There was little comfort upon the cold, hard stones of the dungeon floor, but Tarzan, inured to hardship from birth, slept soundly until the coming of the jailer with food awakened him several hours after sunrise. Water and coarse bread were doled out to the inmates of the dungeon by slaves in charge of a surly half-caste in the uniform of a legionary.
As he ate, Tarzan surveyed his fellow prisoners. There was Cassius Hasta of Castrum Mare, son of a Caesar, and Maximus Praeclarus, a patrician of Castra Sanguinarius and captain of Legionaries. These, with himself, were the only whites. There was Lukedi, the Bagego who had befriended him in the village of Nyuto, and Mpingu, the slave of Dion Splendidus, who had betrayed him, and now, in the light from the little barred window, he recognized also another Bagego—Ogonyo, who still cast fearful eyes upon Tarzan as one might upon any person who was on familiar terms with the ghost of one's grandfather.
In addition to these three, there were five strapping warriors from the outer villages of Castra Sanguinarius, picked men chosen because of their superb physiques for the gladiatorial contests that would form so important a part of the games that would shortly take place in the arena for the glorification of Caesar and the edification of the masses. The small room was so crowded that there was barely space upon the floor for the eleven to stretch their bodies, yet there was one vacant ring in the stone wall, indicating that the full capacity of the dungeon had not been reached.
Two days and nights dragged slowly by. The inmates of the cell amused themselves as best they could, though the Negroes were too downcast to take a lively interest in anything other than their own sad forebodings.
Tarzan talked much with these and especially with the five warriors from the outer villages. From long experience with them he knew the minds and the hearts of these men, and it was not difficult for him to win their confidence and, presently, he was able to instill within them something of his own courageous self-reliance, which could never accept or admit absolute defeat.
He talked with Praeclarus about Castra Sanguinarius and with Cassius Hasta about Castrum Mare. He learned all that they could tell him about the forthcoming triumph and games; about the military methods of their people, their laws and their customs until he, who all his Life had been accounted taciturn, might easily have been indicted for loquacity by his fellow prisoners, yet, though they might not realize it, he asked them nothing without a well- defined purpose.
Upon the third day of his incarceration another prisoner was brought to the crowded cell in which Tarzan was chained. He was a young white man in the tunic and cuirass of an officer. He was received in silence by the other prisoners, as seemed to be the custom among them, but after he had been fastened to the remaining ring and the soldiers who had brought him had departed, Cassius Hasta greeted him with suppressed excitement.
'Caecilius Metellus!' he exclaimed.
The other turned in the direction of Hasta's voice, his eyes not yet accustomed to the gloom of the dungeon.
'Hasta!' he exclaimed. 'I would know that voice were I to hear it rising from the blackest depths of Tartarus.'
'What ill fortune brought you here?' demanded Hasta.
'It is no ill fortune that unites me with my best friend,' replied Metellus.
'But tell me how it happened, insisted Cassius Hasta.
'Many things have happened since you left Castrum Mare,' replied Metellus. 'Fulvus Fupus has wormed his way into the favor of the Emperor to such an extent that all of your former friends are under suspicion and in actual danger. Mallius Lepus is in prison. Septimus Favonius is out of favor with the Emperor and would be in prison himself were it not that Fupus is in love with Favonia, his daughter. But the most outrageous news that I have to communicate to you is that Validus Augustus has adopted Fulvus Fupus and has named him as his successor to the imperial purple.'
'Fupus a Caesar!' cried Hasta, in derision. 'And sweet Favonia? It cannot be that she favors Fulvus Fupus?'
'No,' replied Metellus, 'and that fact lies at the bottom of all the trouble. She loves another, and Fupus, in his desire to possess her, has utilized the Emperor's jealousy of you to destroy every obstacle that stands in his way.'
'And whom does Favonia love?' asked Cassius Hasta. 'It cannot be Mallius Lepus, her cousin?'
'No,' replied Metellus, 'it is a stranger. One whom you have never known.'
'How can that be?' demanded Cassius Hasta. 'Do I not know every patrician in Castrum Mare?'
'He is not of Castrum Mare.'
'Not a Sanguinarian?' demanded Cassius Hasta.
'No, he is a barbarian chieftain from Germania .'
'What nonsense is this?' demanded Hasta.
'I speak the truth,' replied Metellus. 'He came shortly after you departed from Castrum Mare, and being a scholar well versed in the history of ancient and modern Rome he won the favor of Validus Augustus, but he brought ruin upon himself and upon Mallius Lepus and upon Septimus Favonius by winning the love of Favonia and with it the jealous hatred of Fulvus Fupus.'
'What is his name?' asked Cassius Hasta.
'He calls himself Erich von Harben,' replied Metellus.
'Erich von Harben,' repeated Tarzan. 'I know him. Where is he now? Is he safe?'
Caecilius Metellus turned his eyes in the direction of the ape-man. 'How do you know Erich von Harben, Sanguinarian?' he demanded. 'Perhaps then the story that Fulvus Fupus told Validus Augustus is true—that this Erich von Harben is in reality a spy from Castra Sanguinarius.'
'No,' said Maximus Praeclarus. 'Do not excite yourself. This Erich von Harben has never been in Castra Sanguinarius, and my friend here is not himself a Sanguinarian: He is a white barbarian from the outer world, and if his story be true, and I have no reason to doubt it, he came here in search of this Erich von Harben.'
'You may believe this story, Metellus,' said Cassius Hasta. 'These both are honorable men and since we have been in prison together we have become good friends. What they tell you is the truth.'
'Tell me something of von Harben,' insisted Tarzan. 'Where is he now and is he in danger from-the machinations of this Fulvus Fupus?'
'He is in prison with Mallius Lepus in Castrum Mare.' replied Metellus, 'and if he survives the games, which he will not, Fupus will find some other means to destroy him.'
'When are the games held?' asked Tarzan.
'They start upon the ides of August,' replied Cassius Hasta.
'And it is now about the nones of August,' said Tarzan.
'Tomorrow,' corrected Praeclarus.
'We shall know it then,' said Cassius Hasta, 'for that is the date set for the triumph of Sublatus.'
'I am told that the games last about a week,' said Tarzan. 'How far is it to Castrum Mare?'
'Perhaps an eight hours' march for fresh troops,' said Caecilius Metellus; 'but why do you ask? Are you planning on making a trip to Castrum Mare?'
Tarzan noted the other's smile and the ironic tone of his voice. 'I am going to Castrum Mare,' he said.
'Perhaps you will take us with you,' laughed Metellus.
'Are you a friend of von Harben?' asked Tarzan.
'I am a friend of his friends and an enemy of his enemies, but I do not know him well enough to say that he is my friend.'
'But you have no love for Validus Augustus, the Emperor?' asked Tarzan.
'No,' replied the other.
'And I take it that Cassius Hasta has no reason to love his uncle, either?' continued Tarzan.
'You are right,' said Hasta.
'Perhaps I shall take you both, then,' said Tarzan.
The two men laughed.
'We shall be ready to go with you when you are ready to take us,' said Cassius Hasta.
'You may count me in on the party, too,' said Maximus Praeclarus, 'if Cassius Hasta will remain my friend in Castrum Mare.'
