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Lycias caught the Moor in his arms to prevent his falling. The draperies Alyrus wore were disarranged and a small object fell, unnoticed by him, to the ground. Lycias placed his big, sandaled foot over this object. "Dog of a shepherd!" raved Alyrus, running after the man. Lycias stooped, picked up the small object and thrust it into his gown and soon reached the Moor by a few long strides.
It was one afternoon when she and Hermione accompanied by Marcus leaving Alyrus sleeping in the antechamber, had slipped out by a side entrance, joining the other Christians in the shadowy passageways of the underground cemeteries. An old man, with snowy beard and piercing eyes was reading aloud a letter, a letter from the Apostle Paul to those who were at Rome.
So dark was it that Alyrus did not observe that he was followed; did not see a strange figure with a sheep-skin flung over his back not far behind him, slipping from one doorway to another, hiding behind pillars, keeping the Moor ever in view. Lucius the shepherd knew only one thing, intelligently, and that was the knowledge of the Lord Jesus Christ. Even the most ignorant can learn this.
"I was late because I was watching him," Lucius nodded his head toward the door. "Who? the master? Surely thou wouldst not." "Be not so hasty, Lidia. It was not the master, but Alyrus." "Oh! he is worth watching," responded wise and observant Lidia. She was little thing, in spite of her twenty years, with a small face, old in anxiety, but sparkling with vivacity.
The crowd in front of Octavia's gate was now very menacing. The men were throwing stones over the wall and crying: "Down with the Christians!" "Way! Way for the daughter of Aurelius Lucanus, worshipper of the gods" cried Alyrus, and the crowd parted to let them through. Lidia, the scullery maid, stole out of the back door of her master's house.
To her, Lidia poured out the news brought her by Lucius, adding to these some things that her father did not know, which bore light upon the designs of Alyrus and his daughter, Sahira. The Old One listened, quietly. Then she laid her withered hand on Lidia's head, very gently. "Lie down and sleep, my child, and be at peace. The Lord is with thee. What the future holds we fear not."
While Alexis seated himself on the porter's marble bench just inside the front door, left open that the evening breeze blowing fresh and cool from the sea might pass through the heated rooms, Alyrus went into the narrow alley at the rear. Just outside, a man crouched against the brick wall.
Alyrus walked through the crowd like a king, as if he expected them to bow before him. "I've seen him before," said the first man. "Where was it? I remember now. It was he who sat in the ante-chamber of Aurelius Lucanus' office. He is his slave." "And is the honorable lawyer mixed up in this business?" "Who knows? One thing is certain.
Alyrus sat down and ordered his cup of fresh grape juice, with snow from Mt. Hermon to cool it in. As he sipped it, he saw the great gladiator, Lycias, come into the circle of light from the flaring torches, but he did not perceive the shepherd, who remained outside, in the shadow. Now, Lycias was a great man in the eyes of the Romans.
Alyrus bowed, keeping his eyes on his master and son, now approaching the splendid white marble law-courts. "What is thy country?" "Beyond the seas, your reverence." Alyrus turned a pair of black eyes on the questioner. In them smouldered hidden passions. "Your young master does not bow before Jupiter." "No." "And why, may I ask? His father is, I know, a faithful follower of our gods.
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