As the Gardens of Verus are north of the Tiber we had no difficulty whatever in casting a wide circuit to the left and coming out on the Aurelian Highway. All the way to it we had met no one; on it we met no one. After striking the highway we walked along it as fast as we dared. We should have liked to run a mile or two, but we were careful to comport ourselves as wayfarers and not act so as to appear fugitives. The night was overcast and pitch dark. We must have walked fully four miles, which is about one third of the way to Loria.

Then, being tired and with no reason whatever for going anywhere in particular, we sat down to rest on the projecting base-course of a pretentious tomb of great size but much neglected. It was so dilapidated, in fact, that Agathemer, feeling about by where he sat, found an aperture big enough for us to crawl into. It began to rain and we investigated the opening. Apparently this huge tomb had been hastily built by dishonest contractors, for here, low down, where the substructure should have been as durable and solid as possible, they had cheapened the wall by inserting some of those big earthenware jars which are universally built into the upper parts of high walls to lighten the construction. A slab of the external shell of gaudy marbles had fallen out, leaving an aperture nearly as big as the neck of the great jar.

As the rain increased to a downpour we wriggled and squirmed through the hole, barely squeezing ourselves in, and found the jar a bit dusty but dry and comfortable. We wrapped ourselves in our cloaks, rejoicing to be out of the torrent of water which now descended from the sky. Also we composed ourselves to sleep, if we could.

We discussed our situation. We had our tunics, cloaks, umbrella hats and road shoes, but no staffs, wallets or extras. Agathemer mourned for his flageolet. Between us we had seven silver denarii and a handful of coppers; Maternus had given Agathemer four denarii, as he had me, but early in the day, and he had broken one to buy two meals.

He said that Caburus had either feared to make an attempt on Commodus, or judged that no opportunity presented itself. Of Cossedo he knew no more than I. Caburus had turned him over to two ruffians to watch and he had eluded them in the crowds and made his way to the Gardens of Verus expressly to find me, if possible, and help me to escape.

He said that our coins could not be made to last any length of time. Nor could we well beg our way so near the city. Our store of gems in our amulet-bags was of no use, because, as he said, he was personally known to every gem-expert in Rome. Perusia was the nearest town to northward where he might hope to find prompt secret buyers for gems of dubious ownership; Perusia was far beyond the reach of two footfarers, without wallets and with only seven denarii.

We argued that, whatever happened, the wisest course was to get some sleep. Agathemer declared that we could fast over next day and night, if necessary, and that we had best keep in our hole till next night, anyhow. I acceded and we went to sleep.

We were waked by loud voices in altercation. The sky had cleared, the late moon was half way up, and we conjectured that the time was about midway between midnight and dawn, the time when all roads are most deserted.

Close to us, plain in the brilliant moonlight, were two stocky men on roan or bay horses. The moonlight was bright enough to make it certain that they were wearing the garb of Imperial couriers. The trappings of their horses, frontlets, saddle cloths, saddle bags and all suited their attire.

But their actions, words, accents and everything about them was most discordant with their horses and equipment.

Both were so drunk that they could just stick on their stationary and impassive mounts, so drunk that they talked thickly. And they were disputing and arguing and wrangling with their voices raised almost to a shout. Thickly as they talked, we had listened to them but a few moments when we were sure that they were low-class highwaymen who had robbed two Imperial couriers, tied and gagged them, changed clothes with them and ridden off on their horses, but had stopped to drink, raw and unmixed, the couriers' overgenerous supply of heady wine; two kid-skins, by their utterances. Now they were reviling each other, each claiming a larger proportion of the coins than he had.

Here was a present from Mercury, indeed. It was a matter of no difficulty to crawl out of our hole, to approach Carex and Junco, as they called each other, to pluck their daggers from their sheaths and to render the highwaymen harmless, to pull them from their saddles, tie their hands with the lashings of their saddle-bags and to gag them with strips torn from their tunics; for they were too drunk to know that they were being attacked; so drunk that each, as we dragged him from his horse, fancied that the other was assaulting him and expostulated at such unfair behavior on the part of a pal. So drunk were they that both were snoring before we tied their feet with more strips torn from their tunics.

Like sacks we hauled them out of the moonlight, into the shadow of the tomb and then stripped them except of their tunics, fitted on ourselves the accoutrements they had stolen, and thrust them, trussed, gagged, snoring and helpless, into the hole where we had taken shelter.

