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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/4306-h.zip b/4306-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..592b059 --- /dev/null +++ b/4306-h.zip diff --git a/4306-h/4306-h.htm b/4306-h/4306-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..95ccbd1 --- /dev/null +++ b/4306-h/4306-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,17949 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<HTML> +<HEAD> + +<META HTTP-EQUIV="Content-Type" CONTENT="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1"> + +<TITLE> +The Project Gutenberg E-text of Veranilda, by George Gissing +</TITLE> + +<STYLE TYPE="text/css"> +BODY { color: Black; + background: White; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; + text-align: justify } + +P {text-indent: 4% } + +P.noindent {text-indent: 0% } + +P.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-size: small } + +P.letter {text-indent: 0%; + font-size: small ; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +P.finis { font-size: larger ; + text-align: center ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +</STYLE> + +</HEAD> + +<BODY> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Veranilda, by George Gissing + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Veranilda + +Author: George Gissing + +Posting Date: July 12, 2009 [EBook #4306] +Release Date: August, 2003 +First Posted: January 3, 2002 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VERANILDA *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Aldarondo. HTML version by Al Haines. + + + + + +</pre> + + +<BR><BR> + +<H1 ALIGN="center"> +Veranilda +</H1> + +<BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +By +</H3> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +George Gissing +</H2> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +CONTENTS +</H2> + +<TABLE ALIGN="center" WIDTH="80%"> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">I </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap01">THE VANQUISHED ROMAN</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">II </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap02">BASIL'S VISION</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">III </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap03">THE DEACON LEANDER</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">IV </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap04">TO CUMAE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">V </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap05">BASIL AND VERANILDA</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VI </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap06">THE EMPEROR'S COMMAND</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VII </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap07">HERESY</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VIII </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap08">THE SNARE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">IX </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap09">CHORSOMAN</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">X </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap10">THE ANICIANS</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XI </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap11">SEEKING</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XII </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap12">HELIODORA</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIII </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap13">THE SOUL OF ROME</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIV </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap14">SILVIA'S DREAM</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XV </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap15">YOUNG ROME</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVI </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap16">WHISPERS</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVII </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap17">LEANDER THE POLITIC</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVIII </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap18">PELAGIUS</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIX </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap19">THE PRISONER OF PRAENESTE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XX </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap20">THE ISLAND IN THE LIRIS</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXI </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap21">THE BETRAYER BETRAYED</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXII </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap22">DOOM</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXIII </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap23">THE RED HAND</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXIV </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap24">THE MOUNT OF THE MONK</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXV </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap25">THE ABBOT'S TOWER</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXVI </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap26">VIVAS IN DEO</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXVII </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap27">THE KING OF THE GOTHS</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXVIII </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap28">AT HADRIAN'S VILLA</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXIX </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap29">ROME BELEAGUERED</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXX </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap30">* * * *</A></TD> +</TR> + +</TABLE> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap01"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER I +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE VANQUISHED ROMAN +</H3> + +<P> +Seven years long had the armies of Justinian warred against the Goths +in Italy. Victor from Rhegium to Ravenna, the great commander +Belisarius had returned to the East, Carrying captive a Gothic king. +The cities of the conquered land were garrisoned by barbarians of many +tongues, who bore the name of Roman soldiers; the Italian people, +brought low by slaughter, dearth, and plague, crouched under the +rapacious tyranny of governors from Byzantium. +</P> + +<P> +Though children born when King Theodoric still reigned had yet scarce +grown to manhood, that golden age seemed already a legend of the past. +Athalaric, Amalasuntha, Theodahad, last of the Amal blood, had held the +throne in brief succession and were gone; warriors chosen at will by +the Gothic host, mere kings of the battlefield, had risen and perished; +reduced to a wandering tribe, the nation which alone of her invaders +had given peace and hope to Italy, which alone had reverenced and +upheld the laws, polity, culture of Rome, would soon, it was thought, +be utterly destroyed, or vanish in flight beyond the Alps. Yet war did +not come to an end. In the plain of the great river there was once more +a chieftain whom the Goths had raised upon their shields, a king, men +said, glorious in youth and strength, and able, even yet, to worst the +Emperor's generals. His fame increased. Ere long he was known to be +moving southward, to have crossed the Apennines, to have won a battle +in Etruria. The name of this young hero was Totila. +</P> + +<P> +In these days the senators of Rome, heirs to a title whose ancient +power and dignity were half-forgotten, abode within the City, under +constraint disguised as honour, the conqueror's hostages. One among +them, of noblest name, Flavius Anicius Maximus, broken in health by the +troubles of the time and by private sorrow, languishing all but unto +death in the heavy air of the Tiber, was permitted to seek relief in a +visit to which he would of his domains in Italy. His birth, his repute, +gave warrant of loyalty to the empire, and his coffers furnished the +price put upon such a favour by Byzantine greed. Maximus chose for +refuge his villa by the Campanian shore, vast, beautiful, half in ruin, +which had been enjoyed by generations of the Anician family; situated +above the little town of Surrentum it caught the cooler breeze, and on +its mountainous promontory lay apart from the tramp of armies. Here, as +summer burned into autumn, the sick man lived in brooding silence, +feeling his strength waste, and holding to the world only by one desire. +</P> + +<P> +The household comprised his unwedded sister Petronilla, a lady in +middle age, his nephew Basil, and another kinsman, Decius, a student +and an invalid; together with a physician, certain freedmen who +rendered services of trust, a eunuch at the Command of Petronilla, and +the usual body of male and female slaves. Some score of glebe-bound +peasants cultivated the large estate for their lord's behoof. +Notwithstanding the distress that had fallen upon the Roman nobility, +many of whom were sunk into indigence, the chief of the Anicii still +controlled large means; and the disposal of these possessions at his +death was matter of interest to many persons—not least to the clergy +of Rome, who found in the dying man's sister a piously tenacious +advocate. Children had been born to Maximus, but the only son who +reached mature years fell a victim to pestilence when Vitiges was +camped about the City. There survived one daughter, Aurelia. Her the +father had not seen for years; her he longed to see and to pardon ere +he died. For Aurelia, widowed of her first husband in early youth, had +used her liberty to love and wed a flaxen-haired barbarian, a lord of +the Goths; and, worse still, had renounced the Catholic faith for the +religion of the Gothic people, that heresy of Arianism condemned and +abhorred by Rome. In Consequence she became an outcast from her kith +and kin. Her husband commanded in the city of Cumae, hard by Neapolis. +When this stronghold fell before the advance of Belisarius, the Goth +escaped, soon after to die in battle; Aurelia, a captive of the +Conquerors, remained at Cumae, and still was living there, though no +longer under restraint. Because of its strength, this ancient city +became the retreat of many ladies who fled from Rome before the +hardships and perils of the siege; from them the proud and unhappy +woman, ever held apart, yet she refused to quit the town when she would +have been permitted to do so. From his terrace above the Surrentine +shore, Maximus gazed across the broad gulf to the hills that concealed +Cumae, yearning for the last of his children. When at length he wrote +her a letter, a letter of sad kindness, inviting rather than beseeching +her to visit him, Aurelia made no reply. Wounded, he sunk again into +silence, until his heart could no longer bear its secret burden, and he +spoke—not to Petronilla, from whose austere orthodoxy little sympathy +was to be expected—but to his nephew Basil, whose generous mettle +willingly lent itself to such a service as was proposed. On his +delicate mission, the young man set forth without delay. To Cumae, +whether by sea or land, was but a short journey: starting at daybreak, +Basil might have given ample time to his embassy, and have been back +again early on the morrow. But the second day passed, and he did not +return. Though harassed by the delay, Maximus tried to deem it of good +omen, and nursed his hope through another sleepless night. +</P> + +<P> +Soon after sunrise, he was carried forth to his place of observation, a +portico in semicircle, the marble honey-toned by time, which afforded +shelter from the eastern rays and commanded a view of vast extent. +Below him lay the little town, built on the cliffs above its +landing-place; the hillsides on either hand were clad with vineyards, +splendid in the purple of autumn, and with olives. Sky and sea shone to +each other in perfect calm; the softly breathing air mingled its +morning freshness with a scent of fallen flower and leaf. A rosy vapour +from Vesuvius floated gently inland; and this the eye of Maximus marked +with contentment, as it signified a favourable wind for a boat crossing +hither from the far side of the bay. For the loveliness of the scene +before him, its noble lines, its jewelled colouring, he had little +care; but the infinite sadness of its suggestion, the decay and the +desolation uttered by all he saw, sank deep into his heart. If his look +turned to the gleaming spot which was the city of Neapolis, there came +into his mind the sack and massacre of a few years ago, when Belisarius +so terribly avenged upon the Neapolitans their stubborn resistance to +his siege. Faithful to the traditions of his house, of his order, +Maximus had welcomed the invasion which promised to restore Italy to +the Empire; now that the restoration was effected, he saw with +bitterness the evils resulting from it, and all but hoped that this new +king of the Goths, this fortune-favoured Totila, might sweep the land +of its Greek oppressors. He looked back upon his own life, on the +placid dignity of his career under the rule of Theodoric, the offices +by which he had risen, until he sat in the chair of the Consul. Yet in +that time, which now seemed so full of peaceful glories, he had never +at heart been loyal to the great king; in his view, as in that of the +nobles generally, Theodoric was but a usurper, who had abused the +mandate intrusted to him by the Emperor Zeno, to deliver Italy from the +barbarians. When his own kinsmen, Boethius and Symmachus, were put to +death on a charge of treachery, Maximus burned with hatred of the Goth. +He regarded with disdain the principles of Cassiodorus, who devoted his +life to the Gothic cause, and who held that only as an independent +kingdom could there be hope for Italy. Having for a moment the ear of +Theodoric's daughter, Amalasuntha, when she ruled for her son, Maximus +urged her to yield her kingdom to the Emperor, and all but saw his +counsel acted upon. After all, was not Cassiodorus right? Were not the +senators who had ceaselessly intrigued with Byzantium in truth traitors +to Rome? It was a bitter thought for the dying man that all his life he +had not only failed in service to his country, but had obstinately +wrought for her ruin. +</P> + +<P> +Attendants placed food beside him. He mingled wine with water and +soothed a feverish thirst. His physician, an elderly man of Oriental +visage, moved respectfully to his side, greeted him as Illustrious, +inquired how his Magnificence had passed the latter part of the night. +Whilst replying, as ever courteously—for in the look and bearing of +Maximus there was that <I>senatorius decor</I> which Pliny noted in a great +Roman of another time—his straining eyes seemed to descry a sail in +the quarter he continually watched. Was it only a fishing boat? Raised +upon the couch, he gazed long and fixedly. Impossible as yet to be sure +whether he saw the expected bark; but the sail seemed to draw nearer, +and he watched. +</P> + +<P> +The voice of a servant, who stood at a respectful distance, announced: +'The gracious Lady'; and there appeared a little procession. Ushered by +her eunuch, and attended by half a dozen maidens, one of whom held over +her a silk sunshade with a handle of gold, the sister of Maximus +approached at a stately pace. She was tall, and of features severely +regular; her dark hair—richer in tone and more abundant than her years +could warrant—rose in elaborate braiding intermingled with golden +threads; her waistless robe was of white silk adorned with narrow +stripes of purple, which descended, two on each side, from the +shoulders to the hem, and about her neck lay a shawl of delicate +tissue. In her hand, which glistened with many gems, she carried a +small volume, richly bound, the Psalter. Courtesies of the gravest +passed between her and Maximus, who, though he could not rise from his +couch, assumed an attitude of graceful deference, and Petronilla seated +herself in a chair which a slave had placed for her. After many +inquiries as to her brother's health, the lady allowed her eyes to +wander for a moment, then spoke with the smile of one who imparts rare +tidings. +</P> + +<P> +'Late last night—too late to trouble you with the news—there came a +post from the reverend deacon Leander. He disembarked yesterday at +Salernum, and, after brief repose, hopes to visit us. Your Amiability +will, I am sure, welcome his coming.' +</P> + +<P> +'Assuredly,' answered Maximus, bending his head, whilst his eyes +watched the distant sail. 'Whence comes he?' +</P> + +<P> +'From Sicily. We shall learn, I dare say, the business which took him +there,' added Petronilla, with a self-satisfied softening of her lips. +'The deacon is wont to talk freely with me of whatever concerns the +interests of our holy Church, even as I think you remember, has now and +then deigned—though I know not how I have deserved such honour—to +ask, I dare not say my counsel, but my humble thoughts on this or that. +I think we may expect him before morning. The day will not be too warm +for travel.' +</P> + +<P> +Maximus wore an anxious look, and spoke after hesitation. +</P> + +<P> +'Will his reverend leisure permit him to pass more than one day with +us?' +</P> + +<P> +'Earnestly I hope so. You, beyond doubt, dear lord, my brother, will +desire long privacy with the holy man. His coming at this time is +plainly of Heaven's direction.' +</P> + +<P> +'Lady sister,' answered Maximus, with the faintest smile on his sad +features, 'I would not willingly rob you of a moment's conference with +the good deacon. My own business with him is soon despatched. I would +fain be assured of burial in the Temple of Probus where sleep our +ancestors.' +</P> + +<P> +'Of that,' replied Petronilla, solemnly and not unkindly, 'doubt not +for a moment. Your body shall lie there, by the blessed Peter's +sanctuary, and your tomb be honoured among those of the greatest of our +blood. But there is another honour that I covet for you, an honour +above all that the world can bestow. In these sad times, Maximus, the +Church has need of strengthening. You have no children—' +</P> + +<P> +A glance from the listener checked her, and, before she could resume, +Maximus interposed in a low voice: +</P> + +<P> +'I have yet a daughter.' +</P> + +<P> +'A daughter?' exclaimed Petronilla, troubled, confused, scarce subduing +indignation. +</P> + +<P> +'It is better I should tell you,' continued her brother, with some +sternness, resulting from the efforts to command himself, 'that Basil +is gone to Cumae to see Aurelia, and, if it may be, to lead her to me. +Perhaps even now'—he pointed to the sea—'they are on the way hither. +Let us not speak of it, Petronilla,' he added in a firmer tone. 'It is +my will; that must suffice. Of you I ask nothing save silence.' +</P> + +<P> +The lady arose. Her countenance expressed angry and bitter feeling, but +there was no danger of her uttering what she thought. Gravely, somewhat +coldly, she spoke good wishes for her brother's ease during the day, +and so retired with her retinue. Alone, Maximus sighed, and looked +again across the waters. +</P> + +<P> +In a few minutes the servant who guarded his privacy was again heard +announcing the lord Decius. The Senator turned his eyes with a look of +good-humoured greeting. +</P> + +<P> +'Abroad so early, good cousin? Did the oil fail you last night and send +you too soon to bed?' +</P> + +<P> +'You have not chanced to remember, dear my lord, what day it is?' +returned Decius, when he had bestowed a kiss on his kinsman's cheek. +'Had I but vigour enough, this morning would have seen me on a +pilgrimage to the tomb.' He put out a hand towards Neapolis. 'I rose at +daybreak to meditate the Fourth Eclogue.' +</P> + +<P> +'The ides of October—true. I take shame to myself for having lost the +memory of Virgil in my own distresses.' +</P> + +<P> +Decius, whose years were scarce thirty, had the aspect and the gait of +an elderly man; his thin hair streaked with grey, his cheeks hollow, +his eyes heavy, he stooped in walking and breathed with difficulty; the +tunic and the light cloak, which were all his attire, manifested an +infinite carelessness in matters of costume, being worn and soiled. +Than he, no Roman was poorer; he owned nothing but his clothing and a +few books. Akin to the greatest, and bearing a name of which he was +inordinately proud—as a schoolboy he had once burst into tears when +reciting with passion the Lay of the Decii—felt content to owe his +sustenance to the delicate and respectful kindness of Maximus, who +sympathised with the great wrong he had suffered early in life. This +was no less than wilful impoverishment by his father, who, seeking to +atone for sins by fanaticism, had sold the little he possessed to found +a pilgrims' hospice at Portus, whither, accompanied by the +twelve-year-old boy, he went to live as monk-servitor In a year or two +the penitent died; Decius, in revolt against the tasks to which he was +subjected, managed to escape, made his way to Rome, and appealed to +Maximus. Nominally he still held the post of secretary to his +benefactor, but for many years he had enjoyed entire leisure, all of it +devoted to study. Several times illness had brought him to the +threshold of death, yet it had never conquered his love of letters, his +enthusiasm for his country's past. Few liked him only one or two +understood him: Decius was content that it should be so. +</P> + +<P> +'Let us speak of it,' he continued, unrolling a manuscript of Virgil +some two hundred years old, a gift to him from Maximus. 'Tell me, dear +lord, your true thought: is it indeed a prophecy of the Divine Birth? +To you'—he smiled his gentle, beautiful smile—'may I not confess that +I have doubted this interpretation? Yet'—he cast his eyes down—'the +doubt is perhaps a prompting of the spirit of evil.' +</P> + +<P> +'I know not, Decius, I know not,' replied the sick man with thoughtful +melancholy. 'My father held it a prophecy his father before him.—But +forgive me, I am expecting anxiously the return of Basil; yonder +sail—is it his? Your eyes see further than mine.' +</P> + +<P> +Decius at once put aside his own reflections, and watched the oncoming +bark. Before long there was an end of doubt. Rising in agitation to his +feet, Maximus gave orders that the litter, which since yesterday +morning had been in readiness, should at once be borne with all speed +down to the landing-place. Sail and oars soon brought the boat so near +that Decius was able to descry certain female figures and that of a +man, doubtless Basil, who stood up and waved his arms shoreward. +</P> + +<P> +'She has come,' broke from Maximus; and, in reply to his kinsman's face +of inquiry, he told of whom it was he spoke. +</P> + +<P> +The landing-place was not visible from here. As soon as the boat +disappeared beneath the buildings of the town, Maximus requested of his +companion a service which asked some courage in the performance: it +was, to wait forthwith upon the Lady Petronilla, to inform her that +Aurelia had just disembarked, to require that three female slaves +should be selected to attend upon the visitor. This mission Decius +discharged, not without trembling; he then walked to the main entrance +of the villa, and stood there, the roll of Virgil still in his hand, +until the sound of a horse's hoofs on the upward road announced the +arrival of the travellers. The horseman, who came some yards in advance +of the slave-borne litter, was Basil. At sight of Decius, he +dismounted, and asked in an undertone: 'You know?' The other replied +with the instructions given by Maximus, that the litter, which was +closed against curious eyes, should be straightway conveyed to the +Senator's presence, Basil himself to hold apart until summoned. +</P> + +<P> +And so it was done. Having deposited their burden between two columns +of the portico, the bearers withdrew. The father's voice uttered the +name of Aurelia, and, putting aside the curtains that had concealed +her, she stood before him. A woman still young, and of bearing which +became her birth; a woman who would have had much grace, much charm, +but for the passion which, turned to vehement self-will, had made her +blood acrid. Her great dark eyes burned with quenchless resentment; her +sunken and pallid face told of the sufferings of a tortured pride. +</P> + +<P> +'Lord Maximus,' were her first words, as she stood holding by the +litter, glancing distrustfully about her, 'you have sworn!' +</P> + +<P> +'Hear me repeat my oath,' answered the father, strengthened by his +emotion to move forward from the couch. 'By the blessed martyr +Pancratius, I swear that no harm shall befall you, no constraint shall +be put upon you, that you shall be free to come and to go as you will.' +</P> + +<P> +It was the oath no perjurer durst make. Aurelia gazed into her father's +face, which was wet with tears. She stepped nearer to him, took his +thin, hot hand, and, as in her childhood, bent to kiss the back of the +wrist. But Maximus folded her to his heart. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap02"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER II +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +BASIL'S VISION +</H3> + +<P> +Basil and Decius paced together a garden alley, between a row of +quince-trees and a hedge of Christ's-thorn; at one end was a fountain +in a great basin of porphyry, at the other a little temple, very old +and built for the worship of Isis, now an oratory under the invocation +of the Blessed Mary. The two young men made a singular contrast, for +Basil, who was in his twenty-third year, had all the traits of health +and vigour: a straight back, lithe limbs, a face looking level on the +world, a lustrous eye often touched to ardour, a cheek of the purest +carnation, a mouth that told of fine instincts, delicate sensibilities, +love of laughter. No less did his costume differ from the student's +huddled garb; his tunic was finely embroidered in many hues, his silken +cloak had a great buckle of gold on the shoulder; he wore ornate shoes, +and by his waist hung a silver-handled dagger in a sheath of chased +bronze. He stepped lightly, as one who asks but the occasion to run and +leap. In their intimate talk, he threw an arm over his companion's +neck, a movement graceful as it was affectionate; his voice had a note +frank and cordial. +</P> + +<P> +Yet Basil was not quite his familiar self to-day; he talked with less +than his natural gaiety, wore a musing look, fell into silences. Now +that Aurelia had come, there was no motive for reserve on that subject +with Decius, and indeed they conversed of their kinswoman with perfect +openness, pitying rather than condemning her, and wondering what would +result from her presence under one roof with the rigid Petronilla. Not +on Aurelia's account did Basil droop his head now and then, look about +him vacantly, bite his lip, answer a question at hazard, play nervously +with his dagger's hilt. All at once, with an abruptness which moved his +companion's surprise, he made an inquiry, seemingly little relevant to +their topic. +</P> + +<P> +'Heard you ever of a Gothic princess—a lady of the lineage of +Theodoric—still living in Italy?' +</P> + +<P> +'Never,' responded Decius, with a puzzled smile. 'Is there such a one?' +</P> + +<P> +'I am told so—I heard it by chance. Yet I know not who she can be. Did +not the direct line of Theodoric end with Athalaric and his sister +Matasuntha, who is now at the Emperor's court?' +</P> + +<P> +'So I believed,' said Decius, 'though I have thought but little of the +matter.' +</P> + +<P> +'I too, trust me,' let fall Basil, with careful carelessness; no actor +he. 'And the vile Theodahad—what descendants did he leave?' +</P> + +<P> +'He was a scholar,' said the other musingly, 'deep read in Plato.' +</P> + +<P> +'None the less a glutton and a murderer and a coward, who did well to +give his throat to the butcher as he ran away from his enemies. +Children he had, I think—but—' +</P> + +<P> +Basil broke off on a wandering thought. He stood still, knitted his +brows, and sniffed the air. At this moment there appeared in the alley +a serving man, a young and active fellow of very honest visage, who +stood at some yards' distance until Basil observed him. +</P> + +<P> +'What is it, Felix?' inquired his master. +</P> + +<P> +The attendant stepped forward, and made known that the lord Marcian had +even now ridden up to the villa, with two followers, and desired to +wait upon Basil. This news brought a joyful light to the eyes of the +young noble; he hastened to welcome his friend, the dearest he had. +Marcian, a year or two his elder, was less favoured by nature in face +and form: tall and vigorous enough of carriage, he showed more bone and +sinew than flesh; and his face might have been that of a man worn by +much fasting, so deep sunk were the eyes, so jutting the cheek-bones, +and so sharp the chin; its cast, too, was that of a fixed and native +melancholy. But when he smiled, these features became much more +pleasing, and revealed a kindliness of temper such as might win the +love of one who knew him well. His dress was plain, and the dust of +Campanian roads lay somewhat thick upon him. +</P> + +<P> +'By Bacchus!' cried his friend, as they embraced each other, 'fortune +is good to me to-day. Could I have had but one wish granted, it would +have been to see Marcian. I thought you still in Rome. What makes you +travel? Not in these days solely to visit a friend, I warrant. By Peter +and Paul and as many more saints as you can remember, I am glad to hold +your hand! What news do you bring?' +</P> + +<P> +'Little enough,' answered Marcian, with a shrug of the shoulders. The +natural tune of his voice harmonised with his visage, and he spoke as +one who feels a scornful impatience with the affairs of men. 'At Rome, +they wrangle about goats' wool, as is their wont. Anything else? Why, +yes; the freedman Chrysanthus glories in an ex-consulate. It cost him +the trifle of thirty pounds of gold.' +</P> + +<P> +Basil laughed contemptuously, half angrily. +</P> + +<P> +'We must look to our honours,' he exclaimed. 'If Chrysanthus be +ex-consul, can you and I be satisfied with less than +ex-Praetorian-Prefect? What will be the price, think you? Has Bessas +hung out a tariff yet in the Forum?' +</P> + +<P> +'He knows better than to fix a maximum, as long as a wealthy fool +remains in the city—though that won't be much longer, I take it.' +</P> + +<P> +'Why come you hither, dear my lord?' urged Basil, with more seriousness. +</P> + +<P> +Regarding him with a grave eye, his friend replied in an undertone: +</P> + +<P> +'To spy upon you.' +</P> + +<P> +'Ha!—In very truth?' +</P> + +<P> +'You could wish me a more honourable office,' Marcian went on, smiling +sadly. 'Yet, if you think of it, in these days, it is some honour to be +a traitor to both sides. There has been talk of you in Rome. Nay, who +knows how or why! They have nothing to do but talk, and these victories +of the Goth have set up such a Greek cackle as was never heard since +Helen ran away to Troy,—and, talking of Greek, I bear a letter for you +from Heliodora.' +</P> + +<P> +Basil, who had been listening gravely, started at this name and uttered +an idle laugh. From a wallet hanging at his girdle, Marcian drew forth +the missive. +</P> + +<P> +'That may wait,' said Basil, glancing indifferently at the folded and +sealed paper before he hid it away. 'Having said so much, you must tell +me more. Put off that sardonic mask—I know very well what hides +beneath it—and look me in the eye. You have surprised some danger?' +</P> + +<P> +'I heard you spoken of—by one who seldom opens his lips but to ill +purpose. It was not difficult for me to wade through the shallows of +the man's mind, and for my friend's sake to win his base confidence. +Needing a spy, and being himself a born traitor, he readily believed me +at his beck; in truth he had long marked me, so I found, for a cankered +soul who waited but the occasion to advance by infamy. I held the +creature in my hand; I turned him over and over, and he, the while, +thinking me his greedy slave. And so, usurping the place of some other +who would have ambushed you in real enmity, I came hither on his +errand.' +</P> + +<P> +'Marcian,' said the listener, 'I could make a guess at that man's name.' +</P> + +<P> +'Nay, I doubt if you could, and indeed it matters nothing. Enough that +I may do you some little service.' +</P> + +<P> +'For which,' replied Basil, 'I cannot pay you, since all my love is +already yours. And she—Heliodora,' he added, with a careless gesture, +'knows of your mission?' +</P> + +<P> +'Of my mission, no; but of my proposed journey. Though indeed she may +know more than I suppose. Who shall say what reaches the ear of +Heliodora—?' +</P> + +<P> +'You have not heard perhaps that her husband is dead?' +</P> + +<P> +'The Prefect dead?' exclaimed Basil. +</P> + +<P> +'Three weeks ago.—Rather suddenly—after supper. An indigestion, no +doubt.' +</P> + +<P> +Marcian spoke with peculiar dryness, averting his eyes from the +listener. Upon Basil's face came a deep flush; he took out the folded +paper again, and held it at arm's length. +</P> + +<P> +'You mean—? You think—?' he stammered. +</P> + +<P> +'About women I think not at all,' said the other, 'as you well know. +There is talk, talk—what care I?' +</P> + +<P> +Basil tore the letter open. It contained a lock of raven-black hair, +tied with gold thread, and on the paper was written, in Greek, 'I am +free.' Again his cheek flushed; he crushed paper and hair together in +his hand. +</P> + +<P> +'Let us never again speak of her,' he exclaimed, moving away from the +spot. 'Before I left Rome, I told you that I would gladly see her no +more, and you smiled dubiously. Believe me now. I abhor the thought of +her. If she ask you for my reply, repeat those words.' +</P> + +<P> +'Nay, dear my lord, in that I will beg to be excused,' replied Marcian +with his melancholy smile. +</P> + +<P> +They were walking silently, side by side, when the servant Felix again +presented himself before them. Maximus, having heard of the arrival of +Marcian from Rome, requested that he and Basil would grant him a moment +of their leisure. At once the young men turned to obey this summons. On +the way, Basil communicated to his friend in a whisper the event of the +day. A couple of hours having passed since Aurelia's coming, the +Senator had in some degree recovered from his agitation; he lay now in +a room which opened upon the central court of the villa, a room adorned +with rich marbles and with wall-paintings which were fading under the +hand of time. Deathly pale, scarce able to raise his head from the +cushion of the couch, he none the less showed a countenance bright with +joyous emotion. His quivering voice strove to welcome the visitor +cheerily. +</P> + +<P> +'What news from the city, dear lord Marcian? How are all our friends? +Do they begin to forget us?' +</P> + +<P> +'Not so, Illustrious,' answered the young man, with head bent. 'You are +much desired in the Senate, where grave counsel is just now greatly in +demand.' +</P> + +<P> +'The Senate, the Senate,' murmured Maximus, as if reminded of something +he had long forgotten. 'They must needs lack my voice, I fear. What do +men say of the Gothic king?' +</P> + +<P> +Marcian threw a glance at Basil, then towards the curtained portals of +the room; lastly, his eyes turned upon the sick man, whom he regarded +steadily. +</P> + +<P> +'They say much—or little,' fell from his lips. +</P> + +<P> +'I understand you,' replied the Senator, with a friendly movement of +the head. 'Here we may speak freely. Does Totila draw near to Rome?' +</P> + +<P> +'He is still in Tuscany, and rumours come from his army that he will +pass into Samnium. All the strongholds of Umbria are his; all the +conquests of Belisarius from Ariminum to Spoletium.' +</P> + +<P> +'Where are the Roman captains?' +</P> + +<P> +'Each in his city of the far north, holding the plunder he has got, and +looking for the chance of more. In Rome—' +</P> + +<P> +Marcian paused significantly, and the Senator took up his words. +</P> + +<P> +'In Rome rules Bessas.' +</P> + +<P> +'The Thracian,' remarked Basil bitterly. +</P> + +<P> +'And in Ravenna,' added the sick man, 'Alexandros—the coin-clipper.' +</P> + +<P> +The eyes of Basil and of Marcian encountered. Between them came no +shadow of distrust, the smile they exchanged told of loyal affection. +</P> + +<P> +'This Totila,' pursued Marcian, 'seems to be not only a brave and +capable commander, but a shrewd politician. Everywhere he spares the +people; he takes nothing by force; his soldiers buy at market; he +protects the farmer against the taxing Greek. As a result, his army +grows; where he passes, he leaves a good report, and before him goes a +welcome. At this rate he will soon make all Italy his own. And unless +the Patricius returns—' +</P> + +<P> +By this title men were wont to speak of Belisarius. Hearing it, Basil +threw up an arm, his eyes flashing. +</P> + +<P> +'The Patricius!' he exclaimed fervently. 'There is the man who might +have saved us!' +</P> + +<P> +'By the holy Laurentius!' murmured Maximus, looking sadly at his +nephew, 'I have all but come to think as you do.' +</P> + +<P> +'Who that knew him,' cried Basil, 'but must have seen him, in +thought—not King, for only the barbarians have kings—but +Emperor—Emperor of the West, ruling at Rome as in the days gone by! +There lives no man more royal. I have seen him day by day commanding +and taking counsel; I have talked with him in his privacy. In the camp +before Ravenna there was but one voice, one hope, as to what should +follow when the city opened its gates, and the Goths themselves only +surrendered because they thought to be ruled by him. But for the +scruple of his conscience—and should not that have yielded to the +general good?' +</P> + +<P> +'Is breach of faith so light a thing?' fell from Marcian, under his +breath. +</P> + +<P> +'Nay,' answered the other, with drooping head, 'but he did break faith +with <I>us</I>. We had his promise; we saw him Emperor—' +</P> + +<P> +'You should have won Antonina,' said Marcian, with a return to his +sarcastic humour. 'She must have mused long and anxiously, weighing the +purple against Theodora's fury. The Patrician's fidelity stood by his +wife's prudence.' +</P> + +<P> +'The one blot upon his noble nature,' uttered Basil, with a sigh. 'His +one weakness. How,' he cried scornfully, 'can the conqueror of half the +world bend before such a woman?' +</P> + +<P> +Fatigued already by the conversation, Maximus had lain back and closed +his eyes. Very soon the two young men received his permission to +withdraw, and, as they left the room, the physician entered. Obedient +to this counsellor the invalid gave several hours to repose, but midway +in the afternoon he again summoned his daughter, with whom he had a +long and agitating conversation. He besought Aurelia to cast off her +heretical religion, putting before her all the perils to which she +exposed herself, by abandonment of the true faith, in this world and +the next. His life was hurrying to its end; hour by hour he felt the +fever wasting what little strength remained to him; and when he was +gone who would protect her against the enmities to which religion and +avarice would expose her? Aurelia's resistance was sullen rather than +resolute; her countenance, her words, suggested that she was thinking +more of what it would cost her pride to become a penitent than of any +obstacle in conscience. At length she declared plainly that never would +she humiliate herself before her aunt Petronilla, who had offered her +no greeting and held scornfully apart. Here, as Maximus too well knew, +lay the great difficulty of the situation; these women hated each +other, and their hate would only be exasperated by Aurelia's +conversion. He spoke of the deacon Leander, now on his way +hither—begged Aurelia to listen to the reverend man, and gave solemn +assurance that, the moment she abjured her errors, he would place her +in a position of wealth and authority far above that of Petronilla. So +utterly did he exhaust himself in entreaty and argument that he fell +into a fainting fit. The physician was called for, and Aurelia, she too +overcome with violent emotions, again retired to the part of the villa +which had been assigned to her. +</P> + +<P> +The Anicii of a bygone time, who took their solace here when marbles +and mosaics, paintings and tapestries, were yet new, would have looked +with consternation on halls so crumbling and bare, chambers so +ill-appointed, as these in which the guests of the Senator Maximus had +their dwelling. Space there was in abundance, but of comfort in the +guest-rooms little enough; and despite her brother's commands, +Petronilla had seen to it that Aurelia was not luxuriously lodged. +Better accommodation awaited the deacon Leander, whose arrival was +announced an hour before sunset by a trotting courier. His journey from +Salernum had so wearied the ecclesiastic that he could but give a hand +to be kissed by his hostess, and straightway retire into privacy; the +repast that was ready for him had to be served beside his couch, and +soon after night had fallen, Leander slumbered peacefully. Meanwhile +Basil and Decius and their friend from Rome had supped together, making +what cheer they might under the circumstances; the Surrentine wine was +a little acrid, falling short of its due age, but it sufficed to +animate the talk. Presently Decius withdrew, to study or to meditate +through some hours of the night, for he slept ill; the others, going +apart to a gallery lighted by the full moon, sat wrapped in thick, +hooded cloaks, to converse awhile before they slept. With their voices +mingled the soft splash of a fountain. +</P> + +<P> +Basil was telling of his journey to Cumae, and of the difficulty he had +had in persuading Aurelia to visit her father. +</P> + +<P> +'Does she live alone there?' inquired Marcian. +</P> + +<P> +There was a pause before the reply, and when Basil spoke his voice fell +to a note of half-hesitating confidence. +</P> + +<P> +'Alone? yes,' he said, 'in the sense that no relative abode with her; +but she had a companion—a lady—very young.' And here he again paused, +as if in some embarrassment. +</P> + +<P> +'A Roman?' was Marcian's next question, carelessly thrown out for he +had little interest in Aurelia, and was half occupied with other +thoughts. +</P> + +<P> +'No,' answered Basil, his voice subdued. 'A Goth; and, she says, of the +royal blood, of the line of Theodoric.' +</P> + +<P> +His friend became attentive. 'A Gothic princess? Whose daughter, then?' +asked Marcian. And Basil, who desired nothing more than to speak on +this subject, little by little threw off his hesitancy, grew rapid and +eager in narration. He told how, on his first introduction to Aurelia's +presence, he had found sitting with her a young girl, whose aspect +proclaimed her of the Gothic race. In a second interview with his +cousin, alone, Aurelia had spoken of this companion, bestowing much +praise upon her, and declaring that they were united by an affection +which nothing could diminish. She was of Amal blood; more than that +Aurelia seemed unwilling to reveal. +</P> + +<P> +'Did you not learn her name?' asked the listener. +</P> + +<P> +'Veranilda.' +</P> + +<P> +Marcian echoed the melodious syllables, but they told him nothing. +</P> + +<P> +'And did you make no inquiry of those with whom you spoke?' +</P> + +<P> +'I conversed as little as might be with strangers, and purposely held +apart from our acquaintances in the town; this was my uncle's express +command.' +</P> + +<P> +'You had no second sight of her?' +</P> + +<P> +'Indeed I had; and talked with her moreover. Marcian, how can I +describe her to you? The words which suffice for common beauty sound +meaningless when I would use them to depict Veranilda. Shall I tell you +that she has hair of the purest gold, eyes brighter than the sky at +noon, lips like the flower of the pomegranate, a cheek so fair, so +soft—nay, you may well laugh at these idle phrases—' +</P> + +<P> +'Not your phrases,' said Marcian, 'but your voice as it utters them +sets me smiling. Talk on. The chaste goddess who beams above us inspire +you with worthy terms!' +</P> + +<P> +'There you speak to the point,' pursued Basil ardently. 'For Veranilda +is chaste as she is beautiful. Blessed saints! how my heart shrank in +abhorrence when I saw that letter this morning; and how fain I would +blot from my memory that baseness of the past! O Marcian, truest of +friends, I slighted your counsel, scoffed at your warnings, but now I +know how wisely and how honestly you spoke.' +</P> + +<P> +'Be that as it may,' said the other. 'But is it possible that, on a +mere glimpse, this Gothic maiden should so have vanquished you?' +</P> + +<P> +'It had been more prudent to hold my peace. But you know me of old. +When I am moved, I must needs unbosom myself; happy that I have one +whom I can trust. Her voice, Marcian! This whisper of the night breeze +in the laurels falls rudely upon the ear after Veranilda's speech. +Never have I heard a tone so soft, so gentle. The first word she spoke +thrilled through me, as never did voice before; and I listened, +listened, hoping she would speak again.' +</P> + +<P> +'Who may she be? Has not the lady Aurelia adorned her origin? Golden +hair and blue eyes are no rarity among daughters of the Goths.' +</P> + +<P> +'Had you seen her!' exclaimed Basil, and grew rapturous again. Whilst +he exhausted language in the effort to prove how remote was Veranilda +from any shape of loveliness easily presented by memory or imagination, +Marcian pondered. +</P> + +<P> +'I can think of but one likelihood,' was his quiet remark, when his +friend had become silent. 'King Theodahad had a daughter, who married +the Gothic captain, Ebrimut.' +</P> + +<P> +'The traitor,' murmured Basil uneasily. +</P> + +<P> +'Or friend of the Romans, as you will. He delivered Rhegium to +Belisarius, and enjoys his reward at Byzantium. What if he left a child +behind him?' +</P> + +<P> +Basil repulsed the suggestion vehemently. +</P> + +<P> +'Not that! I had half thought of it myself; but no. Aurelia said of the +house of Theodoric.' +</P> + +<P> +'Why so would be a daughter of Ebrimut, through her mother—who was the +daughter of Theodahad, who was the son of Amalafrida, who was the +sister of Theodoric himself.' +</P> + +<P> +'She could not have meant that,' protested Basil. 'Child of a mercenary +traitor, who opened Italy to his people's foe! Not that! Had you seen +her, you would not believe it.' +</P> + +<P> +'Oh, my good Basil,' laughed the other, 'do you think I should see her +with your eyes? But perhaps we conjecture idly quite missing the mark. +What does it matter? You have no intention, I hope, of returning to +Cumae?' +</P> + +<P> +Basil opened his lips to reply, but thought better of it, and said +nothing. Then his friend turned to speak of the ecclesiastical visitor +who had that evening arrived, and, the subject not proving very +fruitful, each presently betook himself to his night's repose. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap03"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER III +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE DEACON LEANDER +</H3> + +<P> +The deacon Leander was some forty years of age, stoutish, a trifle +asthmatic, with a long visage expressive of much shrewdness, and bushy +eyebrows, which lent themselves at will to a look of genial +condescension, of pious austerity, or of stern command. His dark hair +and reddish beard were carefully trimmed; so were the nails of his +shapely, delicate hands. His voice, now subject to huskiness, had until +a few years ago been remarkably powerful and melodious; no deacon in +Rome was wont to excite more admiration by his chanting of the Gradual; +but that glory had passed away, and at the present time Leander's +spiritual activity was less prominent than his services as a most +capable steward of the patrimony of St. Peter. He travelled much, had +an extensive correspondence, and was probably rather respected than +reverenced by most lay folk with whom he came in contact. +</P> + +<P> +But in the eyes of the lady Petronilla, Leander was an ideal churchman. +No one treated her judgment with so much respect; no one confided to +her curious ear so many confidential matters, ranging from the secret +scandals of aristocratic Rome to high debates of ecclesiastical +polity—or what Petronilla regarded as such. Their closer acquaintance +began with the lady's presentation of certain columns of tawny Numidian +marble, from a ruined temple she had inherited, to the deacon's +basilica, St. Laurentius; and many were the donations which Leander had +since accepted from her on behalf of the Church. In return, he had once +or twice rejoiced her with the gift of a precious relic, such as came +into the hands of few below royal rank; thus had Petronilla obtained +the filings of the chain of St. Peter, which, enclosed in a golden key, +hung upon her bosom. Some day, as the deacon well knew, this pious +virgin would beg him to relieve her of all her earthly possessions, and +enter into some holy retreat; but she awaited the death of her brother, +by whose will she would doubtless benefit more or less substantially. +</P> + +<P> +If in view of the illness of Maximus, Petronilla had regarded the +deacon's visit as providential, the event of yesterday moved her to a +more agitated thankfulness for the conference she was about to enjoy. +After a night made sleepless by dread and wrath, she rose at daybreak +and passed in a fever of impatience the time which elapsed before her +reverend guest issued from his chamber. This being the fourth day of +the week, Petronilla held rigid fast until the hour of nones; and of +course no refreshment was offered to the churchman, who, with that +smiling placidity, that graceful self-possession, which ever +distinguished him in such society, at length entered the inner hall, +and suavely, almost tenderly, greeted his noble hostess. Brimming over +as she was with anxiety and indignation, Petronilla allowed nothing of +this to appear in her reception of the revered friend. To his inquiries +touching the health of the Senator, she replied with significant +gravity that Maximus had suffered during the night, and was this +morning, by the physician's report, much weaker; she added not a word +on the momentous subject presently to be broached. Then Leander, after +viewing with many compliments a piece of rich embroidery which occupied +the lady's leisure, and or its completion would of course be put at his +disposal, took a seat, set the tips of his fingers together, and began +to chat pleasantly of his journey. Many were the pious offerings which +had fallen to him upon his way: that of the Sicilian lady who gave her +little all to be used to maintain the lamps in the basilica of the +Chief Apostle; that of the merchant encountered on shipboard, who gave +ten pounds of gold to purchase the freedom of slaves; that of the +wealthy curial in Lucania, healed of disease by miracle on the feast of +St. Cyprian, who bestowed upon the church in gratitude many acres of +olive-bearing land, and promised an annual shipload of prime hogs to +feed St. Peter's poor. By smooth transition he passed to higher themes: +with absent eyes turned to the laurel-planted court on to which the +hall opened, he spoke as if scarcely aware of a listener, of troubles +at Rome occasioned by imprudences, indiscretions—what should he +say—of the Holy Father. As Petronilla bent forward, all tremulous +curiosity, he lowered his voice, grew frankly confidential. The Pope +had been summoned to Byzantium, to discuss certain points of doctrine +with the Emperor; his departure was delayed, but no doubt in his +weakness he would obey. Verily, the lack of courage—not to use severer +terms—so painfully evident in Pope Vigilius, was a grave menace to the +Church—the Catholic Church, which, rightly claiming to rule +Christendom, should hold no terms with the arrogance of Justinian. +Could it be wondered that the Holy Father was disliked—not to say +hated—by the people of Rome? By his ill management the papal granaries +had of late been so ill stored that the poor had suffered famine, the +Greeks having put an end to that gratuitous distribution of food to +which the Roman populace had from of old been accustomed. On this +account, chiefly, had Leander journeyed to Sicily, to look after the +supplies of corn, and seek out those who were to blame for the recent +negligence. His bushy eyebrows gave a hint of their sterner +possibilities as he spoke of the measures he had taken, the reproofs +and threats he had distributed. +</P> + +<P> +'May I live,' breathed Petronilla, with modest emphasis, 'to see a +great, a noble, a puissant Pontiff in the Apostolic Chair!' +</P> + +<P> +Whereat the deacon smiled, well understanding whither the lady looked +for her ideal Pope. She went on to speak of the part Vigilius had +played in the deposition and miserable death of his predecessor +Silverius, and that, as was too well known, at the bidding of haughty, +unscrupulous women, the Empress Theodora and her friend Antonina, wife +of Belisarius. Verily, the time had come for a great reform at the +Lateran; the time had come, and perhaps the divine instrument was not +far to seek. Whereupon Petronilla murmured ardently, and the deacon +again smiled. +</P> + +<P> +There was a pause. Having permitted Leander to muse a little, his +hostess turned the conversation to the troublous topic of her thoughts; +and began by saying how her brother would esteem the privilege of +counsel and solace from one so qualified to impart them. But alas she +must make known a distressful occurrence, whereby the office of a +spiritual adviser by the bedside of Maximus must needs be complicated +and made painful; and therewith Petronilla related the events of +yesterday. As he listened, the deacon knitted his brows, but in thought +rather than in affliction; and when the speaker was silent, he still +mused awhile. +</P> + +<P> +'Gracious madam,' he began at length solemnly, 'you of course hold no +intercourse with this lady?' +</P> + +<P> +'None! I have shrunk ever from the sight of her.' +</P> + +<P> +'Such abhorrence of error witnesses to the purity and the illumination +of your soul: I could have expected nothing less from Petronilla. You +know not whether the misguided woman shows any disposition to return to +the true faith?' +</P> + +<P> +'I fear not,' replied Petronilla, looking rather as if the fear were a +hope. 'Her nature is stubborn: she has the pride of the fallen angels.' +</P> + +<P> +'And her father, I am afraid, has no longer the strength to treat her +sin with due severity?' +</P> + +<P> +'Earthly affection has subdued him,' replied the lady, shaking her +head. 'Who knows,' she added, 'how far his weakness may lead my poor +brother?' +</P> + +<P> +She glanced about the hall, and Leander perfectly understood what was +in her mind. +</P> + +<P> +'Be not over anxious,' he replied soothingly. 'Leave this in my hands. +Should it be necessary, I can dispose of some days before pursuing my +journey. Take comfort, noble and pious lady! The truth will prevail.' +</P> + +<P> +The deacon's first step was to obtain a private interview with the +physician. He then made known his desire to wait upon Maximus, and with +no great delay was admitted. Tactfully, sagaciously, he drew the +sufferer to confide in him, to see in him, not so much a spiritual +admonisher as a counsellor and a support in worldly difficulties. +Leander was already well aware that the Senator had small religious +zeal, but belonged to the class of men, numerous at this time, who, +whilst professing the Christian and the orthodox faith, were in truth +philosophers rather than devotees, and regarded dogmatic questions with +a calm not easily distinguished from indifference. Maximus had scarcely +spoken of his daughter, when the deacon understood it was Aurelia's +temporal, much more than her eternal, interests which disturbed the +peace of the dying man. Under Roman law, bequests to a heretic were +null and void; though this enactment had for the most part been set +aside in Italy under Gothic rule, it might be that the Imperial code +would henceforth prevail. Maximus desired to bestow upon his daughter a +great part of his possessions. Petronilla, having sufficient means of +her own, might well be content with a moderate bequest; Basil, the +relative next of kin, had a worthy claim upon his uncle's generous +treatment, and Decius, who needed but little, must have that little +assured. The father had hoped that his entreaties, together with a +prospect of substantial reward, would prevail against Aurelia's +pride-rooted heresy, but as yet he pleaded and tempted in vain. Could +the deacon help him? +</P> + +<P> +Leander seemed to meditate profoundly. The subject of his thought was +what seemed to him a glaring omission in this testament of Maximus. He +breathed an intimate inquiry: Was the sick man at peace with his own +soul? Had he sought strength and solace from the reverend presbyter of +Surrentum, his spiritual father in this district? Maximus replied that +he had neglected no ordinary means of grace. Whilst speaking, he met +the deacon's eye; its significance was not to be mistaken. +</P> + +<P> +'I should have mentioned,' he said, averting his look, 'that the +presbyter Andreas and his poor will not be forgotten. Moreover, many of +my slaves will receive their freedom.' +</P> + +<P> +Leander murmured approvingly. Again he reflected, and again he ventured +an inquiry: Maximus would desire, no doubt, to rest with his glorious +ancestors in the mortuary chapel known as the Temple of Probus, by St. +Peter's? And seeing the emotion this excited in his listener he went on +to speak at large of the Anician house—first among the great families +of Rome to embrace Christianity, and distinguished, generation after +generation, by their support of the church, which indeed numbered among +its Supreme Pontiffs one of their line, the third Felix. Did not the +illustrious father of Maximus lead the Christian senators in their +attack upon that lingering shame, the heathen Lupercalia, since so +happily supplanted by the Feast of the Purification of the Blessed +Mary? He, dying—added Leander, with an ecstatic smile—made over to +the Apostolic See an estate in Sicily which yielded every year two rich +harvests to the widows, the orphans, the sick, and the destitute of +Rome. +</P> + +<P> +'Deacon,' broke from the hot lips of Maximus, who struggled to raise +himself, 'if I do the like, will you swear to me to use your influence, +your power, for the protection of my daughter?' +</P> + +<P> +It was the voice of nature in its struggle with the universal doom; +reason had little part in the hope with which those fading eyes fixed +themselves upon the countenance of the self-possessed churchman. +</P> + +<P> +'Heaven forbid,' was Leander's reply, 'that I should bind myself in +such terms to perform an office of friendship, which under any +circumstances would be my anxious care.' +</P> + +<P> +'Even,' asked Maximus, 'if she persist in her heresy?' +</P> + +<P> +'Even so, my dear lord, remembering from whom she springs. But,' he +added, in a soothing voice, 'let me put your mind at rest. Trust me, +the lady Aurelia will not long cling to her error. In poverty, in +humiliation, she might be obstinate; but as the possessor of +wealth—restored to her due rank—oh, my gracious lord, be assured that +her conversion will soon follow.' +</P> + +<P> +The same thought had occurred to Maximus. He sighed in profound relief, +and regarded the deacon gratefully. +</P> + +<P> +'In that hope I rest. Give me your promise to befriend her, and ask of +me what you will.' +</P> + +<P> +Save for the hours she passed at her father's side, Aurelia kept a +strict retirement, guarded by the three female slaves whom Petronilla +had reluctantly assigned to her. Of them she required no intimate +service, having her own attendants, an elderly woman, the nurse of her +childhood, who through all changes of fortune had never quitted her, +and a younger, half-Goth, half-Italian, who discharged humbler duties. +She occupied a small dwelling apart from the main structure of the +villa, but connected with it by a portico: this was called the House of +Proba, it having been constructed a hundred years ago for the lady +Faltonia Proba, who wrote verses, and perhaps on that account desired a +special privacy. Though much neglected, the building had beauty of +form, and was full of fine work in mosaic. Here, in a little peristyle, +where shrubs and creepers had come to wild growth, the sore-hearted +lady sat brooding or paced backwards and forwards, her eyes ever on the +ground. When yet a maiden she had several times spent summer at +Surrentum; her memory revived that early day which seemed so long ago; +she lived again with her brothers and sisters, all dead, with her +mother whom griefs had aged so soon. Then came a loveless marriage, +which soon involved her in the public troubles of the time; for her +husband, whose estates lay in Tuscany, was robbed of all by Theodahad, +and having vainly sought redress from the young King Athalaric, decided +to leave Italy for Byzantium, to which end Aurelia sold a property in +Campania, her dower. Before they could set forth upon their journey, +her husband caught the plague and died. In second wedlock she would +have known contentment but for the alienation of her kin and the +scornful hostility of all her class. When widowhood again befell her +she was saved from want by a small treasure of money which remained +hidden in the dwelling at Cumae when the Gothic warrior, her lord, +escaped from Belisarius. As this store diminished, Aurelia had looked +forward with dread, for she hoped nothing from her father. And now that +such fears seemed to be over, her long tortured pride clamoured for +solace. It was not enough to regain her father's love and enjoy an +inheritance; she wished to see her enemies at her feet, and to trample +upon them—her enemies being not only Petronilla and certain other +kinsfolk but all the nobility of Rome, nay, all the orthodox of the +Christian church. Pacing, pacing alone, she brooded vast schemes of +vengeance. +</P> + +<P> +When it was announced to her that the Roman deacon besought an +interview, she at first refused to receive him. Thereupon Leander sent +her a few lines in writing, most ceremoniously worded, in which he +declared that his purposes were those of a disinterested friend, that +no word such as could pain or offend her would pass his lips, and that +he had it in his power to communicate something which would greatly +benefit her. Aurelia reflected disdainfully, but at length consented to +the churchman's approach. Leander's bearing as he entered her presence +was as elaborately courteous as the phrasing of his letter. +</P> + +<P> +'Noble lady,' he began, standing with bowed head, 'let not your eyes +take note of my garb. See in me only a devoted servant of your +illustrious house. His Magnificence, your father, assured of the +sincerity wherewith I place at his command such powers and +opportunities as I owe to heaven's grace, has deigned to confide in me +regarding the disposition of his worldly affairs whereto he is prompted +by languishing health.' +</P> + +<P> +He paused a moment, but Aurelia had no word of reply to this exordium. +Seeing her keep the same haughty posture in her chair, with eyes +scornfully averted as if she scarce listened, Leander proceeded to +disclose his mind in less ornate terms By subtle grades of confidential +speech, beginning with a declaration of the sympathy moved in him by +the parent's love, the daughter's distress, he came with lowering +voice, with insinuating tone, with blandly tolerant countenance, to the +kernel of his discourse; it contained a suggestion which might—he only +said <I>might</I>—aid her amid the manifold perplexities of her position. +By this time Aurelia was more attentive; the churchman almost +affectionate in his suavity, grew still more direct; and at length, in +a voice which only reached the ear of the listener, he spoke thus: +</P> + +<P> +'I understand why you stepped aside from the way of truth; I perceive +the obstacles hindering your return. I know the tender impulses which +urge you to soothe your father's last hours, and, no less, the motives, +natural to a woman of your beauty, of your birth, which are at strife +with that tenderness and threaten to overcome it. Could you discover a +means of yielding to your filial affection, and at the same time +safeguarding your noble pride, would you not gladly use it? Such a +means I can point out to you.' +</P> + +<P> +He became silent, watching Aurelia. She, won by the perspicacity which +read her heart, had put aside all arrogance, and wore a look of grave +intentness. +</P> + +<P> +'Let me know it,' she murmured. +</P> + +<P> +'It is this. Return to the true belief, but guard awhile the secret of +your conversion. That it shall not be disclosed until you wish, I can +give you firm assurance—if need be, on solemn oath. You will privately +make known to your father that he has prevailed, thereby you put his +flesh and spirit at rest,—he will die blessing you, and enriching you +to the full extent of his desire. You will then also set your signature +to a paper, which I shall write, making confession of the orthodox +faith, and undertaking to be duly reconciled with the church, by the +imposition of hands, at some convenient season. That is all that will +be asked of you for the present. The lady Petronilla'—he all but +smiled in uttering the name—'shall not even suspect what has happened.' +</P> + +<P> +'Will this villa be mine?' asked the listener after brief reflection. +</P> + +<P> +'This villa shall be yours.' +</P> + +<P> +An exultant gleam shone in Aurelia's eyes. +</P> + +<P> +'Deacon,' she said sternly, 'your promise is not enough. Swear to me +that no one living, save my father and you, shall know.' +</P> + +<P> +From his bosom Leander drew forth a little golden cross. +</P> + +<P> +'This,' he said reverently, 'contains dust of iron from the bars on +which the blessed Laurentius suffered martyrdom.' +</P> + +<P> +'Swear also,' demanded Aurelia, 'by the Holy Pancratius.' In the name +of both saints Leander took his oath of secrecy. Petronilla was of +course aware that the deacon had been admitted to audience by her +niece. When he descended, she awaited him at the end of the portico, +and her look questioned him. +</P> + +<P> +'Stubborn, stubborn!' murmured Leander, shaking his head, and passed on +as though in troubled thought. +</P> + +<P> +Later in the day, when she had seen her father, Aurelia made known to +her cousin Basil, who had requested an interview, that he might come. +His cousin received him smilingly, almost affectionately. +</P> + +<P> +Marcian having this morning taken his leave, called away by some +unexplained business to Neapolis, Basil had been on the point of taking +Decius into his amorous confidence, when this summons rejoiced him. +</P> + +<P> +'Is the letter written?' were Basil's first words. +</P> + +<P> +'It is here. Can you despatch it at once?' +</P> + +<P> +'I will take it myself,' he answered promptly. +</P> + +<P> +Aurelia shook her head. +</P> + +<P> +'You must not. My father's life is fast failing. No one can say which +hour may be his last. If he asked for you, and you were absent—' +</P> + +<P> +'Felix shall go,' said Basil. 'The wind is favourable. He may have to +ride back to-morrow, but we can trust him to make all speed.' +</P> + +<P> +'He took the letter, which was superscribed, 'To the most noble lady +Veranilda.' +</P> + +<P> +'Dear cousin, you have spoken of me?' he asked with a wistful look. +</P> + +<P> +'I have said, good cousin,' Aurelia answered pleasantly, 'that you +wished to be spoken of.' +</P> + +<P> +'Only that?' +</P> + +<P> +'What more should I say? Your Amiability is too hasty. Remember that +you have scarce seen her.' +</P> + +<P> +'Scarce seen Veranilda!' exclaimed Basil. 'Why, it seems to me as +though I had known her for years! Have we not talked together?' +</P> + +<P> +'Once. The first time does not count; you exchanged hardly a dozen +words. When,' added Aurelia, smiling, 'were you so dashed in a maid's +presence?' +</P> + +<P> +'Nay, never! I am not accused of too much modesty; but when I entered +and looked on Veranilda—oh, it was the strangest moment of my life! +Noble cousin,' he added pleadingly, 'honoured Aurelia, do but tell me +what is her parentage?' +</P> + +<P> +'How does that concern your Excellence? I have told you all that it +imports you to know—at all events for the present. Cousin Basil, you +delay the letter; I should wish her to have it before nightfall, for +she thinks anxiously of me.' +</P> + +<P> +'I go. When may I again speak with you?' +</P> + +<P> +'You shall hear when I am at leisure.' +</P> + +<P> +Basil despatched his servant to Cumae not with one letter only, but +with two. Greatly daring, he had himself written to Veranilda; in brief +terms, but every word tremulous with his passion. And for half an hour +he stood watching the sail which wafted his messenger over the gulf, +ruffled to-day by a south-west wind, driver of clouds. Little thought +had he to give to the dying Maximus, but at the ninth hour he turned +his steps to the oratory, once a temple of Isis, and heard the office, +and breathed a prayer for his kindly relative. Which duty discharged, +he prayed more fervently, to whatever saint or deity has ear for such +petitions, that he might be loved by the Gothic maid. +</P> + +<P> +This evening Maximus seemed to suffer less. He lay with closed eyes, a +look of calm on his worn countenance. Beside him sat Decius, reading in +low tones from that treatise on the Consolation of Philosophy, which +Boethius wrote in prison, a hook wherein Maximus sought comfort, this +last year or two more often than in the Evangel, or the Lives of +Saints. Decius himself would have chosen a philosopher of older time, +but in the words of his own kinsman, Maximus found an appeal more +intimate, a closer sympathy, than in ancient teaching. He loved +especially the passages of verse; and when the reader came to those +lines— +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + 'O felix hominum genus,<BR> + Si vestros animos amor<BR> + Quo coelum regitur, regat,'<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +he raised his hand, smiling with peculiar sweetness. +</P> + +<P> +'Pause there, O Decius,' he said, in a weak but clear voice; 'let me +muse awhile.' And he murmured the verses to himself. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap04"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER IV +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +TO CUMAE +</H3> + +<P> +The Bishop of Surrentum, an elderly man and infirm, had for the past +fortnight been unable to leave his house, but day by day he received +news of what passed at the villa of Maximus, and held with the +presbyter, Andreas, many colloquies on that weighty topic, the +senator's testament. As it happened, neither bishop nor presbyter had +much aptitude for worldly affairs; they were honest, simple-minded +clerics, occupied with visions and marvels and the saving details of +dogma; exultant whenever a piece of good fortune befell their church, +but modest in urging a claim at the bedside of the sick. Being the son +of a freedman who had served in the Anician house, the bishop could not +approach Maximus without excessive reverence; before Petronilla he was +even more unduly awed. +</P> + +<P> +On Sunday morning the good prelate lay wakeful at the hour of matins, +and with quavering voice chanted to himself the psalm of the office +from which his weakness held him apart. Presently the door opened, and +in the dim lamp-light appeared the presbyter Andreas, stepping softly. +He made known that an urgent message had just summoned him to the +villa; Maximus was near his end. +</P> + +<P> +'I, too, will come,' exclaimed the bishop, rising in his bed and +ringing loudly a little hand-bell. +</P> + +<P> +'Venerable father! your health—' +</P> + +<P> +'Hasten, hasten, Andreas! I follow.' +</P> + +<P> +In less than an hour he descended from his litter, and, resting on the +arms of two servants, was conducted to the chamber of the dying man. +Andreas had just administered the last rites; whether the fixed eyes +still saw was doubtful. At a murmur of 'the bishop' those by the +doorway reverently drew aside. On one side of the bed were Aurelia and +the deacon; on the other, Petronilla and Basil and Decius. Though +kneeling, the senator's daughter held herself proudly. Though tears +were on her face, she hardly disguised an air of triumph. Nor was the +head of Petronilla bent; her countenance looked hard and cold as +marble. Leander, a model of decorum, stepped with grave greeting +towards the prelate, and whispered a word or two. In the stillness that +followed there quivered a deep breath. Flavius Anicius Maximus had +lived his life. +</P> + +<P> +When the bishop, supported by Leander and Andreas, rose from prayer, he +was led by the obsequious clerics to a hall illumined by several lamps, +where two brasiers gave forth a grateful glow in the chill of the +autumn morning. Round about the walls, in niches, stood busts carved or +cast of the ancestors of him who lay dead. Here, whilst voices of +lamentation sounded from without, Leander made known to the prelate and +the presbyter the terms of the will. Basil was instituted 'heir'; that +is to say, he became the legal representative of the dead man, and was +charged with the distribution of those parts of the estate bequeathed +to others. First of the legatees stood Aurelia. The listeners learnt +with astonishment that the obstinate heretic was treated as though her +father had had no cause of complaint against her; she was now mistress +of the Surrentine estate, as well as of the great house in Rome, and of +other property. A lamentable thing, the deacon admitted suavely; but, +for his part, he was not without hope, and he fixed his eyes with a +peculiar intensity on the troubled bishop. +</P> + +<P> +Petronilla drew near. The will was already known to her in every +detail, and she harboured a keen suspicion of the secret which lay +behind it. Leander, she could not doubt, was behaving to her with +duplicity, and this grieved her to the heart. It was to the bishop that +she now addressed herself. +</P> + +<P> +'Holy father, I am your suppliant. Not even for a day will I remain +under this roof, even if—which is doubtful—I should be suffered to do +so. I put myself under the protection of your Holiness, until such time +as I can set forth on my sad journey to Rome. At Surrentum I must abide +until the corpse of my brother can be conveyed to its final resting +place—as I promised him.' +</P> + +<P> +Much agitated, the prelate made answer that a fitting residence should +be prepared for her before noon, and the presbyter Andreas added that +he would instantly betake himself to the city on that business. +Petronilla thanked him with the loftiest humility. For any lack of +respect, or for common courtesy, to which they might be exposed ere +they quitted the villa, she besought their Sanctities not to hold her +responsible, she herself being now an unwilling intruder at this +hearth, and liable at any moment to insult. Uttering which words in a +resonant voice, she turned her eyes to where, a few yards away, stood +Aurelia, with Basil and Decius behind her. +</P> + +<P> +'Reverend bishop,' spoke a voice not less steady and sonorous than that +of the elder lady, 'should you suffer any discourtesy in my house, it +will come not from me, but from her who suggests its possibility, and +whose mind is bent upon such things. Indeed, she has already scanted +the respect she owes you in uttering these words. As for herself, +remain she here for an hour or for a month, she is in no danger of +insult—unless she deem it an insult to have her base falsehood flung +back at her, and the enmity in her fierce eyes answered with the scorn +it merits.' +</P> + +<P> +Petronilla trembled with wrath. +</P> + +<P> +'Falsehood!' she echoed, on a high, mocking note. 'A charge of +falsehood upon <I>her</I> lips! Your Holiness will ere long, I do not doubt, +be enlightened as to that woman's principles in the matter of truth and +falsehood. Meanwhile, we shall consult our souls' welfare, as well as +our dignity, in holding as little intercourse as may be with one who +has renounced the faith in Christ.' +</P> + +<P> +Aurelia bent her eyes upon the deacon, who met the look with austere +fixedness. There was dead silence for a moment, then she turned to the +young men behind her. +</P> + +<P> +'My noble cousins, I desired your company because I foresaw this +woman's violence, and knew not to what length it might carry her. She +pretends to fear my tongue; for my part, I would not lightly trust +myself within reach of her hands, of which I learnt the weight when I +was a little child. Lord Decius, attend, I beg you, these reverend men +whilst they honour my house and on their way homeward. My cousin Basil, +I must needs ask you to be my guard, until I can command service here. +Follow me, I pray.' +</P> + +<P> +With another piercing glance at Leander she withdrew from the assembly. +</P> + +<P> +It was a morning of wind and cloud; the day broke sadly. When the first +gleam of yellow sunlight flitted over Surrentum towards the cliffs of +Capreae, silence had fallen upon the villa. Wearied by their night of +watching, the inhabitants slept, or at least reposed in privacy. But +this quiet was of short duration. When the customary bell had given +notice of the third hour, Aurelia called together the servants of the +house—only those who belonged to Petronilla failing to answer her +summons—and announced to them her new authority. At the same time the +steward of the estate read out a list of those slaves who, under the +will of Maximus, could claim their emancipation. The gathering having +dispersed, there appeared an attendant of the deacon Leander; his +reverend master would wait upon the lady Aurelia, as soon as her +leisure permitted, for the purpose of taking leave. Forthwith the +deacon was admitted. Alone in the great hall, Aurelia sat beside a +brasier, at which she warmed her hands; she scarcely deigned to glance +at the ecclesiastic. +</P> + +<P> +'You pursue your journey, reverend?' were her first words. +</P> + +<P> +'As far as Neapolis, gracious lady,' came the suave reply. 'There or in +the neighbourhood I shall remain at least ten days. Should you desire +to communicate with me—' +</P> + +<P> +'I think I can save that trouble,' interrupted Aurelia, with quivering +lips. 'All I have to say to your Sanctity, I will say at once. It is, +that you have enlightened me as to the value of solemn oaths on the +lips of the Roman clergy.' +</P> + +<P> +'Your meaning, dear madam?' asked Leander, with a look of bland disdain. +</P> + +<P> +'You have the face to ask it, deacon, after Petronilla's words this +morning?' +</P> + +<P> +'I feared they might mislead you. The lady Petronilla knows nothing of +what has passed between us. She spoke in anger, and hazarded an +accusation—as angry ladies are wont.' +</P> + +<P> +'Of course you say so,' returned Aurelia. 'I will believe you if you +give me back the paper I signed, and trust to my word for the +fulfilment of what I promised.' +</P> + +<P> +Leander smiled, almost as if he had heard some happy intelligence. +</P> + +<P> +'You ask,' he said, 'for a trust you yourself refuse.' +</P> + +<P> +'Then go your way, perjurer!' exclaimed Aurelia, her cheeks aflame with +passion. 'I know henceforth on whom to rely.' +</P> + +<P> +For a moment Leander stood as if reflecting on these last words; then +he bowed, and with placid dignity retired. +</P> + +<P> +Meanwhile Basil and Decius were conversing with Petronilla. Neither of +them had ever stood on terms of more than courteous forbearance with +this authoritative lady; at present they maintained their usual +demeanour, and did not think it needful to apologise for friendly +relations with Aurelia. The only subject on which Petronilla deigned to +hold colloquy with them was that of her brother's burial at Rome. +Should the transport be by land or by sea? This evening the corpse +would be conveyed to the cathedral of Surrentum, where due rites would +be performed early on the morrow; there it would remain in temporary +interment until a coffin of lead could be prepared, and arrangements +completed for the removal. Was the year too advanced, questioned +Petronilla, to allow of the sea voyage? On the other hand, would the +land journey be safe, having regard to the advance of the Gothic army? +Basil pronounced for the sea, and undertook to seek for a vessel. Was +he willing, asked Petronilla, to accompany the body to Rome? This +question gave Basil pause; he reflected uneasily; he hesitated. Yet who +could discharge this duty, if he did not? Suddenly ashamed of his +hesitation, the true reason of which could not be avowed, he declared +that he would make the voyage. +</P> + +<P> +Hereupon entered the deacon, who, the matter being put before him, +approved these arrangements. He himself would doubtless be in Rome +before the arrival of the remains of Maximus, and all the details of +the burial there might be left to him. So Petronilla thanked and +dismissed the young men, on whose retirement she turned eagerly to +Leander. +</P> + +<P> +'Forgive me!' broke from her lips. 'I know how deeply I have offended +your Sanctity. It was my fear that you would go away without a word. My +haste, my vehemence, merited even that punishment.' +</P> + +<P> +'Calm yourself, noble lady,' returned the deacon. 'I was indeed +grieved, but I know your provocation. We may speak on this subject +again; but not here. For the present, I take my leave of you, all being +ready for my departure. As you are quitting this house at once, you +need no counsel as to immediate difficulties; I will only say, in all +things be prudent, be self-controlled; before long, you may see reason +for the discreet silence which I urge upon you.' +</P> + +<P> +'When do you set forth to Rome?' asked Petronilla. 'If it might be my +privilege to journey in your company—?' +</P> + +<P> +'The day is uncertain,' replied Leander; 'but if it be possible for us +to travel together, trust me to beg for the honour. You shall hear of +my projects in a week's time from Neapolis.' +</P> + +<P> +Petronilla fell to her knees, and again besought his forgiveness with +his benediction. The deacon magnanimously granted both, and whilst +bending over the devout lady, whispered one word: +</P> + +<P> +'Patience!' +</P> + +<P> +An hour after mid-day, Petronilla quitted the villa. Her great +travelling chariot, drawn by four mules, wherein she and her most +precious possessions were conveyed, descended at a stately pace the +winding road to Surrentum. Before it rode Basil; behind came a laden +wagon, two light vehicles carrying female slaves, and mounted +men-servants, armed as though for a long and perilous journey. Since +the encounter before sunrise, there had been no meeting between the +hostile ladies. Aurelia signified her scorn by paying no heed to her +aunt's departure. +</P> + +<P> +Alone in her dominion, the inheritress entered the death-chamber, and +there passed an hour upon her knees. Whilst she was thus secluded, a +pealing storm traversed the sky. When Aurelia came forth again, her +face was wan, tearstained. She summoned her nurse, and held much talk +with her as to the significance of thunder whilst a corpse lay in the +house. The good woman, though she durst not utter all her thoughts, +babbled concern, and used the occasion to beseech Aurelia—as she had +often done since the death of her Gothic lord—to be reconciled with +the true church. +</P> + +<P> +'True church!' exclaimed Aurelia, with sudden passion. 'How do you know +which is the true church? Have not emperors, have not bishops and +numberless holy men lived and died in the faith I confess—?' +</P> + +<P> +She checked herself; grew silent, brooded. Meanwhile, the old nurse +talked on, and presently began to relate how a handmaid of Petronilla, +in going with her this morning, professed to know on the surest +evidence that Aurelia, by her father's deathbed, had renounced +Arianism. The sullen countenance of her mistress flashed again into +wrath. +</P> + +<P> +'Did I not forbid you,' cried Aurelia, 'to converse with those women? +And you dare repeat to me their loose-lipped chatter. I am too familiar +with you; go and talk with your kind; go!' +</P> + +<P> +Mutteringly the woman went apart. The mistress, alone, fell into a long +weeping. When she had sobbed herself into quiet once more, she sought a +volume of the Gospels, inserted her forefinger between the pages at +random, and anxiously regarded the passage thus chosen. +</P> + +<P> +'While ye have the light, believe in the light, that ye may be the +children of light.' +</P> + +<P> +She brooded, but in the end seemed to find solace. +</P> + +<P> +Basil was absent all day. On his return, just before sunset, Aurelia +met him in the atrium, heard the report of what he had done, and at +length asked whether, on the day after to-morrow, he could go to Cumae. +</P> + +<P> +'To Cumae?' exclaimed Basil. 