But when Commodus had been Emperor a little over a year, Brinnaria, as she descended from her carriage at Vocco’s door, felt a thrill of vague foreboding. On entering the house her premonition of something wrong intensified. At first sight Flexinna’s face confirmed her suspicions. However, she asked no questions and worked off her feelings by a series of high dives, followed by fancy-stroke swimming under water. She came up from her tenth plunge sufficiently exhausted to feel to some extent soothed. As they composed themselves on the dining-sofas Vocco and Flexinna exchanged glances. Brinnaria did not wait for either to speak. “I am afraid,” she said, “that my appetite is not as reliable as it was ten years ago. I think we had best eat our dinner first and discuss our bad news afterwards.” Vocco and Flexinna looked distinctly relieved. Brinnaria’s appetite seemed excellent. She ate abundantly, and, after the dinner tray was removed and the dessert tray brought in, she relished a half a dozen of her favorite purple figs. Savoring her glass of Vocco’s exquisite Setian wine she asked: “What has gone wrong, Quintus?” “Just precisely what we feared has happened,” Vocco replied. “In spite of all our efforts Hostidius appears to have known nothing whatever about Almo’s peculiar past or of the special instructions Aurelius gave Opstorius. “Almo has practically repeated the vagary he perpetrated at Hippo. He induced Hostidius to give him a full, honorable discharge from the army and later wheedled the governor into authorizing him to have himself sold as a slave.” “What maggot can he have in his brain,” Brinnaria burst in, “that he is so fascinated with the idea of being sold as a slave? What earthly basis can there be for the enticement it holds out to him? Being sold as a slave is universally regarded as the worst fate that can befall a man in life. What makes the prospect of life as a slave so alluring to him?” “Flexinna and I have been debating that point,” said Vocco, “but we cannot so much as think up a conjecture. “As to the facts there can be no doubt. He was publicly sold in the marketplace of Eboracum.” “At least,” Brinnaria breathed, “we have not lost track of him this time.” “We have not,” Vocco answered, “and I’ll wager we shall not.” “Is it prize-fighting again?” Brinnaria queried, “or is it really charioteering this time?” “Neither,” said Vocco. “I must say it sounds like lunacy. But all Almo’s words and all the small details of his behavior show no signs of derangement. Up to the last report he slept well, ate well, looked well, talked sensibly, in respect to all minor matters acted like a rational being, and seemed to thrive. But what he did in the large sense appears incredible.