On horseback we rode like couriers, full gallop, passed Loria before the first hint of dawn showed through the moonlight and, about half way between Fregena and Alsium turned aside into a lovely little grove about an old shrine of Ops Consiva, a grove whose beauty and the openness of whose tree-embowered, grass-carpeted spaces was plain even by the moonlight.

As soon as it was light enough to see we took stock of our windfall. The horses were both bays and of the finest; their trappings new and in perfect condition. Our attire was made up of the best horsemen's boots, a trifle too large for us, but not enough to be so noticeable as to betray us, or even enough to make us uncomfortable; of horsemen's long rain- cloaks and of excellent umbrella hats, all of the regulation material, design and color. In the saddle-bags were excellent blankets, our despatches, legibly endorsed with the name, Munatius Plancus, of the official at Marseilles to whom we were to deliver them; and our credentials, entitling us to all possible assistance from all men and to fresh horses at all change-houses. From these diplomas we learned that our names were Sabinus Felix and Bruttius Asper.

This crowned our luck. We crowed with glee over the unimaginably helpful coincidence that these diplomas should be made out for couriers with the very names which we had chosen at haphazard at the commencement of our flight and had been using to each other ever since.

The provision of cash was ample: besides plenty of silver there was more than enough gold to have carried us all the way to Marseilles, on the most lavish scale of expenditure, without resorting to our credentials to get us fresh horses.

We ate liberally of the couriers' generous provision of bread, cheese, sausage, olives and figs; well content to quench our thirst at the spring by the shrine. Then we muffled ourselves in our cloaks, tightened the straps of our umbrella hats, jammed them down on our heads, pulled the brims over our faces, mounted and set off, elated, sure of ourselves, well fed, well clad, well horsed, opulent, accredited, gay.

As couriers vary in their theories of horse-husbanding and in their practice of riding, we had a wide choice, and elected to get every mile we could out of these fine horses and not change until as far as possible from Rome. We found their most natural lope and, pausing to drink and to water them sparingly at the loneliest springs we descried, we pressed on through or past the Towers, Pyrgos, and Castrum Novum to Centumcellae. That was all of forty-one miles from the shrine of Ops Consiva and full fifty from Rome, but, partly because we had to spare ourselves, as we had not been astride of a horse since we crawled through the drain at Villa Andivia, we so humored our horses that we arrived in a condition which the ostler took as a matter of course, and it was then not quite noon, which we both considered a feat of horsemanship.

At Centumcellae we ate liberally and enjoyed the inn's excellent wine. Also we set off on strong horses. From there only the danger of getting saddle-sick after our long disuse of horses and the certainty of getting saddle-sore, as we did, restrained us. We tore on through Martha, Forum Aurelii, and a nameless change-house, spurring and lashing as much as we dared, for we dared not disable ourselves with blisters, changing at each halt and getting splendid horses, our diplomas unquestioned. Thus at dusk we reached Cosa, forty-nine miles from Centumcellae and a hundred and nine miles from Rome.

We dreaded that we should wake too sore to ride, perhaps too sore to mount, perhaps even too sore to get out of bed. But, while stiff and in great pain, we managed to breakfast and get away.

That day we, perforce, rode with less abandon, though we both felt less discomfort after we warmed to the saddle. We nooned at Rosellae, thirty- three miles on, and slept at Vada, the port of Volaterrae, fifty-six miles further, a day of eighty miles. Next day we were, if anything, yet sorer and stiffer, certainly we were less frightened. So we took it easier, nooning at Pisa, thirty miles on, and sleeping at Luna, thirty-five further, a day of only sixty-five miles, rather too little for Imperial couriers. Our third morning we woke feeling hardened and fit: we made thirty-nine miles before noon and ate at Bodetia; from there we pushed on forty-five miles to Genoa, an eighty-four mile day, more in character.

At Genoa we were for taking the coast road. We were all for haste. We had ridden amazingly well for men who had not been astride of a horse for nearly a year; we had ridden fairly well for Imperial couriers; but we had not ridden fast enough to suit ourselves. From Cosa onward we had been haunted by the same dread. We had imagined the real Bruttius Asper and Sabinus Felix reporting their loss of everything save their tunics, we imagined the hue and cry after us, the most capable men in the secret service, riding fit to kill their horses on our trail. At Cosa, at Vada, at Luna we had waked dreading to find the avengers up with us and ourselves prisoners; at Rosellae, at Pisa, at Bodetia, we had eaten with one eye on the door, expecting every instant to see our pursuers enter; so at every change-station, while our trappings were taken from our weary cattle and girthed on fresh mounts. So we were for the coast road as shortest.

