[111] Farm steward.

With senses unduly alert the porter, as soon as he was aroused from his slumbers, had noticed that evening that Agias had come on some unusual business, and that he was obviously confused when he learned that Drusus was not at home.  With his suspicions thus quickened, every word the luckless Greek uttered went to incriminate him in the mind of the porter.  Agias was certainly an accomplice in the plot against Drusus, sent to the house at an unseasonable hour, on some dark errand.  The porter had freely protested this belief to Falto and his court, and to support his indictment produced the captured dagger, the sure sign of a would-be murderer.  Besides, a large sum of gold was found on Agias’s person; his fast Numidian horse was still steaming before the door—­and what honest slave could travel thus, with such a quantity of money?

Agias tried to tell his story, but to no effect; Falto and his fellow-judges dryly remarked to one another that the prisoner was trying to clear himself, by plausibly admitting the existence of the conspiracy, but of course suppressing the real details.  Agias reasoned.  He was met with obstinate incredulity.  He entreated, prayed, implored.  The prejudiced rustics mocked at him, and hinted that they cared too much for their patron to believe any tale that such a manifest impostor might tell them.  Pausanias, the Mamerci, and Cappadox, the only persons, besides Drusus, who could readily identify him, were away at Lanuvium.

The verdict of guilty was so unanimous that it needed little or no discussion; and Falto pronounced sentence.

“Mago,” to the huge African, “take this wretched boy to the slave-prison; fetter him heavily.  On your life do not let him escape.  Give him bread and water at sunrise.  When Master Drusus returns he will doubtless bid us crucify the villain, and in the morning Natta the carpenter shall prepare two beams for the purpose.”

Agias comforted himself by reflecting that things would hardly go to that terrible extremity; but it was not reassuring to hear Ligus, the crabbed old cellarer, urge that he be made to confess then and there under the cat.  Falto overruled the proposition.  “It was late, and Mamercus was the man to extort confession.”  So Agias found himself thrust into a filthy cell, lighted only by a small chink, near the top of the low stone wall, into which strayed a bit of moonlight.  The night he passed wretchedly enough, on a truss of fetid straw; while the tight irons that confined him chafed his wrists and ankles.  Needless to add, he cursed roundly all things human and heavenly, before he fell into a brief, troubled sleep.  In the morning Mago, who acted as jailer, brought him a pot of water and a saucer of uncooked wheat porridge;[112] and informed him, with a grin, that Natta was making the beams ready.  Agias contented himself by asking Mago to tell Drusus about him, as soon as the master returned.  “You