because we took care to harm nobody. We let
others do the murdering and robbing. We have lived like hermits,
showing ourselves only often enough to keep alive the Maternus legend."

"Well, isn't that better than risking your neck trying to make and
unmake emperors?" Narcissus asked.

"I risk my neck each hour I linger in Rome!"

"Well then, by Hercules, take payment for the risk, and cut the risk and
vanish!" exclaimed Narcissus. "Help yourself once and for all to a bag
full of gold in exchange for your father's estates that were confiscated
when they cut his head off. Then leave Italy, and let us be outlaws in
Sardinia."

Sextus laughed.

"That probably sounds glorious to one in your position. I, too, rather
enjoyed the prospect when I first made my escape from Antioch and
discovered how easy the life was. But though I owe it to my father's
memory to win back his estates, even that, and present outlawry is small
compared to the zeal I have for restoring Rome's ancient liberties. But
I don't deceive myself; I am not the man who can accomplish that; I can
only help the one who can, and will. That one is Pertinax. He will
reverse the process that has been going on since Julius Caesar overthrew
the old republic. He will use a Caesar's power to destroy the edifice
of Caesar and rebuild what Caesar wrecked!"

Narcissus pondered that, his head between his hands.

"I haven't Rome at heart," he said at last. "Why should I have? There
are girls, whom I have forgotten, whom I loved more than I love Rome. I
am a slave gladiator. I have been applauded by the crowds, but know
what that means, having seen other men go the same route. I am an
emperor's favorite, and I know what that means too; I saw Cleander die;
I have seen man after man, and woman after woman lose his favor
suddenly. Banishment, death, the ergastulum, torture--and, what is much
worse, the insults the brute heaps on any one he turns against--I am too
wise to give that--" he spat on the flag-stones--"for the friendship of
Commodus. And Commodus is Rome; you can't persuade me he isn't. Rome
turns on its favorites as he does--scorns them, insults them, throws
them on dung-heaps. That for Rome!" He spat again. "They even break
the noses off the statues of the men they used to idolize! They even
throw the statues on a dung-heap to insult the dead! Why should I set
Rome above my own convenience?"

"Well, for instance, you could almost certa