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Updated: April 30, 2025
"And it is really true that thou art admitted to those holy precincts?" "Behold!" Alyrus drew from the folds of his garment the bronze lizard. "Not only does this admit me to the temple itself but to any place in the city of Rome. Thou seest. It is the symbol of the priests of Jupiter." "I see," Lycias' eyes gleamed, as he watched Alyrus placing the precious symbol in a safe place.
He had not wit enough to know that when he sang a Christian hymn where any and all could hear it his life was in the greatest danger. He was stupid, downright stupid, but he had a keen eye, knew whom to trust and was possessed of an insatiable curiosity. Because, by instinct, he knew that Alyrus was up to some mischief, he followed him to see where he went. There was another reason.
Evidently this was an internal room, having no windows. Alyrus judged that it was lighted by day from an opening in the roof, covered with transparent material which withstood water. The rain began to beat upon it, and later, hailstones clattered by the thousands. Around the table sat six priests, ghostly in their white robes. Their faces were stern and gloomy.
A man could get into this gruesome building and never find his way out, thought Alyrus, and though a brave chieftain in his own country, he shivered here in the black corridors, echoing with every footfall. The priest conducted him to a large square room, with very high ceiling, lighted only by a single silver lamp having five branches, each of which contained a taper.
He felt approaching the glad hour of his revenge on those whom he despised. But he had not lost all caution. "What do I get as a reward for this knowledge which you so much desire?" The priest rose to his full height. His eyes blazed with anger and he raised his arm to strike Alyrus, who did not cringe but faced him boldly, though his dark cheeks grew livid.
He stepped quickly to the side of Alyrus, who had been very profound in his reverence to the god, although he hated Rome's gods as he hated her people. "Who is that young man?" inquired the priest. "The son of my master, Aurelius Lucanus." "And thou?" "I am a humble porter," responded Alyrus, with such bitterness that it attracted the priest's attention.
Apparently for the first time, the gladiator examined the Moor's face. Springing to his feet, he saluted in a military fashion. "Your pardon, my lord, I knew not that I had ventured to presume upon the kindness of Claudius Auranus, governor of Carthage." Alyrus stammered. "Be seated, sir, I I am not his excellency the governor of Carthage. I am a much humbler man, a chieftain of Tripoli." "Ah!
Alyrus and Alexis had cleared the table, watching with keen gaze the young people walking in the Pergola, beneath the heavy grape vine, whose leaves, pierced by the sun, cast queer shadows over Virgilia's white draperies and on her abundant hair, which threw back glints of copper tints to mock the shifting lights.
He prayed to Almighty God that he might show these poor deluded beings the better way to Eternal Life. The tall superior was more gracious to the lawyer who brought rich gifts than he had been to the slave Alyrus. When he learned the name of the donor, he was still more suave and his eyes were very keen.
Alyrus watched them because he hated them and longed for the moment when he could wreak his revenge. Alexis looked at them in love, for he, too, was a Christian, and the reason for the scene which Claudia had made in the garden on the day when Martius returned from exile, was well known to all the servants.
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