Now they ceased talking, for the people were so many that they could only force their way through the press riding one after the other. Thus, Nehushta following Marcus, they crossed the Tiber and passed through many streets, decorated, most of them, for the coming pageant, till at length Marcus drew rein in front of a marble mansion in the Via Agrippa.
"A strange home-coming," he muttered. "Follow me," and he rode round the house to a side-entrance.
Here he dismounted and knocked at the small door for some time without avail. At length it was opened a little way, and a thin, querulous voice, speaking through the crack, said: "Begone, whoever you are. No one lives here. This is the house of Marcus, who is dead in the Jewish war. Who are you that disturb me?"
"The heir of Marcus."
"Marcus has no heir, unless it be Cæsar, who doubtless will take his property."
"Open, Stephanus," said Marcus, in a tone of command, at the same time pushing the door wide and entering. "Fool," he added, "what kind of a steward are you that you do not know your master's voice?"
Now he who had kept the door, a withered little man in a scribe's brown robe, peered at this visitor with his sharp eyes, then threw up his hands and staggered back, saying: "By the spear of Mars! it is Marcus himself, Marcus returned from the dead! Welcome, my lord, welcome."
Marcus led his horse through the deep archway, and when Nehushta had followed him into the courtyard beyond, returned, closed and locked the door.
"Why did you think me dead, friend?" he asked.
"Oh! my lord," answered the steward, "because all who have come home from the war declared that you had vanished away during the siege of the city of the Jews, and that you must either be dead or taken prisoner. Now I knew well that you would never disgrace your ancient house, or your own noble name, or the Eagles which you serve, by falling alive into the hands of the enemy. Therefore, I was sure that you were dead."
Marcus laughed bitterly, then turning to Nehushta, said: "You hear, woman, you hear. If such is the judgment of my steward and freedman, what will be that of Cæsar and my peers?" Then he added, "Now, Stephanus, that what you thought impossible--what I myself should have thought impossible--has happened. I was taken prisoner by the Jews, though through no fault of mine."
"Oh! if so," said the old steward, "hide it, my lord, hide it. Why, two such unhappy men who had surrendered to save their lives and were found in some Jewish dungeon, have been condemned to walk in the Triumph this day. Their hands are to be tied behind them; in place of their swords they must wear a distaff, and on their breasts a placard with the words written: 'I am a Roman who preferred dishonour to death.' You would not wish their company, my lord."