'Ay, that I can! You are returning +thither?' +</P> + +<P> +'For a day only. I go to seek that which no one but myself can find.' +</P> + +<P> +The listener had no difficulty in understanding this; it meant, of +course, treasure concealed in the house Aurelia had long inhabited. +</P> + +<P> +'We must both go and return by sea,' said Aurelia, 'even though it +cause us delay. I have no mind to pass through Neapolis.' +</P> + +<P> +'Be it so. The sky will be calm when this storm has passed Shall you +return,' said Basil, 'alone?' +</P> + +<P> +'Alone? Do you purpose to forsake me?' +</P> + +<P> +'Think better of my manners, cousin—and more shrewdly of my meaning.' +</P> + +<P> +'You mean fairly, I trust?' she returned, looking him steadily in the +face. +</P> + +<P> +'Nay,' cried the young man vehemently, 'if I have any thought other +than honest, may I perish before I ever again behold her!' +</P> + +<P> +Aurelia's gaze softened. +</P> + +<P> +'It is well,' she said; 'we will speak again to-morrow.' +</P> + +<P> +That night Petronilla kept vigil in the church of Surrentum, Basil and +Decius relieving her an hour before dawn. At the funeral service, which +began soon after sunrise, the greater part of the townsfolk attended. +All were eager to see whether the daughter of Maximus would be present, +for many rumours were rife touching Aurelia, some declaring that she +had returned to the true faith, some that she remained obstinate in +heresy. Her failure to appear did not set the debate at rest. A servant +of Petronilla whispered it about that only by a false pretence of +conversion had Aurelia made sure her inheritance; and at the mere +thought of such wickedness the hearers shuddered, foretelling a dread +retribution. The clergy were mute on the subject, even with the most +favoured of their flock. Meanwhile the piety and austerity of +Petronilla made a safe topic of talk, and a long procession reverently +escorted her to her temporary abode near the bishop's house. +</P> + +<P> +To-day the clouds spent themselves in rain; before nightfall the +heavens began to clear. The island peak of Inarime stood purple against +a crimson sunset. After supper, Aurelia and Basil held conference. The +wind would not be favourable for their voyage; none the less, they +decided to start at the earliest possible hour. Dawn was but just +streaking the sky, when they rode down the dark gorge which led to the +shore, Basil attended by Felix, the lady by one maid. The bark awaited +them, swaying gently against the harbour-side. Aurelia descended to the +little cabin curtained off below a half-deck, and—sails as yet being +useless—four great oars urged the craft on its way. +</P> + +<P> +What little wind there was breathed from the north For an hour they +made but slow progress, but when the first rays of sun gleamed above +the mountains, the breeze shifted westward; sails were presently +hoisted, and the rippling water hissed before the prow. Soon a golden +day shone upon sea and land. Aurelia came forth on to the deck, and sat +gazing towards Neapolis. +</P> + +<P> +'You know that the deacon is yonder,' she said in a low voice to Basil, +this the first mention of Leander that had fallen from her lips in +speaking with him. +</P> + +<P> +'Is he?' returned the other carelessly. 'Yes, I remember.' +</P> + +<P> +But Basil's eyes were turned to the long promontory of Misenum. He was +wondering anxiously how his letter had affected Veranilda, and whether, +when she heard of it, Aurelia would be angered. +</P> + +<P> +'Where is your friend Marcian?' were her next words. +</P> + +<P> +Basil replied that he, too, was sojourning at Neapolis; and, when +Aurelia inquired what business held him there, her cousin answered +truly that he did not know. +</P> + +<P> +'Do you trust him?' asked the lady, after a thoughtful pause. +</P> + +<P> +'Marcian? As I trust myself!' +</P> + +<P> +One of the boatmen coming within earshot, their conversation ceased. +</P> + +<P> +The hour before noon saw them drawing near to land. They left on the +right the little island of Nesis, and drew towards Puteoli. On the left +lay Baiae, all but forsaken, its ancient temples and villas stretching +along the shore from the Lucrine lake to the harbour shadowed by Cape +Misenum; desolate magnificence, marble overgrown with ivy, gardens +where the rose grew wild, and terraces crumbling into the sea. Basil +and Aurelia looked upon these things with an eye made careless by +familiarity; all their lives ruin had lain about them, deserted +sanctuaries of a bygone creed, unpeopled homes of a vanished greatness. +</P> + +<P> +As the boat advanced into the bay, it lost the wind, and rowing again +became needful. Thus they entered the harbour of Puteoli, where the +travellers disembarked. +</P> + +<P> +Hard by the port was a tavern, which, owing to its position midway +between Neapolis and Cumae, still retained something of its character +as a <I>mansio</I> of the posting service; but the vehicles and quadrupeds +of which it boasted were no longer held in strict reserve for state +officials and persons privileged. Gladly the innkeeper put at Basil's +disposal his one covered carriage, a trifle cleaner inside than it was +without, and a couple of saddle horses, declared to be Sicilian, but +advanced in age. Thus, with slight delay, the party pursued their +journey, Basil and his man riding before the carriage. The road ran +coastwise as far as the Julian haven, once thronged with the shipping +of the Roman world, now all but abandoned to a few fishermen; there it +turned inland, skirted the Lucrine water, and presently reached the +shore of Lake Avernus, where was the entrance to the long tunnel +piercing the hill between the lake and Cumae. On an ill-kept way, under +a low vault of rock dripping moisture, the carriage with difficulty +tossed and rumbled through the gloom. Basil impatiently trotted on, +and, as he issued into sunlight, there before him stood the walls of +the ancient city, round about that little hill by the sea which, in an +age remote, had been chosen for their abode by the first Hellenes +tempted to the land of Italy. High above rose the acropolis, a frowning +stronghold. Through Basil's mind passed the thought that ere long Cumae +might again belong to the Goths, and this caused him no uneasiness; +half, perchance, he hoped it. +</P> + +<P> +A guard at the city gate inspected the carriage, and let it pass on. In +a few minutes, guided by Basil, it drew up before a house in a narrow, +climbing street, a small house, brick fronted, with stucco pilasters +painted red at the door, and two windows, closed with wooden shutters, +in the upper storey. On one side of the entrance stood a shop for the +sale of earthenware; on the other, a vintner's with a projecting marble +table, the jars of wine thereon exhibited being attached by chains to +rings in the wall. Odours of cookery, and of worse things, oppressed +the air, and down the street ran a noisome gutter. When Basil's servant +had knocked, a little wicket slipped aside for observation; then, after +a grinding of heavy locks and bars, the double doors were opened, and a +grey-headed slave stepped forward to receive his mistress. Basil had +jumped down from his horse, and would fain have entered, but, by an +arrangement already made, this was forbidden. Saying that she would +expect him at the second hour on the morrow, Aurelia disappeared. Her +cousin after a longing look at the blind and mute house, rode away to +another quarter of the city, near the harbour, where was an inn at +which he had lodged during his previous visit. In a poor and dirty +room, he made shift to dine on such food as could be offered him; then +lay down on the truckle bed, and slept for an hour or two. +</P> + +<P> +A knock at the door awoke him. It was Felix, who brought the news that +Marcian was at Cumae. +</P> + +<P> +'You have seen him?' cried Basil, astonished and eager. +</P> + +<P> +'His servant Sagaris,' Felix replied. 'I met him but now in the forum, +and learnt that his lord lodges at the house of the curial Venustus; +hard by the Temple of Diana.' +</P> + +<P> +'Go thither at once, and beg him, if his leisure serve, to come to me. +I would go myself; but, if he have seen Sagaris, he may be already on +the way here.' +</P> + +<P> +And so it proved, for in a very few minutes Marcian himself entered the +room. +</P> + +<P> +'Your uncle is dead,' were his first words. 'I heard it in Neapolis +yesterday. What brings you here?' +</P> + +<P> +'Nay, best Marcian,' returned the other, with hands on his friend's +shoulders, and peering him in the face, 'let me once again put that +question to <I>you</I>.' +</P> + +<P> +'I cannot answer it, yet,' said Marcian gravely. 'Your business is more +easily guessed.' +</P> + +<P> +'But must not be talked of here,' interrupted Basil, glancing at the +door. 'Let us find some more suitable place.' +</P> + +<P> +They descended the dark, foul stairs, and went out together. Before the +house stood the two serving-men, who, as their masters walked away, +followed at a respectful distance. When safe from being overheard, +Basil recounted to his friend the course of events at the Surrentine +villa since Marcian's departure, made known his suspicion that Aurelia +had secretly returned to the Catholic faith. He then told of to day's +journey and its purpose, his hearer wearing a look of grave attention. +</P> + +<P> +'Can it be,' asked Marcian, 'that you think of wedding this Gothic +beauty?' +</P> + +<P> +'Assuredly,' answered Basil, with a laugh, 'I have thought of it.' +</P> + +<P> +'And it looks as though Aurelia favoured your desire.' +</P> + +<P> +'It has indeed something of that appearance.' +</P> + +<P> +'Pray you now, dear lord,' said Marcian, 'be sober awhile. Have you +reflected that, with such a wife, you would not dare return to Rome?' +</P> + +<P> +Basil had not regarded that aspect of the matter, but his friend's +reasoning soon brought him to perceive the danger he would lightly have +incurred. Dangers, not merely those that resulted from the war; could +he suppose, asked Marcian, that Heliodora would meekly endure his +disdain, and that the life of Veranilda would be safe in such a rival's +proximity? Hereat, Basil gnashed his teeth and handled his dagger. Why +return to Rome at all? he cried impatiently. He had no mind to go +through the torments of a long siege such as again threatened. Why +should he not live on in Campania— +</P> + +<P> +'And tend your sheep or your goats?' interrupted Marcian, with his +familiar note of sad irony. 'And pipe <I>sub tegmine fagi</I> to your +blue-eyed Amaryllis? Why not, indeed? But what if; on learning the +death of Maximus, the Thracian who rules yonder see fit to command your +instant return, and to exact from you an account of what you have +inherited? Bessas loses no time—suspecting—perhaps—that his tenure +of a fruitful office may not be long.' +</P> + +<P> +'And if the suspicion be just?' said Basil, gazing hard at his friend. +</P> + +<P> +'Well, if it be?' said the other, returning the look. +</P> + +<P> +'Should we not do well to hold far from Rome, looking to King Totila, +whom men praise, as a deliverer of our land from hateful tyranny?' +</P> + +<P> +Marcian laid a hand on his friend's shoulder. +</P> + +<P> +'O, brave Basil!' he murmured, with a smile. 'O, nobly confident in +those you love! Never did man so merit love in return.—Do as you will. +In a few days I shall again visit you at Surrentum, and perchance bring +news that may give us matter for talk.' +</P> + +<P> +From a portico hard by there approached a beggar, a filthy and hideous +cripple, who, with whining prayer, besought alms. Marcian from his +wallet took a copper coin, and, having glanced at it, drew Basil's +attention. +</P> + +<P> +'Look,' said he, smiling oddly, 'at the image and the superscription.' +</P> + +<P> +It was a coin of Vitiges, showing a helmeted bust of the goddess of the +city, with legend '<I>Invicta Roma</I>.' +</P> + +<P> +'<I>Invicta Roma</I>,' muttered Basil sadly, with head bent. +</P> + +<P> +Meanwhile, out of earshot of their masters, the two servants conversed +with not less intimacy. At a glance these men were seen to be of +different races. Felix, aged some five and thirty, could boast of free +birth; he was the son of a curial—that is to say, municipal +councillor—of Arpinum, who had been brought to ruin, like so many of +his class in this age, by fiscal burdens, the curiales being +responsible for the taxes payable by their colleagues, as well as for +the dues on any estate in their district which might be abandoned, and, +in brief, for whatsoever deficiencies of local revenue. Gravity and +sincerity appeared in his countenance; he seldom smiled, spoke in a +subdued voice, and often kept his eyes on the ground; but his service +was performed with rare conscientiousness, and he had often given proof +of affection for his master. Sagaris, a Syrian slave, less than thirty +years old, had a comely visage which ever seemed to shine with +contentment, and often twinkled with a sort of roguish mirth. Tall and +of graceful bearing, the man's every movement betrayed personal vanity; +his speech had the note of facile obsequiousness; he talked whenever +occasion offered, and was fond of airing his views on political and +other high matters. Therewithal, he was the most superstitious of +mortals; wore amulets, phylacteries, charms of all sorts, and secretly +prayed to many strange gods. When he had nothing else to do, and could +find a genial companion, his delight was to play by the hour at <I>micare +digitis</I>; but, in spite of his master's good opinion, not to Sagaris +would have applied the proverb that you might play that game with him +in the dark. +</P> + +<P> +'Take my word for it,' he whispered to Felix, with his most important +air, 'we shall see strange things ere long. Last night I counted seven +shooting stars.' +</P> + +<P> +'What does that argue?' asked the other soberly. +</P> + +<P> +'More than I care to put into Latin. At Capua, three days ago, a woman +gave birth to a serpent, a winged dragon, which flew away towards Rome. +I talked at Neapolis with a man who saw it.' +</P> + +<P> +'Strange, indeed,' murmured Felix, with raised eyebrows. 'I have often +heard of such portents, but never had the luck to behold one of them. +Yet,' he added gravely, 'I have received a sign. When my father died, I +was far away from him, and at that very hour, as I prayed in the church +of Holy Clement at Rome, I heard a voice that said in my ear, <I>Vale</I>! +three times.' +</P> + +<P> +'Oh, I have had signs far more wonderful than that,' exclaimed the +Syrian. 'I was at sea, between Alexandria and Berytus—for you must +know that in my boyhood I passed three years at Berytus, and there +obtained that knowledge of law which you may have remarked in talking +with me—well, I was at sea—' +</P> + +<P> +'Peace!' interposed Felix. 'We are summoned.' +</P> + +<P> +Sagaris sighed, and became the obsequious attendant. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap05"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER V +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +BASIL AND VERANILDA +</H3> + +<P> +At the appointed hour next morning, when yet no ray of sunshine had +touched the gloomy little street, though a limpid sky shone over it, +Basil stood at Aurelia's door. The grey-headed porter silently admitted +him, and he passed by a narrow corridor into a hall lighted as usual +from above, paved with red tiles, here and there trodden away, the +walls coloured a dusky yellow, and showing an imaginary line of pillars +painted in blue. A tripod table, a couch, and a few chairs were the +only furniture. When the visitor had waited for a few moments a curtain +concealing the entrance to the inner part of the house moved aside, and +Aurelia's voice bade her cousin come forward. He entered a smaller room +opening upon a diminutive court where a few shrubs grew; around the +walls hung old and faded tapestry; the floor was of crude mosaic; the +furniture resembled that of the atrium, with the addition of a brasier. +</P> + +<P> +'I have been anxious for your coming,' were Aurelia's first words. 'Do +you think they will let us depart without hindrance? Yesterday I saw +the owner of this house to transact my business with him. It is +Venustus, a curial, a man who has always been well disposed to me. He +said that he must perforce make known to the governor my intention of +leaving the city, and hoped no obstacle would be put in our way. This +morning, before sunrise, a messenger from the citadel came and put +questions to the porter.' +</P> + +<P> +Basil knitted his brows. +</P> + +<P> +'Venustus? It is with Venustus that Marcian lodges. Yes, Marcian is +here; I know not on what business. It would have been wiser,' he added, +'to have said nothing, to have gone away as before. When shall you be +ready?' +</P> + +<P> +'I am ready now. Why delay? What matter though we reach Surrentum by +night? The moon rises early.' +</P> + +<P> +'What reply was given to the messenger from the citadel?' +</P> + +<P> +'He learned, perforce, that we were preparing for a journey.' +</P> + +<P> +A moment's reflection and Basil decided to risk immediate departure; +delay and uncertainty were at all times hateful to him, and at the +present juncture intolerable. At once he quitted the house (not having +ventured to speak the name of Veranilda), and in an hour's time the +covered carriage from Puteoli, and another vehicle, were in waiting. +The baggage was brought out; then, as Basil stood in the hall, he saw +Aurelia come forward, accompanied by a slight female figure, whose +grace could not be disguised by the long hooded cloak which wrapped it +from head to foot, allowing not a glimpse of face. The young man +trembled, and followed. He saw the ladies step into the carriage, and +was himself about to mount his horse, when a military officer, attended +by three soldiers, stepped towards him, and, without phrase of +courtesy, demanded his name. Pallid, shaken with all manner of +emotions, Basil replied to this and several other inquiries, the result +being that the two vehicles were ordered to be driven to the citadel, +and he to go thither under guard. +</P> + +<P> +At the entrance to the citadel the carriage drew up and remained there +under guard. Basil was led in, and presently stood before the military +governor of Cumae; this was a Hun named Chorsoman, formerly one of +Belisarius's bodyguard. He spoke Latin barbarously; none the less was +his language direct and perspicuous. The Roman lady wished to quit +Cumae, where she had lived for some years; she purposed, moreover, to +take away with her a maiden of Gothic race, who, though not treated as +a captive, had been under observation since she was sent to dwell here +by Belisarius. This could not pass as a matter of small moment. +Plainly, permission to depart must be sought of the authorities, and +such permission, under the circumstances, could only be granted in +return for substantial payment—a payment in proportion to the lady's +rank. It was known that the senator Maximus had died, and report said +that his daughter inherited great wealth. The price of her passport +would be one thousand gold pieces. +</P> + +<P> +Basil knew that Aurelia had not, in the coffer she was taking away, a +quarter of this sum of money. He foresaw endless delay, infinite peril +to his hopes. Schooling a hot tongue to submissive utterance, he asked +that Aurelia might be consulted. +</P> + +<P> +'Speak with her yourself,' said the Hun, 'and bring her answer.' +</P> + +<P> +So Basil went forth, and, under the eyes of the guard, held converse +with his cousin. Aurelia was willing to give all the treasure she +carried with her—money, a few ornaments of gold and silver, two or +three vessels of precious metal—everything for immediate liberty; all +together she thought it might be the equivalent of half the sum +demanded. The rest she would swear to pay. This being reported to +Chorsoman, his hideous, ashen-grey countenance assumed a fierce +expression; he commanded that all the baggage on the vehicles should be +brought and opened before him; this was done. Whilst Basil, boiling +with secret rage, saw his cousin's possessions turned out on to the +floor a thought flashed into his mind. +</P> + +<P> +'I ought to inform your Sublimity,' he said, with all the indifference +he could assume, 'that the lady Aurelia despatched two days ago a +courier to Rome apprising the noble commandant Bessas of her father's +death, and of her intention to arrive in the city as soon as possible, +and to put her means at his disposal for the defence of Rome against +King Totila.' +</P> + +<P> +Chorsoman stared. +</P> + +<P> +'Is not this lady the widow of a Goth and a heretic?' +</P> + +<P> +'The widow of a Goth, yes, but no longer a heretic,' answered Basil +boldly, half believing what he said. +</P> + +<P> +He saw that he had spoken to some purpose. The Hun blinked his little +eyes, gazed greedily at the money, and was about to speak when a +soldier announced that a Roman named Marcian desired immediate +audience, therewith handing to the governor a piece of metal which +looked like a large coin. Chorsoman had no sooner glanced at this than +he bade admit the Roman; but immediately changing his mind, he went out +into another room. On his return, after a quarter of an hour, he +gruffly announced that the travellers were free to depart. +</P> + +<P> +'We humbly thank your Clemency,' said Basil, his heart leaping in joy. +'Does your Greatness permit me to order these trifles to be removed?' +</P> + +<P> +'Except the money,' replied Chorsoman, growling next moment, 'and the +vessels'; then snarling with a savage glance about him, 'and the +jewels.' +</P> + +<P> +Not till the gates of Cumae were behind them, and they had entered the +cavern in the hill, did Basil venture to recount what had happened. He +alighted from his horse, and walking through the gloom beside the +carriage he briefly narrated all in a whisper to Aurelia—all except +his own ingenious device for balking the Hun's cupidity. What means +Marcian had employed for their release he could but vaguely conjecture; +that would be learned a few days hence when his friend came again to +Surrentum. Aurelia's companion in the carriage, still hooded and +cloaked, neither moved nor uttered a word. +</P> + +<P> +At a distance of some twenty yards from the end of the tunnel, Felix, +riding in advance, checked his horse and shouted. There on the ground +lay a dead man, a countryman, who it was easy to see had been stabbed +to death, and perhaps not more than an hour ago. Quarrel or robbery, +who could say? An incident not so uncommon as greatly to perturb the +travellers; they passed on and came to Puteoli. Here the waiting +boatmen were soon found; the party embarked; the vessel oared away in a +dead calm. +</P> + +<P> +The long voyage was tedious to Basil only because Veranilda remained +unseen in the cabin; the thought of bearing her off; as though she were +already his own, was an exultation, a rapture. When he reflected on the +indignities he had suffered in the citadel rage burned his throat, and +Aurelia, all bitterness at the loss of her treasure, found words to +increase this wrath. A Hun! A Scythian savage! A descendant perchance +of the fearful Attila! He to represent the Roman Empire! Fit +instrument, forsooth, of such an Emperor as Justinian, whose boundless +avarice, whose shameful subjection to the base-born Theodora, were +known to every one. To this had Rome fallen; and not one of her sons +who dared to rise against so foul a servitude! +</P> + +<P> +'Have patience, cousin,' Basil whispered, bidding her with a glance +beware of the nearest boatman. 'There are some who will not grieve if +Totila—' +</P> + +<P> +'No more than that? To stand, and look on, and play the courtier to +whichever may triumph!' +</P> + +<P> +Basil muttered with himself. He wished he had been bred a soldier +instead of growing to manhood in an age when the nobles of Rome were +held to inglorious peace, their sole career that of the jurist And +Aurelia, brooding, saw him involved beyond recall in her schemes of +vengeance. +</P> + +<P> +The purple evening fell about them, an afterglow of sunset trembling +upon the violet sea. Above the heights of Capreae a star began to +glimmer; and lo, yonder from behind the mountains rose the great orb of +the moon. They were in the harbour at last, but had to wait on board +until a messenger could go to the village and a conveyance arrive. The +litter came, with a horse for Basil; Felix, together with Aurelia's +grey-headed porter and a female slave—these two the only servants that +had remained in the house at Cumae—followed on foot, and the baggage +was carried up on men's shoulders. +</P> + +<P> +'Decius!' cried Basil, in a passionate undertone, when he encountered +his kinsman in the vestibule. 'Decius! we are here—and one with us +whom you know not. Hush! Stifle your curiosity till to-morrow. Let them +pass.' +</P> + +<P> +So had the day gone by, and not once had he looked upon the face of +Veranilda. +</P> + +<P> +He saw her early on the morrow. Aurelia, though the whole villa was now +at her command, chose still to inhabit the house of Proba; and thither, +when the day was yet young, she summoned Basil. The room in which she +sat was hung with pictured tapestry, representing Christ and the +Apostles; crude work, but such as had pleased Faltonia Proba, whose +pious muse inspired her to utter the Gospel in a Virgilian canto. And +at Aurelia's side, bending over a piece of delicate needlework, sat the +Gothic maiden, clad in white, her flaxen hair, loosely held with silk, +falling behind her shoulders, shadowing her forehead, and half hiding +the little ears. At Basil's entrance she did not look up; at the first +sound of his voice she bent her head yet lower, and only when he +directly addressed her, asking, with all the gentleness his lips could +command, whether the journey had left much fatigue, did she show for a +moment her watchet eyes, answering few words with rare sweetness. +</P> + +<P> +'Be seated, dear my lord,' said his cousin, in the soft, womanly voice +once her habitual utterance. 'There has been so little opportunity of +free conversation, that we have almost, one might say, to make each +other's acquaintance yet. But I hope we may now enjoy a little leisure, +and live as becomes good kinsfolk.' +</P> + +<P> +Basil made such suitable answer as his agitation allowed. +</P> + +<P> +'And the noble Decius,' pursued Aurelia, 'will, I trust, bestow at +times a little of his leisure upon us. Perhaps this afternoon you could +persuade him to forget his books for half an hour? But let us speak, to +begin with, of sad things which must needs occupy us. Is it possible, +yet, to know when the ship will sail for Rome?' +</P> + +<P> +Aurelia meant, of course, the vessel which would convey her father's +corpse, and the words cast gloom upon Basil, who had all but forgotten +the duty that lay before him. He answered that a week at least must +pass before the sailing, and, as he spoke, kept his eyes upon +Veranilda, whose countenance—or so it seemed to him—had become +graver, perhaps a little sad. +</P> + +<P> +'Is it your purpose to stay long in Rome?' was Aurelia's next question, +toned with rather excessive simplicity. +</P> + +<P> +'To stay long?' exclaimed Basil. 'How can you think it? Perchance I +shall not even enter the city. At Portus, I may resign my duty into +other hands, and so straightway return.' +</P> + +<P> +There was a conflict in Aurelia's mind. Reverence for her father +approved the thought of his remains being transported under the +guardianship of Basil; none the less did she dread this journey, and +feel tempted to hinder it. She rose from her chair. +</P> + +<P> +'Let us walk into the sunshine,' she said. 'The morning is chilly.' +And, as she passed out into the court, hand in hand with Veranilda, 'O, +the pleasure of these large spaces, this free air, after the straight +house at Cumae! Do you not breathe more lightly, sweetest? Come into +Proba's garden, and I will show you where I sat with my broidery when I +was no older than you.' +</P> + +<P> +The garden was approached by a vaulted passage. A garden long +reconquered by nature; for the paths were lost in herbage, the seats +were overgrown with creeping plants, and the fountain had crumbled into +ruin. A high wall formerly enclosed it, but, in a shock of earthquake +some years ago, part of this had fallen, leaving a gap which framed a +lovely picture of the inland hills. Basil pulled away the trailing +leafage from a marble hemicycle, and, having spread his cloak upon it, +begged tremorously that Veranilda would rest. +</P> + +<P> +'That wall shall be rebuilt,' said Aurelia, and, as if to inspect the +ruin, wandered away. When she was distant not many paces, Basil bent to +his seated companion, and breathed in a passionate undertone: +</P> + +<P> +'My letter reached your hands, O fairest?' +</P> + +<P> +'I received it—I read it.' +</P> + +<P> +As she spoke, Veranilda's cheeks flushed as if in shame. +</P> + +<P> +'Will you reply, were it but one word?' +</P> + +<P> +Her head drooped lower. Basil seated himself at her side. +</P> + +<P> +'One word, O Veranilda! I worship you—my soul longs for you—say only +that you will be mine, my beloved lady, my wife!' +</P> + +<P> +Her blue eyes glistened with moisture as for an instant they met the +dark glow in his. +</P> + +<P> +'Do you know who I am?' she whispered. +</P> + +<P> +'You are Veranilda! You are beauty and sweetness and divine purity—' +</P> + +<P> +He sought her hand, but at this moment Aurelia turned towards them, and +the maiden, quivering, stood up. +</P> + +<P> +'Perhaps the sun is too powerful,' said Aurelia, with her tenderest +smile. 'My lily has lived so long in the shade.' +</P> + +<P> +They lingered a little on the shadowed side, Aurelia reviving memories +of her early life, then passed again under the vaulted arch. Basil, +whose eyes scarcely moved from Veranilda's face, could not bring +himself to address her in common words, and dreaded that she would soon +vanish. So indeed it befell. With a murmur of apology to her friend, +and a timid movement of indescribable grace in Basil's direction, she +escaped, like a fugitive wild thing, into solitude. +</P> + +<P> +'Why has she gone?' exclaimed the lover, all impatience. 'I must follow +her—I cannot live away from her! Let me find her again.' +</P> + +<P> +His cousin checked him. +</P> + +<P> +'I have to speak to you, Basil. Come where we can be private.' +</P> + +<P> +They entered the room where they had sat before, and Aurelia, taking up +the needlework left by Veranilda, showed it to her companion with +admiration. +</P> + +<P> +'She is wondrous at this art. In a contest with Minerva, would she not +have fared better than Arachne? This mourning garment which I wear is +of her making, and look at the delicate work; it was wrought four years +ago, when I heard of my brother's death—wrought in a few days. She was +then but thirteen. In all that it beseems a woman to know, she is no +less skilled. Yonder lies her cithern; she learnt to touch it, I scarce +know how, out of mere desire to soothe my melancholy, and I +suspect—though she will not avow it—that the music she plays is often +her own. In sickness she has tended me with skill as rare as her +gentleness; her touch on the hot forehead is like that of a flower +plucked before sunrise. Hearing me speak thus of her, what think you, O +Basil, must be my trust in the man to whom I would give her for wife?' +</P> + +<P> +'Can you doubt my love, O Aurelia?' cried the listener, clasping his +hands before him. +</P> + +<P> +'Your love? No. But your prudence, is that as little beyond doubt?' +</P> + +<P> +'I have thought long and well,' said Basil. +</P> + +<P> +Aurelia regarded him steadily. +</P> + +<P> +'You spoke with her in the garden just now. Did she reply?' +</P> + +<P> +'But few words. She asked me if I knew her origin, and blushed as she +spoke.' +</P> + +<P> +'It is her wish that I should tell you; and I will.' +</P> + +<P> +Scarce had Aurelia begun her narrative, when Basil perceived that his +own conjecture, and that of Marcian, had hit the truth. Veranilda was a +great-grandchild of Amalafrida, the sister of King Theodoric, being +born of the daughter of King Theodahad; and her father was that +Ebrimut, whose treachery at the beginning of the great war delivered +Rhegium into the hands of the Greeks. Her mother, Theodenantha, a woman +of noble spirit, scorned the unworthy Goth, and besought the conqueror +to let her remain in Italy, even as a slave, rather than share with +such a husband the honours of the Byzantine court. She won this grace +from Belisarius, and was permitted to keep with her the little maiden, +just growing out of childhood. But shame and grief had broken her +heart; after a few months of imprisonment at Cumae she died. And +Veranilda passed into the care of the daughter of Maximus. +</P> + +<P> +'For I too was a captive,' said Aurelia, 'and of the same religion as +the orphan child. By happy hazard I had become a friend of her mother, +in those days of sorrow; and with careless scorn our conquerors +permitted me to take Veranilda into my house. As the years went by, she +was all but forgotten; there came a new governor—this thievish +Hun—who paid no heed to us. I looked forward to a day when we might +quit Cumae and live in freedom where we would. Then something +unforeseen befell. Half a year ago, just when the air of spring began +to breathe into that dark, chill house, a distant kinsman of ours, who +has long dwelt in Byzantium—do you know Olybrius, the son of Probinus?' +</P> + +<P> +'I have heard his name.' +</P> + +<P> +'He came to me, as if from my father; but I soon discovered that he had +another mission, his main purpose being to seek for Veranilda. By whom +sent, I could not learn; but he told me that Ebrimut was dead, and that +his son, Veranilda's only brother, was winning glory in the war with +the Persians. For many days I lived in fear lest my pearl should be +torn from me. Olybrius it was, no doubt, who bade the Hun keep watch +upon us, and it can only have been by chance that I was allowed to go +forth unmolested when you led me hither the first time. He returned to +Byzantium, and I have heard no more. But a suspicion haunts my mind. +What if Marcian were also watching Veranilda?' +</P> + +<P> +'Marcian!' cried the listener incredulously. 'You do not know him. He +is the staunchest and frankest of friends. He knows of my love; we have +talked from heart to heart.' +</P> + +<P> +'Yet it was at his intercession that the Hun allowed us to go; why, you +cannot guess. What if he have power and motives which threaten +Veranilda's peace?' +</P> + +<P> +Basil exclaimed against this as the baseless fear of a woman. Had there +been a previous command from some high source touching the Gothic +maiden, Chorsoman would never have dared to sell her freedom. As to +Marcian's power, that was derived from the authorities at Rome, and +granted him for other ends; if he used it to release Veranilda, he +acted merely out of love to his friend, as would soon be seen. +</P> + +<P> +'I will hope so,' murmured Aurelia. 'Now you have heard what she +herself desired that I should tell you, for she could not meet your +look until you knew it. Her father's treachery is Veranilda's shame; +she saw her noble mother die for it, and it has made her mourning +keener than a common sorrow. I think she would never have dared to wed +a Goth; all true Goths, she believes in her heart, must despise her. It +is her dread lest you, learning who she is, should find your love +chilled.' +</P> + +<P> +'Call her,' cried Basil, starting to his feet. 'Or let me go to her. +She shall not suffer that fear for another moment. Veranilda! +Veranilda!' +</P> + +<P> +His companion retained and quieted him. He should see Veranilda ere +long. But there was yet something to be spoken of. +</P> + +<P> +'Have you forgotten that she is not of your faith?' +</P> + +<P> +'Do I love her, adore her, the less?' exclaimed Basil. 'Does she shrink +from me on that account?' +</P> + +<P> +'I know,' pursued his cousin, 'what the Apostle of the Gentiles has +said: "For the husband who believes not is sanctified by the wife, and +the wife who believes not is sanctified by the husband." None the less, +Veranilda is under the menace of the Roman law; and you, if it be known +that you have wedded her, will be in peril from all who serve the +Emperor—at least in dark suspicion; and will be slightly esteemed by +all of our house.' +</P> + +<P> +The lover paced about, and all at once, with a wild gesture, uttered +his inmost thought. +</P> + +<P> +'What if I care naught for those of our house? And what if the Emperor +of the East is of as little account to me? My country is not Byzantium, +but Rome.' +</P> + +<P> +Aurelia hushed his voice, but her eyes shone with stern gladness as she +stood before him, and took him by the hand, and spoke what he alone +could hear. +</P> + +<P> +'Then unite yourself in faith with those who would make Rome free. Be +one in religion with the brave Goths—with Veranilda.' +</P> + +<P> +He cast down his eyes and drew a deep breath. +</P> + +<P> +'I scarce know what that religion is, O Aurelia,' came from him +stammeringly. 'I am no theologian; I never cared to puzzle my head +about the mysteries which men much wiser than I declare to pass all +human understanding. Ask Decius if he can defend the faith of +Athanasius against that of the Arians; he will smile, and shake his +head in that droll way he has. I believe,' he added after a brief +hesitancy, 'in Christ and in the Saints. Does not Veranilda also?' +</P> + +<P> +The temptress drew back a little, seated herself; yielded to troublous +thought. It was long since she had joined in the worship of a +congregation, for at Cumae there was no Arian church. Once only since +her captivity had she received spiritual comfort from an Arian priest, +who came to that city in disguise. What her religion truly was she +could not have declared, for the memories of early life were sometimes +as strong in her as rancour against the faith of her enemies. Basil's +simple and honest utterance touched her conscience. She put an end to +the conversation, promising to renew it before long; whilst Basil, for +his part, went away to brood, then to hold converse with Decius. +</P> + +<P> +Through all but the whole of Theodoric's reign, Italy had enjoyed a +large toleration in religion: Catholics, Arians, and even Jews observed +their worship under the protection of the wise king. Only in the last +few years of his life did he commit certain acts of harshness against +his Catholic subjects, due to the wrath that was moved in him by a +general persecution of the Arians proclaimed at Byzantium. His Gothic +successors adhered to Theodoric's better principle, and only after the +subjugation of the land by Belisarius had Arianism in Italy been +formally condemned. Of course it was protected by the warring Goths: +Totila's victories had now once more extended religious tolerance over +a great part of the country; the Arian priesthood re-entered their +churches; and even in Rome the Greek garrison grew careless of the +reviving heresy. Of these things did Decius speak, when the distressed +lover sought his counsel. No one more liberal than Decius; but he bore +a name which he could not forget, and in his eyes the Goth was a +barbarian, the Gothic woman hardly above the level of a slave. That +Basil should take a Gothic wife, even one born of a royal line, seemed +to him an indignity. Withheld by the gentleness of his temper from +saying all he thought, he spoke only of the difficulties which would +result from such a marriage, and when, in reply, Basil disclosed his +mind, though less vehemently than to Aurelia, Decius fell into +meditation. He, too, had often reflected with bitterness on the results +of that restoration of Rome to the Empire which throughout the Gothic +dominion most of the Roman nobles had never ceased to desire; all but +was he persuaded to approve the statesmanship of Cassiodorus. +Nevertheless, he could not, without shrinking, see a kinsman pass over +to the side of Totila. +</P> + +<P> +'I must think,' he murmured. 'I must think.' +</P> + +<P> +He had not yet seen Veranilda. When, in the afternoon, Basil led him +into the ladies' presence, and his eyes fell upon that white-robed +loveliness, censure grew faint in him. Though a Decius, he was a man of +the sixth century after Christ; his mind conceived an ideal of human +excellence which would have been unintelligible to the Decii of old; in +his heart meekness and chastity had more reverence than perhaps he +imagined. He glanced at Basil; he understood. Though the future still +troubled him, opposition to the lover's will must, he knew, be idle. +</P> + +<P> +Several hours before, Basil had scratched on a waxed tablet a few +emphatic lines, which his cousin allowed to be transmitted to +Veranilda. They assured her that what he had learned could only—if +that were possible—increase his love, and entreated her to grant him +were it but a moment's speech after the formal visit, later in the day. +The smile with which she now met him seemed at once gratitude and +promise; she was calmer, and less timid. Though she took little part in +the conversation, her words fell very sweetly after the men's speech +and the self-confident tones of Aurelia; her language was that of an +Italian lady, but in the accent could be marked a slight foreignness, +which to Basil's ear had the charm of rarest music, and even to Decius +sounded not unpleasing. Under the circumstances, talk, confined to +indifferent subjects, could not last very long; as soon as it began to +flag, Decius found an excuse for begging permission to retire. As +though wishing for a word with him in confidence, Aurelia at the same +time passed out of the room into the colonnade. Basil and Veranilda +were left alone. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap06"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VI +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE EMPEROR'S COMMAND +</H3> + +<P> +His voice made tremulous music, inaudible a few paces away; his breath +was on her cheek; his eyes, as she gazed into them, seemed to envelop +her in their glow. +</P> + +<P> +'My fairest! Let me but touch your hand. Lay it for a moment in mine—a +pledge for ever!' +</P> + +<P> +'You do not fear to love me, O lord of my life?' +</P> + +<P> +The whisper made him faint with joy. +</P> + +<P> +'What has fear to do with love, O thou with heaven in thine eyes! what +room is there for fear in the heart where thy beauty dwells? Speak +again, speak again, my beloved, and bless me above all men that live!' +</P> + +<P> +'Basil! Basil! Utter my name once more. I never knew how sweet it could +sound.' +</P> + +<P> +'Nor I, how soft could be the sound of mine. Forgive me, O Veranilda, +that out of my love pain has come to you. You will not ever be sad +again? You will not think ever again of those bygone sorrows?' +</P> + +<P> +She bent her head low. +</P> + +<P> +'Can you believe in my truth, O Basil? Can <I>you</I> forget?' +</P> + +<P> +'All save the nobleness of her who bore you, sweet and fair one.' +</P> + +<P> +'Let <I>that</I> be ever in your thought,' said Veranilda, with a radiant +look. 'She sees me now; and my hope, your strength and goodness, bring +new joy to her in the life eternal.' +</P> + +<P> +'Say the word I wait for—whisper low—the word of all words.' +</P> + +<P> +'Out of my soul, O Basil, I love you!' +</P> + +<P> +As the sound trembled into silence, his lips touched hers. In the +golden shadow of her hair, the lily face flushed warm; yet she did not +veil her eyes, vouchers of a life's loyalty. +</P> + +<P> +When Aurelia entered the room again, she walked as though absorbed in +thought. +</P> + +<P> +'Decius tells me he must soon go to Rome,' were her words, in drawing +near to the lovers. +</P> + +<P> +Basil had heard of no such purpose. His kinsman, under the will of +Maximus, enjoyed a share in the annual revenue of this Surrentine +estate; moreover, he became the possessor of many books, which lay in +the Anician mansion of Rome, and it was his impatience, thought +Aurelia, to lay hands upon so precious a legacy, which might at any +time be put in danger by the events of the war, that prompted him to +set forth. +</P> + +<P> +'Might he not perform the duty you have undertaken?' she added in a +lower voice, as she met Basil's look. +</P> + +<P> +Veranilda did not speak, but an anxious hope dawned in her face. And +Basil saw it. +</P> + +<P> +'Have you spoken of it, cousin?' he asked. +</P> + +<P> +'The thought has but just come to me.' +</P> + +<P> +'Decius is not in good health. Thus late in the year, to travel by +sea—Yet the weather may be fair, the sea still; and then it would be +easier for him than the journey by land.' +</P> + +<P> +Basil spoke in a halting tone. He could not without a certain shame +think of revoking his promise to Petronilla, a very distinct promise, +in which natural obligation had part. Yet the thought of the journey, +of an absence from Veranilda, not without peril of many kinds, grew +terrible to him. He looked at Veranilda again, and smiled encouragement. +</P> + +<P> +The lady Petronilla had been wont to dine and sup in dignified +publicity, seated on the <I>sigma</I>, in the room which had seen so many +festivals, together with her male relatives and any guest who might be +at the villa; in her presence, no man permitted himself the recumbent +attitude, which indeed had been unusual save among the effeminate. But +Aurelia and her companion took their meals apart. This evening, Basil +and Decius supped almost in silence, each busy with his reflections. +They lingered over the wine, their attendants having left them, until +Decius, as if rousing himself from a dream, asked how long it was +likely to be before the ship could sail. Basil answered that the leaden +coffin would be ready within a few days (it was being made at Neapolis, +out of water-pipes which had served a villa in ruins), and after that +there would only be delay through wind and weather. +</P> + +<P> +'Are you greatly bent on going to Rome just now?' was the student's +next inquiry, a twinkle in his eyes as he spoke. +</P> + +<P> +'By Bacchus!' answered the other, handling his goblet. 'If I saw my way +to avoid it!' +</P> + +<P> +'I guessed as much. The suspicion came to me at a certain moment this +morning—a mere grain, which ever since has been growing <I>tanquam +favus</I>. I am not wont to consider myself as of much use, but is it not +just possible that, in this case, your humble kinsman might serve you?' +</P> + +<P> +'My good, my excellent, my very dear Decius!' broke from the listener. +'But would it not be with risk to your health?' +</P> + +<P> +'I would beg permission not to weigh anchor in a tempest, that's all. +The sea in its gentler moods I have never feared, and <I>alcyoneum +medicamen</I>, you know, in other words the sea-foam, has always been +recommended for freckles.' +</P> + +<P> +He touched his face, which was in deed much freckle-spotted, and Basil, +whose spirits rose each moment, gave a good-natured laugh. +</P> + +<P> +'One thing only,' added Decius seriously. 'Inasmuch as this charge is a +grave one, I would not undertake it without the consent of the ladies +Aurelia and Petronilla. Perchance, in respect for the honoured Maximus, +they would feel reluctant to see me take your place.' +</P> + +<P> +'O modest Decius!' exclaimed the other. 'Which, pray, carries the more +dignity, your name or mine?—not to speak of your learning and my +ignorance. As to Aurelia, I can ease your mind at once. She would not +dream of objecting.' +</P> + +<P> +'Then let us, to-morrow, beg audience of the pious lady at Surrentum, +and request her permission.' +</P> + +<P> +The proposal made Basil uncomfortable; but a visit of respect to +Petronilla was certainly due, and perhaps it would pass without +troublesome incident. He nodded assent. +</P> + +<P> +Early on the morrow they carried out their purpose. To the surprise of +both, Petronilla received them in her modest abode not ungraciously, +though with marked condescension; she gave them to understand that her +days, and much of her nights, passed in religious exercises, the names +of her kinsfolk not being omitted from her prayers; of the good bishop +she spoke almost tenderly, and with a humble pride related that she had +been able to ease a persistent headache from which his Sanctity +suffered. When Basil found an opportunity of reporting what had passed +between him and Decius, the lady's austere smile was for a moment +clouded; it looked as though storm might follow. But the smile +returned, with perhaps a slightly changed significance. Did Basil think +of remaining long at the villa? Ah, he could not say; to be sure, the +times were so uncertain. For her own part, she would start on her +journey as soon as the coffin was on board the ship. Indeed, she saw no +objection to the arrangement her dear nephew proposed; she only trusted +that the learned and amiable Decius, so justly esteemed by all, would +have a care of his health. Did he still take the infusion of marjoram +which she had prescribed for him? A holy man, newly returned from the +East, had deigned to visit her only yesterday, and had given her a +small phial of water from Rebekah's well; it was of priceless virtue, +and one drop of it had last evening restored to health and strength a +child that lay at the point of death. +</P> + +<P> +In the afternoon Basil was again permitted to see Veranilda, though not +alone. To her and to Aurelia he made known that Decius would willingly +undertake the voyage. After lingering for an hour in the vain hope that +Aurelia would withdraw, were it but for a moment, he went away and +scratched ardent words on his tablet. 'I will be in your garden,' he +concluded, 'just at sunrise to-morrow. Try, try to meet me there.' +</P> + +<P> +Scarcely had he despatched a servant with this when Felix announced to +him the arrival of Marcian. On fire with eagerness, Basil sped to greet +his friend. +</P> + +<P> +'Give me to drink,' were the traveller's first words. 'I have ridden +since before dawn, and have a tongue like leather.' +</P> + +<P> +Wine and grapes, with other refreshments, were set forth for him. +Marcian took up an earthenware jug full of spring water, and drank +deeply. His host then urged the wine, but it was refused; and as Basil +knew that one of his friend's peculiarities was a rigorous abstinence +at times from all liquor save the pure element, he said no more. +</P> + +<P> +'I have been at Nuceria,' Marcian continued, throwing himself on a +seat, 'with Venantius. What a man! He was in the saddle yesterday from +sunrise to sunset; drank from sunset to the third hour of the night; +rose before light this morning, gay and brisk, and made me ride with +him, so that I was all but tired out before I started on the road +hither. Venantius declares that he can only talk of serious things on +horseback.' +</P> + +<P> +'My uncle regarded him as a Roman turned barbarian,' said Basil. +</P> + +<P> +'Something of that, but such men have their worth and their place.' +</P> + +<P> +'We will talk about him at another time,' Basil interrupted. 'Remember +how we parted at Cumae and what happened afterwards. We are private +here; you can speak freely. How did you release us from the grip of the +Hun?' +</P> + +<P> +'I told you before, good Basil, that I was here to spy upon you; and be +sure that I did not undertake that office without exacting a proof of +the confidence of our lords at Rome. Something I carry with me which +has power over such dogs as Chorsoman.' +</P> + +<P> +'I saw that, best Marcian. But it did not avail to save my cousin +Aurelia from robbery.' +</P> + +<P> +'Nothing would, where Chorsoman was sure of a week's—nay, of an +hour's—impunity. But did he steal aught belonging to the Gothic +maiden?' +</P> + +<P> +'To Veranilda? She has but a bracelet and a ring, and those she was +wearing. They came from her mother, a woman of noblest heart, who, when +her husband Ebrimut played the traitor, and she was left behind in +Italy, would keep nothing but these two trinkets, which once were worn +by Amalafrida.' +</P> + +<P> +'You know all that now,' observed Marcian quietly. +</P> + +<P> +'The story of the trinkets only since an hour or two ago. That of +Veranilda's parentage I learned from Aurelia, Veranilda refusing to +converse with me until I knew.' +</P> + +<P> +'Since when you have conversed, I take it, freely enough.' +</P> + +<P> +'Good my lord,' replied Basil, with a look of some earnestness, 'let us +not jest on this matter.' +</P> + +<P> +'I am little disposed to do so, O fiery lover!' said Marcian, with a +return of his wonted melancholy. 'For I have that to tell you which +makes the matter grave enough. We were right, you see, in our guess of +Veranilda's origin; I could wish she had been any one else. Patience, +patience! You know that I left you here to go to Neapolis. There I +received letters from Rome, one of them from Bessas himself, and, by +strange hazard, the subject of it was the daughter of Ebrimut.' +</P> + +<P> +Basil made a gesture of repugnance. 'Nay, call her the daughter of +Theodenantha.' +</P> + +<P> +'As you will. In any case the granddaughter of a king, and not likely +to be quite forgotten by the royal family of her own race. Another +king's grandchild, Matasuntha, lives, as you know, at Byzantium, and +enjoys no little esteem at the Emperor's court; it is rumoured, indeed, +that her husband Vitiges, having died somewhere in battle, Matasuntha +is to wed a nephew of Justinian. This lady, I am told, desires to know +the daughter of Ebri—nay, then, of Theodenantha; of whom, it seems, a +report has reached her. A command of the Emperor has come to Bessas +that the maiden Veranilda, resident at Cumae, be sent to Constantinople +with all convenient speed. And upon me, O Basil, lies the charge of +seeking her in her dwelling, and of conveying her safely to Rome, where +she will be guarded until—' +</P> + +<P> +'Will be guarded!' echoed Basil fiercely. 'Nay, by the holy Peter and +Paul, that will she not! You are my friend, Marcian, and I hold you +dear, but if you attempt to obey this order—' +</P> + +<P> +Hand on dagger, and eyes glaring, the young noble had sprung to his +feet. Marcian did not stir; his head was slightly bent, and a sad smile +hovered about his lips. +</P> + +<P> +'O descendant of all the Anicii,' he replied, 'O son of many consuls, +remember the ancestral dignity. Time enough to threaten when you detect +me in an unfriendly act. Did I play the traitor to you at Cumae? With +the Hun this command of Justinian served you in good stead; Veranilda +would not otherwise have escaped so easily. Chorsoman, fat-witted as he +is, willingly believed that Veranilda and Aurelia, and you yourself, +were all in my net—which means the net of Bessas, whom he fears. Do +you also believe it, my good Basil?' +</P> + +<P> +For answer Basil embraced his friend, and kissed him on either cheek. +</P> + +<P> +'I know how this has come about,' he said; and thereupon related the +story of the visit of Olybrius to Aurelia six months ago. It seemed +probable that a report of Veranilda's beauty had reached Matasuntha, +who wished to adorn her retinue with so fair a remnant of the Amal +race. How, he went on to ask, would Marcian excuse himself at Rome for +his failure to perform this office? +</P> + +<P> +'Leave that to my ingenuity,' was the reply. 'Enough for you to dare +defiance of the Emperor's will.' +</P> + +<P> +Basil made a scornful gesture, which his friend noted with the same +melancholy smile. +</P> + +<P> +'You have no misgiving?' said Marcian. 'Think who it is you brave. +Imperator Caesar Flavius Justinianus—Africanus, Gothicus, Germanicus, +Vandalicus, and I know not what else—Pius, Felix, Inclytus, Victor ac +Triumphator, Semper Augustus—' +</P> + +<P> +The other laid a hand upon his shoulder. +</P> + +<P> +'Marcian, no word of this to Aurelia, I charge you!' +</P> + +<P> +'I have no desire to talk about it, be assured. But it is time that we +understood each other. Be plain with me. If you wed Veranilda how do +you purpose to secure your safety? Not, I imagine, by prostrating +yourself before Bessas. Where will you be safe from pursuit?' +</P> + +<P> +Basil reflected, then asked boldly: +</P> + +<P> +'Has not the King Totila welcomed and honourably entertained Romans who +have embraced his cause?' +</P> + +<P> +'Come now,' exclaimed the other, his sad visage lighting up, 'that is +to speak like a man! So, we <I>do</I> understand each other. Be it known +unto you then, O Basil, that at this moment the Gothic king is aware of +your love for Veranilda, and of your purpose to espouse her. You indeed +are a stranger to him, even in name; but not so the Anician house; and +an Anician, be assured, will meet with no cold reception in the camp of +the Goths.' +</P> + +<P> +'You enjoy the confidence of Totila?' asked Basil, wondering, and a +little confused. +</P> + +<P> +'Did I not tell you that I claimed the merit of playing traitor to both +sides?' +</P> + +<P> +Marcian spoke with a note of bitterness, looking his friend fixedly in +the face. +</P> + +<P> +'It is a noble treachery,' said Basil, seizing both his hands. 'I am +with you, heart and soul! Tell me more. Where is the king? Will he +march upon Rome?' +</P> + +<P> +'Neapolis will see him before Rome does. He comes slowly through +Samnium, making sure his conquest on the way. Let me now speak again of +Venantius. He would fain know you.' +</P> + +<P> +'He is one of ours?' +</P> + +<P> +'One of those true Romans who abhor the Eastern tyranny and see in the +Goth a worthy ally. Will you ride with me to-morrow to Nuceria?' +</P> + +<P> +'I cannot,' replied Basil, 'for I dare not leave Veranilda without +protection, after what you have told me.' +</P> + +<P> +'Why, then, Venantius must come hither.' +</P> + +<P> +Whilst the friends were thus conversing a courier rode forth from +Surrentum towards Neapolis. He bore a letter whereof the contents were +these:— +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +'To the holy and reverend deacon Leander, Petronilla's humble +salutation. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +'I am most punctually informed of all that passes at the villa. My +nephew goes not to Rome; his place will be taken by Decius. The reason +is that which I have already suggested to your Sanctity. Marcian has +arrived this afternoon, coming I know not whence, but I shall learn. I +suspect things of the darkest moment. Let your Sanctity pursue the +project with which heaven has inspired you. You shall receive, if +necessary, two missives every day. Humbly I entreat your prayers.' +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap07"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +HERESY +</H3> + +<P> +The Roman Empire, by confining privileges and honours to the senatorial +order, created a noble caste, and this caste, as Imperial authority +declined, became a power independent of the state, and a menace to its +existence. In Italy, by the end of the fifth century, the great system +of citizenship, with its principle of infinite devotion to the good of +the commonwealth, was all but forgotten. In matters of justice and of +finance the nobles were beginning to live by their own law, which was +that of the right of the strongest. Having ceased to hold office and +perform public services in the municipia, they became, in fact, rulers +of the towns situated on or near their great estates. Theodoric, +striving to uphold the ancient civility, made strenuous efforts to +combat this aristocratic predominance; yet on some points he was +obliged to yield to the tendency of the times, as when he forbade the +freedmen, serfs, and slaves on any estate to plead against their lord, +and so delivered the mass of the rural inhabitants of Italy to private +jurisdiction. The Gothic war of course hastened the downfall of +political and social order. The manners of the nobles grew violent in +lawlessness; men calling themselves senators, but having in fact +renounced that rank by permanent absence from Rome, and others who +merely belonged to senatorial houses, turned to fortifying their +villas, and to building castles on heights, whilst they gathered about +them a body of retainers, armed for defence or for aggression. +</P> + +<P> +Such a personage was Venantius, son of a senator of the same name, who, +under Theodoric, had attained the dignity of Patrician and what other +titular glories the time afforded. Venantius, the younger, coming into +possession of an estate between Neapolis and Salernum, here took up his +abode after the siege of Rome, and lived as seemed good to him, lord +over the little town of Nuceria, and of a considerable tract of +country, with a villa converted into a stronghold up on the mountain +side. Having suffered wrongs at the hands of the Imperial +conquerors—property of his in Rome had been seized—he heard with +satisfaction of the rise of Totila, and, as soon as the king's progress +southward justified such a step, entered into friendly communication +with the Goth, whom he invited to come with all speed into Campania, +where Salernum, Neapolis, Cumae, would readily fall into his hands. +Marcian, on his double mission of spy in the Greek service and friend +of the Goths, had naturally sought out Venantius; and the description +he gave to Basil of the fortress above Nuceria filled the listener with +enthusiasm. +</P> + +<P> +'I would I could live in the same way,' Basil exclaimed. 'And why not? +My own villa in Picenum might be strengthened with walls and towers. We +have stone enough, and no lack of men to build.' +</P> + +<P> +Yet as he spoke a misgiving betrayed itself on his countenance. +Consciously or not, he had always had before him a life at Rome, the +life which became a Roman, as distinguished from a barbarian. But the +need to seek security for Veranilda again became vivid to his mind. At +Rome, clearly, he could not live with his wife until the Goths had +reconquered the city, which was not likely to happen soon. His means +were represented chiefly by the Arpinum estate, which he had inherited +from his father; in Rome he had nothing but his mansion on the Caelian. +The treasure at his command, a considerable sum, he had brought away in +a strong box, and it was now more than doubled in value by what fell to +him under the will of Maximus—money to be paid out of the great coffer +which the senator had conveyed hither. As they talked, Marcian urged +upon him a close friendship with Venantius, in whose castle he would be +welcomed. Here at Surrentum he could not long rest in safety, for +Chorsoman might at any time have his suspicions awakened by learning +the delay of Veranilda's journey to Rome, and the news of her marriage +could not be prevented from spreading. +</P> + +<P> +So Basil lay through an anxious hour or two before sleep fell upon him +to-night. He resolved to change the habits of his life, to shake off +indolence and the love of ease, to fortify himself with vigorous +exercises, and become ready for warfare. It was all very well for an +invalid, like Decius, to nurse a tranquil existence, unheeding the +temper of the times. A strong and healthy man had no right to lurk away +from the streaming flood of things; it behoved him to take his part in +strife and tumult, to aid in re-establishing a civic state. This +determination firmly grasped, he turned to think of the hoped-for +meeting with Veranilda in the morning, and gentler emotions lulled him +into dreams. +</P> + +<P> +At dawn he bestirred himself. The gallery outside his chamber was +lighted with a hanging lamp, and at a little distance sounded the +footstep of the watchman, who told him that the morning was fair, and, +at his bidding, opened a door which admitted to the open terrace +overlooking the sea. Having stepped forth, Basil stood for a moment +sniffing the cool air with its scent from the vineyards, and looking at +the yellow rift in the eastern sky; then he followed a path which +skirted the villa's outward wall and led towards the dwelling of +Aurelia. Presently he reached the ruined wall of the little garden, and +here a voice challenged him, that of a servant on watch until sunrise. +</P> + +<P> +'It is well,' he replied. 'I will relieve you for this last half hour; +go to your rest.' +</P> + +<P> +But the slave hesitated. He had strictest orders, and feared to disobey +them even at this bidding. +</P> + +<P> +'You are an honest fellow,' said Basil, 'and the lady Aurelia shall +know of your steadfastness. But get you gone; there is no danger whilst +I am here.' +</P> + +<P> +Impatiently he watched the man retire, then stood just within the gap +of the wall, and waited with as much fear as hope. It might be that +Veranilda would not venture forth without speaking to Aurelia, who +might forbid the meeting; or, if she tried to steal out, she might be +detected and hindered; perhaps she would fear to pass under the eyes of +a watchman or other servant who might be in her way. He stamped +nervously, and turned to look for a moment in the outward direction. +This little villa stood on the edge of a declivity falling towards the +sea; a thicket of myrtles grew below. At the distance of half a mile +along the coast, beyond a hollow wooded with ilex, rose a temple, which +time and the hand of man had yet spared; its whiteness glimmered +against a sky whose cloudless dusk was warming with a reflection of the +daybreak. An influence in the scene before him, something he neither +understood nor tried to understand, held him gazing longer than he +supposed, and with a start he heard his name spoken by the beloved +voice. Close to him stood Veranilda. She was cloaked and hooded, so +that he could hardly see her face; but her white hands were held out +for his. +</P> + +<P> +Heart to heart, mouth to mouth, they whispered. To be more private, +Basil drew her without the garden. Veranilda's eyes fixed themselves +upon the spreading glory of the east; and it moved her to utterance. +</P> + +<P> +'When I was a child,' she said, 'at Ravenna, I gazed once at the +sunrise, and behold, in the rays which shot upwards stood an angel, a +great, beautiful angel, with wings of blue, and a garment which shone +like gold, and on his head was a wreath of I know not what flowers. I +ran to tell my mother, but when she came, alas! the angel had vanished. +No one could tell me certainly what the vision meant. Often I have +looked and hoped to see the angel again, but he has never come.' +</P> + +<P> +Basil listened without a doubt, and murmured soft words. Then he asked +whether Aurelia knew of this meeting; but Veranilda shook her head. +</P> + +<P> +'I durst not speak. I so feared to disappoint you. This night I have +hardly slept, lest I should miss the moment. Should I not return very +soon, O Basil?' +</P> + +<P> +'You shall; though your going will make the sky black as when Auster +blows. But it is not for long. A few days—' +</P> + +<P> +He broke off with the little laugh of a triumphing lover. +</P> + +<P> +'A few days?' responded Veranilda, timidly questioning. +</P> + +<P> +'We wait only until that dark ship has sailed for Rome.' 'Does Aurelia +know that you purpose it so soon?' asked Veranilda. +</P> + +<P> +'Why? Has she seemed to you to wish otherwise?' +</P> + +<P> +'She has never spoken of it.—And afterwards? Shall we remain here, +Basil?' +</P> + +<P> +'For no long time. Here I am but a guest. We must dwell where I am lord +and you lady of all about us.' +</P> + +<P> +He told her of his possessions, of the great house in Rome with the +villa at Arpinum. Then he asked her, playfully, but with a serious +purpose in his mind, which of the two she would prefer for an abode. +</P> + +<P> +'I have no choice but yours,' she replied. 'Where it seems good to my +dear lord to dwell, there shall I be at rest.' +</P> + +<P> +'We must be safe against our enemies,' said Basil, with graver +countenance. +</P> + +<P> +'Our enemies?' +</P> + +<P> +'Has not Aurelia talked to you of the war? You know that the Gothic +king is conquering all before him, coming from the north?' +</P> + +<P> +Veranilda looked into her lover's face with a tender anxiety. +</P> + +<P> +'And you fear him, O Basil? It is he that is our enemy?' +</P> + +<P> +'Not so, sweetest. No foe of mine is he who wears the crown of +Theodoric. They whom I fear and abhor are the slaves of Justinian, the +robber captains who rule at Ravenna and in Rome.' +</P> + +<P> +As she heard him, Veranilda trembled with joy. She caught his hand, and +bent over it, and kissed it. +</P> + +<P> +'Had I been the enemy of Totila,' said Basil, 'could you still have +loved me as a wife should love?' +</P> + +<P> +'I had not asked myself,' she answered, 'for it was needless. When I +look on you, I think neither of Roman nor of Goth.' +</P> + +<P> +Basil spoke of his hope that Rome might be restored to the same freedom +it had enjoyed under the great king. Then they would dwell together in +the sacred city. That, too, was Veranilda's desire; for on her ear the +name of Rome fell with a magic sound; all her life she had heard it +spoken reverentially, with awe, yet the city itself she had never seen. +Rome, she knew, was vast; there, it seemed to her, she would live +unobserved, unthought of save by him she loved. Seclusion from all +strangers, from all who, learning her origin, would regard her +slightingly, was what her soul desired. +</P> + +<P> +Day had broken; behind the mountains there was light of the sun. Once +more they held each other heart to heart, and Veranilda hastened +through the garden to regain her chamber. Basil stood for some minutes +lost in a delicious dream; the rising day made his face beautiful, his +eyes gleamed with an unutterable rapture. At length he sighed and awoke +and looked about him. At no great distance, as though just issued from +the ilex wood, moved a man's figure. It approached very slowly, and +Basil watched until he saw that the man was bent as if with age, and +had black garments such as were worn by wandering mendicant monks. +Carelessly he turned, and went his way back to the villa. +</P> + +<P> +An hour later, Aurelia learnt that a 'holy man,' a pilgrim much travel +worn, was begging to be admitted to her. She refused to see him. Still +he urged his entreaty, declaring that he had a precious gift for her +acceptance, and an important message for her ear. At length he was +allowed to enter the atrium, and Aurelia saw before her a man in black +monkish habit, his body bent and tremulous, but evidently not with age, +for his aspect otherwise was that of middle life. What, she asked +briefly and coldly, was his business with her? Thereupon the monk drew +from his bosom a small wrappage of tissues, which when unfolded +disclosed a scrap of something hairy. +</P> + +<P> +'This, noble lady,' said the monk, in a voice reverently subdued, 'is +from the camel-hair garment of Holy John the Baptist. I had it of a +hermit in the Egyptian desert, who not many days after I quitted him +was for his sanctity borne up to heaven by angels, and knew not death.' +</P> + +<P> +Aurelia viewed the relic with emotion. +</P> + +<P> +'Why,' she asked, 'do you offer it to me?' +</P> + +<P> +The monk drew a step nearer and whispered: +</P> + +<P> +'Because I know that you, like him from whom I received it, are of the +true faith.' +</P> + +<P> +Aurelia observed him closely. His robe was ragged and filthy; his bare +feet were thick with the dust of the road; his visage, much begrimed, +wore an expression of habitual suffering, and sighs as of pain +frequently broke from him. The hand by which he supported himself on a +staff trembled as with weakness. +</P> + +<P> +'You are not a presbyter?' she said in an undertone, after a glance at +his untonsured head. +</P> + +<P> +'I am unworthy of the meanest order in the Church. In pilgrimings and +fastings I do penance for a sin of youth. You see how wasted is my +flesh.' +</P> + +<P> +'What, then,' asked Aurelia, 'was the message you said you bore for me?' +</P> + +<P> +'This. Though I myself have no power to perform the sacraments of our +faith, I tend upon one who has. He lies not far from here, like myself +sick and weary, and, because of a vow, may not come within the +precincts of any dwelling. In Macedonia, oppressed by our persecutors, +he was long imprisoned, and so sorely tormented that, in a moment when +the Evil One prevailed over his flesh, he denied the truth. This sin +gave him liberty, but scarce had he come forth when a torment of the +soul, far worse than that of his body, fell upon him. He was delivered +over to the Demon, and, being yet alive, saw about him the fires of +Gehenna. Thus, for a season, did he suffer things unspeakable, +wandering in desert places, ahungered, athirst, faint unto death, yet +not permitted to die. One night of storm, he crept for shelter into the +ruins of a heathen temple. Of a sudden, a dreadful light shone about +him, and he beheld the Demon in the guise of that false god, who fell +upon him and seemed like to slay him. But Sisinnius—so is the holy man +named—strove in prayer and in conjuration, yea, strove hours until the +crowing of the cock, and thus sank into slumber. And while he slept, an +angel of the Most High appeared before him, and spoke words which I +know not. Since then, Sisinnius wanders from land to land, seeking out +the temples of the heathen which have not been purified, and passing +the night in strife with the Powers of Darkness, wherein he is ever +victorious.' +</P> + +<P> +With intent look did Aurelia listen to this narrative. At its close, +she asked eagerly: +</P> + +<P> +'This man of God has sent you to me?' +</P> + +<P> +'Moved by a vision—for in the sleep which follows upon his struggle it +is often granted him to see beyond this world. He bids you resist +temptation, and be of good courage.' +</P> + +<P> +'Know you what this bidding means?' inquired the awed woman, gazing +into the monk's eyes till they fell. +</P> + +<P> +'I know nothing. I am but a follower of the holy Sisinnius—an unworthy +follower.' +</P> + +<P> +'May I not speak with him?' +</P> + +<P> +The monk had a troubled look. +</P> + +<P> +'I have told you, lady, that he must not, by reason of his vow, enter a +human dwelling.' +</P> + +<P> +'But may I not go to him?' she urged. 'May I not seek him in his +solitude, guided by you?' +</P> + +<P> +To this, said the monk, he could give no reply until he had spoken with +Sisinnius. He promised to do so, and to return, though he knew not at +what hour, nor even whether it would be this day. And, after demanding +many assurances that he would come again as speedily as might be, +Aurelia allowed the messenger to depart. +</P> + +<P> +Meanwhile Basil and Marcian have spent an hour in talk, the result of +which was a decision that Marcian should again repair to the stronghold +of Venantius, and persuade him to come over to Surrentum. When his +friend had ridden forth Basil sought conversation with Aurelia, whom he +found in a mood unlike any she had yet shown to him, a mood of dreamy +trouble, some suppressed emotion appearing in her look and in her +speech. He began by telling her of Venantius, but this seemed to +interest her less than he had expected. +</P> + +<P> +'Cousin,' he resumed, 'I have a double thought in desiring that +Venantius should come hither. It is not only that I may talk with him +of the war, and learn his hopes, but that I may secure a safe retreat +for Veranilda when she is my wife, and for you, dear cousin, if you +desire it.' +</P> + +<P> +He spoke as strongly as he could without revealing the secret danger, +of the risks to which they would all be exposed when rumours of his +marriage reached the governor of Cumae, or the Greeks in Neapolis. +Until the Goths reached Campania, a Roman here who fell under suspicion +of favouring them must be prepared either to flee or to defend himself. +Defence of this villa was impossible even against the smallest body of +soldiers, but within the walls, raised and fortified by Venantius, a +long siege might be safely sustained. +</P> + +<P> +'It is true,' said Aurelia at length, as if rousing herself from her +abstraction, 'that we must think of safety. But you are not yet wedded.' +</P> + +<P> +'A few days hence I shall be.' +</P> + +<P> +'Have you forgotten,' she resumed, meeting his resolute smile, 'what +still divides you from Veranilda?' +</P> + +<P> +'You mean the difference of religion. Tell me, did that stand in the +way of your marriage with a Goth?' +</P> + +<P> +She cast down her eyes and was silent. +</P> + +<P> +'Was your marriage,' Basil went on, 'blessed by a Catholic or by an +Arian presbyter?' +</P> + +<P> +'By neither,' replied Aurelia gently. +</P> + +<P> +'Then why may it not be so with me and Veranilda? And so it shall be, +lady cousin,' he added cheerily. 'Our good Decius will be gone; we +await the sailing of the ship; but you and Marcian, and perhaps +Venantius, will be our witnesses.' +</P> + +<P> +For the validity of Christian wedlock no religious rite was necessary: +the sufficient, the one indispensable, condition was mutual consent. +The Church favoured a union which had been sanctified by the oblation +and the blessing, but no ecclesiastical law imposed this ceremony. As +in the days of the old religion, a man wedded his bride by putting the +ring upon her finger and delivering her dowry in a written document, +before chosen witnesses. Aurelia knew that even as this marriage had +satisfied her, so would it suffice to Veranilda, whom a rapturous love +made careless of doctrinal differences: She perceived, moreover, that +Basil was in no mood for religious discussion; there was little hope +that he would consent to postpone his marriage on such an account; yet +to convert Basil to 'heresy' was a fine revenge she would not willingly +forego, her own bias to Arianism being stronger than ever since the +wrong she believed herself to have suffered at the hands of the deacon, +and the insult cast at her by her long-hated aunt. After years of +bitterness, her triumph seemed assured. It was much to have inherited +from her father, to have expelled Petronilla; but the marriage of Basil +with a Goth, his renunciation of Catholicism, and with it the Imperial +cause, were greater things, and together with their attainment she +foredreamt the greatest of all, Totila's complete conquest of Italy. +She saw herself mistress in the Anician palace at Rome, commanding vast +wealth, her enemies mute, powerless, submissive before her. Then, if it +seemed good to her, she would again wed, and her excited imagination +deigned to think of no spouse save him whose alliance would make her +royal. +</P> + +<P> +Providential was the coming of the holy Sisinnius. Beyond doubt he had +the gift of prophecy. From him she would not only receive the +consolations of religion, but might learn what awaited her. Very slowly +passed the hours until the reappearance of the black monk. He came when +day was declining, and joyfully she learnt that Sisinnius permitted her +to visit him; it must be on the morrow at the second hour, the place a +spot in the ilex wood, not far away, whither the monk would guide her. +But she must come alone; were she accompanied, even at a distance, by +any attendant, Sisinnius would refuse to see her. To all the conditions +Aurelia readily consented, and bade the monk meet her at the appointed +hour by the breach in her garden wall. +</P> + +<P> +On the morrow there was no glory of sunrise; clouds hung heavy, and a +sobbing wind shook the dry leaves of the vine. But at the second hour, +after pretence of idling about the garden, Aurelia saw approach the +black, bowed figure, with a gesture bade him go before, and followed. +She was absent not long enough to excite the remark of her household. +In going forth she had been pale with agitation; at her return she had +a fire in her cheeks, a lustre in her eyes, which told of hopes +abundantly fulfilled. At once she sought Veranilda, to whom she had not +yet spoken of the monk's visit. At this juncture the coming even of an +ordinary priest of the Arian faith would have been more than welcome to +them, living as they perforce did without office or sacrament; but +Sisinnius, declared Aurelia, was a veritable man of God, one who had +visions and saw into the future, one whom merely to behold was a sacred +privilege. She had begged his permission to visit him again, with +Veranilda, and he had consented; but a few days must pass before that, +as the holy man was called away she knew not whither. When he summoned +them they must go forth in early morning, to a certain cave near at +hand, where Sisinnius would say mass and administer to them the +communion. Hearing such news, Veranilda gladdened. +</P> + +<P> +'Will the holy man reveal our fate to us?' she asked, with a child's +simplicity. +</P> + +<P> +'To me he has already uttered a prophetic word,' answered Aurelia, 'but +I may not repeat it, no, not even to you. Enough that it has filled my +soul with wonder and joy.' +</P> + +<P> +'May that joy also be mine!' said Veranilda, pressing her hands +together. +</P> + +<P> +This afternoon, when Basil sat with her and Aurelia, she took her +cithern, and in a low voice sang songs she had heard her mother sing, +in the days before shame and sorrow fell upon Theodenantha. There were +old ballads of the Goths, oftener stern than tender, but to the +listeners, ignorant of her tongue, Veranilda's singing made them sweet +as lover's praise. One little song was Greek; it was all she knew of +that language, and the sole inheritance that had come to her from her +Greek-loving grandparent, the King Theodahad. +</P> + +<P> +Auster was blowing; great lurid clouds rolled above the dark green +waters, and at evening rain began to fall. Through the next day, and +the day after that, the sky still lowered; there was thunder of waves +upon the shore; at times a mist swept down from the mountains, which +enveloped all in gloom. To Basil and Veranilda it mattered nothing. +Where they sat together there was sunshine, and before them gleamed an +eternity of cloudless azure. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap08"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VIII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE SNARE +</H3> + +<P> +Meanwhile all was made ready for the sailing of the ship. Coffined in +lead, the body of Maximus awaited only a return of fine weather for its +conveyance to the vessel. When at length calm fell upon the sea, and +after a still night of gentle rain the day broke radiantly, all +Surrentum was in movement between church and harbour. Mass having been +said, the bishop himself led the procession down the hollow way and +through the chasm in the cliffs seaward, whilst psalms were chanted and +incense burnt. Carried in her litter, Petronilla followed the bier; +beside her walked Basil and Decius. Only by conscious effort could +these two subdue their visages to a becoming sadness; for Basil thought +of his marriage, Decius of Rome and his library. Nor did Petronilla +wear an aspect of very profound gloom; at moments she forgot herself, +and a singular animation appeared on her proud features; it was as +though some exultancy took hold of her mind. +</P> + +<P> +That Aurelia held apart, that the daughter gave no testimony of +reverence for a father's remains, caused such murmuring in the crowd of +Surrentines: her heresy seemed to be made more notorious, more +abominable, by this neglect. At Surrentum, Arianism had never been +known; no Goth had ever dwelt here; and since Aurelia's arrival public +opinion had had time to gather force against her. It was believed that +she had driven forth with insults the most noble Petronilla, that +exemplar of charity and of a saintly life. Worse still was the rumour, +now generally believed, that the Senator's daughter had obtained her +inheritance by wicked hypocrisy, by a false show of return to the true +faith. Being herself so evil, it was not to be wondered that she +corrupted those who fell under her influence; the young lord Basil, for +instance, who, incredible as it sounded, was said to be on the point of +espousing a Gothic damsel, a mysterious attendant upon Aurelia, of whom +strange stories were rife. Talk of these things made no little +agitation in the town when ceremonies were over and the coffin had been +embarked. The generality threw up their hands, and cried shame, and +asked why the bishop did not take some action in so grave a scandal. +But here and there folk whispered together in a different tone, with +winkings and lips compressed, and nods significant of menace. Patience! +Wait a day or two, and they would see what they would see. Heaven was +not regardless of iniquity. +</P> + +<P> +Scarce had the ship weighed anchor, to be wafted across the bay by a +gentle wind, when Petronilla started on her land journey for Rome. The +great chariot, the baggage, the servants riding, made fresh commotion +in Surrentum; many accompanied the great lady along the winding road +until they were weary and their curiosity satisfied. To this obsequious +escort Petronilla uttered certain words which before evening were +repeated throughout the town. 'Let us forgive our enemies,' she said, +with that air of hers, at once so grand and so devout—'let us forgive +our enemies, but let us omit no means, however rigorous, of saving +their souls'; and of those who reported the saying, some winked and +nodded more significantly than ever. +</P> + +<P> +Just before sunset on this same day there was trampling of hoofs along +the road ascending to the villa, as two horsemen, with a dozen +followers, some on horses, some on mules, rode up. Summoned to the +atrium, Basil greeted the return of Marcian, and looked with curiosity +at the man standing beside him, who could be no other than Venantius. A +tall and comely man, wearing a casque and a light breastplate, his +years not more than thirty, rather slim, yet evidently muscular and +vigorous, he had a look of good-humoured determination, and the tones +in which he replied to Basil's welcome were those of a born commander. +In contrast with his host's elaborate courtesy, the manners of +Venantius might have been judged a trifle barbarous, but this bluntness +was no result of defective breeding; had he chosen, he could have +exchanged lofty titles and superlatives of compliment with any expert +in such fashionable extravagances, but he chose a plainer speech, in +keeping with his martial aspect. First of all he excused himself for +having arrived with so many followers. +</P> + +<P> +'But our good Marcian,' he added, clapping a hand on his companion's +shoulder, 'had a story to tell me of a fair lady and fairer +maiden—though not long to bear the name, she—who may belike need +protection as well as honourable attendance; whereas you, noble Basil, +have thought little of the use of arms, and probably keep no very +warlike retinue at command. So I mounted half a dozen bowmen, who will +ride and shoot with any Hun, and as many stout fellows who can wield +lance or throw javelin, and here they are at your gates. Have no fear +for the girls within doors; my men are both sober and chaste by +prudence, if not by nature. There was a time when I had to make an +example here and there'—he scowled a smile—'but now they know me.' +</P> + +<P> +Basil replied as became him, not without some slight imitation of his +guest's bluff manliness. Admiring, as he did, above all things, that +which savoured of heroism, he was strongly impressed by Venantius, +whose like, among natives of Rome, he had not yet beheld, who shone +before him, indeed, in a nobler light than any man he had seen since +the days when he worshipped Belisarius. Arrangements were speedily made +for the entertainment of the little armed troop, and as dusk gathered +the host and his two guests sat down to supper. Whilst the meal was +being made ready, Basil had found opportunity of speech with Aurelia, +who heard with great satisfaction of the coming of Venantius, and +promised to receive him early on the morrow. +</P> + +<P> +'The lady Aurelia's name is not unknown to me,' said Venantius, when +Basil spoke of her at table. He would have added a remark, but paused +with a look at the attendant slaves. 