The games in the amphitheatre on this, the first day of November attracted an unusual number of persons.
The emperor was there, with all his court, and the Vestals honored the games with their presence. Alyrus sat in a prominent place, with Sahira, former slave of Aurelius Lucanus and maid to Claudia, beside him. The dark-faced girl attracted much attention, so great was her beauty. Freed by special decree of Caesar, at the request of Lycidon, the priest, she had, by her father's desire been dressed like a fashionable girl of the period.
"Dost see them coming?" asked Alyrus, eagerly. "Thine eyes are younger than mine. Dost see them yet?"
"No, father. It is only the gladiators. Ah! that Lycias is a king among men! how strong! how noble!"
A shade passed over the face of Alyrus the Moor.
"Yes. A fine youth, yet—I wish that I had not lost that bronze lizard, Sahira. It bodes misfortune. Rome is not a safe place for us, in spite of the favor of Lycidon. We must go as soon as the games are over. Could it be possible that Lycias—"
"Look, father, see Lycias, the conqueror. The emperor smiles upon him; a lady has thrown him a jewel. He bows. He is gone. How proud he must be!"
"And now, they will come! See, yonder, Sahira, that group of white-robed men and women. Ha! hear the wild beasts, how they growl in their cages, pawing the bars, pleading to be let loose."
Alyrus, wild with gratified hatred, his face as evil as that of a demon, leaned far over that he might lose nothing of the pitiful drama about to be enacted in the arena.
The Christians came forward slowly, the women clinging together in their physical weakness, though their souls were strong in the strength of their faith.