Lynne Ellison's The Green Bronze Mirror

by Christopher Posner

wide open.

  Karen slipped off her dress and went over to the window in the short linen shift she wore underneath. A black girl with short frizzy hair joined her. Karen sighed.

  'Another hot night,' she said, and the black girl agreed, stretching herself until the bones in her shoulders cracked. Outside in the dusk, the swifts were just visible, swooping over the city, and bats flittered in and out of Karen's view. She rested her elbows on the casement, reluctant to turn back into the warm stuffiness of the dormitory.

  The Vicus Longus came straight between the Viminal hill where the House of Caecina stood, and the Quirinal next to it. In the distance Karen could vaguely see a gap in the roofs which was the Forum, and the Circus Maximus beyond. Since the house stood near the top of the hill, there was a good view of nearly the whole of the city, from the elegant mansions on the Quirinal opposite to the towering jumble of tenements down by the river.

  ‘At night Rome was not quiet’

  At night Rome was not quiet. Anyone wishing to take carts through the city had to do so then, and the clopping of endless hoofs and the slow rumbling of waggons floated up to Karen, not very loud at that distance, but she could imagine what it would be like in the ground floors of the tenements, for they bordered right on to the narrow streets.

  A soft step sounded on the floor outside and Volumnia's forbidding shadow was thrown across the room. 'Come to bed, you two!' she snapped. 'You'll not get up in the morning, else.'

  'Mmm,' said Karen absently, then straightened up, yawned, and sat down on her mattress. 'Goodnight,' she whispered to the black girl, not Volumnia.

  She slept eventually, and dreamed that the new slave was Anne and that they ran away together. Finally they were caught and crucified, but they felt no pain at all, not even when the nails were driven in, and all the people watching were amazed. The expressions on their faces were ludicrous, and she smiled in her sleep.

  VII

  'POOR OLD HANNO,' SAID RHODA THE NEXT MORNING. 'WE must say goodbye to him before he goes.'

  The two girls were tidying up the dormitory before going to their breakfast. Like all the slaves, they always got up much earlier than the family.

  Over the light meal of bread and a mug of wine, Karen asked Hanno if he was sorry to go.

  'Not particularly,' he said. He was a red-head from southern Gaul who never said much. Karen could hardly say she would miss him, because she had hardly ever seen him. He was one of the Lady Julia's six litter-bearers, but his red curls did not match the dark hair of the others, and Julia thought him a sour-faced lump, so she was selling him. She had only bought him in the first place because of his rather splendid physique which had temporarily taken her fancy. Zenocrates, the head steward, had been advised to get a slave with dark hair this time.

  Later Karen saw Rhoda waiting in the atrium, a basket on each arm.

  'Oh, are you going with Zenocrates?' she asked.

  Rhoda nodded. 'Yes, worse luck,' she said. 'We're going on to the food market after buying the new slave. I wish I weren't going, though; I've far too many other things to get on with.'

  This was a chance for Karen to see a little of Rome, and it was a chance that did not come often. She seized it. 'I'll go for you.'

  Rhoda was delighted. 'Will you? Oh, you are a pal! Come and tell me about the new slave when you get back.' She thrust the baskets at Karen.

  Zenocrates soon appeared, his beard as snow-white as ever. He frowned when he saw Karen. 'I thought I told Rhoda to go?'

  'I'm to go instead. The Lady Julia sent for her,' she said on the spur of the moment; then hoped he would not check up on her story.

  'Well, no matter. Come along, girl, I haven't all day.'

  It was a long walk to the slave market, around all the network of streets, but Zenocrates seemed certain of the way, striding ahead like an angular crow. Sure enough, they finally came out behind a large, marble-faced building into the noise and bustle of the open square.

  'Now,' said Zenocrates, 'the question is, where to look?' He set off, up and down the rows, tugging his beard. 'I never ask the merchants, you know,' he remarked conversationally. 'They start rubbing their hands together and telling lies, and once they're started I know from experience they never stop!'

  Karen followed him slowly round the lines of slaves. She looked at them all, sympathizing with the ones who watched prospective buyers with anxious faces; sorry for those who had concealed all behind a blank, uncaring expression.

  She heard a voice behind her. 'I don't like that brand. We'll have to do something to disguise it. It's very unsightly for a house-slave.'