But the innkeeper, who was also manager of the change-stables, told us that between Genoa and Vada Sabatia the road was blocked by landslides, washouts and the destruction of at least three bridges by freshets. He advised us to take the carriage-road by Dertona, the Mineral Springs, Crixia and Canalicum. But we thought of the pursuers thundering after us and anyhow we wanted none of Dertona, recalling our encounter with Gratillus at Placentia. We took the coast road, and, though we had to ford two streams and swam our horses over one, although we had to slide down slopes and toil up others afoot, leading our horses after us, although a full third of the road was mere rough track, like a wild mountain trail, though the distance was all of forty-five miles, yet we slept at Vada Sabatia, very thankful to have done in one day what would have taken us at least three by the hundred and fifty-one mile mountain-detour through Dertona, and still more thankful for the lonely safety of the coast road.

From Vada Sabatia the coast road was better, but still far from easy. We were well content to noon at a tiny change-house between Albingaunum and Albintimilium and to sleep at Lumo, seventy-seven miles on. Next morning early, only six miles from Lumo, but six miles of hard climbing up a twisty, rock-cut road, we came out at its crest, where there is a wonderful view up and down the coast and out southwards to sea, and there passed the boundary of Italy and entered Gaul. That night we slept at Matavonium, eighty-four miles forward and but seventy-four miles from Marseilles.

So far we had had no adventures, had been accepted without question everywhere, had seen no look of suspicion from anyone, had encountered no other couriers, except those whom we met and passed on the road, we and they lashing, spurring and hallooing, each party barely visible to the other through the cloud of dust both raised.

On that day, our eighth out from Rome, at noon at Tegulata, we had adventure enough.

The common room of the inn was low-ceiled, I could have jumped and touched the carved beams with my hand. But it was very large indeed, something like thirty yards long and fully twenty yards wide, with two Tuscan columns about ten yards apart in the middle of it, supporting the seven great beams, smoke-blackened till their carving was blurred, on which the ceiling-joists were laid. The floor was of some dark, smooth-grained stone, polished by the feet which had trod it for generations; there were six wide-latticed windows, and, opposite the door, a great fire-place, with an ample chimney above and four bronze cranes for pots or roasts. Each arm had several chains and actually, when we entered, four pots were boiling, and a kid was roasting over the cunningly bedded fire of clear red coals, the fresh caught wood at the back, where the smoke would not disflavor the roasting meat. It was the most civilized inn we had entered on our post-ride and spoke of the nearness of Marseilles, though every detail of its construction, furnishings and methods was Gallic, not Greek.

Unlike our inns, where the drink and food is set on low, round-topped, one-legged, three-footed tables, about which are placed the backless stools or low-backed, wooden-seated chairs on which the customers sit, it had, Gallic fashion, big, heavy-topped, high-set, rectangular, six-legged tables with benches along their long sides, others with chairs, like those at the ends of every table; solid, high-backed chairs, comfortable for the guests, whose knees were well under the high-topped, solid-legged tables.

Agathemer and I took seats at the table in the far corner to the right of the door; only two of the five were occupied, and they by but two at each; plainly local customers. We told the host that we were in haste and asked for whatever fare he had ready. He brought us an excellent stew of fowl, with bread and wine and recommended that we wait till he had broiled some sea-fish, saying they were small but toothsome, fresh-caught and would be ready in a few moments. The fish tempted us, and, so near Marseilles, we felt no hurry at all, for we meant to loiter on the road and pass the gate about an hour before sunset, calculating that the later in the day we arrived the better chance we had of delivering our despatches, as we must, without being exposed as not the men we passed for, and of somehow disembarrassing ourselves of our accoutrements and donning ordinary attire bought at some cheap shop.

As we sat, tasting the eggs, shrimps, and such like relishes before attacking the stew, which was too hot as yet, there entered two men in the attire of Imperial couriers. Agathemer kept his face, but I am sure I turned pale. I expected, of course, that they would walk over to our table, greet us, ask our names, and like as not turn out intimates of Bruttius Asper and Sabinus Felix, so that we would be exposed then and there.

