"And what in Rome is the punishment for such traitors, Licinia?" asked the young girl, still speaking slowly and measuredly.
"Death, my child," replied the old woman.
"Only death?" insisted Dea, whilst the puzzled look in her eyes became more marked, and the frown between her brows more deep.
"I do not understand thee, my precious one," said Licinia whose turn it was now to be deeply puzzled; "what greater punishment could there be for a traitor than that of death?"
"They torture slaves for lesser offences than that."
"Aye! and for sedition there is always the cross."
"The cross!" she murmured.
"Yes! Dost remember seven years ago in Judæa? There was a man who raised sedition among the Jews, and called himself their king—setting himself above Cæsar and above the might of Cæsar.... They crucified him. Dost remember?"
"I have heard of him," she said curtly. "What was his name?"
"Nay! I have forgot. Methinks that he came from Galilee. They did crucify him because of sedition, and because he set himself to be above Cæsar."