beric and his companions seated themselves on the carved benches of the atrium and waited quietly. Parties of marauders once or twice entered, for the area of the fire was now so vast that even the troops and armed citizens were unable properly to guard the whole neighbourhood beyond its limits; but upon seeing these five formidable figures they hastily retired, to look for booty where it could be obtained at less risk.

The fire was but a few hundred yards away, and clouds of sparks and blazing fragments were falling round the house when Norbanus and his slaves returned. These were sufficient to carry up the remaining parcels of goods without assistance from the Britons, who, however, acted as an escort to them on their way back. Their throats were dry and parched by the hot air, and they were glad of a long draught of the good wine that Lucius had in readiness for their arrival. Beric at first refused other refreshment, being anxious to hasten away to join Scopus, but the senator insisted upon their sitting down to a meal.

“You do not know when you may eat another,” he said; “there will be little food cooked in this part of Rome today.”

As Beric saw it was indeed improbable that they would obtain other food if they neglected this opportunity, he and the others sat down and ate a good, though hasty, meal.

“You will come and see us directly the fire is over,” Norbanus said as they rose to leave. “Remember, I shall not know where to find you, and I have had no time to thank you worthily for the service that you have rendered me. Many of the volumes you have saved were unique, and although my own manuscripts may be of little value to the world, they represent the labour of many years.”

Hurrying down to the rendezvous Scopus had given him, Beric found that both villas had already been swept away by the fire. He then went up to the spot where their goods were deposited, but the two gladiators in charge said that they had seen nothing whatever of Scopus.

“Then we will go down and do what we can,” Beric said. “Should Scopus return, tell him that we will be here at nightfall.”

For another two days the conflagration raged, spreading wider and wider, and when at last the wind dropped and the fury of the flames abated, more than the half of Rome lay in ashes. Of the fourteen districts of the city three were absolutely destroyed, and in seven others scarce a house had escaped. Nero, who had been absent, reached Rome on the third day of the fire. The accusation that he had caused it to be lighted, brought against him by his enemies years afterwards, was absurd. There had been occasional fires in Rome for centuries, just as there had been in London before the one that destroyed it, and the strong wind that was blowing was responsible for the magnitude of the fire.

There can, however, be little doubt that the misfortune which appeared so terrible to the citizens was regarded by Nero in a different light. Nero was prouder of being an artist than of being an emperor. Up to this time Rome, although embellished with innumerable temples and palaces, was yet the Rome of the Tarquins. The streets were narrow, and the houses huddled together. Mean cottages stood next to palaces. There was an absence of anything like a general plan. Rome had spread as its population had increased, but it was a collection of houses rather than a capital city.

Nero saw at once how vast was the opportunity. In place of the rambling tortuous streets and crowded rookeries, a city should rise stately, regular, and well ordered, with broad streets and noble thoroughfares, while in its midst should be a palace unequalled in the world, surrounded by gardens, lakes, and parks. There was ample room on the seven hills, and across the Tiber, for all the population, with breathing space for everyone. What glory would there not be to him who thus transformed Rome, and made it a worthy capital of the world! First, however, the people must be attended to and kept in good humour, and accordingly orders were at once issued that the gardens of the emperor’s palaces should be thrown open, and the fugitives allowed to encamp there. Such magazines as had escaped the fire were thrown open, and food distributed to all, while ships were sent at once to Sicily and Sardinia for large supplies of grain for the multitude.

While the ruins were still smoking the emperor was engaged with the best architects in Rome in drawing out plans for laying out the new city on a superb scale, and in making preparations for the commencement of work. The claims of owners of ground were at once wiped out by an edict saying, that for the public advantage it was necessary that the whole of the ground should be treated as public property, but that on claims being sent in other sites would be given elsewhere. Summonses were sent to every town and district of the countries under the Roman sway calling for contributions towards the rebuilding of the capital. So heavy was the drain, and so continuous the exactions to raise the enormous sums required to pay for the rebuilding of the city and the superb palaces for the emperor, that the wealth of the known world scarce sufficed for it, and the Roman Empire was for many years impoverished by the tremendous drain upon its resources.

The great mass of the Roman population benefited by the fire. There was work for everyone, from the roughest labourer to the most skilled artisan and artist. Crowds of workmen were brought from all parts. Greece sent her most skilful architects and decorators, her sculptors and painters. Money was abundant, and Rome rose again from her ruins with a rapidity which was astonishing.