'Her illustrious father,' he went +on, 'I spoke with when I was young. But for the illness of Maximus I +should have ventured hither during this year gone by, notwithstanding +some difference in our view of things; or rather, to make sure whether +there really was as much difference as I supposed.' +</P> + +<P> +'Perchance you would have found that there was not,' said Basil. +'Certainly not towards the end.' +</P> + +<P> +'May his soul repose! He had the bearing which suited with his noble +name—a true Anicius to look upon. If Rome have need in these times of +another breed of citizens—and who can gainsay that?—she will not +forget such men as he, who lived with dignity when they could do no +more. You, my dear lord'—he turned towards Basil—'Anicius though you +are, see another way before you, what?' +</P> + +<P> +They talked far into the night. When he spoke of the Imperial +conquerors—'Greeklings' he called them—Venantius gave vent to his +wrath and scorn. The Goths were right when they asked what had ever +come out of Greece save mimes and pirates; land-thieves they might have +added, for what else were the generals of Justinian with their +pillaging hordes? They dared to speak of the Goths as barbarians—these +Herules, Isaurians, Huns, Armenians, and Teutons!—of the Goths, whose +pride it had so long been to defend Roman civilisation, and even to +restore the Roman edifices. What commander among them could compare +with Totila, brave, just, generous? +</P> + +<P> +'By the Holy Mother!' he cried, with a great gesture, 'if I were not +wedded to a wife I love, who has borne me already three boys as healthy +as wolf cubs, I would follow your example, O Basil, and take to myself +a blue-eyed daughter of that noble race. They are heretics, why yes, +but as far as I can make out they pray much as I do, and by heaven's +grace may yet be brought to hold the truth as to the Three-in-One. When +they had the power, did they meddle with our worship? Let every man +believe as he list, say I, so that he believe sincerely, and trust God +against the devil.' +</P> + +<P> +In the stillness of their secluded abode, Aurelia and Veranilda went to +rest earlier than usual this evening, for they were to arise before the +dawn. This afternoon they had been visited by the black monk, who +announced the return of Sisinnius, and invited them to the promised +mass on the morrow; and such was their agitation in the foretaste of +this religious ecstasy, as well as in the hope of having their future +revealed to them, that neither slept much during the night. Not long +after the crowing of the first cock, when all was silent and dark, +Aurelia stepped, with a lamp in her hand, into the maiden's chamber. +</P> + +<P> +'Is it the hour?' whispered Veranilda, raising herself. +</P> + +<P> +'Not yet. I have had a troubled dream. I dreamt that this night the +holy Sisinnius had fought with the demon, and had been worsted. O +Veranilda!'—the speaker's voice trembled—'what may this mean?' +</P> + +<P> +'Dearest lady,' answered the other reassuringly, 'may it not be a +temptation of the demon himself; who at times is permitted to tempt +even the holiest?' +</P> + +<P> +'And you, sweet? You have not dreamt?' +</P> + +<P> +'Only of Basil,' answered Veranilda, with a smile that asked pardon for +her happiness. +</P> + +<P> +They talked over the disquieting vision, whilst the little lamp-flame, +wavering in breaths of air, cast strange shadows about the room. On the +walls were faded frescoes, one of which represented the poetess Proba +on her knees before St. Agnes. Impelled by her fears, Aurelia of a +sudden knelt before this picture, and prayed silently to the virgin +martyr. Then Veranilda rose from the couch, and knelt beside her. +Having solaced their souls, they kissed each other tenderly. +</P> + +<P> +'You are not afraid,' whispered Veranilda, 'that Basil may be in the +garden when we go forth?' +</P> + +<P> +'Basil? Ah, little rogue, have you betrayed yourself?' +</P> + +<P> +'Of a truth, dearest lady, he has been there more than once, but not, +oh not so early!' +</P> + +<P> +'Nay, I hope not,' said Aurelia. 'It were scarce maidenly—' +</P> + +<P> +'Never, never before the east had broken for the dayspring! Never, I +swear to you, O my heart's friend!' +</P> + +<P> +'Then there is small fear of his interrupting us this morning; all the +more that he must have sat late with his friends, talking of many +things. I am glad of the coming of this brave Venantius; it puts an end +to every peril.' +</P> + +<P> +They conversed on this encouraging theme until Aurelia's ear caught the +sound of a footfall in the gallery. She stepped forth and encountered a +female slave, who told her that there wanted two hours to dawn; it was +time, then, to set forth and a few minutes saw them ready. In the +garden they were met by the watchman, who carried a lantern. He, having +merely been ordered to stand in readiness at this hour and being +ignorant of his mistress's intention, showed astonishment when he saw +Aurelia and her companion bent on going out. He took it for granted +that he was to accompany them. But at this moment there appeared in the +rays of the lantern a black figure, which had entered by the breach in +the wall. Aurelia whispered a few words to her watchman, whose religion +was the same as hers, and at once he dropped to his knees. +</P> + +<P> +'Peace be with you, good brother,' said the monk, in his feeble voice, +as he drew a lantern from beneath his cloak. You may not accompany us; +but have no fear. The way is short.' +</P> + +<P> +Forthwith he turned, and Aurelia, holding Veranilda's hand, followed +where he lighted the way. For a few minutes they pursued a level path, +then, passing between myrtles, began to descend the seaward slope. The +ground was rough, but the monk, going before, marked the places for +their footing. A few minutes thus, and they reached trees, black +against a sky sown with stars and overshimmered by a wasted moon. +Veranilda, who was trembling, clung to her companion's arm. +</P> + +<P> +'How much further?' asked Aurelia, striving to make her voice firm. +'This is not the way by which I came before.' +</P> + +<P> +'Scarce fifty steps. See you not the light yonder?' +</P> + +<P> +Among the trees was perceptible a faint shining. Hand tight clasped in +hand, the two moved forward over thick herbage, and still descended. +They drew near to the light, and saw that it issued from a little cave. +Within stood a man, bent as if with age and infirmities, his face +half-hidden under a cowl. When the visitors were near, he stretched +forth his arms, murmuring words of welcome, and the two knelt devoutly +before him. +</P> + +<P> +There was a moment of silence, then the cowled man again spoke, in a +voice firmer and less senile. +</P> + +<P> +'My daughters, you have come hither through the gloom of night and over +rough places, led by a faithful guide, whom you followed without doubt +or fear. You will have your reward. The darkness, the stones that made +your feet to stumble, what are these but symbols of your spiritual +state? In your blindness, you sought one blind as yourselves, to follow +whom was to walk in darkness eternal. But a beneficent Power has +watched over you, guiding your steps in the better way, whereof you +recked not.' +</P> + +<P> +Aurelia and Veranilda had raised their heads, and were gazing at him, +in fearful astonishment. +</P> + +<P> +'Be not troubled,' he went on, taking a step forward and speaking in a +voice strong and clear. 'Though unworthy, I am a priest of the faith in +which you, Aurelia, were baptized. In my hands you will suffer no harm, +no indignity. Be still, be silent. Behind you stand those who will not +permit you to flee, but who will conduct you hence as if they were your +own attendants if you do but follow me, as you needs must, without cry +or resistance.' +</P> + +<P> +Aurelia turned and saw a number of figures whom the dim light showed to +be men with weapons. A moan of anguish escaped her lips. Clinging to +her in terrified silence, Veranilda seemed about to sink to the ground. +</P> + +<P> +'Our way,' pursued the priest, who was now revealed as neither old nor +infirm, 'is down to the harbour. Not far from here a litter awaits you; +summon your strength for the short effort over rugged ground. Speak +words of comfort to this maiden; she also will ere long walk in the +light, and will be grateful to those who rescued her from the path of +destruction. Think not to escape us when we pass through the city; it +were vain to cry aloud; not a man in Surrentum would raise his hand to +release you, knowing, as all do, that we confine your body only to free +your soul from the bonds of the Enemy.' +</P> + +<P> +'Whither are you taking us?' asked Aurelia, suddenly commanding +herself, and speaking with cold scorn. +</P> + +<P> +'That you will know before the evening. Enough for the present that you +will travel without fatigue and without danger. Follow now whither I +lead.' +</P> + +<P> +He moved forward, and the armed men, half a dozen in number, among whom +stood the black monk, closed about the prisoners. Seeing the futility +of any resistance, Aurelia whispered to her companion such words of +encouragement as she could find, and supported her with her arms. But +Veranilda had overcome the first terror which made her droop. +</P> + +<P> +'Basil will find and release us,' she whispered back. 'While he has +life, Basil will not forsake us.' +</P> + +<P> +And with unfaltering steps she moved onward, holding Aurelia's hand. +</P> + +<P> +Their path, illumined by lanterns, the guards presently issued from the +wood, and came to the place where the litter was waiting. Hence the +captives were borne rapidly towards the haven. As they entered the city +gates, Aurelia raised the curtain which concealed her, and looked out +at the men on watch; words exchanged between them and her conductors +only confirmed what the priest had said, and made her understand that +she was powerless amid enemies. +</P> + +<P> +'Are we not to have a look at the Gothic beauty?' cried one fellow, +when the litter was passing. +</P> + +<P> +'Peace!' answered the priest sternly; and nothing more was said. +</P> + +<P> +Through the streets they were followed by a few persons. These, calling +to each other, collected at length a small crowd, which hung about the +litter when it reached the place of embarkation. Here torches were +burning; their red glare fell upon angry or mocking faces, and every +moment the crowd increased. With utmost speed the prisoners were passed +into a little boat, then rowed to a vessel lying at the harbour mouth. +As the ship hoisted sail, dawn began to glimmer over the flank of +Vesuvius. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap09"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER IX +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHORSOMAN +</H3> + +<P> +Fearful of sleeping till after sunrise, Basil had bidden Felix arouse +him this morning; and, as he had much to talk of with Veranilda, he +betook himself to the garden very early. +</P> + +<P> +Aurelia's watchman was standing without, gazing anxiously now this way, +now that, surprised by his mistress's failure to return; on the +appearance of Basil he withdrew, but only to a spot whence he could +survey the garden. All impatience, the lover waited, as minute after +minute slowly passed. Dawn was broadening to day, but Veranilda came +not. An agony of disappointment seized upon him, and he stood at length +in the attitude of one sickening with despair. Then a footstep +approached, and he saw the slave whose watch he had relieved come +forward with so strange a look that Basil could only stare at him. +</P> + +<P> +'My lord,' said the man, 'there is one at the gate of the villa who +brings I know not what news for you.' +</P> + +<P> +'One at the gate? News?' echoed Basil, his heart sinking with dread +anticipation. 'What mean you, fellow?' +</P> + +<P> +'Most noble, I know nothing,' stammered the frightened slave 'I beseech +your greatness to inquire. They say—I know not what—' +</P> + +<P> +Basil sped across the garden and into Aurelia's dwelling. Here he found +a group of servants talking excitedly together; at view of him, they +fell back as if fear-stricken. From one, Aurelia's old nurse, rose a +wail of distress; upon her Basil rushed, grasped her by the arm, and +sternly demanded what had happened. Dropping to her knees with a shrill +cry, the woman declared that Aurelia had vanished, that some one from +the city had seen her carried away before dawn. +</P> + +<P> +'Alone?' asked Basil in a terrible voice. +</P> + +<P> +'Lord, I know not,' wailed the woman, grovelling at his feet. +</P> + +<P> +'Is Veranilda in her chamber?' he asked violently. +</P> + +<P> +'Gone!' replied a faint voice from amid the group of servants. +</P> + +<P> +'Where is this messenger?' +</P> + +<P> +Without waiting for a reply, he sprang forward. In the portico which +led to the villa he heard his name shouted, and he knew the voice for +Marcian's; another moment and Marcian himself appeared, pale, agitated. +</P> + +<P> +'Why do you seek me?' cried Basil. +</P> + +<P> +'You come from yonder? Have you seen Aurelia? Then it is true.' +</P> + +<P> +Marcian told the news brought up from Surrentum by some person unknown, +who, having uttered it in the porter's ear, had at once fled. +</P> + +<P> +'Go call Venantius,' said Basil, when he had heard the brief story, +'and bring him straight to Aurelia's house. They are gone; that +slinking slave shall tell me how, or I will tear it out of him with his +soul.' +</P> + +<P> +Back he rushed, and found the nurse still crouching on the floor, +wailing. He made her lead him to her lady's chamber, and to that of +Veranilda, where nothing unusual met their eyes. The watchman was then +summoned; he came like one half dead, and smote the ground with his +forehead before the young noble, who stood hand on dagger. A fierce +interrogatory elicited clear and truthful answers; when Basil learned +what Aurelia had whispered to her servant as she went forth, he uttered +a groan. +</P> + +<P> +'Marcian! Venantius!' he cried, for at that moment the two entered the +atrium. 'I understand it all. Why had I no fear of this?' +</P> + +<P> +That Aurelia had been deceived and inveigled by one professing to be an +Arian priest, seemed clear from the watchman's story. For the +originator of the plot, Basil had not far to look. This was the +vengeance of Petronilla. But whither the two captives would be +conveyed, was less easy to conjecture. Perhaps to Cumae. The thought +stung Basil to frenzy, for, if Veranilda once fell into the hands of +the Greeks, what hope had he of ever seeing her again? +</P> + +<P> +'Did Petronilla know?' he asked of Marcian. +</P> + +<P> +'Who can say?' answered his friend, easily understanding the curtailed +question. 'Like enough that she had sent to Cumae to learn all she +could; and in that case, she found, you may be sure, ready instruments +of her malice. Were it not better,' Marcian added in an aside, 'to tell +Venantius what danger threatened Veranilda?' +</P> + +<P> +The warlike Roman, who, aroused on an alarm, had instantly equipped +himself with casque and sword, stood listening to what passed, sniffing +the air and rolling his eyes about as if he desired nothing better than +a conflict. The others now drew him aside into a more private place, +and made known to him their reason for fearing that the Gothic maiden +had been seized by emissaries from Cumae. +</P> + +<P> +'Had I heard that story before,' said Venantius, all but laughing with +angry surprise, 'Veranilda would now be safe in my castle; for, instead +of lingering, I should have come straightway, to rescue her and you. +Holy Peter and Paul! You sported here, day after day, knowing that the +hounds of Justinian had scent of the maid you carried away? You, Basil, +might commit such folly, for you were blinded to everything by your +love. But, Marcian, how came you to let him loll in his dream of +security? Why did you conceal this from me? By Castor! it was +unfriendly as it was imprudent. You robbed me of a sweet morsel when +you denied me the chance of balking the Greeks in such a matter as +this. Nay, the bird is caged at Cumae, be sure.' +</P> + +<P> +Marcian's brows were knit, and his eyes cast down as he listened to +this reproof. +</P> + +<P> +'I had not thought of Petronilla,' he murmured. 'But for her, the +danger was not pressing. That thick-skulled Hun at Cumae easily let +himself be blinded, as I told you.' +</P> + +<P> +'How could I forget,' cried Basil, 'that Petronilla would risk +damnation rather than lose her vengeance upon Aurelia But,' he added, +with sudden change from gloom to vehemence, 'that woman is not beyond +our reach. Only yesterday did she set forth for Rome, and she may have +passed the night at Neapolis. A horseman will easily overtake her. +Felix!' he shouted. 'Our horses!—she shall pay for this if my hands +can get at her throat!' +</P> + +<P> +Felix appeared, but not in answer to his master's summons; he came +precipitately, followed by a swarm of frightened slaves, to announce +another surprise. Before the villa stood a hostile multitude, folk of +Surrentum, who demanded admittance, and, if denied, would enter by +force. At this news Venantius hastened to muster his troop of archers +and spearmen. Basil and Marcian, having made sure that all entrances +were locked and barred, went to the front gate, and through a wicket +surveyed the assailants. These seemed to be mainly of the baser class; +they had armed themselves with all sorts of rude weapons, which they +brandished menacingly, shouting confused maledictions. From the porter +Basil learned that those who had first presented themselves at the door +had demanded that 'the heretics' should be given up to them; and by +listening to the cries, he understood that the wrath of these people +was directed against the Arian servants brought hither by Aurelia. +Through the wicket he held colloquy with certain leaders of the throng. +</P> + +<P> +'The heretics! Yield to us the accursed heretics!' shouted a burly +fellow armed with an ox-goad. +</P> + +<P> +'For what usage?' asked Basil. +</P> + +<P> +'That's as they choose. If they like to come before the bishop and turn +Christian—why, a little correction shall suffice. If not, they have +only themselves and the devil to blame.' +</P> + +<P> +By this time Venantius and his retainers stood in the forecourt. To +him, the routing of such a rabble seemed a task not worth speaking of, +but some few would no doubt be slain, and Basil shrank from such +extremities. +</P> + +<P> +'Would you give up these trembling wretches?' asked Venantius +scornfully, pointing to the four slaves, male and female, Arians either +by origin or by conversion to please Aurelia, whom she had brought from +Cumae. On their knees they were imploring protection. +</P> + +<P> +'Nay, I will fight for their safety,' Basil answered. 'But if we can +frighten off this tag-rag without bloodshed so much the better.' +</P> + +<P> +Venantius consented to make the attempt. On the upper villa was an open +gallery looking over the entrance, and fully visible from where the +invaders stood. Hither the armed men ascended and stood in line, the +bowmen with arrows on string. Their lord, advancing to the parapet, +made a signal demanding silence, and spoke in a audible to every ear in +the throng. +</P> + +<P> +'Dogs! You came on this errand thinking that the villa was defenceless. +See your mistake! Each one of these behind me has more arrows in store +than all your number, and never shot bolt from bow without piercing the +mark. Off! Away with your foul odours and your yelping throats! And if, +when you have turned tail, any cur among you dares to bark back that I, +Venantius of Nuceria, am no true Catholic, he shall pay for the lie +with an arrow through chine and gizzard!' This threat he confirmed with +a terrific oath of indisputable orthodoxy. +</P> + +<P> +The effect was immediate. Back fell the first rank of rioters, pressing +against those in the rear; and without another cry, with only a low, +terrified growling and snarling, the crowd scattered in flight. +</P> + +<P> +'There again I see Petronilla,' declared Basil, watching the rout with +fierce eyes. 'I'll swear that, before starting, she set this game +afoot. I must after her, Venantius.' +</P> + +<P> +'Alone?' +</P> + +<P> +'Mother of God! if I had your men! But I will make soldiers of my own. +Some of the likeliest from our folk here shall follow me; enough to +stay that she-wolf's journey till I can choke the truth out of her.' +</P> + +<P> +Venantius, his eyes fixed on the descending road by which the rabble +had disappeared, caught sight of something which held him mute for a +moment. Then he gave a snort of surprise. +</P> + +<P> +'What's this? There are no Greek soldiers in Surrentum.' +</P> + +<P> +Yet unmistakable soldiers of the Imperial army were approaching. First +came into sight a commanding officer; he rode a little in advance of +the troop, which soon showed itself to consist of some two score +mounted men, armed with bows and swords. And in the rear came the +rabble of Surrentines, encouraged to return by this arrival of armed +authority. +</P> + +<P> +'That is Chorsoman,' said Marcian, as soon as he could distinguish the +captain's feature, 'the commander at Cumae.' +</P> + +<P> +'Then it is not to Cumae that they have carried her!' exclaimed Basil, +surmising at once that the Hun was come in pursuit of Veranilda. +</P> + +<P> +'Time enough to think of that,' growled Venantius, as he glared from +under black brows at the advancing horsemen. 'What are we to do? To +resist is war, and this villa cannot be held for an hour. Yet to yield +is most likely to be made prisoners. Marcian!' +</P> + +<P> +Marcian was watching and listening with a look of anxious thought. +Appealed to for his counsel, he spoke decidedly. +</P> + +<P> +'Withdraw your men and go down. Resistance is impossible. Chorsoman +must enter, but trust me to manage him. I answer for your liberty.' +</P> + +<P> +Venantius led his men down to the inner court. Basil, careless of +everything but the thought that Veranilda was being borne far from him, +he knew not whither, went to get horses ready, that he might pursue +Petronilla as soon as the road was free. Marcian, having spoken with +the porter, waited till a thundering at the gate announced Chorsoman's +arrival, then had the doors thrown open, and stood with a calm smile to +meet the commander. +</P> + +<P> +'Fair greeting to your Magnificence!' he began with courtesy. 'Be +welcome to this villa, where, in absence of its mistress, I take upon +myself to offer you hospitality.' +</P> + +<P> +Chorsoman had dismounted, and stood with half a dozen of his followers +behind him in the portico. At sight of Marcian his face became +suspicious. +</P> + +<P> +'By mistress,' he replied gruffly, stepping forward, 'I suppose you +mean the daughter of Maximus. Where is she?' +</P> + +<P> +Marcian would have continued the conversation within, but the Hun chose +to remain standing in the for-court, the gate wide open. From the +Surrentines he had already heard the story of Aurelia's disappearance, +which puzzled and angered him, for no one professed to be able to +explain what had happened, yet his informants declared that the Roman +lady and the Gothic maiden had been carried away without the knowledge +of the men who were their protectors. This was now repeated by Marcian, +who professed himself overwhelmed by the event. +</P> + +<P> +'You have here one Basilius,' said Chorsoman. +</P> + +<P> +'The same whom your greatness saw on a certain occasion at Cumae.' +</P> + +<P> +'They tell me he was about to wed with Veranilda. What does that mean?' +</P> + +<P> +'An idle rumour,' replied Marcian, 'springing from vulgar gossip, and +from the spiteful anger of the lady sister of Maximus, who hoped to +inherit what has fallen to her niece. Let your valorous magnificence be +assured that there is no truth in it. Can you imagine that I, whose +mission is known to you, should have looked on at such an audacity? I +think your perspicuity will not require better proof of the powers with +which I am intrusted than that I gave you at Cumae?' +</P> + +<P> +Of the profound contempt proclaimed, rather than disguised, by +Marcian's extravagant courtesy, Chorsoman had no inkling; but his +barbaric mind resented the complexity of things with which it was +confronted, and he felt a strong inclination to take this +smooth-tongued Latin by the throat, so as to choke the plain truth out +of him. Why, he demanded fiercely, had not Aurelia and her companion +travelled straight on to Rome, as he had been assured they were to do? +</P> + +<P> +'For a simple reason,' answered Marcian. 'I judged an escort necessary, +and only yesterday did I obtain it. This very day should we have set +forth.' +</P> + +<P> +'You speak of one Venantius and his followers—he who just now, I am +told, threatened to massacre the harmless citizens of Surrentum.' +</P> + +<P> +'I would rather say the most noble Venantius, a senator, but for whose +presence this villa would have been sacked by a thievish rabble from +below.' +</P> + +<P> +'Let me see him,' said the Hun, his eyes like those of a boar at bay. +</P> + +<P> +'Will it please your Illustrious Magnanimity to eat with us?' +</P> + +<P> +'I will eat when I choose. Fetch here Venantius.' +</P> + +<P> +Marcian despatched the porter, and in a few moments Venantius appeared, +behind him his armed men. A hand lightly on his sword, as though he +played with the hilt, his head proudly erect, the Roman noble paused at +a few paces from the Hun, and regarded him with bold steadfastness. +</P> + +<P> +'You serve the Emperor?' said Chorsoman, somewhat less overbearingly +than he had spoken hitherto. +</P> + +<P> +'When occasion offers,' was the dry response. +</P> + +<P> +On the Hun's countenance grew legible the calculation busying his +thought. At a glance he had taken the measure of Venantius, and gauged +the worth of the men behind him. A smile, which could not mask its +cunning, came on to his lips, and all of a sudden he exchanged his +truculence for amiability. +</P> + +<P> +'Lord Venantius,' he said, laying an open palm on his own breast, and +then motioning with it towards the Roman, 'you and I, two men of +valour, can understand each other in few words. I am no talker'—his +narrow eyes glanced at Marcian—'nor are you. Tell me, if you can, what +has become of the lady Aurelia and of the Gothic maiden who attended +upon her.' +</P> + +<P> +'Lord Chorsoman,' replied Venantius, 'I thought it was you who could +have answered that question. The ladies Aurelia and Veranilda have this +morning disappeared, and we judged it likely that they had been enticed +from the villa to be captured and borne to Cumae.' +</P> + +<P> +'Who should have done that?' +</P> + +<P> +'Emissaries of your own, we supposed.' +</P> + +<P> +The Hun reflected. +</P> + +<P> +'This man of words'—he nodded sideways at Marcian—'spoke of a woman's +malice. Explain to me.' +</P> + +<P> +Venantius told what he knew of Petronilla's enmity, and the listener +had no difficulty in coming to the conclusion which to Basil had been +evident from the first. It was possible moreover, that Cumae might be +the place to which the captives had been conveyed, for Chorsoman had +left the fortress yesterday to come hither by way of Neapolis, his +reason for the expedition being news of Veranilda's approaching +marriage, brought to him by a fisherman who said he had been paid by a +person unknown. Did Petronilla, he next inquired, know that Veranilda +was to be sent to the East? To this Marcian replied with a negative, +adding: +</P> + +<P> +'Unless your Illustrious Discretion have seen fit to spread abroad what +I imparted to your private ear.' +</P> + +<P> +'My tongue is not so loose as yours,' was the Hun's rejoinder. +</P> + +<P> +Again he reflected, with the result that he decided to send a messenger +at once to Cumae. Until news could be brought back he should remain +here in the villa. This intention he announced in a tone abundantly +significant, his hearers understanding that Aurelia's property was now +in hands not accustomed to relax their grasp. +</P> + +<P> +'Lord Venantius,' he added, 'as your escort is no longer needed, you +will wish, no doubt, to return forthwith to your own abode. It will not +be long before you have the occasion you desire of proving your loyalty +to the Emperor. Brave men both, we may presently fight side by side. +Let us sit at table together, and then good-speed!' +</P> + +<P> +With a haughty glare Venantius heard this dismissal. A reply surged +into his throat, but he swallowed it again, remembering that more than +his personal safety was at stake. +</P> + +<P> +'You will pardon me, lord,' he replied, 'if I do not stay to break my +fast. I am of impatient humour, and never willingly linger when a +journey is before me.' +</P> + +<P> +'As you will,' said Chorsoman, with a slight knitting of his brows. +'You ride alone, I suppose?' +</P> + +<P> +'The lord Basil, who starts for Rome, will give me his company as far +as our ways are one.' +</P> + +<P> +Chorsoman gave a glance at the soldiers in his rear, then at Marcian, +and smiled grimly. +</P> + +<P> +'I fear you must go without lord Basil. I shall have need of him.' +</P> + +<P> +There was a very short silence; then Marcian spoke, with bland decision. +</P> + +<P> +'Commander, this cannot be. Basil carries letters of urgency to Rome +and Ravenna; letters which I would not intrust to any one else. Your +Sublimity will see that it is impossible to delay him.' +</P> + +<P> +Teeth hard set, and eyes aflame, the Hun took a step forward. In the +same instant, Venantius laid a hand upon his sword, and, at the +gesture, his armed men looked to their weapons. +</P> + +<P> +'Where is this Basil?' demanded Chorsoman. +</P> + +<P> +'I will let him know if you wish to speak with him,' replied Marcian. +</P> + +<P> +'You shall be spared the trouble. Lord Venantius, bid your followers +retire and get their horses ready, whilst you and I go in search of +lord Basil. You will not refuse me your company for a few minutes?' +</P> + +<P> +Cunning had again subdued the Hun's violence, and discretion prevailed +with the Roman. Together they passed through the atrium, Chorsoman +casting eager glances about him, and to the inner court; but the +followers of Venantius, obedient to a silent order, still kept their +position in face of the Greek soldiers, and this Chorsoman knew. +</P> + +<P> +'You understand,' said the Hun, when they were alone together, you, a +brave and honourable man, how my duty to the Emperor obliges me to act. +I, of course, take possession of this villa until Aurelia is +discovered. And, however important his mission, I cannot allow Basil to +depart without some security—you will understand that.' +</P> + +<P> +The barbarous accent with which these sentences were uttered caused +Venantius almost as much disgust as the plundering purpose they avowed. +</P> + +<P> +'What security?' he asked. +</P> + +<P> +Chorsoman named a large sum of money. As he spoke, Basil himself +appeared; and with brief preface, the matter under debate was reported +to him. He glanced at Venantius but could find no counsel in the dark, +stern face. Foreseeing the result of the Hun's visit, Basil had +hastened to conceal on his own person a considerable weight of coin, +and had intrusted something like the same amount to Felix. In the +treasure chamber lay a mass of wealth now belonging to Aurelia, and the +mere fact of this being under lock and key by no means secured it +against the commander's greed. Marcian came forward, and hearing the +talk of ransom, endeavoured to awe the Hun into moderation, but with +less success than he had had at Cumae. So he led Basil aside, told him +of the messenger sent to Cumae, as well as of the inventions by which +Chorsoman had been beguiled, and counselled mere inaction until news +came. Marcian then inquired of the commander whether, in case Veranilda +were found at Cumae, he would permit her to be sent on to Rome under +the escort already provided; but to this Chorsoman vouchsafed no direct +reply: he would consider the matter. +</P> + +<P> +Negotiations had reached this point when new visitors arrived, the +Bishop of Surrentum and presbyter Joannes. Though suffering much, the +good bishop had risen from bed as soon as the exciting events of this +morning had reached his ear His innocence of complicity in the plot +against Aurelia and Veranilda, no one who saw him could doubt; with +astonishment he had heard of the priests and their armed attendants, +and with indignation of the citizens' tumultuous behaviour. What right +or reason had folk to proclaim that Aurelia was still a heretic, and +that she should not have been allowed to inherit property? Who, he +asked severely, could read her heart? And when inquiry made it too +certain that all this angry feeling had originated with Petronilla, the +prelate shook his head sadly, thinking more than he cared to say. +Arrived at the villa, he first of all learnt all he could as to the +position of things (declaring total ignorance when the Hun sought to +examine him as to the relations of Basil and Veranilda), then made +earnest inquiry whether there really were slaves here who professed +Arianism. The four were summoned; overcome with dread, they prostrated +them selves, and entreated the bishop to make them Catholics Having +heard from them that they all had been baptized (the Roman Church held +the baptism of Arians valid), he sent them apart for summary +instruction by Joannes, and afterwards laid his reconciling hands upon +them. Thus had the Church gained four members, and the good folk of +Surrentum lost a heretic-baiting. +</P> + +<P> +With the proceedings of the Imperial commander the worthy cleric could +not interfere. He spoke privately with Basil, and betrayed, in a gentle +severity of mien, his suspicion of the young noble's state of mind, but +of this not a word fell from him; his concern seemed to be solely with +the lady Aurelia, regarding whom he would set every possible inquiry on +foot. He advised Basil not to leave the neighbourhood for a day or two, +and to communicate with him before he went far. Gratefully Basil kissed +the old man's hand. They never met again. A week later the bishop was +dead. +</P> + +<P> +After all, Venantius sat at table with Chorsoman. Fuming, he waited +till the next morning, when, if the news could be believed, it became +certain that Aurelia and her companion were not at Cumae. Basil, having +no choice, then paid for ransom nearly all the money he had secreted, +and rode away with Venantius, purposing to remain at Nuceria until +joined by Marcian. Three days later Marcian appeared at the castle He +brought no intelligence of the lost ladies. As for their abode, it had +been thoroughly pillaged; the treasure chamber was discovered and +broken open; not a coin, not a vessel or ornament which had its price, +not a piece of silk, had escaped the clutches of the Hun. +</P> + +<P> +Chorsoman's departure was followed by an invasion of the Surrentines, +who robbed more grossly. A fire broke out in the house of Proba, and +much of that building was destroyed. In the once magnificent villa +there lurked but a few slaves, who knew not whether their owner lived. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap10"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER X +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE ANICIANS +</H3> + +<P> +Not many days after, in a still noontide of mellow autumn, Basil and +Marcian drew towards Rome. They rode along the Via Appia, between the +tombs of ancient men; all about them, undulant to the far horizon, a +brown wilderness dotted with ruins. Ruins of villas, of farms, of +temples, with here and there a church or a monastery that told of the +newer time. Olives in scant patches, a lost vineyard, a speck of tilled +soil, proved that men still laboured amid this vast and awful silence, +but rarely was a human figure visible. As they approached the city, +marshy ground and stagnant pools lay on either hand, causing them to +glance sadly at those great aqueducts, which for ages had brought water +into Rome from the hills and now stood idle, cleft by the Goths during +the siege four years ago. +</P> + +<P> +They rode in silence, tired with their journey, occupied with heavy or +anxious thoughts. Basil, impatient to arrive, was generally a little +ahead. Their attendants numbered half a dozen men, among them Felix and +Sagaris, and two mules laden with packs came in the rear. Earthworks +and rough buildings of military purpose, again recalling the twelve +months' blockade, presently appeared; churches and oratories told them +they were passing the sacred ground of the catacombs; then they crossed +the little Almo, rode at a trot along a hollow way, and saw before them +the Appian Gate. Only a couple of soldiers were on guard; these took a +careless view of the travellers, and let them pass without speaking. +</P> + +<P> +Marcian rode up to his friend's side, and spoke softly. +</P> + +<P> +'You have promised to be advised by me.' +</P> + +<P> +Basil answered only with a dull nod. +</P> + +<P> +'I will see her to-day,' continued the other, 'and will bring you the +news before I sleep.' +</P> + +<P> +'Do so.' +</P> + +<P> +No more words passed between them. On their left hand they saw the +Thermae of Caracalla, their external magnificence scarce touched by +decay, but waterless, desolate; in front rose the Caelian, covered with +edifices, many in ruin, and with neglected or altogether wild gardens; +the road along which they went was almost as silent as that without the +walls. Arrived at a certain point, the two looked at each other and +waved a hand; then Marcian, with Sagaris and one other servant, pushed +forward, whilst Basil, followed by the rest of the train, took an +ascending road to the right. +</P> + +<P> +The house in which he was born, and where he alone now ruled, stood on +the summit of the Caelian. Before it stood the ruined temple of +Claudius, overlooking the Flavian Amphitheatre; behind it ranged the +great arches of the Neronian aqueduct; hard by were the round church of +St. Stephen and a monastery dedicated to St. Erasmus. By a narrow, +grass-grown road, between walls overhung with ivy, Basil ascended the +hill; but for the occasional bark of a dog, nothing showed that these +buildings of old time were inhabited; and when he drew rein before his +own portico, the cessation of the sound of hoofs made a stillness like +that among the Appian sepulchres. Eyeless, hoary, with vegetation +rooted here and there, the front of the house gave no welcome. Having +knocked, Basil had to wait for some moments before there came a sign of +opening. With drooped head, he seemed to watch the lizards playing in +the sunshine upon a marble column. +</P> + +<P> +A wicket opened, and at once there sounded from within an exclamation +of joyful surprise. After much clanking, the door yielded, and an +elderly servant, the freedman Eugenius, offered greeting to his lord. +Basil's first question was whether Decius had been there; he learnt +that his kinsman was now in the house, having come yesterday to reside +here from the Anician palace beyond the Tiber. +</P> + +<P> +'Tell him at once that I am here. Stay; I dare say he is in the +library. I will go to him.' +</P> + +<P> +He passed through the atrium, adorned with ancestral busts and with the +consular fasces which for centuries had signified nothing, through a +room hung with tapestry and floored with fine mosaic, through the +central court, where the fountain was dry, and by a colonnade reached +the secluded room which was called library, though few books remained +out of the large collection once guarded here. In a sunny embrasure, a +codex open on his knees, sat the pale student; seeing Basil, he started +up in great surprise, and, when they had embraced, regarded him +anxiously. +</P> + +<P> +'How is this? What has happened? Some calamity, I see.' +</P> + +<P> +'Seek some word, O Decius, to utter more than that. I have suffered +worse than many deaths.' +</P> + +<P> +'My best, my dearest Basil!' murmured the other tenderly. 'You have +lost her?' +</P> + +<P> +'Lost her? yes; but not as you mean it. Is Petronilla in Rome?' +</P> + +<P> +'She arrived the day before yesterday, two hours after sunset.' +</P> + +<P> +'And you have seen her, talked with her?' +</P> + +<P> +'I was at the house yonder when she came.' +</P> + +<P> +'And she behaved ill to you?' asked Basil. +</P> + +<P> +'Far from that, Petronilla overwhelmed me with affection and courtesy. +I knew not,' proceeded Decius smiling, 'how I had all at once merited +such attention. I came away merely because this situation better suits +my health. Down by the river I have never been at ease. But let me hear +what has befallen you.' +</P> + +<P> +Basil told his story, beginning with the explanation of Veranilda's +importance in the eyes of the Greek commander. After learning from the +Hun that nothing was known of the lost ladies at Cumae, he had +impatiently lingered for three days in the castle of Venantius, on the +chance that Marcian might be able to test the truth of Chorsoman's +report; but his friend made no discovery, and in despair he set out for +Rome. To all this Decius listened with wonder and with sympathy. He had +no difficulty in crediting Petronilla with such a plot, but thought she +could scarce have executed it without the help of some one in +authority. Such a person, he added cautiously, as a deacon of the Roman +Church. Hereupon Basil exclaimed that he and Marcian had had the same +suspicion. +</P> + +<P> +'I will find her,' he cried, 'if it cost me my life! And I will be +revenged upon those who have robbed me of her. She may at this moment +be in Rome. The ship that carried her off was large enough, they say, +to make the voyage, and winds have been favourable. My good Decius, I +am so overcome with misery that I forget even to ask how you sped on +the sea.' +</P> + +<P> +'A smooth and rapid voyage. I had only time to reperuse with care the +<I>Silvae</I> of Statius—his Epicedion being appropriate to my mood. +Arrived at Portus, I sent a post to those who awaited the ship's +coming, and the remains of Maximus were brought with all due honour to +their resting place.' +</P> + +<P> +'Was the deacon Leander here to receive you?' asked Basil. +</P> + +<P> +'I learnt that he had not yet been heard of.' +</P> + +<P> +They exchanged a significant look, and Basil remarked that he would +soon discover the deacon's movements since his leaving Surrentum. +Marcian was even now on his way to visit Petronilla, and would come +with news this evening. +</P> + +<P> +'If I could know,' he cried, 'whether she has been delivered to the +Greeks, or is kept imprisoned by that Megaera! It may be that +Petronilla is ignorant of what I have told you; yet, if so, I fear she +will soon learn it, for Chorsoman will write—if the barbarian can +write—to Bessas, and cannot but mention her. There are prisons in Rome +for those who offend the tyrant of Byzantium.' +</P> + +<P> +'It troubles me to hear you say that,' said Decius, with an anxious +glance. +</P> + +<P> +'I, too, may be in peril, you think,' replied his kinsman gloomily. +'True, all the more that I am known to have just inherited. Bessas +takes a peculiar interest in such people. Be that as it will. Let us +turn for a moment to other things.' +</P> + +<P> +They spoke of the duties that had to be discharged by Basil as his +uncle's heir. On the morrow he must assemble such of his kinsfolk as +were in Rome, and exhibit to them the testament. Aurelia's part in it +would of course excite discussion, perhaps serious objection; whereas +her disappearance would probably be regarded as a matter of small +moment, and Petronilla, even if suspected, could count on sympathy. +When he left the library, Basil found all the members of his household, +from the old nurse Aguella, whose privilege it was to treat him with +motherly affection, to the men who groomed his horse, assembled outside +to give him welcome. His character and bearing were such as earn the +good-will of dependents; though proud and impatient, he never behaved +harshly, and a service well rendered often had its recognition. Among +the young men of his rank, he was notable for temperance in pleasures; +his slaves regarded him as above common temptations of the flesh, and, +though this might be a loss to them in one way, they boasted of it when +talking to the slaves of masters less exceptional. Having learnt from +Felix that their lord was heir of Maximus, the servants received him +with even more than wonted respect. One of them was the steward of his +estate in Picenum, who had arrived at Rome a few days ago; with him +Basil had private talk, received money which the man had brought, heard +of the multitudinous swine in his oak forest, and of the yield of his +fruit trees. That strip of the Adriatic coast south of Ancona had +always been famous for its pears and apples, and choice examples of the +fruit lay on Basil's table to-day. When he had supped, he anxiously +awaited the coming of Marcian. It was two hours after nightfall before +his friend appeared, having come in a litter, with torch-bearing +attendants, from the Palatine, where he had supped with Bessas, the +Greek commander. +</P> + +<P> +The news he brought was disquieting. Bessas had just received +despatches from Cumae, which acquainted him with the story of +Veranilda's disappearance, so far as it was known to Chorsoman; he wore +a heavy brow about the business, swore that the Gothic damsel should be +found, if it cost the skins of all who had had anything to do with her. +</P> + +<P> +'I partly soothed the brute,' concluded Marcian, 'by telling him that +Petronilla was within such easy reach. Her he will summon to-morrow.' +</P> + +<P> +'You promised to see her,' said Basil impatiently. +</P> + +<P> +'Do I often break my promises? I saw her before going even to my own +house, with the dust of the journey still upon me.' +</P> + +<P> +'Ever kind Marcian?' +</P> + +<P> +'Why so hasty to think me less than kind?' returned the other, with his +smile of sad irony. 'I saw her, though with difficulty. She kept me +waiting like an importunate poor kinsman, and when I was received, she +sat like the Empress giving audience. I did not touch the earth with my +forehead; nay, I stood looking at her with a look she did not easily +bear. That she is guilty, I am sure; I read triumph in her eyes as soon +as I spoke of Aurelia. That she would deny all knowledge of the affair +was only to be expected. Moreover, she has taken possession of the +great house yonder, and declares that Aurelia, as a heretic, can claim +nothing under her father's will. You, of course, the heir, can expel +her, if you think it worth the trouble. But let us see the result of +her conversation with Bessas. She smiled disdainfully when I mentioned +his name, and tried to continue smiling when I carelessly explained the +interest he had in finding Veranilda; but she was frightened, I heard +it in her hoarse voice when she began to speak evil of Veranilda.' +</P> + +<P> +'What!' cried Basil. 'Evil of Veranilda!' +</P> + +<P> +'Such as naturally comes to the tongue of an angry woman.' +</P> + +<P> +The lover raged, Marcian listening with a sad, half-absent look. Their +talk continued for a long time, arid, because of the lateness of the +hour, Marcian stayed to sleep in his friend's house. Before sunrise on +the morrow, Basil sent forth his invitations to all of the Anician +blood in Rome. The first to respond was Gordianus, whose dwelling on +the Clivus Scauri stood but a few minutes' walk away. Though but a +little older than Basil, Gordian had been for several years a husband +and a father; he was in much esteem for his worldly qualities, and more +highly regarded for the fervour of his religious faith. A tall, +handsome, dignified man, he looked straight before him with frank eyes, +and his lips told of spirit tempered by kindliness. Between him and his +relative no great intimacy existed, for their modes of life and of +thought were too dissimilar, but each saw the good in the other, and +was attracted by it. Not long ago Gordian had conceived the project of +giving his young sister Aemiliana as wife to Basil. Maximus favoured +this design, but his nephew showed no eagerness to carry it out, and +Roman gossip presently found a reason for that. Among the leaders of +fashion and of pleasure—for fashion and pleasure did not fail to +revive in Rome soon after the horrors of the siege—shone a lady named +Heliodora, the Greek wife of a little-respected senator, who, favoured +by Bessas, rose to the position of City Prefect. With Heliodora's +character rumour made very free; the captives of her beauty were said +to be numerous, and one of the names mentioned by those who loved such +scandal was that of the young Basil. Gordian, finding that there was +some ground for this suspicion, spoke no more of the suggested +marriage, and it was at his instance that Maximus, ill in Campania, +summoned Basil away from the city. Reports from Surrentum gave reason +to hope that this measure had succeeded. But to-day, as he entered +Basil's house, Gordian's face wore a troubled look, and there was no +warmth in his response to the greeting which met him. +</P> + +<P> +'You have sent for me, my dear lord,' he began with grave and distant +courtesy, 'to speak of the matter of your inheritance. Forgive me if I +first of all ask you a question—of more intimate concern. Is it true +that you have taken a wife?' +</P> + +<P> +Basil, in whom fatigue and misery had left little patience, began +quivering in every nerve, and made blunt answer: +</P> + +<P> +'It is not true, arid she who told you contrived the lie.' +</P> + +<P> +'You speak of the lady Petronilla,' pursued Gordian gently. 'Can I +think that she has wilfully deceived me?' +</P> + +<P> +'Think it not, my lord Gordian,' returned the other; 'if Petronilla +told you I was married, she lied.' +</P> + +<P> +'That is strange indeed. Listen, I pray you, to the story heard in Rome +since Petronilla returned. It is right that you should hear it just as +it comes from her own lips.' +</P> + +<P> +Thereupon Gordian repeated a narrative which would have been +substantially true had it not crowned Basil's love with marriage. The +listener, shaken with violent passion, could scarce wait till the end. +</P> + +<P> +'And now hear <I>me</I>,' he cried. 'If I were prudent, I also should lie, +for the truth may be dangerous. But you shall know it, O Gordian, and +if you choose to harm me—' +</P> + +<P> +The other raised a hand, and so full of dignity was this gesture, so +solemn the look which accompanied it, that Basil's vehemence felt +itself rebuked; he grew silent and listened. +</P> + +<P> +'Basil, check your tongue, which I see will be your greatest peril. Do +not confide in me, for I know not whether I can respect your +confidence. Let us speak of other things.' +</P> + +<P> +The younger man stood for a moment in hesitancy, his cheeks aflame, his +eyes fiercely gleaming. +</P> + +<P> +'As you will,' he exclaimed, mastering himself. 'When the others are +here, you will learn all that it concerns you to know. Remember, +Gordian, that I would have opened my heart to you, for, whatever I +said, I know well that you are no betrayer. As for that woman—' +</P> + +<P> +He was interrupted by the arrival of several persons, old and young, +who appeared in answer to his summons. Having received them with colder +courtesy than was natural to him, Basil produced the testament of +Maximus, and submitted it to his kinsmen's inspection. The tablets +passed from hand to hand; the signatures and seals of the seven +witnesses were examined, the contents read and discussed. Meanwhile +guests continued to arrive, until a considerable gathering, which +included several ladies, had assembled in the great hall. Here was +represented all that deemed itself best and most illustrious in the +society of Rome. More came than were expressly invited; for, beyond the +legitimate interest of the occasion, curiosity had been aroused by the +gossip of Petronilla, and some whose connection with the Anician house +was of the very slightest, hastened to present themselves at Basil's +door. Hither came men whose names recalled the glories of the Republic; +others who were addressed by appellations which told of Greek dominion; +alike they claimed the dignity of Roman optimates, and deemed +themselves ornaments of an empire which would endure as long as the +world. Several ranked as senators; two or three were ex-consuls; ten +years ago the last consul of Rome had laid down his shadowy honours; +one had held the office of Praetorian Prefect when Theodoric was king; +yet, from the political point of view, all were now as powerless as +their own slaves. Wealth a few of them still possessed, but with no +security; a rapacious Byzantine official, the accident of war, might at +any moment strip them of all they had. For the most part they had +already sunk to poverty, if not to indigence; among these aristocratic +faces were more than one which bore the mark of privation. Those who +had little means or none lived as parasites of more fortunate +relatives; though beggars, they housed in palaces—palaces, it is true, +which had often no more comfort within their marble walls than the +insulae where the ignoble laid their heads. +</P> + +<P> +When all had perused the will, Basil rose up and addressed them. He +began by a seemingly careless allusion to the tattle about himself, +which, as it appeared, had been started in Rome by some one who wished +him ill. The serious matter of which he had to speak regarded the +daughter of Maximus. No one here, of course, would be inclined to take +up the defence of Aurelia, whose history was known to all, he would +merely make known to them that after having abjured her religious +errors, and when living quietly in the Surrentine villa, she had been +treacherously seized and carried off he knew not whither. It was not +difficult to surmise by whom this plot had been laid, but he would +leave that point for his hearers' discussion. Him it chiefly concerned +to make known the strange facts so far as he knew them; and this he +proceeded to do. Basil concluded with sarcastic reference to the +possibility that he, as heir, might be openly or secretly suspected of +having laid hands upon Aurelia; that point also he left to be debated +by such as thought it worth while. +</P> + +<P> +Only some two or three of those who listened had any personal interest +in the will, and few cared at all for the fate of Aurelia; but the lady +at whom Basil's innuendo pointed enjoyed no great favour, and her +absence from this family gathering made it possible to discuss with all +freedom the likelihood of her culpability. At Basil himself no +suspicion glanced, but the rumour of his marriage with a Goth had +excited much curiosity, hardly appeased by a whisper that Gordian +declared the story false. Having spoken all he thought fit to say, +Basil was going apart with the persons to whom legacies had been left, +he, as heir, being charged with the execution of the will, when Gordian +approached him, and begged for a word in private. +</P> + +<P> +'I would not have you think me unkind, dear Basil,' he said, in a +gentle voice. 'It was neither the place nor the moment to hear secrets +from you, and I am glad now that I refused to listen; but be assured +that I put faith in what you have declared to us.' +</P> + +<P> +'It is well, dear Gordian,' replied Basil frankly. +</P> + +<P> +'One word I will add,' continued the other. 'If you are troubled about +things of the world, if you lack counsel such as you think a friend +might give, delay not in coming to me. I should not speak thus +confidently did I speak of myself alone; but there is one ever at my +side, who with her wisdom—sometimes I think it divinely +bestowed—supplies the weakness of my own understanding. Guided by her, +I cannot counsel you amiss.' +</P> + +<P> +They parted with an embrace, and Basil turned to the business of the +moment. This occupied him until nearly mid-day. As he took leave of the +last of his guests, there entered Marcian; his coming surprised Basil, +for they had parted at early morning not to meet again before the +morrow. +</P> + +<P> +'I bring you an invitation,' said Marcian, in a careless tone, which +was not quite natural. 'It is to the Palatine, after dinner.' +</P> + +<P> +'To the Palatine? I am summoned by Bessas?' +</P> + +<P> +'In a friendly way. Have no anxiety. Petronilla has been examined this +morning, and, from what I can gather, she seems to have betrayed +herself. Bessas wore the smile which means that he has over-reached +somebody.' +</P> + +<P> +'Then we shall find her,' exclaimed Basil. +</P> + +<P> +'They will find her, I doubt not,' was the reply. +</P> + +<P> +The meal being ready, they sat down to eat together, but their appetite +was small. Decius, who had wearied himself this morning in finding +discreet answers to the questions with which he was privately assailed +by his kinsfolk, did not come to table. Having dined, Basil and his +friend set forth on foot, half a dozen servants walking behind them. +Midway in the descent of the Caelian, they were met by an odd +procession: a beautiful boy of some twelve years old, clad in yellow, +riding upon a small white ass with rich housings, and behind him three +slaves, dark-visaged men of the East, on mules of great size, +caparisoned with yellow cloth, to which hung innumerable tinkling +bells. At sight of Basil, the child drew rein; jumped down, and ran +forward with smiling demonstrations of respect. +</P> + +<P> +'What is it, Laetus?' asked Basil, with no welcome upon his sombre +countenance. 'I cannot talk with you now.' +</P> + +<P> +The boy, who had been sold into slavery from the far island of the +Angles, did but smatter the Roman tongue. With a few words to signify +that his message was important, he delivered a letter, and Basil, +turning aside impatiently, broke the seal. Upon the blank side of a +slip of papyrus cut from some old manuscript were written lines which +seemed to be in Greek, and proved to be Latin in Greek characters, a +foppery beginning to be used by the modish at Rome. +</P> + +<P> +'Heliodora to Basil. You are bidden to supper. Come if you will. If you +come not, I care not.' +</P> + +<P> +'Say that I gave you no reply,' were Basil's blunt words, as he walked +on past the ass and the mules. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap11"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XI +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +SEEKING +</H3> + +<P> +They passed beneath the walls of the amphitheatre and by Constantine's +triumphal arch. Like all the innumerable fountains of the city, the +Meta Sudans stood dry; around the base of the rayed colossus of Apollo, +goats were browsing. Thence they went along by the Temple of Venus and +Rome, its giant columns yet unshaken, its roof gleaming with gilded +bronze; and so under the Arch of Titus, when, with a sharp turn to the +left, they began the ascent of the Palatine. +</P> + +<P> +The vast buildings which covered the Imperial hill, though discoloured +by the lapse of ages and hung with ivy, had suffered little diminution +of their external majesty; time had made them venerable, but had not +shattered their walls. For two centuries and a half, they had stood all +but desolate, and within that time had thrice been sacked by +barbarians, yet something of the riches and art which made their +ancient glory was still discoverable in the countless halls and +chambers; statues, busts, mural paintings, triumphs of mosaic, pictured +hangings, had in many parts escaped the spoiler and survived ruin; +whilst everywhere appeared the magnificence of rare stones, the +splendours of royal architecture, the beauty of unsurpassed carving. +Though owls nested where empresses were wont to sleep, and nettles +pierced where the lord of the world feasted his courtiers, this was +still the Palace of those who styled themselves Ever August; each echo +seemed to repeat an immortal name, and in every gallery seemed to move +the shadows of a majestic presence. +</P> + +<P> +Belisarius had not resided here, preferring for his abode the palace of +the Pincian. His successor in the military government of Rome chose a +habitation on the deserted hill, in that portion of its complex +structures which had been raised by Vespasian and his sons. Thither the +two visitors were now directing their steps. Having passed a gateway, +where Marcian answered with a watchword the challenge of the guard, +they ascended a broad flight of stairs, and stood before an entrance +flanked with two great pillars of Numidian marble, toned by time to a +hue of richest orange. Here stood soldiers, to whom again the password +was given. Entering, they beheld a great hall, surrounded by a +colonnade of the Corinthian order, whereon had been lavished exquisite +carving; in niches behind the columns stood statues in basalt, thrice +the size of life, representing Roman emperors, and at the far end was a +tribune with a marble throne. This, once the hall of audience, at +present served as a sort of antechamber; here and there loitered a +little group of citizens, some of whom had been waiting since early +morning for speech with the commander; in one corner, soldiers played +at dice, in another a notary was writing at a table before which stood +two ecclesiastics. Voices and footsteps made a faint, confused +reverberation under the immense vault. +</P> + +<P> +Anxiously glancing about him, Basil followed his conductor across the +hall and out into a peristyle, its pavement richly tesselated, and the +portico, still elaborately adorned with work in metal and in marble, +giving proof of still greater magnificence in bygone time; pedestals +had lost their statues, and blank spaces on the wall told of precious +panelling torn off. Beyond, they came to a curtained doorway, where +they were detained for some moments by the sentry; then the curtain was +drawn aside, and Basil found himself in the triclinium of the Flavian +palace, now used by the Greek general as his public reception room. Its +size was not much less than that of the hall of audience; its +decoration in the same grandiose style. Enormous pillars of granite +supported the roof; statues stood, or had stood, all around; the +pavement, composed of serpentine, porphyry, and Numidian marble in many +hues, was a superb work of art. But Basil saw only the human figures +before him. In a chair covered with furs sat a man of middle age, +robust, fair-complexioned, with a keen look in his pale blue eyes and +something of the wolfish about his mouth. Bessas had long ago given +proof of valour, and enjoyed repute as a general, but since his holding +command in Rome, his vices, chief of which was avarice, showed much +more prominently than the virtues which had advanced him; he used the +Imperial authority chiefly to enrich himself, in this respect, it is +true, merely acting in harmony with the Emperor's representative at +Ravenna, and with: the other Greek generals scattered about Italy, but +exhibiting in his methods a shrewdness and an inhumanity not easily +rivalled. Behind his chair stood several subordinates, and on a stool +before him sat a noble recently arrived as envoy from Byzantium. +</P> + +<P> +Having been previously instructed as to his behaviour in this +redoubtable presence, Basil followed the example of Marcian in +approaching with bent head to within a distance of three paces, then +dropping to his knees, and bowing so as almost to touch the ground with +his forehead. He heard a gruff voice command him to rise. +</P> + +<P> +'So this is the heir of the Senator Maximus,' said Bessas, much as he +might have spoken of viewing a horse that interested him. 'What is his +name?' +</P> + +<P> +'Basilius, my lord,' replied Marcian, with grave respect. +</P> + +<P> +'And what is he doing? Why does not a limber lad like that serve the +Emperor?' +</P> + +<P> +'Your Magnanimity will recollect that the lord Basil had permission to +attend Maximus into Campania, whence he is but now returned.' +</P> + +<P> +'Can't he speak for himself?' growled Bessas, turning sharply upon +Marcian. 'You have a tongue, lord Basil? Do you only use it among the +wenches?' +</P> + +<P> +A subdued laugh sounded behind the commander's chair. The envoy from +Byzantium showed more discreet appreciation of the jest. And Basil, his +head bowed, would fain have concealed a face burning with angry shame. +</P> + +<P> +'I will do my best,' he replied in a steady voice, 'to answer any +question your excellence may put to me.' +</P> + +<P> +'Come, that's better,' said the general, with that affectation of bluff +good-nature which always veiled his designs. 'I like the look of you, +my good Basil; who knows but we may be friends? By the bye, was there +not some special reason for your coming to see me?' +</P> + +<P> +'Your excellence summoned me.' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes, yes, I remember. That affair of the Gothic wench.' Bessas checked +himself, glanced at the envoy, and corrected his phrase. 'The Gothic +lady, I would say, who has somehow been spirited out of sight. What can +you tell us of her, lord Basil? It has been whispered to me that if you +cannot lead us to this beauty's hiding-place, nobody can.' +</P> + +<P> +Basil answered in the only way consistent with prudence: he not only +denied all knowledge of where Veranilda was to be found, but spoke as +though her fate had little or no interest for him, whereas he professed +himself greatly troubled by the disappearance of his cousin Aurelia. It +seemed that Petronilla did not purpose delivering Veranilda to the +Greeks. Perhaps she did not yet understand the import of their inquiry. +That it was she who held Veranilda prisoner he had less doubt than +ever, and boldly he declared his conviction. But even, whilst speaking, +he thought with dread of the possibility of Veranilda's being delivered +to Bessas; for who could assure him that this sinister-looking Thracian +would respect the mandate received from Byzantium? On the other hand, +who could say to what sufferings and perils his beloved was exposed +whilst Petronilla's captive? He preferred the risks to follow upon her +surrender. Did he but know where she was there would at least be a hope +of rescuing her. +</P> + +<P> +'By Christ!' exclaimed Bessas, when he had listened intently to all +Basil's replies, 'this is a strange business. I begin to think, +excellent lord Basil, that you are as much deceived in your suspicions +of the lady Petronilla as she is in her suspicions of you. These two +wenches—ladies, I would say—may have reasons of their own for hiding; +or somebody of whom you know nothing may have carried them off. How is +this Aurelia to look upon? Young and comely, I warrant.' +</P> + +<P> +Basil briefly described his cousin; whereupon the listener gave a shrug. +</P> + +<P> +'We will talk of it again, to-morrow or the day after. Hold yourself in +readiness, lord Basil—you hear?—to come when bidden. And, hark you, +bring the senator's will, that I may look it over myself. Trust me, I +will see that this lady Aurelia suffers no wrong; if necessary, I will +myself hold her property in trust. They tell me she is a heretic—that +must be inquired into. But take no thought for the matter, my good +Basil; trust me, you shall be relieved from all responsibilities. Go in +peace!' +</P> + +<P> +Bessas rose, impatient to have done with business. In the little +hippodrome, hard by, an entertainment had been prepared for this +afternoon: female equestrians were to perform perilous feats; there was +to be a fight between a man and a boar; with other trifles, such as +served to pass the time till dinner. In the entrance hall waited +messengers from Ravenna, who for hours had urgently requested audience; +but, partly because he knew that their despatches would be +disagreeable, in part because he liked playing at royalty, the +commander put them off till to-morrow. Even so did he postpone an +inspection of a certain part of the city wall, repeatedly suggested to +him by one of his subordinates. Leisure and accumulation of wealth were +obscuring the man's soldierly qualities. He gave little heed to the +progress of the war, and scoffed at the fear that Totila might ere long +march against Rome. +</P> + +<P> +Basil walked in gloomy silence. The interview had inflamed his pride. +Mentally he repeated the oath never to acquiesce in this Byzantine +tyranny, and he burned for the opportunity of open war against it. When +they were at a safe distance from the Palatine, Marcian warned his +friend against the Greek's indulgent manner; let him not suppose that +Bessas spoke one word sincerely. +</P> + +<P> +'His aim at present, I see, is to put you off your guard; and doubtless +he is playing the like game with Petronilla. You will be spied upon, +day and night—I myself, you understand, being one of the spies, but +only one, unfortunately. This Thracian is not so easy to deal with as +the Hun at Cumae. There have been moments when I thought he suspected +me. If ever I vanish, Basil—' +</P> + +<P> +He ceased with a significant look. +</P> + +<P> +'Why does Totila delay?' exclaimed Basil, with a passionate gesture. +</P> + +<P> +'He delays not. It is wisdom to conquer Campania before coming hither. +Another month will see him before Neapolis.' +</P> + +<P> +'Could I but find Veranilda, make her my own, and put her in safety, I +would go straight to the king's camp, and serve him as best I might.' +</P> + +<P> +Marcian looked steadily at the speaker, smiling strangely. +</P> + +<P> +'Why do you look at me so?' cried Basil. 'You doubt me? You distrust my +courage?' +</P> + +<P> +'Not for a moment. But why should this depend upon the finding of +Veranilda, my best Basil? Having found her, having made her your own, +will it be easier than now to take your chance of death or of +captivity? When was a Roman wont to let his country's good wait upon +his amorous desire?' +</P> + +<P> +They were on the Sacred Way, between the Basilica of Constantine and +the Atrium of Vesta. Struck to the heart by his friend's words, words +such as Marcian had never yet addressed to him, Basil stood mute and +let his eyes wander: he gazed at the Forum, at the temples beyond it, +at the Capitol with its desecrated sanctuary of Jupiter towering above. +Here, where the citizens once thronged about their business and their +pleasure, only a few idlers were in view, a few peasants with carts, +and a drove of bullocks just come in from the country. +</P> + +<P> +'You would have me forget her?' he said at length, in a voice +distressfully subdued. +</P> + +<P> +'I spoke only as I thought.' +</P> + +<P> +'And your thought condemned me—despised me, Marcian?' +</P> + +<P> +'Not so. Pitied you rather, as one whose noble nature has fallen into +trammels. Have you not long known, O Basil, how I think of the thing +called love?' +</P> + +<P> +'Because you have never known it!' exclaimed Basil. 'My love is my +life. Having lost Veranilda, I have lost myself; without her I can do +nothing. Were she dead I could fling myself into the struggle with our +enemies, all the fiercer because I should care not whether I lived or +died; but to lose her thus, to know that she may be in Rome, longing +for me as I for her—to think that we may never hold each other's hands +again—oh, it tears my heart, and makes me weak as a child. You cannot +understand me; you have never loved!' +</P> + +<P> +'May such knowledge be far from me!' said Marcian, with unwonted +vehemence. 'Do you feel no shame in being so subdued to the flesh?' +</P> + +<P> +'Shame? Shame in the thought that I love Veranilda?' +</P> + +<P> +Marcian seemed to make an effort to control a passion that wrought in +him; he was paler than of wont, and, instead of the familiar irony, a +cold, if not cruel, austerity appeared in his eyes and on his lips. He +shunned Basil's astonished gaze. +</P> + +<P> +'Let us not speak of this,' broke from him impatiently. 'You understand +me as little as I you. Forgive me, Basil—I have been talking idly—I +scarce know what I said. It is sometimes thus with me. Something takes +hold upon me, and I speak at random. Come, come, dear friend of my +heart, we will find your Veranilda; trust me, we will.' +</P> + +<P> +Three days went by, then Basil was summoned again to the Palatine, +where he had an interview with Bessas alone. This time the commander +hardly spoke of Veranilda; his talk was of the possessions left by +Maximus, whose testament, when he had read it, he said that he would +take care of until the lost daughter was discovered; he inquired +closely, too, as to Basil's own wealth, and let fall a remark that the +Roman nobles would soon be called upon to support the army fighting for +their liberties against the barbarians. When next called, let Basil +have ready and bring with him an exact statement of the money in his +hands, and of the income he expected to derive from his property during +the present year. Thereupon he was dismissed with a nod and a smile, +which made him quiver in rage for an hour after. This happened in early +morning. The day was overcast, and a cold wind blew from the mountains; +Basil had never known such misery as fell upon him when he re-entered +his gloomy, silent house. On the way home he had passed two +funerals—their hurried aspect proving that the dead were victims of +the plague, that <I>lues inguinaria</I> which had broken out in Italy two +years ago, and with varying intensity continued throughout the land. +Throwing himself down upon a couch, he moaned in utter wretchedness, +fearful of the pestilence, yet saying to himself that he cared not if +it seized upon him. His moans became sobs; he wept for a long time, +then lay, half soothed by the burst of hysterical passion, with eyes +turned blankly to the ceiling and a hand clenched upon his breast. +</P> + +<P> +In his solitude he often talked with Felix, and more intimately perhaps +than with either Decius or Marcian. This trusty servant held +communication with a man in the household of Petronilla, and from him +learnt what he could as to the lady's movements; but nothing was as yet +discoverable which threw light on the mystery of Aurelia and Veranilda. +To-day, however, Felix returned from the other side of the Tiber with +what sounded like important news. Petronilla had left home this morning +in her carriage, had gone forth from the city by one of the southern +gates, and, after an absence of two or three hours, had returned, +bringing with her some one, a woman, whom she took into her house and +kept there in privacy. He who related this to Felix declared that his +mistress had only visited the church of her patron saint on the Via +Ardeatina, but who the woman might be that she had brought back with +her, he did not pretend to know. This story so excited Basil that he +would have hastened forthwith across the Tiber, had not Felix persuaded +him that at this late hour nothing could be done. After a sleepless +night he set out at sunrise, accompanied by Felix alone. Whether he +would be admitted at Petronilla's door was quite uncertain; in any +case, it would serve no purpose to go thither with a band of +attendants, for the Anician house was sure to be strongly guarded. All +he could do was to present himself in the hope of seeing Petronilla, +and take his chance of learning something from her when they stood face +to face. +</P> + +<P> +On horseback he went down by the Clivus Scauri, followed the road +between the Circus Maximus and the Aventine, crossed the river by the +Aemilian bridge (the nearer bridge of Probus was falling into ruins), +and then turned to the left. This part of the transtiberine district +was inhabited by poor folk. Something unusual seemed to have happened +among them just now: groups stood about in eager talk, and a little +further on, in front of a church, a noisy crowd was assembled, with +soldiers among them. Having made inquiry, Felix explained the +disturbance to his master. It was due to the rapacity of the Greek +commander, who, scorning no gain, however small, was seizing upon the +funds of the trade guilds; this morning the common chest of the potters +had been pillaged, not without resistance, which resulted in the death +of a soldier; the slayer had fled to St. Cecilia's church, and taken +sanctuary. Basil's feeling, as he listened, was one of renewed +bitterness against the Greeks; but to the potters themselves he gave +little thought, such folk and their wrongs appearing of small moment to +one of his birth. +</P> + +<P> +Pursuing the road towards the Portuensian Gate, he was soon in sight of +the palace where for generations had dwelt the heads of the Anician +family. It lay on a gentle slope above the river, at the foot of the +Janiculan Hill; around it spread public porticoes, much decayed, and +what had once been ornamental gardens, now the pasture of goats. As +Basil had expected, he was kept waiting without the doors until the +porter had received orders regarding him. Permitted at length to enter, +he passed by a number of slaves who stood, as if on guard, in the +atrium, and, though seeming to be alone in the room beyond, he heard +subdued voices from behind the curtains of the doorways, which told him +that he was under observation. All parts of this great house were +perfectly familiar to him, and had it been possible to conduct a +search, he would soon have ascertained whether she he sought was kept +imprisoned here; but, unless he took the place by storm, how could he +hope to make any discovery? Whilst he was impatiently reflecting, +Petronilla entered. She moved towards him with her wonted dignity of +mien, but in the look with which she examined him, as she paused at two +paces' distance, it was easy to perceive distrust, and a certain +inquietude. +</P> + +<P> +'Your leisure at length permits you to visit me, dear lord Basil,' she +began coldly. +</P> + +<P> +'My leisure, indeed,' he replied, 'has not been great since the day on +which you left Surrentum. But the more plainly we speak to each other +the better. I come now to ask whether you will release Veranilda to me, +instead of waiting until you are compelled to release her to the +Greeks.' +</P> + +<P> +Before replying, Petronilla clapped her hands, then stood waiting for a +moment, and said at length: +</P> + +<P> +'You can now speak without hearers. I did not think you would be so +imprudent in your words. Go on: say what you will.' +</P> + +<P> +She seated herself, and looked at Basil with a contemptuous smile. He, +surprised by her behaviour, spoke on with angry carelessness. +</P> + +<P> +'I neither cared before, nor do I now, if any of your servants overhear +me. No more credit would be given to anything they told of me than is +given to what you yourself say I might begin by warning you of the +dangers to which you are exposed, but no doubt you have calculated +them, and think the price not too much to pay for your revenge. Well, +with your revenge I have no wish to interfere. Hold Aurelia prisoner as +long as you will, or as long as you can. I speak only of Veranilda, +against whom you can feel no enmity. Will you release her to me? It +will only be anticipating by a few days her release to Bessas. +Veranilda in his hands, trust me, he will care little what becomes of +Aurelia.' +</P> + +<P> +'I listen to you,' replied Petronilla, 'because I am curious to learn +into what extravagances your ignoble passion drives you. I had been +told, but could hardly believe, that you charged me with having seized +these women. Now I see that you really are foolish enough to think it.' +She threw her head back in a silent laugh of scorn. 'Child—for you are +a child in wit though man in years—do you not live at large in Rome, +free to come and go as you will?' +</P> + +<P> +'What of that?' +</P> + +<P> +'Am not I also a free woman? Did I not yesterday visit the church of +the blessed Petronilla, and might I not, if so I had willed, have +escaped instead of returning to the city?' +</P> + +<P> +'What has this to do with the matter?' demanded Basil. +</P> + +<P> +'Child! child!' cried the other, as if with boundless contempt. 'You +ask that, knowing why this Veranilda is sought by the Greeks? Were they +truly still in search of her, and were you, were I, suspected of +keeping her hidden, do you suppose we should be free, and not rather +locked as close as any prison in Rome could hold us?' +</P> + +<P> +The listener stood mute. So vehement was Petronilla's speech, and so +convincing, thus delivered, seemed her argument, that Basil felt his +heart sink. Had she, then, outwitted him? Was he really playing the +part of a simpleton, at whom people laughed? He remembered the seeming +indifference of Bessas touching Veranilda at the second interview, +natural enough if the maiden had already passed into the Greek's hands. +Two days ago Marcian had told him that Petronilla must needs be aware +of Veranilda's importance, seeing that it was now common knowledge in +Roman society. But a thought flashed into his mind, and he lifted up +his head again. +</P> + +<P> +'This is not true!' he exclaimed. 'If Bessas had found her, I should +have known it.' +</P> + +<P> +'Pray, how? Does your foolish little lordship imagine that Bessas must +needs have told you all he has done?' +</P> + +<P> +'Bessas? no,' he answered, his eyes burning with hatred as they +searched her face. 'But I have other means of learning the truth. You +try vainly to deceive me.' +</P> + +<P> +'As you will, good nephew,' said the lady, as if indulgently. 'Believe +as you list, and talk on, for you entertain me.' +</P> + +<P> +'One thing I have to say,' pursued Basil, 'which you will perhaps find +less amusing.' He had lost control of himself, and spoke in a low tone +of fierce menace, all his body quivering. 'If I learn that Veranilda is +in the hands of the Greeks, and that <I>you</I> delivered her to them—by +the God above us, your life shall pay for it.' +</P> + +<P> +Petronilla's face hardened till its cruel sternness outdid any +expression of hatred possible to Basil's features. +</P> + +<P> +'Keep your ruffian threats for more suitable occasion, such as you will +find among your friends the Goths.' She spoke coldly and deliberately. +'If enslavement to a yellow-haired barbarian had not muddled your wits, +you would long ago have seen who it was that has played you false.' +</P> + +<P> +Basil stared at her, his passion chilled with surprise and alarm. +</P> + +<P> +'Played me false!' he echoed involuntarily. +</P> + +<P> +'Who is it,' continued Petronilla with slow scorn, 'that you have +trusted blindly? To whom have you looked for guidance and protection? +Who has fostered your suspicion against <I>me</I>?' +</P> + +<P> +An intolerable pang went through the listener's heart. +</P> + +<P> +'That's but another lie!' he exclaimed furiously. 'O basest of women +born!' +</P> + +<P> +A hand was upon his dagger. Petronilla rose and stepped back a little, +glancing towards one of the drawn curtains. +</P> + +<P> +'You have threatened my life,' she said in an undertone. 'Remember that +it is you who are in my power. If I raise my voice on one word, the +next moment you will lie pierced by a score of weapons. Moderate your +insults: my temper is not meek.' +</P> + +<P> +Basil thought for a moment with painful intentness. +</P> + +<P> +'Speak plainly,' he said at length. 'You would have me suspect—? I am +ashamed to utter the name.' +</P> + +<P> +'Keep it to yourself and muse upon it.' +</P> + +<P> +'You dare bid me think that he, my dearest and most loyal friend, has +infamously betrayed me? Now I know indeed that you have lied to me in +every word, for this is the last audacity of baseness. You hope to +poison my soul against him, and so, whilst guarding yourself, bring +more evil upon those you hate. But you have overreached yourself. Only +cunning driven desperate could have devised this trick. Listen to me +again, before it is too late. Give me Veranilda. I take upon myself all +the peril. It shall be made to appear that I have all along kept her in +hiding, and that you knew nothing of her. Be advised before the worst +comes upon you. I will escape with her to a place of safety that I know +of; <I>you</I> will be declared innocent, and no one will care to ask what +has become of Aurelia. Think well; you spoke of prisons, but the Greeks +have worse than imprisonment for those who incur their wrath. Will +Bessas forego revenge when, after much trouble, he has wrested the +captive from your hands? Think!' +</P> + +<P> +Petronilla's countenance, fixed as a face in marble, still suggested no +thought save one of scorn; but there was a brief silence before she +replied. +</P> + +<P> +'I would not have believed,' she said calmly, 'that a man could be so +besotted with foolish passions. Listen, you in turn. Where those women +are, I know as little as do you yourself. I think, and have good reason +for thinking, that the Goth is already on her way to Constantinople, +but I have no certainty of it. The one thing I do surely know, is that +you are hoodwinked and baffled by the man you trust.' +</P> + +<P> +A groan of rage and anguish broke from Basil. He wrung his bands +together. +</P> + +<P> +'You lie! A thousand times you lie! Either Veranilda or Aurelia is in +this house. Who was it you brought back with you yesterday when you +returned from beyond the walls?' +</P> + +<P> +The listener uttered a short, fierce laugh. +</P> + +<P> +'So that is what brought you here? O fool! Think you I should have no +more wisdom than that? Since you must needs pry into my doings +yesterday, you shall hear them. I went to the church of the holy +Petronilla, to pray there against all the dangers that environ +me—against the wiles of the wicked, the cruelty of violent men, the +sickness which is rife about us. And when I rose from before the altar, +the servant of God who passes his life there, who is pleased to regard +me with kindness, led me apart into the sacristy, where sat a woman who +had lost her sight. She had travelled, he told me, from Mediolanum, +because of a vision in which she had been bidden to seek the tomb of +the daughter of the chief Apostle; and, whilst praying in the church, +her darkness had been illumined by a vision of the saint herself, who +bade her go into the city, and abide in the house of the first who +offered her welcome, and there at length she would surely receive her +sight. So I spoke with the woman, who, though in poverty, is of noble +blood, and when I had offered to make her welcome, she gladly came with +me, and straightway we returned to Rome. And I brought with me oil from +the lamp of the saint, wherewith, at the hours of prayer, I cross my +forehead, that no evil may befall me. So, you have heard. Believe or +not, as you list, O Basil.' +</P> + +<P> +Whether true or not, Basil had no choice but to accept the story. He +looked helplessly about him. If by killing this woman he could have +obtained liberty to search through every chamber of the great house, +his dagger would have leapt at her breast; and that Petronilla well +knew; whence the defiant look in her eyes as they watched his slightest +movement. +</P> + +<P> +'What is your next question?' she said. 