ive city. Sedate citizens had themselves carried by a slave in a
wicker chair to take seats before the door of some shop to learn the
news. Newsmongers circulated from group to group spreading the most
stupendous lies; parasites seeking an invitation to dine flattered the
rich whom they chanced to meet, and spoke ill of everything that
happened; unemployed pedagogues disputed in loud tones over a point in
Greek grammar, and youthful citizens grumbled against the old senators,
declaring that the Republic needed newer blood.

The recent expedition against the Turdetani, and the great victory
gained over them, was much discussed. They would no longer dare to raise
their heads; their king Artabanes, a fugitive in the most remote of
their territories, must be punished for the late defeat. And the young
Saguntines looked proudly at the trophies of lances, shields, and
helmets, hanging from the pilasters of the porticos. They were the arms
of some hundreds of Turdetani killed or taken prisoner on the last
expedition. Furniture and ornaments stolen in the villages of the enemy
by the warriors of Saguntum were offered for sale at low prices in the
barber-shops. Nobody wanted them. The city was filled with such spoils.
The Saguntine soldiers had returned, dragging in their wake a veritable
army of loaded wagons and an interminable horde of men and beasts. As
they thought of the triumph they smiled with the grim ferocity of
ancient warfare, incapable of forgiving, and in which the greatest of
mercies for the conquered was slavery.

The slave-market was situated near the temple where justice was
administered. The slaves squatted on the ground in a circle, covered
with rags, their hands clasped around their feet, their chins resting
between their knees. Those born into slavery awaited the new master with
the passivity of beasts, their limbs emaciated by hunger, their heads
shaved and covered by a white cap. Others, more closely watched by the
slave dealer, were bearded, and over their filthy hair wore crowns of
branches to indicate their condition as slaves taken in war. They were
Turdetani who had not given ransom. Astonishment and fury at finding
themselves reduced to slavery still showed in their glowering eyes. Many
of them wore chains, and on their bodies the cicatrices of the recent
war were still fresh. They glared at the hostile people, contracting
their mouths as if with desire to bite and some of them restlessly moved
the