The people were housed far better than they had ever been before; the rich had now space and convenience for the construction of their houses, and although most of them had lost the greater portion of their valuables in the fire, they were yet gainers by it. All shared in the pride excited by the new city, with its broad streets and magnificent buildings, and the groans of the provincials, at whose cost it was raised, troubled them not at all. It was true that Nero, in his need for money, seized many of the wealthier citizens, and, upon one pretext or other, put them to death and confiscated their property; but this mattered little to the crowd, and disturbed none save those whose wealth exposed them to the risk of the same fate.

Beric saw nothing of these things, for upon the very day after the fire died out Scopus started with his scholars to a villa on the Alban Hills that had been placed at his disposal by one of his patrons. There were several other schools in the neighbourhood, as the air of the hills was considered to be far healthier and more strengthening than that of Rome. In spite of the public calamity Nero continued to give games for the amusement of the populace, other rich men followed his example, and the sports of the amphitheatre were carried on on an even more extensive scale than before.

Scopus took six of his best pupils to the first games that were given after the fire. Four of them returned victorious, two were sorely wounded and defeated. Their lives had, however, been spared, partly on account of their skill and bravery, partly because the emperor was in an excellent humour, and the mass of the spectators, on whom the decision of life or death rested, saw that the signal for mercy would be acceptable to him.

The Britons greatly preferred their life on the Alban Hills to that in Rome; for, their exercises done, they could wander about without being stared at and commented upon.

The pure air of the hills was invigorating after that of the great city; and here, too, they met ten of their comrades whose ludi had been all along established on the hills. Plans of escape were sometimes talked over, but though they could not resist the pleasure of discussing them, they all knew that it was hopeless. Though altogether unwatched and free to do as they liked after the work of the day was over, they were as much prisoners as if immured in the strongest dungeons. The arm of Rome stretched everywhere; they would be at once followed and hunted down wherever they went. Their height and complexion rendered disguise impossible, and even if they reached the mountains of Calabria, or traversed the length of Italy successfully and reached the Alps–an almost hopeless prospect–they would find none to give them shelter, and would ere long be hunted down. At times they talked of making their way to a seaport, seizing a small craft, and setting sail in her; but none of them knew aught of navigation, and the task of traversing the Mediterranean, passing through the Pillars of Hercules, and navigating the stormy seas beyond until they reached Britain, would have been impossible for them.

News came daily from the city, and they heard that Nero had accused the new sect of being the authors of the conflagration, that the most rigid edicts had been issued against them, and that all who refused to abjure their religion were to be sent to the wild beasts in the arena.

Beric had not seen Norbanus since the day when he had saved his library from the fire; but a few days after they had established themselves in the hills he received a letter from him saying that he had, after much inquiry, learned where Scopus had established his ludus; he greatly regretted Beric had left Rome without his seeing him, and hoped he would call as soon as he returned. His family was already established in a house near that of Lucius. After that Beric occasionally received letters from Aemilia, who wrote sometimes in her father’s name and sometimes in her own. She gave him the gossip of Rome, described the wonderful work that was being done, and sent him letters from Pollio to read.

One day a letter, instead of coming by the ordinary post, was brought by one of the household slaves.

“We are all in terrible distress, Beric,” she said. “I have told you about the severe persecution that has set in of the Christians. A terrible thing has happened. You know that our old nurse belonged to that sect. She often talked to me about it, but it did not seem to me that what she said could be true; I knew that Ennia, who is graver in her disposition than I am, thought much of it, but I did not think for a moment that she had joined the sect. Two nights ago some spies reported to one of the praetors that some persons, believed to be Christians, were in the habit of assembling one or two nights a week at a lonely house belonging to a freedman. A guard was set and the house surrounded, and fifty people were found there. Some of them were slaves, some freedmen, some of them belonged to noble families, and among them was Ennia.

“She had gone accompanied by that wretched old woman. All who had been questioned boldly avowed themselves to be Christians, and they were taken down and thrown into prison. Imagine our alarm in the morning when we found that Ennia was missing from the house, and our terrible grief when, an hour later, a messenger came from the governor of the prison to say that Ennia was in his charge. My father is quite broken down by the blow. He does not seem to care about Ennia having joined the new sect–you know it is his opinion that everyone should choose their own religion–but he is chiefly grieved at the thought that she should have gone out at night attended only by her nurse, and that she should have done this secretly and without his knowledge. My mother, on the other hand, is most of all shocked that Ennia should have given up the gods of Rome for a religion of slaves, and that, being the daughter of a noble house, she should have consorted with people beneath her.

