into the plunge. She did not even
wear the customary bracelet with its numbered metal disk; not even the
attendants at the Thermae would presume to lose the clothing of the
mistress of the emperor. Commodus, who at the age of twelve had flung a
slave into the furnace because the water was too hot, would have made
short work of any one who mislaid Marcia's apparel.

She did not belie her reputation. It was no wonder that the sculptors
claimed that every new Venus they turned out was Marcia's portrait. Her
beauty, as her toes touched water, was like that of Aphrodite rising
from the wave. The light from the dome shone golden on her brown hair
and her glossy skin. She was a thing of sensuous delight, incapable of
coarseness, utterly untouched by the suggestion of vulgarity, and yet--

"It is strange she should take up with fancy religions," said Pertinax
under his breath.

She was pagan in every gesture, and not a patrician. That was
indefinable but evident to trained eyes. Neither he, who knew her
intimately, nor the newest, newly shaven son of a provincial for the
first time exploring the wonders of Rome, could have imagined her as
anything except a rich man's mistress.

She plunged into the pool and swam like a mermaid, her companions
following, climbed out at the farther end, where the diving-boards
projected in tiers, one above the other, and passed through a bronze
door into the first of the sweating rooms, evidently conscious of the
murmur of comment that followed her, but taking no overt notice of it.

"Who is to be the next to try to reason with her--you?" asked Boltius
Livius.

"No, not I. I have shot my bolt," said Pertinax and closed his eyes, as
if to shut out something from his memory--or possibly to banish thoughts
he did not relish. There came a definite, hard glint into Livius's
eyes; he had a name for being sharper to detect intrigue and its
ramifications than even the sharp outline of his face would indicate.

"You have heard of her latest indiscretion?" he asked, narrowly watching
Pertinax. "There is a robber at large, named Maternus--you have heard
of him? The man appears and disappears. Some say he is the same
Maternus who was crucified near Antioch at about the time when you were
there; some say he isn't. He is reported to visit Rome in various
disguises, and to be able to conduct himself so well that he can pass
for a patrician. Some say he has a large band; some say, hardl