The Duke had already taken the roll of papyrus from the boy's hand and spread it open on the table. His eye sparkled with the joy of victory. "What do I read here? 'Four squadrons of mailed horsemen at the Porta Decumana, all the baggage also piled at the Porta Decumana. "'The wall eight feet high. "'The ditch five feet deep. "'The weakest point the corner in the northwest'--and so it continues for a long time! "Thanks to thee, god of wishes. Thou hast sent this, no one else, to thy sons. Look here! A plan of the entire camp! Exact: all the measurements. And here, marked on the margin, the strength of all the troops horsemen, foot-soldiers, carters; and their distribution in the camp. Look here, Adalo! Even the great pine, the tree of the earth-goddess, is noted. What is this beside the tree? What stands there above the stones of sacrifice which cover the turf near the tree? A tent, empty, without soldiers, filled with provisions! "In this page I hold victory. Go now, Zercho: your reward shall be paid. As I promised, I will buy your freedom, whatever sum your master, Suomar, may ask: he cannot give it to you, his lands are not large, and you are his most valuable property." "O mighty, generous lord, I thank you!" "Then you can return, a free man, to your own people, to Sarmatia. That will be your wish?" But Zercho shook his unkempt head. Tears filled his eyes: "No," he said. "I will stay here, my lord, if Suomar will let me keep the little patch of ground I have always tilled--I had to give him only the twelfth sheaf from it--and the hut of woven willow branches by the lake. I would rather stay." "Strange! Do you feel no longing for your home, your own people?"