Caesar took his two friends, one by each hand, and led them back to his private study in the praetorium.

“The army is yours, Imperator,” said Curio, breaking a rather oppressive silence.  “The newest recruit is yours to the death.”

“Yes, to the death,” replied the general, abstractedly; and his keen eyes wandered down upon the mosaic, seemingly penetrating the stone and seeking something hidden beneath.  “The thirteenth legion,” he continued, “will do as a test of the loyalty of the others.  They will not fail me.  The eighth and the twelfth will soon be over the Alps.  Fabius is at Narbo with three.  They will check Pompeius’s Spaniards.  I must send to Trebonius for his four among the Belgae; he is sending Fabius one.”  And then, as if wearied by this recapitulation, Caesar’s eyes wandered off again to the pavement.

Drusus had an uneasy sensation.  What was this strange mingling of energy and listlessness?  Why this soliloquy and internal debate, when the moment called for the most intense activity?  The general being still silent, his friends did not venture to disturb him.  But Antiochus passed in and out of the study, gathering up writing materials, tablets, and books; and presently Drusus heard the freedman bidding an underling have ready and packed the marble slabs used for the tessellated floor of the Imperator’s tent—­a bit of luxury that Caesar never denied himself while in the field.  Presently the proconsul raised his eyes.  He was smiling; there was not the least cloud on his brow.

“There will be some public games here this afternoon,” he remarked, as though the sole end in view was to make their stay pleasant to his guests:  “I have promised the good people of the town to act as editor,[152] and must not fail to honour them.  Perhaps the sport will amuse you, although the provincials cannot of course get such good lanista-trained men as you see at Rome.  I have a new fencing school in which perhaps we may find a few threces[153] and retiarii,[154] who will give some tolerable sword and net play.”

  [152] President of the games.

  [153] Buckler and cutlass men.

  [154] Net and trident men.

“Hei!” groaned Curio, with a lugubrious whisper, “to think of it, I have never a sesterce left that I can call my own, to stake on the struggle!”

“At least,” laughed Drusus, “I am a companion of your grief; already Lentulus and Ahenobarbus have been sharing my forfeited estate.”

But the proconsul looked serious and sad.

“Vah, my friends!  Would that I could say that your loyalty to my cause would cost you nothing!  It is easy to promise to win back for you everything you have abandoned, but as the poets say, ’All that lies in the lap of the gods.’  But you shall not be any longer the mere recipients of my bounty.  Stern work is before us.  I need not ask you if you will play your part.  You, Curio, shall have a proper place on my staff of legates as soon as I have enough troops concentrated; but you, my dear Drusus, what post would best reward you for your loyalty?  Will you be a military tribune, and succeed your father?”