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Updated: June 17, 2025
I take it that being put in supreme command of a great expedition will brush the cobwebs from Almo's brain and restore him to himself. Do you follow my idea?" "I cannot conjecture," Brinnaria replied, "how you expect to carry it out." "Simple enough," said Commodus. "I'm not the man my Father was, not by a great deal. I am a natural all-round athlete, but I was never born to be an Emperor.
All felt that the matter concerned only Aurelius and Brinnaria, that for anyone else to interfere would be flouting the Emperor. Brinnaria, white as a corpse, dizzy and numb, kept up the unvarying motion of her fan. Otherwise she was perfectly still. The victor rolled his eyes along the rows of spectators. He got no inkling of their feelings. He gazed at the Vestals.
"It was the p-p-pestilence." Pestilence! Brinnaria heard the word often during the next few days. Rome talked of little else. It had begun with a few deaths along the river front in the sailors' quarters, and among the stevedores and porters of the grain-warehouses, southwest of the Aventine Hill in the thirteenth ward.
"I am light built," Calvaster explained with obvious relish, "and I rode the best horse in Italy. His mount labored heavily under his load." "Both parents are then alive," spoke Faltonius. "I hereupon and hereby pronounce you in all respects fit to be taken as a Vestal. Are you willing?" "Not I!" Brinnaria fairly shouted. "Not willing!" Faltonius cried, incredulous.
It was soon over and Brinnaria no longer a Vestal, but a free woman. It had been arranged that immediately after her exauguration her successor should be taken as a Vestal there in the Atrium by Commodus himself as Chief Pontiff.
It is not impiety for a Vestal to be outside the city walls over night, it is merely forbidden by the rules. I'm going." "You might as well g-g-go b-b-bury yourself alive and b-b-be d-d-done with it," Flexinna protested. "You're certain to b-b-be found out. It's sure d-d-death for you." "Hang the risk!" Brinnaria snarled. "I never realized how much I loved Almo till you brought this news.
When they reached the top of the ridge enclosing the Lake, Vocco dismounted and trusted his roan to one of Nemestronia's extra bearers, as horses were not allowed within the Grove or its precincts. Not much before midnight the bearers swung sharply at the brink of the cliff and plunged down the steep narrow road cut along its face. Brinnaria felt the dampness of the lake air on her cheek.
The dozen or more other pairs of fighters were ignored, all eyes were on Almo and his opponent all eyes that did not stray towards Brinnaria. Almo was not showing any signs of weariness, but he was plainly husbanding his strength. The sixth bout was tame seldom had the Amphitheatre displayed so mild a set to.
Now, next point: How must the sieve be held?" The old man smiled again. "You keep close to the subject," he chuckled. "You talk like a grandmother of consuls. You have a head on your shoulders." "That does not answer my question," Brinnaria persisted. "Your question is easily answered," he said.
"Go down the steps," said Commodus to Brinnaria, "and yourself take the sieve from him." Brinnaria, on the lower step, reached over the water, and grasped the rim of the sieve which Truttidius held out to her. She held it up to the light. Its web was of black and white horse-hair, each thread alternately of a different color.
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