een buyers and sellers
when they saw their invited guest approaching in company with a handsome
boy of some fifteen years, whose hand she held in hers.

'Welcome!' cried Rufus. 'Now what will you like best to see first? The
pottery shop with its wares--Samian and Castor and rustic, or the great
corn granaries, or the metal-worker's booth where you can buy a fibula
for yourself, or a boss for your horse's bridle?'

His cousin hesitating, Castus suggested the metal-worker's booth as
being closest, and thither they repaired.

Rufus explained with evident delight the use of the various articles set
forth, and Castus, discerning that the fair visitor had a little Latin,
joined in the conversation.

'Here is a fibula,' he said, 'skilfully ornamented with the head of
Minerva. Take it,' he said, as he gracefully presented it to her, 'as a
memento of Rome's most northern town.'

Quietly she accepted the gift with a word of thanks, then added, 'but
not from Rome,' with an enigmatic smile that strangely attracted the
Roman soldier. '_Not from Rome!_' repeated Castus to himself, with
throbbing heart, 'then _from me_ she must mean,' he conjectured, and the
passion in his breast flamed hotter than before.

He watched her closely as they fared through the town, and though she
was quick to perceive, she did not seem surprised at the novelties she
saw, whereby Castus found himself more attracted by her than ever.
Barbarian she might be held in Rome, but there was a beauty, pride, and
strength in her he had never met with on the Via Sacra.

When the time came for her to depart Castus eagerly suggested that she
should come again two days later when games for all comers were to be
held in the town.

'Yes,' added Rufus, 'you must come. The games will be superb.' Then with
a laugh, 'Castus and I are to box.'

Penchrysa's eye quickened; she shot one glance at Castus, then promising
to return she waved a hand and departed, leading her small brother with
the other. Castus waited long to see if she would not look back over her
shoulder, but no, she went steadily forward, and this only whetted his
appetite the more.

The afternoon set apart for the games was fair and gay with a west wind
that speeded like a greyhound over the wide fells.

The little arena--dug out in the hollow below the camp--was surrounded
by a vast throng of eager spectators drawn from along the wall and the
moor beyond.

There was a holiday in camp; the rumour