Not a soul was in the wood, but the incendiaries, in the roaring of the wind and the moaning of the cypresses, imagined that they heard voices.
Aragaris began to run.
"Take me on your shoulders, comrade! You've long legs."
Aragaris halted; Strombix sprang on the shoulders of the Sarmatian like a squirrel, and they fled away. The little Syrian dug his knees into his companion's ribs, and put his arms round his neck to avoid falling. In spite of his fear he laughed and shouted with joy. The pair gained the open field. Between the clouds, the moon in its last quarter was shining, and the wind roared harshly. Strombix on the giant's shoulders seemed an evil spirit riding his victim to hell. The idea in fact suddenly struck Aragaris that the Demon, in the shape of a great cat, was hunting him along with his claws to the abyss. The giant made desperate bounds to shake off his burden. The hair bristled on his head, and he yelled with terror. The black, double figure of the pair running, stooped towards the dry, hard earth, over the withered fields, was silhouetted against the pale horizon.
At the same hour, in his chamber in the palace at Antioch, Julian was having a secret interview with the prefect Sallustius Secundus—
"Where shall we obtain, well-beloved Cæsar, the necessary food for such an army?"
"I'll send to Sicily, to Egypt, to Apulia, in all directions where the harvests are abundant," answered the Emperor. "I can answer for it that there will be food enough...."
"And money?" asked Sallustius. "Would it not be better to postpone this campaign till next year? Wait a little?"
Julian strode up and down the room. Suddenly he halted before the other man.