“I don’t think much of any of these things. Ennia may have done wrong, but that is nothing to me. I only think of her as in terrible danger of her life, for they say that Nero will spare none of the Christians, whether of high or low degree. My father has gone out this morning to see the heads of our family and of those allied to us by kinship, to try to get them to use all their influence to obtain Ennia’s pardon. My mother does nothing but bemoan herself on the disgrace that has fallen upon us. I am beside myself with grief, and so, as I can do nothing else, I write to tell you of the trouble that has befallen us. I will write often and tell you the news.”

Beric’s first emotion was that of anger that Ennia should, after the promise she had given him, have again gone alone to the Christian gathering. Then he reflected that as he was away from Rome, she was, of course, unable to keep that promise. He had not seen her since that night, for she had passed straight through the atrium with her mother while he was assisting the slaves to take up their burdens.

He could not help feeling an admiration for her steadfastness in this new Faith that she had taken up. By the side of her livelier sister he had regarded her as a quiet and retiring girl, and was sure that to her these midnight outings by stealth must have been very terrible, and that only from the very strongest sense of duty would she have undertaken them. Now her open avowal of Christianity, when she must have known what were the penalties that the confession entailed, seemed to him heroic.

“It must be a strange religion that could thus influence a timid girl,” he said to himself. “My mother killed herself because she would not survive the disaster that had fallen upon her people and her gods; but her death was deemed by all Britons to be honourable. Besides, my mother was a Briton, strong and firm, and capable of heroic actions. This child is courting a death that all who belong to her will deem most dishonourable. There is nothing of the heroine in her disposition; it can only be her Faith in her religion that sustains her. As soon as I return to Rome I will inquire more into it.”

It was now ten months since Beric had entered the school of Scopus. He was nearly twenty years old, and his constant and severe exercises had broadened him and brought him to well nigh his full strength. Scopus regarded him with pride, for in all the various exercises of the arena he was already ahead of the other gladiators. His activity was as remarkable as his strength, and he was equally formidable with the trident and net as with sword and buckler; while in wrestling and with the caestus none of the others could stand up against him. He had been carefully instructed in the most terrible contest of all, that against wild beasts, for Scopus deemed that, being a captive of rank and importance, he might be selected for such a display.

A Libyan, who had often hunted the lion in its native wilds, had described to him over and over again the nature of the animal’s attack, and the spring with which it hurls itself upon its opponent, and Scopus having obtained a skin of one of the animals killed in the arena, the Libyan had stuffed it with outstretched paws; and Scopus obtained a balista, by which it was hurled through the air as if in the act of springing. Against this Beric frequently practised.

“You must remember,” the Libyan said, “that the lion is like a great cat, and as it springs it strikes, so that you must avoid not only its direct spring, but its paws stretched to their full extent as it passes you in the air. You must be as quick as the animal itself, and must not swerve till it is in the air. Then you must leap aside like lightning, and, turning as you leap, be ready to drive your spear through it as it touches the ground. The inert mass, although it may pass through the air as rapidly as the wild beast, but poorly represents the force and fierceness of the lion’s spring. We Libyans meet the charge standing closely together, with our spears in advance for it to spring on, and even then it is rarely we kill it without one or two being struck down before it dies. Bulls are thought by some to be more formidable than lions; but as you are quick, you can easily evade their rush. The bears are ugly customers. They seem slow and clumsy, but they are not so, and they are very hard to kill. One blow from their forepaws will strip off the flesh as readily as the blow of a tiger. They will snap a spear shaft as easily as if it were a reed. They are all ugly beasts to fight, and more than a fair match for a single man. Better by far fight the most skilled gladiator in the ring than have anything to do with these creatures. Yet it is well to know how to meet them, so that if ill fortune places you in front of them, you may know how to do your best.”

Accounts came almost daily to the hills of the scenes in the arena, and the Romans, accustomed though they were to the fortitude with which the gladiators met the death stroke, were yet astonished at the undaunted bearing of the Christians–old men and girls, slaves and men of noble family, calmly facing death, and even seeming to rejoice in it.

One evening a slave brought a note from Aemilia to Beric. It contained but a few words:

“Our efforts are vain; Ennia is condemned, and will be handed to the lions tomorrow in the arena. We have received orders to be present, as a punishment for not having kept a closer watch over her. I think I shall die.”

Beric went to Scopus at once.

“You advised me several times to go to the arena, Scopus, in order to learn something from the conflicts. I want to be present tomorrow. Porus and Lupus are both to fight.”