'I am at leisure for a little +longer.' +</P> + +<P> +'If Veranilda is in the hands of the Greeks, where is Aurelia?' +</P> + +<P> +'I should be glad to think,' replied the lady, 'that she has withdrawn +from the world to expiate her sins.' +</P> + +<P> +'Would you have me believe that Marcian knows that secret also?' +</P> + +<P> +'I respect your innocence,' answered Petronilla, with a smile, 'and +will say no more.' +</P> + +<P> +Again Basil stood for a moment voiceless in wrath. Then he threw up an +arm, and spoke with terrible vehemence. +</P> + +<P> +'Woman, if you have lied to me, wickedly seeking to put enmity between +me and my friend, may the pest smite you, and may you perish unforgiven +of man and God!' +</P> + +<P> +Petronilla blanched not. For one instant he glared at her, and was gone. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap12"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +HELIODORA +</H3> + +<P> +Marcian's abode was in the Via Lata, the thoroughfare which ran +straight and broad, directly northwards, from the Capitoline Hill to +the Flaminian Gate. Hard by were the headquarters of the city watch, a +vast building, now tenanted by a few functionaries whose authority had +fallen into contempt; and that long colonnade of Hadrian, called the +Septa, where merchants once exposed their jewels and fabrics to the +crowd of sauntering wealthy, and where nowadays a few vendors of slaves +did their business amid the crumbling columns. Surrounded by these +monuments of antiquity, the few private residences still inhabited had +a dreary, if not a mean, aspect. Some of them—and Marcian's dwelling +was one—had been built in latter times with material taken from temple +or portico or palace in ruins; thus they combined richness of detail +with insignificant or clumsy architecture. An earthquake of a few years +ago, followed by a great inundation of the Tiber, had wrought disaster +among these modern structures. A pillar of Marcian's porch, broken into +three pieces, had ever since been lying before the house, and a marble +frieze, superb carving of the Antonine age, which ran across the +facade, showed gaps where pieces had been shattered away. +</P> + +<P> +His family, active in public services under Theodoric, had suffered +great losses in the early years of the war; and Marcian, who, as a very +young man, held a post under the Praetorian Prefect at Ravenna, found +himself reduced to narrow circumstances. After the fall of Ravenna, he +came to Rome (accompanied on the journey by Basil, with whom his +intimacy then began), and ere long, necessity driving him to expedients +for which he had no natural inclination, he entered upon that life of +double treachery which he had avowed to his friend. As the world went, +Marcian was an honest man: he kept before him an ideal of personal +rectitude; he believed himself, and hitherto with reason, incapable of +falsity to those who trusted him in the relations of private life. +Moreover, he had a sense of religion, which at times, taking the form +of an overpowering sense of sin, plunged him into gloom. Though +burdened in conscience with no crime, he was subject in a notable +degree to that malady of his world, the disposition to regard all human +kind, and himself especially, as impure, depraved. Often at the mercy +of his passions, he refrained from marriage chiefly on this very +account, the married state seeming to him a mere compromise with the +evil of the flesh; but in his house were two children, born to him by a +slave now dead, and these he would already have sent into a monastery, +but that human affection struggled against what he deemed duty. The man +lived in dread of eternal judgment; he could not look at a setting sun +without having his thought turned to the fires of hell, and a night of +wakefulness, common enough in his imperfect health, shook him with +horrors unutterable. Being of such mind and temper, it was strange that +he had not long ago joined the multitude of those who day by day fled +from worldly life into ascetic seclusion; what withheld him was a spark +of the ancestral spirit, some drops of the old Roman blood, prompting +his human nature to assert and justify itself. Hence the sympathy +between him and Basil, both being capable of patriotism, and feeling a +desire in the depths of their hearts to live as they would have lived +had they been born in an earlier time. But whereas Basil nursed this +disposition, regarding it as altogether laudable, Marcian could only +see in it an outcome of original sin, and after every indulgence of +such mundane thoughts did penance as for something worse than weakness. +His father had died in an anguish of compunction for a life stained +with sensuality; his mother had killed herself by excessive rigours of +penitence; these examples were ever before his mind. Yet he seldom +spoke, save to spiritual counsellors, of this haunting trouble, and +only the bitterness of envy, an envy entirely human, had drawn from him +the words which so astonished Basil in their last conversation. Indeed, +the loves of Basil and Veranilda made a tumult in his soul; at times it +seemed to him that he hated his friend, so intolerable was the jealousy +that racked him. Veranilda he had never seen, but the lover's rapture +had created in his imagination a face and form of matchless beauty +which he could not cease from worshipping. He took this for a +persecution of the fiend, and strove against it by all methods known to +him. About his body he wore things that tortured; he fasted to the +point of exhaustion; he slept—if sleep came to him—on a bare stone +floor; some hours of each day he spent in visiting churches, where he +prayed ardently. +</P> + +<P> +Basil, when he had rushed forth from the Anicianum, rode straightway to +the Via Lata, and presented himself at Marcian's door. The porter said +that his master had been absent since dawn, but Basil none the less +entered, and, in the room where he and his friend were wont to talk, +threw himself upon a couch to wait. He lay sunk in the most sombre +thoughts, until at the door appeared Sagaris, who with the wonted suave +servility, begged permission to speak to him. +</P> + +<P> +'Speak on,' said Basil gloomily, fixing his eyes upon the oriental +visage, so little reassuring to one harassed by suspicions. +</P> + +<P> +'It is regarding my dear lord, Illustrious, that I would say a humble +word, if your nobility will bear with me.' +</P> + +<P> +'What can that be?' +</P> + +<P> +'I am guilty, I know, of much presumption, but I entreat your +nobility's patience, for in truth it is only my love and my fears that +embolden me to speak. What I would make known to you, Illustrious, is +that for more than two whole days my dear lord has not broken bread. +Since our return to Rome he has fasted all but continuously, at the +same time inflicting upon himself many other penances of the severest +kind. For this, I well know, he will have his reward in the eternal +life; but when I note his aspect, I am overcome with fear lest we +should lose him too soon. This morning, when I was helping him to +dress, he sank down, and lay for a time as one dead. My lord would +rebuke me severely if he knew that I had ventured to speak of these +things; but with you, Illustrious, I feel that I am in no danger. You +will understand me, and pardon me.' +</P> + +<P> +Basil had raised himself to a sitting position. Supporting himself on +one hand, he stared straight before him, and only spoke when a movement +on the part of the servant betrayed impatience. +</P> + +<P> +'This has gone on, you say, since your return to Rome? Was it your +lord's habit to do such penance on his travels?' +</P> + +<P> +'Never in this extreme, though I have always marvelled at his piety.' +</P> + +<P> +Again Basil kept a long silence. +</P> + +<P> +'You have done well to tell me,' he said at length; then, with a wave +of the hand, dismissed the Syrian. +</P> + +<P> +It was nearly mid-day when Marcian returned. At the sight of Basil his +pale, weary countenance assumed a troubled smile. He embraced his +friend, kissing him affectionately on both cheeks, and sat down by him +with a sigh of fatigue. +</P> + +<P> +'What makes you so wan?' asked Basil, peering into his eyes. +</P> + +<P> +'I sleep ill.' +</P> + +<P> +'Why so? Is it pain or thought that keeps you wakeful?' +</P> + +<P> +'Both, perhaps,' answered Marcian. He paused, reflected gloomily, and +went on in a subdued voice. 'Do you think often, Basil, of the eternal +fire?' +</P> + +<P> +'Not often. Sometimes, of course.' +</P> + +<P> +'Last night I had a dream, which assuredly was a temptation of the evil +one. My father stood before me, and said, "Fear not, Marcian, for there +is no Gehenna. It is but the vision of man's tormented conscience." And +I awoke with a great joy. But at once the truth came upon me; and until +dawn I prayed for strength to resist that perilous solace. This morning +I have talked long with a holy man, opening my heart to him, that he +might finally resolve my doubts. I said to him: "Slaves who have +committed a fault are punished that they may amend. To what purpose is +the punishment of the wicked after death, since there can be no +amendment?" and he replied: "My son, the wicked are punished in Gehenna +that the just may feel gratitude to the divine grace which has +preserved them from such a doom." "But," I objected, "ought not the +just to pray for their enemies in such evil case?" His answer was +prompt: "The time for prayer is past. The blessed concur in the +judgment of God!"' +</P> + +<P> +Basil listened with bent head. +</P> + +<P> +'Maximus,' he said presently, 'often doubted of eternal torment; and my +cousin Decius has more than once confessed to me that he believes it +not at all, being strengthened therein by his friend the philosopher +Simplicius. I, O Marcian, would fain think it a dream—yet there are +evil doings in this world which make me fear that it may be true.' +</P> + +<P> +'You have seen Bessas again?' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes. And I have seen Petronilla.' +</P> + +<P> +His eyes on the listener, Basil recounted his conversation of this +morning, all save that part of it which related to Marcian. He could +detect no sign of guilty uneasiness in his friend's face, but saw that +Marcian grew very thoughtful. +</P> + +<P> +'Is not this a shamelessness in falsehood which passes belief?' were +his last words. +</P> + +<P> +'If indeed it be falsehood,' replied Marcian, meeting the other's eyes. +'I will confess that, this day or two, I have suspected Bessas of +knowing more than he pretends.' +</P> + +<P> +'What?' Basil exclaimed. 'You think Veranilda is really in his power?' +</P> + +<P> +Marcian answered with a return to the old irony. +</P> + +<P> +'I would not venture to set bounds to the hypocrisy and the mendacity +and the pertinacity of woman, but, after another conversation with +Petronilla, I am shaken in my belief that she still holds her +prisoners. She may, in truth, have surrendered them. What makes me +inclined to think it, is the fierceness with which she now turns on +<I>me</I>, accusing me of the whole plot from the first. That, look you, +would be sweet revenge to a woman defeated. Why,' he added, with a +piercing but kindly look, 'do you hide from me that she sought to +persuade you of my treachery? Is it, O Basil, because you feared lest +she spoke the truth?' +</P> + +<P> +Flushing under that honest gaze, Basil sprang up and seized his +friend's hand. Tears came into his eyes as he avowed the truth and +entreated pardon. +</P> + +<P> +'It was only because misery has made me all but mad. Nay, I <I>knew</I> that +she lied, but I could not rest till I had the assurance of it from your +own lips. You think, then, dearest Marcian, that Veranilda is lost to +me for ever? You believe it is true that she is already on the way to +Constantinople?' +</P> + +<P> +Marcian hoped it with all his heart, for with the disappearance of +Veranilda this strange, evil jealousy of his would fade away; and he +had many reasons for thinking that the loss of his Gothic love would be +the best thing that could happen to Basil. At the same time, he felt +his friend's suffering, and could not bring himself to inflict another +wound. +</P> + +<P> +'If so,' he replied, 'the Greek has less confidence in me than I +thought, and I must take it as a warning. It may be. On the other hand, +there is the possibility that Petronilla's effrontery outwits us all. +Of course she has done her best to ruin both of us, and perhaps is +still trying to persuade Bessas that you keep Veranilda in hiding, +whilst I act as your accomplice. If this be the case, we shall both of +us know the smell of a prison before long, and perchance the taste of +torture. What say you? Shall we wait for that chance, or speed away +into Campania, and march with the king against Neapolis?' +</P> + +<P> +Though he smiled, there was no mistaking Marcian's earnestness. For the +moment he had shaken off his visions of Tartarus, and was his saner +self once more. +</P> + +<P> +'If I knew that she has gone!' cried Basil wretchedly. 'If I knew!' +</P> + +<P> +'So you take your chance?' +</P> + +<P> +'Listen! You speak of prison, of torture. Marcian, can you not help, me +to capture that woman, and to get from her the truth?' +</P> + +<P> +Basil's face grew terrible as he spoke. He quivered, his teeth ground +together. +</P> + +<P> +'I, too, have thought of it,' replied the other coldly. 'But it is +difficult and dangerous.' +</P> + +<P> +They talked yet awhile, until Marcian, who looked cadaverous, declared +his need of food, and they went to the mid-day meal. +</P> + +<P> +A few days went by. Basil was occupied with the business of his +inheritance. He had messengers to despatch to estates in Lucania and +Apulia. Then came news that a possession of Maximus' in the south had +been invaded and seized by a neighbour; for which outrage there was +little hope of legal remedy in the present state of affairs; only by +the strong hand could Basil vindicate his right. Trouble was caused him +by a dispute with one of the legatees, a poor kinsman who put an +unexpected interpretation upon the item of the will which concerned +him. Another poor kinsman, to whom Maximus had bequeathed a share in +certain property in Rome, wished to raise money on this security. Basil +himself could not lend the desired sum, for, though lord of great +estates, he found himself after Chorsoman's pillage of the strong room +at Surrentum, scarcely able to meet immediate claims upon him under the +will; but he consented to accompany his relative to a certain +moneychanger, of whom perchance a loan might be obtained. This man of +business, an Alexandrian, had his office on the Capitoline Hill, in +that open space between the Capitol and the Arx, where merchants were +still found; he sat in a shadowed corner of a portico, before him a +little table on which coins were displayed, and at his back a small +dark shop, whence came a confused odour of stuffs and spices. Long and +difficult were the negotiations. To Basil's surprise, the Alexandrian, +though treating him with the utmost respect, evidently gave little +weight to his guarantee in money matters; as to property in Rome, he +seemed to regard it as the most insubstantial of securities. Only on +gems and precious metals would he consent to lend a sum of any +importance. +</P> + +<P> +Whilst this debate was in progress, a litter, gaudy and luxurious, +borne by eight slaves clad in yellow, with others like them before and +behind, came to a stop close by, and from it alighted a lady whose +gorgeous costume matched the brilliance of her vehicle and retinue. She +was young and beautiful, with dark, oriental features, and a bearing +which aimed at supremity of arrogance. Having stepped down, she stood +at the edge of the portico, languidly gazing this way and that, with +the plain intention of exhibiting herself to the loiterers whom her +appearance drew together; at every slightest movement, the clink of +metal sounded from her neck, her arms, her ankles; stones glistened on +her brow and on her hands; about her she shed a perfume like that +wafted from the Arabian shore. +</P> + +<P> +The Greek merchant, as soon as he was aware of her arrival, ran forward +and stood obsequiously before her, until she deigned to notice him. +</P> + +<P> +'I would speak with you. See that we are private.' +</P> + +<P> +'Noble lady,' he replied, 'the lord Basilius, heir of the Senator +Maximus, is within. I will straightway beg him to defer his business.' +</P> + +<P> +The lady turned and gazed into the dusky shop. +</P> + +<P> +'He is not alone, I see.' +</P> + +<P> +'A kinsman is with him, noble lady.' +</P> + +<P> +'Then bid the kinsman go his way, and keep apart, you, until you are +summoned. I will speak for a moment with the lord Basilius.' +</P> + +<P> +The Alexandrian, masking a smile, drew near to Basil, and whispered +that the lady Heliodora demanded to see him alone. A gesture of +annoyance was the first reply, but, after an instant's reflection, +Basil begged his kinsman to withdraw. Heliodora then entered the shop, +which was nothing more than an open recess, with a stone counter half +across the entrance, and behind it a couple of wooden stools. Upon one +of these the lady seated herself, and Basil, who had greeted her only +with a movement of the head, stood waiting. +</P> + +<P> +'So you will not sup with me?' began Heliodora, in a voice of bantering +indifference. 'You will not come to see me? You will not write to me? +It is well. I care less than the clipping of a finger-nail.' +</P> + +<P> +'So I would have it,' Basil replied coldly. +</P> + +<P> +'Good. Then we are both satisfied. This is much better than making +pretence of what we don't feel, and playing a comedy with our two +selves for spectators. You amused me for a while; that is over; now you +amuse me in another way. Turn a little towards the light. Let me have a +look at your pretty face, Basilidion.' +</P> + +<P> +She spoke with a Greek accent, mingling now and then with the Roman +speech a Greek word or exclamation, and her voice, sonorous rather than +melodious, one moment seemed about to strike the note of anger, at +another seemed softening to tenderness. +</P> + +<P> +'With your leave,' said Basil, 'I will be gone. I have matters of some +importance to attend to.' +</P> + +<P> +'With your leave,' echoed Heliodora, 'I will detain you yet a little. +For you, Basilidion, there is only one matter of importance, and it may +be that I can serve you better therein than any you esteem your graver +friends. There, now, I see your face. Holy Mary I how wan and worn it +is. From my heart I pity you, Basilidion. Come now, tell me the story. +I have heard fifty versions, some credible, some plain fable. Confide +in me; who knows but I may help you.' +</P> + +<P> +'Scoff as you will,' was his answer. 'It is your privilege. But in +truth, lady, I have little time to waste.' +</P> + +<P> +'And in truth, lord, your courtesy has suffered since you began to peck +and pine for this little Hun.' +</P> + +<P> +'Hun?' +</P> + +<P> +'Oh, I cry pardon! Goth, I should have said. Indeed, there are degrees +of barbarism—but, as you will. I say again, I care not the clipping of +my smallest nail.' She held her hand towards him; very white it was, +and soft and shapely, but burdened with too many rings. 'Tell me all, +and I will help you. Tell me nothing, and have nothing for your pains.' +</P> + +<P> +'Help me?' exclaimed Basil, in scornful impatience. 'Am I such a fool +as to think you would wish to help me, even if you could?' +</P> + +<P> +'Listen to me, Basil.' She spoke in a deep note which was half +friendliness, half menace. 'I am not wont to have my requests refused. +Leave me thus, and you have one more enemy—an enemy more to be dreaded +than all the rest. Already I know something of this story, and I can +know the whole of it as soon as I will; but what I want now is to hear +the truth about your part in it. You have lost your little Goth; of +that I need no assurance. But tell me how it came about.' +</P> + +<P> +Basil stood with bent head. In the portico, at a little distance, there +began to sound the notes of a flute played by some itinerant musician. +</P> + +<P> +'You dare refuse me?' said Heliodora, after waiting a moment. 'You are +a bolder man than I thought.' +</P> + +<P> +'Ask what you wish to know,' broke from the other. 'Recount to you I +will not. Put questions, and I will reply if I think fit.' +</P> + +<P> +'Good.' +</P> + +<P> +Heliodora smiled, with a movement which made all her trappings of +precious metal jingle as though triumphantly. And she began to +question, tracking out all Basil's relations with Veranilda from their +first meeting at Cumae to the day of the maiden's disappearance. His +answers, forced from him partly by vague fear, partly by as vague a +hope, were the briefest possible, but in every case he told the truth. +</P> + +<P> +'It is well,' said Heliodora, when the interrogation was over. 'Poor, +poor Basilidion! How ill he has been used! And not even a kiss from the +little Goth. Or am I mistaken? Perhaps—' +</P> + +<P> +'Be silent!' exclaimed Basil harshly. +</P> + +<P> +'Oh, I will not pry into chaste secrets. For the present, enough. Go +your ways, Basil, and take courage. I keep faith, as you know; and that +I am disposed to be your friend is not your standing here, alive and +well, a sufficient proof?' +</P> + +<P> +She had risen, and, as she uttered these words, her eyes gleamed large +in the dusk. +</P> + +<P> +'When you wish to see me,' she added, 'come to my house. To you it is +always open. I may perchance send you a message. If so, pay heed to it.' +</P> + +<P> +Basil was turning away. +</P> + +<P> +'What! Not even the formal courtesy? Your manners have indeed declined, +my poor Basil.' +</P> + +<P> +With an abrupt, awkward movement, he took her half offered hand, and +touched the rings with his lips; then hastened away. +</P> + +<P> +On the edge of the cluster of idlers who were listening to the flute +player stood his needy kinsman. Basil spoke with him for a moment, +postponed their business, and, with a sign to the two slaves in +attendance, walked on. By the Clivus Argentarius he descended to the +Forum. In front of the Curia stood the state' carriage of the City +Prefect, for the Senate had been called together this morning to hear +read some decree newly arrived from Byzantium; and as Basil drew near +he saw the Prefect, with senators about him, come forth and descend the +steps. These dignitaries, who wore with but ill grace the ancient toga, +were evidently little pleased by what they had heard; they talked under +their breath together, many of them, no doubt, recalling sadly the +honour they were wont to receive from King Theodoric. As their +president drove away, Basil, gazing idly after the <I>carpentum</I>, felt +himself touched on the arm; he looked round and saw Decius, whose +panting breath declared his haste, whilst his countenance was eloquent +of ill. +</P> + +<P> +'I come from the Anicianum,' Decius whispered, 'and bring terrible +news. Petronilla lies dying of the pest.' +</P> + +<P> +Dazed as if under a violent blow, Basil stretched out his hand. It +touched the wall of the little temple of Janus, in the shadow of which +they were standing. +</P> + +<P> +'The pest?' he echoed faintly. +</P> + +<P> +'She was seized in the night. Some one in the house—some woman, they +tell me, whom she brought with her a few days ago, I know not +whence—is just dead. I have sped hither in search of any one with whom +I could speak of it; God be thanked that I have met you! I went to +fetch away books, as you know.' +</P> + +<P> +'I must go there,' said Basil, gazing about him to find his slaves. 'I +must go straightway.' +</P> + +<P> +'Why? The danger is great.' +</P> + +<P> +'It may be'—this was spoken into Decius' ear—'that Veranilda is +imprisoned there. I have proof now, awful proof, that Petronilla lied +to me. I must enter, and seek.' +</P> + +<P> +Hard by were litters for public hire. Bidding his slaves follow, Basil +had himself carried, fast as bearers could run, towards the Anicianum. +Not even fear of the pestilence could withhold him. His curse upon +Petronilla had been heard; the Almighty God had smitten her; would not +the same Power protect him? He prayed mentally, beseeching the +intercession of the Virgin, of the saints. He made a vow that, did he +recover Veranilda, he would not rest until he had won her conversion to +the Catholic faith. +</P> + +<P> +Without the Anicianum, nothing indicated disturbance, but as soon as he +had knocked at the door it was thrown wide open, and he saw, gathered +in the vestibule, a crowd of dismayed servants. Two or three of them, +whom he knew well, hurried forward, eager to speak. He learnt that +physicians were with the sick lady, and that the presbyter of St. +Cecilia, for whom she had sent in the early morning, remained by her +side. No member of the family (save Decius) had yet come, though +messages had been despatched to several. Unopposed, Basil entered the +atrium, and there spoke with Petronilla's confidential freedman. +</P> + +<P> +'Leo, your mistress is dying. Speak the truth to me, and you shall be +rewarded; refuse to answer, or lie to me, and I swear by the Cross that +you shall suffer. Who was the woman that died here yesterday?' +</P> + +<P> +The freedman answered without hesitation, telling the same story Basil +had already heard from Petronilla. +</P> + +<P> +'Good. She has been buried?' +</P> + +<P> +'She was carried out before dawn.' +</P> + +<P> +'Tell me now, upon your salvation, is any one kept prisoner here?' +</P> + +<P> +Leo, an elderly man, his eyes red with tears and his hands tremulous, +gazed meaningly at the questioner. +</P> + +<P> +'No one; no one,' he answered under his breath. 'I swear it to you, O +lord Basil.' +</P> + +<P> +'Come with me through the house.' +</P> + +<P> +'But Leo, moving nearer, begged that he might be heard and believed. He +understood the meaning of these inquiries, for he had been with his +mistress at Surrentum. They whom Basil sought were not here; all search +would be useless; in proof of this Leo offered the evidence of his +wife, who could reveal something of moment which she had learnt only a +few hours ago. The woman was called, and Basil spoke apart with her; he +learnt that Petronilla, as soon as her pains began, sent a messenger to +the deacon Leander, entreating him to come; but Leander had only +yesterday set out on a journey, and would not be back for a week or +more. Hearing this, the stricken lady fell into an anguish of mind +worse even than that of the body; she uttered words signifying +repentance for some ill-doing, and, after a while, said to those who +were beside her—a physician and the speaker—that, if she died, they +were to make known to Bessas that the deacon Leander, he and he alone, +could tell all. Having said this, Petronilla became for a time calmer; +but her sufferings increased, and suddenly she bade summon the +presbyter of St. Cecilia's church. With him she spoke alone, and for a +long time. Since, she had uttered no word touching worldly matters; the +woman believed that she was now unconscious. +</P> + +<P> +'And you swear to me,' said Basil, who quivered as he listened, 'that +this is the truth and all you know?' +</P> + +<P> +Leo's wife swore by everything sacred on earth, and by all the powers +of heaven, that she had falsified nothing, concealed nothing. Thereupon +Basil turned to go away. In the vestibule, the slaves knelt weeping +before him, some with entreaties to be permitted to leave this stricken +house, some imploring advice against the plague; men and women alike, +all were beside themselves with terror. In this moment there came a +knocking at the entrance; the porter ran to open, and admitted Gordian. +Basil and he, who had not met since the day of the family gathering, +spoke together in the portico. He had come, said Gordian, in the fear +that Petronilla had been forsaken by all her household, as sometimes +happened to those infected. Had it been so, he would have held it a +duty to approach her with what solace he could. As it was, physician +and priest and servants being here, he durst not risk harm to his own +family; but he would hold himself in readiness, if grave occasion +summoned him. So Gordian remounted his horse, and rode back home. +</P> + +<P> +Basil lingered. He no longer entertained the suspicion that Veranilda +might be here, but he thought that, could he speak with Petronilla +herself, penitence might prompt her to tell him where the captive lay +hidden. It surprised him not at all to hear Leander's name as that of +her confidant in the matter, though hitherto his thought had not turned +in that direction. Leander signified the Church, and what hope was +there that he could gain his end against such an opponent?—more +formidable than Bessas, more powerful, perhaps, than Justinian. Were +Veranilda imprisoned in some monastery, he might abandon hope of +beholding her again on this side of the grave. +</P> + +<P> +Yet it was something to know that she had not passed into the hands of +the Greeks; that she was not journeying to the Byzantine court, there +to be wedded against her will. Cheered by this, he felt an impulse of +daring; he would see Petronilla. +</P> + +<P> +'Leo! Lead me to the chamber.' +</P> + +<P> +The freedman besought him not to be so rash, but Basil was possessed +with furious resolve. He drove the servant before him, through the +atrium, into a long corridor. Suddenly the silence was broken by a +shriek of agony, so terrible that Basil felt his blood chilled to the +very heart. This cry came again, echoing fearfully through the halls +and galleries of this palace of marble. The servants had fled; Basil +dropped to his knees, crossed himself, prayed, the sweat standing upon +his forehead. A footstep approached him; he rose, and saw the physician +who had been with Maximus at Surrentum. +</P> + +<P> +'Does she still live?' he asked. +</P> + +<P> +'If life it can be called. What do you here, lord Basil?' +</P> + +<P> +'Can she hear and speak?' +</P> + +<P> +'I understand you,' replied the physician. 'But it is useless. She has +confessed to the priest, and will utter no word more. Look to yourself; +the air you breathe is deadly.' +</P> + +<P> +And Basil, weak as a child, suffered himself to be led away. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap13"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE SOUL OF ROME +</H3> + +<P> +The library in Basil's house was a spacious, graceful room, offering at +this day very much the same aspect as in the time of that ancestral +Anician, who, when Aurelian ruled, first laid rolls and codices upon +its shelves. Against the walls stood closed presses of wood, with +bronze panelling, on which were seen in relief the portraits of poets +and historians; from the key of each hung a strip of parchment, with a +catalogue of the works within. Between the presses, on pedestals of +dark green serpentine, ranged busts of the Greek philosophers: Zeno +with his brows knitted, Epicurus bland, Aratus gazing upward, +Heraclitus in tears, Democritus laughing. These were attributed to +ancient artists, and by all who still cared for such things were much +admired. In the middle stood a dancing faun in blood red marble, also +esteemed a precious work of art. Light entered by an arched window, +once glazed, now only barred with ornamental iron, too high in the wall +to allow of any view; below this, serving as table, was an old marble +sarcophagus carved with the Calydonian hunt. +</P> + +<P> +Here, one day of spring, Decius sat over his studies. Long ago he had +transferred hither all the books from the great house across the Tiber, +and had made his home on the Caelian. As he read or wrote a hard cough +frequently interrupted him. During the past half year his health had +grown worse, and he talked at times of returning to the Surrentine +villa, if perchance that sweeter air might soothe him, but in the +present state of things—Totila had just laid siege to Neapolis—the +removal did not seem feasible. Moreover, Decius loved Rome, and thought +painfully of dying elsewhere than within her walls. +</P> + +<P> +There was a footfall at the door, and Basil entered. He was carelessly +clad, walked with head bent, and had the look of one who spends his +life in wearisome idleness. Without speaking, however, he threw himself +upon a couch and lay staring with vacant eye at the bronze panels of +the vaulted ceiling. For some minutes silence continued; then Decius, a +roll in his hand, stepped to his kinsman's side and indicated with his +finger a passage of the manuscript. What Basil read might be rendered +thus: +</P> + +<P> +'I am hateful to myself. For though born to do something worthy of a +man, I am now not only incapable of action, but even of thought.' +</P> + +<P> +'Who says that?' he asked, too indolent to glance at the beginning of +the roll. +</P> + +<P> +'A certain Marcus Tullius, in one of his letters,' replied the other, +smiling, and returned to his own couch. +</P> + +<P> +Basil moved uneasily, sighed, and at length spoke in a serious tone. +</P> + +<P> +'I understand you, best Decius. You are right. Many a time I have used +to myself almost those very words. When I was young—how old I feel!—I +looked forward to a life full of achievements. I felt capable of great +things. But in our time, what can we do, we who are born Romans, yet +have never learnt to lead an army or to govern a state?' +</P> + +<P> +He let his arm fall despondently, and sank again into brooding silence. +</P> + +<P> +At root, Basil's was a healthy and vigorous nature. Sound of body, he +needed to put forth his physical energies, yet had never found more +scope for them than in the exercise of the gymnasium, or the fatigue of +travel; mentally well-balanced, he would have made an excellent +administrator, such as his line had furnished in profusion, but that +career was no longer open. Of Marcian's ascetic gloom he knew nothing: +not all the misery he had undergone in these last six months could so +warp his wholesome instincts. Owning himself, in the phrases he had +repeated from childhood, a miserable sinner, a vile clot of animated +dust, at heart he felt himself one with all the beautiful and joyous +things that the sun illumined. With pleasure and sympathy he looked +upon an ancient statue of god or hero; only a sense of duty turned his +eyes upon the images of Christian art. +</P> + +<P> +And this natural tendency was encouraged by his education, which, like +that of all well-born Romans, even in the sixth century after Christ, +had savoured much more of paganism than of Christianity. Like his +ancestors, before the age of Constantine, he had been taught grammar +and rhetoric; grammar which was supposed to include all sciences, +meaning practically a comment on a few classical texts, and rhetoric +presumed a preparation for the life of the Forum, having become an art +of declamation which had no reference to realities. Attempts had been +made—the last, only a few years ago, by Cassiodorus—to establish +Christian schools in Rome, but without success, so profoundly were the +ancient intellectual habits rooted in this degenerate people. The long +resistance to the new religion was at an end, but Romans, even while +confessing that the gods were demons, could not cast off their +affection for the mythology and history of their glorious time. Thus +Basil had spent his schooldays mostly in the practice of sophistic +argument, and the delivery of harangues on traditional subjects. Other +youths had shown greater aptitude for this kind of eloquence; he did +not often carry off a prize; but among his proud recollections was a +success he had achieved in the form of a rebuke to an impious +voluptuary who set up a statue of Diana in the room which beheld his +debauches. Here was the nemesis of a system of education which had +aimed solely at the practical, the useful; having always laboured to +produce the man perfectly equipped for public affairs, and nothing else +whatever. Rome found herself tottering with senile steps in the same +path when the Empire and the ancient world lay in ruins about her. +Basil was not studious. Long ago he had forgotten his 'grammatical' +learning—except, of course, a few important matters known to all +educated men, such as the fact that the alphabet was invented by +Mercury, who designed the letters from figures made in their flight by +the cranes of Strymon. Though so ardent a lover, he had composed no +lyric or elegy in Veranilda's honour; his last poetical effort was made +in his sixteenth year, when, to his own joy, and to the admiration of +his friends, he wrote a distich, the verses of which read the same +whether you began from the left hand or the right. Nowadays if he ever +opened a book it was some historian of antiquity. Livy, by choice, who +reminded him of his country's greatness, and reawakened in him the +desire to live a not inglorious life. +</P> + +<P> +Of his latter boyhood part had been spent at Ravenna, where his father +Probus, a friend as well as kinsman of the wise minister Cassiodorus, +now and then made a long sojourn; and he had thus become accustomed to +the society of the more cultivated Goths, especially of those who were +the intimates of the learned Queen Amalasuntha. Here, too, he learned a +certain liberality in religious matters; for it was Cassiodorus who, in +one of the rescripts given from the Gothic court, wrote those memorable +words: 'Religious faith we have no power to impose, seeing that no man +can be made to believe against his will.' Upon the murder of +Amalasuntha, when the base Theodahad ruled alone, and ruin lay before +the Gothic monarchy, Probus, despairing of Italy, following the example +of numerous Roman nobles, migrated to Byzantium. His wife being dead, +and his daughter having entered a convent, he was accompanied only by +Basil, then eighteen years of age. A new world thus opened before +Basil's mind; its brilliancy at first dazzled and delighted him, but +very soon he perceived the difference between a noble's life at Rome or +Ravenna under the mild rule of the Goths, and that led by so-called +Romans in the fear of Justinian and of Theodora. His father, +disappointed in hopes of preferment which had been held out to him, +gladly accepted a mission which would take him back to Italy: he was +one of the envoys sent to Belisarius during the siege of Ravenna, to +urge the conclusion of the Gothic war and command the return of the +Patricius as soon as might be for service against the Persians; and +with him came Basil. On the journey Probus fell ill; he was able to +cross the Adriatic, but no sooner touched Italian Soil than he breathed +his last. +</P> + +<P> +Then it was that Basil, representing his father in the Imperial +mission, came face to face with Belisarius, and conceived a boundless +enthusiasm for the great commander, whose personal qualities—the large +courtesy, the ready kindliness, the frequent laugh—made intimate +appeal to one of his disposition. He stayed in the camp before Ravenna +until the city surrendered, and no one listened with more ardent +approval to the suggestion which began as a whisper between Italians +and Goths that Belisarius should accept the purple of the Western +Empire. This, to be sure, would have been treachery, but treachery +against Justinian seemed a small thing to Basil, and a thing of no +moment at all when one thought of Rome as once more an Imperial city, +and Italy with such a ruler as the laurelled Patricius. Treachery the +general did commit, but not against Byzantium. Having made pretence of +accepting the crown which the Goths offered him, he entered into +Ravenna, took possession in Justinian's name, and presently sailed for +the East, carrying with him the King Vitiges and his wife Matasuntha, +grand-daughter of Theodoric. It was a bitter disappointment to Basil, +who had imagined for himself a brilliant career under the auspices of +the new Roman Emperor, and who now saw himself merely a conquered +Italian, set under the authority of Byzantine governors. He had no +temptation to remain in the North, for Cassiodorus was no longer here, +having withdrawn a twelvemonth ago to his own country by the Ionian +Sea, and there entered the monastery founded by himself; at Ravenna +ruled the logothete Alexandros, soon to win a surname from his +cleverness in coin-clipping. So Basil journeyed to Rome, where his +kinsfolk met him with news of deaths and miseries. The city was but +raising her head after the long agony of the Gothic siege. He entered +his silent home on the Caelian, and began a life of dispirited idleness. +</P> + +<P> +Vast was the change produced in the Roman's daily existence by the +destruction of the aqueducts. The Thermae being henceforth unsupplied +with water, those magnificent resorts of every class of citizen lost +their attraction, and soon ceased to be frequented; for all the Roman's +exercises and amusements were associated with the practice of luxurious +bathing, and without that refreshment the gymnasium, the tennis-court, +the lounge, no longer charmed as before. Rome became dependent upon +wells and the Tiber, wretched resource compared with the never-failing +and abundant streams which once poured through every region of the city +and threw up fountains in all but every street. Belisarius, as soon as +the Goths retreated, ordered the repairing of an aqueduct, that which +served the transtiberine district, and was indispensable to the working +of the Janiculan mills, where corn was ground; but, after his +departure, there was neither enough energy nor sufficient sense of +security in Rome for the restoration of even one of the greater +conduits. Nobles and populace alike lived without the bath, grew +accustomed to more or less uncleanliness, and in a certain quarter +suffered worse than inconvenience from the lack of good water. +</P> + +<P> +Formerly a young Roman of Basil's rank, occupied or not by any serious +pursuit, would have spent several hours of the day at one or other of +the Thermae still in use; if inclined to display, he would have gone +thither with a train of domestic attendants, and probably of parasites; +were the season hot, here he found coolness; were it cold, here he +warmed himself. Society never failed; opportunity for clandestine +meetings could always be found; all the business and the pleasure of a +day were regulated with reference to this immemorial habit. Now, to +enter the Thermae was to hear one's footsteps resound in a marble +wilderness; to have statues for companions and a sense of ruin for +one's solace. Basil, who thought more than the average Roman about +these changes, and who could not often amuse himself with such +spectacles as the theatres or the circus offered, grew something of a +solitary in his habits, and was supposed by those who did not know him +intimately, to pass most of his time in religious meditation, the +preface, perhaps, to retirement from the world. Indolence bringing its +wonted temptations, he fell into acquaintance with Heliodora, a +Neapolitan Greek of uncertain origin, whose husband that year held the +office of City Prefect. Acquaintance with Heliodora was, in his case, +sure to be a dangerous thing, and might well prove fatal, for many and +fierce were the jealousies excited by that brilliant lady, whose +husband alone regarded with equanimity her amorous adventures. Happily, +Basil did not take the matter very much to heart; he scarce pretended +to himself that he cared whether Heliodora was his for a day only or +for a month; and he had already turned his thoughts to the sweetness of +Aemiliana, that young sister of Gordian, whom, if he chose, he might +make his wife. +</P> + +<P> +Now again had sluggishness taken possession of him, and with it came +those promptings of the flesh which, but a few months ago, he easily +subdued, but which the lapse of time had once more made perilous. To +any who should have ventured to taunt him with forgetfulness of +Veranilda, he would have fiercely given the lie; and with reason, for +Veranilda's image was as vivid to him as on the day when he lost her, +and she alone of women had the power to excite his deepest and +tenderest emotions. Nevertheless, he had more than once of late visited +Heliodora, and though these visits were in appearance only such as he +might have paid to any lady of his acquaintance, Basil knew very well +whither they tended. As yet Heliodora affected a total forgetfulness of +the past; she talked of Veranilda, and confessed that her efforts to +make any discovery regarding the captive were still fruitless, though +she by no means gave up hope; therewithal, she treated Basil only half +seriously, with good-naturedly mocking smiles, as a mere boy, a disdain +to her mature womanhood. Of this was he thinking as he tossed on the +couch in the library; he had thought of it too much since leaving +Heliodora yesterday afternoon. It began to nettle him that his grief +should be for her merely an amusement. Never having seen the Gothic +maiden, whose beauty outshone hers as sunrise outdoes the lighting of a +candle, this wanton Greek was capable of despising him in good earnest, +and Basil had never been of those who sit easy under scorn. He felt +something chafe and grow hot within him, and recalled the days when he, +and not Heliodora, had indulged contempt—to his mind a much more +natural posture of affairs, The animal that is in every man had begun +to stir; it urged him to master and crush and tame this woman, whom, +indeed, he held rather in hate than in any semblance of love. Her +beauty, her sensuality, had power over him still; he resented such +danger of subjection, and encouraged himself in a barbarism of mood, +which permitted him to think that even in yielding he might find the +way of his revenge. +</P> + +<P> +There had been a long silence since his reply to the hint offered by +Decius. The student spoke again. +</P> + +<P> +'Basil, leave Rome.' +</P> + +<P> +'It is forbidden,' answered the other dully, his face averted. +</P> + +<P> +'Many things are forbidden which none the less are done. Did you learn +that Veranilda awaited you at Asculum, how long would it be before you +set forth?' +</P> + +<P> +'Not one hour, good Decius.' +</P> + +<P> +'Even so. You would pass the gates disguised as a peasant or as a +woman—no matter how. Will you do less to save all that makes life dear +to an honourable man? Be gone, be gone, I entreat you.' +</P> + +<P> +'Whither?' +</P> + +<P> +'To Picenum, which is not yet subject to the Goths. There gather your +capable men and arm them, and send to the King Totila, offering to +serve him where he will, and how he will. You know,' pursued Decius +earnestly, 'that I speak this something against my conscience, but, +alas! we can only choose between evils, and I think Totila is less of a +tyrant than Justinian. You will not go to Constantinople, nor would I +bid you, for there, assuredly, is nothing to be done worthy of a man; +but you must act, or you perish. For me, a weakling and a dreamer, +there is solace in the <I>vita umbratilis</I>; to you, it is naught. Arise, +then, O Basil, ere it be too late.' +</P> + +<P> +The listener rose from his recumbent attitude; he was stirred by this +unwonted vigour in Decius, but not yet did resolve appear on his +countenance. +</P> + +<P> +'Did I but know,' he murmured, 'that Veranilda is not in Rome!' +</P> + +<P> +Innumerable times had he said it; the thought alone held him inert. +Impossible to discover, spite of all his efforts, whether Veranilda had +been delivered to the Greeks, or still lay captive in some place known +to the deacon Leander. From the behaviour of Bessas nothing could be +certainly deduced: it was now a long time since he had sent for Basil, +and Marcian, though believing that the commander's search was still +futile, had no more certainty than his friend. Soon after Petronilla's +death, the Anician mansion had been thoroughly pillaged and everything +of value removed to the Palatine. Bessas condescended to justify this +proceeding: having learnt, he said, that the question of Aurelia's +orthodoxy lay in doubt, some declaring that she was a heretic, some +that she had returned to orthodoxy before her father's death, he took +charge of the property which might be hers until she appeared to claim +it, when, having the testament of Maximus in his hand, he would see +that justice was done. With Leander, Basil had succeeded in obtaining +an interview, which was altogether fruitless. The deacon would answer +no question, and contented himself with warning his visitor of the +dangers incurred by one who openly sought to defeat the will of the +Emperor. +</P> + +<P> +'Is it farewell?' asked Decius, stepping towards his kinsman, who +seemed about to leave the room. +</P> + +<P> +'I will think.' +</P> + +<P> +'Go speak with Gordian. He says that he can obtain you permission to +leave the city.' +</P> + +<P> +'I doubt it,' replied Basil. 'But I will see him—ere long.' +</P> + +<P> +Decius went forth for his morning's exercise, which sometimes took the +form of a gentle game of ball, but was generally a ramble on foot and +unaccompanied, for he never felt at ease when an attendant followed +him. His habits were solitary; ever absorbed in thought, or lost in +dreams, he avoided the ways where he would be likely to encounter an +acquaintance, and strayed among ruins in deserted gardens, such as were +easily found in the remoter parts of the Caelian. To-day, tempted on by +the delicious air, and the bright but not ardent sunshine, he wandered +by such unfrequented paths till a sound of voices broke upon his +meditation, and he found himself in view of the Lateran. Numbers of +poor people were streaming away from the open space by the Pope's +palace, loud in angry talk, its purpose intelligible enough to any one +who caught a few words. Decius heard maledictions upon the Holy Father, +mingled with curses no less hearty upon the Greeks who held Rome. +</P> + +<P> +'It was not thus,' cried an old man, 'in the time of King Theodoric, +heretic though he might be. We had our bread and our hog's flesh, prime +quality both, and plenty for all.' +</P> + +<P> +'Ay,' cried a woman, 'and our oil too. Since these Greek dogs came, not +a drop of oil has there been in my cruse. Heretics, forsooth! What +better is the Holy Father who lets Christians die of hunger while he +eats and drinks his fill?' +</P> + +<P> +'Evil go with thee, O Vigilius! The pest seize thee, O Vigilius! May'st +thou perish eternally, O Vigilius!' shrilled and shouted all manner of +voices, while fists were shaken towards the pontifical abode. +</P> + +<P> +Decius hastened away. The sight of suffering was painful to him, and +the cries of the vulgar offended his ear; he felt indignant that these +people should not be fed, as Rome for so many ages had fed her +multitude, but above all, he dreaded uproar, confusion, violence. His +hurried pace did not relax until he was lost again amid a wilderness of +ruins, where browsing goats and darting lizards were the only life. +</P> + +<P> +Later in the day, when he sat alone in the peristyle, a visitor was +introduced, whom he rose to welcome cordially and respectfully. This +was a man of some threescore years, vigorous in frame, with dry, +wrinkled visage and a thin, grey beard that fell to his girdle. As he +approached, Decius saw that he was bleeding from a wound on the head +and that his cloak was torn. +</P> + +<P> +'What means this, dear master?' he exclaimed. 'What has befallen you?' +</P> + +<P> +'Nothing worth your notice, gentle Decius,' the philosopher replied, +calmly and gravely. 'Let us rather examine this rare treatise of +Plotinus, which by good fortune I yesterday discovered among rubbish +thrown aside.' +</P> + +<P> +'Nay,' insisted Decius, 'but your wound must be washed and dressed; it +may else prove dangerous. I fear this was no accident?' +</P> + +<P> +'If you must know,' answered the other with good-natured peevishness, +'I am accused of magic. The honest folk who are my neighbours, +prompted, I think it likely, by a certain senator who takes it ill that +his son is my disciple, have shown me of late more attention than I +care for, and to-day as I came forth, they pursued me with cries of +"Sorcerer!" and the like, whereupon followed sticks and stones, and +other such popular arguments. It is no matter. Plotinus begins—' +</P> + +<P> +Simplicius was one of the last philosophers who taught in Athens, one +of the seven who were driven forth when Justinian, in his zeal for +Christianity, closed the schools. Guided by a rumour that supreme +wisdom was to be found in Persia, the sages journeyed to that kingdom, +where disappointment awaited them. After long wanderings and many +hardships, Simplicius came to Rome, and now had sojourned here for a +year or two, teaching such few as in these days gave any thought to +philosophy. Poor, and perhaps unduly proud, he preferred his own very +humble lodging to the hospitality which more than one friend had +offered him; and his open disregard for religious practices, together +with singularities of life and demeanour, sufficiently explained the +trouble that had come upon him. Charges of sorcery were not uncommon in +Rome at this time. Some few years ago a commission of senators had sat +in judgment upon two nobles accused of magic, a leading article of +proof against one of them being that he had a horse which, when +stroked, gave off sparks of fire. On this account Decius was much +troubled by the philosopher's story. When the wound had been attended +to, he besought Simplicius not to go forth again to-day, and with some +difficulty prevailed. +</P> + +<P> +'Why should it perturb you, O most excellent Decius,' said the sage, +'that a lover of wisdom is an offence to the untaught and the foolish? +Was it not ever thus? If philosophy may no longer find peace at Athens, +is it likely that she will be suffered to dwell at ease in Rome?' +</P> + +<P> +'Alas, no!' admitted Decius. 'But why, dear master, should you invite +the attacks of the ignorant?' +</P> + +<P> +'I do no such thing. I live and act as seems good to me, that is all. +Should no one have the courage to do that, what hope would there be, O +Decius, for that most glorious liberty, the liberty of the mind?' +</P> + +<P> +The listener bent his head abashed. Then Simplicius began to read from +the manuscript, and Decius, who knew Greek fairly well—he had lately +completed certain translations from Plato, left unfinished by +Boethius—gave reverent attention. At a certain point the philosopher +paused to comment, for the subject was difficult—nothing less than the +nature of God. In God, according to the system here expounded, there +are three principles or hypostases, united but unequal—the One, the +Intelligence, the Soul; which correspond, respectively, to the God of +Plato, the God of Aristotle, the God of Zeno. Usually curt and rather +dry in his utterances, Simplicius rose to a fervid eloquence as he +expounded this mysticism of Alexandria. Not that he accepted it as the +final truth, it was merely a step, though an important one, towards +that entire and absolute knowledge of which he believed that a glimpse +had been vouchsafed to him, even to him, in his more sublime hours. As +for Decius, the utmost effort never enabled him to attain familiarity +with these profound speculations: he was soon lost, and found his brain +whirling with words that had little or no significance. At home in +literature, in philosophy he did but strive and falter and lose +himself. When at length there came a silence, he sighed deeply, his +hand propping his forehead. +</P> + +<P> +'Master, how few men can ever know God!' +</P> + +<P> +'Few, few,' admitted the philosopher, his gaze upwards. +</P> + +<P> +'I think I should be content,' said Decius, 'to love and praise Him. +Yet that meseems is no less hard.' +</P> + +<P> +'No less,' was the reply. 'For, without knowledge, love and praise are +vain.' +</P> + +<P> +But Decius' thought had another meaning. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap14"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIV +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +SILVIA'S DREAM +</H3> + +<P> +It was the Paschal season, and Basil, careless at most times of +religious observances, did not neglect this supreme solemnity of his +faith. On Passion Day he fasted and received the Eucharist, Decius +doing the like, though with a half-smiling dreaminess which contrasted +with the other's troubled devotion. Since the death of Petronilla, +Basil had known moments of awe-stricken wonder or of gloomy fear such +as never before had visited him; for he entertained no doubt that his +imprecation had brought upon Petronilla her dreadful doom, and this was +a thought which had power to break his rest. Neither to Marcian nor to +Decius did he speak of it in plain terms, merely hinting his belief +that the cruel and treacherous woman had provoked divine anger. +</P> + +<P> +But the inclination to piety which resulted from such brooding was in +some measure counteracted by his hostile feeling towards all the +Church. Petronilla might have conceived the thought of imprisoning +Aurelia and Veranilda, but only with the aid of an influential cleric +such as Leander could she have carried it out so successfully. The +Church it was that held Veranilda captive; unless, indeed, it had +handed her over to the Greeks. This conviction made his heart burn with +wrath, which he could scarce subdue even whilst worshipping the +crucified Christ. His victim's heresy would of course be Leander's +excuse for what he had done; the daughter of Maximus and the Gothic +maiden were held in restraint for their souls' good. Not long after +Petronilla's death Basil had been driven by his distress of mind to +visit Gordian and Silvia, and to speak with them of this suspicion. He +saw that, for all their human kindness, they were disposed rather, to +approve than condemn the deacon's supposed action, and he had gone +forth from them in scarce concealed bitterness. +</P> + +<P> +Now, in the festival days of Easter, his thoughts again turned to that +house on the Clivus Scauri, so near to his own dwelling, yet so remote +from the world of turbid passions in which his lot was cast. The +household of Gordian seemed untouched by common cares; though +thoroughly human its domestic life, it had something of the calm, the +silence, of a monastery. None entered save those whom husband and wife +held in affection or in respect; idle gaiety was unknown beneath their +roof, and worldly ambition had no part in their counsels. Because of +the reverence these things inspired in him, and because of his longing +to speak with a pure-hearted woman who held him in kindness, Basil +again presented himself at his kinsman's door. He was led directly to +an inner room, where sat Silvia. +</P> + +<P> +The severe fasts of Lent had left their mark upon the young face, yet +it was fresh and smooth in its delicate pallor, and almost maidenly in +its gentle smile. Silvia had blue eyes, and hair of the chestnut hue; a +simple, white fillet lay above her forehead; her robe was of pale +russet, adorned with the usual purple stripes and edged with +embroidery; on each hand she wore but one ring. When the visitor +entered, she was nursing her child, a boy of four years old, named +Gregorius, but at once she put him to sit upon a little stool beside +her. +</P> + +<P> +'Welcome, dear cousin Basil,' was her greeting. 'We hoped this time of +gladness would turn your thoughts to us. My husband has been called +forth; but you will await his return?' +</P> + +<P> +'It was you, lady cousin, whom I wished to see,' Basil replied. As he +spoke, he touched the curly head of the boy, who looked up at him with +large, grave eyes. 'Why is he so pale?' +</P> + +<P> +'He has had a sickness,' answered the mother, in a low, tender voice. +'Not many days ago, one might have feared he would be taken from us. +Our prayers prevailed, thanks to the intercession of the holy Cosma and +Damian, and of the blessed Theodore. When he seemed to be dying, I bore +him to the church in the Velabrum, and laid him before the altar; and +scarcely had I finished my prayer, when a light seemed to shine upon +his face, and he knew me again, and smiled at me.' +</P> + +<P> +Listening, the child took his mother's hand, and pressed it against his +wan little cheek. Then Silvia rang a bell that was beside her, and a +woman came to take the child away, he, as he walked in silence from the +room, looking back and smiling wistfully. +</P> + +<P> +'I know not,' pursued Silvia, when they were alone, 'how we dare to +pray for any young life in times so dark as ours. But that we are +selfish in our human love, we should rather thank the Omnipotent when +it pleases Him to call one of these little ones, whom Christ blessed, +from a world against which His wrath is so manifestly kindled. And +yet,' she added, 'it must be right that we should entreat for a life in +danger; who can know to what it may be destined?—what service it may +render to God and man? One night when I watched by Gregorius, weariness +overcame me, and in a short slumber I dreamt. That dream I shall never +forget. It kept me in heart and hope through the worst.' +</P> + +<P> +'May I hear your dream?' asked Basil. +</P> + +<P> +'Nay,' was the gentle reply, with a smile and a shake of the head, 'to +you it would seem but foolishness. Let us speak of other things, and +first of yourself. You, too, are pale, good cousin. What have you to +tell me? What has come to pass since I saw you?' +</P> + +<P> +With difficulty Basil found words to utter the thought which had led +him hither. He came to it by a roundabout way, and Silvia presently +understood: he was indirectly begging her to use her influence with +eminent churchmen at Rome, to discover whether Veranilda was yet +detained in Italy, or had been sent to the East. At their previous +interview he had kept up the pretence of being chiefly interested in +the fate of Aurelia, barely mentioning the Gothic maiden; but that was +in the presence of Gordian. Now he spoke not of Aurelia at all, and so +dwelt on Veranilda's name that his implied confession could not be +misunderstood. And Silvia listened with head bent, interested, secretly +moved, at heart troubled. +</P> + +<P> +'What you ask,' she began, after a short silence, 'is not easy. If I +make inquiries of such of the clergy as I know, I must needs tell them +why I am doing so; and would they, in that case, think it well to +answer me?' +</P> + +<P> +'You know the deacon Leander,' urged Basil. 'Can you not plead for me +with him, O Silvia?' +</P> + +<P> +'Plead for you? Remember that it is impossible for me to assume that +the holy deacon knows anything of this matter. And, were that +difficulty removed, dare I plead for your union with one who is not of +our faith—one, moreover, whom you cannot wed without putting yourself +in grave peril?' +</P> + +<P> +'Listen, gentle cousin!' exclaimed Basil eagerly. 'It may be that +Veranilda has already renounced the heresy of Anus. If not, she would +assuredly do so at my persuasion. So, that objection you may dismiss. +As for the danger to which our marriage might expose us, our love would +dare that—ay, and things much worse.' +</P> + +<P> +'You speak so confidently of the Gothic maiden?' said Silvia, with a +look half-timid, half-amused. 'Was there, then, a veritable plighting +of troth between you?' +</P> + +<P> +'There was, dear cousin. From you I will conceal nothing, for you are +good, you are compassionate.' +</P> + +<P> +And whilst he poured forth the story of his love, not without tears, +Silvia gave sympathetic attention. The lady Petronilla had never been +one of her intimates, nor was the deacon Leander among those +ecclesiastics whom she most reverenced. When Basil had told all, her +reply was ready. All she could do would be to endeavour to learn +whether Veranilda remained in the charge of Petronilla's confederate, +or had been given up to the Greeks. From conversation she had heard, +Silvia inclined to this belief, that Bessas and his subordinates were +still vainly seeking. +</P> + +<P> +'I can make you no promise, good Basil; but I will take counsel with my +husband (whom you can trust as you trust me), and see if indeed +anything may be learnt.' +</P> + +<P> +The lover kissed her hands in ardent gratitude. Whilst they were still +talking confidentially, another visitor was announced, the deacon +Pelagius. Basil begged permission to withdraw before the cleric +entered; he was in no mood for conversation with deacons; and Silvia +pointed smilingly to the door by which he could retreat. +</P> + +<P> +The hour was still early. Basil passed a day of hopefulness, and his +mood became exultant when, about sunset, a letter was brought to him +from Silvia. +</P> + +<P> +'To-morrow morning, at the third hour,' she wrote, 'certain of our +kinsfolk and friends will assemble in this house to hear the reverend +man Arator read his poem on the Acts of the Holy Apostles. This is an +honour done to us, for only two or three persons have as yet heard +portions of the poem, which will soon be read publicly in the church of +the Holy Petrus ad Vincula. Let me welcome your Amiability among my +guests. After the reading, I shall beg you to be acquainted with one +who may perchance serve you.' +</P> + +<P> +Scarcely had Basil read this, when another missive was put into his +hands. It was from Heliodora, and written, as usual, in Greek +characters. +</P> + +<P> +'To-morrow, after the ninth hour, you are bidden hither. Come if you +choose. If you do not, I shall have forgotten something I have learnt.' +</P> + +<P> +To this he paid little heed; it might have significance, it might have +none. If the morning sustained his hope, he would be able to resist the +temptation of the afternoon. So he cherished Silvia's letter, and flung +Heliodora's contemptuously aside. +</P> + +<P> +Reaching Gordian's house next morning a little before the appointed +hour, he found the members of the family and one or two guests +assembled in a circular room, with a dome pierced to admit light: +marble seats, covered with cushions, rose amphitheatre-wise on one half +of the circle, and opposite was a chair for the reader. In this hall +Sidonius Apollinaris had declaimed his panegyric on the Emperor Avitus; +here the noble Boethius had been heard, and, in earlier days, the poet +Claudian. Beside Silvia stood her husband's two sisters, Tarsilla and +Aemiliana, both of whom, it had begun to be rumoured, though still in +the flower of their youth, desired to enter the monastic life. At the +younger, who was beautiful, Basil glanced diffidently, remembering that +she might have been his wife; but Aemiliana knew nothing of the thought +her brother had entertained, and her eyes were calm as those of a +little child. When other guests appeared, Basil drew aside, for most of +the persons who entered were strangers to him. Ecclesiastics grew +numerous; among them might be distinguished a tall, meagre, bald-headed +man, the sub-deacon Arator, who held in his hand the manuscript from +which he was to read. Among the latest to arrive was a lady, stricken +in years and bowed with much grief, upon whom all eyes were +respectfully bent as Gordian conducted her to a place of honour. This +was Rusticiana, the daughter of Symmachus, the widow of Boethius. When +Basil looked at her, and thought of the anguish through which her life +had passed in that gloomy evening of the reign of Theodoric, he felt +himself for a moment at one with those who rejected and scorned the +Gothic dominion. A great unhappiness flooded his heart and mind; he +forgot what was passing about him, and only returned to himself when +there sounded the voice of the reader. +</P> + +<P> +Arator's poetic version of the Acts of the Apostles was written in +hexameters; whether good or ill, Basil felt unable to decide, and he +wished Decius had been here to whisper a critical comment. In any case +he would have found the reading wearisome; that monotonous, indistinct +voice soon irritated him, and at length made him drowsy. But admiration +frequently broke out from the audience, and at the end applause became +enthusiasm. Unspeakably glad that the ceremony was over, Basil mingled +with the moving crowd, and drew towards Silvia. At length their eyes +met; the lady thereupon spoke a word to a cleric who was standing by +her, and in the next moment summoned Basil with a movement of the head. +There was a brief formality, then Basil found himself led aside by the +deacon Pelagius, who spoke to him in a grave, kind voice very pleasant +to the ear, with the courtesy of a finished man of the world, and at +the same time with a firmness of note, a directness of purpose, which +did not fail to impress the listener. +</P> + +<P> +Aged about five-and-thirty, bearing upon his countenance the signature +of noble birth, Pelagius was at this moment the most accomplished +diplomat that the Church of Rome possessed. He had spent some years at +Byzantium, as papal emissary; had engaged the confidence of Justinian; +and, on his return, had brought an Imperial invitation to Vigilius, who +was requested to set forth for the East as soon as possible. Pope +Vigilius had the misfortune to differ on certain dogmatic questions +with that pious and acute theologian the Empress Theodora; being a man +of little energy or courage, he durst not defy Byzantium, as he gladly +would have done, nor yet knew how to deal subtly for his own ends with +the Eastern despots; he lingered his departure, and in the meantime +earned hatred at Rome because of his inability to feed the populace. It +was already decided that, during his absence, the Holy Father should be +represented by Pelagius, an arrangement very agreeable to that party in +the Church which upheld Imperial supremacy, but less so to those +ecclesiastics—a majority—who desired the independence of Rome in +religious matters, and the recognition of Peter's successor as +Patriarch of Christendom. In speaking to such a personage as this on +Basil's behalf, Silvia had not reflected that the friend of Justinian +was little likely to take the part of one who desired to frustrate an +Imperial command; she thought only of his great influence, and of the +fact that he looked with no favour on the deacon Leander, an +anti-imperialist. What was again unfortunate for Basil, Pelagius had +heard, before leaving Byzantium, of the Emperor's wish to discover +Veranilda, and had already made inquiries on this subject in Rome. He +was glad, then, to speak with this young noble, whose mind he found it +very easy to read, and whom, without the least harshness, he resolved +to deter from his pursuit of a Gothic bride. +</P> + +<P> +The colloquy was not long. Buoyed by his ardour, Basil interpreted the +first words of courteous preamble in the most hopeful sense. What +followed gave him pause; he saw a shadow of obstacle arise. Another +moment, and the obstacle had become very real; it grew to vastness, to +insuperability He stood, as it were, looking into the very eyes of the +Serene Majesty of Byzantium. Not that the speaker used a tone of +peremptory discouragement. Granting the indispensable condition that +Veranilda became a Catholic, it was not an impossible thing, said +Pelagius, that Basil should obtain her as a wife; <I>but</I> it could only +be by the grace of the Emperor. Veranilda had been summoned to +Byzantium. If Basil chose to follow her thither, and sue for her before +the throne, why, this was open to him, as to any other Roman of noble +birth. It would have been idle indeed to seek to learn from Pelagius +whether Veranilda had already left Italy, his tone was that of +omniscience, but his brow altogether forbade interrogation. Basil, in +despair, ventured one inquiry. If he desired to go to Byzantium, could +he obtain leave of departure from the Greek commandant, under whose ban +he lay? The reply was unhesitating; at any moment, permission could be +granted. Therewith the conversation came to an end, and Basil, hating +the face of man, stole away into solitude. +</P> + +<P> +Entering his own house, he learnt that Marcian was within. For a month +they had not seen each other, Marcian having been absent on missions of +the wonted double tenor; they met affectionately as ever, then Basil +flung himself down, like one crushed by sudden calamity. +</P> + +<P> +'What now?' asked his friend, with a rallying rather than a sympathetic +air. +</P> + +<P> +'No matter,' Basil replied. 'You are weary of my troubles, and I can no +longer talk of them.' +</P> + +<P> +'What troubles? The old story still? I thought you had found solace?' +</P> + +<P> +Basil looked an indignant wonder. His friend, sitting on the couch +beside him, continued in the same half-bantering tone: +</P> + +<P> +'When were you last at the house of a certain disconsolate widow, on +the Quirinal?' +</P> + +<P> +'What mean you?' cried the other, starting up, with sudden fury in his +eyes. 'Are you vowed with my enemies to drive me mad?' +</P> + +<P> +'Not I, dear Basil; but hear the truth. Only late last night I entered +the gates of Rome, and since I rose this morning three several persons +have spoken your name to me together with that of Heliodora.' +</P> + +<P> +'They are black and villainous liars! And you, Marcian, so ready to +believe them? Tell me their names, their names!' +</P> + +<P> +'Peace! One would think you mad indeed. You know the son of Opilio, +young Vivian?' +</P> + +<P> +'I know him!' answered Basil scornfully, 'as I know the lousy beggar +who sits before St. Clement's Church, or the African who tumbles in +Trajan's forum.' +</P> + +<P> +'Even so. This same spark of fashion stops me in the Vicus Longus. "You +are the friend of Basil," quoth he. "Give him this warning. If ever I +chance to find him near the portico of Heliodora, I will drive my +dagger into his heart," and on he struts, leaving me so amazed that I +forgot even to fetch the cub a box o' the ear. But I had not long to +wait for an explanation of his insolence. Whom should I next meet but +the solemn-visaged Opilio. "So your friend Basil," he began, "has +forgotten his Gothic love?" We talked, and I learnt from him that you +were the hot rival of Vivian for Heliodora's favour. Nay, I do but +repeat what you ought to hear. Can such gossip begin without cause? +Tell me now, how often have you been yonder since I left Rome?' +</P> + +<P> +Basil could scarce contain himself. He had visited Heliodora, yes, but +merely because he would neglect no chance of learning where Veranilda +was imprisoned; it was not impossible that through this woman such a +secret might be discovered. He the rival of that debauched boy! He the +lover of Heliodora! Had he sunk so low in the esteem of his best +friend? Why, then, it was time indeed to be gone: befall him what +might, he could not be unhappier in Constantinople than here in Rome. +</P> + +<P> +At these words, Marcian checked him with a surprised inquiry. What had +turned his thoughts to Constantinople? Basil related the events of +yesterday and of this morning. +</P> + +<P> +'What other counsel could you have expected from Pelagius?' said +Marcian, after listening attentively. 'But on one point I can reassure +you. Veranilda has not yet fallen into the hands of the Greeks.' +</P> + +<P> +'How do you know that?' exclaimed Basil eagerly. +</P> + +<P> +'Enough that I do know it. Whilst you have been idling here—forgive +me, good Basil—I have travelled far and conversed with many men. And I +have something else to tell you, which will perchance fall less +agreeably upon your ear. The fame of Veranilda promises to go forth +over all lands. King Totila himself has heard of her, and would fain +behold this ornament of his race.' +</P> + +<P> +'Totila!' +</P> + +<P> +'When Cumae was besieged by the Goths three months ago, Chorsoman—whom +you have not forgotten—made terms with Totila, and was allowed to keep +some portion of the plunder he had amassed. Thinking to do the king a +pleasure, he told him of Veranilda, of the commands regarding her which +had come from the East, and of her vanishing no one knew whither. And +of these things, O Basil, did Totila himself, with his royal mouth, +speak unto me not many days gone by.' +</P> + +<P> +'I see not how that concerns me,' said Basil wearily. +</P> + +<P> +'True, it may not. Yet, if I were wooing a wife, I had rather seek her +at the hands of Totila than at those of Justinian. To be sure, I did +not speak of you to the king; that would have been less than discreet. +But Totila will ere long be lord of all Italy, and who knows but the +deacon Leander, no friend of Constantinople, might see his interest and +his satisfaction in yielding Veranilda rather to the Goth than to the +Greek?' +</P> + +<P> +Basil started. Such a thought had never entered his mind, yet he saw +probability in the suggestion. +</P> + +<P> +'You assure me,' he said, 'that she has not yet been surrendered. I +find that hard to believe. Knowing in whose power she is, how comes it +that Bessas does not seize the insolent Leander, and force the truth +from him? Were I the commander, would I be baffled for an hour by that +sleek deacon?' +</P> + +<P> +'Were you commander, O best Basil,' replied Marcian, smiling, 'you +would see things in another light. Bessas does not lay hands upon the +deacon because it is much more to his profit to have the clergy of Rome +for his friends than for his enemies. Whether Veranilda be discovered +or not, he cares little; I began to suspect that when I saw that you +came off so easily from your dealings with him. 'Tis a long road to +Constantinople, and the Thracian well knows that he may perchance never +travel it again. His one care is to heap up treasure for to-day; the +morrow may look after itself. But let us return to the point from which +we started. Do you think in earnest of voyaging to the Bosporus?' +</P> + +<P> +'I should only choose a hazard so desperate were it the sole chance +that remained of recovering Veranilda.' +</P> + +<P> +'Wait, then, yet awhile. But take my counsel, and do not wait in Rome.' +</P> + +<P> +To this advice Basil gave willing ear. Since he had heard from Pelagius +that he was free to quit the city, he was all but resolved to be gone. +One thought alone detained him; he still imagined that Heliodora might +have means such as she professed of aiding him in his search, and that, +no matter how, he might subdue her will to his own. She, of course, +aimed only at enslaving him, and he knew her capable of any wickedness +in the pursuit of her ends; for this very reason was he tempted into +the conflict with her, a conflict in which his passions would have no +small part, and whether for or against him could not be foreseen. Once +more he would visit Heliodora; if fruitlessly, then for the last time. +</P> + +<P> +But of this decision he did not speak to Marcian. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap15"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XV +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +YOUNG ROME +</H3> + +<P> +At the hour named by Heliodora, Basil set forth alone and rode by +unfrequented ways towards the street on the Quirinal named Alta Semita. +A sense of shame forbade him to make known even to his slaves whither +he was going. He kept repeating to himself that it was for the last +time; and perhaps a nobler motive would have withheld him altogether, +had not the story told by Marcian of his 'rival's' insolent menace +rankled in him and urged him to show that he felt no fear. Chance led +him past the little church of St. Agatha, which belonged to the Arians; +it helped him to fix his thoughts upon Veranilda, and silently he swore +that no temptation should prevail against the fidelity due to his +beloved. +</P> + +<P> +Not far from the Thermae of Constantine, and over against that +long-ruined sanctuary of ancient Rome, the Temple of Quirinus, he drew +rein at a great house with a semicircular portico of Carystian columns, +before which stood a bronze bull, the ornament of a fountain now +waterless; on either side of the doorway was a Molossian hound in +marble. A carriage and a litter waiting here showed that Heliodora had +visitors. This caused Basil to hesitate for a moment but he decided to +enter none the less. At his knock he was at once admitted, and a slave +was sent to look after his horse. +</P> + +<P> +Few houses in Rome contained so many fine works of ancient sculpture as +this, for its master had been distinguished by his love of such things +in a time when few cared for them. Some he had purchased at a great +price; more than one masterpiece he had saved from oblivion amid ruins, +or from the common fate of destruction in a lime-kiln. Well for him had +he been content to pass his latter years with the cold creations of the +sculptor; but he turned his eyes upon consummate beauty in flesh and +blood, and this, the last of his purchases, proved the costliest of all. +</P> + +<P> +The atrium was richly adorned. A colossal bust of Berenice faced the +great head of an Amazon, whilst numerous statues, busts, and vases +stood between the pillars; mosaics on the floor represented hunting +scenes, the excellence of the work no less than its worn condition +showing it to be of a time long gone by. Following his conductor, Basil +passed along a corridor, and into a peristyle with a double colonnade. +In the midst of a little garden, planted with flowering shrubs, rose +the statue which its late owner had most prized, an admirable copy of +the Aphrodite of Cnidos; it stood upon a pedestal of black basalt and +was protected by a light canopy with slender columns in all but +transparent alabaster. Round about it were marble seats, and here, +shielded from the sun by little silken awnings, sat Heliodora and her +guests. At once Basil became aware of the young Vivian, whose boyish +form (he was but some eighteen years old) lounged among cushions on the +seat nearest to Heliodora, his eyes fixed upon her beauty in a +languishing gaze, which, as soon as he beheld the new comer, flashed +into fierceness. The others were two women, young and comely, whose +extravagant costume and the attitudes in which they reclined proved +them suitable companions of the lady of the house. Whilst yet at some +distance, Basil had heard a feminine voice rising to shrillness, and as +he approached the group he found a discussion going on which threatened +to become more than vivacious. The shrill speaker he had met here +before, who she was, he knew not, save that she bore the name of +Muscula. +</P> + +<P> +'You—you—you!' this lady was exclaiming contemptuously. 'You say +this, and you say that! Mother of God! What do <I>you</I> know about racing? +When were you last in the circus at Constantinople? At eight years old +you once told me. You have a good memory if you can remember as far +back as that!' +</P> + +<P> +She shrieked a laugh, which no one else joined in. Heliodora, to whom +the speech was addressed, affected to smile as in lofty tolerance of +infantine pettishness. At this moment Basil stepped up to her, and +kissed her hand; As though for contrast with Muscula's utterance, she +greeted him in the softest tone her voice could compass, inviting him +with a gesture to take a place at her side, or rather at her feet, for +she was reclining on a long couch. Heliodora's robe was of hyacinth +blue, broidered in silver thread with elaborate designs. Bracelets, +chains, and rings shone about her in the wonted profusion. Above the +flat coils of her hair lay a little bunch of grapes between two vine +leaves, wrought in gold, and at her waist hung a dagger, the silver +sheath chased with forms of animals. Standing behind her the little +Anglian slave Laetus gently fanned her with a peacock's tail, or +sprinkled her with perfume from a vial; the air was heavy with Sabaean +odours. +</P> + +<P> +'Ah, here is lord Basil!' pursued Muscula with a mischievous glance at +Vivian. 'He has lived at Constantinople lately—not thirty or forty +years ago. Tell us, sweet lord'—she bent towards him with large, +rolling eyes—'was it not Helladius who won for the Greens when Thomas +the Blue was overturned and killed?' +</P> + +<P> +'For all I know it may have been,' replied Basil carelessly; he had +scarce heard the question. +</P> + +<P> +'I swear you are wrong, Muscula,' put in the third lady. 'The lord +Basil cares naught for such things, and would not contradict you lest +you should scratch his face—so dangerous you look, much more like a +cat than a mouse. By the beard of Holy Peter! should not Heliodora +know, who, though she is too young to remember it herself, has heard of +it many a time from her father. You think too much of yourself, O +Muscula, since you ate crumbs from the hands of Bessas.' +</P> + +<P> +The boy Vivian gave a loud laugh, rolling on his cushions. +</P> + +<P> +'O witty Galla!' he exclaimed. 