“I think Commodus is quite likely to have the best of it!” Narcissus said, screwing up his eyes as if he gazed at an antagonist across the dazzling sand of the arena.  “Somebody—­some spy—­is sure to inform him.  There will be wholesale proscriptions.  Commodus will try to scare Severus, Niger and Albinus by slaughtering their supporters here in Rome.  I can see what is coming.”

“Are you, too, a god—­like Commodus—­that you can see so shrewdly?”

“Never mind.  I can see.  And I can see a better way for you, and for me also.  You have made yourself a great name as Maternus, less, possibly, in Rome than on the countryside.  You have more to begin with than ever Spartacus had—­”

“Aye, and less, too,” Sextus interrupted.  “For I lack his confidence that Rome can be brought to her knees by an army of slaves.  I lack his willingness to try to do it.  Rome must be saved by honorable Romans, who have Rome at heart and not their own personal ambition.  No army of runaway slaves can ever do it.  Nothing offends me more than that Commodus makes slaves his ministers, and I mean by that no offense to you, Narcissus, who are fit to rank with Spartacus himself.  But I am a republican.  It is not vengeance that I seek.  I will reckon I have lived if I have ridded Rome of Commodus and helped to replace him with a man who will restore our ancient liberties.”

“Liberties?” Narcissus wore his satyr-smile again.  “It makes small difference to slaves and gladiators how much liberty the free men have!  The more for them, the less for us!  Let us live while the living is good, Sextus!  Let us take to the mountains and help ourselves to what we need while Pertinax and all these others fight for too much!  Let them have their too much and grow sick of it!  What do you and I need beyond clothing, a weapon, armor, a girl or two and a safe place for retreat?  I have heard Sardinia is wonderful.  But if you still think you would rather haunt your old estates, where you know the people and they know you, so that you will be warned of any attempt to catch you, that will be all right with me.  We can swoop down on the inns along the main roads now and then, rob whom it is convenient to rob, and live like noblemen!”

“Three years I have lived an outlaw’s life,” Sextus answered, “sneaking into Rome to borrow money from my father’s friends to save me the necessity of stealing.  It is one thing to pretend to be a robber, and another thing to rob.  The robber’s name makes nine men out of ten your secret well-wishers; the deed makes you all men’s enemy.  How do you suppose I have escaped capture?  It was simple enough.  Every robber in Italy has called himself Maternus, so that I have seemed to be here, there, everywhere, aye, and often in three or four places at once!  I have been caught and killed at least a dozen times!  But all the while my men and I were safe because we took care to harm nobody.  We let others do the murdering and robbing.  We have lived like hermits, showing ourselves only often enough to keep alive the Maternus legend.”