"Thou art right!" said Caius, justly. "On, O charioteer! Obey thou the Saxon. I forgot that he is a prince and a captain among his own people. I will make him a Roman yet. He should not be a barbarian."
Hardly might any less than a king, nor even a king except at great cost and for policy, obtain Roman citizenship, but this was the meaning of the words of Caius.
Then an arrow flew and struck him upon the left arm, wounding him; but he mentioned it not, for he saw that the charge was broken and that the Saxons came to march with the chariot.
"Not one of them is missing," he thought. "So much for broad shields and good mail. The rioters had weapons, but no armor, and they were slain as cattle. This arm of mine is but scratched."
"On!" commanded the jarl, to his men. "I heard the centurion say he is wounded. O Caius, how art thou?"
"A sting on my arm," replied Caius. "We shall soon be at the house. This is naught."
"Let me see it speedily," said Ulric. "I have picked up an arrow with a grooved head. Thou knowest what that meaneth."
"Haste! Haste!" shouted Caius. "This thing is of Herod, the jackal! I am lost."
But the tumult had been stricken to quiet and the ground was strewn with the dead. Now as they went there came swiftly armed horsemen of the governor and behind these marched the Iberian legionaries. No visible fault might be charged by Caius upon his host of the feast. Not far was it to his place of abiding, but when the chariot halted there he sprang down and entered in a gloomy silence, followed by the jarl.
"Home, now," commanded the officer of the legionaries. "Our duty is done."