‘You are right—I was excited to desperation—I would have followed her anywhere—nor do I now repent,’ said the young man frankly; ‘the welfare of my betrothed is more to me than life itself.’ Tiberius nodded gently, with a countenance as impassive as the Sphinx. ‘I entreated your pardon, Caesar, for my rude intrusion into the privacy of the Imperial chamber, and I humbly submit my fault once more for your forbearance and forgiveness,’ added Martialis quickly. ‘It was a fault which set at defiance all discipline, authority, and respect. What then is the punishment? You, as a soldier, ought to know.’ ‘I am well aware that my offence brings me within the extreme punishment of all. Caesar is master of life and death.’ ‘Is there any reason why the penalty should not be enforced?’ ‘I am ready,’ said Martialis, calmly returning the gaze of the Emperor. ‘But, as a soldier, who has ever done his duty, two requests might be mercifully granted.’ ‘Name them.’ ‘That I suffer no dishonourable death, and that the maiden may be returned to her people in safety and honour. Or, if these be too much, grant, at least, the latter, and deal with me as you will as regards the former.’ ‘I have said that your headstrong youth claims an amount of indulgence, and I grant both requests.’ ‘Thanks from my heart.’ ‘Your betrothed shall not be harmed—she is now in safe keeping. There is the first condition settled.’ ‘Then I am at peace.’ ‘And for the other, you shall name yourself the manner of your death.’ ‘A single sword‐thrust here,’ said the Centurion, laying his hand over his heart. ‘I bear an old and honourable name.’ Tiberius bent a long and searching gaze upon him, and then rising to his feet, paced up and down the cell for some moments. ‘I love my Pretorians, and cannot bear to see them come to harm,’ he muttered. The words reached the ears of Martialis, whose heart throbbed with renewed hope which would not be denied. Then Caesar returned to his seat and said, ‘The Prefect has spoken to me concerning you—has he seen you here?’ ‘He came for the despatches I bore,’ answered the Centurion; ‘I know he would speak favourably of me.’ ‘He did so—you often act as his courier?’ ‘Very frequently.’ ‘I remember to have seen you before in that capacity.’ ‘I have often had the honour of carrying important letters between the Prefect and yourself.’ ‘Yes, you are favoured with his confidence. Do your missions ever include any diplomatic or political business?’ ‘No—I know nothing of either, and have no desire to learn. My profession suffices to fill my entire attention.’ ‘Good,’ said the Emperor approvingly; ‘you are a soldier, pure and simple, as you ought to be. It is all the more pity you have committed this fault.’ He rose from his seat and walked the cell again. Martialis watched him anxiously.