'Then, perhaps, I may be of service to you if I remain,' said Tarzan.
'I do not see how you can do anything but remain,' said Praeclarus. 'Every man, woman, and child in Castra Sanguinarius will be on the lookout for you, for Sublatus has offered a huge reward for your capture, and besides the inhabitants of the city there are thousands of barbarians outside the walls who will lay aside every other interest to run you down.'
'Twice today you have seen how easily I can escape from the soldiers of Sublatus,' said Tarzan, smiling. 'Just as easily can I leave the city and elude the barbarians in the outer villages.'
'Then why do you remain?' demanded Praeclarus. 'I came here searching for the son of a friend,' replied Tarzan. 'Many weeks ago the young man started out with an expedition to explore the Wiramwazi Mountains in which your country is located. His people deserted him upon the outer slopes, and I am convinced that he is somewhere within the range and very possibly in this canyon. If he is here und alive, he will unquestionably come sooner or later to your city where, from the experience that I have gained, I am sure that he will receive anything but friendly treatment from your Emperor. This is the reason that I wish to remain somewhere in the vicinity, and now that you have told me that you are in danger, I may as well remain in your home where it is possible I may have an opportunity to reciprocate your kindness to me.'
'If the son of your friend is in this end of the valley, he will be captured and brought to Castra Sanguinarius,' said Maximus Praeclarus, 'and when that occurs I shall know of it, since I am detailed to duty at the Colosseum—a mark of the disfavor of Sublatus, since this is the most distasteful duty to which an officer can be assigned.'
'Is ft possible that this man for whom I am searching might be in some other part of the valley?' asked Tarzan.
'No,' replied Praeclarus. 'There is only one entrance to the valley, that through which you were brought, and while there is another city at the eastern end, he could not reach it without passing through the forest surrounding Castra Sanguinarius, in which event he would have been captured by the barbarians and turned over to Sublatus.'
'Then I shall remain here,' said Tarzan, 'for a time.'
'You shall be a welcome guest,' replied Praeclarus. For three weeks Tarzan remained in the home of Maximus Praeclarus. Festivitas conceived a great liking for the bronzed barbarian, and soon tiring of carrying on conversation with him through an interpreter, she set about teaching him her own language, with the result that it was not long before Tarzan could carry on a conversation in Latin; nor did he lack opportunity to practice his new accomplishment, since Festivitas never tired of hearing stories of the outer world and of the manners and customs of modern civilization.
And while Tarzan of the Apes waited in Castra Sanguinarius for word that von Harben had been seen in the valley, the man he sought was living the life of a young patrician attached to the court of the Emperor of the East, and though much of his time was pleasantly employed in the palace library, yet he chafed at the knowledge that he was virtually a prisoner and was often formulating plans for escape—plans that were sometimes forgotten when he sat beneath the spell of the daughter of Septimus Favonius.
And often in the library he discovered only unadulterated pleasure in his work, and thoughts of escape were driven from his mind by discoveries of such gems as original Latin translations of Homer and of hitherto unknown manuscripts of Vergil, Cicero, and Caesar—manuscripts that dated from the days of the young republic and on down the centuries to include one of the early satires of Juvenal.
Thus the days passed, while far off in another world a frightened little monkey scampered through the upper terraces of a distant forest.
Chapter Twelve
A PENCHANT for boasting is not the prerogative of any time, or race, or individual, but is more or less common to all. So it is not strange that Mpingu, filled with the importance of the secret that he alone shared with his mistress and the household of Maximus Praeclarus, should have occasionally dropped a word here and there that might impress his listeners with his importance.
Mpingu meant no harm. He was loyal to the house of Dion Splendidus and he would not willingly have brought harm to his master or his master's friend, but so it is often with people who talk too much, and Mpingu certainly had done that. The result was that upon a certain day, as he was bartering in the market-place for provisions for the kitchen of Dion Splendidus, he felt a heavy hand laid upon his shoulder and, turning, he was astonished to find himself looking into the face of a centurion of the palace guard, behind whom stood a file of legionaries.
'You are Mpingu, the slave of Dion Splendidus?' demanded the centurion.
'I am,' replied the man.
'Come with us,' commanded the centurion.
Mpingu drew back, afraid, as all men feared the soldiers of Caesar. 'What do you want of me?' he demanded. 'I have done nothing.'
'Come, barbarian,' ordered the soldier. 'I was not sent to confer with you, but to get you!' And he jerked Mpingu roughly toward him and pushed him back among the soldiers.
A crowd had gathered, as crowds gathered always when a man is arrested, but the centurion ignored the crowd as though it did not exist, and the people fell aside as the soldiers marched away with Mpingu. No one questioned or interfered, for who would dare question an officer of Caesar? Who would interfere in behalf of a slave?
Mpingu thought that he would be taken to the dungeons beneath the Colosseum, which was the common jail in which all prisoners were confined; but presently he realized that his captors were not leading him in that direction, and when finally it dawned upon him that the palace was their goal he was filled with terror.
Never before had Mpingu stepped foot within the precincts of the palace grounds, and when the imperial gate closed behind him he was in a mental state bordering upon collapse. He had heard stories of the cruelty of Sublatus, of the terrible vengeance wreaked upon his enemies, and he had visions that paralyzed his mind so that he was in a state of semi-consciousness when he was finally led into an inner chamber where a high dignitary of the court confronted him.
'This,' said the centurion, who had brought him, 'is Mpingu, the slave of Dion Splendidus, whom I was commanded to fetch to you.'
'Good!' said the official. 'You and your detachment may remain while I question him.' Then he turned upon Mpingu. 'Do you know the penalties one incurs for aiding the enemies of Caesar?' he demanded.
Mpingu's lower jaw moved convulsively as though he would reply, but he was unable to control his voice.
'They die,' growled the officer, menacingly. 'They die terrible deaths that they will remember through all eternity.'
'I have done nothing,' cried Mpingu, suddenly regaining control of his vocal cords.
'Do not lie to me, barbarian,' snapped the official. 'You aided in the escape of the prisoner who called himself Tarzan and even now you are hiding him from your Emperor.'
'I did not help him escape. I am not hiding him,' wailed Mpingu.
'You lie. You know where he is. You boasted of it to other slaves. Tell me where he is.'
'I do not know,' said Mpingu.
'If your tongue were cut out, you could not tell us where he is,' said the Roman. 'If red-hot irons were thrust into your eyes, you could not see to lead us to his hiding-place; but if we find him without your help, and we surely shall find him, we shall need neither your tongue nor your eyes. Do you understand?'
'I do not know where he is,' repeated Mpingu.
The Roman turned away and struck a single blow upon a gong, after which he stood in silence until a slave entered the room in response to the summons. 'Fetch tongs,' the Roman instructed the slave, 'and a charcoal brazier with burning-irons. Be quick.'
After the slave had left, silence fell again upon the apartment. The official was giving Mpingu an opportunity to think, and Mpingu so occupied the time in thinking that it seemed to him that the slave had scarcely left the apartment before he returned again with tongs and a lighted burner, from the glowing heart of which protruded the