  Karen turned round, and saw a tall, balding man in a senator's purple-bordered toga. He was speaking to the same merchant who had sold Karen, and had his back to her. The merchant was gesticulating at a slave on a block. The slave's face was hidden from her by the merchant, but Karen was reminded of something by the senator's words, and moved so that she could see.

  To her immense surprise it was Kleon, the boy she had met at the auction in Britain, the one who had been friendly. He was looking more tired and haggard than ever, and he was watching the senator arguing about him so that he did not see Karen.

  She wondered how he had got here. Perhaps he had been bought by a soldier returning to Rome too. Why, he might have been on the same convoy the whole time. As she realized now that the senator was thinking of buying him, she felt her skin prickle with suspense, for the man looked irritable and harsh, and she wished she could do something to ensure Kleon's getting a decent master. It came to her how awful slavery could be, and how lucky she had really been. Was she now to watch a friend being sold without being able to do a thing about it? She listened, feeling sick.

  'Well, have you anything else?' the senator was asking.

  The merchant stroked his chin, lost in thought. He slowly shook his head. 'Not in this line,' he said. 'Not at the moment. You see, we haven't had any new stock in for a while.'

  'Then I'll go somewhere else,' said the senator shortly. 'Good day to you.'

  Karen breathed out; then all at once she had a brainwave.

  The House of Caecina wasn't a bad place. Could she possibly persuade Zenocrates to buy Kleon? He wouldn't be too out of place as a litter-slave, surely? What did one look for in a litter-slave?

  She tapped the merchant's arm. 'Don't sell him for a minute' she said. 'We were looking for a ... a new slave, and he looks about right. I'll fetch the steward in a second- don't sell him till I get back.'

  The merchant smiled patronizingly. 'Don't get so worried, dear,' he said. 'I'll wait here.' He did not seem to have recognized her. She had thought he might, but no. Hundreds of slaves passed through his hands every week; he would hardly remember them, unless he had got an exceptionally good or bad price.

  Karen ran through the market as fast as she could, crowding past the rows of slaves. Finally, gasping and breathless, she found Zenocrates looking over a group of Spaniards. She stopped and straightened her dress and hair. She must not reveal that she knew Kleon, or the old man would know she had only picked him because of that.

  'Where have you been?' he demanded.

  'I'm sorry-I got left behind. Have you found anything?'

  'Nothing to satisfy the Lady Julia,' he said gloomily.

  'Come over here then, sir,' she suggested. 'I noticed one that looks likely. Do come and see him!

  'Oh, very well. I hope it's worth my while, that's all! Where is he?'

  'Here,' said Karen 'What do- do you think?' She stammered in her excitement and hardly dared look at Kleon. When she did, however, he recognized her and his face lit up.

  She pressed a finger to her lips, telling him to be cautious, and he quickly shifted his features back into an emotionless mask.

  The merchant had meanwhile come bustling up. He bowed to Zenocrates. 'Aha! The steward of the House of Caecina, is it not? Would you be interested in this slave?'

  'Yes,' said Ze
nocrates absently, walking round to view Kleon from the back. He reached out and felt his arm, pinching the muscles.

  'Yes,' he said again. 'Would he be suitable for a litter-bearer?'

  Kleon's eyebrows rose a fraction, and Karen could see he was mulling over the possibilities of this. She had not thought that he might not like the idea of carrying the Lady Julia round. She looked at him anxiously, but he lightly shrugged his shoulders to show that he didn't really care one way or another.

  'Hmm…' Zenocrates said finally 'reasonably strong. Not bad looking, either, apart from the thinness..' He ran a hand down Kleon's leg and Kleon stiffened slightly. This brought Zenocrates out of his reverie.

  'How much do you want for him?'

  They started haggling and Karen waited impatiently, fidgeting on one foot. Eventually they came to an agreement, and the bag of sesterces changed hands.

  'I'll give you a bit of rope to tie his hands with,' the merchant offered.

  'Please don't tie him up,' begged Karen. 'I was hoping he could help me with my baskets.'

  'Oh, very well. Come on, you. We'll visit the food-market before we go back to the house. Bring the baskets, Karen.' Zenocrates stalked ahead, peering around the fruit stalls, and Karen went behind with Kleon.

  'I've been thinking about you actually,' she said shyly. 'And when I saw you standing there....'

