When Callista, then, had so boldly left the cottage to stop the intruders, she had in one important point reckoned without her host. She spoke Latin fluently, herself, and could converse with the townspeople, most of whom could do the same; but it was otherwise with the inhabitants of the country, numbers of whom, as we have said, were in Sicca on the day of the outbreak. The two fellows, whom she went out to withstand, knew neither her nor the Latin tongue. They were of a race which called itself Canaanite, and really was so; huge, gigantic men, who looked like the sons of Enac, described in Holy Writ. They knew nothing of roads or fences, and had scrambled up the hill as they could, the shortest way, and, being free from the crowd, with far more expedition than had they followed the beaten track. She and they could not understand each other’s speech; but her appearance spoke for her, and, in consequence, they seized on her as their share of the booty, and without more ado, carried her off towards Sicca. As they came up by a route of their own, so they returned, and entered the city by a gate more to the south, not the Septimian; a happy circumstance, as otherwise she would have stood every chance of being destroyed in that wholesale massacre which the soldiery inflicted on the crowd as it returned.

These giants, then, got possession of Callista, and she entered Sicca upon the shoulder of one of them, who danced in with no greater inconvenience than if he was carrying on it a basket of flowers, or a box of millinery. Here the party met with the city police, who were stationed at the gate.

“Down with your live luggage, you rascals,” they said, in their harsh Punic; “what have you to do with plunder of this kind? and how came you by her?”

“She’s one of those Christian rats, your worship,” answered the fellow, who, strong as he was, did not relish a contest with some dozen of armed men. “Long live the Emperor! We’ll teach her to eat asses’ heads another time, and brew fevers. I found her with a party of Christians. She’s nothing but a witch, and she knows the consequences.”

“Let her go, you drunken animal!” said the constable, still keeping his distance. “I’ll never believe any woman is a Christian, let alone so young a one. And now I look at her, so far as I can see by this light, I think she’s priestess of one of the great temples up there.”

“She can turn herself into anything,” said the other of her capturers, “young or old. I saw her one night near Madaura, a month ago, in the tombs in the shape of a black cat.”