“He's going to quit now!” thought Marcus, as Gaius led his eyes in his direction. The Victorinus did not know how to watch the face in such tense moments, which was very important. It's like a game of nuts that Marcus once watched by slaves, one hiding a few nuts in his fist, trying to keep his face unflappable, while others tried to guess their number. Showy indifference was one of the keys to success in that game. But not only that. As Marcus noted, composure often helped to prevail in other games. And if in games, why not in life?
Victorinus threw the ball in the direction of Marcus and he caught it, but at the same time Fuscianus threw to him and Gaius could not react quickly. The ball fell to the ground, rolled to the feet of Baebius Longus.
“Dropped it, dropped it!” Longus shouted. “How embarrassing you are, Gaius! A yokel! Missed so many goals!”
Indeed, Gaius was much inferior to Marcus and Seius in the number of goals conceded. He reminded Marcus of a crow, the same black hair, the same choppy bird movements. Tall and wiry, Gaius had small eyes close to his nose and a large nose that looked like a curved beak. Perhaps he should have been born among the family of Valerius, one of which was nicknamed Raven.
“I swear by Hercules, you don't think wrong!” Victorinus retorted, biting his lower lip with annoyance. “I missed less than Marcus.”
“Not less, but more!” Baebius Longus stomped his foot.
“Of course, more!” Fuscianus supported him.
“I think so well.” Victorinus did not retreat. “I can swear by all the gods that I am right, and you are wrong.”
“Do you want to swear? Really, Gaius?” Marcus came up to him and looked into his eyes.
“Yes, I'm ready!”
“If you swear, it's like Mucius Scaevola,29 as otherwise, we won't believe your oath. Hey, Cleont,” he ordered the slave, “bring the brazier!”
Hearing this sentence, Victorinus turned pale, but the young stubbornness made him stand his ground.
“Bring it to me!” he supported Marcus.
Alarmed by these preparations, Fuscianus and Longus came closer, they wanted to calm the debaters.
“Okay, Marcus,” Longus said conciliatorily, “let him swear by Hercules. That's enough!”
Marcus turned away, stepped aside. His big eyes darkened, and his face became sullen.
“I don't like liars!” he said passionately. “Everyone should be responsible for their words, as the teacher Diognetus said.”