'Crumbs from the hand of Bessas. Say on, +say on; I love your spicy wit, O Galla! Cannot you find something +sharp, for the most grave, the most virtuous Basil?' +</P> + +<P> +'Hold your saucy tongue, child,' said Heliodora with a pouting smile. +'But it is true that Muscula has won advancement. One doesn't need to +have a very long memory to recall her arrival in Rome. There are who +say that she came as suckling nurse in a lady's train, with the promise +of marriage to a freedman when her mistress's baby was weaned. That is +malice, of course; poor Muscula has had many enemies. For my part, I +have never doubted that she was suckling her own child, nor that its +father was a man of honourable name, and not a slave of the Circus +stables as some said.' +</P> + +<P> +Again Vivian rolled on the cushions in mirth, until he caught Basil's +eye as it glanced at him with infinite scorn. Then he started to a +sitting posture, fingered the handle of his dagger, and glared at +Heliodora's neighbour with all the insolent ferocity of which his face +was capable. This youth was the son of a man whose name sounded ill to +any Roman patriot,—of that Opilio, who, having advanced to high rank +under King Theodoric, was guilty of frauds, fell from his eminence, +and, in hope of regaining the king's favour, forged evidence of +treachery against Boethius. His attire followed the latest model from +Byzantium: a loose, long-sleeved tunic, descending to the feet, its hue +a dark yellow, and over that a long mantle of white silk, held together +upon one shoulder by a great silver buckle in the form of a running +horse; silken shoes, gold embroidered, with leather soles dyed purple; +and on each wrist a bracelet. His black hair was short, and crisped +into multitudinous curls with a narrow band of gold pressing it from +the forehead to the ears. +</P> + +<P> +'Oh, look at little Vivian!' cried Muscula. 'He has the eyes of an +angry rat. What vexes him? Is it because he saw Basil touch Heliodora's +slipper?' +</P> + +<P> +'If I had!' sputtered the boy. 'By the devil, if I had!' +</P> + +<P> +'Oh, he affrights me!' went on the mocking woman. 'Heliodora, stroke +his curls, and give him a kiss, I beseech you. Who knows what dreadful +thing may happen else?' +</P> + +<P> +'I have had enough of this,' said Galla, rising with a careless laugh. +'Your house has been intolerable, most dear Heliodora, since you made +friends with Muscula. Why you did, I'm sure I don't know; but for my +part I take a respectful leave, noble lady, until I hear that this +mouse of the Palatine has ceased to amuse you with its pretty pranks. +May I never be saved if she is fit company for women who respect +themselves.' +</P> + +<P> +'Why such hurry, O chaste Galla!' exclaimed Muscula. 'Is your husband +at home for once? I can answer for it he is not there very often; the +wiser man he.' +</P> + +<P> +'Slap her face, Galla,' cried Vivian. 'At her! She will run before you.' +</P> + +<P> +Galla moved as if to act upon this advice, but the voice of Heliodora, +peremptory, resonant, checked her step. +</P> + +<P> +'None of that! Get you gone, both of you, and try conclusions if you +will in the open street. Off! Pack! By the Virgin Mother, if you linger +I will have you flung out of doors.' +</P> + +<P> +In her amazement and indignation, Galla rose to the tips of her feet. +</P> + +<P> +'This to <I>me</I>!' she screamed. 'To me, the only woman of noble birth and +honest life who still remained your friend! Wanton! witch! poisoner!' +</P> + +<P> +Basil sprang up and walked aside, overcome with shame at the scene +enacted before him, and fearing it would end in ignoble violence. He +heard Muscula's shriek of laughter, a shout of anger from Vivian, and +the continued railing of Galla; then, ere he had taken a dozen steps, a +hand touched him, and Heliodora's voice sounded low at his ear. +</P> + +<P> +'You are right, dear Basil. Only an accident prevented me from being +alone at your hour. Forgive me. We will go apart from these +base-tongued creatures.' +</P> + +<P> +But almost in the same moment sounded another voice, that of Muscula, +who had sprung after them. +</P> + +<P> +'Sweet lord Basil,' she murmured at his ear, 'a moment's patience, for +I have that to say which is worth your hearing.' +</P> + +<P> +Heliodora stepped aside. Pale with fury, she held herself in an +attitude of contemptuous indifference. +</P> + +<P> +'Speak and have done!' exclaimed Basil harshly. +</P> + +<P> +'But a word, Illustrious. I know well why you are here. Not for this +woman's painted cheeks and essence-soaked hair: you had enough of that +long ago. You come because she pretends to know a secret which concerns +you nearly. It was to discover this secret that she sought friendship +with me. But do not imagine, sweet lord, that I tell all I know to +Heliodora. I have played with her curiosity and fooled her. From me she +has learnt nothing true. Even if she desired to tell you the truth—and +be sure she does not—she could only mislead you.' +</P> + +<P> +Basil was standing between the two women, his eyes on the ground. Had +he watched Heliodora at this moment, he would have understood the +sudden start with which Muscula sprang nearer to him as if for +protection. +</P> + +<P> +'I alone,' she continued, in a voice not so subdued but that Heliodora +could hear every word. 'I alone can discover for you what you wish to +know. Give yourself no more trouble in suing to a woman of whom you are +weary—a woman evil and dangerous as a serpent. When you choose to seek +me, dear lord, I will befriend you. Till that day, fare you well, and +beware of other things than the silver-hilted dagger—which she would +draw upon me did she dare. But she knows that I too have my little +bosom friend—' she touched her waist—'though it does not glitter +before every eye.' +</P> + +<P> +Therewith Muscula turned and tripped off, looking back to laugh aloud +before she disappeared in the corridor. Galla was already gone, half +persuaded, half threatened away by Vivian, who now stood with knitted +brows glaring at Basil. +</P> + +<P> +'I must get rid of this boy,' said Heliodora to her companion. 'In a +moment we shall be alone.' +</P> + +<P> +Basil was held from taking curt leave only by Vivian's insolent eyes; +when Heliodora moved, he stepped slowly after her. +</P> + +<P> +'Your company is precious, dear Vivian,' he heard her say, 'but you +must not spoil me with too much of it. Why did you not go away with +Galla, whose wit so charms you, and whose husband is so complaisant? +There, kiss my little finger, and say good-bye.' +</P> + +<P> +'That shall be when it pleases me,' was Vivian's reply. 'To-day I have +a mind to sup with you, Heliodora. Let that intruder know it; or I will +do so myself.' +</P> + +<P> +Heliodora had the air of humouring a jest. Putting forth a hand, she +caught the stripling's ear and pinched it shrewdly. +</P> + +<P> +'Little lord,' she said, 'you take too large a liberty.' +</P> + +<P> +Whereto Vivian replied with a pleasantry so broad and so significant +that Heliodora's cheek fired; for she saw that Basil stood within +hearing. +</P> + +<P> +'Nay, I must be brief with you, young monkey!' she exclaimed. 'Away! +When I am at leisure for your tricks I will send for you. Be off!' +</P> + +<P> +'And leave you with that...?' cried the other, using a villainous +word. +</P> + +<P> +Hereupon Basil addressed him. +</P> + +<P> +'Whether you stay or go, foul mouth, is naught to me. I am myself in +haste to be gone, but I will not leave you without a lesson by which, +perchance, you may profit.' +</P> + +<P> +As he uttered the last word, he dealt Vivian such a buffet on the side +of the head with his open hand that the youngster staggered. The result +of this, Basil had well foreseen; he stood watchful, and in an instant, +as a dagger gleamed before his eyes, grasped the descending arm that +wielded it. Vivian struggled furiously, but was overcome by the other's +strength. Flung violently to the ground, his head struck against the +edge of a marble seat, and he lay senseless. +</P> + +<P> +Heliodora looked on with the eyes with which she had often followed a +fight between man and beast in the amphitheatre. Pride, and something +more, lit up her countenance as she turned to Basil. +</P> + +<P> +'Brave generous!' she exclaimed, her hands clasped against her bosom. +'Not even to draw your dagger! Noble Basil!' +</P> + +<P> +'Have him looked to,' was the reply; 'and console him as you choose. +Lady, I bid you farewell.' +</P> + +<P> +For a moment Heliodora stood as though she would let him thus depart. +Basil was nearing the entrance to the corridor, when she sprang after +him. Her arms were about his neck; her body clung against his; she +breathed hotly into his eyes as she panted forth words, Latin, Greek, +all burning with shameless desire. But Basil was not thus to be +subdued. The things that he had heard and seen, and now at last the +hand-to-hand conflict, had put far from him all temptation of the +flesh; his senses were cold as the marbles round about him. This woman, +who had never been anything to him but a lure and a peril, whom he had +regarded with the contempt natural in one of his birth towards all but +a very few of her sex, now disgusted him. He freed himself from her +embrace with little ceremony. +</P> + +<P> +'Have I deceived you?' he asked. 'Have I pretended to come here for +anything but my own purpose, which you pretended to serve?' +</P> + +<P> +Heliodora stood in a strange attitude, her arms thrown back, her body +leaning forward—much like some fierce and beautiful animal watching +the moment to spring. +</P> + +<P> +'Do you believe what that harlot said?' she asked in a thick voice. +</P> + +<P> +'Enough of it to understand my folly in hoping to learn anything +through you. Let us part, and think of each other no more.' +</P> + +<P> +She caught his arm and put her face close to his. +</P> + +<P> +'Leave me thus, and your life shall pay for it.' +</P> + +<P> +Basil laughed scornfully. +</P> + +<P> +'That cockerel,' he replied, pointing to Vivian, who was just stirring, +'sent me a message this morning, that if I valued my life I should not +come here. I heed your threat no more than his.' +</P> + +<P> +They looked into each other's eyes, and Heliodora, deep read in the +looks of men, knew that her desire was frustrate. +</P> + +<P> +'Go then,' she said. 'Go quickly, lest the boy pursue you His second +aim might be surer.' +</P> + +<P> +Basil deigned no reply. He went into the vestibule, waited there until +his horse was brought up, and rode away. +</P> + +<P> +His head bent, scarce noting the way he took, he found himself at the +entrance to Trajan's Forum. Here he checked his horse, and seemed to be +contemplating that scene which for centuries had excited the wonder and +the awe of men. But when he rode on over the grass-grown pavement, he +was as little observant of the arches, statues, galleries, and of that +great column soaring between Basilica and Temple, as of the people who +moved hither and thither, sparse, diminutive. Still brooding, he came +into the Via Lata and to the house of Marcian. +</P> + +<P> +Marcian, said the porter, was closeted with certain visitors. +</P> + +<P> +'Make known to him,' said Basil, 'that I would speak but a word in +private.' +</P> + +<P> +They met in the atrium. Marcian smiled oddly. +</P> + +<P> +'If you come to tell me what you have heard this afternoon,' he +whispered, 'spare your breath. I know it already.' +</P> + +<P> +'How can that be?' +</P> + +<P> +'I have seen an angry woman. Angry women are always either very +mischievous or very useful. In this case I hope to make use of her. But +I can tell you nothing yet, and I would that you were far from Rome. +Could I but persuade you to be gone, dear Basil.' +</P> + +<P> +'I need no more persuading,' replied the other, with sudden resolve. +'If it be true that I am free to leave the city, I go hence to-morrow.' +</P> + +<P> +Marcian's face lighted up. +</P> + +<P> +'To Asculum, then?' +</P> + +<P> +'Since here I have no hope. Can I trust you, Marcian?' he added, +grasping his friend's hand. +</P> + +<P> +'As yourself—nay, better.' +</P> + +<P> +'Then, to Asculum.' +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap16"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XVI +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +WHISPERS +</H3> + +<P> +The greater part of southern Italy was once more held by the Goths. +Whilst the long blockade of Neapolis went on, Totila found time to +subdue all that lay between that city and the Ionian Sea, meeting, +indeed, with little resistance among the country-folk, or from the +inhabitants of the mostly unwalled towns. The Imperial forces which +should have been arrayed against him had wintered in various cities of +the north, where their leaders found all they at present cared for, +repose and plunder; their pay long in arrear, and hardly to be hoped +for, the Greek soldiers grew insubordinate, lived as they would or +could, and with the coming of spring deserted in numbers to the +victorious enemy. Appeals to Byzantium for reinforcements had as yet +resulted only in the sending of a small, ill-equipped fleet, which, +after much delay in Sicilian ports, sailed for Neapolis, only to be +surprised by a storm, and utterly wrecked on the shores of the great +bay. Not long after the news of this disaster, it was reported in Rome +that Neapolis, hopeless of relief, had opened her gates, and presently +the report had strange confirmation. There arrived by the Appian Way +officers of the garrison which had surrendered; not as harassed +fugitives, but travelling with all convenience and security, the Gothic +king himself having expedited their journey and sent guides with them +lest they should miss the road. Nor was this the most wonderful of the +things they had to relate. For they told of humanity on the part of the +barbarian conqueror such as had no parallel in any story of warfare +known to Greek or Roman; how the Neapolitans being so famine-stricken +that they could scarce stand on their legs, King Totila would not at +once send plentiful stores into the town, lest the sufferers should die +of surfeit, but ministered to their needs even as a friendly physician +would have done, giving them at first little food, and more as their +strength revived. To be sure, there were partisans of the Empire in +Rome who scoffed at those who narrated, and those who believed, a story +so incredible. On the Palatine, it was at first received with roars of +laughter, in which the lady Muscula's shrill voice had its part. When +confirmation had put the thing beyond dispute, Bessas and his +supporters made a standing joke of it; if any one fell sick their word +was: 'Send for the learned Totila'; and when there was talk of a siege +of Rome, they declared that their greatest fear, should the city fall, +was of being dieted and physicked by the victor. +</P> + +<P> +Romans there were, however, who heard all this in another spirit. The +ill-fed populace had long ago become ready for any change which might +benefit their stomachs, and the name of Totila was to them significant +of all they lacked under the Greeks. 'Let the Goth come quickly!' +passed from mouth to mouth wherever the vulgar durst speak what they +thought. Among the nobles, prejudice of race and religion and +immemorial pride ensured predominance to the Imperialists, but even +here a Gothic party existed, and imprudent utterances had brought +certain senators into suspicion. The most active friend of Totila, +however, was one whom Bessas never thought of suspecting, having, as he +thought, such evidence of the man's devotion to the Greek cause. +Marcian had played his double part with extraordinary skill and with +boldness which dared every risk. He was now exerting himself in +manifold ways, subtly, persistently, for the supreme achievement of his +intrigue, the delivery of Rome from Byzantine tyranny. +</P> + +<P> +Among the many persons whom he made to serve his ends without admitting +them to his confidence was Galla, the wife of a noble whom Amalasuntha +had employed in her secret communications with Byzantium, and who was +now one of the intimates of Bessas. A light woman, living as she +pleased because of her husband's indifference, Galla knew and cared +nothing about affairs of state, and on that account was the more useful +to Marcian. She believed him in love with her, and he encouraged the +belief; flattering her with pretence at timidity, as though he would +fain have spoken but durst not. Regarding him as her slave, Galla +amused herself by sometimes coming to his house, where, as if in the +pride of chastity, she received his devotion, and meanwhile told him +things he was glad to know. And thus it happened on that day of the +quarrel between Heliodora and Muscula, wherein Galla unexpectedly found +herself involved. Bubbling over with wrath against Heliodora, she at +once sought out Marcian, acquainted him with all that had happened, and +made evident her desire to be in some way avenged. Marcian saw in this +trivial affair the opportunity for a scheme of the gravest import; +difficult, perilous, perhaps impracticable, but so tempting in its +possibilities that he soon resolved to hazard everything on the chance +of success. Basil's departure from Rome, which he had desired for other +reasons, fell pat for the device now shaping itself in his mind. A day +or two after, early in the morning, he went to Heliodora's house, and +sent in a message begging private speech with the lady. As he had +expected, he was received forthwith, Heliodora being aware of his +friendship with Basil. Between her and Marcian the acquaintance was but +slight; he had hitherto regarded her as unserviceable, because too +dangerous. It was because of her dangerous qualities that he now sought +her, and his courage grew as the conversation became intimate. +</P> + +<P> +He began with a confession. Head hanging, visage gloomy, in slow, +indirect, abashed language, he let it be understood that though truly +Basil's friend, he had all along been secretly doing his utmost to +frustrate the lover's search for the Gothic maiden Veranilda, and, as +part of this purpose, had striven to turn Basil's thoughts to +Heliodora. That he had had no better success grieved him to the heart. +All who wished Basil well, desired that he should marry a lady of his +own rank, his own religion, and could he but have won a wife such as +Heliodora! +</P> + +<P> +'Alas!' sighed Marcian, 'it was too much to hope. How could you be +other than cold to him? Had you deigned, thrice gracious lady, to set +your beauty, your gifts, in contest with his memory of that other!' +</P> + +<P> +In every man that approached her, Heliodora suspected a selfish aim, +but it was seldom that she talked with one whose subtlety seemed the +equal of her own. The little she knew of Marcian had predisposed her to +regard him as a cold and melancholy nature, quite uninteresting; she +eyed him now with her keenest scrutiny, puzzled by his story, vainly +seeking its significance. +</P> + +<P> +'Your friend complained to you of my coldness?' she said distantly. +</P> + +<P> +'He scarce spoke of you. I knew too well with what hope he came here. +When he found it vain, he turned away in bitterness.' +</P> + +<P> +This sounded like truth to one who knew Basil. After a moment's +reflection, Heliodora made another inquiry, and in a tone of less +indifference. +</P> + +<P> +'Why, lord Marcian, do you come to tell me this? Basil has quitted +Rome. You can scarce ask me to pursue him.' +</P> + +<P> +'Lady,' was the sad reply, 'I will not even yet abandon hope. But this +is not the moment to plead his cause with you, and indeed I came with a +thought more selfish.' +</P> + +<P> +Ready to believe whatever might be uttered with such preface, Heliodora +smiled and bade the speaker continue. Again Marcian's head drooped; +again his words became hesitant, vague. But their purpose at length +grew unmistakable; unhappy that he was, he himself loved Veranilda, and +the vehemence of his passion overcame his loyalty in friendship; never +whilst he lived should Basil wed the Gothic maiden. This revelation +astonished Heliodora; she inquired when and how Marcian had become +enamoured, and heard in reply a detailed narrative, part truth, part +false, of the events at Surrentum, known to her as yet only in outline +and without any mention of Marcian's part in them. Upon her surprise +followed malicious joy. Was there no means, she asked, of discovering +Veranilda? And the other in a low voice made answer that he knew where +she was—knew but too well. +</P> + +<P> +'I shall not ask you to tell me the secret,' said Heliodora, with a +smile. +</P> + +<P> +'Gracious lady,' pursued Marcian, 'it is for the purpose of revealing +it to you that I am here. Veranilda is in the palace, held in guard by +Bessas till she can have escort to Constantinople.' +</P> + +<P> +'Ha! You are sure of that?' +</P> + +<P> +'I have it on testimony that cannot be doubted.' +</P> + +<P> +'Why then,' exclaimed Heliodora, all but betraying her exultation in +the thought, 'there is little chance that Basil's love will prosper.' +</P> + +<P> +'Little chance, dear lady, I hope and believe, but I have confessed to +you that I speak as a self-seeker and a faithless friend. It is not +enough that Basil may not wed her; I would fain have her for myself.' +</P> + +<P> +The listener laughed. She began to think this man something of a +simpleton. +</P> + +<P> +'Why, my excellent Marcian, I will give you all my sympathy and wish +you good fortune. But that any one may do. What more do you expect of +me?' +</P> + +<P> +Marcian looked towards the open doorway. They were seated in a +luxurious little room, lighted from the peristyle, its adornments in +sculpture a sleeping Hermaphrodite and a drunken satyr; on the wall +were certain marble low-reliefs, that behind Heliodora representing +Hylas drawn down by the Naiads. +</P> + +<P> +'Speak without fear,' she reassured him. 'In this house, believe me, no +one dare play the eavesdropper.' +</P> + +<P> +'I have to speak,' said Marcian, bending forward, 'of things +perilous—a life hanging on every word. Only to one of whose +magnanimity I felt assured should I venture to disclose my thought. You +have heard,' he proceeded after a pause, 'and, yet I am perchance wrong +in supposing that such idle talk could reach your ears, let me make +known to you then, that with Bessas in the palace dwells a fair woman +(or so they say, for I have not seen her) named Muscula. She is said to +have much power with the commander.' +</P> + +<P> +The listener's countenance had darkened. Regarding Marcian with haughty +coldness, she asked him how this could concern <I>her</I>. He, in appearance +dismayed, falteringly entreated her pardon. +</P> + +<P> +'Be not angered, O noble Heliodora! I did not presume to think that you +yourself had any acquaintance with this woman. I wished to make known +to you things that I have heard of her—things which I doubt not are +true. But, as it is only in my own interest that I speak, I will say no +more until I have your permission.' +</P> + +<P> +This having been disdainfully granted, Marcian proceeded with seeming +timid boldness, marking in his listener's eyes the eager interest with +which she followed him. Though every detail of the story was of his own +invention, its plausibility had power upon one whose passions inclined +her to believe it. He told then that Muscula, bribed by Basil, was +secretly endeavouring to procure the release of Veranilda, which should +be made to appear an escape of Basil's contriving. The lover's visits +to Heliodora, he said, and his supposed ignorance as to where Veranilda +was detained, were part of the plot. Already Muscula had so far wrought +upon Bessas that success seemed within view, and Basil's departure from +Rome was only a pretence; he waited near at hand, ready to carry off +his beloved. +</P> + +<P> +'How come you to know all this?' Heliodora asked bluntly at the first +pause. +</P> + +<P> +'That also I will tell you,' answered Marcian. 'It is through some one +whom Muscula holds of more account than Bessas, and with whom she +schemes against him.' +</P> + +<P> +'By the Holy' Mother!' exclaimed Heliodora, 'that is yourself.' +</P> + +<P> +Marcian shook his head. +</P> + +<P> +'Not so, gracious lady.' +</P> + +<P> +'Nay, why should you scruple to confess it? You love Veranilda, and do +you think I could not pardon an intrigue which lay on your way to her?' +</P> + +<P> +'Nevertheless it is not I,' persisted the other gravely. +</P> + +<P> +'Be it so,' said Heliodora. 'And in all this, my good Marcian, what +part have I? How does it regard me? What do you seek of me?' +</P> + +<P> +Once more the man seemed overcome with confusion. +</P> + +<P> +'Indeed I scarce know,' he murmured. 'I hardly dare to think what was +in my mind when I sought you. I came to you, O Heliodora, as to one +before whom men bow, one whose beauty is resistless, whose wish is a +command. What gave me courage was a word that fell from Bessas himself +when I sat at table with him yesterday. "Wore I the purple," he said, +"Heliodora should be my Empress."' +</P> + +<P> +'Bessas said that?' +</P> + +<P> +'He did—and in the presence of Muscula, who heard it, I am bound to +say, with a sour visage.' +</P> + +<P> +Heliodora threw back her head and laughed. 'I think he has scarce seen +me thrice,' fell from her musingly. 'Tell him from me,' she added, +'that it is indiscreet to talk of wearing the purple before those who +may report his words.' +</P> + +<P> +There was a silence. Marcian appeared to brood, and Heliodora did her +best to read his face. If, she asked herself; he had told her +falsehoods, to what end had he contrived them? Nothing that she could +conjecture was for a moment satisfying. If he told the truth, what an +opportunity were here for revenge on Muscula, and for the frustration +of Basil's desire. +</P> + +<P> +How that revenge was to be wrought, or, putting it the other way, how +Marcian was to be helped, she saw as yet only in glimpses of ruthless +purpose. Of Bessas she did not think as of a man easy to subdue or to +cajole; his soldierly rudeness, the common gossip of his inconstancy in +love, and his well-known avarice, were not things likely to touch her +imagination, nor had she ever desired to number him in the circle of +her admirers. That it might be in her power to do what Marcian +besought, she was very willing to persuade herself, but the undertaking +had such colour of danger that she wished for more assurance of the +truth of what she had heard. +</P> + +<P> +'It seems to me,' she said at length, 'that the hour is of the latest. +What if Veranilda escape this very day?' +</P> + +<P> +'Some days must of necessity pass,' answered Marcian. 'The plot is not +so far advanced.' +</P> + +<P> +He rose hurriedly as if distracted by painful thoughts. +</P> + +<P> +'Noble lady, forgive me for thus urging you with my foolish sorrows. +You see how nearly I am distraught. If by any means you could aid me, +were it only so far as to withhold her I love from the arms of Basil—' +</P> + +<P> +So deep was Heliodora sunk in her thoughts that she allowed Marcian to +leave her without another word. He, having carried his machination thus +far, could only await the issue, counting securely on Heliodora's +passions and her ruthlessness. He had but taken the first step towards +the end for which he schemed; were this successful, with the result +that Heliodora used her charms upon the Greek commander, and, as might +well happen, obtained power over him, he could then proceed to the next +stage of his plot, which had a scope far beyond the loves of Basil and +Veranilda. That the Gothic maiden was really in the hands of Bessas he +did not believe; moreover, time had soothed his jealousy of Basil, and, +had he been able to further his friend's desire, he would now willingly +have done so; but he scrupled not to incur all manner of risks, for +himself and others, in pursuit of a great design. Marcian's convulsive +piety, like the religion of most men in his day, regarded only the +salvation of his soul from eternal torment, nor did he ever dream that +this would be imperilled by the treacheries in which his life was now +inured. +</P> + +<P> +Only a few hours after his departure, Heliodora, by means familiar to +her, had learnt that Marcian's confidential servant was a man named +Sagaris, a conceited and talkative fellow, given to boasting of his +light loves. Before sunset, Sagaris had received a mysterious message, +bidding him repair that night to a certain place of public resort upon +the Quirinal. He did so, was met by the same messenger, and bidden wait +under a portico. Before long there approached through the darkness a +muffled figure, followed by two attendants with lanterns; the Syrian +heard his name whispered; a light touch drew him further away from the +lantern-bearing slaves, and a woman's voice, low, caressing, began to +utter endearments and reproaches. Not to-night, it said, should he know +who she was; she could speak a name which would make his heart beat; +but he should not hear it until he had abandoned the unworthy woman +whose arts had won him. 'What woman?' asked Sagaris in astonishment. +And the answer was whispered, 'Muscula.' +</P> + +<P> +Now Muscula's name and position were well known to the Syrian. The +reproach of the mysterious fair one made him swell with pride; he +affected inability to deny the charge, and in the next breath declared +that Muscula was but his sport, that in truth he cared nothing for her, +he did but love her as he had loved women numberless, not only in Rome, +but in Alexandria, Antioch, Constantinople. The muffled lady gave a +deep sigh. Ah! and so it would be with <I>her</I>, were she weak enough to +yield to <I>her</I> passion. Sagaris began to protest, to vow. +</P> + +<P> +'It is vain,' replied the amorous voice. 'Only in one way can you +convince me and win me.' +</P> + +<P> +'Oh, how?' +</P> + +<P> +'Let me hear that Muscula is dead.' +</P> + +<P> +Sagaris stood mute. A hand touched his shoulder, his hair; perfumes +loaded the air about him. +</P> + +<P> +'Tell me your name and it shall be done.' +</P> + +<P> +The warm mouth breathed against his cheek and a name was murmured. +</P> + +<P> +The second day after this saw an event in the Palatine which was matter +of talk for some two days more, and then passed into oblivion. Rumour +said that Muscula had been detected plotting against the life of +Bessas, that she had been examined under torture, found guilty, and +executed. Certain gossips pretended that there was no plot at all, but +that Bessas, weary of his mistress, had chosen this way of getting rid +of her. Be that as it might, Muscula was dead. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap17"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XVII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +LEANDER THE POLITIC +</H3> + +<P> +For most of his knowledge of private things that happened on the +Palatine—and little that went on in the household of Bessas escaped +him—Marcian depended upon his servant Sagaris. Exorbitant vanity and +vagrant loves made the Syrian rather a dangerous agent; but it was +largely owing to these weaknesses that he proved so serviceable. His +master had hitherto found him faithful, and no one could have worked +more cunningly and persistently when set to play the spy or worm for +secrets. Notwithstanding all his efforts, this man failed to discover +whether Veranilda had indeed passed into the guardianship of Bessas; +good reason in Marcian's view for believing that she was still detained +by Leander, and probably in some convent. But a rumour sprang up among +those who still took interest in the matter that some one writing from +Sicily professed to have seen the Gothic maiden on board a vessel which +touched there on its way to the East. This came to the ears of Marcian +on the day after his conversation with Heliodora. Whether it were true +or not he cared little, but he was disturbed by its having become +subject of talk at this moment, for Heliodora could not fail to hear +the story. +</P> + +<P> +The death of Muscula set him quivering with expectancy. That it +resulted from his plotting he could not be assured. Sagaris, who wore a +more than usually self-important air when speaking of the event, had +all manner of inconsistent reports on his tongue Not many days passed +before Marcian received a letter, worded like an ordinary invitation, +summoning him to the house on the Quirinal. +</P> + +<P> +He went at the third hour of the morning, and was this time led +upstairs to a long and wide gallery, which at one side looked down upon +the garden in the rear of the house, and at the other offered a view +over a great part of Rome. Here was an aviary, constructed of fine +lattice work in wood, over-trailed with creeping plants, large enough +to allow of Heliodora's entering and walking about among the multitude +of birds imprisoned. At this amusement Marcian found her. Upon her head +perched a little songster; on her shoulder nestled a dove; two +fledglings in the palm of her hand opened their beaks for food. Since +her last visit a bird had died, and Heliodora's eyes were still moist +from the tears she had shed over it. +</P> + +<P> +'You do not love birds,' she said, after gazing fixedly at Marcian a +moment through the trellis. +</P> + +<P> +'I never thought,' was the reply, 'whether I loved them or not.' +</P> + +<P> +'I had rather give my love to them than to any of mankind. They repay +it better.' +</P> + +<P> +She came forth, carefully closed the wicket behind her, and began to +pace in the gallery as though she were alone. Presently she stood to +gaze over the city spread before her, and her eyes rested upon the one +vast building—so it seemed—which covered the Palatine Hill. +</P> + +<P> +'Marcian!' +</P> + +<P> +He drew near. Without looking at him, her eyes still on the distance, +she said in an unimpassioned voice: +</P> + +<P> +'Did you lie to me, or were you yourself deceived?' +</P> + +<P> +'Lady, I know not of what you speak.' +</P> + +<P> +'You know well.' Her dark eyes flashed a glance of rebuke, and turned +scornfully away again. 'But it matters nothing. I sent for you to ask +what more you have to say.' +</P> + +<P> +Marcian affected surprise and embarrassment. +</P> + +<P> +'It was my hope, gracious lady, that some good news awaited me on your +lips. What can I say more than you have already heard from me?' +</P> + +<P> +'Be it so,' was the careless reply. 'I have nothing to tell you except +that Veranilda is not there.' She pointed towards the palace. 'And this +I have no doubt you know.' +</P> + +<P> +'Believe me, O Heliodora,' he exclaimed earnestly, 'I did not. I was +perhaps misled by—' +</P> + +<P> +Her eyes checked him. +</P> + +<P> +'By whom?' +</P> + +<P> +'By one who seemed to speak with honesty and assurance.' +</P> + +<P> +'Let us say, then, that you were misled; whether deceived or not, +concerns only yourself. And so, lord Marcian, having done what I can +for you, though it be little, I entreat your kind remembrance, and God +keep you.' +</P> + +<P> +Her manner had changed to formal courtesy, and, with this dismissal, +she moved away again. Marcian stood watching her for a moment, then +turned to look at the wide prospect. A minute or two passed; he heard +Heliodora's step approaching. +</P> + +<P> +'What keeps you here?' she asked coldly. +</P> + +<P> +'Lady, I am thinking.' +</P> + +<P> +'Of what?' +</P> + +<P> +'Of the day soon to come when Totila will be king in Rome.' +</P> + +<P> +Heliodora's countenance relaxed in a smile. +</P> + +<P> +'Yet you had nothing more to say to me,' she murmured in a significant +tone. +</P> + +<P> +'There were much to say, Heliodora, to one whom I knew my friend. I had +dared to think you so.' +</P> + +<P> +'What proof of friendship does your Amiability ask?' inquired the lady +with a half-mocking, half-earnest look. +</P> + +<P> +As if murmuring to himself, Marcian uttered the name 'Veranilda.' +</P> + +<P> +'They say she is far on the way to Constantinople,' said Heliodora. 'If +so, and if Bessas sent her, his craft is greater than I thought. For I +have spoken with him, and'—she smiled—'he seems sincere when he +denied all knowledge of the maiden.' +</P> + +<P> +Marcian still gazed at the distance. Again he spoke as if unconsciously +murmuring his thoughts: +</P> + +<P> +'Totila advances. In Campania but a few towns still await his conquest. +The Appian Way is open. Ere summer be past he will stand at the gates +of Rome.' +</P> + +<P> +'Rome is not easily taken,' let fall the listener, also speaking as +though absently. +</P> + +<P> +'It is more easily surrendered,' was the reply. +</P> + +<P> +'What! You suspect Bessas of treachery?' +</P> + +<P> +'We know him indolent and neglectful of duty. Does he not live here at +his ease, getting into his own hands, little by little, all the wealth +of the Romans, careless of what befall if only he may glut his avarice? +He will hold the city as long as may be, only because the city is his +possession. He is obstinate, bull-headed. Yet if one were found who +could persuade him that the cause of the Greeks is hopeless—that, by +holding out to the end, he will merely lose all, whereas, if he came to +terms—' +</P> + +<P> +Marcian was watching Heliodora's face. He paused. Their eyes met for an +instant. +</P> + +<P> +'Who can be assured,' asked Heliodora thoughtfully, 'that Totila will +triumph? They say the Patricius will come again.' +</P> + +<P> +'Too late. Not even Belisarius can undo the work of Alexandros and +these devouring captains. From end to end of Italy, the name of the +Greeks is abhorred; that of Totila is held in honour. He will renew the +kingdom of Theodoric.' +</P> + +<P> +Marcian saw straight before him the aim of all his intrigue. It was an +aim unselfish, patriotic. Though peril of the gravest lay in every word +he uttered, not this made him tremble, but the fear lest he had +miscalculated, counting too securely on his power to excite this +woman's imagination. For as yet her eye did not kindle. It might be +that she distrusted herself, having learnt already that Bessas was no +easy conquest. Or it might be that he himself was the subject of her +distrust. +</P> + +<P> +'What is it to <I>you</I>?' she suddenly asked, with a fierce gaze. 'Can the +Goth bring Veranilda back to Italy?' +</P> + +<P> +'I do not believe that she has gone.' +</P> + +<P> +Marcian had knowledge enough of women, and of Heliodora, to harp on a +personal desire rather than hint at high motive. But he was impelled by +the turmoil of his fears and hopes to excite passions larger than +jealousy. Throwing off all restraint, he spoke with hot eloquence of +all that might be gained by one who could persuade the Greek commander +to open the gates of Rome. Totila was renowned for his generosity, and +desired above all things to reconcile, rather than subdue, the Roman +people; scarce any reward would seem to him too great for service such +as helped this end. +</P> + +<P> +'Bessas lies before you. Ply your spells; make of him your creature; +then whisper in his ear such promise of infinite gold as will make his +liver melt. For <I>him</I> the baser guerdon; for <I>you</I>, O Heliodora, all +the wishes of your noble heart, with power, power, power and glory +unspeakable!' +</P> + +<P> +Heliodora pondered. Then, without raising her head, she asked quietly: +</P> + +<P> +'You speak for the King?' +</P> + +<P> +'For the King,' was answered in like tone. +</P> + +<P> +'Come to me again, Marcian, when I have had time for thought.' +</P> + +<P> +With that they parted. On the same day, Sagaris was bidden as before to +a meeting after nightfall, and again he conversed with a lady whose +face was concealed from him. She began with a gentle reproof, for he +had ventured to present himself at her door, and to beg audience. Let +him be patient; his hour would come, but it must be when she chose. +Many questions did she put to him, all seeming to be prompted by +interest in the Gothic maiden of whom Sagaris had heard so much. With +the simplicity of inordinate conceit, he assured her that here she had +no ground for jealousy; Veranilda he had never beheld. Softly she +corrected his error; her interest in the maiden was a friendly one. +Only let him discover for her where Veranilda was concealed. Sagaris +was led to avow that in this very search he and his master had been +vainly occupied for many a day; it had carried them, he declared in a +whisper, even to the camp of King Totila. With this the questioner +appeared to be satisfied, and the Syrian was soon dismissed, promises +in a caressing voice his sole reward. +</P> + +<P> +When Marcian next held speech with Heliodora—it was after some +days—she bore herself more openly. In the course of their talk, he +learnt that she had consulted an astrologer, and with results wholly +favourable to his design. Not only had this man foretold to her that +Totila was destined to reign gloriously over the Italians for many +years, but he saw in Heliodora's own fate a mysterious link with that +of the triumphant king; her, under the Gothic conquest, great things +awaited. 'Do,' was his counsel, 'that which thou hast in mind.' Hearing +all this, Marcian's heart leaped with joy. He urged her to pursue their +end with all the speed that prudence permitted. For his own part, he +would make known to Totila as soon as might be the hope of his friends +in Rome. +</P> + +<P> +Again some days passed, and Marcian received one of those messages +which at times reached him from the Gothic king. Totila's bidding was +contained in a few words: Let Marcian seek speech with the deacon +Leander. Surprised, but having full confidence in the messenger, +Marcian presently wrote to the deacon in brief terms, saying that he +wished to converse with him regarding a certain heretic of whom he had +hopes. To this came prompt reply, which did not, however, invite +Marcian, as he had expected, to a meeting in private; but merely said +that, on the morrow, an hour after sunrise, Leander would be found in a +certain public place. +</P> + +<P> +Leander was busied just now in a matter peculiarly congenial to him, +the destruction of an ancient building in order to enrich with its +columns and precious marbles a new Christian church. At the hour +appointed, Marcian found him in the temple of Minerva Chalcidica, +directing workmen as to what they should remove; before him lay certain +mouldings in green porphyry (the precious <I>lapis Lacedaemonius</I>), which +had been carefully broken from their places, and he was regarding them +with the eye of a lover. For the first few minutes of their +conversation, Marcian felt mistrust, as the deacon appeared to have no +intelligence of any secret purpose in this meeting; but presently, +still gossiping of stones, Leander led him out of the temple and walked +in the shadowy public place beside the Pantheon. +</P> + +<P> +'That must be purified and consecrated,' he remarked, glancing from the +granite columns of Agrippa's porch to the bronze-tiled dome. 'Too long +it has been left to the demons.' +</P> + +<P> +Marcian, preoccupied as he was, listened with awe. Since the ravage of +the Vandals, no mortal had passed those vast doors, behind which all +the gods of heathendom, known now for devils, lurked in retreat. +</P> + +<P> +'I have urged it upon the Holy Father,' Leander added. 'But Vigilius is +all absorbed in the dogmatics of Byzantium. A frown of the Empress +Theodora is more to him than the glory of the Omnipotent and the weal +of Christendom.' +</P> + +<P> +The look which accompanied these words was the first hint to Marcian +that he might speak in confidence. He inquired whether the Pope, as was +reported, would shortly sail for Constantinople. +</P> + +<P> +'Before another week has passed,' was the reply, 'he will embark. He +would fain go forth'—a malicious smile was in the corner of Leander's +eye—'without leave-taking of his beloved people but that can scarce be +permitted.' +</P> + +<P> +'Ere he return,' said Marcian, 'things of moment may happen.' +</P> + +<P> +Again the deacon smiled. Seeing on the steps of the Pantheon a couple +of idlers playing at flash-finger, they turned aside to be out of +earshot. +</P> + +<P> +'We are agreed, it seems,' remarked Leander quickly, 'that there is +hope of the heretic. You had news of him yesterday? I, also. It may be +in my power to render him some service—presently, presently. +Meanwhile, what can you tell me of the lost maiden about whom there has +been so much talk? Is it true that Bessas has sent her to the East?' +</P> + +<P> +Marcian turned his eyes upon the speaker's face, and regarded him +fixedly with a half smile. For a moment the deacon appeared to be +unconscious of this; then he met the familiar look, averted his head +again, and said in the same tone as before: +</P> + +<P> +'The heretic, I learn, would gladly see her.' +</P> + +<P> +'It would be as well, I think,' was the reply, 'if his wish were +gratified.' +</P> + +<P> +'Ah? But how would that please a friend of yours, dear lord?' asked +Leander, with unaffected interest. +</P> + +<P> +Marcian's answer was in a tone of entire sincerity, very unlike that he +had used when speaking on this subject with Heliodora. +</P> + +<P> +'It might please him well or ill. The King'—he lowered his voice a +little—'would see with gladness this beautiful maiden of his own +people, sprung too from the royal blood, and would look with favour +upon those who delivered her in safety to him. Should he make her his +queen, and I believe she is worthy of that, the greater his gratitude +to those who prevented her marriage with a Roman. If, on the other +hand, he found that she could not forget her first lover, Totila is +large-hearted enough to yield her up in all honour, and politic enough +to see advantage in her union with the heir of the Anician house. +Between these things, Basil must take his chance. Had he carried off +his love, he would have wedded her in disregard of every danger; and so +long as it was only the Greeks that sought her, I should have done my +best to aid and to protect him. It is different now. Basil I hold +dearer than any friend; his place is in my very heart, and his +happiness is dearer to me than my own; but I cannot help him to +frustrate a desire of Totila. The King is noble; to serve him is to +promote the weal of Italy, for which he fights, and in which name he +will conquer.' +</P> + +<P> +The deacon had paused in his walk. He looked thoughtfully about him. At +this moment there came along the street an ox-drawn wagon, on which lay +the marble statue of a deity; Leander stepped up to it, examined the +marble, spoke with the men who were conveying it, and returned to +Marcian with a shake of the head. +</P> + +<P> +'It pains me to see such carven beauty burnt to lime. And yet how many +thousands of her worshippers are now burning in Gehenna. Lord Marcian,' +he resumed, 'you have spoken earnestly and well, and have given me good +proof of your sincerity. I think with you, and willingly would work +with you.' +</P> + +<P> +'Reverend, does no opportunity present itself?' +</P> + +<P> +'In this moment, none that I can see,' was the suave answer. +</P> + +<P> +'Yet I perceive that you have made some offer of service to the King.' +</P> + +<P> +'It is true; and perchance you shall hear more of it. Be not impatient; +great things are not hastily achieved.' +</P> + +<P> +With sundry other such remarks, so uttered that their triteness seemed +to become the maturity of wisdom, Leander brought the colloquy to an +end. It was his principle to trust no man unless he were assured of a +motive strong enough to make him trustworthy, and that motive he had +not yet discovered in Marcian. Nor, indeed, was he entirely sure of +himself; for though he had gone so far as to communicate with the +Gothic king, it was only in view of possibilities whose issue he still +awaited. If the Pope set forth for Constantinople, he would leave as +representative in Rome the deacon Pelagius, and from this brother +cleric Leander had already received certain glances, which were not to +be misunderstood. The moment might shortly come when he would need a +friend more powerful than any he had within the city. +</P> + +<P> +But Vigilius lingered, and Leander, save in his influence with the +irresolute Pontiff, postponed the step he had in view. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap18"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XVIII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +PELAGIUS +</H3> + +<P> +Rome waited. It had been thought that the fall of Neapolis would be +followed by Totila's swift march along the Appian Way; but three months +had passed, and the Gothic king was but little nearer to the city. He +seemed resolved to leave nothing behind him that had not yielded to his +arms; slowly and surely his rule was being established over all the +South. Through the heats of summer, with pestilence still lurking in +her palaces and her dens, no fountain plashing where the sun blazed on +Forum and on street, Rome waited. +</P> + +<P> +In June Bessas was joined by another of the Greek commanders, Joannes, +famed for his ferocity, and nicknamed the Devourer. A show of activity +in the garrison resulted from this arrival; soldiers were set to work +upon parts of the city wall which needed strengthening; the Romans +began to make ready for a siege; and some, remembering the horrors of a +few years ago, took to flight. There was much talk of a conspiracy to +open the gates to Totila; one or two senators were imprisoned, and a +few Arian priests who still dwelt in Rome were sentenced to banishment. +But when, after a few weeks, Joannes and his troop marched northward, +commotion ceased; Bessas fell back into the life of indolent rapacity, +work on the walls was soon neglected, and Rome found that she had still +only to wait. +</P> + +<P> +About this time Marcian fell sick. He had suffered much from +disappointment of high hopes, neither Heliodora nor Leander aiding his +schemes as he expected. The constant danger in which he lived tried his +fortitude to the utmost, and at length he began to burn with fever. +Agonies came upon him, for even the slightest disorder in these +plague-stricken times filled men with fear. And whilst he lay thus +wretched, his servants scarce daring to attend upon him—Sagaris +refused to enter his chamber, and held himself ready for flight (with +all he could lay hands on) as soon as the physician should have uttered +the fatal word—whilst his brain was confused and his soul shaken with +even worse than the wonted terrors, there came to visit him the deacon +Pelagius. That the visit happened at this moment was mere chance, but +Pelagius, hearing of Marcian's condition, felt that he could not have +come more opportunely. A courageous man, strong in body as in mind, he +was not to be alarmed by mere talk of the pest; bidding the porter +conduct him, he came to Marcian's bedside, and there sat for half an +hour. When he went away, his handsome countenance wore a smile of +thoughtful satisfaction. +</P> + +<P> +As though this conversation had relieved him, the sick man at once +began to mend. But with his recovery came another torment. Lying in +fear of death and hell, he had opened his soul to Pelagius, and had +revealed secrets upon which depended all he cared for in this world. +Not only he himself was ruined, but the lives of those he had betrayed +were in jeopardy. That suspicion was busy with him he knew; the +keen-sighted deacon had once already held long talk with him, whereupon +followed troublesome interrogation by Bessas, who had since regarded +him with somewhat a sullen eye. How would Pelagius use the knowledge he +had gained? Even when quite recovered from the fever, Marcian did not +venture to go forth, lest an enemy should be waiting for him without. +In his weak, dejected and humbled state he thought of the peace of a +monastery, and passed most of his time in prayer. +</P> + +<P> +But when a few days had passed without event, and increasing strength +enabled him to think less brain-sickly, he began to ask whether he +himself had not peradventure been betrayed It was a long time since he +had seen Heliodora, who appeared to be making no effort for the +conquest of the Greek commander; had she merely failed, and lost +courage, or did the change in her mean treachery? To trust Heliodora +was to take a fool's risk; even a little wound to her vanity might +suffice to turn her against him. At their last meeting she had sat with +furrowed brows, brooding as if over some wrong, and when he urged her +for an explanation of her mood, she was first petulant, then fiery, so +that he took umbrage and left her. Happily she knew none of his graver +secrets, much though she had tried to discover them. Were she +traitorous, she could betray him alone. +</P> + +<P> +But he, in the wreck of his manhood, had uttered many names besides +hers—that of Basil, from whom he had recently heard news, that of the +politic Leander, those of several nobles engaged in the Gothic cause. +Scarcely could he believe that he had been guilty of such baseness; he +would fain have persuaded himself that it was but a memory of delirium. +He cursed the subtlety of Pelagius, which had led him on till +everything was uttered. Pelagius, the bosom friend of Justinian, would +know how to deal with plotters against the Empire. Why had he not +already struck? What cunning held his hand? +</P> + +<P> +Unable at length to sit in idleness, he tried to ease his conscience by +sending a warning to Basil, using for this purpose the trustworthy +slave who, in many disguises, was wont to travel with his secret +messages. This man wore false hair so well fixed upon his head that it +could not attract attention; the letter he had to deliver was laid +beneath an artificial scalp. +</P> + +<P> +'Be on your guard,' thus Marcian wrote. 'Some one has made known to the +Greeks that you are arming men, and for what purpose. Delay no longer +than you must in joining the King. In him is your only hope, if hope +there still can be. I, too, shall soon be in the camp.' +</P> + +<P> +These last words were for his friend's encouragement. As soon as the +letter had been despatched, he went forth about Rome in his usual way, +spoke with many persons, and returned home unscathed. Plainly, then, he +was to be left at liberty yet awhile; Pelagius had purposes to serve. +Next day, he betook himself to the Palatine; Bessas received him with +bluff friendliness, joked about his escape from death (for every one +believed that he had had the plague), and showed no sign of the +mistrust which had marked their last meeting. In gossip with certain +Romans who were wont to hang about the commander, flattering and +fawning upon him for their base advantage, he learnt that no one had +yet succeeded to the place left vacant by the hapless Muscula; only in +casual amours, generally of the ignoblest, did Bessas bestow his +affections. Of Heliodora there was no talk. +</P> + +<P> +Another day he passed in sauntering; nothing that he could perceive in +those with whom he talked gave hint of menace to his safety. Then, +early the next morning, he turned his steps to the Quirinal. As usual, +he was straightway admitted to Heliodora's house, but had to wait +awhile until the lady could receive him. Gloomily thoughtful, standing +with eyes fixed upon those of the great bust of Berenice, he was +startled by a sudden cry from within the house, the hoarse yell of a +man in agony; it was repeated, and became a long shriek, rising and +falling in terrible undulation. He had stepped forward to seek an +explanation, when Heliodora's eunuch smilingly came to meet him. +</P> + +<P> +'What is that?' asked Marcian, his nerves a-quiver. +</P> + +<P> +'The noble lady has ordered a slave to be punished,' was the cheerful +reply. +</P> + +<P> +'What is his fault?' +</P> + +<P> +'Illustrious, I know not,' answered the eunuch more gravely. +</P> + +<P> +The fearful sounds still continuing, Marcian turned as though to hurry +away; but the eunuch, following, implored him not to go, for his +departure would but increase Heliodora's wrath. So for a few more +minutes he endured the horror of that unbroken yell. When it ceased, he +could hear his heart beating. +</P> + +<P> +Summoned at length to the lady's presence, he found her lying in the +chamber of the Hermaphrodite. A strange odour floated in the air, +overcoming that of wonted perfumes. +</P> + +<P> +Faint with a sudden nausea, Marcian performed no courtesy, but stood +regarding the living woman much as he had gazed at the face in marble, +absent and sombre-browed. +</P> + +<P> +'What now?' were Heliodora's first words, her smile fading in +displeasure. +</P> + +<P> +'Must we needs converse in your torture-chamber?' asked Marcian. +</P> + +<P> +'Are your senses more delicate than mine?' +</P> + +<P> +'It seems so. I could wish I had chosen another hour for visiting you.' +</P> + +<P> +'It was well chosen,' said Heliodora, regarding him fixedly. 'This +slave I have chastised, shall I tell you of what he was guilty? He has +a blabbing tongue.' +</P> + +<P> +'I see not how that concerns me,' was his cold reply, as he met her +look with steady indifference. +</P> + +<P> +From her lounging attitude Heliodora changed suddenly to one in which, +whilst seated, she bent forward as though about to spring at him. +</P> + +<P> +'How comes it that Bessas knows every word that has passed between us?' +broke fiercely from her lips. +</P> + +<P> +In an instant Marcian commanded himself, shrugged his shoulders, and +laughed. +</P> + +<P> +'That is a question,' he said, 'to put to your astrologer, your +oneirocritic, your genethliac. I profess not to read mysteries.' +</P> + +<P> +'Liar!' she shot out. 'How could he have had it but from your own lips?' +</P> + +<P> +Marcian betook himself to his utmost dissimulation, and the talk of the +next few minutes—on his part, deliberately provocative; on hers, +recklessly vehement—instructed him in much that he had desired to +learn. It was made clear to him that a long combat of wills and desires +had been in progress between the crafty courtesan and the half wily and +the half brutal soldier, with a baffling of Heliodora's devices which +would never have come to his knowledge but for this outbreak of rage. +How far the woman had gone in her lures, whether she had played her +last stake, he could not even now determine; but he suspected that only +such supreme defeat could account for the fury in which he beheld her. +Bessas, having (as was evident) heard the secret from Pelagius, might +perchance have played the part of a lover vanquished by his passions, +and then, after winning his end by pretence of treachery to the +Emperor, had broken into scoffing revelation. That were a triumph after +the Thracian's heart. Having read thus far in the past, Marcian had to +turn anxious thought upon the future, for his position of seeming +security could not long continue. He bent himself to allay the wrath he +had excited. Falling of a sudden into a show of profound distress, he +kept silence for a little, then murmured bitterly: +</P> + +<P> +'I see what has happened. When the fever was upon me, my mind wandered, +and I talked.' +</P> + +<P> +So convincing was the face, the tone, so plausible the explanation, +that Heliodora drew slowly back, her fury all but quenched. She +questioned him as to the likely betrayer, and the name of Sagaris +having been mentioned, used the opportunity to learn what she could +concerning the man. +</P> + +<P> +'I cannot promise to give him up to you to be tortured,' said Marcian, +with his characteristic smile of irony. +</P> + +<P> +'That I do not ask. But,' she added significantly, 'will you send him +here, and let me use gentler ways of discovering what I can?' +</P> + +<P> +'That, willingly.' +</P> + +<P> +And when Marcian went away, he reflected that all was not yet lost. For +Heliodora still had faith in the prophecy of her astrologer; she was +more resolute than ever in her resolve to triumph over Bessas; she +could gain nothing to this end by helping her confederate's ruin. +Before parting, they had agreed that Marcian would do well to affect +ignorance of the discovery Bessas had made; time and events must +instruct them as to the projects of their enemies, and guide their own +course. +</P> + +<P> +That same day, he despatched the Syrian with a letter to Heliodora, and +on the man's return spoke with him as if carelessly of his commission. +He remarked that the face of Sagaris shone as though exultantly, but no +indiscreet word dropped from the vaunter's lips. A useful fellow, +murmured Marcian within himself, and smiled contempt. +</P> + +<P> +Another day or two of indecision, then in obedience to an impulse he +could no longer resist, he sought speech with the deacon Pelagius. Not +without trouble was this obtained, for Pelagius was at all times busy, +always beset by suitors of every degree, the Romans holding him in high +reverence, and making their appeals to him rather than to the Pope, for +whom few had a good word. When at last Marcian was admitted to the +deacon's presence, he found himself disconcerted by the long, silent +scrutiny of eyes deep read in the souls of men. No word would reach his +lips. +</P> + +<P> +'I have been expecting you,' said the deacon at length, gravely, but +without severity. 'You have made no haste to come.' +</P> + +<P> +'Most reverend,' replied Marcian, in a tone of the deepest reproach, 'I +knew not certainly whether I had indeed made confession to you, or if +it was but a dream of fever.' +</P> + +<P> +Pelagius smiled. He was standing by a table, and his hand lay upon an +open volume. +</P> + +<P> +'You are of noble blood, lord Marcian,' he continued, 'and the +greatness of your ancestors is not unknown to you. Tell me by what +motive you have been induced to play the traitor against Rome. I cannot +think it was for the gain that perishes. Rather would I suppose you +misled by the opinion of Cassiodorus, whose politics were as unsound as +his theology. I read here, in his treatise <I>De Anima</I>, that there is +neither bliss nor torment for the soul before the great Day of +Judgment—a flagrant heresy, in utter contradiction of the Scriptures, +and long ago refuted by the holy Augustine. Can you trust in worldly +matters one who is so blinded to the clearest truths of eternity?' +</P> + +<P> +'I confess,' murmured the listener, 'that I thought him justified in +his support of the Gothic kingdom.' +</P> + +<P> +'You are content, then, you whose ancestors have sat in the Senate, to +be ruled by barbarians? You, a Catholic, revolt not against the +dominions of Arians? And so little is your foresight, your speculation, +that you dream of permanent conquest of Italy by this leader of a +barbaric horde? I tell you, lord Marcian, that ere another twelvemonth +has passed, the Goths will be defeated, scattered, lost. The Emperor is +preparing a great army, and before the end of summer Belisarius will +again land on our shores. Think you Totila can stand against him? Be +warned; consider with yourself. Because your confession had indeed +something of sickness in it, I have forborne to use it against you as +another might have done. But not with impunity can you resume your +traitorous practices; of that be assured.' +</P> + +<P> +He paused, looking sternly into Marcian's face. +</P> + +<P> +'I have no leisure to debate with you, to confute your errors. One +thing only will I add, before dismissing you to ponder what I have +uttered. It is in your power to prove your return to reason and the +dignity of a Roman; I need not say how; the occasion will surely ere +long present itself, and leave you in no doubt as to my meaning. +Remember, then, how I have dealt with you; remember, also, that no such +indulgence will be granted to a renewal of your crime against Rome, +your sin against God.' +</P> + +<P> +Marcian dropped to his knees; there was a moment of silence; then he +arose and went forth. +</P> + +<P> +A week passed, and there came the festival of St. Laurentius. All Rome +streamed out to the basilica beyond the Tiburtine Gate, and among those +who prayed most fervently at the shrine was Marcian. He besought +guidance in an anguish of doubt. Not long ago, in the early days of +summer, carnal temptation had once more overcome him, and the +sufferings, the perils, of this last month he attributed to that lapse +from purity. His illness was perhaps caused by excess of rigour in +penitence. To-day he prayed with many tears that the Roman martyr would +enlighten him, and make him understand his duty to Rome. +</P> + +<P> +As he was leaving the church, a hand touched him; he turned, and beheld +the deacon Leander, who led him apart. +</P> + +<P> +'It is well that I have met you,' said the cleric, with less than his +usual bland deliberation. 'A messenger is at your house to bid you come +to me this evening. Can you leave Rome to-morrow?' +</P> + +<P> +'On what mission?' +</P> + +<P> +Leander pursed his lips for a moment, rolled his eyes hither and +thither, and said with a cautious smile: +</P> + +<P> +'That for which you have been waiting.' +</P> + +<P> +With difficulty Marcian dissembled his agitation. Was this the saint's +reply to his prayer? Or was it a temptation of the Evil Power, which it +behoved him to resist? +</P> + +<P> +'I am ready,' he said, off-hand. +</P> + +<P> +'You will be alone for the first day's journey, and in the evening you +will be met by such attendants as safety demands. Do you willingly +undertake the charge? Or is there some new danger which you had not +foreseen?' +</P> + +<P> +'There is none,' replied Marcian, 'and I undertake the charge right +willingly.' +</P> + +<P> +'Come to me, then, at sunset. The travel is planned in every detail, +and the letters ready. What follower goes with you?' +</P> + +<P> +'The same as always—Sagaris.' +</P> + +<P> +'Confide nothing to him until you are far from Rome. Better if you need +not even then.' +</P> + +<P> +Leander broke off the conference, and walked away at a step quicker +than his wont. But Marcian, after lingering awhile in troubled thought, +returned to the martyr's grave. Long he remained upon his knees, the +conflict within him so violent that he could scarce find coherent words +of prayer. Meanwhile the August sky had clouded, and thunder was +beginning to roll. As he went forth again, a flash of lightning dazzled +him. He saw that it was on the left hand, and took courage to follow +the purpose that had shaped in his thoughts. +</P> + +<P> +That evening, after an hour's close colloquy with Leander, he betook +himself by circuitous way to the dwelling of Pelagius, and with him +again held long talk. Then went home, through the dark, still streets, +to such slumber as his conscience might permit. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap19"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIX +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE PRISONER OF PRAENESTE +</H3> + +<P> +On the morrow of St. Laurentius, at that point of dawn when a man can +recognise the face of one who passes, there issued from the Lateran a +silent company equipped for travel. In a covered carriage drawn by two +horses sat the Pope, beside him a churchman of his household; a second +carriage conveyed the deacon Leander and another ecclesiastic; servants +and a baggage vehicle brought up the rear. With what speed it could +over the ill-paved roads, this procession made for the bank of the +Tiber below the Aventine, where, hard by the empty public granaries, a +ship lay ready to drop down stream. It was a flight rather than a +departure. Having at length made up his mind to obey the Emperor's +summons, Vigilius endeavoured to steal away whilst the Romans slept off +their day of festival. But he was not suffered to escape thus. Before +he had reached the place of embarkation, folk began to run shouting +behind his carriage. Ere he could set foot on board the vessel a crowd +had gathered. The farewell of the people to their supreme Pontiff was +given in a volley of stones and potsherds, whilst the air rang with +maledictions. +</P> + +<P> +Notwithstanding his secret hostility, Leander had of late crept into +Vigilius' confidence, thus protecting himself against his formidable +adversary Pelagius. He was now the Pope's travelling companion as far +as Sicily. Had he remained in Rome, the authority of Pelagius would +have fallen heavily upon him, and he could scarce have escaped the +humiliation of yielding his Gothic captive to Justinian's friend. +Apprised only a day before of Vigilius' purpose, he had barely time to +plot with Marcian for the conveyance of Veranilda to Totila's camp. +This had long been his intention, for, convinced that Totila would rule +over Italy, he saw in the favour of the king not only a personal +advantage, but the hope of the Western Church in its struggle with +Byzantium. Driven at length to act hurriedly, he persuaded himself that +he could use no better agent than Marcian, who had so deeply pledged +himself to the Gothic cause. Of what had passed between Marcian and +Pelagius he of course knew nothing. So, as the ship moved seaward upon +tawny Tiber, and day flamed upon the Alban hills, Leander laughed +within himself. He enjoyed a plot for its own sake, and a plot, long +savoured, which gave him triumph over ecclesiastical rivals, and even +over the Emperor Justinian, was well worth the little risk that might +ensue When he returned to Rome, it would doubtless be with the +victorious Goth—safe, jubilant, and ere long to be seated in the chair +of the Apostle. +</P> + +<P> +At the same hour Marcian was riding along the Praenestine Way, the +glory of summer sunrise straight before him. The thought most active in +his mind had nothing to do with the contest of nations or with the fate +of Rome: it was that on the morrow he should behold Veranilda. For a +long time he had ceased to think of her; her name came to his lips in +connection with artifice and intrigue, but the maiden herself had faded +into nothingness, no longer touched his imagination. He wondered at +that fantastic jealousy of Basil from which he had suffered. This +morning, the caress of the warm air, the scents wafted about him as he +rode over the great brown wilderness, revived his bygone mood. Again he +mused on that ideal loveliness which he attributed to the unseen +Veranilda For nearly a year she had been sought in vain by her lover, +by Greek commanders, by powerful churchmen; she had been made the +pretext of far-reaching plots and conspiracies; her name had excited +passions vehement and perilous, had been the cause of death. Now he was +at length to look upon her; nay, she was to pass into his guardianship, +and be by him delivered into the hands of the warrior king. Dreaming, +dreaming, he rode along the Praenestine Way. +</P> + +<P> +Though the personal dignity of Pelagius and the calm force of his +speech had awed and perturbed him, Marcian soon recovered his habitual +mind. He had thought and felt too deeply regarding public affairs to be +so easily converted from the cause for which he lived. A new treachery +was imposed upon him. When, after receiving all his instructions from +Leander, he went to see Pelagius, it was in order to secure his own +safety and the fulfilment of his secret mission by a seeming betrayal +of him he served. He knew that his every movement was watched; he could +not hope to leave Rome without being stopped and interrogated. If he +desired to carry out Leander's project—and he desired it the more +ardently the longer he reflected—his only course was this. Why did it +agitate him more than his treachery hitherto? Why did he shake and +perspire when he left Pelagius, after promising to bring Veranilda to +Rome? He knew not himself—unless it were due to a fear that he might +perform his promise. +</P> + +<P> +This fear it was, perhaps, which had filled his short sleep with dreams +now terrible, now luxurious. This fear it was which caught hold of him, +at length distinct and intelligible, when, on turning his head towards +the city soon after sunrise, he became aware of a group of horsemen +following him at a distance of half a mile or so. Thus had it been +agreed with Pelagius. The men were to follow him, without approaching, +to a certain point of his journey, then would close about him and his +attendants, who would be inferior in number, and carry them, with the +Gothic maiden, back to Rome. At the sight Marcian drew rein, and for a +moment sat in his saddle with bent head, suffering strangely. Sagaris +came up to his side, regarded him with anxious eye, and asked whether +the heat of the sun's rays incommoded him; whereupon he made a negative +sign and rode on. +</P> + +<P> +He tried to laugh. Had he forgotten the subtlety of his plot for +deceiving Pelagius? To have made known to the deacon where Veranilda +really was, would have been a grave fault in strategy. These armed +horsemen imagined that a two days' journey lay before them, whereas the +place of Veranildas imprisonment would be reached this evening. The +artifice he had elaborated was, to be sure, full of hazard; accident +might disconcert everything; the instruments upon whom he reckoned +might fail him. But not because of this possibility was his heart so +miserably perturbed. It was himself that he dreaded—the failure of his +own purpose, the treachery of his own will. +</P> + +<P> +On he rode in the full eye of the August sun. The vast, undulant plain +spread around him; its farms, villas, aqueducts no less eloquent of +death than the tombs by the wayside its still air and the cloudless +azure above speaking to a man's soul as with the voice of eternity. +Marcian was very sensible of such solemn influence. More than once, in +traversing this region, he had been moved to bow his head in devotion +purer than that which commonly inspired his prayers, but to-day he knew +not a moment's calm. All within him was turbid, subject to evil +thoughts. +</P> + +<P> +A little before noon he made his first halt. Amid the ruins of a +spacious villa two or three peasant families had their miserable home, +with a vineyard, a patch of tilled soil, and a flock of goats for their +sustenance. Here the travellers, sheltered from the fierce sun, ate of +the provisions they carried, and lay resting for a couple of hours. +Marcian did not speak with the peasants, but he heard the voice of a +woman loud in lamentation, and Sagaris told him that it was for the +death of a child, who, straying yesterday at nightfall, had been killed +by a wolf. Many hours had the mother wept and wailed, only interrupting +her grief to vilify and curse the saint to whose protection her little +one was confided. +</P> + +<P> +When he resumed his journey, Marcian kept glancing back until he again +caught sight of the company of horsemen; they continued to follow him +at the same distance. On he rode, the Alban hills at his right hand, +and before him, on its mountain side, the town for which he made. The +sun was yet far from setting when he reached Praeneste. Its great walls +and citadel towering on the height above told of ancient strength, and +many a noble building, within the city and without, monuments of glory +and luxury, resisted doom. Sulla's Temple of Fortune still looked down +upon its columned terraces, but behind the portico was a Christian +church, and where once abode the priests of the heathen sanctuary, the +Bishop of Praeneste had now his dwelling. Thither did Marcian +straightway betake himself. The bishop, a friend and ally of Leander, +received him with cordiality, and eagerly read the letter he brought. +Asked whether Vigilius had left Rome, Marcian was able to tell +something of the Pope's departure, having heard the story just before +his own setting forth; whereat the prelate, a man of jovial aspect, +laughed unrestrainedly. +</P> + +<P> +'To supper! to supper!' he exclaimed with hospitable note. 'Time enough +for our business afterwards.' +</P> + +<P> +But Marcian could not postpone what he had to say. Begging the bishop's +patience, he told how all day long he had been followed by certain +horsemen from Rome, who assuredly were sent to track him. His servant, +he added, was watching for their entrance into the town, and would +observe where they lodged. This, the bishop admitted, was a matter of +some gravity. +</P> + +<P> +'Your guard is ready,' he said. 'Six stout fellows on good horses. But +these pursuers outman you. Let me think, let me think.' +</P> + +<P> +Marcian had but to suggest his scheme. This was, to resume his journey +as soon as the townsfolk were all asleep, and travel through the night, +for there was a moon all but at the full. He might thus gain so much +advance of his pursuers that they would not be able to overtake him +before he came to the nearest outpost of the Gothic army. After +reflection, the bishop gave his approval to this project, and undertook +that all should be ready at the fitting hour. He himself would +accompany them to the gate of the town, and see them safely on their +way. To make surer, Marcian used another device. When he had learned +the quarters of the pursuing horsemen he sent Sagaris privily to speak +with their leader, warning him to be ready to ride at daybreak. Such a +message had of course nothing unexpected for its recipient, who looked +upon Marcian as secretly serving Pelagius. It put his mind at ease and +released him from the necessity of keeping a night watch. Sagaris, +totally ignorant of his master's mission, and of the plans that had +just been formed, imagined himself an intermediary in some plot between +Marcian and the leader of the horsemen, and performed the deceitful +office in all good faith. +</P> + +<P> +The bishop and his guest sat down to supper in an ancient room, of +which the floor was a mosaic representing an Egyptian landscape, with a +multitude of figures. Marcian would gladly have asked questions about +Veranilda; how long she had been at Praeneste, whether the lady Aurelia +was in the same convent, and many other things; but he did not venture +to make known how little he had enjoyed of Leander's confidence. His +reverend host spoke not at all on this subject, which evidently had no +interest for him, but abounded in inquiries as to the state of things +ecclesiastical at Rome. The supper was excellent; it pained the good +prelate that his guest seemed to have so poor an appetite. He vaunted +the quality of everything on the table, and was especially enthusiastic +about a wine of the south, very aromatic, which had come to him as a +present from his friend the Bishop of Rhegium, together with a certain +cheese of Sila, exquisite in thymy savour, whereof he ate with +prodigious gusto. +</P> + +<P> +It was about the third hour of the night when Sagaris, to his +astonishment, was aroused from a first sleep, and bidden prepare at +once for travel. Following his master and the bishop, who were not +otherwise attended, he passed through a garden to a postern, where, by +dim lantern light, he saw, in the street without, a small covered +carriage drawn by four mules, and behind it several men on horseback; +his master's horse and his own were also in readiness at the door. He +mounted, the carriage moved forward; and by a steep descent which +needed extreme caution, the gate of the city was soon reached. Here the +bishop, who had walked beside Marcian, spoke a word with two drowsy +watchmen sitting by the open gateway, bade his guest an affectionate +farewell, and stood watching for a few minutes whilst vehicle and +riders moved away in the moonlight. +</P> + +<P> +Finding himself well sped from Praeneste, where his pursuers lay sound +asleep, Marcian felt an extravagant joy; he could scarce command +himself to speak a few necessary words, in an ordinary tone, to the +leader of the guard with which he was provided; to shout, to sing, +would have better suited his mood. Why he thrilled with such exultancy +he could not have truly said; but a weight seemed to be lifted from his +mind, and he told himself that the relief was due to knowing that he +had done with treachery, done with double-dealing, done with the shame +and the peril of such a life as he had led for years. Never could he +return to Rome save with the Gothic King; in beguiling Pelagius, he had +thrown in his lot irrevocably with the enemies of the Greeks. Now he +would play the part of an honest man; his heart throbbed at the thought. +</P> + +<P> +But all this time his eyes were fixed upon the closed vehicle, behind +which he rode; and was it indeed the thought of having gained freedom +which made his heart so strangely beat? He pushed his horse as near as +possible to the carriage; he rode beside it; he stretched out his hand +and touched it. As soon as the nature of the road permitted, he gave an +order to make better speed, and his horse began to trot; he thought +less of the danger from which he was fleeing than of the place of rest +where Veranilda would step down from the carriage, and he would look +upon her face. +</P> + +<P> +Under the great white moon, the valley into which they were descending +lay revealed in every feature, and the road itself was as well +illumined as by daylight. On they sped, as fast as the mules could be +driven. Near or far sounded from time to time the howl of a wolf, +answered by the fierce bark of dogs in some farm or village; the +hooting of owls broke upon the stillness, or the pipe of toads from a +marshy hollow. By the wayside would be seen moving stealthily a dark +form, which the travellers knew to be a bear, but they met no human +being, nor anywhere saw the gleam of a light in human habitation. +Coming within view of some temple of the old religion, all crossed +themselves and murmured a prayer, for this was the hour when the +dethroned demons had power over the bodies and the souls of men. +</P> + +<P> +After a long descent they struck into the Via Latina, still in spite of +long neglect almost as good a road as when the legions marched over its +wheel-furrowed stones. If the information on which Leander had +calculated was correct, some three days' journey by this way would +bring them within reach of the Gothic king; but Marcian was now +debating with himself at what point he should quit the high road, so as +to make certain his escape, in case the Greek horsemen began a chase +early on the morrow. To the left lay a mountainous region, with byways +and little ancient towns, in old time the country of the Hernici; +beyond, a journey of two good days, flowed the river Liris, and there, +not far from the town of Arpinum, was Marcian's ancestral villa. Of +this he thought, as his horse trotted beside or behind the carriage. It +was much out of his way; surely there would be no need to go so far in +order to baffle pursuers. Yet still he thought of his villa, islanded +in the Liris, and seemed to hear through the night the music of +tumbling waters, and said within his heart, 'Could I not there lie +safe?' +</P> + +<P> +Safe?—from the Greeks, that is to say, if they persistently searched +for him. Safe, until a messenger could reach Totila, and let him know +that Veranilda was rescued. +</P> + +<P> +An hour after midnight, one of the mules' traces broke. In the silence +of the stoppage, whilst the driver was mending the harness as best he +could, Marcian alighted, stepped to the side of the vehicle, laid a +hand on the curtain which concealed those within, and spoke in a +subdued voice. +</P> + +<P> +'Is all well with you, lady?' +</P> + +<P> +'As well,' came the answer, 'as it can be with one who dreads her +unknown fate.' +</P> + +<P> +The soft accents made Marcian tremble. He expected to hear a sweet +voice, but this was sweeter far than he could have imagined: its +gentleness, its sadness, utterly overcame him, so that he all but wept +in his anguish of delight. +</P> + +<P> +'Have no fear,' he whispered eagerly. 'It is freedom that awaits you. I +am Marcian—Marcian, the friend of Basil.' +</P> + +<P> +There sounded a low cry of joy; then the two names were repeated, his +and that of his friend, and again Marcian quivered. +</P> + +<P> +'You will be no more afraid?' he said, as though laughingly. +</P> + +<P> +'Oh no! The Blessed Virgin be thanked!' +</P> + +<P> +An owl's long hoot wailed through the stillness, seeming to fill with +its infinite melancholy the great vault of moonlit heaven. In Marcian +it produced a sudden, unaccountable fear. Leaping on to his horse, he +cursed the driver for slowness. Another minute, and they were speeding +onward. +</P> + +<P> +Marcian watched anxiously the course of the silver orb above them. When +it began to descend seaward, the animals were showing signs of +weariness; before daybreak he must perforce call a halt. In +conversation with the leader of his guard, he told the reason of their +hasting on by night (known already to the horseman, a trusted follower +of the Bishop of Praeneste), and at length announced his resolve to +turn off the Latin Way into the mountains, with the view of gaining the +little town Aletrium, whence, he explained, they could cross the hills +to the valley of the Liris, and so descend again to the main road. It +was the man's business to obey; he let fall a few words, however, +concerning the dangers of the track; it was well known that bands of +marauders frequented this country, moving onward before the slow +advance of the Gothic troops. Marcian reflected, but none the less held +to his scheme. The beasts were urged along an upward way, which, just +about the setting of the moon, brought them to a poor village with a +little church. Marcian set himself to discover the priest, and, when +this good man was roused from slumber, spoke in his ear a word which +had great effect. With little delay stabling was found, and a place of +repose for Marcian's followers; he himself would rest under the +priest's roof, whither he conducted Veranilda and a woman servant who +sat with her in the carriage. The face which was so troubling his +imagination he did not yet see, for Veranilda kept the hood close about +her as she passed by candle light up steps to the comfortless and dirty +little chamber which was the best she could have. +</P> + +<P> +'Rest in peace,' whispered Marcian as the door closed. 