's
written order to release this man Maternus--if you can!"

Narcissus, like all gladiators, had been trained in facial control lest
an antagonist should be forewarned by his expression. Nevertheless, he
was hard put to it to hide the fear that seized him. He supposed not
even Marcia would dare openly to come to Sextus' rescue.

"That man is my only friend," he said. "Let me have word with him
first."

"Not one word!"

The centurion made a gesture with his head. The guards took Sextus by
the arms and marched him out into the night, he knowing better than to
waste energy or arouse anger by resisting.

"Then I will go to the commander! I go straight to him," Narcissus
stammered. "Idiot! Don't you know that Marcia protects Maternus?
Otherwise, how should an outlaw whose face is so well known that you
recognized him instantly--how should he dare to approach the palace?"

The centurion touched his forehead.

"Mad, I daresay! Go on in. Get Marcia's protection for him. Bring me
her command in writing! Wait, though--let me look at you."

He made Narcissus throw his heavy cloak off, clean his legs and change
into his other foot-gear. Then he examined his costume.

"Even on a night like this they'd punish me for letting a man pass who
wasn't dressed right. Let me see, you're not free yet; you don't have
to wear a toga. I spend half my days teaching clodhoppers how to fold
hired togas properly behind the neck. It's the only way you can tell a
slave from a citizen these days! The praetorian guard ought to be
recruited from the tailors' shops! Lace up your sandal properly. Now--
any weapons underneath that tunic?"

Sullenly Narcissus held his arms up and submitted to be searched. He
usually came and went unchallenged, being known as one of Caesar's
favorites, but the centurion's suspicions were aroused. They were almost
confirmed a moment later. The decurion returned and laid a long, lean
dagger on the table.

"Taken from the prisoner," he reported. "It was hidden beneath his
tunic. He looks desperate enough to kill himself, so I left two men to
keep an eye on him."

The centurion scratched his chin again, his mouth half-open.

"Whom do you propose to visit in the palace?" he demanded.

"Marcia," said Narcissus.

The centurion turned to the decurion.

"Go you with him. Hand him over to the hall-attendants. Bid them pass
him from hand to hand into Marcia's presence. Don't return until you
hav