ompeius land; he knew, what was almost as much to the point, that
Pratinas did not care to renew certain acquaintanceships contracted at
Rome. Therefore the young Hellene calmed Cornelia's fears, and waited
as best he might.

The council had convened early in the day; the herald went through the
squares of Pelusium announcing that Ptolemaeus, "Son of Ra," would
receive as his guest the Roman suppliant. The shore fronting the
anchorage was covered with the files of the royal army in full array.
Several Egyptian men-of-war had been drawn down into the water and
their crews were hastening on board. Out in the haven rode the little
fleet of the Pompeians. Agias had heard the proclamation, and hurried
down to the mole to bear the earliest definite information to his
mistress. Presently, out of the throng of officers and court magnates
on the quay, stepped Achillas in a splendid panoply of gilded armour,
with a purple chiton flowing down from beneath. Beside him, with the
firm swinging step of the Roman legionary, strode two other officers
in magnificent armour, whom Agias at once recognized as Lucius
Septimius, a Roman tribune now in Egyptian service, and a certain
Salvius, who had once been a centurion of the Republic. The three
advanced on to the quay and stood for a moment at a loss. Agias, who
was quite near, could hear their conversation.

"The yacht is not ready for us."

"We cannot delay a moment."

There was a large open boat moored to the quay, a fisher man's craft.
In a moment a few subalterns had taken possession of it and there was
a call for rowers. Agias, who, like all his race, never declined a
chance "to see or hear some new thing," took his seat on one of the
benches, and soon the craft shot away from the mole with the three
officers in its stern.

It was a short pull to the Pompeian ships; Agias, as he glanced over
his shoulder thought he could see a motion on board the vessels as if
to sheer away from the boat; but in a moment the little craft was
alongside, under the lee of the flagship.

"Where is Pompeius Magnus?" cried Achillas, rising from his seat; "we
are sent to carry him to the king."

A martial, commanding figure was seen peering over the side,--a figure
that every inhabitant of Rome knew right well.

"I am he; but why do you come thus meanly with only a fisher's boat?
Is this honourable, is this worthy of a great king's guest?"

"Assuredly, kyrios," began Achillas, "we are forced to c