I not give a cup of gold but you must claim it, I to whom the
Empire and all its wealth belong?"

Snatching up the beaker he dashed it to the floor, spilling the wine, of
which I, who wished to keep my head cool, was glad.

"Have done," he went on in his drunken rage. "Shall the Caesars huckster
over a piece of worked gold like Jews in a market? Give me those figs,
man; I'll settle the matter of this poison."

I brought the jar of figs, and, bowing, set them down before him. That
they were the same I knew, for the glass was labelled in my own writing
and in that of the physician. He cut away the sealed parchment which was
stretched over the mouth of the jar.

"Now hearken you, Olaf," he said. "It is true that I ordered fruit to
be sent to that fool-Caesar, my uncle, because the last time I saw him
Nicephorus prayed me for it, and I was willing to do him a pleasure. But
that I ordered the fruit to be poisoned, as my mother says, is a lie,
and may God curse the tongue that spoke it. I will show you that it was
a lie," and plunging his hand into the spirit of the jar, he drew out
two of the figs. "Now," he went on, waving them about in a half-drunken
fashion, "this General Olaf of yours says that these are the same
figs which were sent to the Caesar, I mean the blind priest, Father
Nicephorus. Don't you, Olaf?"

"Yes, Sire," I answered, "they were placed in that bottle in my presence
and sealed with my seal."

"Well, those figs were sent by me, and this Olaf tells us they are
poisoned. I'll show him, and you too, mother, that they are _not_
poisoned, for I will eat one of them."

Now I looked at the Augusta, but she sat silent, her arms folded on her
white bosom, her handsome face turned as it were to stone.

Constantine lifted the fig towards his loose mouth. Again I looked at
the Augusta. Still she sat there like a statue, and it came into my mind
that it was her purpose to allow this wine-bemused man to eat the fig.
Then I acted.

"Augustus," I said, "you must not touch that fruit," and stepping
forward I took it from his hand.

He sprang to his feet and began to revile me.

"You watch-dog of the North!" he shouted. "Do you dare to say to the
Emperor that he shall not do this or that? By all the images my mother
worships I'll have you whipped through the Circus."

"That you will never do," I answered, for my free blood boiled at the
insult. "I tell you, Sire," I went on, leaving out certain words which I