'I guard you.' +</P> + +<P> +For an hour or more he sat talking with his host over a pitcher of +wine, found how far he was from Aletrium, and heard with satisfaction +that the brigand bands seemed to have gone higher into the mountains. +The presbyter asked eagerly for Roman news, and cautiously concerning +King Totila, whom it was evident he regarded with no very hostile +feeling. As the day broke he stretched himself on his host's bed, there +being no other for him, and there dozed for two or three hours, far too +agitated to enjoy a sound sleep. +</P> + +<P> +When he arose, he went forth into the already hot sunshine, looked at +the poor peasants' cottages, and talked with Sagaris, whose +half-smiling face seemed anxious to declare that he knew perfectly well +on what business they were engaged. At this hour, in all probability, +the horsemen of Pelagius were galloping along the Latin Way, in hope of +overtaking the fugitives. It seemed little likely that they would +search in this direction, and the chances were that they would turn +back when their horses got tired out. Of them, indeed, Marcian thought +but carelessly; his hard-set brows betokened another subject of +disquiet. Should he, after Aletrium, go down again to the Latin Way, or +should he push a few miles further to the valley of the Liris, and to +his own villa? +</P> + +<P> +To-day, being the first day of the week, there was a gathering to hear +mass. Marcian, though he had that in his mind which little accorded +with religious worship, felt himself drawn to the little church, and +knelt among the toil-worn folk. Here, as always when he heard the +liturgy, his heart melted, his soul was overcome with awe. From +earliest childhood he had cherished a peculiar love and reverence for +the Eucharistic prayer, which was associated with his noblest feelings, +his purest aspirations. As he heard it now, here amid the solitude of +the hills, it brought him help such as he needed. +</P> + +<P> +'Vere dignum et justum est, aequum et salutare, nos tibi semper et +ubique gratias agere, Domine sancte, Pater omnipotens, aeterne Deus.' +</P> + +<P> +When at the end he rose, these words were still resonant within him. He +turned to go forth, and there behind, also just risen from her knees, +stood a veiled woman, at the sight of whom he thrilled with +astonishment. No peasant she; for her attire, though but little +adorned, told of refinement, and the grace of her figure, the simple +dignity of her attitude, would alone have marked her out among the +girls and women who were leaving the church, their eyes all turned upon +her and on the female attendant standing respectfully near. Through the +veil which covered her face and hung about her shoulders, Marcian could +dimly discern lips and eyebrows. +</P> + +<P> +'Lord Marcian, may I speak with you?' +</P> + +<P> +It was the voice of last night, and again it shook him with an ecstasy +which had more of dread than of joy. +</P> + +<P> +'You here?' he replied, speaking very low. 'You have heard the mass?' +</P> + +<P> +'I am a Catholic. My religion is that of Basil.' +</P> + +<P> +'God be thanked!' broke from Marcian. And his exclamation meant more +than it conveyed to the listener. +</P> + +<P> +'May you tell me whither we are going?' was the next question from the +veiled lips. +</P> + +<P> +The church was now empty, but in the doorway appeared faces curiously +peering. Marcian looking in that direction seemed for a moment to find +no reply; his lips were parted, and his breath came rapidly; then he +whispered: +</P> + +<P> +'Not far from here there is a villa. There you shall rest in safety +until Basil comes.' +</P> + +<P> +'He is near?' +</P> + +<P> +'Already I have summoned him.' +</P> + +<P> +'O kind Marcian!' uttered the low, sweet voice. 'Oh, true and brave +friend!' +</P> + +<P> +In silence they walked together to the priest's house. Marcian had now +put off all irresolution. He gave orders to his guard; as soon as the +horses had sufficiently rested, they would push on for Aletrium, and +there pass the night. The start was made some two hours after noon. +Riding once more beside the carriage, Marcian felt his heart light: +passions and fears were all forgotten; the sun flaming amid the pale +blue sky, the violet shadows of the mountains, the voice of cicadas +made rapture to his senses. It was as though Veranilda's beauty, not +even yet beheld, rayed something of itself upon all the visible world. +Never had a summer's day shone so gloriously for him; never had he so +marked the hues of height and hollow, the shape of hills, the winding +of a stream. Where an ascent made the pace slow, he alighted, walked by +the vehicle, and exchanged a few words with her who sat behind the +curtain. +</P> + +<P> +At length Aletrium came in view, a little town in a strong position on +the mountain side, its walls and citadel built in old time, long unused +for defence, but resisting ages with their cyclopean force. On +arriving, they found a scene of disorder, misery and fear. This morning +the place had been attacked by a brigand horde, which had ravaged at +will: the church was robbed of its sacred vessels, the beasts of burden +were driven away, and, worst of all, wives and daughters of the +defenceless townsmen had suffered outrage. Marcian, with that air of +authority which he well knew how to assume, commanded the attendance of +the leading citizens and spoke with them in private. Finding them eager +for the arrival of the Goths, to whom they looked rather than to the +distant Greeks for protection against ruinous disorder (already they +had despatched messengers to Totila entreating his aid), he made known +to them that he was travelling to meet the Gothic outposts, and +promised to hasten the king's advance. At present, there seemed to be +no more danger, the marauders having gone on into the Apennines; so +Marcian obtained lodging for Veranilda and for himself in the priest's +house. Only when he was alone did he reflect upon the narrowness of his +escape from those fierce plunderers, and horror shook him. There +remained but half a day's journey to his villa. He was so impatient to +arrive there, and to dismiss the horsemen, that though utterly wearied, +he lay awake through many hours of darkness, hearing the footsteps of +men who patrolled the streets, and listening with anxious ear for any +sound of warning. +</P> + +<P> +He rose in the twilight, and again held conference with those of the +townsmen who were stoutest in the Gothic cause. To them he announced +that he should travel this day as far as Arpinum (whither he was +conducting a lady who desired to enter a convent hard by that city), +and thence should proceed in search of Totila, for whom, he assured his +hearers, he carried letters of summons from the leading churchmen at +Rome. This news greatly cheered the unhappy Aletrians, who had been +troubled by the thought that the Goths were heretics. If Roman +ecclesiastics closed their eyes to this obstacle, the inhabitants of a +little mountain town evidently need nurse no scruples in welcoming the +conqueror. With acclamations and good wishes, the crowd saw Marcian and +his train set forth along the road over the hills; before the sun had +shed its first beam into the westward valley, they had lost sight of +Aletrium. +</P> + +<P> +Not a word of the perils escaped had been allowed to reach Veranilda's +ear; exhausted by her journeying and her emotions, she had slept +soundly through the whole night, and this morning, when Marcian told +her how near was their destination, she laughed light-heartedly as a +child. But not yet had he looked upon her countenance. At Aletrium he +might have done so had he willed, but he withheld himself as if from a +dread temptation. +</P> + +<P> +Never had he known such tremours of cowardliness as on this ride over +the hills. He strained his eyes in every direction, and constantly +imagined an enemy where there was none. The brigands, as he found by +inquiry of labouring peasants, had not even passed this way. He would +not halt, though the heat of the sun grew terrible. At length, when +exhaustion threatened men and beasts, they surmounted a ridge, issued +from a forest of chestnut-trees, and all at once, but a little way +below them, saw the gleam of the river Liris. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap20"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XX +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE ISLAND IN THE LIRIS +</H3> + +<P> +Not yet the '<I>taciturnus amnis</I>,' which it becomes in the broad, +seaward valley far below, the Liris at this point parts into two +streams, enclosing a spacious island, and on either side of the island +leaps with sound and foam, a river kindred to the mountains which feed +its flood. Between the two cataracts, linked to the river banks with +great arched bridges, stood Marcian's villa. Never more than a modest +country house, during the last fifty years an almost total neglect had +made of the greater part an uninhabitable ruin. A score of slaves and +peasants looked after what remained of the dwelling and cultivated the +land attached to it, garden, oliveyard, vineyard, partly on the island, +partly beyond the river in the direction of Arpinum, which historic +city, now but sparsely peopled, showed on the hillside a few miles +away. Excepting his house in Rome, this was all the property that +Marcian possessed. It was dear to him because of the memories of his +childhood, and for another reason which sprang out of the depths of his +being: on the night after his mother's death (he was then a boy much +given to seeing visions) her spirit appeared to him, and foretold that +he too should die in this house 'at peace with God.' This phrase, on +which he had often brooded, Marcian understood to mean that he should +reach old age; and it had long been his settled intention to found in +the ruinous villa a little monastery, to which, when his work was over, +he could retire to pass the close of life. And now, as he rode down +behind the carriage, he was striving to keep his thought fixed on this +pious purpose. He resolved that he would not long delay. As soon as +Veranilda was safe, he would go on foot, as a pilgrim, to the monastery +at Casinum, which were but two or three days' journey, and speak of his +intention to the aged and most holy Benedict. Thus fortified, he rode +with bright visage down into the valley, and over the bridge, and so to +his own gate. +</P> + +<P> +The steward and the housekeeper, who were man and wife, speedily stood +before him, and he bade them make ready with all expedition certain +chambers long unoccupied, merely saying that a lady would for some days +be his guest. Whilst Sagaris guided the horsemen to the stables, and +received them hospitably in the servants' quarter, Marcian, using a +more formal courtesy than hitherto, conducted his charge into the great +hall, and begged her to be seated for a few minutes, until her room was +prepared. Seeing that fatigue scarce suffered her to reply, he at once +withdrew, leaving her alone with her handmaiden. And yet he had not +beheld Veranilda's face. +</P> + +<P> +Himself unable to take repose, he strayed about the purlieus of the +villa, in his ears the sound of rushing water, before his eyes a +flitting vision which he would not see. He had heard from his steward +the latest news of the countryside; it was said in Arpinum that the +Gothic forces were at length assembled for the march on Rome; at +Aquinum Totila would be welcomed, and what resistance was he likely to +meet with all along the Latin Way? When the horsemen had refreshed +themselves, Marcian summoned the leader; their services, he said, would +no longer be necessary; he bade them depart as early as might be on the +morrow, and bear with all speed to their lord the bishop an important +letter which he forthwith wrote and gave to the man, together with a +generous guerdon. This business despatched, he again wandered hither +and thither, incapable of rest, incapable of clear thought, fever in +his heart and in his brain. +</P> + +<P> +As the sun sank, fear once more beset him. This house lay open on all +sides, its only protection being a couple of dogs, which prowled at +large. He thought with dread of the possibility of a brigand attack. +But when night had fallen, when all lights except his own were +extinguished, when no sound struck against the deep monotone of the +cataracts, this emotion yielded before another, which no less harassed +his mind. In the hall, in the corridors, in the garden-court, he paced +ceaselessly, at times walking in utter darkness, for not yet had the +moon risen. When at length its rays fell upon the pillars of the upper +gallery where Veranilda slept, he stood looking towards her chamber, +and turned away at length with a wild gesture, like that of a demoniac +in torment. +</P> + +<P> +The man was torn between spiritual fervour and passions of the flesh. +With his aspiration to saintliness blended that love of his friend +which was the purest affection he had known in all the years of +manhood; yet this very love became, through evil thoughts, an +instrument against him, being sullied, poisoned by the basest spirit of +jealousy, until it seemed all but to have turned to hate. One moment he +felt himself capable of acting nobly, even as he had resolved when at +mass in the little mountain church; his bosom glowed with the defiance +of every risk; he would guard Veranilda secretly until he could lay her +hand in that of Basil. The next, he saw only danger, impossibility, in +such a purpose, and was anxious to deliver the beautiful maiden to the +king of her own race as soon as might be—lest worse befell. Thus did +he strive with himself, thus was he racked and rent under the glowing +moon. +</P> + +<P> +At dawn he slept. When he rose the horsemen had long since set forth on +their journey home. He inquired which road they had taken. But to this +no one had paid heed; he could only learn that they had crossed the +river by the westward bridge, and so perhaps had gone back by way of +Aletrium, instead of descending the valley to the Latin Way. Even yet +Marcian did not feel quite safe from his Greek pursuers. He feared a +meeting between them and the Praenestines. +</P> + +<P> +Having bathed (a luxury after waterless Rome), and eaten a morsel of +bread with a draught of his own wine, he called his housekeeper, and +bade her make known to the lady, his guest, that he begged permission +to wait upon her. With but a few minutes' delay Veranilda descended to +the room which lay behind the atrium. Marcian, loitering among the +ivied plane-trees without, was told of her coming, and at once entered. +</P> + +<P> +She was alone, standing at the back of the room; her hands hanging +linked before her, the lower part of the arms white against the folds +of a russet-coloured tunic. And Marcian beheld her face. +</P> + +<P> +He took a few rapid steps toward her, checked himself, bowed +profoundly, and said in a somewhat abrupt voice: +</P> + +<P> +'Gracious lady, is it by your own wish that you are unattended? Or have +my women, by long disuse, so forgotten their duties—' +</P> + +<P> +Veranilda interrupted him. +</P> + +<P> +'I assure you it was my own wish, lord Marcian. We must speak of things +which are not for others' hearing.' +</P> + +<P> +In the same unnatural voice, as though he put constraint upon himself +for the performance of a disagreeable duty, he begged her to be seated, +and Veranilda, not without betraying a slight trouble of surprise, took +the chair to which he pointed. But he himself did not sit down. In the +middle of the room stood a great bronze candelabrum, many-branched for +the suspension of lamps, at its base three figures, Pluto, Neptune, and +Proserpine. It was the only work of any value which the villa now +contained, and Marcian associated it with the memories of his earliest +years. As a little child he had often gazed at those three faces, awed +by their noble gravity, and, with a child's diffidence, he had never +ventured to ask what beings these were. He fixed his eyes upon them +now, to avoid looking at Veranilda. She, timidly glancing at him, said +in her soft, low voice, with the simplest sincerity: +</P> + +<P> +'I have not yet found words in which to thank you, lord Marcian.' +</P> + +<P> +'My thanks are due to you, dear lady, for gracing this poor house with +your presence.' +</P> + +<P> +His tone was more suavely courteous. For an instant he looked at her, +and his lips set themselves in something meant for a smile. +</P> + +<P> +'This is the end of our journey?' she asked. +</P> + +<P> +'For some days—if the place does not displease you.' +</P> + +<P> +'How could I be ill at ease in the house of Basil's friend, and with +the promise that Basil will soon come?' +</P> + +<P> +Marcian stared at the face of Proserpine, who seemed to regard him with +solemn thoughtfulness. +</P> + +<P> +'Had you any forewarning of your release from the monastery?' he asked +of a sudden. +</P> + +<P> +'None. None whatever.' +</P> + +<P> +'You thought you would remain there for long to come?' +</P> + +<P> +'I had not dared to think of that.' +</P> + +<P> +Marcian took a few paces, glanced at the sweet face, the beautiful head +with its long golden hair, and came back to his place by the +candelabrum, on which he rested a trembling hand. +</P> + +<P> +'Had they spoken of making you a nun?' +</P> + +<P> +A look of dread came upon her countenance, and she whispered, 'Once or +twice.' +</P> + +<P> +'You would never have consented?' +</P> + +<P> +'Only if I had known that release was hopeless, or that Basil—' +</P> + +<P> +Her voice failed. +</P> + +<P> +'That Basil—?' echoed Marcian's lips, in an undertone. +</P> + +<P> +'That he was dead.' +</P> + +<P> +'You never feared that he might have forgotten you?' +</P> + +<P> +Again his accents were so hard that Veranilda gazed at him in troubled +wonder. +</P> + +<P> +'You never feared that?' he added, with fugitive eyes. +</P> + +<P> +'Had I dreamt of it,' she replied, 'I think I should not live.' Then in +a voice of anxious humility, 'Could Basil forget me?' +</P> + +<P> +'Indeed, I should not think it easy,' murmured the other, his eyes cast +down. 'And what,' he continued abruptly, 'was said to you when you left +the convent? In what words did they take leave of you?' +</P> + +<P> +'With none at all. I was bidden prepare for a journey, and soon after +they led me to the gates. I knew nothing, nor did the woman with me.' +</P> + +<P> +'Was the lady Aurelia in the same convent?' Marcian next inquired. +</P> + +<P> +'I never saw her after we had landed from the ship which carried us +from Surrentum?' +</P> + +<P> +'You do not know, of course, that Petronilla is dead?' +</P> + +<P> +He told her of that, and of other events such as would interest her, +but without uttering the name of Basil. Above all, he spoke of Totila, +lauding the victorious king who would soon complete his triumph by the +conquest of Rome. +</P> + +<P> +'I had all but forgotten,' were Veranilda's words, when she had +listened anxiously. 'I thought only of Basil.' +</P> + +<P> +He turned abruptly from her, seemed to reflect for a moment, and said +with formal politeness: +</P> + +<P> +'Permit me now to leave you, lady. This house is yours. I would it +offered you worthier accommodation. As soon as I have news, I will +again come before you.' +</P> + +<P> +Veranilda rose whilst he was speaking. Her eyes were fixed upon him, +wistfully, almost pleadingly, and before he had reached the exit she +advanced a step, with lips parted as if to beseech his delay. But he +walked too hurriedly, and was gone ere she durst utter a word. +</P> + +<P> +At the same hurried pace, gazing before him and seeing nothing, Marcian +left the villa, and walked until he came to the river side. Here was a +jutting rock known as the Lover's Leap; story told of a noble maiden, +frenzied by unhappy love, who had cast herself into the roaring +waterfall. Long he stood on the brink, till his eyes dazzled from the +sun-stricken foam. His mind was blasted with shame; he could not hold +his head erect. In sorry effort to recover self-respect he reasoned +inwardly thus: +</P> + +<P> +'Where Basil may be I know not. If he is still at Asculum many days +must pass before a summons from me could bring him hither. He may +already be on his way to join the king, as I bade him in my last +message. The uncertainty, the danger of this situation, can be met only +in one way. On leaving Rome I saw my duty plain before me. A desire to +pleasure my friend made me waver, but I was wrong—if Basil is to have +Veranilda for his bride he can only receive her from the hands of +Totila. Anything else would mean peril to the friend I love, and +disrespect, even treachery, to the king I honour. And so it shall be; I +will torment myself no more.' +</P> + +<P> +He hastened back into the villa, summoned Sagaris, and bade him be +ready in half an hour to set forth on a journey of a day or two. He +then wrote a brief letter to the king of the Goths. It was in the +Gothic tongue, such Gothic as a few Romans could command for everyday +use. Herein he told that Veranilda, intrusted to him by the deacon +Leander to be conducted to the king's camp, had arrived in safety at +his villa by Arpinum. The country being disturbed, he had thought +better to wait here with his charge until he could learn the king's +pleasure, which he begged might be made known to him as soon as +possible. +</P> + +<P> +'This,' he said, when Sagaris appeared before him equipped for travel, +'you will deliver into the king's own hands. At Aquinum you will be +directed to his camp, which cannot be far beyond. Danger there is none +between here and there. Make your utmost speed.' +</P> + +<P> +Many were the confidential missions which Sagaris had discharged; yet, +looking now into his man's face, the master was troubled by a sudden +misgiving. The state of his own mind disposed him to see peril +everywhere. At another time he would not have noted so curiously a sort +of gleam in the Syrian's eye, a something on the fellow's cunning, +sensual lips, which might mean anything or nothing. Did Sagaris divine +who the veiled lady was? From the bishop's man he could not have +learned it, they themselves, as the bishop had assured Marcian, being +totally ignorant in the matter. If he guessed the truth, as was likely +enough after all the talk he had heard concerning Veranilda, was it a +danger? Had Sagaris any motive for treachery? +</P> + +<P> +'Listen,' continued Marcian, in a tone such as he had never before used +with his servant, a tone rather of entreaty than of command. 'Upon the +safe and swift delivery of that letter more depends than you can +imagine. You will not lack your reward. But not a word to any save the +king. Should any one else question you, you will say that you bear only +a verbal message, and that you come direct from Rome.' +</P> + +<P> +'My lord shall be obeyed,' answered the slave, 'though I die under +torture.' +</P> + +<P> +'Of that,' said Marcian, with a forced laugh, 'you need have no fear. +But, hark you!' He hesitated, again searching the man's countenance. +'You might chance to meet some friend of mine who would inquire after +me. No matter who it be—were it even the lord Basil—you will answer +in the same words, saying that I am still in Rome. You understand me? +Were it even lord Basil who asked?' +</P> + +<P> +'It shall be as my lord commands,' replied the slave, his face set in +unctuous solemnity. +</P> + +<P> +'Go, then. Lose not a moment.' +</P> + +<P> +Marcian watched him ride away in the blaze of the cloudless sun. The +man's head was sheltered with a broad-brimmed hat of the lightest felt, +and his horse's with a cluster of vine-leaves. He rode away at a quick +trot, the while dust rising in a cloud behind him. +</P> + +<P> +And Marcian lived through the day he knew not how. It was a day of +burning sunshine, of heat scarce tolerable even in places the most +sheltered. Clad only in a loose tunic, bare-armed, bare-footed, he lay +or sauntered wherever shade was dense, as far as possible from the part +of the villa consecrated to his guest. Hour after hour crawled by, an +eternity of distressful idleness. And, even while wishing for the day's +end, he dreaded the coming of the night. +</P> + +<P> +It came; the silent, lonely night, the warm, perfumed night, the season +of fierce temptations, of dreadful opportunity. Never had the +passionate soul of Marcian been so manifestly lured by the Evil One, +never had it fought so desperately in the strength of religious hopes +and fears. He knelt, he prayed, his voice breaking upon the stillness +with anguish of supplication. Between him and the celestial vision rose +that face which he had at length beheld, a face only the more +provocative of sensual rage because of its sweet purity, its flawless +truth. Then he flung himself upon the stones, bruised his limbs, lay at +length exhausted, as if lifeless. +</P> + +<P> +No longer could he strengthen himself by the thought of loyalty in +friendship; that he had renounced. Yet he strove to think of Basil, +and, in doing so, knew that he still loved him. For Basil he would do +anything, suffer anything, lose anything; but when he imaged Basil with +Veranilda, at once his love turned to spleen, a sullen madness +possessed him, he hated his friend to the death. +</P> + +<P> +By his own order, two watchmen stood below the stairs which led to +Veranilda's chamber. Nigh upon midnight he walked in that direction, +walked in barefooted stealth, listening for a movement, a voice. Nearer +and nearer he approached, till he saw at length the ray of a lantern; +but no step, no murmur, told of wakeful guard. Trembling as though with +cold, though sweat streamed over his body, he strode forward; there, +propped against the wall, sat the two slaves fast asleep. Marcian +glanced at the stairs; his face in the dim lantern light was that of a +devil. All of a sudden one of the men started, and opened his eyes. +Thereupon Marcian caught up a staff that lay beside them, and began to +belabour them both with savage blows. Fiercely, frantically, he plied +his weapon, until the delinquents, who had fallen to their knees before +him, roared for mercy. +</P> + +<P> +'Let me find you sleeping again,' he said in a low voice, 'and your +eyes shall be burnt out.' +</P> + +<P> +He stole away into the darkness, and the men whispered to each other +that he had gone mad. For Marcian was notably humane with his slaves, +never having been known even to inflict a whipping. Perhaps they were +even more astonished at this proof that their master seriously guarded +the privacy of his guest; last night they had slept for long hours +undisturbed, and, on waking, congratulated each other with familiar +jests on having done just what was expected of them. +</P> + +<P> +The morn broke dark and stormy. Thunder-clouds purpled before the +rising sun, and ere mid-day there fell torrents of rain. Heedless of +the sky, Marcian rode forth this morning; rode aimlessly about the +hills, for the villa was no longer endurable to him. He talked awhile +with a labouring serf, who told him that the plague had broken out in +Arpinum, where, during the last week or two, many had died. From his +steward he had already heard the same news, but without heeding it; it +now alarmed him, and for some hours fear had a wholesome effect upon +his thoughts. In the coolness following upon the storm, he enjoyed a +long, tranquil sleep. And this day he did not see Veranilda. +</P> + +<P> +A mile or two down the valley was a church, built by Marcian's +grandfather, on a spot where he had been saved from great peril; the +land attached to it supported two priests and certain acolytes, +together with a little colony of serfs. On his ride this morning +Marcian had passed within view of the church, and would have gone +thither but for his rain drenched clothing. Now, during the second +night of temptation, he resolved to visit the priests as soon as it was +day and to bring one of them back with him to the villa, to remain as +long as Veranilda should be there. Firm in this purpose he rose with +the rising sun, called for his horse, and rode to the bridge. There, +looking down at the white cataract, stood Veranilda and her attendant. +</P> + +<P> +He alighted. With a timid smile the maiden advanced to meet him. +</P> + +<P> +'Abroad so early?' were his first words, a mere tongue-found phrase. +</P> + +<P> +'I was tempted by the fresh morning. It does not displease you, lord +Marcian?' +</P> + +<P> +'Nay, I am glad.' +</P> + +<P> +'It is so long,' continued the gentle voice, 'since I was free to walk +under the open sky.' +</P> + +<P> +Marcian forgot that his gaze was fixed upon her, forgot that he was +silent, forgot the purpose with which he had ridden forth. +</P> + +<P> +'I hoped I might see you to-day,' she added. 'You have yet no news for +me?' +</P> + +<P> +'None.' +</P> + +<P> +The blue eyes drooped sadly. +</P> + +<P> +'To-morrow, perhaps,' she murmured. Then, with an effort to seem +cheerful, as if ashamed of her troubled thought, 'I had listened so +long to a sound of falling water that I could not resist the desire to +see it. How beautiful it is!' +</P> + +<P> +Marcian felt surprise; he himself saw the cataract as an object of +beauty, but had seldom heard it so spoken of, and could least of all +have expected such words on the lips of a woman, dread seeming to him +the more natural impression. +</P> + +<P> +'That on the other side,' he said, pointing across the island, 'is more +beautiful still. And there is shade, whilst here the sun grows too hot. +But you must not walk so far. My horse has a very even pace. If you +would let me lift you to the saddle—' +</P> + +<P> +'Oh, gladly!' she answered, with a little laugh of pleasure. +</P> + +<P> +And it was done. For a moment he held her, for a moment felt the warmth +and softness of her flesh; then she sat sideways upon the horse, +looking down at Marcian with startled gaiety. He showed her how to hold +the reins, and the horse went gently forward. +</P> + +<P> +'It makes me a child again,' she exclaimed. 'I have never ridden since +I was a little girl, when my father—' +</P> + +<P> +Her voice died away; her look was averted, and Marcian, remembering the +shame that mingled with her memories, began to talk of other things. +</P> + +<P> +By a path that circled the villa, they came to a little wood of ilex, +which shadowed the brink of the larger cataract. Marcian had bidden +Veranilda's woman follow them, but as they entered the wood, his +companion looking eagerly before her, he turned and made a gesture of +dismissal, which the servant at once obeyed. In the shadiest spot which +offered a view of the plunging river, he asked Veranilda if she would +alight. +</P> + +<P> +'Willingly, I would spend an hour here,' she replied. 'The leafage and +the water make such a delightful freshness.' +</P> + +<P> +'I have anticipated your thought,' said Marcian. 'The woman is gone to +bid them bring seats.' +</P> + +<P> +Veranilda glanced back in surprise and saw that they were alone. She +thanked him winsomely, and then, simply as before, accepted his help. +Again Marcian held her an instant, her slim, light body trembling when +he set her down, as if from a burden which strained his utmost force. +She stepped forward to gaze at the fall. He, with an exclamation of +alarm, caught her hand and held it. +</P> + +<P> +'You are too rash,' he said in a thick voice. 'The depth, the roar of +the waters, will daze you.' +</P> + +<P> +Against his burning palm, her hand was cool as a lily leaf. He did not +release it, though he knew that <I>his</I> peril from that maidenly touch +was greater far than hers from the gulf before them. Veranilda, +accepting his protection with the thoughtlessness of a child, leaned +forward, uttering her wonder and her admiration. He, the while, watched +her lips, fed his eyes upon her cheek, her neck, the golden ripples of +her hair. At length she gently offered to draw her hand away. A frenzy +urged him to resist, but madness yielded to cunning, and he released +her. +</P> + +<P> +'Of course Basil has been here,' she was saying. +</P> + +<P> +'Never.' +</P> + +<P> +'Never? Oh, the joy of showing him this when he comes! Lord Marcian, +you do not think it will be long?' +</P> + +<P> +Her eyes seemed as though they would read in the depth of his; again +the look of troubled wonder rose to her countenance. +</P> + +<P> +'It will not be more than a few days?' she added, in a timid undertone, +scarce audible upon the water's deeper note. +</P> + +<P> +'I fear it may be longer,' replied Marcian. +</P> + +<P> +He heard his own accents as those of another man. He, his very self, +willed the utterance of certain words, kind, hopeful, honest; but +something else within him commanded his tongue, and, ere he knew it, he +had added: +</P> + +<P> +'You have never thought that Basil might forget you?' +</P> + +<P> +Veranilda quivered as though she had been struck. +</P> + +<P> +'Why do you again ask me that question?' she said gently, but no longer +timidly. 'Why do you look at me so? Surely,' her voice sank, 'you could +not have let me feel so happy if Basil were dead?' +</P> + +<P> +'He lives.' +</P> + +<P> +'Then why do you look so strangely at me? Ah, he is a prisoner?' +</P> + +<P> +'Not so. No man's liberty is less in danger.' +</P> + +<P> +She clasped her hands before her. 'You make me suffer. I was so light +of heart, and now—your eyes, your silence. Oh, speak, lord Marcian!' +</P> + +<P> +'I have hidden the truth so long because I knew not how to utter it. +Veranilda, Basil is false to you.' +</P> + +<P> +Her hands fell; her eyes grew wider in wonder. She seemed not to +understand what she had heard, and to be troubled by incomprehension +rather than by a shock of pain. +</P> + +<P> +'False to me?' she murmured. 'How false?' +</P> + +<P> +'He loves another woman, and for her sake has turned to the Greeks.' +</P> + +<P> +Still Veranilda gazed wonderingly. +</P> + +<P> +'Things have come to pass of which you know nothing,' pursued Marcian, +forcing his voice to a subdued evenness, a sad gravity. 'Listen whilst +I tell you all. Had you remained but a few days longer at Cumae, you +would have been seized by the Greeks and sent to Constantinople; for +the Emperor Justinian himself had given this command. You came to +Surrentum; you plighted troth with Basil; he would have wedded you, +and—not only for safety's sake, but because he wished well to the +Goths—would have sought the friendship of Totila. But you were carried +away; vainly we searched for you; we feared you had been delivered to +the Greeks. In Rome, Basil was tempted by a woman, whom he had loved +before ever he saw you, a woman beautiful, but evil hearted, her name +Heliodora. She won him back to her; she made him faithless to you and +to the cause of the Goths. Little by little, I learnt how far he had +gone in treachery. He had discovered where you were, but no longer +desired to release you that you might become his wife. To satisfy the +jealousy of Heliodora, and at the same time to please the Greek +commander in Rome, he plotted to convey you to Constantinople. I having +discovered this plot, found a way to defeat it. You escaped but +narrowly. When I carried you away from Praeneste, pursuers were close +behind us, therefore it was that we travelled through the night. Here +you are in safety, for King Totila is close at hand, and will guard you +against your enemies.' +</P> + +<P> +Veranilda pressed her hands upon her forehead, and stood mute. As his +eyes shifted furtively about her, Marcian caught sight of something +black and undulant stirring among stones near her feet; at once he +grasped her by the arm, and drew her towards him. +</P> + +<P> +'A viper!' he exclaimed, pointing. +</P> + +<P> +'What of that?' was her reply, with a careless glance. 'I would not +stir a step to escape its fangs.' +</P> + +<P> +And, burying her face in her hands, she wept. +</P> + +<P> +These tears, this attitude of bewildered grief, were Marcian's +encouragement. He had dreaded the innocence of her eyes lest it should +turn to distrust and rejection. Had she refused to believe him, he knew +not how he would have persisted in his villainy; for, even in +concluding his story, it seemed to him that he must betray himself; so +perfidious sounded to him the voice which he could hardly believe his +own, and so slinking-knavish did he feel the posture of his body, the +movements of his limbs. The distress which should have smitten him to +the heart restored his baser courage. Again he spoke with the sad +gravity of a sympathetic friend. +</P> + +<P> +'Dearest lady, I cannot bid you be comforted, but I entreat you to +pardon me, the hapless revealer of your misfortune. Say only that you +forgive me.' +</P> + +<P> +'What is there to forgive?' she answered, checking her all but silent +sobs. 'You have told what it behoved you to tell. And it may be'—her +look changed of a sudden—'that I am too hasty in embracing sorrow. How +can I believe that Basil has done this? Are you not misled by some +false suspicion? Has not some enemy slandered him to you? What can you +say to make me credit a thing so evil?' +</P> + +<P> +'Alas! It were but too easy for me to lengthen a tale which all but +choked me in the telling; I could name others who know, but to you they +would be only names. That of Heliodora, had you lived in Rome, were +more than enough.' +</P> + +<P> +'You say he loved her before?' +</P> + +<P> +'He did, dear lady, and when her husband was yet living. Now that he is +dead—' +</P> + +<P> +'Have you yet told me all?' asked Veranilda, gazing fixedly at him. +'Has he married her?' +</P> + +<P> +'Not yet—I think.' +</P> + +<P> +Again she bowed her head. For a moment her tears fell silently, then +she looked up once more fighting against her anguish. +</P> + +<P> +'It cannot be true that he would have given me to the Greeks; that he +may have forgotten me, that he may have turned to another love, I can +perhaps believe—for what am I that Basil should love me? But to scheme +my injury, to deliver me to our enemies—Oh, you are deceived, you are +deceived!' +</P> + +<P> +Marcian was silent, with eyes cast down. In the branches, cicadas +trilled their monotone. The viper, which had been startled away, again +showed its lithe blackness among the stones behind Veranilda, and +Marcian, catching sight of it, again touched her arm. +</P> + +<P> +'The snake! Come away from this place.' +</P> + +<P> +Veranilda drew her arm back as if his touch stung her. +</P> + +<P> +'I will go,' she said. 'I must be alone—my thoughts are in such +confusion I know not what I say.' +</P> + +<P> +'Say but one word,' he pleaded. 'Having rescued you, I knew not how to +provide for your security save under ward of the king. Totila is noble +and merciful; all Italy will soon be his, and the Gothic rule be +re-established. Assure me that I have done well and wisely.' +</P> + +<P> +'I hope you have,' answered Veranilda, regarding him for an instant. +'But I know nothing; I must bear what befalls. Let me go to my chamber, +lord Marcian, and sit alone and think.' +</P> + +<P> +He led her back into the villa, and they parted without another word. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap21"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXI +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE BETRAYER BETRAYED +</H3> + +<P> +Sagaris, making his best speed, soon arrived at Aquinum. He and his +horse were bathed in sweat; the shelter of an inn, where he had dinner, +tempted him to linger more than he need have done, and the fierce sun +was already declining when he rode forth along the Latin Way. As yet he +had seen no Goths. Every one talked of Totila, but he had a difficulty +in ascertaining where at this moment the king was to be found; some +declared he was as near as Venafrum, others that he lay much further +down the valley of the Vulturnus. Arrived at Venafrum, the messenger +learnt that he could not have less than another whole day's journey +before him, so here be harboured for the night. +</P> + +<P> +His wily and unscrupulous mind had all day long been busy with +speculations as to the errand on which he was sent. Knowing that his +master wrote to Goths in the Gothic tongue, he was spared temptation to +break open the letter he carried; otherwise he would assuredly have +done so, for the hatred which Sagaris naturally felt for any one in +authority over him was now envenomed by jealousy, and for the last +month or two he had only waited an opportunity of injuring Marcian and +of advancing, by the same stroke, his own fortunes. +</P> + +<P> +Having started from Rome in ignorance of his master's purpose, the +events of the night at Praeneste at once suggested to him the name of +the person who was being so cautiously and hurriedly conveyed under +Marcian's guard, and by the end of the journey he had no doubt left. +Here, at last, was the Gothic maiden who had been sought so +persistently by Marcian, by Basil, by Bessas, by Heliodora, and +doubtless by many others, since her disappearance from Surrentum. +Whither was she now being conducted? Sagaris did not know that among +her seekers was King Totila himself; on the other hand, he had much +reason for suspecting that Marcian pursued Veranilda with a lover's +passion, and when the journey ended at the island villa, when the +convoy of horsemen was dismissed, when he himself was sent off to a +distance, he saw his suspicion confirmed. By some supreme subtlety, +Marcian had got the beautiful maiden into his power, and doubtless the +letter he was sending to Totila contained some device for the +concealing of what had happened. +</P> + +<P> +Now to the Syrian this would have been a matter of indifference, but +for his secret communications with Heliodora and all that had resulted +therefrom. Heliodora's talk was of three persons—of Marcian, of Basil, +of Veranilda—and Sagaris, reasoning from all the gossip he had heard, +and from all he certainly knew, concluded that the Greek lady had once +loved Basil, but did so no more, that her love had turned to Marcian, +and that she either knew or suspected Marcian to be a rival of Basil +for the love of Veranilda. Thus had matters stood (he persuaded +himself) until his own entrance on the scene. That a woman might look +with ardent eyes on more than one man in the same moment, seemed to +Sagaris the simplest of facts; he consequently found it easy to believe +that, even whilst loving Marcian, Heliodora should have conceived a +tenderness for Marcian's slave. That Heliodora's professions might be +mere trickery, he never imagined; his vanity forbade it; at each +successive meeting he seemed to himself to have strengthened his hold +upon the luxurious woman; each time he came away with a fiercer hatred +of Marcian, and a deeper resolve to ruin him. True, as yet, he had fed +only on promises, but being the man he was, he could attribute to +Heliodora a selfish interest in combination with a lover's desire; what +more intelligible than that she should use him to the utmost against +those she hated, postponing his reward until he had rendered her +substantial service? Thus did Sagaris feel and reason, whilst riding +along the Latin Way. His difficulty was to decide how he should act at +this juncture; how, with greatest profit to himself, he could do most +scathe to Marcian. +</P> + +<P> +Was his master serving the Greeks or the Goths? Uncertainty on this +point had long troubled his meditations, and was now a cause of grave +embarrassment. Eager to betray, he could not be sure to which side +betrayal should direct itself. On the whole he himself favoured Totila, +feeling sure that the Goth would bring the war to a triumphant end; and +on this account he was disposed to do his errand faithfully. If the +king interrogated him, he could draw conclusions from the questions +asked, and could answer as seemed best for his own ends. So he decided +to push on, and, despite the storm which broke on this second morning, +he rode out from Venafrum. +</P> + +<P> +A few hours' travel, and, drenched with the furious rain, he came to +Aesernia. This town stood in a strong position on an isolated hill; its +massive walls yet compassed it about. On arriving at the gate he found +himself unexpectedly challenged by armed men, who, though Italians, he +at once suspected to be in the Gothic service. A moment's hesitancy in +replying to the questions, 'Whence?' and 'Whither?' sufficed to put him +under arrest. He was led to the captain, in whom with relief he +recognised Venantius of Nuceria. His doubts being at an end, for he +knew that this Roman noble had long since openly joined Totila, he +begged that Venantius would hear him in private, and this being +granted, began by telling in whose service he was. +</P> + +<P> +'I thought I somehow remembered your face,' said the captain, whose +look seemed to add that the face did not particularly please him. 'And +where is the lord Marcian?' +</P> + +<P> +'In Rome, Illustrious.' +</P> + +<P> +'You have come straight from Rome, then?' +</P> + +<P> +The answer was affirmative and boldly given. +</P> + +<P> +'And whither are you bound? On what business?' +</P> + +<P> +Sagaris, still obeying his master's injunctions, declared that he +carried a verbal message to the King of the Goths, and for him alone. +Having reflected for a moment, Venantius called the soldier who stood +without the door. +</P> + +<P> +'See to the wants of this messenger. Treat him hospitably, and bring +him hither again in an hour's time.' +</P> + +<P> +The captain then walked to a house close by, where, admitted to the +atrium, he was at once met by an elderly lady, who bent respectfully +before him. +</P> + +<P> +'Has the traveller yet risen?' he began by asking. +</P> + +<P> +'Not yet, my lord. A little while ago his servant told me that he was +still sleeping.' +</P> + +<P> +'Good; he will recover from his fatigue. But pray inquire whether he is +now awake, for I would speak with him as soon as may be.' +</P> + +<P> +The lady was absent for a minute or two, then brought word that the +traveller had just awoke. +</P> + +<P> +'I will go to his bedside,' said Venantius. +</P> + +<P> +He was led to an upper chamber, a small, bare, tiled-floored room, +lighted by a foot-square window, on which the shutter was half closed +against the rays of the sun. Some aromatic odour hung in the air. +</P> + +<P> +'Do you feel able to talk?' asked the captain as he entered. +</P> + +<P> +'I am quite restored,' was the reply of a man sitting up in the bed. +'The fever has passed.' +</P> + +<P> +'So much for the wisdom of physicians!' exclaimed Venantius with a +laugh. 'That owl-eyed Aesernian who swears by Aesculapius that he has +studied at Constantinople, Antioch, and I know not where else, +whispered to me that you would never behold to-day's sunset. I +whispered to <I>him</I> that he was an ass, and that if he uttered the word +<I>plague</I> to any one in the house, I would cut his ears off. +Nevertheless, I had you put into this out-of-the-way room, that you +might not be disturbed by noises. Who'—he sniffed—'has been burning +perfumes?' +</P> + +<P> +'My good fellow Felix. Though travel-worn and wounded, he has sat by me +all the time, and would only go to bed when I woke up with a cool +forehead.' +</P> + +<P> +'A good fellow, indeed. His face spells honesty. I can't say so much +for that of a man I have just been talking with—a messenger of your +friend Marcian.' +</P> + +<P> +The listener started as though he would leap out of bed. A rush of +colour to his cheeks banished the heavy, wan aspect which had partly +disguised him, and restored the comely visage of Basil. A messenger +from Marcian? he exclaimed. With news for <I>him</I>? And, as if expecting a +letter, he stretched forth his hand eagerly. +</P> + +<P> +'He has nothing, that I know of, for you,' said the captain. 'If he +tells the truth, he is charged with a message for the king.' +</P> + +<P> +'Is it Sagaris—a Syrian slave?' +</P> + +<P> +'A Syrian, by his looks; one I remember to have seen with Marcian a +year ago.' +</P> + +<P> +'Sagaris, to be sure. Then you can trust him. He has the eye of his +race, and is a prating braggart, but Marcian has found him honest. I +must see him, Venantius. Will you send him to me, dear lord?' +</P> + +<P> +Venantius had seated himself on a chair that was beside the bed; he +wore a dubious look, and, before speaking again, glanced keenly at +Basil. +</P> + +<P> +'Did you not expect,' he asked, 'to meet Marcian in the king's camp?' +</P> + +<P> +'My last news from him bade me go thither as fast as I could, as he +himself was leaving Rome to join the king. I should have gone a little +out of my road to visit his villa near Arpinum, on the chance of +hearing news of him there; but our encounter with the marauders drove +me too far away.' +</P> + +<P> +'So much,' said Venantius, 'I gathered from your talk last night, when +you were not quite so clear-headed as you are now. What I want to +discover is whether this Syrian has lied to me. He declares that he +left Marcian in Rome. Now it happens that some of our men, who were +sent for a certain purpose, yesterday, along the Latin Way, came across +half a dozen horsemen, riding westward, and as their duty was, learnt +all they could from them. These six fellows declared themselves +servants of the bishop of Praeneste, and said that they had just been +convoying a Roman noble and a lady to a villa not far from Arpinum. And +the noble's name—they had it, said they, from his own servants at the +villa, where they had passed a night—was Marcian.' +</P> + +<P> +Basil stared; he had gone pale again and haggard. +</P> + +<P> +'What lady was with him?' he asked, under his breath. +</P> + +<P> +'That I cannot tell you. The bishop's men knew nothing about her, and +had not seen her face. But'—Venantius smiled—'they left her safely +housed with our friend Marcian. How comes this Syrian to say that his +master is at Rome? Does he lie? Or did the horsemen lie? Or are there, +perchance, two Marcians?' +</P> + +<P> +'I must speak with him,' said Basil. 'Leave me to find out the truth +for you. Send Sagaris here, Venantius, I entreat you.' +</P> + +<P> +The captain appeared to hesitate, but, on Basil's beseeching him not to +delay, he agreed and left the room. As soon as he was alone, Basil +sprang up and dressed. He was aching from head to foot, and a parched +mouth, a hot hand, told of fever in his blood. On receipt of Marcian's +last letter, he had not delayed a day before setting forth; all was in +readiness for such a summons, and thirty well-mounted, well-armed men, +chosen from the slaves and freedmen on his Asculan estate in Picenum, +rode after him to join the King of the Goths. The journey was rapidly +performed; already they were descending the lower slopes of the +westward Apennine, when they had the ill-luck to fall in with that same +band of marauders which Marcian so narrowly escaped. Basil's first +thought was that the mounted troop coming towards him might hem the +Gothic service, but this hope was soon dispelled. Advancing with fierce +threats, the robbers commanded him and his men to alight, their chief +desire being no doubt to seize the horses and arms. Though outnumbered, +Basil shouted defiance; a conflict began, and so stout was the +resistance they met that, after several had fallen on either side, the +brigands drew off. Not, however, in final retreat; galloping on in hope +of succour, Basil found himself pursued, again lost two or three men, +and only with the utmost difficulty got clear away. +</P> + +<P> +It was the young Roman's first experience of combat. For this he had +been preparing himself during the past months, exercising his body and +striving to invigorate his mind, little apt for warlike enterprise. +When the trial came, his courage did not fail, but the violent emotions +of that day left him so exhausted, so shaken in nerve, that he could +scarce continue his journey. He had come out of the fight unwounded, +but at nightfall fever fell upon him, and he found no rest. The loss of +some half dozen men grieved him to the heart; had the brave fellows +fallen in battle with the Greeks, he would have thought less of it; to +see them slain, or captured, by mere brigands was more than he could +bear. When at length he reached Aesernia, and there unexpectedly met +with Venantius, he fell from his horse like a dying man. A draught +given by the physician sent him to sleep, and from the second hour +after sunset until nearly noon of to-day he had lain unconscious. +</P> + +<P> +What he now learnt from Venantius swept into oblivion all that he had +undergone. If it were true that Marcian had travelled in this direction +with a lady under his guard, Basil could not doubt for a moment who +that lady was. The jest of Venantius did not touch him, for Venantius +spoke, it was evident, without a thought of Veranilda, perhaps had +forgotten her existence; not the faintest tremor of uneasiness stirred +in Basil's mind when he imagined Veranilda at his friend's house; +Marcian had discovered her, had rescued her, had brought her thither to +rest in safety till her lover could join them—brave Marcian, truest of +friends! For this had he sent the summons southward, perhaps not daring +to speak more plainly in a letter, perhaps not being yet quite sure of +success. This had he so often promised—O gallant Marcian! +</P> + +<P> +Quivering with eagerness, he stood at the door of his chamber. +Footsteps sounded; there appeared a slave of the house, and behind him +that dark, handsome visage which he was expecting. +</P> + +<P> +'Sagaris! My good Sagaris!' he cried joyously. +</P> + +<P> +The Syrian knelt before him and kissed his hand, but uttered no word. +At sight of Basil, for which he was not at all prepared, Sagaris felt a +happy shock; he now saw his way before him, and had no more anxiety. +But, on rising from the obeisance, he let his head drop; his eyes +wandered: one would have said that he shrank from observation. +</P> + +<P> +'Speak low,' said Basil, standing by the open door so as to guard +against eavesdropping. 'What message have you for me?' +</P> + +<P> +Sagaris replied that he had none. +</P> + +<P> +'None? Your lord charged you with nothing for me in case you should +meet me on your way?' +</P> + +<P> +Again Sagaris murmured a negative, and this time with so manifest an +air of confusion that Basil stared at him, suspicious, angry. +</P> + +<P> +'What do you mean? What are you keeping from me?' +</P> + +<P> +The man appeared to stammer incoherencies. +</P> + +<P> +'Listen,' said Basil in a low, friendly voice. 'You know very well that +the lord Marcian has no secrets from me. With me you can speak in +entire confidence. What has come to you, man? Tell me—did your lord +leave Rome before or after you?' +</P> + +<P> +'At the same time.' +</P> + +<P> +No sooner had this reply fallen from his lips than Sagaris seemed +stricken with alarm. He entreated pardon, declared he knew not what he +was saying, that he was dazed by the weariness of travel. +</P> + +<P> +'I should have said—neither before nor after. My lord remains in the +city. I was to return with all speed.' +</P> + +<P> +'He remains in the city?' +</P> + +<P> +Basil reflected. It was possible that Marcian had either purposely +concealed his journey from this slave, and had suddenly found himself +able to set forth just after Sagaris had started. +</P> + +<P> +'You bear a letter for the king?' he asked. +</P> + +<P> +'A letter, Illustrious,' answered the slave, speaking very low. +</P> + +<P> +'Ah, a letter?' +</P> + +<P> +Sagaris went on to say that he had kept this a secret from Venantius, +his master having bidden him speak of it to no one and deliver it into +the king's own hand. +</P> + +<P> +'It is in the Gothic tongue,' he added, his head bent, his look more +furtive than ever; 'and so urgent that I have scarce rested an hour +since leaving the villa.' +</P> + +<P> +A terrible light flashed into Basil's eyes. Then he sprang at the +speaker, caught him by the throat, forced him to his knees. +</P> + +<P> +'Scoundrel, you dare to lie to me! So you started from the villa and +not from Rome?' +</P> + +<P> +Sagaris cried out for mercy, grovelled on the floor. He would tell +everything; but he implored Basil to keep the secret, for, did his +master learn what had happened, his punishment would be terrible. +</P> + +<P> +'Fool!' cried Basil fiercely. 'How come you to have forgotten all at +once that I am your lord's chosen friend, and that everything +concerning him is safe with me. In very deed, I think you have ridden +too hard in the sun; your brains must have frizzled. Blockhead! If in +haste, the lord Marcian did not speak of me, he took it for granted +that, should you meet me—' +</P> + +<P> +Something so like a malicious smile flitted over the slave's +countenance that in extremity of wrath he became mute. +</P> + +<P> +'Your Nobility is deceived,' said Sagaris, in the same moment. 'My lord +expressly forbade me to tell you the truth, should I see you on my +journey.' +</P> + +<P> +Basil stared at him. +</P> + +<P> +'I swear by the holy Cross,' exclaimed the other, 'that this is true. +And if I did not dread your anger, I could tell you the reason. I dare +not. By all the saints I dare not!' +</P> + +<P> +A strange quiet fell upon Basil. It seemed as if he would ask no more +questions; he half turned away, and stood musing. Indeed, it was as +though he had already heard all the slave had to tell, and so overcome +was he by the revelation that speech, even connected thought, was at +first impossible. As he recovered from the stupefying blow, the blood +began to boil in his veins. He felt as when, in the fight of two days +ago, he saw the first of his men pierced by a javelin. Turning again to +Sagaris, he plied him with brief and rapid questions, till he had +learnt every detail of Marcian's journey from Rome to the villa. The +Syrian spoke of the veiled lady without hesitation as Veranilda, and +pretended to have known for some time that she was in a convent at +Praeneste; but, when interrogated as to her life at the villa, he +affected an affectation of doubt, murmuring that he had beheld nothing +with his own eyes, that perhaps the female slaves gossiped idly. +</P> + +<P> +'What do they say?' asked Basil with unnatural self-control. +</P> + +<P> +'They speak of her happy mien and gay talk, of her walking with my lord +in private. But I know nothing.' +</P> + +<P> +Basil kept his eyes down for a long minute, then moved like one who has +taken a resolve. +</P> + +<P> +'Show me the letter you bear,' he commanded. +</P> + +<P> +Sagaris produced it, and having looked at the seal, Basil silently +handed it back again. +</P> + +<P> +'Thrice noble,' pleaded the slave, 'you will not deliver me to my +lord's wrath?' +</P> + +<P> +'Have no fear; unless in anything you have lied to me. Follow.' +</P> + +<P> +They descended the stairs, and Basil had himself conducted to the house +where Venantius sate at dinner. He spoke with the captain in private. +</P> + +<P> +'This slave has a letter, not merely a message, for the king. He says +it is urgent, and so it may be; but, from what I have learnt I doubt +whether he is wholly to be trusted. Can you send some one with him?' +</P> + +<P> +'Nothing easier.' +</P> + +<P> +'I,' continued Basil, 'ride straightway for Arpinum. Ask me no +questions, Venantius. When I return, if I do return, you shall know +what sent me there. I may be back speedily.' +</P> + +<P> +He took food, and in an hour's time was ready to start. Of his +followers, he chose ten to accompany him. The rest remained at +Aesernia. Felix, worn out by watching and with a slight wound in the +side which began to be troublesome, he was reluctantly obliged to +leave. Having inquired as to the road over the mountains by which he +might reach Arpinum more quickly than by the Latin Way, he rode forth +from the town, and was soon spurring at headlong speed in a cloud of +dust. +</P> + +<P> +His thoughts far outstripped him; he raged at the prospect of long +hours to elapse ere he could reach Marcian's villa. With good luck he +might arrive before nightfall. If disappointed in that, a whole night +must pass, an eternity of torment, before he came face to face with him +he had called his dearest friend, now his abhorred enemy. +</P> + +<P> +What if he did not find him at the villa? Marcian had perhaps no +intention of remaining there. Perhaps he had already carried off his +victim to some other place. +</P> + +<P> +Seeing their lord post so furiously, the men looked in wonder at each +other. Some of them were soon left far behind, and Basil, though +merciless in his frenzy, saw at length that his horse was seriously +distressed; he slackened pace, allowed his followers to rejoin him, and +rode, perforce, at what seemed to him a mere crawl. The sun was a +flaming furnace; the earth seemed to be overspread with white fire-ash, +which dazed the eyes and choked. But Basil felt only the fire in his +heart and brain. Forgetful of all about him, he had not ridden more +than a few miles, when he missed the road; his men, ignorant of the +country, followed him without hesitation, and so it happened that, on +stopping at one of the few farms on their way, to ask how far it still +was to Arpinum, he learnt that he must ride back for nearly a couple of +hours to regain the track he should have taken. He broke into frantic +rage, cursed the countrymen who directed him, and as he spurred his +beast, cursed it too because of its stumbling at a stone. +</P> + +<P> +There was now no hope of finishing the journey to-day. His head on his +breast, Basil rode more and more slowly. The sun declined, and ere long +it would be necessary to seek harbourage. But here among the hills no +place of human habitation came in view. Luckily for themselves some of +the horsemen had brought provender. Their lord had given thought to no +such thing. The sun set; the hills cast a thickening shadow, even Basil +began to gaze uneasily ahead. At length there appeared a building, +looking in the dusky distance like a solitary country house. It proved +to be the ruin of a temple. +</P> + +<P> +'Here we must stop,' said Basil. 'My horse can go no further. Indeed, +the darkness would stay us in any case. We must shelter in these walls.' +</P> + +<P> +The men peered at each other, and a whisper went among them. For their +part, said one and all, they would rest under the open sky. Basil +understood. +</P> + +<P> +'What! you are afraid? Fools, do as you will. These walls shall shelter +me though all the devils in hell were my bedfellows.' +</P> + +<P> +What had come to him? asked his followers. Never had Basil been known +to speak thus. Spite of their horror of a forsaken temple, two or three +entered, and respectfully made offer of such food as they had with +them. Basil accepted a piece of bread, bade them see to his horse, and +crept into a corner of the building. He desired to be alone and to +think; for it seemed to him that he had not yet been able to reflect +upon the story told by Sagaris. What was it that lurked there at the +back of his mind? A memory, a suggestion of some sort, which would have +helped him to understand could he but grasp it. As he munched his bread +he tried desperately to think, to remember; but all within him was a +passionate misery, capable only of groans and curses. An intolerable +weariness possessed his limbs. After sitting for a while with his back +against the wall, he could not longer hold himself in this position, +but sank down and lay at full length; and even so he ached, ached, from +head to foot. +</P> + +<P> +Perhaps an hour had passed, and it was now quite dark within the +temple, when two of the men appeared with blazing torches, for they, by +means of flint and iron, had lit a fire in a hollow hard by, and meant +to keep it up through the night as a protection against wolves. They +brought Basil a draught of water in a leather bottle, from a little +stream they had found; and he drank gratefully, but without a word. The +torchlight showed bare walls and a shattered roof. Having searched all +round and discovered neither reptile nor beast, the men made a bed of +leaves and bracken, with a folded cloak for a pillow, and invited their +master to lie upon it. Basil did so, turned his face away, and bade +them leave him alone. +</P> + +<P> +What was that memory at the back of his mind? In the effort to draw it +forth he ground his teeth together, dug his nails into his hands. At +moments he forgot why he was wretched, and, starting up, strained his +eyes into the darkness, until he saw the face of Sagaris and heard him +speaking. +</P> + +<P> +For a while he slept; but dreadful dreams soon awoke him, and, +remembering where he was, he shook with horror. Low sounds fell upon +his ear, movements, he thought, in the black night. He would have +shouted to his men, but shame kept him mute. He crossed himself and +prayed to the Virgin; then, raising his eyes, he saw through the broken +roof a space of sky in which a star shone brilliantly. It brought him +comfort; but the next moment he remembered Sagaris, and mental anguish +blended with his fears of the invisible. +</P> + +<P> +Again sleep overcame him. He dreamt that an evil spirit, with a face he +knew but could not name, was pursuing him over trackless mountains. He +fled like the wind; but the spirit was close behind him, and wherever +he turned his head, he saw the familiar face grinning a devilish +mockery. A precipice lay before him. He leapt wildly, and knew at once +that he had leapt into fire, into hell. But the red gleam was that of a +torch, and before him, as he opened his eyes, stood one of his faithful +attendants who had come to see if all was well with him. He asked for +water, and the man fetched him a draught. It was yet long till dawn. +</P> + +<P> +Now he could not lie still, for fever burned him. Though awake, he saw +visions, and once sent forth what seemed to him a yell of terror; but +in truth it was only a moan, and no one heard. He relived through the +fight with the marauders; sickened with dread at the gleam of weapons; +flamed into fury, and shouted with savage exultation as he felt his +sword cut the neck of an enemy. He was trying to think of Veranilda, +but all through the night her image eluded him, and her name left him +cold. He was capable only of hatred. At daybreak he slept heavily; the +men, approaching him and looking at his haggard face, thought better to +let him rest, and only after sunrise did he awake. He was angry that +they had not aroused him sooner, got speedily to horse, and rode off +almost at the same speed as yesterday. Now, at all events, he drew near +to his goal; for a ride of an hour or two he needed not to spare his +beast; sternly he called to his men to follow him close. +</P> + +<P> +And all at once, as though his brain were restored by the freshness of +the morning, he grasped the thought which had eluded him. Marcian's +treachery was no new thing: twice he had been warned against his +seeming friend, by Petronilla and by Bessas, and in his folly he had +scorned the accusation which time had now so bitterly justified. +Forgotten, utterly forgotten, until this moment; yet how blinded he +must have been by his faith in Marcian's loyalty not to have reflected +upon many circumstances prompting suspicion. Marcian had perhaps been +false to him from the very day of Veranilda's disappearance, and how +far did his perfidy extend? Had he merely known where she was +concealed, or had he seen her, spoken with her, wooed her all along? He +had won her; so much was plain; and he could scarce have done so during +the brief journey to his villa. O villainous Marcian! O fickle, wanton +Veranilda! +</P> + +<P> +So distinct before his fiery imagination shone the image of those two +laughing together, walking alone (as Sagaris had reported), that all +reasoning, such as a calmer man might have entertained, was utterly +forbidden. Not a doubt crossed his mind. And in his heart was no desire +but of vengeance. +</P> + +<P> +At length he drew near to Arpinum. Avoiding the town, he questioned a +peasant at work in the fields, and learnt his way to the island. Just +as he came within view of the eastward waterfall, a girl was crossing +the bridge, away from the villa. Basil drew rein, bidding his men do +likewise, and let the girl, who had a bundle on her head, draw near. At +sight of the horsemen, of whom she was not aware till close by them, +the maid uttered a cry of alarm, and would have run back but Basil +intercepted her, jumped from his horse, and bade her have no fear, as +he only wished to ask a harmless question. Easily he learnt that +Marcian was at the villa, that he had arrived a few days ago, and that +with him had come a lady. +</P> + +<P> +'What is that lady's name?' he inquired. +</P> + +<P> +The girl did not know. Only one or two of the slaves, she said, had +seen her; she was said to be beautiful, with long yellow hair. +</P> + +<P> +'She never goes out?' asked Basil. +</P> + +<P> +The reply was that, only this morning, she had walked in the wood—the +wood just across the bridge—with Marcian. +</P> + +<P> +Basil sprang on to his horse, beckoned his troop, and rode forward. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap22"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +DOOM +</H3> + +<P> +When Marcian parted from Veranilda in the peristyle, and watched her as +she ascended to her chamber, he knew that sombre exultation which +follows upon triumph in evil. Hesitancies were now at end; no longer +could he be distracted between two desires. In his eye, as it pursued +the beauty for which he had damned himself, glowed the fire of an +unholy joy. Not without inner detriment had Marcian accustomed himself +for years to wear a double face; though his purpose had been pure, the +habit of assiduous perfidy, of elaborate falsehood, could not leave his +soul untainted. A traitor now for his own ends, he found himself moving +in no unfamiliar element, and, the irrevocable words once uttered, he +thrilled with defiance of rebuke. All the persistency of the man +centred itself upon the achievement of this crime, to him a crime no +longer from the instant that he had irreversibly willed it. +</P> + +<P> +On fire to his finger-tips, he could yet reason with the coldest +clarity of thought. Having betrayed his friend thus far, he must needs +betray him to the extremity of traitorhood; must stand face to face +with him in the presence of the noble Totila, and accuse him even as he +had done to Veranilda. Only thus, as things had come about, could he +assure himself against the fear that Totila, in generosity, or policy, +or both, might give the Amal-descended maid to Basil. To defeat Basil's +love was his prime end, jealousy being more instant with him than +fleshly impulse. Yet so strong had this second motive now become, that +he all but regretted his message to the king: to hold Veranilda in his +power, to gratify his passion sooner or later, by this means or by +that, he would perhaps have risked all the danger to which such +audacity exposed him. But Marcian was not lust-bitten quite to madness. +For the present, enough to ruin the hopes of Basil. This done, the +field for his own attempt lay open. By skilful use of his advantages, +he might bring it to pass that Totila would grant him a supreme +reward—the hand of Veranilda. +</P> + +<P> +Unless, indeed, the young king, young and warm-blooded however noble of +mind, should himself look upon Veranilda with a lover's eyes. It was +not the first time that Marcian had thought of this. It made him wince. +But he reminded himself that herein lay another safeguard against the +happiness of Basil, and so was able to disregard the fear. +</P> + +<P> +He would let his victim repose during the heat of the day, and then, +towards evening, would summon her to another interview. Not much longer +could he hope to be with her in privacy; to-morrow, or the next day at +latest, emissaries of the Gothic king would come in response to his +letter. But this evening he should speak with her, gaze upon her, for a +long, long hour. She was gentle, meek, pious; in everything the +exquisite antithesis of such a woman as Heliodora. Out of very humility +she allowed herself to believe that Basil had ceased to love her. How +persuade her, against the pure loyalty of her heart, that he had even +plotted her surrender to an unknown fate? What proof of that could he +devise? Did he succeed in overcoming her doubts, would he not have gone +far towards winning her gratitude? +</P> + +<P> +She would shed tears again; it gave him a nameless pleasure to see +Veranilda weep. +</P> + +<P> +Thinking thus, he strayed aimlessly and unconsciously in courts and +corridors. Night would come again, and could he trust himself through +the long, still night after long speech with Veranilda? A blacker +thought than any he had yet nurtured began to stir in his mind, raising +its head like the viper of an hour ago. Were she but his—his +irredeemably? He tried to see beyond that, but his vision blurred. +</P> + +<P> +Her nature was gentle, timid; the kind of nature, he thought, which +subdues itself to the irreparable. So soft, so sweet, so utterly woman, +might she not, thinking herself abandoned by Basil, yield heart and +soul to a man whom she saw helpless to resist a passionate love of her? +Or, if this hope deceived him, was there no artifice with which to +cover his ill-doing, no piece of guile subtle enough to cloak such +daring infamy? +</P> + +<P> +He was in the atrium, standing on the spot where first he had talked +with her. As then, he gazed at the bronze group of the candelabrum; his +eyes were fixed on those of Proserpine. +</P> + +<P> +A slave entered and announced to him a visit from one of the priests +whom he was going to see when the meeting at the bridge changed his +purpose. The name startled him. Was this man sent by God? He bade +introduce the visitor, and in a moment there entered a white-bearded, +shoulder-bowed ecclesiastic, perspiring from the sunshine, who greeted +him with pleasant cordiality. This priest it was—he bore the name +Gaudiosus—who had baptized Marcian, and had given him in childhood +religious teaching; a good, but timid man, at all times readier to +praise than to reprove, a well-meaning utterer of smooth things, +closing his eyes to evil, which confused rather than offended him. From +the same newsbearer, who told him of Marcian's arrival at the villa, +Gaudiosus had heard of a mysterious lady; but it was far from his +thought to meddle with the morals of one whose noble birth and +hereditary position of patron inspired him with respect; he came only +to gossip about the affairs of the time. They sat down together, +Marcian glad of the distraction. But scarce had they been talking for +five minutes, when again the servant presented himself. +</P> + +<P> +'What now?' asked his master impatiently. +</P> + +<P> +'My lord, at the gate is the lord Basil.' +</P> + +<P> +Marcian started up. +</P> + +<P> +'Basil? How equipped and attended?' +</P> + +<P> +'Armed, on horseback, and with a number of armed horsemen.' +</P> + +<P> +'Withdraw, and wait outside till I call you.' +</P> + +<P> +Marcian turned to the presbyter. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes +strangely bright. +</P> + +<P> +'Here,' he said, in low, hurried tones, 'comes an evil man, a deep-dyed +traitor, with the aspect of friendliest integrity. I am glad you are +with me. I have no leisure now to tell you the story; you shall hear it +afterwards. What I ask of you, reverend father, is to bear me out in +all I say, to corroborate, if asked to do so, all I state to him. You +may rely upon the truth of every word I shall utter; and may be assured +that, in doing this, you serve only the cause of good. Let it not +surprise you that I receive the man with open arms. He was my dear +friend; I have only of late discovered his infamy, and for the gravest +reasons, which you shall learn, I am obliged to mask my knowledge. +Beloved father, you will give me your countenance?' +</P> + +<P> +'I will, I will,' replied Gaudiosus nervously. 'You would not deceive +me, I well know, dear son.' +</P> + +<P> +'God forbid!' +</P> + +<P> +Marcian summoned the waiting servant, and ordered that the traveller +should be straightway admitted. A few minutes passed in absolute +silence, then, as the two stood gazing towards the entrance, they saw +the gleam of a casque and of a breastplate, and before them stood +Basil. His arms extended, Marcian stepped forward. +</P> + +<P> +'So soon, O brave Basil!' he exclaimed. 'What speed you must have made! +How long is it since my letter reached you?' +</P> + +<P> +There passed the semblance of an embrace between them. Basil was death +pale; he spoke in hollow tones, as though his tongue were parched, and +looked with bloodshot eyes from Marcian to the ecclesiastic. +</P> + +<P> +'I am travel-worn. Your hospitality must restore me.' +</P> + +<P> +'That it shall,' replied Marcian. 'Or, better still,' he added, 'the +hospitality of my father Gaudiosus.' He touched the priest's arm, as if +affectionately. 'For here there is little solace; barely one chamber +habitable. You have often heard me describe, O Basil, my poor, ruinous +island villa, and now at length you behold it. I did not think you +would pass this way, or I would have prepared for your fitting +reception. By the greatest chance you find me here; and to-morrow I +must be gone. But scarce two thousand paces from here is the dwelling +of this reverend man, who will entertain you fittingly, and give you +the care you need; for it seems to me, dear Basil, that you are more +than wearied.' +</P> + +<P> +The listener nodded, and let himself drop upon a seat near to where +Marcian was standing. +</P> + +<P> +'What have you to tell me?' he asked under his breath. +</P> + +<P> +'Nothing good, alas!' was the murmured reply. +</P> + +<P> +'Shall we speak in private?' +</P> + +<P> +'Nay, it is needless. All my secrets lie open to Gaudiosus.' +</P> + +<P> +Again Basil cast a glance at the presbyter, who had seated himself and +appeared to be absorbed in thought. +</P> + +<P> +'Do you mean,' he asked, 'that something new has befallen?' +</P> + +<P> +His eyes were upon Marcian, and Marcian's upon those of Proserpine. +</P> + +<P> +'Yes, something new. The deacon of whom you know has left Rome, +accompanying the Pope on his journey eastward. And with him he has +taken—' +</P> + +<P> +A name was shaped upon the speaker's lips, but whether of purpose, or +because his voice failed him, it found no utterance. +</P> + +<P> +'Veranilda?' +</P> + +<P> +As Basil spoke, his eye was caught by the movement of a curtain at the +back of the room. The curtain was pushed aside, and there appeared the +figure of a maiden, pale, beautiful. Marcian did not see her, nor yet +did the priest. +</P> + +<P> +'Veranilda?' repeated Basil, in the same questioning tone. He leaned +forward, his hand upon his wrist. +</P> + +<P> +'She—alas!' was Marcian's reply. +</P> + +<P> +'Liar! traitor! devil!' +</P> + +<P> +At each word, Basil's dagger drank blood up to the hilt. With his +furious voice blended a yell of terror, of agony, a faint cry of horror +from Gaudiosus, and a woman's scream. Then came silence. +</P> + +<P> +The priest dropped to his knees by Marcian's prostrate form. Basil, the +stained weapon in his crimson hand, stared at Veranilda, who also had +fallen. +</P> + +<P> +'Man! What hast thou done?' gasped Gaudiosus. +</P> + +<P> +The trembling, senile tones wakened Basil as if from a trance. He +thrust his dagger into its sheath, stepped to the back of the room, and +bent over the white loveliness that lay still. +</P> + +<P> +'Is it death?' he murmured. +</P> + +<P> +'Death! death!' answered the priest, who had just heard Marcian's last +sob. +</P> + +<P> +'I speak not of that perjured wretch,' said Basil. 'Come hither.' +</P> + +<P> +Gaudiosus obeyed, and looked with wonder at the unconscious face. +</P> + +<P> +'Who is this?' he asked. +</P> + +<P> +'No matter who. Does she live?' +</P> + +<P> +Basil had knelt, and taken one of the little hands in both his own, +staining it with the blood of Marcian. +</P> + +<P> +'I can feel no throb of life,' he said, speaking coldly, mechanically. +</P> + +<P> +The priest bent, and put his cheek to her lips. +</P> + +<P> +'She lives. This is but a swoon. Help me to bear her to the couch.' +</P> + +<P> +But Basil took the slender body in his arms, and carried it like that +of a child. When he had laid it down, he looked at Gaudiosus sternly. +</P> + +<P> +'Have you authority in this house?' +</P> + +<P> +'Some little, perhaps. I know not. What is your will?' +</P> + +<P> +Utterly confounded, his eyes dropping moisture, his limbs shaken as if +with palsy, the priest babbled his reply. +</P> + +<P> +'Use any power you have,' continued Basil, 'to prevent more bloodshed. +Outside the gates are men of mine. Bid the porter admit them to the +outer court. Then call thither two servants, and let them bear away +<I>that</I>—whither you will. After, you shall hear more.' +</P> + +<P> +Like an obedient slave, Gaudiosus sped on his errand. Basil the while +stood gazing at Veranilda; but he did not go very near to her, and his +look had nothing of tenderness. He saw the priest return, followed by +two men, heard him whisper to them, saw them take up and carry away +their master's corpse; all this as if it did not regard him. Again he +turned his gaze upon Veranilda. It seemed to him that her lips, her +eyelids moved. He bent forward, heard a sigh. Then the blue eyes +opened, but as yet saw nothing. +</P> + +<P> +Gaudiosus reappeared, and Basil beckoned him. +</P> + +<P> +'You do not know her?' he asked in a low voice. +</P> + +<P> +'I never looked upon her face till now,' was the reply. +</P> + +<P> +At the sound of their voices Veranilda stirred, tried to rouse herself, +uttered a sound of distress. +</P> + +<P> +'Speak to her,' said Basil. +</P> + +<P> +Gaudiosus approached the couch, and spoke soothing words. +</P> + +<P> +'What dreadful thought is this?' said Veranilda. 'What have I seen?' +</P> + +<P> +The priest whispered an adjuration to prayer. But she, raising her +head, cast terrified glances about the hall. Basil had moved further +away, and she did not seem to be aware of his presence. +</P> + +<P> +'How long is it,' he asked, with his eyes upon Gaudiosus, 'since +Marcian came from Rome?' +</P> + +<P> +'This is the fourth day. So I have been told. I myself saw him for the +first time not an hour—nay, not half an hour ago.' +</P> + +<P> +'You knew not that he brought <I>her</I> with him?' +</P> + +<P> +Basil, without looking in that direction, signalled with his head +towards Veranilda. +</P> + +<P> +'I had heard of some companion unnamed.' +</P> + +<P> +'He had not spoken of her to you?' +</P> + +<P> +'Not a word.' +</P> + +<P> +On the tesselated floor where Marcian had fallen was a pool of blood. +Basil only now perceived it, and all at once a violent shudder went +over him. +</P> + +<P> +'Man of God!' he exclaimed in a voice of sudden passion, terribly +resonant after the dull, hard accents of his questioning. 'You look +upon me with abhorrence, and, perhaps, with fear. Hearken to my +vindication. He whom I have slain was the man I held in dearest +friendship. I believed him true to the heart's core. Yesterday—was it +but yesterday?—O blessed Christ!—it seems to me so long ago—I +learned that his heart was foul with treachery. Long, long, he has lied +to me, pretending to seek with me for one I had lost, my plighted love. +In secret he robbed me of her. Heard you not his answer when, to catch +the lie on his very lips, I asked what news he could give me of her. I +knew that she was here; his own servant had secretly avowed the truth +to me. And you heard him say that she was gone on far travel. Therefore +it was that he would not harbour me in his house—me, his friend. In +the name of the Crucified, did I not well to lay him low?' +</P> + +<P> +Somewhat recovered from the emotions which had enfeebled him, Gaudiosus +held up his head, and made solemn answer. +</P> + +<P> +'Not yours was it to take vengeance. The God to whom you appeal has +said: "Thou shalt do no murder."' +</P> + +<P> +'Consider his crime,' returned the other. 'In the moment when he swore +falsely I lifted up my eyes, and behold, she herself stood before me. +She whom I loved, who had pledged herself to me, who long ago would +have been my wife but for the enemy who came between us—she, hidden +here with him, become a wanton in his embraces—' +</P> + +<P> +A low cry of anguish interrupted him. He turned. Veranilda had risen +and drawn near. +</P> + +<P> +'Basil! You know not what you say.' +</P> + +<P> +'Nor what I <I>could</I> say,' he replied, his eyes blazing with scorn. +'You, who were truth itself have you so well learned to lie? Talk on. +Tell me that he held you here perforce, and that you passed the days +and the nights in weeping. Have I not heard of your smiles and your +contentment? Whither did you stray this morning? Did you go into the +wood to say your orisons?' +</P> + +<P> +Veranilda turned to the priest. +</P> + +<P> +'Servant of God I Hear me, unhappy that I am!' +</P> + +<P> +With a gesture of entreaty she flung out her hands, and, in doing so, +saw that one of them was red. Her woebegone look changed to terror. +</P> + +<P> +'What is this? His blood is upon me—on my hand, my garment. When did I +touch him? Holy father, whither has he gone? Does he live? Oh, tell me +if he lives!' +</P> + +<P> +'Come hence with me,' said Gaudiosus. 'Come where I may hear you utter +the truth before God.' +</P> + +<P> +But Veranilda was as one distraught. She threw herself on to her knees. +</P> + +<P> +'Tell me he lives. He is but sorely hurt? He can speak? Whither have +they carried him?' +</P> + +<P> +Confirmed in his damning thought by every syllable she uttered, Basil +strode away. +</P> + +<P> +'Lead her where you will,' he shouted. 'I stay under this abhorred roof +only till my men have eaten and taken rest.' +</P> + +<P> +Without knowing it, he had stepped into the pool of blood, and a red +track was left behind him as he went forth from the hall. