has just passed," he said. "He is a close friend of a
trusty friend of mine in Rome. Like most couriers he is obliging and will
carry letters for his friends, even packets. He dropped here a note for
me, warning me that I am likely to lose you. My friend is a crony of some
of the upper slaves in the Palace and of others in the Beast Barracks.

"Your manumission, which was urged by the aldermen of Nuceria, has been
favorably reported and may be ordered. On the other hand, the procurator
in charge of the reserves of arena-beasts has heard of you and vows he
must have you for service in or for the Colosseum. I am likely to lose you
either way. I don't mind your manumission; I'll wager that I can induce
you to stay on as you are. But I am all worked up over the prospect of a
requisition for you from the Beast Barracks. If one comes it will be your
fault."

I told him I was more stirred up about it than he was; that I should hate
to leave him and loathed the very idea of being cooped up in Rome amid
fetid cages; caring for lions and such like. We thoroughly understood each
other, and he said:

"I'll have to manage to report you killed, if the requisition comes. I'm
determined to keep you. I'll have to set my wits to work to arrange for
it."

I hoped he might, but I felt nervous. I dreaded being dragged to Rome and
recalled the prophecy of the Aemilian Sibyl. I had a feeling that to Rome
I was going, my situation was too good to last. I thought of leaving
Septima with much regret. Not that I loved her or even cared for her; but
she was a girl no man could but respect and admire and wish well to. If I
must leave her I resolved to leave her as well off as I could.

Making sure that I was far from any human being and unobserved I opened my
amulet-bag, looked over the gems it contained, selected a medium-sized
emerald of perfect color, sewed it into the hem of my tunic and sewed up
the amulet-bag with the rest of the gems inside it.

At the first opportunity, I revisited the outlaws' camp, with the usual
precautions, and found Bulla idle and genial. I told him I needed cash,
all the cash I could get, and had an emerald I thought would be worth a
noble store of gold and silver coin.

"Show it to me!" he commanded.

I took out my sheath-knife, ripped the emerald out of its hiding-place and
passed it to him.

He conned it.

"You are right, brother," he said; "this is a fine gem. I tell you what
I'll do. I'll ride, myself