EDGAR RICE BURROUGHS
the door and a man entered with two torch-bearers behind him. It was Fastus.
He looked around the cell. “Where is Praeclarus?” he demanded, and then, “Ah, there you are!”
Praeclarus did not reply.
“Stand up, slave!” ordered Fastus, arrogantly. “Stand up, all of you. How dare you sit in the presence of a Caesar!” he exclaimed.
“Swine is a better title for such as you,” taunted Praeclarus,
“Drag them up! Beat them with your pikes!” cried Fastus to the soldiers outside the doorway.
The commander of the Colosseum guard, who stood just behind Fastus, blocked the doorway. “Stand back,” he said to the legionaries. “No one gives orders here except Caesar and myself, and you are not Caesar yet, Fastus.”
“I shall be one day,” snapped the prince, “and it will be a sad day for you.”
“It will be a sad day for all Castra Sanguinarius,” replied the officer. “You said that you wished to speak to Praeclarus? Say what you have to say and be gone. Not even Caesar's son may interfere with my charges.”
Fastus trembled with anger, but he knew that he was powerless. The commander of the guard spoke with the authority of the Emperor, whom he represented. He turned upon Praeclarus.
“I came to invite my good friend, Maximus Praeclarus, to my wedding,” he announced, with a sneer. He waited, but Praeclarus made no reply. “You do not seem duly impressed, Praeclarus,” continued the prince. “You do not ask who is to be the happy bride. Do you not wish to know who will be the next Empress in Castra Sanguinarius, even though you may not live to see her upon the throne beside Caesar?”
The heart of Maximus Praeclarus stood still, for now he knew why Fastus had come to the dungeon-cell, but he gave no sign of what was passing within his breast, but remained seated in silence upon the hard floor, his back against the cold wall.
“You do not ask me whom I am to wed, nor when,” continued Fastus, “but I shall tell you. You should be interested.
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