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap23"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXIII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE RED HAND +</H3> + +<P> +Resting at length from desire and intrigue, Marcian lay cold upon the +bed where he had passed his haunted nights. About his corpse were +gathered all the servants of the house; men, with anger on their brows, +muttering together, and women wailing low because of fear. The girl who +had met the horsemen by the bridge told her story, whence it became +evident that Marcian's death was the result of private quarrel; but +some of the slaves declared that this armed company came in advance of +the Gothic host; and presently the loss of their master was all but +forgotten in anxiety as to their own fate at the hands of the Emperor. +</P> + +<P> +This talk was interrupted by the approach of Basil's men, who came to +seek a meal for themselves and forage for their horses. Having no +choice but to obey, the servants went about the work required of them. +A quiet fell upon the house. The strangers talked little, and, when +they spoke, subdued their voices. In still chambers and corridors was +heard now and then a sound of weeping. +</P> + +<P> +Basil, though he had given orders for departure as soon as the meal was +done, knew not whither his journey should be directed. A paralysis of +thought and will kept him pacing alone in the courtyard; food he could +not touch; of repose he was incapable; and though he constantly lifted +up his bloodstained hand, to gaze at it as if in bewildered horror, he +did not even think of washing the blood away. At moments he lost +consciousness of what he had done, his mind straying to things remote; +then the present came back upon him with a shock, seeming, however, to +strike on numbed senses, so that he had to say to himself, 'I have +slain Marcian,' before he could fully understand his suffering. +</P> + +<P> +Veranilda was now scarce present to his mind at all. Something vaguely +outlined hovered in the background; something he durst not look at or +think about; the sole thing in the world that had reality for him was +the image of Marcian—stabbed, shrieking, falling, dead. Every minute +was the fearful scene re-enacted. More than once he checked himself in +his walk, seeming to be about to step on Marcian's body. +</P> + +<P> +At length, seeing a shadow draw near, he raised his eyes and beheld +Gaudiosus. He tried to speak, but found that his tongue clave to the +roof of his mouth. Automatically he crossed himself, then caught the +priest's hand, and knelt and kissed it. +</P> + +<P> +'Rise, my son,' said Gaudiosus, 'for I would talk with you.' +</P> + +<P> +On one side of the courtyard was a portico with seats, and thither the +old man led. +</P> + +<P> +'Unless,' he began gravely, 'unless the author of all falsehood—who is +so powerful over women—has entered into this maiden to baffle and +mislead me utterly, I feel assured that she is chaste; not merely +unsullied in the flesh, but as pure of heart as her fallen nature may +permit a woman to be.' +</P> + +<P> +Basil gazed at him darkly. +</P> + +<P> +'My father, how can you believe it? Did you not hear her lament because +the man was dead? It is indeed the devil that beguiles you.' +</P> + +<P> +Gaudiosus bent his head, and pondered anxiously. +</P> + +<P> +'Tell me,' he said at length, 'all her story, that I may compare it +with what I have heard from her own lips.' +</P> + +<P> +Slowly at first, and confusedly, with hesitations, repetitions, long +pauses, Basil recited the history of Veranilda, so far as he knew it. +The priest listened and nodded, and when silence came, continued the +narrative. If Veranilda spoke truth she had never seen Marcian until he +took her from the convent at Praeneste. Moreover, Marcian had never +uttered to her a word of love; in his house she had lived as chastely +as among the holy sisters. +</P> + +<P> +'What did she here, then?' asked Basil bitterly. 'Why did he bring her +here? You know, O father, that it was not in fulfilment of his promise +to me, for you heard his shameless lie when I questioned him.' +</P> + +<P> +'He told her,' replied the priest, 'that she sojourned here only until +he could put her under the protection of the Gothic King.' +</P> + +<P> +'Of Totila?' cried Basil. 'Nay, for all I know, he may have thought of +that—his passion being appeased.' +</P> + +<P> +Even as he spoke be remembered Sagaris and the letter written in +Gothic. Some motive of interest might, indeed, have prompted Marcian to +this step. None the less was he Veranilda's lover. Would he otherwise +have kept her here with him, alone, and not rather have continued the +journey, with all speed, till he reached Totila's camp? +</P> + +<P> +'When I left her,' pursued Gaudiosus, whose confidence in his own +judgment was already shaken by the young man's vehemence, 'I spoke in +private with certain of the bondswomen, who declared to me that they +could avouch the maiden's innocence since her coming hither—until +to-day's sunrise.' +</P> + +<P> +Basil laughed with scorn. +</P> + +<P> +'Until to-day's sunrise? And pray, good father, what befell her at that +moment? What whisper the Argus-eyed bondswomen?' +</P> + +<P> +'They tell me,' replied the priest, 'that she went forth and met +Marcian, and walked with him in a wood, her own woman having been sent +back to the villa. This troubled me; but her voice, her countenance—' +</P> + +<P> +'Helped by the devil,' broke in Basil. 'Reverend man, do not seek to +deceive yourself, or to solace me with a vain hope. I pray you, did +Marcian, when you came to visit him, speak of a lady whose virtue he +was sworn to guard? Plainly, not a word fell from him. Yet assuredly he +would have spoken had things been as you pretend.' +</P> + +<P> +Gaudiosus, bent double, a hand propping his white-bearded chin, mused +for a little with sadded air. +</P> + +<P> +'Lord Basil,' he resumed at length, 'somewhat more have I to say to +you. I live far from the world, and hear little of its rumour. Until +this day your name was unknown to me, and of good concerning you I have +to this hour heard nothing save from your own lips. May I credit this +report you make of yourself? Or should I rather believe what Marcian, +in brief words, declared to me when he heard that you were at his gate?' +</P> + +<P> +The speaker paused, as if to collect courage. +</P> + +<P> +'He spoke ill of me?' asked Basil. +</P> + +<P> +'He spoke much ill. He accused you of disloyalty in friendship, saying +that he had but newly learnt how you had deceived him. More than this +he had not time to tell.' +</P> + +<P> +Basil looked into the old man's rheumy eyes. +</P> + +<P> +'You do well to utter this, good father. Tell me one thing more. Yonder +maiden, does she breathe the same charge against me?' +</P> + +<P> +'Not so,' replied Gaudiosus. 'Of you she said no evil.' +</P> + +<P> +'Yet I scarce think'—he smiled coldly—'that she made profession of +love for me?' +</P> + +<P> +'My son, her speech was maidenly. She spoke of herself as erstwhile +your betrothed; no more than that.' +</P> + +<P> +As he uttered these words, the priest rose. He had an uneasy look, as +if he feared that infirmity of will and fondness for gossip had +betrayed him into some neglect of spiritual obligation. +</P> + +<P> +'It is better,' he said, 'that we should converse no more. I know not +what your purposes may be, nor do they concern me I remain here to pray +by the dead, and I shall despatch a messenger to my brother presbyter, +that we may prepare for the burial. Remember,' he raised his head, and +his voice struck a deeper note, 'that the guilt of blood is upon you, +and that no plea of earthly passion will avail before the Almighty +Judge. Behold your hand—even so, but far more deeply have you stained +your soul.' +</P> + +<P> +Basil scarce heard. Numbness had crept over him again; he stared at the +doorway by which the priest re-entered the house, and only after some +minutes recalled enough of the old man's last words to look upon his +defiled hand. Then he called aloud, summoning any slave who might hear +him, and when the doorkeeper came timidly from a recess where he had +been skulking, bade him bring water. Having cleansed himself, he walked +by an outer way to the rear of the villa; for he durst not pass through +the atrium. +</P> + +<P> +Here his men were busy over their meal, sitting or sprawling in a +shadowed place, the slaves waiting upon them. With a reminder that they +must hold themselves ready to ride at any moment, he passed on through +a large, wild garden, and at length, where a grove of box-trees +surrounded the ruins of a little summer-house, cast himself to the +ground. +</P> + +<P> +His breast heaved, his eyes swelled and smarted, but he could not shed +tears. Face downwards, like a man who bites the earth in his last +agony, he lay quivering. So did an hour or more pass by. +</P> + +<P> +He was roused by the voices of his men, who were searching and calling +for him. With an effort, he rose to his feet, and stepped out into the +sunshine, when he learnt that a troop of soldiers had just ridden up to +the villa, and that their captain, who had already entered, was asking +for him by name. Careless what might await him, Basil followed the men +as far as the inner court, and there stood Venantius. +</P> + +<P> +'I surprise you,' cried out the genial voice with a cheery laugh. You +had five hours start of me. Pray, dear lord, when did you get here?' +</P> + +<P> +Basil could make no reply, and the other, closely observing his strange +countenance, went on to explain that, scarcely started from Aesernia on +his way to the king, Marcian's messenger had met with Totila himself, +who was nearer than had been thought. After reading the letter, Totila +had come on rapidly to Aesernia, and had forthwith despatched Venantius +to the villa by Arpinum. +</P> + +<P> +'You guess my mission, lord Basil,' he pursued, with bluff good-humour. +'Dullard that I was, the talk of a fair lady travelling in Marcian's +charge never brought to my mind that old story of Surrentum. Here is +our royal Totila all eagerness to see this maiden—if maiden still she +be. What say you on that point, dear lord? Nay, look not so fiercely at +me. I am not here to call any one to account, but only to see that the +Gothic beauty comes safe to Aesernia as soon as may be.' +</P> + +<P> +'You will find her within,' muttered Basil. +</P> + +<P> +'And Marcian? I might have thought I came inopportunely to this +dwelling, but that he himself wrote to the king that the lady was here.' +</P> + +<P> +'You are assured of that?' Basil asked, under his breath. +</P> + +<P> +'I have Totila's word for it, at all events. But you seem indisposed +for talk, lord Basil, and my business is with Marcian. The slaves all +look scared, and can't or won't answer a plain question. I have no time +to waste. Tell me, I pray you, where the lord of the villa may be +found.' +</P> + +<P> +Basil summoned one of his followers. +</P> + +<P> +'Conduct the lord Venantius to Marcian's chamber.' +</P> + +<P> +It was done. Basil remained standing in the same spot, his eyes cast +down, till a quick step announced the captain's return. Venantius came +close up to him, and spoke in a grave but not unfriendly voice: +</P> + +<P> +'The priest has told me what he saw, but will not say more. I ask you +nothing, lord Basil. You will make your defence to the king.' +</P> + +<P> +'Be it so.' +</P> + +<P> +'My men must rest for an hour,' continued Venantius. 'We shall ride +this afternoon as far as Aquinum, and there pass the night. I go now to +speak with Veranilda.' +</P> + +<P> +'As you will.' +</P> + +<P> +Basil withdrew into the portico, sat down, and covered his face with +his hands. Fever consumed him, and a dreadful melancholy weighed upon +his spirit. At a respectful distance from him, his followers had +assembled, ready for departure. The soldiers who had come with +Venantius, a score in number, were eating and drinking outside the +gates. Within, all was quiet. Half an hour elapsed, and Venantius again +came forward. Seeing Basil in the shadow of the portico, he went and +sat beside him, and began to speak with rough but well-meaning solace. +Why this heaviness? If he surmised aright, Basil had but avenged +himself as any man would have done. For his own part, he had never +thought enough of any woman to kill a man on her account; but such +little troubles were of everyday occurrence, and must not be taken too +much to heart. He had seen this Gothic damsel of whom there had been so +much rumour, and, by Diana I (if the oath were not inappropriate) her +face deserved all that was said of it. His rival being out of the way, +why should not Basil pluck up cheer? Totila would not deal harshly in +such a matter as this, and more likely than not he would be disposed to +give the maiden to a Roman of noble race, his great desire being to win +all Romans by generosity. +</P> + +<P> +'Yonder priest tells me,' he added, 'that you were over hasty; that you +struck on a mere suspicion. And methinks he may be right. By the Holy +Cross, I could well believe this maiden a maiden in very deed. I never +looked upon a purer brow, an eye that spoke more innocently. Hark ye, +my good Basil, I am told that you have not spoken with her. If you +would fain do so before we set forth, I will be no hinderer. Go, if you +will, into yonder room'—he pointed to a door near by—' and when she +descends (I have but to call), you shall see her undisturbed.' +</P> + +<P> +For a moment Basil sat motionless; then, without a word, he rose and +went whither Venantius directed him. But a few minutes passed before he +saw Veranilda enter. She was clad for travel, a veil over her face; +this, and the shadow in which Basil stood, made her at first unaware of +his presence, for Venantius had only requested her to enter this room +until the carriage was ready. Standing with bowed head, she sobbed. +</P> + +<P> +'Why do you weep?' demanded an abrupt voice, which made her draw back +trembling. +</P> + +<P> +Basil moved a little towards her. +</P> + +<P> +'You weep for <I>him</I>?' he added in the same pitiless tone. +</P> + +<P> +'For him, for you, and for myself, alas! alas!' +</P> + +<P> +The subdued anguish of her voice did not touch Basil. He burned with +hatred of her and of the dead man. +</P> + +<P> +'Shed no tears for me. I am cured of a long folly. And for you +consolation will not be slow in coming. Who knows but you may throw +your spell upon Totila himself.' +</P> + +<P> +'You know not what you say,' replied Veranilda; not, as when she used +the words before, in accents quivering from a stricken heart, but with +sorrowful dignity and self-command. 'Is it Basil who speaks thus? Were +it only the wrong done me that I had to bear, I could keep silence, +waiting until God restored your justice and your gentleness. But, +though in nothing blameworthy, I am the cause of what has come about; +for had I not entered that room when I did, you would not have struck +the fatal blow. Listen then, O Basil, whilst I make known to you what +happened before you came.' +</P> + +<P> +She paused to control herself. +</P> + +<P> +'I must go back to the night when I left the convent. No one had told +me I was to go away. In the middle of the night I was aroused and led +forth, with me the woman who served me. We had travelled an hour or +two, perhaps, when some one standing by the carriage spoke to me, some +one who said he was Marcian the friend of Basil, and bade me have no +fears, for Basil awaited me at the end of the journey. The next day he +spoke to me again, this time face to face, but only a few words. We +came to this villa. You have been told, by I know not whom, that I was +light of heart. It is true, for I believed what Marcian had said to me, +and nothing had befallen to disturb my gladness. I lived with my +serving woman privately, in quiet and hope. This morning, yielding, +alas! to a wish which I thought harmless, I went forth with my +attendant to the waterfall. As I stood gazing at it, the lord Marcian +came forth on horseback. He alighted to speak with me, and presently +asked if I would go to see another fall of the river, across the +island. I consented. As we went, he dismissed my servant, and I did not +know what he had done (thinking she still followed), until, when we +were in a wood at the water's edge, I could no longer see the woman, +and Marcian told me he had bidden her go to fetch seats for us. Then he +began to speak, and what he said, how shall I tell you?' +</P> + +<P> +There was another brief silence. Basil did not stir; his eyes were bent +sternly upon the veiled visage. +</P> + +<P> +'Was it evil in his heart that shaped such words? Or had he been +deceived by some other? He said that Basil had forgotten me; that Basil +loved, and would soon wed, a lady in Rome. More than that, he said that +Basil was plotting to get me into his power, his purpose being to +deliver me to the Greeks, who would take me to Constantinople. But +Marcian, so he declared, had rescued me in time, and I was to be +guarded by the King of the Goths.' +</P> + +<P> +The listener moved, raising his arm and letting it fall again. But he +breathed no word. +</P> + +<P> +'This did he tell me,' she added. 'I went back to the villa to my +chamber. I sat thinking, I know not how long; I know not how long. +Then, unable to remain any longer alone, driven by my dreadful doubt, I +came forth to seek Marcian. I descended the stairs to the atrium. You +saw me—alas! alas!' +</P> + +<P> +Basil drew nearer to her. +</P> + +<P> +'He had spoken no word of love?' +</P> + +<P> +'No word. I had no fear of <I>that</I>.' +</P> + +<P> +'Why, then, did he frame these lies, these hellish lies?' +</P> + +<P> +'Alas!' cried Veranilda, clasping her hands above her head. 'Did he +still live, the truth might be discovered. His first words to me, in +the night when he stood beside the carriage, sounded so kind and true; +he named himself the friend of Basil, said that Basil awaited me at the +journey's end. How could he speak so, if he indeed then thought you +what he afterwards said? Oh, were he alive, to stand face to face with +me again!' +</P> + +<P> +'It is not enough,' asked Basil harshly, 'that I tell you he lied?' +</P> + +<P> +She did not on the instant reply, and he, possessed with unreasoning +bitterness, talked wildly on. +</P> + +<P> +'No! You believed him, and believe him still. I can well fancy that he +spoke honestly at first; but when he had looked into your face, when he +had talked with you, something tempted him to villainy. Go! Your tears +and your lamentations betray you. It is not of me that you think, but +of him, him, only him! "Oh, were he alive!" Ay, keep your face bidden; +you know too well it could not bear my eyes upon it.' +</P> + +<P> +Veranilda threw back the long veil, and stood looking at him. +</P> + +<P> +'Eyes red with weeping,' he exclaimed, 'and for whom? If you were true +to me, would you not rejoice that I had slain my enemy? You say you +were joyful in the thought of seeing me again? You see me—and with +what countenance?' +</P> + +<P> +'I see not Basil,' she murmured, her hands upon her breast. +</P> + +<P> +'You see a false lover, an ignoble traitor—the Basil shown you by +Marcian. What would it avail me to speak in my own defence? His voice +is in your ears, its lightest tone outweighing my most solemn oath. +"Oh, that he were alive!" That is all you find to say to me.' +</P> + +<P> +'I know you not,' sobbed Veranilda. 'Alas, I know you not!' +</P> + +<P> +'Nor I you. I dreamt of a Veranilda who loved so purely and so +constantly that not a thousand slanderers could have touched her heart +with a shadow of mistrust. But who are you—you whom the first gross +lie of a man lusting for your beauty utterly estranges from your faith? +Who are you—who wail for the liar's death, and shrink in horror from +the hand that slew him? I ever heard that the daughters of the Goths +were chaste and true and fearless. So they may be—all but one, whose +birth marked her for faithlessness.' +</P> + +<P> +As though smitten by a brutal blow, Veranilda bowed her head, +shuddering. Once more she looked at Basil, for an instant, with wide +eyes of fear; then hid herself beneath the veil, and was gone. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap24"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXIV +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE MOUNT OF THE MONK +</H3> + +<P> +Basil rode with his own man apart from Venantius and the soldiers who +guarded the conveyance in which sat Veranilda. Venantius, for his part, +would fain have lightened the way with friendly talk, but finding Basil +irresponsive, he left him to his gloomy meditations. And so they came +to Aquinum, where they passed the night. +</P> + +<P> +By way of precaution, the captain set a guard before the house in which +his fellow-traveller slept, and at daybreak, as soon as he had risen, +one of the soldiers thus employed reported to him that the young Roman +had fallen into such distemper that it seemed doubtful whether he could +continue the journey; a servant who had slept at Basil's door declared +that all through the night his master had talked wildly, like one +fever-frenzied. Venantius visited the sick man, and found him risen, +but plainly in poor case for travel. +</P> + +<P> +'Why, you will never mount your horse,' he opined, after touching +Basil's hand, and finding it on fire. 'This is what comes of a queasy +conscience. Take heart, man! Are you the first that stuck a false +friend between the ribs, or the first to have your love kissed against +her will? That it <I>was</I> against her will, I take upon myself to swear. +You are too fretful, my good lord. Come, now! What are we to do with +you?' +</P> + +<P> +'I can ride on,' answered Basil. 'Pay no heed to me, and leave me in +peace, I pray you.' +</P> + +<P> +He was helped to horseback, and the cavalcade went forth again along +the Latin Way. This morning, no beam of sunrise shone above the +mountains; the heavens were sullen, and a hot wind blew from the south. +Even Venantius, though he hummed a song to himself, felt the sombre +influence of the air, and kept glancing uneasily backwards at the +death-pale man, who rode with head upon his breast. Scarcely had they +ridden for an hour at foot-pace, when a shout caught the captain's ear; +he turned, just in time to see Basil dropping to the ground. +</P> + +<P> +'God's thunder!' he growled. 'I have been expecting this. Well if he +dies, it may save the king some trouble.' +</P> + +<P> +He jumped down, and went to Basil's side. At first the sufferer could +not speak, but when water had been given him, he gazed at Venantius +with a strange smile, and, pointing before him, said faintly: +</P> + +<P> +'Is not yonder Casinum?' +</P> + +<P> +'It is. We will bear you thither for harbourage. Courage, friend!' +</P> + +<P> +'Above, on the mountain,' continued Basil painfully, 'dwells my kinsman +Benedict, with his holy men. Could I but reach the monastery!' +</P> + +<P> +'Why, perchance you may,' replied the captain. 'And in truth you would +be better cared for there.' +</P> + +<P> +'Help me, good Venantius!' panted Basil, with eyes of entreaty. 'Let me +die in the monastery.' +</P> + +<P> +In those days of pestilence, every fever-stricken person was an object +of dread to all but the most loving or the most courageous. The +stalwart Venantius thought for a moment of carrying Basil before him on +his horse, but prudence overcame this humane impulse. Into the +carriage, for the same reason (had there been no other), he could not +be put; but there was a vacant place beside the driver, and here, +supported with cords, he managed to keep his seat until they arrived at +Casinum. +</P> + +<P> +Owing to its position on the highroad, trodden by so many barbaric +armies, this city had suffered repeated devastation. Its great +buildings stood desolate, or had fallen to utter ruin, and the country +around, once famous for its fertility, showed but a few poor farms. +What inhabitants remained dwelt at the foot of the great hill on whose +summit rose the citadel, still united with the town by two great walls. +After passing between the tombs on the Latin Way, memorials of citizens +long dead, the travellers entered by an unprotected gateway, and here +Venantius called a halt. Wishing to make no longer pause than was +needful to put the sick man in safety, he despatched a few soldiers +through the silent town to seek for means of conveying Basil up to the +monastery on the height. By good luck these emissaries came upon a +couple of monks, who lost no time in arranging for the conveyance of +the sufferer. A light cart drawn by two mules speedily appeared, and on +this Basil was laid. One only of his men did Venantius allow to +accompany him, the others were bidden ride on with the captain's own +soldiers to Aesernia. +</P> + +<P> +'There you will find us all when you are on your legs again,' said +Venantius, 'unless by that time we have marched Romewards, in which +case you shall have a message. Trust me to look after all you left +there; I answer for its safety and for that of your good fellows. Keep +up heart, and God make you sound.' +</P> + +<P> +Basil, couched on a bed of dry leaves, raised himself so as to watch +the troop as it rode forth again from the ruined gate. Whether she who +sat hidden within the carriage had heard of his evil plight he knew +not, and could not have brought himself to ask. The last of his own +horsemen (some of whom had taken leave of him with tears) having +vanished from sight, he fell back, and for a while knew nothing but the +burning torment in his brain. +</P> + +<P> +The ascent of the mountain began. It was a rough, narrow road, winding +through a thick forest of oak and beech trees, here and there so steep +as to try the firm footing of the mules, and in places dangerous +because of broken ground on the edge of precipitous declivities. The +cart was driven by its owner, a peasant of Casinum, who at times sat +sideways on one of the beasts, at times walked by them; behind came the +two religious men, cowled, bare-footed; and last Basil's attendant on +horseback. +</P> + +<P> +From Venantius the monks had learned who their charge was. His noble +origin, and still more the fact of his kindred with their beloved Abbot +Benedict, inspired in them a special interest. They spoke of him in +whispers together, compassionated his sufferings, remarked on the +comeliness of his features, and assured each other that they detected +in him no symptom of the plague. It being now the third hour, they +ceased from worldly talk and together recited their office, whereto the +peasant and the horseman gave pious ear. +</P> + +<P> +Basil lay with closed eyes, but at a certain moment he seemed to become +aware of what was passing, crossed himself, and then folded his hands +upon his breast in the attitude of prayer. Having observed this, one of +the monks, his orisons finished, went up to the cart and spoke +comfortable words. He was a man in the prime of life, with cheek as +fresh as a maid's, and a step that seemed incapable of weariness; his +voice sounded a note of gentle kindness which caused the sufferer to +smile at him in gratitude. +</P> + +<P> +'This tree,' he said presently, pointing to a noble beech, its bole +engraven with a cross, 'marks the middle point of the ascent. A weary +climb for the weak, but not without profit to him who thinks as he +walks—for, as our dear brother Marcus has said, in those verses we are +never tired of repeating:— +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + "Semper difficili quaeruntur summa labore,<BR> + Arctam semper habet vita beata viam."'<BR> +</P> + +<P> +The other monk, an older man, who walked less vigorously, echoed the +couplet with slow emphasis, as if savouring every word. Then both +together, bowing their cowled heads, exclaimed fervently: +</P> + +<P> +'Thanks be to God for the precious gifts of our brother Marcus!' +</P> + +<P> +Basil endeavoured to utter a few words, but he was now so feeble that +he could scarce make his voice heard above the creak of the wheels. +Again he closed his eyes, and his companions pursued their way in +silence. When at length they issued from the forest they overlooked a +vast landscape of hill and valley, with heads of greater mountains high +above them. Here rose the walls of the citadel, within which Benedict +had built his monastery. For some distance around these ancient +ramparts the ground was tilled, and flourishing with various crops. At +the closed gateway of the old Arx, flanked by a tower, the monks rang, +and were at once admitted into the courtyard, where, in a few moments, +the prior and all his brethren came forward to greet the strangers. +Because of Basil's condition the ceremony usual on such arrivals was in +his case curtailed: the prior uttered a brief prayer, gave the kiss of +peace, and ordered forthwith the removal of the sick man to a +guest-chamber, where he was laid in bed and ministered to by the +brother Marcus, whose gifts as a healer were not less notable than his +skill in poesy. The horseman, meanwhile, as custom was with all +visitors, had been led to the oratory to hear a passage of Holy +Scripture; after which the prior poured water upon his hands, and +certain of the monks washed his feet. +</P> + +<P> +Before sunset Basil lost consciousness of present things; and many days +went by before he again spoke as a sane man. When at length the fever +declined, and his head turned upon the pillow in search of a human +countenance, he saw standing beside him a venerable figure in the +monastic garb, whose visage, though wrinkled with age and thought, had +such noble vividness in its look, and wore a smile so like that of +youth in its half-playful sweetness, that Basil could but gaze +wonderingly, awestruck at once, and charmed by this unexpected +apparition. +</P> + +<P> +'My son,' sounded in a voice grave and tender, 'be your first syllables +uttered to Him by whose omnipotent will you are restored to the life of +this world.' +</P> + +<P> +With the obedience of a child he clasped his thin hands, and murmured +the prayer of childhood. Then the gracious figure bent over him. He +felt the touch of lips upon his forehead, and in the same moment fell +asleep. +</P> + +<P> +It was night when he again woke. A little lamp revealed bare walls of +stone, a low, timbered ceiling, a floor of red tiles. Basil's eyes, as +soon as they were open, looked for the venerable figure which he +remembered. Finding no one, he thought the memory was but of a dream. +Feeling wonderfully at ease in body and calm in mind, he lay musing on +that vision of the noble countenance, doubting after all whether a +dream could have left so distinct an impression, when all at once there +fell upon his ear a far sound of chanting, a harmony so sweetly solemn +that it melted his heart and filled his eyes with tears. Not long +after, when all was silent again, he heard the sound of soft footsteps +without, and in the same moment the door of his cell opened. The face +which looked in seemed not quite unknown to him, though he could not +recall where he had seen it. +</P> + +<P> +'You have slept long, dear brother,' said Marcus, with a happy smile. +'Is all well with you?' +</P> + +<P> +'Well, God be thanked,' was the clear but faint reply. +</P> + +<P> +The poet-physician, a small, nervous, bright-eyed man of some forty +years, sat down on a stool by the bedside and began talking cheerfully. +He had just come from matins, and was this morning excused from lauds +because it behoved him to gather certain herbs, to be used medicinally +in the case of a brother who had fallen sick yesterday. Touching a +little gold locket which Basil wore round his neck on a gold thread he +asked what this contained, and being told that it was a morsel of the +Crown of Thorns, he nodded with satisfaction. +</P> + +<P> +'We questioned whether to leave it on you or not, for we could not open +it, and there was a fear lest it might contain something'—he smiled +and shook his bead and sighed—'much less sacred. The lord abbot, +doubtless'—here his voice sank—'after a vision, though of this he +spoke not, decided that it should be left. There was no harm, for all +that'—his eyes twinked merrily—'in tying this upon the place where +you suffered so grievously.' +</P> + +<P> +From amid Basil's long hair he detached what looked like a tiny skein +of hemp, which, with an air singularly blended of shrewdness and +reverence, he declared to be a portion of a garb of penitence worn by +the Holy Martin, to whom the oratory here was dedicated. Presently +Basil found strength to ask whether the abbot had been beside him. +</P> + +<P> +'Many times,' was the answer. 'The last, no longer ago than yestereve, +ere he went to compline. You would have seen him on the day of your +arrival, ere yet you became distraught, but that a heaviness lay upon +him because of the loss of a precious manuscript on its way hither from +Rome—a manuscript which had been procured for him after much +searching, only to be lost by the folly of one to whom it was +intrusted; if, indeed, it was not rather whisked away by the Evil One, +who, powerless for graver ill against our holy father, at times seeks +to discomfort him by small practice of spite. Sorrow for this loss +brought on a distemper to which his age is subject.' +</P> + +<P> +Reminded all at once that he had no time to lose, Marcus threw open the +shutter, extinguished the lamp, and slipped away, leaving his patient +with eyes turned to the pale glimmer of dawn at the tiny window. Now +only did there stir in Basil clear recollection of the events which had +preceded his coming hither. Marcus's sly word in regard to the locket +had awakened his mind, and in a few moments he thought connectedly. But +without emotion, unless it were a vague, tender sadness. All seemed to +have happened so long ago. It was like a story he had heard in days +gone by. He thought of it until his brain began to weary, then again +came sleep. +</P> + +<P> +A day or two passed. He had begun to eat with keen appetite, and his +strength increased hour by hour. On a Sunday, after the office of the +third hour, Marcus cheerily gave him permission to rise. This prompted +Basil to inquire whether his man, who had come with him, was still in +the monastery. Marcus, with eyes averted, gave a nod. Might he speak +with him, Basil asked. Presently, presently, was the answer. Marcus +himself aided the convalescent to dress; then having seated him in a +great chair of rude wickerwork, used only on occasions such as this, +left him to bask in a beam of sunshine. Before long, his meal was +brought him, and with it a book, bound in polished wood and metal, +which he found to be a Psalter. Herein, when he had eaten, he read for +an hour or so, not, however, without much wandering of the thoughts. He +had fallen into reverie, when his door opened, and there appeared +before him the Abbot Benedict. +</P> + +<P> +Basil started up, stood for a moment in agitation, then sank upon his +knees, with head reverently bowed. +</P> + +<P> +'Rise, rise, my son,' spoke the voice which had so moved him in his +vision of a week ago, a voice subdued by years, but perfectly steady +and distinct. 'Our good brother Marcus assures me that I may talk with +you a little while without fear of overtasking your strength—nay, sit +where you were, I pray you. Thanks be to God, I need not support for my +back.' +</P> + +<P> +So saying, the abbot seated himself on the stool, and gazed at Basil +with a smile of infinite benevolence. +</P> + +<P> +'Your face,' he continued, 'speaks to me of a time very far away. I see +in it the presentment of your father's father, with whom, when he was +much of your age, I often talked. His mother had a villa at Nursia, the +home of my youth. Once he turned aside from a journey to visit me when +I dwelt at Sublaqueum.' +</P> + +<P> +The reminiscence checked his tongue he kept silence for a moment, +musing gravely. +</P> + +<P> +'But these are old stories, my Basil, and you are young. Tell me +somewhat of your parents, and of your own life. Did not your good +father pass away whilst at Constantinople?' +</P> + +<P> +Thus, with perfect simplicity, with kindliest interest in things human, +did Benedict draw the young man into converse. He put no question that +touched on the inner life, and Basil uttered not a word concerning his +late distress, but they touched for a moment upon public affairs, and +Basil learnt, without show of special interest, that Totila still +lingered in Campania. +</P> + +<P> +'Your follower, Deodatus,' said the abbot presently, 'begs each day for +permission to see you. The good fellow has not lived in idleness; he is +a brave worker in wood, and by chance we much needed one of his craft. +Not many things of this world give me more pleasure than to watch a +cunning craftsman as he smooths timber, and fits the pieces together, +and makes of them something that shall serve the needs of men. Is it +not, in some sort, to imitate the great Artificer? Would, O Basil, that +our country had more makers and fewer who live but to destroy.' +</P> + +<P> +'Would it were so, indeed!' sighed Basil, in a low, fervent voice. +</P> + +<P> +'But the end is not yet,' pursued Benedict, his eyes gazing straight +before him, as if they beheld the future. 'Men shall pray for peace, +but it will not be granted them, so great are the iniquities of the +world which utters the name of Christ, yet knows Him not.' +</P> + +<P> +He paused with troubled brow. Then, as if reminding himself that his +hearer had need of more encouraging words, he said cheerfully: +</P> + +<P> +'To-morrow, perchance, you will have strength to leave your room. +Deodatus shall come to you in the morning. When you can walk so far, I +will pray you to visit me in my tower. You knew not that I inhabit a +tower? Even as the watchman who keeps guard over a city. And,' he added +more gravely, as if to himself rather than to the listener, 'God grant +that my watch be found faithful.' +</P> + +<P> +Thereupon the abbot rose, and gently took his leave; and Basil, through +all the rest of the day, thought of him and of every word he had +uttered. +</P> + +<P> +Not long after sunrise on the morrow, Deodatus was allowed to enter. +This man, whose age was something more than thirty, was the son of a +serf on Basil's land, and being of very peaceful disposition, had with +some reluctance answered the summons to arm himself and follow his lord +to the wars. Life in the monastery thoroughly suited his temper; when +Basil encouraged him to talk, he gave a delighted account of the way in +which his days were spent; spoke with simple joy of the many religious +services he attended, and had no words in which to express his devotion +to the abbot. +</P> + +<P> +'Why, Deodatus,' exclaimed his master, smiling, 'you lack but the cowl +to be a very monk.' +</P> + +<P> +'My duty is to my lord,' answered the man, bending his head. +</P> + +<P> +'Tell me now whether any news has reached you, in all this time, of +those from whom my sickness parted us.' +</P> + +<P> +But Deodatus had heard nothing of his fellows, and nothing of Venantius. +</P> + +<P> +'It may be,' said Basil, 'that I shall send you to tell them how I +fare, and to bring back tidings. Your horse is at hand?' +</P> + +<P> +As he spoke he detected a sadness on the man's countenance. Without +more words, he dismissed him. +</P> + +<P> +That day he sat in the open air, in a gallery whence he could survey a +great part of the monastic buildings, and much of the mountain summit +on its western side. For an hour he had the companionship of Marcus, +who, pointing to this spot and to that, instructed Basil in the history +of what he saw, now and then reciting his own verses on the subject. He +told how Benedict, seeking with a little company of pious followers for +a retreat from the evil of the world, came to ruined Casinum, and found +its few wretched inhabitants fallen away from Christ, worshipping the +old gods in groves and high places. Here, on the mountain top, stood +temples of Jupiter, of Apollo, and of Venus. The house of Apollo he +purified for Christian service, and set under the invocation of the +Holy Martin. The other temples he laid low, and having cut down the +grove sacred to Apollo, on that spot he raised an oratory in the name +of the Baptist. Not without much spiritual strife was all this +achieved; for—the good Marcus subdued his voice—Satan himself more +than once overthrew what the monks had built, and, together with the +demons whom Benedict had driven forth, often assailed the holy band +with terrors and torments. Had not the narrator, who gently boasted a +part in these beginnings, been once all but killed by a falling column, +which indeed must have crushed him, but that he stretched out a hand in +which, by happy chance, he was holding a hammer, and this—for a hammer +is cruciform—touching the great pillar, turned its fall in another +direction. Where stood the temple of Venus was now a vineyard, yielding +excellent wine. +</P> + +<P> +'Whereof, surely, you must not drink?' interposed Basil, with a smile. +</P> + +<P> +'Therein, good brother,' replied Marcus, 'you show but little knowledge +of our dear lord abbot. He indeed abstains from wine, for such has been +the habit of his life, but to us he permits it, for the stomach's sake; +being of opinion that labour is a form of worship, and well +understanding that labour, whether of body or of mind, can only be +performed by one in health. This very day you shall taste of our +vintage, which I have hitherto withheld from you, lest it should +overheat your languid blood.' +</P> + +<P> +Many other questions did Basil ask concerning the rule of the +monastery. He learned that the day was equitably portioned out (worship +apart) between manual and mental work. During summer, the cooler hours +of morning and afternoon were spent in the field, and the middle of the +day in study; winter saw this order reversed. On Sunday the monks +laboured not with their hands, and thought only of the Word of God. The +hours of the divine office suffered, of course, no change all the year +round: their number in the daytime was dictated by that verse of the +Psalmist: 'Septies in die laudem dixi tibi'; therefore did the +community assemble at lauds, at prime, at the third hour, at mid-day, +at the ninth hour, at vespers, and at compline. They arose, moreover, +for prayer at midnight, and for matins before dawn. On all this the +hearer mused when he was left alone, and with his musing blended a +sense of peace such as had never before entered into his heart. +</P> + +<P> +He had returned to his chamber, and was reposing on the bed, when there +entered one of the two monks by whom he was conveyed up the mountain. +With happy face, this visitor presented to him a new volume, which, he +declared with modest pride, was from beginning to end the work of his +own hand. +</P> + +<P> +'But an hour ago I finished the binding,' he added, stroking the +calf-skin affectionately. 'And when I laid it before the venerable +father, who is always indulgent to those who do their best, he was +pleased to speak kind things. "Take it to our noble guest," he said, +"that he may see how we use the hours God grants us. And it may be that +he would like to read therein."' +</P> + +<P> +The book was a beautiful copy of Augustine's <I>De Civitate Dei</I>. Basil +did indeed peruse a page or two, but again his thoughts began to +wander. He turned the leaves, looking with pleasure at the fine initial +letters in red ink. They reminded him of his cousin Decius, whom a +noble manuscript would transport with joy. And thought of Decius took +him back to Surrentum. He fell into a dream. +</P> + +<P> +On the morrow, at noon, he was well enough to descend to the refectory, +where he had a seat at the abbot's table. His meal consisted of a roast +pigeon, a plate of vegetables, honey and grapes, with bread which +seemed to him better than he had ever tasted, and wine whereof his +still weak head bade him partake very modestly. The abbot's dinner, he +saw, was much simpler: a bowl of milk, a slice of bread, and a couple +of figs. After the kindly greeting with which he was received, there +was no conversation, for a monk read aloud during the repast. Basil +surveyed with interest the assembly before him. Most of the faces +glowed with health, and on all was manifest a simple contentment such +as he had hitherto seen only in the eyes of children. Representatives +were here of every social rank, but the majority belonged to honourable +families: high intelligence marked many countenances, but not one +showed the shadow of anxious or weary thought. +</P> + +<P> +These are men, said Basil to himself, who either have never known the +burden of life, or have utterly cast it off; they live without a care, +without a passion. And then there suddenly flashed upon his mind what +seemed an all-sufficient explanation of this calm, this happiness. Here +entered no woman. Woman's existence was forgotten, alike by young and +old; or, if not forgotten, had lost all its earthly taint, as in the +holy affection (of which Marcus had spoken to him) cherished by the +abbot for his pious sister Scholastica. Here, he clearly saw, was the +supreme triumph of the religious life. But, instead of quieting, the +thought disturbed him. He went away thinking thoughts which he would +fain have kept at a distance. +</P> + +<P> +The ninth hour found him in the oratory, and later he attended vespers, +at which office the monks sang an evening hymn of the holy Ambrosius:— +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + 'O lux, beata Trinitas, et principalis Uuitas,<BR> + Jam sol recedit igneus; infunde lumen cordibus.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + Te mane laudum carmine, te deprecemur vesperi,<BR> + Te nostra supplex gloria per cuncta laudet saecula.'<BR> +</P> + +<P> +The long sweet notes lingered in Basil's mind when he lay down to rest. +And, as he crossed himself before sleeping, the only prayer he breathed +was: '<I>Infunde lumen cordi meo</I>.' +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap25"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXV +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE ABBOT'S TOWER +</H3> + +<P> +On the morrow he rose earlier, talking the while with his servant +Deodatus. This good fellow continued to exhibit so deep an affection +for the life of the monastery that Basil was at length moved to ask him +whether, if he had the choice, he would veritably become a monk. +Deodatus looked at his master with eyes of pathetic earnestness, tried +in vain to speak, and burst into tears. Instructed by a vocation so +manifest, Basil began to read more clearly in his own heart, where, in +spite of the sorrows he had borne and of the troublous uncertainties +that lay before him, he found no such readiness to quit the world. He +could approve the wisdom of those who renounced the flesh, to be +rewarded with tranquillity on earth and eternal happiness hereafter; +but his will did not ally itself with his intellect. Moreover, was it +certain, he asked himself, that all who embraced the religious life +were so rewarded? In turning the pages of Augustine's work, he had come +upon a passage which arrested his eye and perturbed his thought, a +passage which seemed clearly to intimate that the soul's eternal +destiny had from the beginning of things been decided by God, some men +being created for bliss, more for damnation. Basil did not dwell +profoundly on this doubt; his nature inclined not at all to theological +scrutiny, nor to spiritual brooding; but it helped to revive in him the +energies which sickness had abated, and to throw him back on that +simple faith, that Christianity of everyday, in which he had grown up. +</P> + +<P> +Going forth in the mellow sunshine, he turned his steps to a garden of +vegetables where he saw monks at work. They gave him gentle greeting, +and one, he who had brought the volume yesterday, announced that the +abbot invited Basil to visit him after the office of the third hour. +Thereupon all worked in silence, he watching them. +</P> + +<P> +When the time came, he was conducted to the abbot's dwelling, which was +the tower beside the ancient gateway of the Arx. It contained but two +rooms, one above the other; below, the founder of the monastery studied +and transacted business; in the upper chamber he prayed and slept. +When, in reply to his knock at the study door, the voice, now familiar, +but for that no less impressive, bade him come forward, Basil felt his +heart beat quickly; and when he stood alone in that venerable presence, +all his new-born self-confidence fell away from him. Beholding the aged +man seated at a table on which lay books, amid perfect stillness, in +the light from a large window; before him a golden cross, and, on +either side of it, a bowl of sweet-scented flowers; he seemed only now +to remember that this was that Benedict whose fame had gone forth into +many lands, whose holiness already numbered him with the blessed saints +rather than with mortal men, of whom were recounted things miraculous. +Looking upon that face, which time touched only to enhance its calm, +only to make yet purer its sweet humanity, he felt himself an idle and +wanton child, and his entrance hither a profanation. +</P> + +<P> +'Come and sit by me, son Basil,' said the abbot. 'I am at leisure, and +shall be glad to hear you speak of many things. Tell me first, do you +love reading?' +</P> + +<P> +Basil answered with simple truth, that of late years he had scarce read +at all, his inclination being rather to the active life. +</P> + +<P> +'So I should have surmised. But chancing to look from my upper window +not long after sunrise, I saw you walking with a book in your hand. +What was it?' +</P> + +<P> +Basil murmured that it was the Book of Psalms. +</P> + +<P> +'Look, then,' said Benedict, 'at what lies before me. Here is a +commentary on that book, written by the learned and pious Cassiodorus; +written in the religious house which he himself has founded, upon the +shore of "ship-wrecking Scylaceum," as saith Virgilius. Not a week ago +it came into my hands, a precious gift from the writer, and I have read +much in it. On the last of his many journeys, travelling from Ravenna +to the south, he climbed hither, and sojourned with us for certain +days, and great was my solace in the communing we had together. +Perchance you knew him in the world?' +</P> + +<P> +Gladly Basil recounted his memories of the great counsellor. And the +abbot listened with an attentive smile. +</P> + +<P> +'I marvel not that you loved him. Reading in these pages, I am +delighted by the graces of his mind, and taught by the sanctity of his +spirit. At the very beginning, how sweetly does his voice sound. +Listen. "Trusting in the Lord's command, I knock at the doors of the +heavenly mystery, that He may open to my understanding His flowery +abodes, and that, permitted to enter the celestial garden, I may pluck +spiritual fruit without the sin of the first man. Verily this book +shines like a lamp; it is the salve of a wounded spirit, sweet as honey +to the inner man. So much hath it of beauty for the senses, such +healing in its balmy words, that to it may be applied the words of +Solomon: 'A closed garden, and a fountain sealed, a paradise abounding +in all fruits.' For if Paradise be deemed desirable because it is +watered by the delightful flow of four rivers, how much more blessed is +the mind which is refreshed by the founts of one hundred and fifty +psalms!"' +</P> + +<P> +Basil scarce heeded the sense of the passage read to him. He could hear +only the soft music of the aged voice, which lulled him into a calm +full of faith and trust. +</P> + +<P> +'Is not this better,' asked Benedict gently, whilst his eyes searched +the young man's countenance, 'than to live for the service of kings, +and to utter worldly counsel?' +</P> + +<P> +'Better far, I cannot doubt,' Basil replied with humility. +</P> + +<P> +'Utter the rest of your thought,' said the abbot, smiling. 'You cannot +doubt—and yet? Utter your mind to me, dear son.' +</P> + +<P> +'My father, I obey you, desiring indeed with all my soul to seek your +guidance. My heart has been too much in this world, and for one thought +given to things eternal, I have bestowed a hundred upon my own sorrows, +and on those of Italy.' +</P> + +<P> +His voice faltered, his head drooped. +</P> + +<P> +'I say not,' murmured the listener, 'that you do wrong to love your +country.' +</P> + +<P> +'Holy father, I were a hypocrite if I spoke of my country first of all. +For all but a year gone by, another love has possessed me. Forgive me +that I dare to speak such a word before you.' +</P> + +<P> +The abbot turned his eyes to the window. Upon the sill had settled two +doves, which seemed to regard him curiously. He made a soft gesture +with his hand, and the birds flew away. +</P> + +<P> +'Speak on,' he said after brief reflection, and with the same +indulgence. 'He who tells all speaks not to man but to God.' +</P> + +<P> +And Basil told all; told it with humble simplicity, with entire +truthfulness, recounting his history from the day when he first beheld +Veranilda to the dreadful hour when Marcian's blood stained his hands. +He began in calm, but the revival of emotions which had slept during +his sickness and his convalescence soon troubled him profoundly. Not +only did the dormant feelings wake up again, but things which he had +forgotten rushed into his memory. So, when he came to the last +interview with Veranilda, he remembered, for the first time since that +day, what he had said to her, and the recollection dismayed him. He +burst into tears, overwhelmed at once with misery and shame. +</P> + +<P> +'It may be,' he sobbed, 'that she was innocent. Suffering had driven me +mad, and I uttered words such as never should have passed my lips. If +she is guiltless, there lives no baser man than I. For I reproached +her—my father, how you will scorn me!—I cast at her in reproach her +father's treachery.' +</P> + +<P> +The abbot's brow rested upon his hand. It was thus he had listened, +unmoving, throughout the story; nor did he now stir, until Basil, +having ceased alike from speaking and from tears, had sat for a little +while in stillness and reflection. Then at length he turned his eyes +upon the young man, and spoke with sad gravity. +</P> + +<P> +'Even so, even so. You gave your heart to a woman, and worshipped at +her feet, and behold there has come upon you the guilt of blood. Not, +you would protest, through your own fault; your friend was false to +you, and in just wrath you slew him. Who made you, O Basil, his judge +and his executioner?' +</P> + +<P> +'Father, I seek not to excuse my sin.' +</P> + +<P> +'It is well. And what penance will you lay upon yourself?' +</P> + +<P> +Utterly subdued by awe, oblivious of his own will in the presence of +one so much more powerful, Basil murmured that whatever penance the man +of God saw fit to impose that would he perform. +</P> + +<P> +'Nay,' said Benedict gently, 'that is too like presumption. Say rather, +you would endeavour to perform it. I will believe that if I bade you +fast long, or repeat many prayers, you would punctually obey me. But +what if I demanded of you that against which not only your flesh, but +all the motive of your life, rebelled? It were not too much; yet dare +you promise to achieve it?' +</P> + +<P> +Basil looked up fearfully, and answered with tremulous lips: +</P> + +<P> +'Not in my own strength; but perchance with the help of God.' +</P> + +<P> +A grave smile passed over Benedict's countenance. +</P> + +<P> +'It is well, my son; again, it is well. Come now, and let us reason of +this your sin. You avow to me that God and His commands have ever been +little in your mind, whereas you have thought much of this world and +its governance. I might ask you how it is possible to reflect on the +weal and woe of human kind without taking count of Him who made the +world and rules it; but let me approach you with a narrower inquiry. +You tell me that you love your country, and desire its peace. How comes +it, then, that you are numbered with the violent, the lawless, with +those who renounce their citizenship and dishonour the State? Could not +all your worldly meditations preserve you from so gross an incoherence +of thought and action?' +</P> + +<P> +'Indeed, it should have done.' +</P> + +<P> +'And would, perchance, had not your spleen overcome your reason. Why, +that is the case, O Basil, of all but every man who this day calls +himself a Roman citizen. Therefore is it that Italy lies under the +wrath of the Most High. Therefore is it that Rome has fallen, and that +the breath of pestilence, the sword of the destroyer, yea, earthquake +and flood and famine, desolate the land. Yet you here find little time, +my son, to meditate the laws of God, being so busied for the welfare of +men. Methinks your story has aimed a little wide.' +</P> + +<P> +Basil bent low before this gentle irony, which softened his heart. The +abbot mused a moment, gazing upon the golden cross. +</P> + +<P> +'In the days of old,' he continued, 'Romans knew how to subdue their +own desires to the good of their country. He who, in self-seeking, +wronged the State, was cast forth from its bosom. Therefore was it that +Rome grew mighty, the Omnipotent fostering her for ends which the +fulness of time should disclose. Such virtue had our ancestors, even +though they worshipped darkly at the altars of daemons. But from that +pride they fell, for their hearts were hardened; and, at length, when +heathendom had wellnigh destroyed the principle whereby they waxed, God +revealed Himself unto His chosen, that ancient virtue and new faith +might restore the world. To turn your thought upon these things, I sent +you the book written long ago by the holy father Augustine, concerning +the Divine State. Have you read in it?' +</P> + +<P> +'Some little,' answered Basil, 'but with wandering mind.' +</P> + +<P> +'Therein you will discover, largely expounded, these reasonings I do +but touch upon. I would have you trace God's working in the past, and, +by musing upon what now is, ripen yourself in that citizenship whereon +you have prided yourself, though you neither understood its true +meaning nor had the strength to perform its duties. Losing sight of the +Heavenly City for that which is on earth, not even in your earthly +service were you worthy of the name of Roman; and, inasmuch as you +wronged the earthly Rome, even so did you sin against that Eternal +State of the Supreme Lord whereof by baptism you were made a citizen. +By such as you, O Basil, is the anger of our God prolonged, and lest +you should think that, amid a long and bloody war, amid the trampling +of armies, the fall of cities, one death more is of no account, I say +to you that, in the eyes of the All-seeing, this deed of yours may be +of heavier moment than the slaughter of a battlefield. From your own +lips it is manifest that you had not even sound assurance of the guilt +you professed to punish. It may be that the man had not wronged you as +you supposed. A little patience, a little of the calm which becomes a +reasoning soul, and you might not only have saved yourself from crime, +but have resolved what must now ever be a doubt to your harassed +thoughts.' +</P> + +<P> +'Such words did Veranilda herself speak,' exclaimed Basil. 'And I, in +my frenzy, thought them only a lamentation for the death of her lover.' +</P> + +<P> +'Call it frenzy; but remember, O my son, that no less a frenzy was +every act of your life, and every thought, which led you on the path to +that ultimate sin. Frenzy it is to live only for the flesh; frenzy, to +imagine that any good can come of aught you purpose without beseeching +the divine guidance.' +</P> + +<P> +Much else did the abbot utter in this vein of holy admonition. And +Basil would have listened with the acquiescence of a perfect faith, but +that there stirred within him the memory of what he had read in +Augustine's pages, darkening his spirit. At length he found courage to +speak of this, and asked in trembling tones: +</P> + +<P> +'Am I one of those born to sin and to condemnation? Am I of those +unhappy beings who strive in vain against a doom predetermined by the +Almighty?' +</P> + +<P> +Benedict's countenance fell; not as if in admission of a dread +possibility, but rather as in painful surprise. +</P> + +<P> +'You ask me,' he answered solemnly, after a pause, 'what no man should +ask even when he communes with his own soul in the stillness of night. +The Gospel is preached to all; nowhere in the word of God are any +forbidden to hear it, or, hearing, to accept its solace. Think not upon +that dark mystery, which even to the understandings God has most +enlightened shows but as a formless dread. The sinner shall not brood +upon his sin, save to abhor it. Shall he who repents darken repentance +with a questioning of God's mercy? Then indeed were there no such thing +as turning from wrong to righteousness.' +</P> + +<P> +'When I sent you that book,' he resumed, after observing the relief +that came to Basil's face, 'I had in mind only its salutary teaching +for such as live too much in man's world, and especially for those who, +priding themselves upon the name of Roman, are little given to +reflection upon all the evil Rome has wrought. Had I known what lay +upon your conscience, I should have withheld from you everything but +Holy Writ.' +</P> + +<P> +'My man, Deodatus, had not spoken?' asked Basil. +</P> + +<P> +'Concerning you, not a word. I did not permit him to be questioned, and +his talk has been only of his own sins.' +</P> + +<P> +Basil wondered at this discretion in a simple rustic; yet, on a second +thought, found it consistent with the character of Deodatus, as lately +revealed to him. +</P> + +<P> +'He has been long your faithful attendant?' inquired the abbot. +</P> + +<P> +'Not so. Only by chance was he chosen from my horsemen to accompany me +hither. My own servant, Felix, being wounded, lay behind at Aesernia.' +</P> + +<P> +'If he be as honest and God-fearing as this man,' said Benedict, 'whose +name, indeed, seems well to become him, then are you fortunate in those +who tend upon you. But of this and other such things we will converse +hereafter. Listen now, son Basil, to my bidding. You have abstained +from the Table of the Lord, and it is well. Today, and every day until +I again summon you, you will read aloud in privacy the Seven +Penitential Psalms, slowly and with meditation; and may they grave +themselves in your heart, to remain there, a purification and a hope, +whilst you live.' +</P> + +<P> +Basil bowed his head, and whispered obedience. +</P> + +<P> +'Moreover, so far as your strength will suffer it, you shall go daily +into the garden or the field, and there work with the brethren. Alike +for soul and for body it is good to labour under God's sky, and above +all to till God's earth and make it fruitful. For though upon Adam, in +whom we all died, was laid as a punishment that he should eat only that +which he had planted in the sweat of his brow, yet mark, O Basil, that +the Creator inflicts no earthly punishment which does not in the end +bear fruit of healing and of gladness. What perfume is so sweet as that +of the new-turned soil? And what so profitable to health? When the +Romans of old time began to fall from virtue—such virtue as was +permitted to those who knew not God—the first sign of their evil state +was the forgotten plough. And never again can Italy be blessed—if it +be the will of the Almighty that peace be granted her—until valley and +mountain side and many-watered plain are rich with her children's +labour. I do not bid you live in silence, for silence is not always a +good counsellor; but refrain from merely idle speech, and strive, O +Basil, strive with all the force that is in you, that your thoughts be +turned upward. Go now, my son. It shall not be long before I again call +you to my tower.' +</P> + +<P> +So, with a look of kindness which did not soften to a smile, Benedict +dismissed his penitent. When the door had closed, he sat for a few +minutes with head bent, then roused himself, glanced at the clepsydra +which stood in a corner of the room, and turned a page or two of the +volume lying before him. Presently his attention was caught by the +sound of fluttering wings; on the window sill had again alighted the +two doves, and again they seemed to regard him curiously. The aged face +brightened with tenderness. +</P> + +<P> +'Welcome,' he murmured, 'ye whose love is innocent.' +</P> + +<P> +From a little bag that lay on the table he drew grains, and scattered +them on the floor. The doves flew down and ate, and, as he watched +them, Benedict seemed to forget all the sorrows of the world. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap26"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXVI +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +VIVAS IN DEO +</H3> + +<P> +The telling of his story was to Basil like waking from a state of +imperfect consciousness in which dream and reality had +indistinguishably mingled. Since the fight with the brigands he had +never been himself; the fever in his blood made him incapable of wonted +thought or action; restored to health, he looked back upon those days +with such an alien sense that he could scarce believe he had done the +things he related. Only now did their move in him a natural horror when +he thought of the death of Marcian, a natural distress when he +remembered his bearing to Veranilda. Only now could he see in the light +of reason all that had happened between his talk with Sagaris at +Aesernia and his riding away with Venantius from the villa on the +island. As he unfolded the story, he marvelled at himself, and was +overcome with woe. +</P> + +<P> +There needed not the words of the holy abbot to show him how blindly he +had acted. He could see now that, however it might appear, the guilt of +Marcian was quite unproved. The Syrian slave might have lied, or else +have uttered a mistaken suspicion. It might be true that Marcian had +been misled by some calumniator into thinking evil of his friend. And +had he not heard the declaration of Veranilda, that she had suffered no +wrong at his hands? Basil saw the face of his beloved. Only a man +possessed by the Evil Spirit could have answered her as he had done. +Was not the fact that Marcian had brought Veranilda to his villa in +order to give her into the hands of Totila sufficient proof that he had +neither wronged her nor meditated wrong? Ay, but Basil reminded himself +that he had accused Veranilda of amorous complicity with Marcian. And +at this recollection his brain whirled. +</P> + +<P> +Even were it permitted him ever to behold her again, how could he stand +before her? Must she not abhor him, as one whose baseness surpassed all +she had thought possible in the vilest slave? Jealousy was pardonable; +in its rage, a man might slay and be forgiven. But for the reproach +with which he had smitten her—her, pure and innocent—there could be +no forgiveness. It was an act of infamy, branding him for ever. +</P> + +<P> +Thoughts such as these intermingled with his reading of the Psalms of +penitence. Ever and again grief overwhelmed him, and he wept bitterly. +At the hour of the evening meal, he would willingly have remained in +his cell, to fast and mourn alone; but this, he felt, would have been +to shirk part of his penance; for, though the brothers knew not of his +sin, he could not meet their eyes for shame, and such humiliation must +needs be salutary. This evening other guests sat at the abbot's table, +and he shrank from their notice, for though they were but men of humble +estate, pilgrims from Lucania, he felt debased before them. The +reading, to which all listened during their meal, was selected from +that new volume of Cassiodorus so esteemed by the abbot; it closed with +a prayer in which Basil found the very utterance his soul needed. +</P> + +<P> +'O Lord, our Teacher and Guide, our Advocate and Judge, Thou the +Bestower and the Admonitor, terrible and clement, Rebuker and Consoler, +who givest sight to the blind, who makest possible to the weak that +which Thou commandest, who art so good that Thou desirest to be for +ever petitioned, so merciful that Thou sufferest no one to despair; +grant us that which we ask with Thy approval, and yet more that which +in our ignorance we fail to beseech. How weak we are, Thou indeed +knowest; by what a foe we are beset, Thou art aware. In the unequal +contest, in our mortal infirmity, we turn to Thee, for it is the glory +of Thy Majesty when the meek sheep overcomes the roaring lion, when the +Evil Spirit is repulsed by feeble flesh. Grant that our enemy, who +rejoices in our offending, may be saddened by the sight of human +happiness. Amen.' +</P> + +<P> +He rose, for the first time, to attend the midnight office, Deodatus, +who was punctual as a monk at all the hours, awaking him from sleep. +But Marcus whispered an admonishing word. +</P> + +<P> +'I praise your zeal, good brother; nevertheless, as your physician, I +cannot suffer your night's rest to be broken. Descend for lauds, if you +will, but not earlier.' +</P> + +<P> +Basil bowed in obedience. Lauds again saw him at prayer. Hitherto, when +they were together in the oratory, it had been the habit of Deodatus to +kneel behind his master; this morning Basil placed himself by his +servant's side. They walked away together in the pearly light of dawn, +and Basil led the way to a sequestered spot, whence there was a view +over the broad valley of the Liris. Several times of late he had come +here, to gaze across the mountainous landscape, wondering where +Veranilda might be. Turning to his companion, he laid a hand on the +man's shoulder, and addressed him in a voice of much gentleness. +</P> + +<P> +'Did you leave nothing behind you, Deodatus, which would make the +thought of never returning to your home a sorrow?' +</P> + +<P> +'Nothing, my dear lord,' was the reply. 'In my lifetime I have seen +much grief and little solace. All I loved are dead.' +</P> + +<P> +'But you are young. Could you without a pang say farewell to the world?' +</P> + +<P> +Deodatus answered timidly: +</P> + +<P> +'Here is peace.' +</P> + +<P> +Continuing to question, Basil learnt that for this man the life of the +world was a weariness and a dread. Hardships of many kinds had +oppressed him from childhood; his was a meek soul, which had no place +amid the rudeness and violence of the times; from the first hour, the +cloistered life had cast a spell upon him. +</P> + +<P> +'Here is peace,' he repeated. 'Here one can forget everything but to +worship God. Could I remain here, I were the happiest of men.' +</P> + +<P> +And Basil mused, understanding, approving, yet unable to utter the same +words for himself. His eyes strayed towards the far valley, shimmering +in earliest daylight. He, too, had he not suffered dread things whilst +living in the world? And could he expect that life in the future would +be more kindly to him? None the less did his heart yearn for that +valley of human tribulation. He struggled to subdue it. +</P> + +<P> +'Deodatus, pray for me, that I may have strength to do that which I see +to be the best.' +</P> + +<P> +It was no forced humility. Very beautiful in Basil's eyes showed the +piety and calm which here surrounded him, and his reverence for the +founder of this house of peace fell little short of that with which he +regarded the Saints in heaven. Never before—unless it were at certain +moments when conversing with the Lady Silvia—had he felt the +loveliness of a life in which religion was supreme; and never, +assuredly, had there stirred within him a spirit so devout. He longed +to attain unto righteousness, that entire purity of will, which, it now +seemed to him, could be enjoyed only in monastic seclusion. All his +life he had heard praise of those who renounced the world; but their +merit had been to him a far-off, uncomprehended thing, without relation +to himself. Now he understood. A man, a sinner, it behoved him before +all else to chasten his soul that he might be pleasing unto God; and +behold the way! For one who had sinned so grievously, it might well be +that there was no other path of salvation. +</P> + +<P> +This morning he went forth with the monks to labour. Brother Marcus +conducted him to a plot of garden ground where there was light work to +be done, and there left him. Willingly did Basil set about this task, +which broke the monotony of the day, and, more than that, was in itself +agreeable to him. He had always found pleasure in the rustic life, and +of late, at his Asculan villa, had often wished he could abide in quiet +for the rest of his days amid the fields and the vineyards. Working in +the mellow sunlight, above him the soft blue sky of early autumn, and +all around the silence of mountain and of forest, he felt his health +renew itself. When the first drops of sweat stood upon his forehead he +wiped them away with earthy fingers, and the mere action—he knew not +why—gave him pleasure. +</P> + +<P> +But of a sudden he became aware that he had lost something. From the +little finger of his left hand had slipped his signet ring. It must +have fallen since he began working, and anxiously he searched for it +about the ground. Whilst he was thus occupied, Marcus came towards him, +carrying a great basket of vegetables. Not without diffidence, Basil +told what had happened. +</P> + +<P> +'You will rebuke me, holy brother, for heeding such a loss. But the +ring is very old; it has been worn by many of my ancestors, to them it +came, and from one who suffered martyrdom in the times of Diocletian.' +</P> + +<P> +'Then, indeed, I did well,' replied Marcus, 'to leave it on your finger +during your sickness. I looked at it and saw that it was a Christian +seal. Had it been one of those which are yet seen too often, with the +stamp of a daemon, I should have plucked it off, and perhaps have +destroyed it. The ring of a blessed martyr I Let us seek, let us seek! +But, brother Basil,' he added gravely, 'has there passed through your +heart no evil thought? I like not this falling of the ring.' +</P> + +<P> +Basil held up his wasted hand with a smile. +</P> + +<P> +'True, true; you have lost flesh. Be thankful for it, dear brother; so +much the easier you combat with him whose ally is this body of death. +True, the ring may have fallen simply because your finger was so thin. +But be warned, O Basil, against that habit of mind which interprets in +an earthly sense things of divine meaning.' +</P> + +<P> +'I had indeed let my thoughts dwell upon worldliness,' Basil admitted. +</P> + +<P> +The monk smiled a satisfied reproof. +</P> + +<P> +'Even so, even so! And look you! In the moment of your avowal my hand +falls upon the ring.' +</P> + +<P> +Rejoicing together, they inspected it. In the gold was set an onyx, +graven with the monogram of Christ, a wreath, and the motto, 'Vivas in +Deo.' Marcus knelt, and pressed the seal to his forehead, murmuring +ecstatically: +</P> + +<P> +'The ring of a blessed martyr!' +</P> + +<P> +'I am all unworthy to wear it,' said Basil, sincerely hesitating to +replace it on his finger. 'Indeed, I will not do so until I have spoken +with the holy father.' +</P> + +<P> +This resolve Marcus commended, and, with a kindly word, he went his +way. Basil worked on. To discipline his thoughts he kept murmuring, +'Vivas in Deo,' and reflecting upon the significance of the words; for, +often as he had seen them, he had never till now mused upon their +meaning. What was the life in God I Did it mean that of the world to +come? Ay, but how attain unto eternal blessedness save by striving to +anticipate on earth that perfection of hereafter? And so was he brought +again to the conclusion that, would he assure life eternal, he must +renounce all that lured him in mortality. +</P> + +<P> +The brothers returning from the field at the third hour signalled to +him that for to-day he had worked enough. One of them, in passing, gave +him a smile, and said good-naturedly: +</P> + +<P> +'Thou shalt eat the labour of thine hands; happy shalt thou be, and it +shall be well with thee.' +</P> + +<P> +Weary, but with the sense of healthful fatigue, Basil rested for an +hour on his bed. He then took the Psalter and opened it at hazard, and +the first words his eyes fell upon were: +</P> + +<P> +'Thou shalt eat the labour of thine hands; happy shalt thou be, and it +shall be well with thee.' +</P> + +<P> +'A happy omen,' he thought. But stay; what was this that followed? +</P> + +<P> +'Thy wife shall be as a fruitful vine by the sides of thine house; thy +children like olive plants round about thy table. +</P> + +<P> +'Behold, thus shall the man be blessed that feareth the Lord.' +</P> + +<P> +The blood rushed into his cheeks. He sat staring at the open page as +though in astonishment. He read and re-read the short psalm of which +these verses were part, and if a voice had spoken it to him from above +he could scarce have felt more moved by the message. Basil had never +been studious of the Scriptures, and, if ever he had known that they +contained such matter as this, it had quite faded from his memory. He +thought of the Holy Book as hostile to every form of earthly happiness, +its promises only for those who lived to mortify their natural desires. +Yet here was the very word of God encouraging him in his heart's hope. +Were not men wont to use the Bible as their oracle, opening the pages +at hazard, even as he had done? +</P> + +<P> +It was long before he could subdue his emotions so as to turn to the +reading imposed upon him. He brought himself at length into the fitting +mind by remembering that this wondrous promise was not for a sinner, a +murderer; and that only could he hope to merit such blessing if he had +truly repented, and won forgiveness. Stricken down by this reflection +he grew once more humble and sad. +</P> + +<P> +In the afternoon, as he was pacing alone in a little portico near the +abbot's tower, the prior approached him. This reverend man had hitherto +paid little or no attention to Basil. He walked ever with eyes cast +down as if in deep musing, yet it was well known that he observed +keenly, and that his duties to the community were discharged with +admirable zeal and competence. In the world he would have been a great +administrator. In the monastery he seemed to find ample scope for his +powers, and never varied from the character of a man who set piety and +learning above all else. Drawing nigh to Basil he greeted him gently, +and asked whether it would give him pleasure to see the copyists at +work. Basil gladly accepted this invitation, and was conducted to a +long, well-lit room, where, at great desks, sat some five or six of the +brothers, each bent over a parchment which would some day form portion +of a volume, writing with slow care, with the zeal of devotees and with +the joy of artists. Not a whisper broke upon the silence in which the +pen-strokes alone were audible. Stepping softly, the prior led his +companion from desk to desk, drawing attention, without a word, to the +nature of the book which in each case was being copied. It surprised +Basil to see that the monks busied themselves in reproducing not only +religious works but also the writings of authors who had lived in pagan +times, and of this he spoke when the prior had led him forth again. +</P> + +<P> +'Have you then been taught,' asked the prior, 'that it is sinful to +read Virgil and Statius, Livy and Cicero?' +</P> + +<P> +'Not so, reverend father,' he replied modestly, his eyes falling before +the good-humoured gaze. 'But I was so ill instructed as to think that +to those who had withdrawn from the world it might not be permitted.' +</P> + +<P> +'Father Hieronymus had no such misgiving,' said the prior, 'for he +himself, at Bethlehem, taught children to read the ancient poets; not +unmindful that the blessed Paul himself, in those writings which are +the food of our spirit, takes occasion to cite from more than one poet +who knew not Christ. If you would urge the impurity and idolatry which +deface so many pages of the ancients, let me answer you in full with a +brief passage of the holy Augustine. "For," says he, "as the Egyptians +had not only idols to be detested by Israelites, but also precious +ornaments of gold and silver, to be carried off by them in flight, so +the science of the Gentiles is not only composed of superstitions to be +abhorred, but of liberal arts to be used in the service of truth."' +</P> + +<P> +They walked a short distance without further speech, then the prior +stopped. +</P> + +<P> +'Many there are,' he said, with a gesture indicating the world below, +'who think that we flee the common life only for our souls' salvation. +So, indeed, it has been in former times, and God forbid that we should +speak otherwise than with reverence of those who abandoned all and +betook themselves to the desert that they might live in purity and +holiness. But to us, by the grace bestowed upon our holy father, has +another guidance been shown. Know, my son, that, in an evil time, we +seek humbly to keep clear, not for ourselves only, but for all men, the +paths of righteousness and of understanding. With heaven's blessing we +strive to preserve what else might utterly perish, to become not only +guardians of God's law but of man's learning.' +</P> + +<P> +Therewith did the prior take his leave, and Basil pondered much on what +he had heard. It was a new light to him, for, as his instructor +suspected, he shared the common view of coenobite aims, and still but +imperfectly understood the law of Benedict. All at once the life of +this cloister appeared before him in a wider and nobler aspect. In the +silent monks bent over their desks he saw much more than piety and +learning. They rose to a dignity surpassing that of consul or praefect. +With their pens they warred against the powers of darkness, a grander +conflict than any in which men drew sword. He wished he could talk of +this with his cousin Decius, for Decius knew so much more than he, and +could look so much deeper into the sense of things. +</P> + +<P> +Days passed. Not yet did he receive a summons to the abbot's tower. +Rapidly recovering strength, he worked long in the fields, and +scrupulously performed his penitential exercises. Only, when he had +finished his daily reading of the appointed psalms, he turned to that +which begins: 'Blessed is every one that feareth the Lord, that walketh +in His ways.' How could he err in dwelling upon the word of God? One +day, as he closed the book, his heart was so full of a strange, +half-hopeful, half-fearful longing, that it overflowed in tears; and +amid his weeping came a memory of Marcian, a tender memory of the days +of their friendship: for the first time he bewailed the dead man as one +whom he had dearly loved. +</P> + +<P> +Then there sounded a knock at the door of his cell. Commanding himself, +and turning away so as to hide his face, he bade enter. +</P> + +<P> +And, looking up, he beheld his servant Felix. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap27"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXVII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE KING OF THE GOTHS +</H3> + +<P> +Transported from grief to joy, Basil sprang forward and clasped Felix +in his arms. +</P> + +<P> +'God be thanked,' he exclaimed, 'that I see you alive and well! Whence +come you? What is your news?' +</P> + +<P> +With his wonted grave simplicity, Felix told that he had long since +recovered from the effects of the wound, but had remained at Aesernia, +unable to obtain permission to go in search of his master. The Gothic +army was now advancing along the Via Latina; Basil's followers were +united with the troop under Venantius; and on their arrival at Casinum, +Felix succeeded in getting leave to climb to the monastery. He had been +assured that his lord had recovered health, and was still sojourning +with the holy men; but by whom this news had been brought he could not +say. Doubtless Venantius had held communication with the monastery. +</P> + +<P> +'And you are here alone?' asked Basil, fearing still to utter the +question which was foremost in his mind. +</P> + +<P> +'Alone of my lord's men. I followed those that came with the king.' +</P> + +<P> +'The king? Totila is here?' +</P> + +<P> +'It was rumoured,' replied Felix, in a reverent voice, 'that he desired +to speak of deep matters with the holy Benedict. They are even now +conversing.' +</P> + +<P> +Basil fell into a great agitation. Absorbed in his private griefs, and +in thoughts of eternity, he had all but forgotten the purpose with +which he crossed the Apennines at the summons of Marcian. The name of +Totila revived his interest in the progress of the war, but at the same +time struck his heart with a chill misgiving. With what eyes would the +king regard Marcian's slayer? Was he more likely to pardon the deed if +he knew (as assuredly he must) that it was done in jealous love of +Veranilda? The words he had not dared to speak leapt to his lips. +</P> + +<P> +'Felix, know you anything of the Gothic lady—of her whom we lost?' +</P> + +<P> +'The lord Venantius brought her to Aesernia,' was the grave reply, 'and +she is now among the wives and daughters of the Gothic lords who move +with the army.' +</P> + +<P> +Answering other questions, Felix said that he had not seen Veranilda, +and that he knew nothing of her save what he had heard from those of +Basil's men who had been at the island villa, and, subsequently, from +the gossip of the camp. A story had got abroad that Veranilda was the +lost princess of the Amal line surviving in Italy, and it was commonly +thought among the Goths that their king intended to espouse her—the +marriage to be celebrated in Rome, when Rome once more acknowledged the +Gothic ruler. This did Felix report unwillingly, and only because his +master insisted upon knowing all. +</P> + +<P> +'Very like it is true,' commented Basil, forcing a smile. 'You know, my +good Felix, that the Emperor would fain have had her adorn his court; +and I would rather see her Queen of Italy. But tell me now, last of +all, what talk there has been of me. Or has my name been happily +forgotten?' +</P> + +<P> +'My dear lord's followers,' replied Felix, 'have not ceased to speak of +him among themselves, and to pray for his safety.' +</P> + +<P> +'That I gladly believe. But I see there is more to tell. Out with it +all, good fellow. I have suffered worse things than any that can lie +before me.' +</P> + +<P> +In sad obedience, the servant made known that he and his fellows had +been closely questioned, first by Venantius, later, some two or three +of them, by the king himself, regarding their master's course of life +since he went into Picenum. They had told the truth, happy in that they +could do so without fear and without shame. +</P> + +<P> +'And how did the king bear himself to you?' asked Basil eagerly. +</P> + +<P> +'With that nobleness which became him,' was the fervid answer. 'It is +said among the Goths that only a lie or an act of cowardice can move +Totila to wrath against one who is in his power; and after speaking +face to face with him, I well believe it. He questioned me in few +words, but not as a tyrant; and when I had replied as best I could, he +dismissed me with a smile.' +</P> + +<P> +Basil's head drooped. +</P> + +<P> +'Yes, Totila is noble,' fell softly from him. 