This prince was a handsome, clever young man and had great influence over the Emperor, but his ways were crooked and crafty and his heart was bad.

It happened soon after his marriage that war broke out with the Turks, and the Emperor was obliged to leave his young wife and put himself at the head of his army.

It troubled him to think of leaving Flavia with all the cares of the state on her hands. She was so young and would be so lonely in the great palace without him. It was a comfort, however, to think his brother would be there to help and cheer her, and in parting he earnestly prayed the prince to do all in his power to help and protect the Empress.

But scarcely had the Emperor gone when the prince began to plan and plot how he might get rid of his brother. If only by some happy chance the Emperor should be killed and never return, what good fortune that would be!

The prince had long been envious of his brother. He longed to seize both the crown and the beautiful Empress, but he was obliged to work cautiously.

First he began with Flavia. With a word here and a word there he tried to make her feel ill-used.

It is a pity, he said, that the dear Emperor has such a terrible temper. I fear you must often have suffered from it.

That I never have, said Flavia indignantly; he is always gentle with me.

Yet he has left you all alone and unprotected, said the prince. He really need not have gone away so soon.

He always does his duty, said Flavia proudly.

It was no use hinting to Flavia, and time was going on, so one day the prince spoke out boldly.

The Emperor will return no more, he said. I am about to arrange that he shall be accidentally killed, and then I shall seize the crown. Help me with my plans and you shall still be Empress.

For a moment Flavia was paralysed with and horror, and could not answer. The prince thought she was about to consent, and left her well pleased.

But he little knew Flavia. Scarcely had he gone out than she sent for the officer of the guard and bade him arrest the Emperor's brother immediately and see that he was locked up in a lonely tower outside the city where no one should go near him except the gaoler. The officer looked astonished, but Flavia did not tell him what crime the prince had committed; she could not bear to think that the Emperor's subjects should know that his brother was a base traitor. Then she wrote him a note in which she said that she hoped she would never look on his treacherous face again.

But though the prince found himself locked up and his plans upset, he did not despair, for he was very clever. First he pretended to be very ill indeed, and begged that a priest might be sent to him. Flavia was tender-hearted and could not bear to think he should die alone, so she sent him her own father confessor, a gentle old man who was very easily deceived. He very soon began to beg Flavia to release the prince.

I do not know what crime you accuse him of, said the old man, but he seems truly penitent. He cannot remember anything that happened before his illness, and, indeed, I think he has been quite out of his mind and did not know what he was doing.

Then the prince, too, wrote long letters, pretending to be terribly afraid of his brother's anger.

When he knows, he will kill me, he wrote over and over again as if in an agony of fear. And he implored Flavia to set him at liberty before the Emperor returned.

Meanwhile the news came that the war was over, and the Emperor sent word that he would soon be on his way home. Flavia's heart was filled with happiness, and in her joy she could not bear to think that the Emperor should learn at once the story of his brother's treachery, so she sent word that the prince was to be released.

At last the happy day came when the Emperor entered the city at the head of his victorious army. There were great rejoicings throughout Rome, but happiest of all was the Empress Flavia.

There was one face, however, that was sad and downcast. The Emperor's brother went about with his melancholy eyes fixed on the ground as if he were too miserable to look up. The Emperor looked at him keenly several times and at last took him aside.

Why dost thou look so sorrowful? he asked; tell me what has come to thee?

The prince shook his head and sighed. Ah, there is sorrow enough, he said, but I cannot tell thee what it is.

I command thee to tell me at once, said the Emperor.

I dare not, said the prince. Alas, it is a tale of treachery aimed against thy own life.

That is but what an emperor must expect, said his brother calmly. Come, tell me the plot and the names of the plotters.

The prince made great pretence of being most unwilling, but at last, when the Emperor began to lose patience, he spoke out.

How can I tell thee, he said, when the one who plotted against thy life was thine own wife, Flavia?

The Emperor sprang to his feet and seized his brother's arm.

Take care what thou sayest, he said; such a thing cannot be.