But they merely saluted, perfunctorily, and took seats at the table nearest the door on their left, diagonally the whole space of the room from us. Agathemer and I returned their salute as precisely as we could imitate it, thankful that they had saluted, so as to let us see what the couriers' salute was, for we had felt much anxiety all along the road, since neither of us, often as we had seen it, could recall it well enough to be sure of giving it properly, if we met genuine couriers, or, terrible thought, encountered an inspector making sure that the service was all it should be and on the outlook for irregularities.

The moment they were at the table they bawled for instant service, urged the host, reviled the slaves, fell on their food like wolves, eating greedily and hurriedly and guzzling their wine. We could catch most of their orders, but of their almost equally loud conversation, since they talked with their mouths full, we caught only the words "Dertona" and "Crixia"; these comforted us; either they had left Rome before us and we had overtaken them, or they came from Ancona or somewhere on the road from Ancona to Dertona or more likely from Aquileia, or somewhere on the road from it, or perhaps even from beyond it.

They disposed of relishes, boiling stew, a mountain of bread, and a lake of wine, besides olives and fruit, in an incredibly short time, and then, again perfunctorily saluting us, rushed out.

Our fish had just been served and were as good as prophesied. A moment after the exit of the couriers there entered a plump, pompous individual, every line of whose person and attire advertised him a local dandy, while every lineament and expression of his face, his every attitude and movement, equally proclaimed him a busybody.

He walked straight to our table, bowed to us and nodded to one of the slave-waiters, who instantly and obsequiously vanished. Our new table- companion at once entered into conversation with us, speaking civilly, but with an irritating self-sufficiency.

"Gentlemen," he said, "I am acquainted with many of your calling who pass through here, but I do not recall having ever seen you before. My estates are near Tegulata and I am chiefly concerned with wine-growing. My wines, indeed, are reckoned the best between Baeterrae and Verona. My name is Valerius Donnotaurus; may I know yours?"

I kept my eyes on his face as I introduced Agathemer as Bruttius Asper and he me as Sabinus Felix. It seemed to me that his expression was not altogether free from a momentary gleam of suspicion; but my anxiety might have seen what was not there, I could not be sure. At any rate he bowed politely, asked me whence we came, when we had left Rome, and the latest news. He commended our speed and our having overcome the difficulties of the coast road between Genoa and Vada Sabatia.

The waiter, according to some subtle characteristic of his nod, brought wine for three, which he assured us was wine from his estates, though not his best, yet worth trying, and he invited us to drink with him. We could not well refuse and we were glad to be able to praise the wine, which, for Gallic wine, was really not so bad. Before we had finished our fish he excused himself and went out.

We dallied with our food, counting on giving the two couriers time to get away before we came out into the courtyard. But we learned afterwards that, as we had shown our credentials and ordered fresh horses before we entered the inn, the change-master would not give them the two best horses which he was holding ready for us and had in the yard no other horses. They had demanded our fresh horses, cursed him and blustered, but could not move him and so were still berating him when Donnotaurus came out to them. He, after introducing himself, asking their names and route and, commiserating them on the poor supply of horses, had casually inquired whether they were acquainted with two couriers named Bruttius Asper and Sabinus Felix. On their answering that they knew both of them he had chatted a while longer and then asked them to reËnter with him the inn's common-room, alleging that they could assist him on an important matter touching the service of the Emperor. According to the change-master, who told us all this later, they had complied in a hesitating and unwilling manner, as if numb and bewildered.

We, dallying over some excellent fruit and the not unpalatable wine, knowing nothing of all this, saw the three reËnter together and approach us, the couriers looking not only reluctant, but dazed: up to us Donnotaurus led them.

"Do you know these gentlemen?" he demanded.

"Never set eyes on them in my life," one of them disclaimed. The other nodded.

"I thought so!" Donnotaurus cried. "These men claim to be Bruttius Asper and Sabinus Felix. You say you know Bruttius Asper and Sabinus Felix. You do not know these men. Therefore they are passing under false names. They are not Imperial couriers, but some of the scoundrels who have been posing as Imperial couriers and using the post-roads for their own private ends. I thank you for assisting me to expose them. It now remains to arrest them!"

I had thought when the two entered first and saluted us that their expression of face was queer; now it was queerer: they looked like some of the deer we had seen in the net-pocket at Spinella, frantic to escape and seeing no way out.

