Charmian, too, had been here, but also failed to find the master of the house, and followed him.  Evil tidings-which, owing to the loss of time involved, might prove fatal.  If the donkey had only been swifter!  True, Archibius’s stable was full of fine animals, but who was she that she should presume to use them?  Yet she had gained something which rendered her the equal of many who were born free and occupied a higher station—­ the reputation for trustworthiness and wisdom; and relying upon this, she told the faithful old steward, as far as possible, what was at stake, and soon after he himself took her, both mounted on swift mules, to the city and the Paneum garden.

He chose the nearest road thither through the Gate of the Sun and the Kanopic Way.  Usually at this hour it was crowded with people, but to-day few persons were astir.  All the idlers had thronged to the Bruchium and the harbour to see the returning ships of the vanquished fleet, hear something new, witness the demonstrations of joy, the sacrifices and processions, and—­if Fortune favoured—­meet the Queen and relieve their overflowing hearts by acclamations.

When the carriage turned towards the left and approached the Paneum, progress for the first time became difficult.  A dense crowd had gathered around the hill on whose summit the sanctuary of Pan dominated the spacious garden.  Anukis’s eye perceived the tall figure of Philostratus.  Was the mischief-maker everywhere?  This time he seemed to encounter opposition, for loud shouts interrupted his words.  Just as the carriage passed he pointed to the row of houses in which the widow of Leonax lived, but violent resistance followed the gesture.

Anukis perceived what restrained the crowd; for, as the equipage approached its destination, a body of armed youths stopped it.  Their finely-formed limbs, steeled by the training of the Palaestra, and the raven, chestnut, and golden locks floating around their well-shaped heads, were indeed beautiful.  They were a band of the Ephebi, formerly commanded by Archibius, and to whose leadership more recently Dion had been elected.  The youths had heard what had occurred—­that imprisonment, perhaps even worse disaster, threatened him.  At any other time it would scarcely have been possible to oppose the decree of the Government and guard their imperilled friend, but in these dark days the rulers must deal with them.  Though they were loyal to the Queen, and had resolved, spite of her defeat, to support her cause, as soon as she needed them, they would not suffer Dion to be punished for a crime which, in their eyes, was an honour.  Their determination to protect him grew more eager with every vexatious delay on the part of the city council to deal with a matter which concerned one of their own body.  They had not yet decided whether to demand a full pardon or only a mild sentence for the man who had wounded the “King of kings,” the son of the sovereign.  Moreover, the quiet Caesarion,