house of
Cleomenes.

The heavily barred carriage-way was thrown open, the valiant merchant
and his faithful employees and slaves greeted their rescuers as the
little cavalcade drove in. There was not a moment to lose. Cleomenes
and his household might indeed have long made good the house against
the mere attacks of the mob; but the rioters had set the torch to some
adjacent buildings, and all efforts to beat back the flames were
proving futile. There was no time to condole with the merchant over
the loss of his house. The mob had surged again into the streets and
was pressing back, this time more or less prepared to resist the
Romans. The colonnades and the house roofs were swarming, the din was
indescribable, and the crackling and roar of the advancing flames grew
ever louder.

The only alternative was a return to the palace. Cleomenes's employees
and slaves were to scatter into the crowd, where they would easily
escape notice; he himself, with his daughters, Artemisia, and the
Roman ladies, must go in the chariots to the palace. Cornelia came
down from her chamber, her face more flushed with excitement than
alarm. Troubles enough she had had, but never before personal danger;
and she could not easily grasp the peril.

"Are you afraid, carissima," said Drusus, lifting her into his
chariot, "to ride back with me to the palace, through that wolf pack?"

"With you?" she said, admiring the ease with which he sprang about in
full armour; "I would laugh at Medusa or the Hydra of Lerna with you
beside me."

Cleomenes had been again upon the housetop to watch the progress of
the fire. He came down, and Drusus instantly saw that there was dismay
written on his face. The merchant, who was himself armed with sword
and target, drew the officer aside and whispered:--

"Pray, Roman, to all your native gods! I can see a _lochos_[184] of
regular troops filing into the square before the house. Achillas is
entering the city with his men. We shall have to fight our way through
his thousands."

[184] A company of about one hundred men.

Drusus uttered a deep and silent curse on himself for the mad bravado
that led him to leave the palace with but thirty men; why had he not
waited to assemble more? He could ride over the mob; to master
Achillas's disciplined forces was otherwise.

A freedman came running down from the roof, crying out that it was
already on fire. It was a time for action, not thought, yet even at
the moment