  'So have I,' he said, and slipped his hand quietly in hers. She squeezed it in return. Suddenly she felt overwhelmingly happy.

  The baskets were soon filled with fruit, vegetables and fish, and Kleon carried one, which helped because they were heavy. Then the trio went slowly back to the house on the Viminal Hill.

  Outside the side-door, Zenocrates winked at them. 'Now I know why you were so anxious for me to buy this one,' he said. 'Where did you meet him?'

  Karen stared. 'How did you know I knew him?'

  'My dear child, it is my business to know everything, especially about people. You'd better take him along to the bathroom.' He nodded at Kleon. 'And you'd better prove a good buy.'

  Kleon was not as modest as Karen had been. He undressed in front of her and dived unabashed into the water.

  'Kleon!' she said.

  He grinned at her. 'Don't be so horrified,' he said. 'What's so wrong with undressing? I don't want to bath with my clothes on.'

  She laughed then. 'You're right, there's nothing wrong really, but where I come from it's not exactly done.'

  She watched him swimming round the bath, turning over and over in the warm water. 'I'll go and get you a clean tunic,' she said.

  She debated between a white one with a blue border, and a saffron-yellow one. Finally she chose white because it went better with his dark hair.

  'You look nice in that,' she said, when he had got it on, 'I picked it' to go with your hair.'

  'You're a funny kid,' he said, 'and rather sweet, too.'

  She laughed. 'You have a face as sad as a horse, somehow. But don't be offended. I like horses.'

  'So you like me?'

  'I suppose so.' He was standing close to her now and she could smell the herbs that the tunic had been stored in. He took her by the shoulders, and kissed her ever so lightly on the lips. She put her arms round his neck and closed her eyes.

  They broke apart at last and smiled at each other. 'You're a fast worker!' said Karen. 'The Lady Julia'd better not catch us at it- or Volumnia.' She grinned at the thought.

  Kleon glanced round. He had yet to find out who Volumnia was. 'Does Julia ever come in here?'

  'No. She spends all her time going out to dinner parties and making up for them. You'll never guess what I have to do - I look after the children. Do I look like a nursemaid?'

  'No. You look like a ... I don't know. Not like a nursemaid, though. Heaven forbid! Huge, motherly and buxom. It doesn't describe you.'

  'I'm very glad to hear it, but do hurry up. I expect Zenocrates will tell you what to do. Oh, Kleon, I do hope you’ll like it here.'

  'I don't see why I shouldn't, actually. Do they beat you much?'

  'Beat us? No, not much, as far as I know. This isn't a bad place at all. Anyway, let's go.'

  She started to show him where the main rooms were, and they were just crossing the atrium when the bell for the midday meal rang, so she took him to the kitchen. There she found Rhoda, Anicetus and Tiro all sitting around the table and waiting to be introduced.

  She greeted them, and gave Rhoda a long look, trying to tell her without words just how nice Kleon was. She only said: 'This is Kleon,' but her face said a good deal to the understanding Rhoda.

  Kleon smiled back at them and made a mental note of their names. They seemed nice people, but then, they were Karen's friends. At first Karen hardly saw Kleon except occasionally at mealtimes, because he worked outside and there were separate rooms for the outdoor slaves. However, after a few days Julia sent for him and he was told to wait at table instead of carrying the litter. Julia changed her slaves' tasks almost as often as she changed their names; if they were badly-behaved they were given the menial tasks or sent to work on Lucius' estate.

  Karen and Kleon were pleased at the promotion, because now they had more opportunity of seeing each other. One afternoon Karen went to the laundry-room and found him dropping a dirty tunic into the bin. The laundry-room was a favourite place for gossiping instead of working, and she asked him what had happened to him since they had met in Britain.

  He was silent for a minute.

  'I was bought by a legionary from up the coast- didn't a legionary buy you, too?'

  Karen nodded. 'Well, this man that took me was going back to Italy on leave in about five days or something, and until the five days were up I had a beastly time of it. I was everyone's dogsbody and he himself was a perfect brute-a decurion, I think.'

  'He wasn't called Duillius Rufus by any chance?'

  'No- Marcus someone, I think. Why?'

  'Doesn't matter. Go on.'

