wife. The haughty
woman--"that bedizened Niobe" he had contemptuously called her in
speaking to Macrinus--had appeared to him as an avenging goddess;
strangely enough, every time he thought of her, he remembered, too, the
consul Vindex and his nephew, whose execution Melissa's intercession had
only hastened, and he was vexed now that he had not lent an ear to her
entreaties. The fact that the name Vindex signified an avenger disturbed
him greatly, and he could no more get it out of his mind than the image
of the "Niobe" with her ominous dark eyes.

He would see her no more; and in this he was helped by the gladiators,
for they now approached him, and their frantic enthusiasm kept him for
some time from all other thoughts. While they flourished their
weapons-some the sword and buckler, and others the not less terrible net
and harpoon--the time-honored cry rose from their husky throats in eager
acclamation: "Hail, Caesar! those about to die salute thee!" Then, in
rows of ten men each, they crossed the arena at a rapid pace.

Between the first and second group one man swaggered past alone, as
though he were something apart, and he strutted and rolled as he walked
with pompous self-importance. It was his prescriptive right, and in his
broad, coarse features, with a snub nose, thick lips, and white, flashing
teeth like those of a beast of prey, it was easy to see that the
adversary would fare but ill who should try to humble him. And yet he was
not tall; but on his deep chest, his enormous square shoulders, and
short, bandy legs, the muscles stood out like elastic balls, showing the
connoisseur that in strength he was a giant. A loin-cloth was all he
wore, for he was proud of the many scars which gleamed red and white on
his fair skin. He had pushed back his little bronze helmet, so that the
terrible aspect of the left side of his face might not be lost on the
populace. While he was engaged in fighting three panthers and a lion, the
lion had torn out his eye and with it part of his cheek. His name was
Tarautas, and he was known throughout the empire as the most brutal of
gladiators, for he had also earned the further privilege of never
fighting but for life or death, and never under any circumstances either
granting or asking quarter. Where he was engaged corpses strewed the
plain.

Caesar knew that he himself had been nicknamed Tarautas after this man,
and he was not ill pleased; for, above all things, he aimed at being