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Agias felt that it was no time for expostulation. A Vestal Virgin take refuge on a pirate ship! But it was a matter of life and death now, and there was no time for forming another plan. Once let the mob overtake them, and the lives of all three were not worth a sesterce. Agias found it necessary to keep himself collected while he ran, or he would lose the way in the maze of streets.
And so some days passed while Cornelia crushed her fears, and waited for the news that she was sure would come that Cæsar was pressing on the tracks of his rival. Late one afternoon, as the king and his suite were just returned from a visit by boat up the river to inspect a temple under restoration at Sethroë, Agias sought the private apartment of his patroness.
He had told her of his adventure with Phaon not calling names, lest disagreeable consequences ensue and Artemisia dreamed of him as the cleverest creature on the earth, able to outwit Hermes in subtlety. Agias had found out when Pratinas was likely to be away from home and that worthy Hellene, be it said, never declined an invitation to dine with a friend and Agias timed his visits accordingly.
"Are you mad, fellow?" bawled Agias, while the porter, grasping him by the one hand, and the dim lamp by the other, dragged him into the house. "Do you know who I am? or what my business is? Do you want to have your master murdered?" "Perpol! Not in the least. That's why I do as I do. Tell your story to Falto. Eho! What's that you've got under your cloak?"
All this took time time which Drusus longed to be spending with Cornelia in shady and breezy Præneste, miles from unhealthy, half-parched Rome. Drusus had sent Agias ahead to Cornelia, as soon as the poor boy had recovered in the least from his brutal scourging.
In ordinary times she would have been tempted to go to one of the consuls and demand that Fonteia be overruled; but in ordinary times there would not have been the least need of adding to the already sufficient city watch. It lacked four hours of midnight before she brought herself to take her tablets and write the following brief note: "Fabia the Vestal to Agias her good friend, greeting.
Agias thought of the hollow civilities of Valeria's life, as he had seen it; of the outward decorum of language, of the delicately veiled compliments, of the interchange of words that summed up, in a few polished commonplaces, a whole network of low intrigue and passion. Was this the same world! Could Valeria and Artemisia both be women!
Agias realized that the weight of his burden was beginning to tell on even the iron frame of his cousin. The pursuers and pursued were drawing closer together. The mob was ever reenforced by relays; the handicap on Demetrius was too great. They had passed down the Vicus Tuscus, flown past the dark shadow of the lower end of the Circus Maximus.
Then again there was a clatter of hoofs, at the very moment when Agias had again remounted to the loophole. There were voices raised in questions and greetings; slave-boys were scampering to and fro to take the horses; Drusus with Pausanias and the Mamerci had returned from Lanuvium. Agias pressed his head out the loophole and screamed to attract attention.
Yes, they saw it indeed; but too high to dare try to pluck it. Only I, if you don't greatly mind, will be the bold tree-climber and pluck the apple." "But I do mind," cried Artemisia, all blushes, and springing a little back. Old Sesostris looked alarmed. "You you mean the girl no ill?" he faltered. Agias looked from the innocent little thing over to the Ethiop, snapped his finger, and replied:
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