  'The number of kicks, threats and beatings I got in those five days wouldn't bear going over. I don't know why the man didn't like me. Enough that he didn't! I tried to work well enough for him, but there was no pleasing the so-and-so; I think he was one of the old school, you know: grind 'em down till they fear you, that's the only way to get any work out of 'em. Anyway, at last the time came, and he got a passage across to Gaul on a merchant-ship. I, of course, was put to the oars.'

  'Oh, how awful!'

  ‘I, of course, was put to the oars.’

  'It was. I’ve worked hard, but never as hard as that, although it was only for two days. We had to row all day and night because there was a wind against us most of the way. Then the merchant who owned the ship wanted to buy me, to row permanently. That was the last straw and I went for him, meaning to kill him, I suppose. Only two days' rowing, too, and I couldn't stand any more. You should have seen the other poor wretches, Karen. They never even spoke to each other. My attack on the merchant had one good result, though, because he didn't want to buy me after that! But they beat me for it, for half an hour with a knotted whip. Look.' He turned around and shrugged the thin, loose undertunic off his shoulders.

  All down the length of his back were scars of the lash, striped across from side to side. Karen was horrified. She ran a finger gently down his spine and he flinched.

  'Some of it's gone septic,' she said. 'Why didn't you tell me? I could have seen to it in the bathroom. Funny I never noticed; didn't you want me to know or something?' He smiled. 'I just didn't tell you. Besides, it only hurts in a few places, and when I stretch my back. The scabs are nearly gone. Please don't press it; that makes it sting.'

  'I'd better bathe it in the morning.'

  'Yes, you had,' said Rhoda, coming in at the door with a bundle of washing.

  'Rhoda! I didn't know you'd been listening.'

  'I'm sorry. But I heard Kleon telling you what happened to him and I got interested. Poor Kleon! What a ghastly time you'v
e had. I'm glad I'm not a man. Do go on.'

  'There's not an awful lot more. The legionary took me down across Gaul. He rode a mule, but I walked all the way. Did that mule walk fast? I was worn out by the time we reached his home. He lived on one of the farming-estates, or rather his parents did.'

  'That's funny. So did Marius.'

  'Not so funny; nearly all the soldiers do, unless they move to the city. He hired me out to the owner of the latifundia, to work on the land. Do you know what that's like?'

  'No.'

  'It's just like being cattle. I used to drag the plough, all day, up and down the fields. Plod, plod, one foot in front of the other, and red dust all over. And the man behind the plough had a long whip. They know where to cut you, in all the humiliating and painful places. It hurts if they cut you round the back of the knees. Makes you plunge at it.'

  Karen sat in silence for a minute. 'And then you were taken to Rome?'

  'Yes, a dealer bought me. It was better then, because although I was only in his hands for five days or- so he fed me well so that I would look better in the market. Nobody'll buy a slave who looks like a jaded horse. I must say I did look better, though. If you'd seen me on the latifundia you wouldn't have recognized me. I kept thinking about you, actually.'

  She reached to take his hand and it moved to meet hers at the same time. When they held hands it was a bond between them for thoughts to run across, thoughts that did not need voicing, only sharing.

  'Everything's all right now,' she said.

  VIII

  KAREN WAS CAREFUL TO GIVE GAIUS AND LUCILLA NO hint of what she felt for Kleon, but most of the slaves knew. She was sure, though, that they could be trusted to say nothing to Volumnia.

  A week after Kleon's arrival, the family went to the Amphitheatre. Apparently some rich man who had been appointed as an important magistrate was giving games to celebrate the occasion, and it was rumoured over Rome that they would be worth seeing. When she went to the market, Karen saw advertisements scrawled on every wall she passed, and the name of the man who had written the advertisement in small letters at the bottom- presumably as a small advertisement for himself.

  The children were full of it.

  'I can't wait till we go,' Gaius kept saying, and he was always trying to get Lucilla and Karen to play gladiators. 'I like the retiarii best, don't you, Lucilla?'

  'No, I like it when they have elephants. They do so bellow! It's frightening, but we're safe up on the seats, and we can see everything too.'

  Karen concealed her revulsion. It did not seem to mean much to them in terms of real life; they would not associate it with themselves.

  'Are you all going?' she asked.

  'Oh, yes! Father likes the shows, and Mother loves them. Sometimes she gets really carried away. Wait till you see her.'

  'Me?'

