Lycias, brave and strong man, grew sick at the dreadful suffering of delicate women, frail young girls accustomed to luxury, who were so suddenly thrown into surroundings and as they had never dreamed of.
All because of their faith? Lycias began to wonder what the power was which enabled these feeble creatures to face death with calmness and courage.
"There must be something in this religion of Jesus Christ which makes them forget themselves," he thought. "I will ask Lidia to tell me the secret."
In one corner of a dark, damp cell, several persons were kneeling in prayer. The voice of an old man could be heard, petitioning God, for Christ's sake, to lead them through this valley of the shadow of death and bring them to the holy city in its beauty and into the presence of their Lord and Master.
"There, that is Virgilia, the fair one, yonder, with face upraised," said Alyrus.
Lycias took a long look at the young girl, so that he would know her again.
"Next to her is Hermione, and Octavia, widow of Aureus Cantus and her son. All three are there!"
The laugh of the Moor was hideous in its coarseness. The young girls shivered and drew closer to Octavia.
"Fear not," Octavia whispered, smiling at them. God had given her great courage.
It was on this day that Alyrus, growing more confidential, told Lycias of the vessel lying in the River Tiber, ready to set sail as soon as he and Sahira went on board.