CHAPTER IX.
The company of soldiers, who had been sent by the city-prefect in pursuit of the Batavian and his companions, had given up the chase at a short distance from Ardea. They rode slowly into the town, and rapped with their sword-hilts at the door of the little old tavern till the innkeeper crept grumpily out of his bed, and let them in. A stable boy unsaddled the horses, while Ciconia, the host’s unprepossessing wife, brought out a dish of smoked cheese,[69] some loaves, and a jar of red wine from Veii.
While his men sat round the stone table and burned their parched throats with coarse liquor, the captain walked up and down the room reflecting with little satisfaction indeed on the events of the night. He wondered why the fugitives had selected the road through Ardea. The Via Appia would have been wider, more convenient, and safer for strangers unfamiliar with the district, while the road to Ardea, with its many inequalities and turnings, would seem to give the pursuers, who were more familiar with them, an appreciable advantage. The more he thought of it, the more convinced he became that Antium must have been the goal of their hopes. But, in that case, the refugees must have intended to sail from Antium and reach one of the neighboring islands, or perhaps even Sardinia or Corsica. And in that case it would not be difficult to find out who had undertaken to convey them. Thus all was not yet lost. He took up a cup of wine and emptied it at a draught. Then, turning to the hostess, he asked in great excitement:
“Ciconia, have you a horse?”
“No, my lord; what do you want it for?”
“I must get on to Antium immediately, and our beasts are tired to death.”
Ciconia reflected.
“Well,” she said, “there is a horse, no doubt, in the stable—standing there since noon. It belongs to a trader out of Metapontum[70]—but I do not know whether he would allow it.”
“He must; or, better still, why should he ever know it? I shall be back again in a few hours. I will leave all our horses in pledge with you, and pay for your nasty verjuice as if it were Falernian. Make no ceremony.”