"I will cleave him to the jaws!" exclaimed Ulric, turning quickly.
But before he could move a pace or discern one man from another whom to strike a hand was upon his arm and he heard a whisper which thrilled him from head to foot.
"I am Miriam! I am now veiled! Harm not thyself nor me. I think he heard thee not. Strike not a Roman lest thou be crucified. Follow me, O beautiful one. Follow not too nearly, but mark well the house into which I go. The woman with me is my aunt. The Roman of whom she warned me is but a dealer in slaves—but he is a Roman. Come!"
"I follow thee, O my beloved," whispered the jarl, "but if he toucheth thee, he shall die if he were Cæsar!"
Sunken-eyed, hollow-cheeked, with a forehead low and sloping, was the dealer in human cattle who stood shortly at the street side without the portal. His lips were moving with an evil expression upon them, and his eyes had seen too well the exceeding beauty of the Jewish maiden.
"A thousand sesterces for her at Rome," he muttered. "How shall I obtain her? Pontius hath bidden us beware of angering the Jews."
Then he came forward a pace and spoke aloud, with small ceremony, to Ulric.
"She spoke unto thee, O gladiator. Who is she, and what doest thou here?"
Even for the sake of Miriam was the jarl somewhat calm in his manner and cunning in his speech, but his voice was unpleasant.