Sunk in gloomy reflections on these unpleasing details, Quintus sat staring at the ground. Suddenly he heard footsteps, and confused cries were audible in the distance, mingled with the clatter of swords and arms. The next minute two dark figures ran across the entrance to the rotunda, and up the narrow path towards the top of the hill. They were followed by two others, who came less rapidly than the first.
“Leave me, for Christ’s sake, I can go no farther!” groaned a piteous voice, which touched the young man strangely, and at the same time the light of the lamps fell on a pale and suffering face. Quintus recognized the victim he had seen at Baiae tied to the stake.
“Courage, Eurymachus,” whispered his companion, a square, thick-set man who held him stoutly up. “Hang on to my shoulders; a hundred steps farther, and you are safe.” And they disappeared among the shrubbery.
Quintus was not a little bewildered.
“What is going on here?” thought he, rising and quitting the open plot for one of the side paths. “Is this park peopled with demons?”
Again he heard steps and voices, more numerous and wrathful than before. “This way, men! There, up the path between the hedges!”
“Do not let them get away. Ten thousand sesterces to the man, who brings the villains back alive!”
And shouting thus in loud confusion, a party of armed men came in sight, running in breathless haste through the narrow paths. The foremost of them was now standing in front of Quintus.
“Make way, my lord!” he exclaimed in eager hurry: “We are seeking a criminal,” and he tried to push past Quintus.
Strange! but Quintus, the proud and high-born Quintus, suddenly felt an unaccountable impulse to protect and shield the wretched and contemned slave.