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indeed?' And as there was no immediate reply from the other bunk, he
added, testily, 'What do you mean?'
    'I mean, sir, if the garrison is unruly and disorderly, my master will
exact obedience. It is not for his slave to suggest how this may be
accomplished; but it will be safer for my master if he takes full command of
the fort instantly--and firmly!'
    Marcellus raised himself on one elbow and searched the Greek's eyes in
the gloom of the stuffy cabin.
    'I see what you have in mind, Demetrius. Now that we know the temper of
this place, you think the new Legate should not bother about making himself
agreeable, but should swagger in and crack a few heads without waiting for
formal introductions.'
    'Something like that,' approved Demetrius.
    'Give them some strong medicine, eh? Is that your idea?'
    'When one picks up a nettle, sir, one should not grasp it gently. Perhaps
these idle men would be pleased to obey a commander as well-favoured and
fearless as my master.'
    'Your words are gracious, Demetrius.'
    'Almost any man, sir, values justice and courage. My master is just--and
my master is also bold.'
    'That's how your master got into this predicament, Demetrius,' chuckled
Marcellus ironically, 'by being bold.'
    Apparently unwilling to discuss that unhappy circumstance, but wanting
to support his end of the conversation, Demetrius said, 'Yes, sir,' so soberly
that Marcellus laughed. Afterwards there was such a long hiatus that it was
probable the Corinthian had dropped off to sleep, for the lazy roll of the
little ship was an urgent sedative. Marcellus lay awake for an hour,
consolidating the plan suggested by his shrewd and loyal Greek. Demetrius, he
reflected, is right. If I am to command this fort at all, I must command it
from the moment of my arrival. If they strike me down my exit will be at least
honourable.

    It was well past mid-afternoon on the eighth day of March when Captain
Manius manoeuvred his unwieldly little tub through the busy roadstead of Gaza,
and warped her flank against a vacant wharf. His duties at the moment were
pressing, but he found time to say good-bye to the young Tribune with something
of the sombre solicitude of the next of kin bidding farewell to the dying.
    Demetrius had been among the early ones over the rail. After a while he
returned with five husky Syrians, to whom he pointed out the burdens to be
carried. There were no uniforms on the dirty wharf, but Marcellus was not
disappointed. He had not expected to be met. The garrison had not been advised
of his arrival. He would be obliged to appear at the fort unheralded.
    Gaza was in no hurry, probably because of her great age and many
infirmities. It was a full hour before enough pack-asses were found to carry
the baggage. Some more time was consumed in loading them. Another hour was
spent moving at tortoise speed through the narrow, rough-cobbled, filthy
streets, occasionally blocked by shrieking contestants for the right of way.
    The Syrians had divined the Tribune's destination when they saw his
uniform, and gave him a surly obedience. At length they were out on a busy,
dusty highway, Marcellus heading the procession on a venerable, half-shed
camel, led by the reeking Syrian with whom Demetrius--by pantomime--had haggled
over the price of the expedition. This bargaining had amused Marcellus; for
Demetrius, habitually quiet and reserved, had shouted and gesticulated with the
best of them. Knowing nothing about the money of Gaza, or the rates for the
service he sought, the Corinthian had fiercely objected to the Syrian's first
three proposals, and had finally come to terms with savage mutters and scowls.
It was difficult to recognize Demetrius in this new rôle.
    Far ahead, viewed through the billowing clouds of yellow dust, appeared
an immensely ugly twelve-acre square bounded by a high wall built of sun-baked
brick, its corners dignified by tall towers. As they drew nearer, a limp Roman
banner was identified, pendent from an oblique pole at