“The gods reward you!” he repeated.  “So she believes in the gods, that there are gods, and that they care for us struggling men.  Ah!  Caius, Caius Curio; if the mob had murdered you that day you protected Caesar after he spoke in the Senate in favour of the Catilinarians, where would you be to-day?  Whence have you come?  Whither do you go?  What assurance have you that you can depend on anything, but your own hand and keen wits?  What is to become of you, if you are knocked on the head in that adventure to-morrow?  And yet that woman believes there are gods!  What educated man is there that does?  Perhaps we would, if we led the simple lives our fathers did, and that woman lives.  Enough of this!  I must be over letters to Caesar at Ravenna till midnight:  and then at morn off to gallop till our horses are foundered.”

Chapter X

Mamercus Guards the Door

I

Agias left Phaon in the clutches of the landlord and his subordinates and was reasonably certain that since the freedman had not a farthing left with which to bribe his keepers, he was out of harm’s way for the time being.  The moon was risen, and guided by its light the young slave flew on toward Praeneste without incident.  Whatever part of the conspirator’s plans depended on Phaon was sure to collapse.  For the rest, Agias could only warn Drusus, and have the latter arm his clients and slaves, and call in his friends from the town.  With such precautions Dumnorix could hardly venture to risk himself and his men, whatever might be the plot.

Thus satisfied in mind, Agias arrived at the estate of the Drusi, close to Praeneste, and demanded admittance, about two hours before midnight.  He had some difficulty in stirring up the porter, and when that worthy at last condescended to unbar the front door, the young Greek was surprised and dismayed to hear that the master of the house had gone to visit a farm at Lanuvium, a town some fifteen miles to the south.  Agias was thunderstruck; he had not counted on Drusus being absent temporarily.  But perhaps his very absence would cause the plot to fail.

“And what time will he return?” asked Agias.

“What time?” replied the porter, with a sudden gleam of intelligence darting up in his lack-lustre eyes.  “We expect he will return early to-morrow morning.  But the road from Lanuvium is across country and you have to skirt the Alban Mount.  He may be rather late in arriving, drives he ever so hard.”

“Hercules!” cried the agitated messenger.  “My horse is blown, and I don’t know the road in the dark.  Send, I pray you—­by all the gods—­to Lanuvium this instant.”

“Aye,” drawled the porter, “And wherefore at such an hour?”

“It’s for life and death!” expostulated Agias.

The porter, who was a thick-set, powerful man, with a bristly black beard, and a low forehead crowned by a heavy shock of dark hair, at this instant thrust out a capacious paw, and seized Agias roughly by the wrist.