"What was the nature of their wounds?" asked Fulvius.

"The wound of Alcinous was deft, lateral and to the heart," said Callisthenes. "Portus was run through."

"Portus died second," said Fulvius. "In Alcinous the fellow did not wish to risk the jamming of his blade."

The fellow with the bandaged arm opened and closed his hand, testing its grip. "The wagon is gone, the tharlarion?" asked Fulvius.

"No," said Callisthenes.

"What of the purses of Alcinous and Portus?" asked Fulvius.

"Gone," said Callisthenes.

"Good," said Fulvius. "Then we are dealing with a brigand."

"He had probably fled by now," said the small fellow, eagerly.

"The wounds of Alcinous and Portus were frontal wounds," said Callisthenes. "Why would he not flee?" asked the small fellow.

"Perhaps he had fled," said Fulvius. "We do not know."

"He may linger in the vicinity," said the fellow with the bandaged arm. "He may be hungry for more gold."

"And there my be several of them, a band!" said the small fellow. "Perhaps," said Fulvius. "But I do not think so."

"What shall we do?" asked the fellow with the bandaged arm.

"Can you handle your sword?" asked Fulvius.

"I think so," he said.

"Callisthenes?" asked Fulvius.

"Yes," he said.

"The beast is gone," said the man with the bandaged arm, suddenly.

Its departure had been unnoticed.

"Where is it?" demanded Fulvius of the small fellow.

"I do not know," he said.

"It is wounded," said Fulvius. "Too, I suspect it had had its fill of blood for the day."

The small fellow looked about, anxiously.

"Are you with us?" asked Fulvius.

"I am not a fighter," said the small fellow. "I am going to go away, too!" "Your beast has deserted you," said Fulvius.

"I did without them before, and can do so again," he said. He hastened to his pack, near the blanket.

"Leave the blanket, and the coins upon it," said Fulvius.

"No!" cried the small fellow.

"Throw your purse on it, too," advised Fulvius.

"No!" cried the small fellow.

"Do so, quickly," said Fulvius, "unless you prefer to put your pack and clothes upon it as well and take your leave with no more than a length of binding to your name, that fastening your hands behind you."

Angrily the small fellow hurled his purse to the blanket, shouldered his pack, and hurried from the meadow, going in the direction opposite to that from which Callisthenes had come.

"What if the beast returns?" asked the fellow with the bandaged arm. "I do not think it will," said Fulvius. "If it does, I do not know where our small friend went, do you?"

"No," laughed the fellow with the bandage arm.

"If it is angry, presumably it will be angry with him. Perhaps it will even think it has been deserted. Perhaps it will even track him down."

"In such a case, I would not care to be him," said the mane with the bandaged arm.

"And if it does return here," said Fulvius, " we may pretend to deal with it, as he did."

"You may deal with it," said the man with the bandaged arm. "I want nothing to do with it."

"We need only watch our chance, and kill it. It is wounded. There are three of us."

"Perhaps," shrugged the man with the bandaged arm.

"But I do not think it will return," said Fulvius.

"I hope not," said the fellow with the bandaged arm.

"I did not know there were such things," said Callisthenes.

"I did not either," said the fellow with the bandaged arm.

"I will kill this fellow," said Fulvius. "Then we will go to the wagon, and see if we can find the other."

Tupita again put her body between those of Fulvius and Mirus. Mirus was now sitting up, his head in his hands.

"Kill him later," said the fellow with the bandaged arm. "It will soon be dark." "Very well," said Fulvius.

They then set out in the direction from which Callisthenes had come.

It would have taken but a moment to thrust Tupita aside and kill Mirus, but I sensed that the man with the injured arm, again, had little taste for dispatching a helpless foe. Fulvius, perhaps, more ruthless or practical in such matters, but a judicious tactician, had, I thin, not wished to proceed at that time with an action which might bring about a disagreement or confrontation with his subordinate, one of whose sword he might shortly have need. Too, he could always kill Mirus later. He did not care, as I recalled, to leave enemies behind him.

"Can you walk, Master?" begged Tupita, crouching near Mirus. "Can you run? They are gone! They will be coming back! Get up! Run! Flee!"

Mirus looked over at me, his eyes glazed with pain.

"Get up, Master!" begged Tupita. "Lean on me! I will try to help you!" She helped him to his feet. He stood, unsteadily. He looked at me.

"Good, Master!" cried Tupita. "Lean on me! I will try to help you!" How strong Mirus must be, I thought, that he could even stand.

"Hurry, Master," said Tupita. "Hurry!"

But suddenly he moved his arm and flung her to the side.

"Master!" she cried.

He bent down, nearly fell, and picked up the blade which had fallen from the hand of the man who had been urged earlier by Fulvius to kill him, he whom Hendow had dropped, the blade with which he himself had been threatened. His eyes wild he staggered toward me, the blade lifted over his head, in two hands.

I screamed.

Tupita leaped to her feet and flung herself between us, shielding me with her own body.

"Stupid slave!" cried Mirus. "With draw! Get out of the way!"

"You are out of your head, Mirus!" she cried. "You are not the master I know. She is only a slave. Do not hurt her!"

"She betrayed me!" he cried, the blade poised.

"Hendow, your friend, loved her!" she cried. "He cared for her. He sought her! He saved your life! Will you now kill her with the very blade from which he saved you?"

"She betrayed me!" he snarled.

I was startled to hear her asserveration of Hendow" s affection for me. He was so terrible, so fierce. Yet it seemed he had not in truth followed me to recapture me and punish me, visiting upon me the terrible severities to be suitably visited upon a runaway slave. I remembered how gently he had touched me on the side of the head. I wept, confused, startled, astonished, in wonder, considering his love. Had I been so blind to it? Yet I do not doubt that he would have kept me always, even in his love, as a helpless slave. He was that sort of man. Indeed, how could I, a woman, truly, fully, love any other sort?

I saw he did not want to strike Tupita. Her beauty, so wild and pathetic, bare-breasted, in its collar and shreds of skirt, was between us.

"I tried to warn you, Master," I wept. "I tried to withdraw! You would not let me. You would not listen! Masters were watching!"

"What would you have had her do?" cried Tupita. "Do you no understand? We are slaves, slaves! What do you think her life would have been worth if she had not been successful in her work? If she had even been suspected in her work would this, too, not have been dangerous for her masters?"

"Get out of the way!" he cried.

"You are not yourself," she cried. "Do not kill her!"

"Get out of the way," he cried, "or you will die first!"

"Go, Tupita!" I wept. "Go, run!"

"Move!" cried Mirus.

"No," said Tupita, firmly. "If it is your will, so be it. I will die first."

I saw the blade waver.

"It is my desire to be pleasing to my master," she said.

I saw the blade lower. Mirus stepped back.

"By the love I bear you, if not the love you bear me," she said, "spare her." I saw Mirus look at me, with hatred. But he crouched down then, the point of the blade in the dirt, his hands on the guard, steadying himself with the weapon, almost as with a staff. "She may live," he said. Then he sobbed.