“Back away,” she reiterated, “I’m coming up the steps.” Up the steps she came, very slowly. Planted on her right foot she would almost imperceptibly raise and advance her left foot. When it was firm on the step, she would gradually shift her weight to that foot, would very deliberately straighten up and very carefully draw up her right foot until both feet were together. So standing she would breathe several times before she repeated the process. When she was standing firm on the top step on the level of the Quay platform, she raised both hands until the sieve was level with her chin. “You have won,” Commodus exclaimed. “You have demonstrated your Goddess’s favor. The test is over.” An arm’s length away stood Calvaster. “It’s a trick!” he cried. “That is not water.” “Not water!” cried Brinnaria. All the forgotten tomboy of her childish girlhood surged up within her. The obsolete hoydenishness inside her exploded. “Not water!” she cried, and smashed the sieve over his head. The rim on his shoulders, his head protruding from the torn eb, frayed ends of broken horse-hair sticking up round his neck, the water trickling down his clothing and dripping from his thin locks, from his big flaring ears, from the end of his long nose, his face rueful and stultified, he presented a sufficiently absurd appearance. Commodus, like the overgrown boy he was, burst into roars of laughter. The Pontiffs laughed, the Senators laughed, even Manlia and Gargilia laughed. “It’s a trick!” Calvaster repeated. On the face of Commodus mirth gave place to wrath. “Isn’t that enough water for you?” he roared. “Anybody would think, the way you behave, that I am the minor Pontiff and you the Emperor. I’ll teach you!” He turned and beckoned a centurion of the guard. With his file of men he came on the double quick. “Seize that man!” the Emperor commanded. Two of the Pretorians gripped Calvaster by the elbows. “March him out there to the edge,” came the next order, the Emperor gesturing towards the quay-front on his right. At the brink of the platform the Pretorians paused. “Grab him with both your hands,” the Emperor commanded, “and pitch him into the river.” Over went Calvaster with a mighty splash. As all Romans were excellent swimmers he came to the surface almost at once. A few strokes in front of him was the boat with the sieves. To it he swam and Truttidius hauled him aboard and located him on a thwart. After the general merriment had waned and the laughter had abated Commodus faced the assemblage and raised his hand. Into the ensuing silence he spoke not as a blundering lad nor as a sportsman, but as a ruler. For the moment, in fact, he looked all the Emperor.