. Brawny arms were pushing a movable arena. Swiftly it came
into that ample space between the king and the great fountain. Behind
its iron bars a large lion paced up and down. Two hundred mounted men
of the cohort stood in triple rank some fifty paces from the scene.
Vergilius, on a white charger, was in front of the column.

While Arab slaves pushed the arena into place, David came and touched
the arm of the young tribune. He whispered, eagerly: "My sister, Cyran
the Beloved, is here. She is waiting at the castle."

"Whence came she?" said the tribune, with astonishment.

"From the port of Ascalon, where she arrived by trireme with Appius.
They were wrecked, finding shore in a far country. There the friend of
Caesar, Probus Sulpicius Quirinus, discovered them on his way from
Carthage, and brought them hither."

Appius, fearing Antipater, had waited by the sea while Cyran came to
find her brother and Vergilius. The prince's threat and the words of
Caesar had checked his feet with caution. He forbade Cyran to tell any
one of the presence of Arria.

"And where is my friend?" Vergilius demanded.

"He waits on the ship to hear from you--whether it be safe to come. It
seems Antipater has threatened him."

"Tell Cyran I would have her come to me. Then find my orderly and bid
him bring Appius hither by the way of Bethlehem. If he arrives there
before the end of the third watch he will see my fire-light on the
hill."

David left the scene as a powerful Thracian, standing by the arena's
gate, saluted the king. Entering, the gladiator engaged the lion with
his lance. Incautiously he pressed his weapon too far, drawing blood.
Before he could set his lance the wild foe was upon him. A leap into
the air, a double stroke of the right fore-paw, and down fell the
beast, while the man reeled, with rent tunic, and caught the side of
the arena. In a twinkling, as he clung feebly, he reddened from head
to toe. Three bestiarii had thrust in their lances and held the lion
back; others opened a gate and removed the dying gladiator. Herod,
leaning over, beckoned to the master of the games.

"A noble lion!" said he, his voice trembling. "Save him for the battle
of the pit."

Now, in pursuance of the order of the king, a pit had been dug and
walled with timber near that place where the fighter had met his death.
A score of slaves forthwith lowered the arena into the pit with ropes.
Herod and all who sat with him co