“I am going myself, Beric, and will take you with me. I shall start two hours before daybreak, so as to be there in good time. As their lanista I shall enter the arena with them. I cannot take you there, but I know all the attendants, and can arrange for you to be down at the level of the arena. It may not be long before you have to play your part there, and I should like you to get accustomed to the scene, the wall of faces and the roar of applause, for these things are apt to shake the nerves of one unaccustomed to them.”

Beric smiled. “After meeting the Romans twenty times in battle, Scopus, the noise of a crowd would no more affect me than the roar of the wind over the treetops. Still I want to see it; and more, I want to see how the people of this new sect face death. British women do not fear to die, and often slay themselves rather than fall into the hands of the Romans, knowing well that they will go straight to the Happy Island and have no more trouble. Are these Christians as brave?”

Scopus shrugged his shoulders. “Yes, they die bravely enough. But who fears death? Among all the peoples Rome has conquered where has she met with cowards? Everywhere the women are found ready to fall by their husbands’ swords rather than become captives; to leap from precipices, or cast themselves into blazing pyres. Is man anywhere lower than the wild beast, who will face his assailants till the last? I have seen men of every tribe and people fight in the arena. If conquered, they raise their hand in order to live to conquer another day; but not once, when the thumbs have been turned down, have I seen one flinch from the fatal stroke.”

“That is true enough,” Beric said; “but methinks it is one thing to court death in the hour of defeat, when all your friends have fallen round you, and all hope is lost, and quite another to stand alone and friendless with the eyes of a multitude fixed on you. Still I would see it.”

The next day Beric stood beside Scopus among a group of guards and attendants of the arena at one of the doors leading from it. Above, every seat of the vast circle was crowded with spectators. In the centre of the lower tier sat the emperor; near him were the members of his council and court. The lower tiers round the arena were filled by the senators and equities, with their wives and daughters. Above these were the seats of officials and others having a right to special seats, and then came, tier above tier to the uppermost seats, the vast concourse of people. When the great door of the arena opened a procession entered, headed by Cneius Spado, the senator at whose expense the games were given. Then, two and two, marched the gladiators who were to take part in it, accompanied by their lanistae or teachers. Scopus, after seeing Beric well placed, had left him to accompany Porus and Lupus.

The gladiators were variously armed. There were the hoplomachi, who fought in complete suits of armour; the laqueatores, who used a noose to catch their adversaries; the retiarii, with their net and trident, and wearing neither armour nor helmet; the mirmillones, armed like the Gauls; the Samni, with oblong shields; and the Thracians, with round ones. With the exception of the retiarii all wore helmets, and their right arms were covered with armour, the left being protected by the shield. The gladiators saluted the emperor and people, and the procession then left the arena, the first two matched against each other again entering, each accompanied by his lanista. Both the gladiators were novices, the men who had frequently fought and conquered being reserved for the later contests, as the excitement of the audience became roused. One of the combatants was armed as a Gaul, the other as a Thracian.

The combat was not a long one. The men fought for a short time cautiously, and then closing exchanged fierce and rapid blows until one fell mortally wounded. A murmur of discontent rose from the spectators, there had not been a sufficient exhibition of skill to satisfy them. Eight or ten pairs of gladiators fought one after the other, the excitement of the audience rising with each conflict, as men of noted skill now contended. The victors were hailed with shouts of applause, and the vanquished were spared, a proof that the spectators were in a good temper and satisfied with the entertainment. Beric looked on with interest. In the age in which he lived feelings of compassion scarcely existed. War was the normal state of existence. Tribal wars were of constant occurrence, and the vanquished were either slain or enslaved. Men fought out their private quarrels to the death; and Beric, being by birth Briton and by education Roman, felt no more compunction at the sight of blood than did either Briton or Roman.

To him the only unnatural feature in the contest was that there existed neither personal nor tribal hostility between the combatants, and that they fought solely for the amusement of the spectators. Otherwise he was no more moved by the scenes that passed before his eyes than is a Briton of the present day by a friendly boxing match. He was more interested when Porus entered the arena, accompanied by Scopus. He liked Porus, who, although quick and fiery in temper, was good natured and not given to brawling. He had often practised against him, and knew exactly his strength and skill. He was clever in the management of his net, but failed sometimes from his eagerness to use his trident. He was received with loud applause when he entered, and justified the good opinion of the spectators by defeating his antagonist, who was armed as a Samnite, the spectators expressing their dissatisfaction at the clumsiness of the latter by giving the hostile signal, when the Gaul–for the vanquished belonged to that nationality–instead of waiting for the approach of Porus, at once stabbed himself with his own sword.

