Phaon, who remembered the tavern, a visit, and winning four hundred sesterces at one time or another, tried to make himself believe that he won them from a young man, like the one before him, and that his name was Cleombrotus.

“Um!  Yes, of course,” he faltered.  “I’m very glad to see you.  What brings you here?”

“Business, business,” complained Agias; “my master’s a grain merchant with dealings at Puteoli, and he has sent me thither, to make some payments.”  Phaon pricked up his ears.  “The Via Appia is more direct, but there is less chance of robbers by the Via Praenestina.”

“I hope your master can trust you not to lighten his pouch on the way,” remarked Phaon.

“Well,” chuckled Agias, “he’ll have to take his risk.  If it’s lost on the road, why, highwaymen stripped me.  It is one of the fortunes of trade.”  Phaon was fully convinced that here was a fine chance to do some picking on his own account.

“Doubtless,” he began, “you are not in such haste that you cannot enjoy one of those thrushes that sheep of a landlord is roasting for me. Phui! What a nasty place to have one’s horse give out in.  You will give me at least a little company to pass the time?”

Agias affected reluctance; then as the host brought up the birds, savory and hot, on an earthen platter, he gracefully accepted the invitation.  The thrushes and the rest of the bill of fare, bacon, sweet nut-flavoured oil, bread, and the cheap wine of the Campagna were not unwelcome, though Phaon cursed the coarse food roundly.  Then, when hunger had begun to yield, Phaon suggested that Cleombrotus “try to secure revenge for his losses on the Calends”; and Agias, nothing loth, replied that he did not wish to risk a great sum; but if a denarius were worth playing for, there was no objection to venturing a few casts, and “he would ask the host to bring them the gaming implements.”

So the landlord brought dice and dice boxes, and Phaon—­who had come to the conclusion that he had to deal with a light-headed bumpkin, who represented merely so much fair plunder—­began to play with a careless heart.  The landlord brought more and more flagons of wine, wine that was mixed with little water and was consequently very heady.  But the game—­with some veering of fortune—­went the freedman’s way.  He won a denarius; then another; then a third; lost a fourth time; won back everything and five denarii more; and finally his opponent, heated with play, consented to stake two gold pieces.

“What did you say a minute ago to the landlord?” muttered Phaon, feeling that the undiluted liquor was getting the best of him.  “This wine is very strong.  It makes my head ache.”

“Phy!” retorted Agias.  “Who complains of good liquor?  I only told the host to set another lamp near us.  Shall we play again?”

“By Zeus!” exclaimed the delighted freedman.  “Here I have cast four ‘sixes’ once more.”  And again he drained the beaker.