A chamberlain approached Vergilius, whispered a few inquiries, and then led him before the king.
Herod was having a bad day.
"Traitors!" he hissed.

In a voice like the menacing growl of a savage beast he added: "May their eyes rot in their heads! Go! I have heard enough, bearer of evil tidings." Far down the great chamber in which half a cohort could have stood comfortably, in a carved chair on a dais, under a vault and against a background of blue, Babylonian tapestry, sat the king.

A priest had bowed low and was now leaving his presence.

The chamberlain announced, in a loud voice, "Vergilius, son of Varro, of Rome, and officer of the fatherly and much-beloved Gaius Julius Caesar Octavianus Augustus." The king sat erect, a purple tarboosh and crown of wrought gold upon his head.

As Vergilius approached, the dark, suspicious eyes of Herod were surveying him from under long, quivering tufts of gray hair.