Then the prince began his tale saying that he had discovered the plot and begged Flavia to stop before it was too late. But as soon as the Empress knew that her crime was discovered by him, she sent immediately for the guard and ordered him to be arrested and shut up in a lonely prison, refusing to tell any one of what crime she accused him.

There, in that solitary prison, I have lain sick and sorrowful until yesterday when the Empress ordered me to be released, doubtless fearing your anger, ended the wily prince.

Even then the Emperor could not believe it, until the prince showed him some letters, really written by himself, but copied from Flavia's handwriting, in which all the treachery was told.

Then the Emperor called the officer of the guard and demanded why it was that the prince had been imprisoned.

Your Highness, said the officer, it was by order of the Empress, but for what crime he was punished we do not know.

When the Emperor heard that, he flew into one of his dreadful rages and declared that Flavia should be put to death.

The prince pretended to plead for her, but that only made the Emperor more furious. He sent immediately for two of his most trusted officers and bade them go at once to the Empress's apartments and conduct her to a villa some distance from Rome. The way led through a lonely wood, and when they reached the wood the officers were instructed to put the Empress to death, but to pretend that she had died of an illness, so that no one might know of her dreadful crime.

And as a token that ye have done your duty, added the Emperor, bring me the ring and gold chain which the Empress wears, that I may know that the deed has been accomplished.

Flavia could not understand why she should undertake this hurried journey, but the officers told her it was the Emperor's will, and that he would join her later. So she set out with them, feeling somewhat perplexed and unhappy.

They journeyed on for some time until they came to the edge of a dark wood, and there the officers requested the Empress to alight from her horse, as there was only a narrow footpath through the woods. The servants would take the horses round by a longer road, they said.

This also seemed strange to Flavia, for she was not accustomed to walking on rough roads, but she dismounted and went on with the two officers.

As the wood grew darker and darker, and the path so narrow that it was difficult to push a way through the briars, the men began to look at one another.

Wilt thou tell her? said one.

No, I cannot, said the other; indeed I have no liking for this business. The Emperor is often hasty in his judgment, when those terrible rages seize him.

Still, it must be done, said the first, and turning to Flavia he told her that she had been brought here to be executed, since the Emperor had discovered her treachery and how she had plotted against his life.

Flavia turned pale, but she held her head high and fearlessly.

I am innocent, was all she said.

I verily believe she is, said one of the officers. I would that we might spare her.

If we spare her, the Emperor will not spare us, said the other. It is her life or ours. Remember how we are to take back her ring and her golden chain as a token that we have obeyed his commands.

As soon as Flavia heard these words she quickly slipped off her ring and unwound the chain from her neck and thrust them into the guard's hand. Then, quick as thought, she turned and ran through the trees.

It was drawing towards evening and the light in the wood was very dim as the trees grew thickly together. The men started to overtake Flavia, but the foremost officer, catching his foot in the root of a tree, fell heavily to the ground, while his companion, just behind him, fell headlong over him. When they picked themselves up Flavia had disappeared, and though they searched the wood all night they could discover no trace of her.

When morning dawned the men consulted together and made up their minds to return to Rome and carry the ring and the chain to the Emperor, and allow him to think that Flavia was dead.

By this time the Emperor's rage had spent itself, and although he was still sure that Flavia was guilty, he began to wish he had not been so hasty.

She is little more than a child, he said to his brother sorrowfully. It would have been better if I had shut her up in some convent where she might have had time to repent.

So when the officers returned and silently offered him the well-known ring and golden chain, he asked no questions, but made a gesture for them to take the things away, for he would not touch them.

After that the Emperor lived but a sad, lonely life, and the name of Flavia never passed his lips. Only once, when a crowd of poor people came to the palace door and he heard them lamenting that their little mother, as they called Flavia, was gone, he gave orders that whatever charity the Empress had given should be continued in her name.

Now when poor Flavia had escaped from the two officers, she wandered about the wood all night and in the early morning found her way out on to the high-road once more.