The last pair to fight were Lupus and one of the Britons. He had not been trained in the school of Scopus, but in one of the other ludi, and as he was the first of those brought over by Suetonius to appear in the arena, he was greeted with acclamation as loud as those with which Lupus was received. Tall as Lupus was, the Briton far exceeded him in stature, and the interest of the spectators was aroused by the question whether the strength of the newcomer would render him a fair match for the well known skill of Lupus. A buzz went round the amphitheatre as bets were made on the result. Beric felt a thrill of excitement, for the Briton was one of the youngest and most active of his followers, and had often fought side by side with him against the Romans.

How well he had been trained Beric knew not, but as he knew that he himself was superior in swordmanship to Lupus, he felt that his countryman’s chances of success were good. It was not long, however, before he saw that the teaching the Briton had received had been very inferior to that given at the school of Scopus, and although he twice nearly beat Lupus to the ground by the sheer weight of his blows, the latter thrice wounded him without himself receiving a scratch. Warned, however, of the superior strength of the Briton Lupus still fought cautiously, avoiding his blows, and trying to tire him out. For a long time the conflict continued, then, thinking that his opponent was now weakened by his exertions and by loss of blood, Lupus took the offensive and hotly pressed his antagonist, and presently inflicted a fourth and more severe wound than those previously given.

A shout rose from the spectators, “Lupus wins!” when the Briton, with a sudden spring, threw himself upon his opponent. Their shields clashed together as they stood breast to breast. Lupus shortened his sword to thrust it in below the Briton’s buckler, when the latter smote with the hilt of his sword with all his strength full upon his assailant’s helmet, and so tremendous was the blow that Lupus fell an inert mass upon the ground, while a tremendous shout rose from the audience at this unexpected termination of the contest. Scopus leaned over the fallen man. He was insensible but breathed, being simply stunned by the weight of the blow. Scopus held up his own hand, and the unanimous upturning of the thumbs showed that the spectators were well satisfied with the skill and courage with which Lupus had fought.

CHAPTER XV: THE CHRISTIANS TO THE LIONS

After the contest in which Lupus had been defeated there was a pause. The gladiatorial part of the show was now over, but there was greater excitement still awaiting the audience, for they knew Nero had ordered that some of the Christians were to be given to the lions. There was a hush of expectation as the door was opened, and a procession, consisting of a priest of Jupiter and several attendants of the temple, followed by four guards conducting an elderly man with his two sons, lads of seventeen or eighteen, entered. They made their way across the arena and stopped before the emperor. The priest approached the prisoners, holding out a small image of the god, and offered them their lives if they would pay the customary honours to it. All refused. They were then conducted back to the centre of the arena, and the rest, leaving them there, filed out through the door. The old man laid his hands on the shoulders of his sons and began singing a hymn, in which they both joined. Their voices rose loud and clear in the silence of the amphitheatre, and there was neither pause nor waver in the tone as the entrance to one of the cages at the other end of the arena was opened, and a lion and a lioness appeared. The animals stood hesitating as they looked round at the sea of faces, then, encouraged by the silence, they stepped out, and side by side made the circuit of the arena, stopping and uttering a loud roar as they came upon the track along which the bleeding bodies of those who had fallen had been dragged. When they had completed the circle they again paused, and now for the first time turned their attention to the three figures standing in its centre. For a minute they stood irresolute, and then crouching low crawled towards them.

Beric turned his head. He could view without emotion a contest of armed men, but he could not, like the population of Rome, see unarmed and unresisting men pulled down by wild beasts. There was a dead stillness in the crowded amphitheatre, then there was a low sound as of gasping breath. One voice alone continued the hymn, and soon that too ceased suddenly. The tragedy was over, and the buzz of conversation and comment again broke out among the spectators. Certainly these Christians knew how to die. They were bad citizens, they had doubtless assisted to burn Rome, but they knew how to die.

A strong body of guards provided with torches now entered. The lions were driven back to their dens, the bodies being left lying where they had fallen. Four batches of prisoners who were brought out one after another met with a similar fate. Then there was another pause. It was known that a girl of noble family was to be the last victim, and all eyes were turned to Norbanus, who, with his wife and Aemilia, sat in the front row near Nero, with two Praetorian guards standing beside them. Norbanus was deadly pale, but the pride of noble blood, the stoicism of the philosopher, and the knowledge of his own utter helplessness combined to prevent his showing any other sign of emotion. Lesbia sat upright and immovable herself. She was not one to show her emotion before the gaze of the common people.