  'Yes, you're coming too. Mother said you'd better 'cos we need a nurse to keep an eye on us. So is Gallus.'

  'Are they taking him? It's hardly a dinner party.'

  'Father just likes to show him off to everyone there, that's all.'

  'Oh. What do you want to play right now?'

  'Gladiators!' they shouted in unison, and Karen sighed resignedly. There was no stopping them, but it wasn't a very nice game for children. Still, they might as well play it if they wanted to. They would think it very odd if she tried to stop them.

  The day of the shows soon arrived. At the fourth hour the family was up and breakfasted, and when the Lady Julia finally arrived- late as usual- they were ready.

  Karen and Gallus had a huge hamper of picnic food slung between them that made them stagger with its weight. Karen had thought that they would go to the Colosseum, and it was some time before she realized that it had not yet been built. The Amphitheatre was smaller, and partly constructed of wood, but it still seated masses of people.

  They went in by one of the many doors around the outside of the circular building, the tickets having been bought previously.

  Inside, the noise was deafening. It seemed as though everyone was shouting at the top of their voice, and the babble of talk filled the Amphitheatre to the brim. In the seats nearest to the high wall that ran around the pit-like arena, sat the important families of Rome, the high-born, the senators, and the very rich. The family of Caecina was in this category. Gallus spread cushions for them, and Karen sat farthest in, next to the children, then Julia and Lucius, and Gallus sat at the end of the row with the basket at his feet.

  No sooner were they settled than Julia began to nibble at sweets and complain that the shows never started on time. Karen thought how pampered she must be if a two-minute wait irked her so much.

  Gaius fidgeted in his place. 'I wish they'd hurry up,' he said. 'I suppose we're waiting for the emperor.'

  'Will he come here?' said Karen excitedly. Perhaps she'd see Nero in the flesh!

  'Of course,' Gaius replied. 'Oh, look! There are the vestal Virgins, in the white veils. The emperor'll be here soon.'

  The Imperial box was on the other side of the arena, opposite Karen and a little to the left. The Vestal Virgins filed into their. places, and five minutes later the emperor himself walked into the Imperial box.

  Everyone rose to their feet and acclaimed Nero with a great, deafening shout. He turned to right and left, acknowledging it, and Karen caught a glimpse of his face.

  It was a very fat face, especially around the jaw, and rather pale. His chinline sagged like a wet sack, and he had a great bull-neck divided from his head by a curled beard. The eyes were very small, and even at that distance Karen could see the cruelty clearly marked. He was wearing a purple toga with a gold border, and a laurel-wreath on his hair. Karen thought secretly that he was nothing but a sadistic, greasy pig.

  He finally sat down, and there was a rumbling noise as everyone else did likewise and made themselves comfortable. Then Nero raised his hand as a signal for the spectacle to begin.

  Karen leaned forward. Now she would see the famous Roman shows, whether she wanted to or not.

  First there was a long procession which went once round the arena, a procession of musicians, gladiators marching three abreast, four- and six-horse chariots; wild animals in cages, tame performing animals, and dancing-girls who were dressed in brief bikini-like garments, or thin gauze dresses.

  There were also groups of prisoners, convicts or Jewish rebels who shuffled miserably along with their feet in chains. The crowd booed, and threw things at them, and Karen thought how pitiful they were. She wondered what was to happen to them.

  When the procession had finished, it was the turn of the gladiators. They marched in again and saluted the emperor, twenty pairs of them. Some were heavily armed with short swords and cumbersome shields, some were hardly protected at all but had long curved knives, and the rest had tridents and nets. These last were the retiarii, which Gaius liked so much.

  The fighting commenced, each man being paired off with a pre-arranged opponent. Karen watched in horror as one man after another went down under ghastly wounds. There was blood everywhere, and as the wounded gladiators moved about, they became coated with it. The sand underfoot was quickly stained a nasty brown colour.

  The crowd roared and Karen shut her eyes. She thought it horrible, and the worst part was the way the spectators enjoyed it all.

  Gaius touched her arm and looked up in puzzlement. 'Aren't you enjoying it?' he asked. 'Oooh, look! Right through the leg!'

  Karen didn't want to, but she felt compelled to look. The man was twisting to and fro, enmeshed in the net of a retiarius, who jabbed at the writhing body until the jerking grew still. Karen pressed against the back of the seat, and dug her nails into the wood. The young woman next to her was leaning forward, however, eyes gleaming, anxious to miss no detail.

