All were crowned with chaplets of flowers, and were half covered with roses, of which showers had fallen from above upon them. Nero lay on a couch at the end of the table; his features were flushed with wine. Beric repressed the exclamation of indignant disgust that rose to his lips, and walking calmly up to Nero said coldly, “I am told that you want me, Caesar.”

“I do, my fighter of lions,” Nero said unsteadily. “I would see this paragon of whom Rufinus tells me, whom you guard so jealously from my eyes. Send and fetch her hither. She will be a worthy queen of our revels.”

“It is an honour to me to obey your majesty’s commands in all matters that regard myself,” Beric said; “but in regard to my promised wife, no! This is no place for a Roman lady; and even at the risk of your displeasure, Caesar, I refuse to dishonour her by bringing her into such an assembly.”

“I told you he would refuse, Caesar,” Rufinus, who was lying on the couch next to Nero, laughed.

Nero was speechless with surprise and anger at Beric’s calm refusal to obey his orders. “Do I understand,” he said at last, “that you refuse to obey me?”

“I do, Caesar. It is not a lawful command, and I distinctly refuse to obey it.”

“Then, by the gods, your life is forfeit!” Nero said, rising to his feet.

“You may thank your gods, Caesar, that I have more sense of honour than you. Were it otherwise, I would strike you dead at my feet. But a British chief disdains to fight an unarmed foe, and I who have eaten your bread and taken your wages am doubly bound not to lift my hand against you.” Then he lifted his voice and cried, “Run, Philo!”

The revellers by this time had all started to their feet. Nero, shrinking backwards behind them, called loudly for help. Rufinus, who had shown bravery in the wars, drew a dagger from beneath his toga and sprang at Beric. The latter caught his uplifted wrist, and with a sharp wrench forced him to drop the weapon; then he seized him in his grasp. “You shall do no more mischief, Rufinus,” he said, and raising him in his arms hurled him with tremendous force against a marble pillar, where he fell inert and lifeless, his skull being completely beaten in by the blow.

The hall rang with the shrieks of women and the shouts of men. There was a sound of heavy footsteps, and eight of the Praetorian guards, with drawn swords, ran in on the other side of the chamber. “Boduoc!” Beric shouted; and in a moment his follower stood beside him and handed him his sword and buckler.

“Kill him!” Nero shouted frantically. “The traitor would have slain me.”

Beric and Boduoc stepped back to the door by which they had entered, and awaited the onset of the Praetorians. For a moment these hesitated, for Beric’s figure was well known in the palace, and not one of them but had heard of his encounter with the lion. The emperor’s shouts, however, overcame their reluctance, and shoulder to shoulder they rushed forward to the attack. Two fell instantly, helmet and head cloven by the swords of the Britons, who at once took the offensive and drove the others before them, slaying three more and putting the others to flight. But the success was temporary, for now a great body of the guard poured into the room.

“Step back through the doorway, Boduoc,” Beric said; “their numbers will not avail them then.”

The doors were ten feet in width. This gave room to but three men to enter at once and use their arms to advantage, and for two or three minutes the Britons kept the Praetorians at bay, eight of them having fallen beneath their blows; then there was a shout, and the Roman soldiers came running in at a door at the end of the chamber. “Fall back to the next door,” Beric said; but as he spoke there was a rush behind, and nineteen Britons ran into the room, and uttering the war cry of the Iceni flung themselves upon the Roman soldiers. These, taken by surprise at the sudden appearance of these tall warriors, and ignorant of what further reinforcements might be coming up, gave ground, and were speedily beaten back, a score of them falling beneath the Britons’ swords.

“Now retreat!” Beric cried as the room was cleared; “retreat at full speed. Show them the way, Boduoc, by the staircase down into the garden. Quick! there is not a moment to lose. I will guard the rear.”

They ran down the passage, through Beric’s room, down a long corridor, and then by stairs leading thence into the garden, which was indeed a park of considerable size, with lakes, shrubberies, and winding walks. The uproar in the palace was no longer heard by the time they were halfway across the park; but they ran at full speed until they reached a door in the wall. Of this Beric had some time before obtained a key from the head gardener, and always carried this about with him. As they stopped they looked back towards the palace. Distant shouts could be heard, and the lights of numbers of torches could be seen spreading out in all directions.

Beric opened the door and locked it behind him when all had passed out. “Now,” he said to his companions, “make your way down to the road leading out to the Alban Hills. Break up and go singly, so that you may not be noticed. It will be a good half hour before the news of what has occurred is known beyond the palace. Do not pass through the frequented streets, but move along the dark lanes as much as possible. When half a mile beyond the city we will reunite.”

An hour later the whole party were gathered beyond the city. All were delighted to escape from what they considered slavery, and

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