Aemilia, half insensible, would have fallen had not the guard beside her supported her. She had seen nothing of what had passed in the arena, but had sat frozen with horror beside her mother. Again the doors opened, a priest of Diana, followed by a procession of white robed attendants, and six virgins from the temple of Diana, entered, followed by Ennia between the attendants of the temple, while a band of lictors brought up the rear. Even the hardened hearts of the spectators were moved by the youth and beauty of the young girl, who, dressed in white, advanced calmly between her guards, with a gentle modest expression on her features. When the procession formed up before the emperor, she saluted him. The priest and the virgins surrounded her, and urged her to pay reverence to the statue of Diana.

Pointing to her parents, they implored her for their sake to recant. Pale as death, and with tears streaming down her cheeks, she shook her head quietly. “I cannot deny the Lord who died for me,” she said.

Nero himself rose from his seat. “Maiden,” he said, “if not for your own sake, for the sake of those who love you, I pray you to cease from your obstinacy. How can a child like you know more than the wisest heads of Rome? How can you deny the gods who have protected and given victory to your country? I would fain spare you.”

“I am but a child, as you say, Caesar,” Ennia replied. “I have no strength of my own, but I am strong in the strength of Him I worship. He gave His life for me–it is not much that I should give mine for Him.”

Nero sank back on his seat with an angry wave of his hand. He saw that the sympathy of the audience was with the prisoner, and would willingly have gained their approval by extending his clemency towards her. The procession now returned to the centre of the arena, where the girls, weeping, took leave of Ennia, who soon stood alone a slight helpless figure in the sight of the great silent multitude. Nero had spoken in a low tone to one of his attendants. The door of another cage was opened, and a lion, larger in bulk than any that had previously appeared, entered the arena, saluting the audience with a deep roar. As it did so a tall figure, naked to the waist, sprang forward from the group of attendants behind a strong barrier at the other end of the arena. He was armed only with a sword which he had snatched from a soldier standing next to him. Deep murmurs of surprise rose from the spectators. The master of ceremonies exchanged a few words with the emperor, and a body of men with torches and trumpets ran forward and drove the lion back into its den. Then Beric, who had been standing in front of Ennia, advanced towards the emperor.

“Who are you?” Nero asked.

“I am Beric, once chief of the Iceni, now a British captive. I received great kindness on my way hither from Norbanus, the father of this maid. As we Britons are not ungrateful I am ready to defend her to the death, and I crave as a boon, Caesar, that you will permit me to battle against the lion with such arms as you may decide.”

“Are you a Christian?” the emperor asked coldly.

“I am not. I am of the religion of my nation, and Rome has always permitted the people that have been subdued to worship in their own fashion. I know nought of the Christian doctrines, but I know that this damsel at least can have had nought to do with the burning of Rome, and that though she may have forsaken the gods of Rome, in this only can she have offended. I pray you, and I pray this assembly, to let me stand as her champion against the beasts.”

A burst of applause rose from the spectators. This was a novelty, and an excitement beyond what they had bargained for. They had been moved by the youth of the victim, and now the prospects of something even more exciting than the rending to pieces of a defenceless girl enlisted them in favour of the applicant. Moreover the Romans intensely admired feats of bravery, and that this captive should offer to face single handed an animal that was known to be one of the most powerful of those in the amphitheatre filled them with admiration. Accustomed as they were to gaze at athletes, they were struck with the physique and strength of this young Briton, with the muscles standing up massive and knotted through the white skin.

“Granted, granted!” they shouted; “let him fight.”

Nero waited till the acclamation ceased, and then said: “The people have spoken, let their will be done. But we must not be unfair to the lion; as the maiden was unarmed so shall you stand unarmed before the lion.”

The decision was received in silence by the spectators. It was a sentence of death to the young Briton, and the silence was succeeded by a low murmur of disapproval. Beric turned a little pale, but he showed no other sign of emotion.

“Thanks, Caesar, for so much of a boon,” he said in a loud, steady voice; “I accept the conditions, it being understood that should the gods of my country, and of this maiden, defend me against the lion, the damsel shall be free from all pain and penalty, and shall be restored to her parents.”

“That is understood,” Nero replied.

With an inclination of his head to the emperor and a wave of his hand to the audience in general, Beric turned and walked across the arena to the barrier. Scopus was standing there.

“You are mad, Beric. I grieve for you. You were my favourite pupil, and I looked for great things from you, and now it has come to this, and all is over.”

