"What is to be done to him this night?" She glanced at him, one of her strange and sidelong glances. "Is he to be—crucified?"
Marius started in spite of himself.
"Who told thee?" he demanded.
"None told me," she answered. She raised her hands to her temples. "I felt it—here. So, I say that he shall not be crucified, nor harmed in any way at all. And thou must see to it!" She was like an imperious young empress, commanding her meanest slave.
"And if I will not?" said the slave, perversely.
Her child's mouth quivered.
"But thou wilt!" she pleaded. She laid a hand upon his bare sinewy arm, fingering the heavy golden armlet on it, and for a fleeting instant raised her eyes to his. "Thou wilt?" she repeated sweetly.
His dark face hardened against her wiles.
"The man hath played the traitor. He also is Saxon. Who knows but that he may set his fellows on again? Nay, lady wife; I fear thy man must die."
"Ah, no!" she begged. "It is the first request I make of thee—thou'lt not refuse it if I ask thee?"