The butcher heaved his handle high and smote. A stream of blood gushed over the hands of Scuda; the head fell with a thud, and rolled away over the stone flags.
At that moment the legionaries burst into the hall. Barbatio, Apodemus, and Scuda hurried to the opposite door, the headsman remaining at a loss; but Scuda muttered in his ear—
"Take Cæsar's head, so that the legionaries may not recognise the body. It's a question of life or death for us all!"
"He was not a thief then?" faltered the executioner, in amazement.
He found it difficult to carry this shaven head; at first he slid it under an arm, but it became uncomfortable; then, slipping his hooked thumb into the mouth, he managed to bear off the skull of him before whom so many heads had once bowed down.
Julian, on learning the death of his brother, said quietly to himself—