“All is not quite over yet, Scopus. I will try to do credit to your training; give me my cloak.” He wrapped himself in its ample folds, and then walked quietly back to the centre of the arena. A murmur of surprise rose from the spectators. Why should the Briton cumber his limbs with this garment?

On reaching his position Beric again threw off the cloak, and stood in the short skirt reaching scarce to the knees. “I am unarmed,” he cried in a loud voice. “You see I have not as much as a dagger.” Then he tore off two broad strips from the edge of the garment and twisted them into ropes, forming a running noose in each, threw the cloak, which was composed of the stout cloth used by the common people, over his arm, and signed to the attendants at the cage to open the door.

“Oh, Beric, why have you thrown away your life in a useless attempt to save mine?” Ennia said as he stood before her.

“It may not be useless, Ennia. My god has protected me through many dangers, and your God will surely assist me now. Do you pray to Him for aid.”

Then as the door of the den opened he stepped a few paces towards it. A roar of applause rose from the vast audience. They had appreciated his action in making the ropes, and guessed that he meant to use his cloak as a retiarius used his net; there would then be a contest and not a massacre. Enraged at its former treatment the lion dashed out of its den with a sudden spring, made three or four leaps forward, and then paused with its eyes fixed on the man standing in front of it, still immovable, in an easy pose, ready for instant action. Then it sank till its belly nearly touched the ground, and began to crawl with a stealthy gliding motion towards him. More and more slowly it went, till it paused at a distance of some ten yards.

For a few seconds it crouched motionless, save for a slow waving motion of its tail; then with a sharp roar it sprang through the air. With a motion as quick Beric leaped aside, and as it touched the ground he sprang across its loins, at the same moment wrapping his cloak in many folds round its head, and knotting the ends tightly. Then as the lion, recovering from its first surprise, sprang to its feet with a roar of anger and disgust, Beric was on his feet beside it.

For a moment it strove to tear away the strange substance which enveloped its head, but Beric dropped the end of a noose over one of its forepaws, drew it tight, and with a sudden pull jerked the animal over on its back. As it sprang up again the other forepaw was noosed, and it was again thrown over. This time, as it sprang to its feet, Beric struck it a tremendous blow on the nose. The unexpected assault for a moment brought it down, but mad with rage it sprang up and struck out in all directions at its invisible foe, leaping and bounding hither and thither. Beric easily avoided the onslaught, and taking every opportunity struck it three or four times with all his force on the ear, each time rolling it over and over. The last of these blows seemed almost to stun it, and it lay for a moment immovable.

Again Beric leaped upon it, coming down astride of its loins with all his weight, and seizing at once the two ropes. The lion uttered a roar of dismay and pain, and struck at him first with one paw and then with the other. By his coolness and quickness, however, he escaped all the blows, and then, when the lion seemed exhausted, he jerked tightly the cords, twisting them behind the lion’s back and with rapid turns fastening them together. The lion was helpless now. Had Beric attempted to pull the cords in any other position it would have snapped them like pack thread, but in this position it had no strength, the pads of the feet being fastened together and the limbs almost dislocated. As the animal rolled over and over uttering roars of vain fury, Beric snatched the cloth from its head, tore off another strip, twisted it, and without difficulty bound its hind legs together. Then he again wrapped it round the lion’s head, and standing up bowed to the spectators.

A mighty shout shook the building. Never had such a feat been seen in the arena before, and men and women alike standing up waved their hands with frantic enthusiasm. Beric had not escaped altogether unhurt, for as the lion struck out at him it had torn away a piece of flesh from his side, and the blood was streaming down over his white skirt. Then he went up to Ennia, who was standing with closed eyes and hands clasped in prayer. She had seen nothing of the conflict, and had believed that Beric’s death and her own were inevitable.

“Ennia,” he said, “our gods have saved me; the lion is helpless.” Then she sank down insensible. He raised her on his shoulder, walked across the arena, passed the barrier, and, ascending the steps, walked along before the first row of spectators and handed her over to her mother. Then he descended again, and bowed deeply, first to the emperor and then to the still shouting people.

The giver of the games advanced and placed on his head a crown of bay leaves, and handed to him a heavy purse of gold, which Beric placed in his girdle, and, again saluting the audience, rejoined Scopus, who was in a state of enthusiastic delight at the prowess of his pupil.

“You have proved yourself the first gladiator in Rome,” he said. “Henceforth the school of Scopus is ahead of all its rivals. Now we must get your side dressed. Another inch or two, Beric, and the conflict would not have ended as it did.”

