ses from the thorns of the
enemy! Thou canst become a conjurer as soon as I let thee free."

"Syphax does not wish to be free: he will always be your Syphax, and
save your life as you saved his."

"What is that--thy life?" asked Lucius Licinius.

"Did you pardon him?" asked Marcus.

"More than that, I bought him off."

"Yes, with my money!" grumbled Massurius.

"You know that I immediately gave him the money I won from you as his
private possession," answered Cethegus.

"What about this bet? Let us hear. Perhaps it will afford a subject for
my epigrams," said Piso.

"Retire, Syphax. There! the cook is bringing us his masterpiece, it
seems."

CHAPTER IX.

It was a turbot weighing six pounds, which for years had been fed with
goose-liver in the sea-water fishponds of Kallistratos. The much-prized
"Rhombus" was served upon a silver dish, with a little golden crown on
its head.

"All ye gods, and thou, Prophet Jonah!" stammered Balbus, sinking back
upon the cushions, "that fish is worth more than I!"

"Peace, friend," said Piso, "let not Cato hear thee, who said, 'Woe to
that city where a fish is worth more than an ox.'"

A burst of laughter, and the loud call of "_Euge belle!_" drowned the
angry exclamation of the half-drunken Sicilian.

The fish was carved, and was found delicious.

"Now, slaves, away with the weak Massikian. A noble fish must swim in
noble liquid. Quick, Syphax, the wine which I have contributed to the
banquet will suit exactly. Go, and let the amphora, which the slaves
have set in snow outside, be brought in, and with it the cups of yellow
amber."

"What rare thing have you brought--from what country?" asked
Kallistratos.

"Ask this far-travelled Odysseus, from what hemisphere," said Piso.

"You must guess. And whoever guesses right, or whoever has already
tasted this wine, shall have an amphora from me as large as this."

Two slaves, crowned with ivy, dragged in the immense dark-coloured
vase; it was of brown-black porphyry and of a singular shape, inscribed
with hieroglyphics and well closed at the neck with plaster.

"By the Styx! does it come from Tartarus? It is indeed a black fellow!"
said Marcus, laughing.

"But it has a white soul--show, Syphax."

The Nubian carefully knocked off the plaster with an ebony hammer which
Ganymede handed to him, took out the stopper of palm-rind with a bronze
hook, poured away the oil which swam at the t