One mumbled something about having barely seen Bruttius Asper and Sabinus Felix and not being sure that we were not they. But Donnotaurus neither heard nor heeded.

"Here, Tectosax!" he called to the host, "come help us arrest these men!
They are bogus! They are shams! They are not couriers!"

"One man arrest two!" the host demurred.

"I only want your help," Donnotaurus bawled. "Call Arecomus and the ostlers. They can make short work of it."

At this point Agathemer found his voice, and he spoke steadily, coolly and firmly, even with a bit of a drawl.

"Don't do anything you will have to be sorry for," he said. "Better not make any mistake."

At his utterance the two couriers were manifestly even more uncomfortable than before. But Donnotaurus only bawled louder to the host.

"I don't arrest travellers," the host protested, "I feed 'em. Arecomus don't arrest travellers, he horses 'em. Anyhow, there's no magistrate here; talking of arresting is folly.

"And I wish you'd quit your foolishness, Donnotaurus. This is the third row you've started here within six months. You're giving my inn a bad name and ruining my trade. You're my best customer, yourself, but you are more nuisance than all the rest of my customers put together. I'd rather you'd move out of the neighborhood or keep away from my inn than go on with such nonsense. I don't want anybody arrested on my premises or threatened with arrest. And you've nothing to go on in this case, anyhow."

Donnotaurus appeared at a loss, but obstinate and about to insist, when the doors opened and there entered a bevy of staff officers, all green and gold and blue and silver, clustered about a huge man in the full regalia of a general, his crimson plumes nodding above his golden helmet, his crimson cloak dangling about his golden cuirass, his gilt kilt-straps gleaming over his crimson tunic-skirt. There was no mistaking that incredible expanse of face, seemingly as big as the body of an ordinary man, those bleary gray eyes under the shaggy eyebrows, their great baggy lower lids, the heavy cheeks and the vast sweep of russet beard.

It was Pescennius Niger himself!

As he was later proclaimed Emperor and narrowly missed overcoming his competitors and emerging master of the world, the mere encounter has a certain interest. Its details, I think, even more.

Up to us he strode.

"What's all this?" he demanded in his big, authoritative voice. Agathemer and I stood up and saluted.

I expected Agathemer, who knew the value of speaking first, to anticipate
Donnotaurus, but he let Donnotaurus give his version of the affair.

"I'm competent to decide this," said Pescennius, "and I shall."

And he eyed us, asking: "What have you two to say?"

"In the first place," said Agathemer, "I ask you to examine our papers."

He took from the seat of his chair, where he had placed it as he stood up, our despatch bag, opened it, and displayed its contents; the package of despatches, our credentials, and the diploma entitling us to change of horses, with the endorsement of each change-master from Centumcellae onwards.

Pescennius examined these meditatively.

"These papers," he said, "are in perfect order. But they do not prove that you are the men named in them though they incline me to believe it. I should believe it, but these men deny that you are Bruttius Asper and Sabinus Felix."

"And why do they deny it?" Agathemer queried triumphantly. "Why, because they were caught by this busybody and asked whether they knew Bruttius Asper and Sabinus Felix and they said they did; then haled in here by him and confronted with us and asked whether they knew us and of course said they did not, as they did not. And why do they not know us? Because they are not couriers at all, but men passing themselves off as couriers. Our papers are in perfect order, as you say. Ask them for their papers. They haven't any!"

By the faces of the two I saw that Agathemer had guessed right. They, in fact, were impostors. They had no despatches, no credentials, no papers at all, except a diploma with entries from Bononia, through Parma, Placentia and Clastidium to Dertona and so onwards; a diploma so manifestly a clumsy forgery that, at sight of it, I wondered how it had fooled the stupidest change-master.

Pescennius barely glanced at it. To his apparitors, he said:

"Arrest these three!"

In a trice Donnotaurus and the two impostors were seized.

To us he said:

"Gentlemen, I apologize for having doubted you, even for a moment. And I thank you for having so cleverly and quietly exposed these precious gentry. I shall keep an eye on them and on this local meddler; I'll investigate them in Marseilles.

"Meantime I must eat. So I'll remain here. You are in haste and you have eaten. Your horses are ready. I need not detain you. I'll see you at Marseilles tomorrow. I congratulate you on your horsemanship. To have overtaken me, even when I am travelling by carriage, is no mean exploit. I am pleased to have made your acquaintance."

And he bade us farewell, allowed us to pass out, and seated himself at our table.