“Yes, if the lion had not been in such a hurry to strike, and had stretched its paw to the fullest, it would have fared badly with me,” Beric said; “but it was out of breath and spiteful, and had not recovered from the blow and from the shock of my jumping on it, which must have pretty nearly broken its back. I knew it was a risk, but it was my only chance of getting its paws in that position, and in no other would my ropes have been strong enough to hold them.”

“But how came you to think of fighting in that way?” Scopus asked, after the leech, who was always in attendance to dress the wounds of the gladiators, had bandaged up his side.

“I never expected to have to fight the beasts unarmed,” Beric said, “but I had sometimes thought what should be done in such a case, and I thought that if one could but wrap one’s cloak round a lion’s head the beast would be at one’s mercy. Had I had but a caestus I could have beaten its skull in, but without that I saw that the only plan was to noose its limbs. Surely a man ought to be able to overcome a blinded beast.”

“I would not try it for all the gold in Rome, Beric, even now that I have seen you do it. Did you mark Caesar? There is no one appreciates valiant deeds more than he does. At first his countenance was cold–I marked him narrowly–but he half rose to his feet and his countenance changed when you first threw yourself on the lion, and none applauded more warmly than he did when your victory was gained. Listen to them; they are shouting for you again. You must go. Never before did I know them to linger after a show was over. They will give you presents.”

“I care not for them,” Beric said.

“You must take them,” Scopus said, “or you will undo the favourable impression you have made, which will be useful to you should you ever enter the arena again and be conquered. Go, go!”

Beric again entered the arena, and the attendants led him up to the emperor, who presented him with a gold bracelet, saying:

“I will speak to you again, Beric. I had wondered that you and your people should have resisted Suetonius so long, but I wonder no longer.”

Then Beric was led round the arena. Ladies threw down rings and bracelets to him. These were gathered up by the attendants and handed to him as he bowed to the givers. Norbanus, his wife, and daughter had already left their seats, surrounded by friends congratulating them, and bearing with them the still insensible girl. Having made the tour of the arena Beric again saluted the audience and retired. One of the imperial attendants met them as they left the building.

“The emperor bids me say, Scopus, that when Beric is recovered from his wound he is to attend at the palace.”

“I thought the emperor meant well towards you,” Scopus said. “You will in any case fight no more in the arena.”

“How is that?” Beric asked in surprise.

“Did you not hear the shouts of the people the last time you entered, Beric?”

“I heard a great confused roar, but in truth I was feeling somewhat faint from loss of blood, and did not catch any particular sounds.”

“They shouted that you were free from the arena henceforth. It is their custom when a gladiator greatly distinguishes himself to declare him free, though I have never known one before freed on his first appearance. The rule is that a gladiator remains for two years in the ring, but that period is shortened should the people deem that he has earned his life by his courage and skill. For a moment I was sorry when I heard it, but perhaps it is better as it is. Did you remain for two years, and fight and conquer at every show, you could gain no more honour than you have done. Now I will get a lectica and have you carried out to the hills. You are not fit to walk.”

They were joined outside by Porus and Lupus. The former was warm in his congratulation.

“By the gods, Beric, though I knew well that you would gain a great triumph in the arena when your time came, I never thought to see you thus fighting with the beasts unarmed. Why, Milo himself was not stronger, and he won thirteen times at the Olympian and Pythian games. He would have won more, but no one would venture to enter against him. Why, were you to go on practising for another five years, you would be as strong as he was, and as you are as skilful as you are strong it would go hard with any that met you. I congratulated myself, I can tell you, when I heard the people shout that you were free of the arena, for if by any chance we had been drawn against each other, I might as well have laid down my net and asked you to finish me at once without trouble.”

“It was but a happy thought, Porus: if a man could be caught in a net, why not a lion blinded in a cloak? That once done the rest was easy.”

“Well, I don’t want any easy jobs of that sort,” Porus said. “But let us go into a wine shop; a glass will bring the colour again to your cheeks.”

“No, no, Porus,” Scopus said. “Do you and Lupus drink, and I will drink with you, but no wine for Beric. I will get him a cup of hot ass’s milk; that will give him strength without fevering his blood. Here is a place where they sell it. I will go in with him first, and then join you there; but take not too much. You have a long walk back, and I guess, Lupus, that your head already hums from the blow that Briton gave it. By Bacchus, these Britons are fine men! I thought you had got an easy thing of it, when boom! and there you were stretched out like a dead man.”