  There was one particularly good pair upon which the eyes of the spectators had focused, a retiarius and a Samnite, as the sword-men were called. The retiarius was p
artially disabled by a deep, gory cut above the elbow and could not use his net. The Samnite soon had him spreadeagled on the ground. He placed his mailed sandal on the retiarius's neck, poised the sword above his heart, and looked at the emperor.

  It was a dramatic moment. The sword gleamed in the yellow sunlight, and the man stood like a statue above the prone retiarius. The Samnite's helmet had long since come off; his hair gleamed golden brown and his slim, muscular thighs were streaked with sweat. After a moment of indecision the emperor looked at the mob who were furiously waving their handkerchiefs, raising their thumbs and shouting 'Let him go.' Slowly the emperor raised his thumb as a signal that the life of the retiarius was to be spared and Karen watched thankfully as he was carried off on a stretcher. Meanwhile the Samnite stayed in the ring with a half smile on his lips and a frown on his forehead, while the ladies blew kisses and threw roses and lace handkerchiefs, and the crowd cheered, ignoring the other fighters.

  The Lady Julia was beaming; she stood up and waved to the Samnite, although he did not see. Lucius looked bored; probably jealous, Karen thought. She wondered what the Samnite was thinking. Actually he was musing on the fact that half an hour earlier he had been prepared to meet death, and now, by virtue of a few lucky sword-strokes he was the darling of the whole great city of Rome and spared for another day.

  The heat in the Amphitheatre was terrific, although it was late September. The Lady Julia had brought her parasol, and so had most of the other rich ladies so that the first few tiers of seats were dotted with bright circles.

  Everyone waited with anticipation for the next item. It was a novelty- a battle between blue-painted Britons in three-horse chariots; a contest in which the naked drivers manoeuvred their clumsy vehicles cleverly, so that the blue-painted warriors could get at each other.

  There were three chariots, small and round, made of wood and wicker straps, pulled by stocky dun horses. The wheels had long curved blades attached to them, blades that flashed viciously as the wheels spun round; Karen didn't like to think what would happen to the horses, should they be caught by the spinning metal.

  She soon saw, though. One of the chariots shot past another, and the driver pulled in slightly. There was a scream from the offside horse and it dropped to its knees; the chariot went right on over it, the shaft-pole doubling up like matchwood. The other two horses were dragged round and half strangled in the harness before the chariot heeled on to its side. The two men were thrown over the front; the driver lay still and the warrior was dispatched by a kick from the frantic horses. Karen watched, transfixed with horror, as the two remaining chariots closed in. The driver of one was speared through the chest, but the warrior took a clear leap into the back of his opponent's car and hacked his head off.

  The body fell back into the dust, and the victorious Briton drove the terrified horses round the arena, his right arm raised in triumph.

  The din was tremendous. The sound bruised Karen's ears- a great shrieking that smacked of utter savagery. Suddenly she felt an urge to shout with them and scream herself hoarse, and she added her voice to the multitude, although it was lost in the tide.

  There was an hour's interval for lunch, and Gallus unpacked the hamper. It seemed as if the family's cook had thought of everything- rolls, eggs,

  cheese, fruit, cakes, sweets, chicken, ham, shrimps; there was nothing lacking until they found that he had forgotten wine, the very thing they were all needing most, so thirsty were they with the heat and excitement.

  'Really!' stormed Julia, in a temper, 'the inefficiency of that man! My dear Lucius, we shall have to replace him.'

  'I really don't think we shall have to do that,' he replied quietly. He never spoke much, and Karen saw him rarely, so she had hardly ever heard his voice before. It was hard and smooth, like the rest of him.

  “The driver of one was speared through the chest, but the warrior took a clear leap into the back of his opponent's car and hacked his head off.”

  People's voices were often like the rest of them, she reflected.

  'Karen, where are you?' Julia called petulantly. 'Go with Gallus and get us some wine from the merchants in the entrance. What, Gallus? Really, this noise- oh, Spanish wine, I should think, if they have it, shouldn't you, Lucius I said, shouldn't you think Spanish wine, Lucius? Oh, never mind. And hurry up, you two. I'm dying of thirst, positively dying!'

  'She can die, for all I care,' muttered Gallus as they