Why couldn't he get killed at Treves or Lyons or Aquileia?
Why must he humiliate me by this exhibition of himself before
me and all Rome? The quicker he is killed the better. I'm praying
he'll be killed at once."

"Oh, Brinnaria!" groaned the horrified Manlia.

The Thracian was not killed in that first fight; he was never in
any danger of being killed. He played with his man as a cat plays
with a mouse; held him off without an effort, caught the attention
of all the nearby spectators; won their interest by the perfection
of his sword-play; and aroused their enthusiasm by that nameles
quality which marks off, from even the best drilled talent, the
man who is a born genius in his line.

He pinked his victim between corselet and helmet, so lightly that
only those spectators watching most closely saw the lunge, so
effectually that the man died almost as he fell.

"You must have prayed for him to win; I did," spoke Manlia.

"I didn't," Brinnaria snapped. "I prayed for him to be killed. I
wish he had been. I'm not the only one who has recognized him.
Aurelius has and he has told Antoninus; I watched him."

"How could you?" Manlia exclaimed. "How could you watch
anything but Almo?"

"I could and I did," Brinnaria asseverated. "I'm looking all
ways at once, just now. The news is all over the Imperial loge