Weary and footsore, her clothes torn by the brambles and her hands scratched and bleeding, she looked no longer like an empress but rather like a poor wayfarer. There she sat by the roadside and wondered what she should do next. She knew that the road in one direction must lead to Rome, and she did not know which way to take. Just then, in the dim morning light, she saw a company of people and horses coming along. Some of the horses were laden with merchandise, and at the head of the company rode an old man who appeared to be the chief merchant.

He had a kind, gentle-looking face, and Flavia, feeling desperate, went out into the road as he was passing and held out her hands to him as if to implore a favour.

The old man stopped his horse at once, but bade his servants go on. He saw that this was no common beggar, but some one of gentle birth.

What can I do for thee? he asked kindly.

Wilt thou tell me whither this road leads? she asked

That way to Rome, he said, pointing behind him, and this way in front to Ostia where I am going.

Oh, wilt thou help me? said Flavia, clasping her hands. I am alone and unprotected, and I, too, would go to Ostia. Wilt thou take me under thy protection?

The old man thought for a moment.

What is thy name, and how camest thou here alone? he asked.

Flavia looked into his kind eyes and felt she could trust him.

I cannot tell thee who I am, she said, but the reason I am here alone is that I was condemned to death and have just escaped.

Lift up thy veil and let me see thy face, said the old man.

Flavia lifted her veil as he bade her, and the merchant looked at her with a long, searching gaze.

Thou mayest come, he said at last; I see nothing but good in that face.

So he called to one of the men to bring a horse and lift the maiden upon it, and they journeyed on together to Ostia.

I will take thee home to my wife for one night, said the merchant thoughtfully as they neared the town, and to-morrow I will see thee safe in a convent where the Emperor himself could not touch thee.

Flavia thanked him gratefully, and also thanked God in her heart that she had fallen into such kind hands.

But if the merchant was kind-hearted his wife was even kinder. She looked keenly at Flavia and listened to the tale which her husband had to tell, and when he talked of the convent she shook her head.

Why not let her stay here with us? she said. I have never seen a sweeter or a purer face, and it is useless to tell me she has committed a crime worthy of death. Why, she is but a child, just the age our little daughter would have been now had she lived to grow up.

The thought of the little daughter who had died made the merchant feel very pitiful towards Flavia, but still he hesitated.

Art thou sure it is wise to take a stranger into our house of whom we know nothing but that she is accused of a great crime? he asked.

You know our Emperor, answered his wife; when he is seized with one of his sudden rages he is seldom just, and I feel sure this maiden is innocent. Let her stay with us, and she shall help me to look after the child.

For the merchant and his wife had one little child, a son of their old age, whom they loved very dearly.

So it was settled that the maiden should stay, and for a while all went well. Poor Flavia began to hold up her head again and to feel as if there was still some peace for her in the world, sheltered as she was in that kind home. But the peace did not last long.

The merchant had a younger brother who lived in the house, and this young man, seeing Flavia's beauty, began to wish to make her his wife. Flavia told him at once that he must not think of such a thing, that she was but a servant in the house, and not fit to marry her master's brother. But when he continued to trouble her she saw that she must tell the truth.

Why wilt thou not marry me? he asked.

For the best reason of all, she answered at last gravely. I am already married.

At first the young man would not believe this, but afterwards he said even that did not matter, for her husband was as good as dead.

Then Flavia turned from him in great anger, and he in his turn waxed furious and warned her that she would soon repent of the way she had scorned him.

Do as I wish or a terrible misfortune will overtake thee, he said.

The good God holds the future in His hands, answered Flavia, and He will protect me.

After this it seemed as if the young man's thoughts grew blacker and more evil every day. Very soon he began to arrange a dreadful plan to punish Flavia, and ended one day by killing the poor little boy and then pretending that it was Flavia who had done the cruel deed.

Poor Flavia! at first she could not understand why they thought it possible for her to commit such a crime, for she loved the child dearly. But when the guards arrived to carry her off to prison and she asked them who had accused her and they told her it was her master's brother, then she understood it all.