Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Charles Frank and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team.
or
By
1917
The Circus in Rome was thronged with an enormous crowd of persons on aday in June, about two thousand years ago. One hundred thousand menand women sat on its tiers of white marble seats, under the open skyand witnessed a gladiatorial contest in the arena, beneath.
At the western end of the oval amphitheatre was the Emperor's box,flanked with tall Corinthian pillars, on which were hung thecoat-of-arms of the Roman people. Here sat one of the most cruelemperors Rome has ever suffered under. His cloak was royal purple,and was thrown carelessly back, on this warm June afternoon, todisclose a white tunic, embroidered in scarlet.
Beside him were several ladies, elaborately gowned in the manner ofthe day, with hair dressed high, studded with jewels brought fromOriental lands, while their necks and arms were loaded with strings ofpearls and emeralds, armlets of tawny gold in Etruscan designs, inwhich were set cameos of extraordinary delicacy and diamonds, onlypartially polished, as large as the half of a hen's egg.
To every class of Romans, the gladiatorial show was open. Senators andPatricians, artists and mechanics, poets and artisans, women of everyrank, from the highest lady of the land to the humblest washerwomanwho beat her clothes on the rounded stones of the River Tiber, werehere to gloat over the hideous contest in the arena.
In the third row, about half way in the long side of the ovalamphitheatre sat two women and a man. The women were unusuallybeautiful. They were mother and daughter. The man was plainly thefather, a stalwart Roman, a lawyer, who had his office in the courtsof the Forum, where business houses flanked the splendid temples ofwhite marble, where the people worshipped their gods, Jupiter andSaturn, Diana and Cybele.
"See," said Claudia, pointing a finger on which blazed on enormousemerald, "the Vestals are giving the signal. Their thumbs arereversed. The Emperor, also, is signalling for a cessation of thefight. How proud Lycias, the gladiator, is to-day, for he won thevictory. Well, we must go. Come, Virgilia."
The young girl arose, obediently, but her father noticed that her eyeswere full of tears and that she shivered slightly in spite of thewarm, scented June air.
As the three mingled with the thousands who were in a very leisurelymanner wending their way down the steps to the ground, AureliusLucanus drew her frail hand through his arm and said, gently: "Whathast thou, dearest? Art thou not well?"
"I am quite well, father dear," and as she spoke, she drew over herface a light, filmy veil, effectually shielding her from the toocuri