he year of our Lord 303--it was in the
"Ides of March," about the middle of the month, but the air was balmy as
that of June in our northern clime--two note-worthy-looking men were
riding along the famous Appian Way, near the city of Rome The elder of
the two, a man of large size and of mighty thews and sinews, was mounted
on a strong and richly-caparisoned horse. He wore the armour of a Roman
centurion--a lorica or cuirass, made of plates of bronze, fastened to a
flexible body of leather; and cothurni, or a sort of laced boots,
leaching to mid-leg. On his back hung his round embossed shield; by his
side, in its sheath, his short, straight sword, and on his head was a
burnished helmet, with a sweeping horsehair crest. His face was bronzed
with the sun of many climes. But when, for a moment, he removed his
helmet to cool his brow, one saw that his forehead was high and white.
His hair curled close to his head, except where it was worn bare at his
temples by the chafing of his helmet, and was already streaked with
grey, although he looked not more than five-and forty years of age. Yet
the eagle glance of his eye was undimmed, and his firm-set muscles, the
haughty expression of his countenance, and the high courage of his
bearing, gave evidence that his natural strength was not abated.

His companion contrasted strongly in every respect. He had a slender,
graceful figure, a mobile and expressive face, a mouth of almost
feminine softness and beauty, dark and languishing eyes, and long,
flowing hair. He wore a snowy toga, with a brilliant scarlet border of
what is still known as "Greek fret;" and over this, fastened by a brooch
at his throat, a flowing cloak. On his head sat jauntily a soft felt
hat, not unlike those still worn by the Italian peasantry, and on his
feet were low-laced shoes or sandals. Instead of a sword, he wore at his
side a metal case for his reed-pen and for a scroll of papyrus. He was
in the bloom and beauty of youth, apparently not more than twenty years
of age.

The elder of the two was the Roman officer Flaccus Sertorius, a
centurion of the 12th Legion, returning with his Greek secretary,
Isidorus, from the town of Albano, about seventeen miles from Rome,
whither he had been sent on business of state.

"This new edict of the Emperor's," remarked Sertorius to his secretary,
with an air of affable condescension, "is likely to give us both work
enough to do before long."

"Your Excellency forgets," r