On they tramped, their hands bound behind them, clad in full armour, but wearing a woman's distaff where the sword should have been, and round their necks the placards which proclaimed their shame.

The brutal Roman mob hooted them also, that mob which ever loved spectacles of cruelty and degradation, calling them cowards.

One of the men, a bull-necked, black-haired fellow, suffered it patiently, remembering that at even he must be set free to vanish where he would.

The other, who was blue-eyed and finer-featured, having gentle blood in his veins, seemed to be maddened by their talk, for he glared about him, gnashing his teeth like a wild beast in a cage.

Opposite to the house of Marcus came the climax.
"Cur," yelled a woman in the mob, casting a pebble that struck him on the cheek.