'Let be what will be. He +is worthier than I.' +</P> + +<P> +A knock sounded again at the door of the cell, and there entered +Marcus. His keen and kindly face betrayed perturbation of spirit, and +after looking from Basil to the new comer and then at Basil again, he +said in a nervous voice: +</P> + +<P> +'The lord abbot bids you repair at once, my brother, to the prior's +room.' +</P> + +<P> +'I go,' was the prompt reply. +</P> + +<P> +As they left the room, Marcus caught Basil's arm and whispered: +</P> + +<P> +'It is the King of the Goths who awaits you. But have courage, dear +brother; his face is mild. Despite his error, he has borne himself +reverently to our holy father.' +</P> + +<P> +'Know you what has passed between them?' asked Basil, also in a whisper. +</P> + +<P> +'That none may know. But when Totila came forth from the tower, he had +the face of one who has heard strange things. Who can say what the +Almighty purposes by the power of his servant Benedict? Not unguided, +surely, did the feet of the misbelieving warrior turn to climb this +mount.' +</P> + +<P> +Leaving the poet monk to nurse his hopes, Basil betook himself with +rapid steps to the prior's room. At the door stood three armed men; two +had the long flaxen hair which proclaimed them Goths, the third was +Venantius. A look of friendly recognition was all that passed between +Basil and his countryman, who straightway admitted him to the room, +announced his name, and retired. Alone—his attitude that of one who +muses—sat the Gothic King. He was bareheaded and wore neither armour +nor weapon; his apparel a purple tunic, with a loose, gold-broidered +belt, and a white mantle purple seamed. Youth shone in his ruddy +countenance, and the vigour of perfect manhood graced his frame. The +locks that fell to his shoulders had a darker hue than that common in +the Gothic race, being a deep burnished chestnut; but upon his lips and +chin the hair gleamed like pale gold. Across his forehead, from temple +to temple, ran one deep furrow, and this, together with a slight droop +of the eyelids, touched his visage with a cast of melancholy, whereby, +perhaps, the comely features became more royal. +</P> + +<P> +Upon Basil, who paused at a respectful distance, he fixed a gaze of +meditative intentness, and gazed so long in silence that the Roman +could not but at length lift his eyes. Meeting the glance with grave +good nature, Totila spoke firmly and frankly. +</P> + +<P> +'Lord Basil, they tell me that you crossed Italy to draw your sword in +my cause. Is this the truth?' +</P> + +<P> +'It is the truth, O king.' +</P> + +<P> +'How comes it then that you are laden with the death of one who had +long proved himself my faithful servant, one who, when you encountered +him, was bound on a mission of great moment?' +</P> + +<P> +'He whom I slew,' answered Basil, 'was the man whom of all men I most +loved. I thought him false to me, and struck in a moment of madness.' +</P> + +<P> +'Then you have since learnt that you were deceived?' +</P> + +<P> +Basil paused a moment. +</P> + +<P> +'Gracious lord, that I accused him falsely, I no longer doubt, having +had time to reflect upon many things, and to repent of my evil haste. +But I am still ignorant of the cause which led him to think ill of me, +and so to speak and act in a way which could not but make my heart burn +against him.' +</P> + +<P> +'Something of this too I have heard,' said the king, his blue eyes +resting upon Basil's countenance with a thoughtful interest. 'You +believe, then, that your friend was wholly blameless towards you, in +intention and in act?' +</P> + +<P> +'Save inasmuch as credited that strange slander, borne I know not upon +what lips.' +</P> + +<P> +'May I hear,' asked Totila, 'what this slander charged upon you?' +</P> + +<P> +Basil raised his head, and put all his courage into a brief reply. +</P> + +<P> +'That I sought to betray the lady Veranilda into the hands of the +Greeks.' +</P> + +<P> +'And you think,' said the king slowly, meditatively, his eyes still +searching Basil's face, 'that your friend could believe you capable of +that?' +</P> + +<P> +'How he could, I know not,' came the sad reply. 'Yet I must needs think +it was so.' +</P> + +<P> +'Why?' sounded from the king's lips abruptly, and with a change to +unexpected sternness. 'What forbids you the more natural thought that +this man, this Marcian, was himself your slanderer?' +</P> + +<P> +'Thinking so, O king, I slew him. Thinking so, I defiled my tongue with +base suspicion of Veranilda. Being now again in my right mind, I know +that my accusation of <I>her</I> was frenzy, and therefore I choose rather +to believe that I wronged Marcian than that he could conceive so base a +treachery.' +</P> + +<P> +Totila reflected. All but a smile as of satisfaction lurked within his +eyes. +</P> + +<P> +'Know you,' he next inquired, 'by what means Marcian obtained charge of +the lady Veranilda?' +</P> + +<P> +'Of that I am as ignorant as of how she was first carried into +captivity.' +</P> + +<P> +'Yet,' said the king sharply, 'you conversed with her after Marcian's +death.' +</P> + +<P> +'Gracious lord,' answered Basil in low tones, 'it were miscalled +conversing. With blood upon my hands, I said I scarce knew what, and +would not give ear to the words which should have filled me with +remorse.' +</P> + +<P> +There was again a brief silence. Totila let his eyes stray for a +moment, then spoke again meditatively. +</P> + +<P> +'You sought vainly for this maiden, whilst she was kept in ward. Being +your friend, did not Marcian lend his aid to discover her for you?' +</P> + +<P> +'He did so, but fruitlessly. And when at length he found her, his mind +to me had changed.' +</P> + +<P> +'Strangely, it must be confessed,' said the king. His eyes were again +fixed upon Basil with a look of pleasant interest. 'Some day, +perchance, you may learn how that came about; meanwhile, you do well to +think good rather than evil. In truth, it would be difficult to do +otherwise in this dwelling of piety and peace. Is there imposed upon +you some term of penance? I scarce think you have it in mind to turn +monk?' +</P> + +<P> +The last words, though not irreverently uttered, marked a change in +Totila's demeanour. He seemed to lay aside an unwonted gravity, to +become the ruler of men, the warrior, the conqueror. His forehead lost +its long wrinkle, as, with eyebrows bent and lips compressed into a +rallying half smile, he seemed to challenge all the manhood in him he +addressed. +</P> + +<P> +'For that,' Basil replied frankly, 'I lack the calling.' +</P> + +<P> +'Well said. And how tends your inclination as regards the things of +this world? Has it changed in aught since you came hither?' +</P> + +<P> +'In nothing, O king,' was the firm response 'I honour the Goth, even as +I love my country.' +</P> + +<P> +'Spoken like a man. But I hear that you have passed through a long +sickness, and your cheek yet lacks something of its native hue. It +might be well if you took your ease yet a little with these good +bedesmen.' +</P> + +<P> +'It is true that I have not yet all my strength,' answered Basil. +'Moreover,' he added, lowering his voice, 'I would fain lighten my soul +of the sin that burdens it. It may be that, ere long, the holy father +will grant me absolution.' +</P> + +<P> +Totila nodded with a grave smile. +</P> + +<P> +'Be it so. When you are sound in flesh and spirit, follow me northward. +I shall then have more to say to you.' +</P> + +<P> +The look accompanying these words lent them a significance which put +confusion into Basil's mind. He saw the courteous gesture wherewith the +king dismissed him; he bowed and withdrew; but when he had left the +room he stood as one bewildered, aware of nothing, his eyes turned +vacantly upon some one who addressed him. Presently he found himself +walking apart with Venantius, who spoke to him of public affairs, +apprised him of the course of the war during these past weeks, and +uttered the hope that before the end of the year the liberators would +enter Rome. It was true that the Emperor had at length charged +Belisarius with the task of reconquering Italy, but months must pass +before an army could be assembled and transported; by the latest news +the great commander was in Illyria, striving to make a force out of +fresh-recruited barbarians, and lamenting the avarice of Justinian +which grudged him needful supplies. And as he listened to all this, +Basil felt a new ardour glow within him. He had ever worshipped the man +of heroic virtues; once upon a time it was Belisarius who fired his +zeal; now his eyes dazzled with the glory of Totila; he burned to +devote a loyal service to this brave and noble king. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly there sounded a trumpet. Its note broke strangely upon the +monastic stillness, and, in a moment, echoed clear from the mountains. +</P> + +<P> +'The king goes forth,' said Venantius. 'I must leave you. Join us +speedily yonder.' +</P> + +<P> +He pointed towards Rome. On Basil's lips quivered a word, a question, +but before it could be uttered the soldier had stridden away, his +casque gleaming in the sun, and his sword clanking beside him. +</P> + +<P> +Again with mind confused, Basil went to his cell, and sat there head on +hand, trying to recover the mood, the thoughts, with which he had risen +this morning. But everything was changed. He could no longer think of +the past; the future called to him, and its voice was like that of the +Gothic trumpet, stirring his blood, urging him to activity. At midday +some one knocked, and there entered Deodatus. +</P> + +<P> +'Where is Felix?' was Basil's first question. +</P> + +<P> +Felix was gone, but only to the town at the foot of the mountain, where +he and two of his fellows would abide until their master left the +monastery. With this message Deodatus had been charged by Venantius. He +added that Felix had been dismissed, at the abbot's order, during +Basil's interview with the king. +</P> + +<P> +'I understand,' said Basil in himself; and during the rest of the day +he strove with all the force of his will to recover calm and pious +thoughts. In the night that followed he slept little; it was now the +image of Veranilda that hovered before him and kept him wakeful, +perturbed with a tender longing. God, it might be, would pardon him his +offence against the Divine law; but could he look for forgiveness from +Veranilda? When he thought of the king's last words he was lured with +hope; when he reasoned upon this hope, it turned to a mocking +emptiness. And through the next day, and the next again, his struggle +still went on. He worked and prayed as usual, and read the Psalms of +penitence not once only, but several times in the four-and-twenty +hours; that other psalm, to which he had turned for strengthening of +the spirit, he no longer dared to open. And all this time he scarce +spoke with any one; not that the brethren looked upon him with less +kindness, or held him at a distance, but the rebuke of his own +conscience kept him mute. He felt that his communion with these holy +men was in seeming only, and it shamed him to contrast their quiet +service of the Eternal with the turbid worldliness of his own thoughts. +</P> + +<P> +During these days the abbot was not seen. Venturing, at length, when he +happened to find himself alone with Marcus, to speak of this, he learnt +that the holy father was not in his wonted health; Marcus added that +the disorder had resulted from the visit of the king. After Totila's +departure, Benedict had passed hours in solitary prayer, until a +faintness came upon him, from which he could not yet recover. Basil was +turning away sadly, when the monk touched his arm, and said in a +troubled voice: +</P> + +<P> +'Many times he has spoken of you, dear brother.' +</P> + +<P> +'Would,' replied Basil, 'that I were worthy of his thoughts.' +</P> + +<P> +'Did he think you unworthy,' said Marcus, 'he would not grieve that you +must so soon go from among us.' +</P> + +<P> +'The holy father has said that I must soon leave you?' +</P> + +<P> +Marcus nodded gravely, and walked away. +</P> + +<P> +Another week passed. By stern self-discipline, Basil had fixed his +thoughts once more on things spiritual, and the result appeared in a +quiet contentment. He waited upon the will of Benedict, which he had +come to regard as one with the will of God. And at length the expected +summons came. It was on the evening of Saturday, after vespers; the +abbot had been present at the office, and, as he went forth from the +oratory, he bade Basil follow him. They entered the tower, and +Benedict, who walked feebly, sat for some moments silent in his chair, +as if he had need of repose before the effort of speaking. Through the +window streamed a warm light, illumining the aged face turned thither +with eyes which dreamt upon the vanishing day. +</P> + +<P> +'So you are no longer impatient to be gone?' were the abbot's first +words, spoken in a voice which had not lost its music, though weakness +made it low. +</P> + +<P> +'My father,' answered Basil, 'I have striven with myself and God has +helped me.' +</P> + +<P> +He knew that it was needless to say more. The eyes bent upon him read +all his thoughts; the confessions, the pleadings, he might have +uttered, all lay open before that calm intelligence.' +</P> + +<P> +'It is true, dear son,' said Benedict, 'that you have fought bravely, +and your countenance declares that, in some measure, victory has been +granted you. That it is not the complete victory of those who put the +world for ever beneath their feet, shall not move me to murmur. The +Lord of the vineyard biddeth whom He will; not all are called to the +same labour; it may be—for in this matter I see but darkly—it may be +that the earthly strife to which your heart impels you shall serve the +glory of the Highest. As indeed doth every act of man, for how can it +be otherwise? But I speak of the thought, the purpose, whereby 'in the +end of all things, all must be judged.' +</P> + +<P> +Basil heard these sentences with a deep joy. There was silence, and +when the aged voice again spoke, it was in a tone yet more solemn. +Benedict had risen. +</P> + +<P> +'Answer me, my son, and speak as in the presence of God, whom I humbly +serve. Do you truly repent of the sin whereof you made confession to +me?' +</P> + +<P> +Kneeling, Basil declared his penitence. Thereupon, Benedict, looking +upwards, opened his lips in prayer. +</P> + +<P> +'Receive, O Lord, our humble supplications, and to me, who above all +have need of Thy compassion, graciously give ear. Spare Thou this +penitent, that, by Thy mercy, he may escape condemnation in the +judgment to come. Let him not know the dread of darkness, nor the pang +of fire. Having turned from his way of error into the path of +righteousness, be he not again stricken with the wounds of sin, but +grant Thou that there abide with him for ever that soul's health which +Thy grace hath bestowed and Thy mercy hath established.' +</P> + +<P> +As he listened, Basil's eyes filled with tears, and when bidden to rise +he felt as one who has thrown off a burden; rejoicing in his recovered +strength of body and soul, he gazed into that venerable face with +gratitude too great for words. +</P> + +<P> +'Remember now thy Creator in the days of thy youth.' It was with a +parent's tenderness that Benedict now spoke. 'I am old, O Basil, and +have but a few more steps to take upon this earth. Looking upon me, you +see long promise of life before you. And yet—' +</P> + +<P> +The soft accents were suspended. For a moment Benedict gazed as though +into the future; then, with a wave of his hand, passed to another +thought. +</P> + +<P> +'To-morrow you will join with us in the Holy Communion. You will pass +the day in sober joy among the brethren, not one of whom but shares +your gladness and desires your welfare. And at sunrise on the day +after, you will go forth from our gates. Whether to return, I know not; +be that with the Ruler of All. If again you climb this mount, I shall +not be here to bid you welcome. Pray humbly, even as I do, that we may +meet in the life eternal.' +</P> + +<P> +After Mass on the morrow, when he had joyfully partaken of the +Eucharist, Basil was bidden to the priest's room. This time it was the +prior himself who received him, and with an address which indicated the +change in the position of the penitent, now become an ordinary guest. +</P> + +<P> +'Lord Basil, your follower, Deodatus, is minded to fulfil the prophecy +of his name, and tells me that it would be with your good will. Are you +content to deprive yourself of his service, that he may continue to +abide with us, and after due preparation, take the vows of our +community?' +</P> + +<P> +'Content,' was the reply, 'and more than content. If ever man seemed +born for the holy life, it is he. I entreat you, reverend father, to +favour his desire.' +</P> + +<P> +'Be it so. I have spoken of this matter with the lord abbot, who has +graciously given his consent. Let me now make known to you that, at +sunrise to-morrow, your attendants who have been sojourning at Casinum, +will await you by the gate of the monastery. I wish you, dear lord, a +fair journey. Let your thoughts sometimes turn to us; by us you will +ever be remembered.' +</P> + +<P> +Long before the morrow's sunrise, Basil was stirring. By the light of +his little lamp, he and Deodatus conversed together, no longer as +master and servant, but as loving friends, until the bell called them +to matins. The night was chill; under a glistening moon all the valley +land was seen to be deep covered with far-spreading mist, whereamid the +mount of the monastery and the dark summits round about rose like +islands in a still, white sea. When matins and lauds were over, many of +the monks embraced and tenderly took leave of the departing guest. The +last to do so was Marcus, who led him aside and whispered: +</P> + +<P> +'I see you have again put on your ring, as was right. Let me, I beg of +you, once more touch it with my lips.' +</P> + +<P> +Having done so with the utmost reverence, he clasped Basil in his arms, +kissed him on either cheek, and said, amid tears: +</P> + +<P> +'Lest we should never meet again, take and keep this; not for its +worth, for God knows it has little, but in memory of my love.' +</P> + +<P> +The gift was a little book, a beautifully written copy of all the +verses composed by the good Marcus in honour of Benedict and of the +Sacred Mount of Casinum. +</P> + +<P> +Holding it against his heart, Basil rode down into the mist. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap28"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXVIII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +AT HADRIAN'S VILLA +</H3> + +<P> +Rome waited. It was not long to the setting of the Pleiades, and there +could be no hope that the new army from the East would enter Italy this +year. Belisarius lay on the other side of Hadria; in Italy the Imperial +commanders scarce moved from the walls where each had found safety. +Already suffering dearth (for Totila now had ships upon the Tyrrhene +Sea, hindering the corn vessels that made for Portus), such of her +citizens as had hope elsewhere and could escape, making haste to flee, +watching the slow advance of the Gothic conqueror, and fearful of the +leaguer which must presently begin, Rome waited. +</P> + +<P> +One morning the attention of those who went about the streets was +caught by certain written papers which had been fixed during the night +on the entrance of public buildings and at other such conspicuous +points; they bore a proclamation of the King of the Goths. Reminding +the Roman people that nearly the whole of Italy was now his, and urging +them to avoid the useless sufferings of a siege, Totila made promise +that, were the city surrendered to him, neither hurt nor loss should +befall one of the inhabitants; and that under his rule Rome should have +the same liberty, the same honour, as in the time of the glorious +Theodoric. Before these papers had been torn down, their purport became +universally known; everywhere men whispered together; but those who +would have welcomed the coming of Totila could not act upon their wish, +and the Greeks were confident of relief long ere the city could be +taken by storm or brought to extremities. Bessas well knew the numbers +of Totila's army; he himself commanded a garrison of three thousand +men, and not much larger than this was the force with which, after +leaving soldiers to maintain his conquest throughout the land, the king +now drew towards Rome. At the proclamation Bessas laughed, for he saw +in it a device dictated by weakness. +</P> + +<P> +And now, in these days of late autumn, the Gothic army lay all but in +sight. Watchers from the walls pointed eastward, to where on its +height, encircled by the foaming Anio, stood the little town of Tibur; +this, a stronghold overlooking the Ager Romanus, Totila had turned +aside to besiege. The place must soon yield to him. How long before his +horsemen came riding along the Tiburtine Way? +</P> + +<P> +Close by Tibur, on a gently rising slope, sheltered by mountains alike +from northern winds and from the unwholesome breathing of the south, +stood the vast pleasure-house built by the Emperor Hadrian, with its +presentment in little of the scenes and architecture which had most +impressed him in his travels throughout the Roman world. The lapse of +four hundred years had restored to nature his artificial landscape: the +Vale of Tempe had forgotten its name; Peneus and Alpheus flowed +unnoticed through tracts of wood or wilderness; but upon the multitude +of edifices, the dwellings, theatres, hippodromes, galleries, lecture +halls, no destroyer's hand had yet fallen. They abounded in things +beautiful, in carving and mosaic, in wall-painting and tapestries, in +statues which had been the glory of Greece, and in marble portraiture +which was the boast of Rome. Here, amid the decay of ancient splendour +and the luxuriance of the triumphing earth, King Totila made his +momentary abode; with him, in Hadrian's palace, housed the Gothic +warrior-nobles, and a number of ladies, their wives and relatives, who +made, as it were, a wandering court. Honour, pride, and cheerful +courage were the notable characteristics of these Gothic women. What +graces they had they owed to nature, not to any cultivation of the +mind. Their health Buffered in a nomadic life from the ills of the +country, the dangers of the climate, and the children by whom a few +were accompanied, showed a degeneracy of blood which threatened the +race with extinction. +</P> + +<P> +Foremost in rank among them was Athalfrida, sister to the king, and +wife of a brawny lord named Osuin. Though not yet five and twenty years +old, Athalfrida had borne seven children, of whom five died in +babyhood. A creature of magnificent form, and in earlier life of superb +vigour, her paling cheek told of decline that had begun; nevertheless +her spirits were undaunted; and her voice, in gay talk, in song or in +laughter, sounded constantly about the halls and wild gardens. Merry by +choice, she had in her a vein of tenderness which now and then +(possibly due to failing health) became excessive, causing her to shed +abundant tears with little or no cause, and to be over lavish of +endearments with those she loved or merely liked. Athalfrida worshipped +her husband; in her brother saw the ideal hero. She was ardent in +racial feeling, thought nothing good but what was Gothic, and hated the +Italians for their lack of gratitude to the people of Theodoric. +</P> + +<P> +To her the king had intrusted Veranilda. Knowing her origin and +history, Athalfrida, in the beginning, could not but look coldly upon +her charge. The daughter of a Gothic renegade, the betrothed of a Roman +noble, and finally an apostate from the creed of her race-how could +such an one expect more than the barest civility from Totila's sister? +Yet in a little time it had come to pass that Athalfrida felt her heart +soften to the sad and beautiful maiden, who never spoke but gently, who +had compassion for all suffering, and willing aid for any one she could +serve, whom little children loved as soon as they looked into her eyes, +and heard her voice. Though a daughter of the abhorred Ebrimut, +Veranilda was of Amal blood, and, despite what seemed her weakness and +her errors, it soon appeared that she cherished fervidly the glory of +the Gothic name. This contradiction puzzled the wife of Osuin, whose +thoughts could follow only the plainest track. She suspected that her +charge must be the victim of some enchantment, of some evil spell; and +in their talk she questioned her with infinite curiosity concerning her +acquaintance with Basil, her life in the convent at Praeneste, her +release and the journey with Marcian. Veranilda spoke as one who has +nothing to conceal; only, when pressed for the story of that last day +at the island villa, she turned away her face, and entreated the +questioner's forbearance. All else she told with a sad simplicity. Her +religious conversion was the result of teaching she had received from +the abbess, a Roman lady of great learning, who spoke of things till +then unknown to her, and made so manifest the truth of the Catholic +creed that her reason was constrained to accept it. Obeying the king's +command, Athalfrida refrained from argument and condemnation, and, as +Veranilda herself, when once she had told her story, never again +returned to it, the subject was almost forgotten. They lived together +on terms as friendly as might be between persons so different. The +other ladies, their curiosity once satisfied, scarce paid any heed to +her at all; and Veranilda was never more content than when left quite +alone, to ply her needle and commune with her thoughts. +</P> + +<P> +Against all expectation, the gates of Tibur remained obstinately +closed; three weeks went by, and those who came on to the walls to +parley had only words of scorn for the Gothic king, whom they bade +beware of the Greek force which would shortly march to their succour. +Only a small guard of Isaurians held the town, but it was abundantly +provisioned, and strong enough to defy attack for an indefinite time. +The Goths had no skill in taking fortresses by assault; when walls held +firm against them, they seldom overcame except by blockade; and this it +was which, despite his conquest of the greater part of Italy, made +Totila thus slow and cautious in his approach to Rome. He remembered +that Vitiges, who laid siege to the city with a hundred thousand men, +had retreated at last with his troops diminished by more than half, so +worn and dispirited that they scarce struck another blow against +Belisarius. The Greek commander, Totila well knew, would not sally +forth and risk an engagement: to storm the battlements would be an +idle, if not a fatal, attempt; and how, with so small an army, could he +encompass so vast a wall? To guard the entrance to the river with his +ships, and to isolate Rome from every inland district of Italy, seemed +to the Gothic king the only sure way of preparing his final triumph. +But time pressed; however beset with difficulties, Belisarius would not +linger for ever beyond Hadria. The resistance of Tibur excited Totila's +impatience, and at length stirred his wrath. Osuin heard a terrible +threat fall from his lips, and the same evening whispered it to +Athalfrida. +</P> + +<P> +'He will do well,' answered his wife, with brows knit. +</P> + +<P> +On the morrow, Athalfrida and Veranilda sat together in the gardens, or +what once had been the gardens, of Hadrian's palace, and looked forth +over the vast brown landscape, with that gleam upon its limit, that +something pale between earth and air, which was the Tyrrhene Sea. Over +the sky hung thin grey clouds, broken with strips of hazy blue, and +softly suffused with warmth from the invisible sun. +</P> + +<P> +'O that this weary war would end!' exclaimed the elder lady in the +language of the Goths. 'I am sick of wandering, sick of this south, +where winter is the same as summer, sick of the name of Rome. I would I +were back in Mediolanum. There, when you look from the walls, you see +the great white mountains, and a wind blows from them, cold, keen; a +wind that sets you running and leaping, and makes you hungry. Here I +have no gust for food, and indeed there is none worth eating.' +</P> + +<P> +As she spoke, she raised her hand to the branch of an arbutus just +above her head, plucked one of the strawberry-like fruits, bit into it +with her white teeth, and threw the half away contemptuously. +</P> + +<P> +'You!' She turned to her companion abruptly. 'Where would you like to +live when the war is over?' +</P> + +<P> +Veranilda's eyes rested upon something in the far distance, but less +far than the shining horizon. +</P> + +<P> +'Surely not <I>there</I>!' pursued the other, watching her. 'I was but once +in Rome, and I had not been there a week when I fell sick of fever. +King Theodoric knew better than to make his dwelling at Rome, and +Totila will never live there. The houses are so big and so close +together they scarce leave air to breathe; so old, too, they look as if +they would tumble upon your head. I have small liking for Ravenna, +where there is hardly dry land to walk upon, and you can't sleep for +the frogs. Verona is better. But, best of all, Mediolanum. There, if he +will listen to me, my brother shall have his palace and his court—as +they say some of the emperors did, I know not how long ago.' +</P> + +<P> +Still gazing at the far distance, Veranilda murmured: +</P> + +<P> +'I never saw the city nearer than this.' +</P> + +<P> +'I would no one might ever look upon it again!' cried Athalfrida, her +blue eyes dark with anger and her cheeks hot. 'I would that the +pestilence, which haunts its streets, might make it desolate, and that +the muddy river, which ever and again turns it into a swamp, would hide +its highest palace under an eternal flood.' +</P> + +<P> +Veranilda averted her face and kept silence. Thereupon the other seemed +to repent of having spoken so vehemently. +</P> + +<P> +'Well, that's how I feel sometimes,' she said, in a voice suddenly +gentle. 'But I forgot—or I wouldn't have said it.' +</P> + +<P> +'I well understand, dear lady,' replied her companion. 'Rome has never +been loyal to the Goths. And yet some Romans have.' +</P> + +<P> +'How many? To be sure, you know one, and in your thought he stands for +a multitude. Come, you must not be angry with me, child. Nay, vexed, +then. Nay then, hurt and sad. I am not myself to-day. I dreamt last +night of the snowy mountains, and this warmth oppresses me. In truth, I +often fear I shall fall sick. Feel my hand, how hot it is. Where are +the children? Let us walk.' +</P> + +<P> +Not far away she discovered three little boys, two of them her own, who +were playing at battles and sieges upon stairs which descended from +this terrace to the hippodrome below. After watching them awhile, with +laughter and applause, she threw an arm round Veranilda's waist, and +drew her on to a curved portico where, in a niche, stood a statue of +Antinous. +</P> + +<P> +'Is that one of their gods, or an emperor?' asked Athalfrida. 'I have +seen his face again and again since we came here.' +</P> + +<P> +'Indeed, I know not,' answered her companion. 'But surely he is too +beautiful for a man.' +</P> + +<P> +'Beautiful? Never say that, child; for if it be as you think, it is the +beauty of a devil, and has led who knows how many into the eternal +fire. Had I a hammer here, I would splinter the evil face. I would not +have my boys look at it and think it beautiful.' +</P> + +<P> +A heavy footstep sounded on the terrace. Turning, they saw Osuin, an +armed giant, with flowing locks, and thick, tawny beard. +</P> + +<P> +'Wife, a word with you,' he shouted, beckoning from some twenty paces +away. +</P> + +<P> +They talked together; then the lady returned, a troubled smile on her +face, and said softly to Veranilda: +</P> + +<P> +'Some one wishes to speak with you—some one who comes with the king's +good-will.' +</P> + +<P> +Veranilda looked towards Osuin. +</P> + +<P> +'You cannot mean—?' she faltered. +</P> + +<P> +'No other,' replied Athalfrida, nodding gaily. 'Are you at leisure? +Some other day, perhaps? I will say you would be private—that you +cannot now give audience.' +</P> + +<P> +This pleasantry brought only the faintest smile to the listener's face. +</P> + +<P> +'Is it hither that he would come?' she asked, again looking anxiously +towards the ruddy giant, who stamped with a beginning of impatience. +</P> + +<P> +'If so it please you, little one,' answered Athalfrida, changing all at +once to her softest mood. 'The king leaves all to my discretion, and I +ask nothing better than to do you kindness. Shall it be here, or +within?' +</P> + +<P> +Veranilda whispered 'Here'; whereupon Osuin received a sign, and +stalked off. A few minutes passed, and Athalfrida, who, after caresses +and tender words, had drawn apart, as if to watch her children playing, +beheld the expected visitor. Her curiosity was not indiscreet; she +would have glimpsed the graceful figure, the comely visage, and then +have turned away; but at this moment the new comer paused, looked about +him in hesitation, and at length advanced towards her. She had every +excuse for looking him straight in the face, and it needed not the +pleasant note of his speech to dispose her kindly towards him. +</P> + +<P> +'Gracious lady, I seek the lady Veranilda, and was bidden come hither +along the terrace.' +</P> + +<P> +Totila's sister had but little of the Latin tongue; now, for perhaps +the first time in her life, she regretted this deficiency. Smiling, she +pointed to a group of cypresses which hid part of the portico, and her +questioner, with a courtly bow, went on. He wore the ordinary dress of +a Roman noble, and had not even a dagger at his waist. As soon as he +had passed the cypresses, he saw, within the shadow of the portico, the +figure his eyes had sought; then he stood still, and spoke with manly +submissiveness. +</P> + +<P> +'It is much that you suffer me to come into your presence, for of all +men, O Veranilda, I am least worthy to do so.' +</P> + +<P> +'How shall I answer you?' she replied, with a sad, simple dignity. 'I +know not of what unworthiness you accuse yourself. That you are most +unhappy, I know too well.' +</P> + +<P> +She dared not raise her eyes to him; but in the moment of his +appearance before her, it had gladdened her to see him attired as when +she first knew him. Had he worn the soldierly garb in which he +presented himself at Marcian's villa, the revival of a dread memory +would have pierced her heart. Even as in outward man he was the Basil +she had loved, so did his voice recall that brighter day. +</P> + +<P> +'Unhappy most of all,' he continued, 'in what I least dare speak of. I +have no ground to plead for pardon. What I did, and still more what I +uttered, judge it at the worst. I should but add to my baseness if I +urged excuses.' +</P> + +<P> +'Let us not remember that, I entreat you,' said Veranilda. 'But tell +me, if you will, what has befallen you since?' +</P> + +<P> +'You know nothing of me since then?' +</P> + +<P> +'Nothing.' +</P> + +<P> +'And I nothing of you, save that you were with the Gothic army, and +honourably entertained. The king himself spoke to me of you, when, +after long sickness, I came to his camp. He asked if it was my wish to +see you; but I could not yet dare to stand before your face, and so I +answered him. "It is well," said Totila. "Prove yourself in some +service to the Goths and to your country, then I will speak with you +again." And straightway he charged me with a duty which I the more +gladly undertook because it had some taste of danger. He bade me enter +Rome, and spread through the city a proclamation to the Roman people—' +</P> + +<P> +'It was you who did that?' interrupted the listener. 'We heard of its +being done, but not by what hand.' +</P> + +<P> +'With a servant whom I can trust, disguised, he and I, as peasants +bringing food to market, I entered Rome, and remained for two days +within the gates; then returned to Totila. He next sent me to learn the +strength of the Greek garrisons in Spoletium and Assisium, and how +those cities were provisioned; this task also, by good hap, I +discharged so as to win some praise. Then the king again spoke to me of +you. And as, before, I had not dared to approach you, so now I did not +dare to wait longer before making known to you my shame and my +repentance.' +</P> + +<P> +'Of what sickness did you speak just now?' asked Veranilda, after a +silence. +</P> + +<P> +He narrated to her his sojourn at the monastery, told of the penance he +had done, of the absolution granted him by Benedict; whereupon a light +came into Veranilda's eyes. +</P> + +<P> +'There lives,' she exclaimed, 'no holier man!' +</P> + +<P> +'None holier lived,' was Basil's grave answer. 'Returning from +Assisium, I met a wandering anchorite, who told me of Benedict's death.' +</P> + +<P> +'Alas!' +</P> + +<P> +'But is he reverenced by those of your creed?' asked Basil in surprise. +</P> + +<P> +'Of my creed? My faith is that of the Catholic Church.' +</P> + +<P> +For the first time their eyes met. Basil drew a step nearer; his face +shone with joy, which for a moment held him mute. +</P> + +<P> +'It was in the convent,' added Veranilda, 'that I learnt the truth. +They whom I called my enemies wrought this good to me.' +</P> + +<P> +Basil besought her to tell him how she had been carried away from +Surrentum, and all that had befallen her whilst she was a prisoner; he +declared his ignorance of everything between their last meeting in the +Anician villa and the dreadful day which next brought them face to +face. As he said this, it seemed to him that Veranilda's countenance +betrayed surprise. +</P> + +<P> +'I forget,' he added, his head again falling, 'that your mind has been +filled with doubt of me. How can I convince you that I speak truly? O +Veranilda!' he exclaimed passionately, 'can you look at me, can you +hear me speak, and still believe that I was ever capable of betraying +you?' +</P> + +<P> +'That I never believed,' she answered in a subdued voice. +</P> + +<P> +'Yet I saw in your eyes some doubt, some hesitation.' +</P> + +<P> +'Then it was despite myself. The thought that you planned evil against +me I have ever cast out and abhorred. Why it was said of you, alas, I +know not.' +</P> + +<P> +'What proof was given?' asked Basil, gazing fixedly at her. +</P> + +<P> +'None.' +</P> + +<P> +Her accent did not satisfy him; it seemed to falter. +</P> + +<P> +'Was nothing said,' he urged, 'to make credible so black an untruth?' +</P> + +<P> +Veranilda stood motionless and silent. +</P> + +<P> +'Speak, I beseech you!' cried Basil, his hands clasped upon his breast. +'Something there is which shadows your faith in my sincerity. God +knows, I have no right to question you thus—I, who let my heart be +poisoned against you by a breath, a nothing. Rebuke me as you will; +call me by the name I merit; utter all the disdain you must needs feel +for a man so weak and false—' +</P> + +<P> +His speech was checked upon that word. Veranilda had arrested him with +a sudden look, a look of pain, of fear. +</P> + +<P> +'False?' fell from her lips. +</P> + +<P> +'Can <I>you</I> forget it, O Veranilda? Would that I could!' +</P> + +<P> +'In your anger,' she said, 'as when perchance you were already +distraught with fever, you spoke I know not what. Therein you were not +false to me.' +</P> + +<P> +'False to myself; I should have said. To you, never, never! False to my +faith in you, false to my own heart which knew you faithful; but false +as men are called who—' +</P> + +<P> +Again his voice sank. A memory flashed across him, troubling his brow. +</P> + +<P> +'What else were you told?' he asked abruptly. 'Can it be a woman's name +was spoken? You are silent. Will you not say that this thought, also, +you abhorred and rejected?' +</P> + +<P> +The simple honesty of Veranilda's nature would not allow her to +disguise what she thought. Urging question after question, with ardour +irresistible, Basil learnt all she had been told by Marcian concerning +Heliodora, and, having learnt it, confessed the whole truth in utter +frankness, in the plain, blunt words dictated by his loathing of the +Greek woman with whom he had once played at love. And, as she listened, +Veranilda's heart grew light; for the time before her meeting with +Basil seemed very far away, and the tremulous passion in his voice +assured her of all she cared to know, that his troth pledged to her had +never suffered wrong. Basil spoke on and on, told of his misery in Rome +whilst vainly seeking her; how he was baffled and misled; how at +length, in despair, he left the city and went to his estate by Asculum. +Then of the message received from Marcian, and how eagerly he set forth +to cross the Apennines, resolved that, if he could not find Veranilda, +at least he would join himself with her people and fight for their +king; of his encounter with the marauding troop, his arrival, worn and +fevered, at Aesernia, his meeting with Sagaris, their interview, and +what followed upon it. +</P> + +<P> +'To this hour I know not whether the man told me what he believed, or +coldly lied to me. He has the face of a villain and may well have +behaved as one—who knows with what end in view? Could I but lay hands +upon him, I would have the truth out of his tongue by torture. He is in +Rome. I saw him come forth from Marcian's house, when I was there on +the king's service; but, of course, I could not speak with him.' +</P> + +<P> +Veranilda had seated herself within the portico. Basil stood before +her, ever and again meeting her eyes as she looked up. +</P> + +<P> +'Just as little,' he resumed after a pause of troubled thought, 'can I +know whether Marcian believed me a traitor, or himself had a traitorous +mind. The more I think, the less do I understand him. I hope, I hope +with all my heart, that he was innocent, and daily I pray for his +eternal welfare.' +</P> + +<P> +'That is well done, O Basil,' said the listener, for the first time +uttering his name. 'My prayers, too, he shall have. That he was so +willing to credit ill of you, I marvel; and therein he proved himself +no staunch friend. But of all else, he was guiltless.' +</P> + +<P> +'So shall he ever live in my memory,' said Basil. 'Of him I always +found it easier to believe good than evil, for many were the proofs he +had given me of his affection. Had it been otherwise, I should long +before have doubted him; for, when I was seeking you in Rome, more than +once did a finger point to Marcian, as to one who knew more than he +would say. I heard the accusation with scorn, knowing well that they +who breathed it desired to confound me.' +</P> + +<P> +This turned his thoughts again to the beginning of their sorrows; and +again he gently asked of Veranilda that she would relate that part of +her story which remained unknown to him. She, no longer saddened by the +past, looked frankly up into his face, and smiled as she began. Now +first did Basil hear of the anchoret Sisinnius, and how Aurelia was +beguiled into the wood, where capture awaited her. Of the embarkment at +Surrentum, Veranilda had only a confused recollection: fear and +distress re-awoke in her as she tried to describe the setting forth to +sea, and the voyage that followed. Sisinnius and his monkish follower +were in the ship, but held no speech with their captives. After a day +or two of sailing, they landed at nightfall, but in what place she had +never learnt. Still conducted by the anchorets, they were taken to pass +the night in a large house, where they had good entertainment, but saw +only the female slaves who waited upon them. The next day began a +journey by road; and thus, after more than one weary day, they arrived +at the house of religious women which was to be Veranilda's home for +nearly a twelvemonth. +</P> + +<P> +'I knew not where I was, and no one would answer me that question, +though otherwise I had gentle and kindly usage. Aurelia I saw no more; +we had not even taken leave of each other, for we did not dream on +entering the house that we were to be parted. Whether she remained +under that roof I never learnt. During our journey, she suffered much, +often weeping bitterly, often all but distraught with anger and +despair. Before leaving the ship we were told that, if either of us +tried to escape, we should be fettered, and only the fear of that +indignity kept Aurelia still. Her face, as I remember its last look, +was dreadful, so white and anguished. I have often feared that, if she +were long kept prisoner, she would lose her senses.' +</P> + +<P> +Basil having heard the story to an end without speaking, made known the +thoughts it stirred in him. They talked of Petronilla and of the deacon +Leander, and sought explanations of Veranilda's release. And, as thus +they conversed, they forgot all that had come between them; their +constraint insensibly passed away; till at length Basil was sitting by +Veranilda's side, and holding her hand, and their eyes met in a long +gaze of love and trust and hope. +</P> + +<P> +'Can you forgive?' murmured Basil, upon whom, in the fulness of his +joy, came the memory of what he deemed his least pardonable sin. +</P> + +<P> +'How can I talk of forgiveness,' she returned, 'when not yours was the +blame, but mine? For I believed—or all but believed—that you had +forgotten me.' +</P> + +<P> +'Beloved, I was guilty of worse than faithlessness. I dread to think, +and still more to speak, of it; yet if I am silent, I spare myself; and +seem, perhaps, to make light of baseness for which there are no words +of fitting scorn. That too, be assured, O Veranilda, I confessed to the +holy Benedict.' +</P> + +<P> +Her bowed head and flushing cheek told him that she understood. +</P> + +<P> +'Basil,' she whispered, 'it was not you, not you.' +</P> + +<P> +'Gladly would I give myself that comfort. When I think, indeed, that +this hand was raised to take my friend's life, I shake with horror and +say, "Not <I>I</I> did that!" Even so would I refuse to charge my very self +with those words that my lips uttered. But to you they were spoken; you +heard them; you fled before them—' +</P> + +<P> +'Basil! Basil!' +</P> + +<P> +She had hidden her face with her hands. Basil threw himself upon his +knees beside her. +</P> + +<P> +'Though I spoke in madness, can you ever forget? God Himself, I know, +will sooner blot out my sin of murder than this wound I inflicted upon +your pure and gentle heart!' +</P> + +<P> +Veranilda caught his hand and pressed her lips upon it, whilst her +tears fell softly. +</P> + +<P> +'Listen, dearest Basil,' she said. 'To think that I guard this in my +memory against you would be to do me wrong. Remember how first I spoke +to you about it, when we first knew that we loved each other. Did I not +tell you that this was a thing which could never be quite forgotten? +Did I not know that, if ever I sinned, or seemed to sin, <I>this</I> would +be the first rebuke upon the lips of those I angered? Believing me +faithless—nay, not you, beloved, but your fevered brain—how could you +but think that thought? And, even had you not spoken it, must I not +have read it in your face? Never ask me to forgive what you could not +help. Rather, O Basil, will I entreat you, even as I did before, to +bear with the shame inseparable from my being. If it lessen not your +love, have I not cause enough for thankfulness?' +</P> + +<P> +Hearing such words as these, in the sweetest, tenderest voice that ever +caressed a lover's senses, Basil knew not how to word all that was in +his heart. Passion spoke for him, and not in vain; for in a few moments +Veranilda's tears were dry, or lingered only to glisten amid the happy +light which beamed from her eyes. Side by side, forgetful of all but +their recovered peace, they talked sweet nothings, until there sounded +from far a woman's voice, calling the name of Veranilda. +</P> + +<P> +'That is Athalfrida,' she said, starting up. 'I must not delay.' +</P> + +<P> +One whisper, one kiss, and she was gone. When Basil, after brief +despondency came forth on to the open terrace, he saw her at a +distance, standing with Athalfrida and Osuin. Their looks invited him +to approach, and, when he was near, Veranilda stepped towards him. +</P> + +<P> +'It will not be long,' she said calmly, 'before we again meet. The lord +Osuin promises, and he speaks for the king.' +</P> + +<P> +Basil bowed in silence. The great-limbed warrior and his fair wife had +their eyes upon him, and were smiling good-naturedly. Then Osuin spoke +in thick-throated Latin. +</P> + +<P> +'Shall we be gone, lord Basil?' +</P> + +<P> +From the end of the terrace, Basil looked back. Athalfrida stood with +her arm about the maiden's waist; both gazed towards him, and Veranilda +waved her hand. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap29"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXIX +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +ROME BELEAGUERED +</H3> + +<P> +A few days later the guards at the Tiburtine Gate of Rome were hailed, +before dawn, by a number of Greek soldiers in the disarray of flight. +It was a portion of the garrison of Tibur: the town had been betrayed +at sunset, by certain of its inhabitants who watched at one of the +gates. The soldiers fought their way through and most of them escaped, +and had fled hither through the darkness. Before the end of the day +came news more terrible. A peasant from a neighbouring farm declared +that all the people of Tibur, men, women, and children, had perished +under the Gothic sword, not even ministers of religion having found +mercy. And very soon this report, at first doubted, was fully +confirmed. The event excited no less astonishment than horror, +contrasting as it did with Totila's humanity throughout the war. Some +offered as explanation the fact that many Goths lived at Tibur, whose +indifference or hostility had angered the king; others surmised that +this was Totila's warning after the failure of his proclamation to the +Romans. Whatever the meaning of such unwonted severity, its effect upon +the Romans was unfavourable to the Gothic cause. Just about this time +there happened to arrive two captains, sent by Belisarius with a small +troop for the reinforcement of Bessas. The addition to the strength of +the garrison was inconsiderable, but it served to put the city in heart +once more. The Patricius himself would not be long in coming, and when +did the name of Belisarius sound anything but victory? +</P> + +<P> +This confidence increased when Totila, instead of marching upon Rome, +as all had expected, turned in the opposite direction, and led his +forces across the Apennines. The gates were thrown open; the citizens +resumed their ordinary life, saying to each other that all fear of a +siege was at an end; and when certain ships from Sicily, having by good +luck escaped the Gothic galleys, landed a good supply of corn, there +was great exultation. True, only a scanty measure of this food reached +the populace, and that chiefly by the good offices of the archdeacon +Pelagius, now become as dear to the people as Pope Vigilius was +hateful; the granaries were held by Bessas, who first of all fed his +soldiers, and then sold at a great price. As winter went on, the Romans +suffered much. And with the spring came disquieting news of Totila's +successes northwards: the towns of Picenum had yielded to him; he was +moving once more in this direction; he captured Spoletium, Assisium, +and still came on. +</P> + +<P> +Belisarius, meanwhile, had crossed to Italy, and was encamped at +Ravenna. Why, asked the Romans, impatiently, anxiously, did he not +march to meet the Gothic king? But the better informed knew that his +army was miserably insufficient; they heard of his ceaseless appeals to +Byzantium, of his all but despair in finding himself without money, +without men, in the land which but a few years ago had seen his glory. +Would the Emperor take no thought for Italy, for Rome? Bessas, with +granaries well stored, and his palace heaped with Roman riches, +shrugged when the nobles spoke disrespectfully of Justinian; his only +loyalty was to himself. +</P> + +<P> +At high summertide, the Gothic camp was pitched before Rome, and the +siege anticipated for so many months had at length begun. For whatever +reason, Totila had never attempted to possess himself of Portus, which +guarded the mouth of the river Tiber on the north bank and alone made +possible the provisioning of the city. Fearing that this stronghold +would now be attacked, Bessas despatched a body of soldiers to +strengthen its garrison; but they fell into a Gothic ambush, and were +cut to pieces. Opposite Portus, and separated from it by a desert +island, on either side of which Tiber flowed to the sea, lay the +ancient town of Ostia, once the port of the world's traffic, now +ruinous and scarce inhabited. Here Totila established an outpost; but +he did not otherwise threaten the harbour on the other side. His +purpose evidently was to avoid all conflict which would risk a +reduction of the Gothic army, and by patient blockade to starve the +Romans into surrender. +</P> + +<P> +He could not surround the city, with its circuit of twelve miles; he +could not keep ceaseless watch upon the sixteen gates and the numerous +posterns. King Vitiges, in his attempt to do so, had suffered terrible +losses. It was inevitable that folk should pass in and out of Rome. But +from inland no supplies could be expected by the besieged, and any ship +sailing up to Portus would have little chance of landing its cargo +safely. Before long, indeed, this was put to proof. The Pope, whose +indecision still kept him lingering in Sicily, nearly a twelvemonth +after his departure from Rome for Constantinople, freighted a vessel +with corn for the relief of the city, and its voyage was uninterrupted +as far as the Tiber's mouth. There it became an object of interest, not +only to the Greeks on the walls of Portus, but to the Gothic soldiers +at. Ostia, who forthwith crossed in little boats, and lay awaiting the +ship at the entrance to the haven. Observant of this stratagem, the +garrison, by all manner of signalling, tried to warn the sailors of the +danger awaiting them; but their signals were misunderstood, being taken +for gestures of eager welcome; and the ship came on. With that lack of +courage which characterised them, the Greeks did nothing more than wave +arms and shout: under their very eyes, the corn-ship was boarded by the +Goths, and taken into Ostia. +</P> + +<P> +Of courage, indeed, as of all other soldierly virtues, little enough +was exhibited, at this stage of the war, on either side. The Imperial +troops scattered about Italy, ill-paid, and often starving mercenaries +from a score of Oriental countries, saw no one ready to lead them to +battle, and the one Byzantine general capable of commanding called +vainly for an army. Wearied by marchings and counter-marchings, the +Gothic warriors were more disposed to rest awhile after their easy +conquests than to make a vigorous effort for the capture of Rome. +Totila himself, heroic redeemer of his nation, turned anxious glances +towards Ravenna, hoping, rather than resolving, to hold his state upon +the Palatine before Belisarius could advance against him. He felt the +fatigue of those about him, and it was doubtless under the stress of +such a situation, bearing himself the whole burden of the war, that he +had ordered, or permitted, barbarous revenge upon the city of Tibur. +For this reason he would not, even now, centre all his attention upon +the great siege; he knew what a long, dispiriting business it was +likely to be, and feared to fall into that comparative idleness. Soon +after the incident of the Sicilian corn-ship, he was once more +commanding in the north, where a few cities yet held out against him. +Dreadful stories were told concerning the siege of Placentia, whose +inhabitants were said to have eaten the bodies of their dead ere they +yielded to the Goth. So stern a spirit of resistance was found only in +places where religious zeal and national sentiment both existed in +their utmost vigour, and Totila well knew that, of these two forces +ever threatening to make his conquests vain, it was from religion that +he had most to fear. In vain was the history of Gothic tolerance known +throughout Italy; it created no corresponding virtue in the bosom of +Catholicism; the barbaric origin of the Goths might be forgotten or +forgiven, their heresy—never. +</P> + +<P> +Totila, whose qualities of heart and mind would have made him, could he +but have ruled in peace, a worthy successor of the great Theodoric, had +reflected much on this question of the hostile creeds; he had talked of +it with ministers of his own faith and with those of the orthodox +church; and it was on this account that he had sought an interview with +the far-famed monk of Casinum. Understanding the futility of any hope +that the Italians might be won to Arianism, and having sufficient +largeness of intellect to perceive how idle was a debate concerning the +'substance' of the Father and of the Son, Totila must at times have +felt willing enough to renounce the heretical name, and so win favour +of the Italians, the greater part of whom would assuredly have +preferred his rule to that of the Emperor Justinian. But he knew the +religious obstinacy of his own people; to imagine their following him +in a conversion to Catholicism was but to dream. Pondering thus, he +naturally regarded with indulgence the beautiful and gentle Gothic +maiden delivered into his power by a scheming Roman ecclesiastic. After +his conversations with Veranilda, he had a pensive air; and certain +persons who observed him remarked on it to each other, whence arose the +rumour that Totila purposed taking to wife this last descendant of the +Amals. Whatever his temptations, he quickly overcame them. If ever he +thought of marriage, policy and ambition turned his mind towards the +royal Franks; but the time for that had not yet come. Meanwhile, having +spoken with the young Roman whom Veranilda loved, he saw in Basil a +useful instrument, and resolved, if his loyalty to the Goths bore every +test, to reward him with Veranilda's hand. The marriage would be of +good example, and might, if the Gothic arms remained triumphant, lead +to other such. +</P> + +<P> +After the meeting at Hadrian's villa which he granted to the lovers, +Totila summoned Basil to his presence. Regarding him with a +good-natured smile, he said pleasantly: +</P> + +<P> +'Your face has a less doleful cast than when I first saw it.' +</P> + +<P> +'That,' answered Basil, 'is due in no small degree to the gracious +favour of my king.' +</P> + +<P> +'Continue to merit my esteem, lord Basil, and proof of my good-will +shall not be wanting. But the time for repose and solace is not yet. +To-morrow you will go with Venantius to Capua, and thence, it may be, +into Apulia.' +</P> + +<P> +Basil bowed in silence. He had hoped that the siege of Rome was now to +be undertaken, and that this would ensure his remaining near to +Veranilda. But the loyalty he professed to Totila was no less in his +heart than on his lips, and after a moment's struggle he looked up with +calm countenance. +</P> + +<P> +'Have you aught to ask of me?' added Totila, after observing his face. +</P> + +<P> +'This only, O king: that if occasion offer, I may send written news of +myself to her I love.' +</P> + +<P> +'That is a little thing,' was the answer, 'and I grant it willingly.' +</P> + +<P> +Totila paused a moment; then, his blue eyes shining with a vehement +thought, added gravely: +</P> + +<P> +'When we speak together within the walls of Rome, ask more, and it +shall not be refused.' +</P> + +<P> +So Basil rode southward, and happily was far away when Tibur opened its +gates to the Goth. For more than half a year he and Venantius were busy +in maintaining the Gothic rule throughout Lucania and Apulia, where +certain Roman nobles endeavoured to raise an army of the peasantry in +aid of the Greek invasion constantly expected upon the Adriatic shore. +When at length he was recalled, the siege of Rome had begun. The Gothic +ladies now resided at Tibur, where a garrison was established; there +Basil and Veranilda again met, and again only for an hour. But their +hopes were high, and scarce could they repine at the necessity of +parting so soon. Already in a letter, Basil had spoken of the king's +promise; he now repeated it, whilst Veranilda flushed with happiness. +</P> + +<P> +'And you remain before Rome?' she asked. +</P> + +<P> +'Alas, no! I am sent to Ravenna, to spy out the strength of Belisarius.' +</P> + +<P> +But Rome was besieged, and so hateful had Bessas made himself to the +Roman people that it could not be long ere some plot among them +delivered the city. +</P> + +<P> +'Then,' cried Basil exultantly, 'I shall ask my reward.' +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap30"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXX +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +* * * * +</H3> + +<P> +On a winter's day, at the hour of sundown, Heliodora sat in her great +house on the Quirinal, musing sullenly. Beside her a brazier of +charcoal glowed in the dusk, casting a warm glimmer upon the sculptured +forms which were her only companions; she was wrapped in a scarlet +cloak, with a hood which shadowed her face. All day the sun had shone +brilliantly, but it glistened afar on snowy summits, and scarce +softened the mountain wind which blew through the streets of Rome. +</P> + +<P> +To divert a hungry populace, now six months besieged, Bessas was +offering entertainments such as suited the Saturnalian season. To-day +he had invited Rome to the Circus Maximus, where, because no spectacle +could be provided imposing enough to fill the whole vast space, half a +dozen shows were presented simultaneously; the spectators grouped here +and there, in number not a fiftieth part of that assembly which +thundered at the chariots in olden time. Here they sat along the +crumbling, grass-grown, and, as their nature was, gladly forgot their +country's ruin, their own sufferings, and the doom which menaced them. +Equestrians, contortionists, mimes, singers, were readily found in the +city, where a brave or an honest man had become rare indeed. What a +performance lacked in art, he supplied by shamelessness; and nowhere +was laughter so hearty, or the crowd so dense, as in that part of the +circus where comic singers and dancers vied with the grossest +traditions of the pagan theatre. +</P> + +<P> +Heliodora could not miss such an opportunity of enjoyment and of +display. She sat amid her like, the feline ladies and the young nobles, +half brute, half fop, who though already most of them fasted without +the merit of piety, still prided themselves on being the flower of +Roman fashion. During one of the pauses of the festival, when places +were changed, and limbs stretched, some one whispered to her that she +was invited to step towards that place of honour where sat the +Emperor's representative. An invitation of Bessas could not lightly be +declined, nor had Heliodora any reluctance to obey such a summons. More +than a year had gone by since her vain attempt, on Marcian's +suggestion, to enslave the avaricious Thracian, and, since then, the +hapless Muscula had had more than one successor. Roman gossip, always +busy with the fair Greek, told many a strange story to account for her +rigour towards the master of Rome, who was well known to have made +advances to her. So when to-day they were seen sitting side by side, +conversing vivaciously, curiosity went on tiptoe. The entertainment +over, Heliodora was carried home in her litter, no friend accompanying +her. Few nowadays were the persons in Rome who bade guests to their +table; even the richest had no great superfluity of viands. After +sunset, the city became a dark and silent desert, save when watch-fires +glared and soldiers guarded the walls. +</P> + +<P> +As was the case with all Romans who not long ago had commanded a +multitude of slaves and freedmen, Heliodora's household was much +reduced. Even before the siege began, many of the serving class stole +away to the Goths, who always received them with a welcome; and since +the closing of the gates this desertion had been of daily occurrence, +the fugitives having little difficulty in making their escape from so +vast a city so sparsely populated. No longer did the child from far-off +Anglia ride about on his mistress's errands; a female slave, punished +for boxing his ears, had stifled him as he slept, and fled that night +with five or six others who were tired of the lady's caprices and +feared her cruelty. Her aviary was empty. Having wearied of that whim, +she had let the birds loose; a generosity she regretted now that +toothsome morsels were rare. In her strong box there remained little +money, and the estate she owned in a distant part of Italy might as +well have been sunk in the sea for all the profit it could yield her. +True, she had objects of value, such as were daily accepted by Bessas +in exchange for corn and pork; but, if it came to that extremity, could +not better use be made of the tough-skinned commander? Heliodora had no +mind to support herself on bread and pork whilst food more appetising +might still be got. +</P> + +<P> +It was all but dark. She rang a hand-bell and was answered by a +maidservant. +</P> + +<P> +'Has Sagaris returned yet?' she asked impatiently. +</P> + +<P> +'Lady, not yet.' +</P> + +<P> +Heliodora kept silence for a moment, then bade the girl bring her a +lamp. A very small lamp was set upon the table, and as she glanced at +its poor flame, Heliodora remembered that the store of oil was nearly +at an end. +</P> + +<P> +Again she had sat alone for nearly half an hour, scarcely stirring, so +intent was she on the subject of her thoughts, when a light footfall +sounded without, and the curtain at the door was raised. She turned and +saw a dark countenance, which smiled upon her coldly. +</P> + +<P> +'Where have you been?' broke angrily from her lips. +</P> + +<P> +'Hither and thither,' was the softly insolent reply, as Sagaris let the +curtain fall behind him and stepped forward to the brazier, over which +he held out his hands to warm them. +</P> + +<P> +By his apparel, he might have been mistaken for a noble. +</P> + +<P> +Nominally he had for a year held the office of steward to Heliodora. +That his functions were not, as a matter of fact, all comprised under +that name was well known to all in the house, and to some beyond its +walls. +</P> + +<P> +'Were you at the Circus?' she next inquired, using the large hood to +avoid his gaze without seeming to do so. +</P> + +<P> +'I was there, gracious lady. Not, of course, in such an exalted place +as that in which I saw <I>you</I>.' +</P> + +<P> +'I did not choose that place,' said Heliodora, her voice almost +conciliatory. 'Being sent for, I could not refuse to go.' +</P> + +<P> +Sagaris set a stool near to his mistress, seated himself, and looked up +into her face. She, for an instant, bore it impatiently, but of a +sudden her countenance changed, and she met the gaze with a +half-mocking smile. +</P> + +<P> +'Is this one of your jealous days?' she asked, with what was meant for +playfulness, though the shining of her eyes and teeth in the lamplight +gave the words rather an effect of menace. +</P> + +<P> +'Perhaps it is,' answered the Syrian. 'What did Bessas say to you?' +</P> + +<P> +'Many things. He ended by asking me to sup at the palace. You will own +that the invitation was tempting.' +</P> + +<P> +Sagaris glared fiercely at her, and drew upon himself a look no less +fierce. +</P> + +<P> +'Fool!' she exclaimed, once more speaking in a natural voice. 'How +shall we live a month hence? Have you a mind to steal away to the +Goths? If you do so, you can't expect me to starve here alone. +Thick-willed slave! Can you see no further than the invitation to sup +with that thievish brute?—which I should have accepted, had I not +foreseen the necessity of explaining to your dulness all that might +follow upon it.' +</P> + +<P> +Esteeming himself the shrewdest of mankind, Sagaris deeply resented +these insults, not for the first time thrown at him by the woman whom +he regarded with an Oriental passion and contempt. +</P> + +<P> +'Of course I know what you mean,' he replied disdainfully. 'I know, +too, that you will be no match for the Thracian robber.' +</P> + +<P> +Heliodora caught his arm. +</P> + +<P> +'What if I can make him believe that Belisarius has the Emperor's +command to send him in chains to Constantinople! Would he not rather +come to terms with Totila, who, as I know well, long ago offered to let +him carry off half his plunder?' +</P> + +<P> +'You know that? How?' +</P> + +<P> +'Clod-pate! Have you forgotten your master whom Basil slew? Did I not +worm out of him, love-sick simpleton that he was, all the secrets of +his traffic with Greeks and Goths?' +</P> + +<P> +Again they glanced at each other like wild creatures before the leap. +</P> + +<P> +'Choose,' said Heliodora. 'Leave me free to make your fortune, for +Totila is generous to those who serve him well; or stay here and spy +upon me till your belly pinches, and the great opportunity of your life +is lost.' +</P> + +<P> +There was a silence. The Syrian's features showed how his mind was +rocking this way and that. +</P> + +<P> +'You have not cunning for this,' he snarled. 'The Thracian will use you +and laugh at you. And when you think to come back to me....' +</P> + +<P> +He touched the dagger at his waist. +</P> + +<P> +In that moment there came confused sounds from without the room. +Suddenly the curtain was pulled aside, and there appeared the face of a +frightened woman, who exclaimed: 'Soldiers, lady, soldiers are in the +house!' +</P> + +<P> +Heliodora started up. Sagaris, whose hand was still on the dagger's +hilt, grasped her by the mantle, his look and attitude so like that of +a man about to strike that she sprang away from him with a loud cry. +Again the curtain was raised, and there entered hurriedly several armed +men. Their leader looked with a meaning grin at the lady and her +companion, who now stood apart from each other. +</P> + +<P> +'Pardon our hasty entrance, fair Heliodora,' he said in Greek. 'The +commander has need of you—on pressing business.' +</P> + +<P> +'The commander must wait my leisure,' she replied with a note of +indignation over-emphasised. +</P> + +<P> +'Nay, that he cannot,' returned the officer, leering at Sagaris. 'He is +even now at supper, and will take it ill if you be not there when he +rises from table. A litter waits.' +</P> + +<P> +Not without much show of wrath did Heliodora yield. As she left the +room, her eyes turned to Sagaris, who had shrunk into a corner, coward +fear and furious passion distorting his face. The lady having been +borne away, a few soldiers remained in the house, where they passed the +night. On the morrow Bessas himself paid a visit to that famous museum +of sculpture, and after an inspection, which left no possible +hiding-place unsearched, sent away to the Palatine everything that +seemed to him worth laying hands upon. +</P> + +<P> +Meanwhile the domestics had all been held under guard. Sagaris, who +heard his relations with Heliodora jested over by the slaves and +soldiers, passed a night of terror, and when he knew of the commander's +arrival, scarce had strength to stand. To his surprise, nothing ill +befell him. During the pillage of the house he was disregarded, and +when Bessas had gone he only had to bear the scoffs of his +fellow-slaves. These unfortunates lived together as long as the scant +provisions lasted, then scattered in search of sustenance. The great +house on the Quirinal stood silent, left to its denizens of marble and +of bronze. +</P> + +<P> +Sagaris, who suspected himself to have been tricked by Heliodora in the +matter of her removal to the Palatine, and had not the least faith in +her power to beguile Bessas, swore by all the saints that the day of +his revenge should come; but for the present he had to think of how to +keep himself alive. Money he had none; it was idle to hope of attaching +himself to another household, and unless he escaped to the Goths, there +was no resource but to beg from one or other of those few persons who, +out of compassion and for their souls' sake, gave alms to the indigent. +Wandering in a venomous humour, he chanced to approach the Via Lata, +and out of curiosity turned to the house of Marcian. Not knowing +whether it was still inhabited, he knocked at the door, and was +surprised to hear a dog's bark, for nearly all the dogs in Rome had +already been killed and eaten. The wicket opened, and a voice spoke +which he well remembered. +</P> + +<P> +'You alive still, old Stephanus? Who feeds you? Open and teach me the +art of living on nothing.' +</P> + +<P> +He who opened looked indeed the image of Famine—a fleshless, tottering +creature, with scarce strength left to turn the key in the door. His +only companions in the house were his daughter and the dog. Till not +long ago there had been also the daughter's child, whom she had borne +to Marcian, but this boy was dead. +</P> + +<P> +'I'm glad to see you,' said Stephanus mysteriously, drawing his visitor +into the atrium, and speaking as if the house were full of people who +might overhear him. 'Your coming to-day is a strange thing. Have you, +perchance, had a dream?' +</P> + +<P> +'What dream should I have had?' answered Sagaris, his superstition at +once stirring. +</P> + +<P> +The old man related that last night, for the third time, he had dreamt +that a treasure lay buried in this house. Where he could not say, but +in his dream he seemed to descend stairs, and to reach a door which, +when he opened it, showed him a pile of gold, shining in so brilliant a +light that he fell back blinded, whereupon the door closed in his face. +To this the Syrian listened very curiously. Cellars there were below +the house, as he well knew, and hidden treasure was no uncommon thing +in Rome. Having bidden Stephanus light a torch, he went exploring, but +though they searched long, they could find no trace of a door long +unopened, or of a walled-up entrance. +</P> + +<P> +'You should have more wit in your dreaming, old scarecrow,' said +Sagaris. 'If I had had a dream such as that a second time, not to speak +of a third, do you think I should not have learnt the way. But you were +always a clod-pate.' +</P> + +<P> +Thus did he revenge himself for the contumely he had suffered from +Heliodora. As he spoke they were joined by the old man's daughter, who, +after begging at many houses, returned with a pocketful of lentils. The +girl had been pretty, but was now emaciated and fever-burnt; she looked +with ill-will at Sagaris, whom she believed, as did others of his +acquaintance, to have murdered Marcian, and to have invented the story +of his death at the hands of Basil. Well understanding this, Sagaris +amused himself with jesting on the loss of her beauty; why did she not +go to the Palatine, where handsome women were always welcome? Having +driven her away with his brutality, he advised Stephanus to keep silent +about the treasure, and promised to come again ere long. +</P> + +<P> +He now turned his steps to the other side of Tiber, and, after passing +through poor streets, where some show of industries was still kept up +by a few craftsmen, though for the most part folk sat or lay about in +sullen idleness, came to those grinding-mills on the slope of the +Janiculum which were driven by Trajan's aqueduct. Day and night the +wheels made their clapping noise, seeming to clamour for the corn which +did not come. At the door of one of the mills, a spot warmed by the +noonday sun, sat a middle-aged man, wretchedly garbed, who with a burnt +stick was drawing what seemed to be diagrams on the stone beside him. +At the sound of a footstep, rare in that place, he hastily smeared out +his designs, and looking up showed a visage which bore a racial +resemblance to that of Sagaris. Recognising the visitor, he smiled, +pointed to the ground in invitation, and when Sagaris had placed +himself near by, began talking in the tongue of their own Eastern land. +This man, who called himself Apollonius, had for some years enjoyed +reputation in Rome as an astrologer, thereby gaining much money; and +even in these dark days he found people who were willing to pay him, +either in coin or food, for his counsel and prophecies. Fearful of +drawing attention upon himself, as one who had wealth in store, he had +come to live like a beggar in this out-of-the-way place, where his +money was securely buried, and with it a provision of corn, peas, and +lentils which would keep him alive for a long time. Apollonius was the +only man living whom Sagaris, out of reverence and awe, would have +hesitated to rob, and the only man to whom he did not lie. For beside +being learned in the stars, an interpreter of dreams, a prophet of +human fate, Apollonius spoke to those he could trust of a religion, of +sacred mysteries, much older, he said, and vastly more efficacious for +the soul's weal than the faith in Christ. To this religion Sagaris also +inclined, for it was associated with memories of his childhood in the +East; if he saw the rising of the sun, and was unobserved, he bowed +himself before it, with various other observances of which he had +forgotten the meaning. +</P> + +<P> +His purpose in coming hither was to speak of Stephanus's dream. The +astrologer listened very attentively, and, after long brooding, +consented to use his art for the investigation of the matter. +</P> + +<P> +* * * * +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR><BR> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Veranilda, by George Gissing + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VERANILDA *** + +***** This file should be named 4306-h.htm or 4306-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/4/3/0/4306/ + +Produced by Charles Aldarondo. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Veranilda + +Author: George Gissing + +Posting Date: July 12, 2009 [EBook #4306] +Release Date: August, 2003 +First Posted: January 3, 2002 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VERANILDA *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Aldarondo. HTML version by Al Haines. + + + + + + + + +Veranilda + + +By + +George Gissing + + + + +CONTENTS + + I THE VANQUISHED ROMAN + II BASIL'S VISION + III THE DEACON LEANDER + IV TO CUMAE + V BASIL AND VERANILDA + VI THE EMPEROR'S COMMAND + VII HERESY + VIII THE SNARE + IX CHORSOMAN + X THE ANICIANS + XI SEEKING + XII HELIODORA + XIII THE SOUL OF ROME + XIV SILVIA'S DREAM + XV YOUNG ROME + XVI WHISPERS + XVII LEANDER THE POLITIC + XVIII PELAGIUS + XIX THE PRISONER OF PRAENESTE + XX THE ISLAND IN THE LIRIS + XXI THE BETRAYER BETRAYED + XXII DOOM + XXIII THE RED HAND + XXIV THE MOUNT OF THE MONK + XXV THE ABBOT'S TOWER + XXVI VIVAS IN DEO + XXVII THE KING OF THE GOTHS + XXVIII AT HADRIAN'S VILLA + XXIX ROME BELEAGUERED + XXX * * * * + + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE VANQUISHED ROMAN + + +Seven years long had the armies of Justinian warred against the Goths +in Italy. Victor from Rhegium to Ravenna, the great commander +Belisarius had returned to the East, Carrying captive a Gothic king. +The cities of the conquered land were garrisoned by barbarians of many +tongues, who bore the name of Roman soldiers; the Italian people, +brought low by slaughter, dearth, and plague, crouched under the +rapacious tyranny of governors from Byzantium. + +Though children born when King Theodoric still reigned had yet scarce +grown to manhood, that golden age seemed already a legend of the past. +Athalaric, Amalasuntha, Theodahad, last of the Amal blood, had held the +throne in brief succession and were gone; warriors chosen at will by +the Gothic host, mere kings of the battlefield, had risen and perished; +reduced to a wandering tribe, the nation which alone of her invaders +had given peace and hope to Italy, which alone had reverenced and +upheld the laws, polity, culture of Rome, would soon, it was thought, +be utterly destroyed, or vanish in flight beyond the Alps. Yet war did +not come to an end. In the plain of the great river there was once more +a chieftain whom the Goths had raised upon their shields, a king, men +said, glorious in youth and strength, and able, even yet, to worst the +Emperor's generals. His fame increased. Ere long he was known to be +moving southward, to have crossed the Apennines, to have won a battle +in Etruria. The name of this young hero was Totila. + +In these days the senators of Rome, heirs to a title whose ancient +power and dignity were half-forgotten, abode within the City, under +constraint disguised as honour, the conqueror's hostages. One among +them, of noblest name, Flavius Anicius Maximus, broken in health by the +troubles of the time and by private sorrow, languishing all but unto +death in the heavy air of the Tiber, was permitted to seek relief in a +visit to which he would of his domains in Italy. His birth, his repute, +gave warrant of loyalty to the empire, and his coffers furnished the +price put upon such a favour by Byzantine greed. Maximus chose for +refuge his villa by the Campanian shore, vast, beautiful, half in ruin, +which had been enjoyed by generations of the Anician family; situated +above the little town of Surrentum it caught the cooler breeze, and on +its mountainous promontory lay apart from the tramp of armies. Here, as +summer burned into autumn, the sick man lived in brooding silence, +feeling his strength waste, and holding to the world only by one desire. + +The household comprised his unwedded sister Petronilla, a lady in +middle age, his nephew Basil, and another kinsman, Decius, a student +and an invalid; together with a physician, certain freedmen who +rendered services of trust, a eunuch at the Command of Petronilla, and +the usual body of male and female slaves. Some score of glebe-bound +peasants cultivated the large estate for their lord's behoof. +Notwithstanding the distress that had fallen upon the Roman nobility, +many of whom were sunk into indigence, the chief of the Anicii still +controlled large means; and the disposal of these possessions at his +death was matter of interest to many persons--not least to the clergy +of Rome, who found in the dying man's sister a piously tenacious +advocate. Children had been born to Maximus, but the only son who +reached mature years fell a victim to pestilence when Vitiges was +camped about the City. There survived one daughter, Aurelia. Her the +father had not seen for years; her he longed to see and to pardon ere +he died. For Aurelia, widowed of her first husband in early youth, had +used her liberty to love and wed a flaxen-haired barbarian, a lord of +the Goths; and, worse still, had renounced the Catholic faith for the +religion of the Gothic people, that heresy of Arianism condemned and +abhorred by Rome. In Consequence she became an outcast from her kith +and kin. Her husband commanded in the city of Cumae, hard by Neapolis. +When this stronghold fell before the advance of Belisarius, the Goth +escaped, soon after to die in battle; Aurelia, a captive of the +Conquerors, remained at Cumae, and still was living there, though no +longer under restraint. Because of its strength, this ancient city +became the retreat of many ladies who fled from Rome before the +hardships and perils of the siege; from them the proud and unhappy +woman, ever held apart, yet she refused to quit the town when she would +have been permitted to do so. From his terrace above the Surrentine +shore, Maximus gazed across the broad gulf to the hills that concealed +Cumae, yearning for the last of his children. When at length he wrote +her a letter, a letter of sad kindness, inviting rather than beseeching +her to visit him, Aurelia made no reply. Wounded, he sunk again into +silence, until his heart could no longer bear its secret burden, and he +spoke--not to Petronilla, from whose austere orthodoxy little sympathy +was to be expected--but to his nephew Basil, whose generous mettle +willingly lent itself to such a service as was proposed. On his +delicate mission, the young man set forth without delay. To Cumae, +whether by sea or land, was but a short journey: starting at daybreak, +Basil might have given ample time to his embassy, and have been back +again early on the morrow. But the second day passed, and he did not +return. Though harassed by the delay, Maximus tried to deem it of good +omen, and nursed his hope through another sleepless night. + +Soon after sunrise, he was carried forth to his place of observation, a +portico in semicircle, the marble honey-toned by time, which afforded +shelter from the eastern rays and commanded a view of vast extent. +Below him lay the little town, built on the cliffs above its +landing-place; the hillsides on either hand were clad with vineyards, +splendid in the purple of autumn, and with olives. Sky and sea shone to +each other in perfect calm; the softly breathing air mingled its +morning freshness with a scent of fallen flower and leaf. A rosy vapour +from Vesuvius floated gently inland; and this the eye of Maximus marked +with contentment, as it signified a favourable wind for a boat crossing +hither from the far side of the bay. For the loveliness of the scene +before him, its noble lines, its jewelled colouring, he had little +care; but the infinite sadness of its suggestion, the decay and the +desolation uttered by all he saw, sank deep into his heart. If his look +turned to the gleaming spot which was the city of Neapolis, there came +into his mind the sack and massacre of a few years ago, when Belisarius +so terribly avenged upon the Neapolitans their stubborn resistance to +his siege. Faithful to the traditions of his house, of his order, +Maximus had welcomed the invasion which promised to restore Italy to +the Empire; now that the restoration was effected, he saw with +bitterness the evils resulting from it, and all but hoped that this new +king of the Goths, this fortune-favoured Totila, might sweep the land +of its Greek oppressors. He looked back upon his own life, on the +placid dignity of his career under the rule of Theodoric, the offices +by which he had risen, until he sat in the chair of the Consul. Yet in +that time, which now seemed so full of peaceful glories, he had never +at heart been loyal to the great king; in his view, as in that of the +nobles generally, Theodoric was but a usurper, who had abused the +mandate intrusted to him by the Emperor Zeno, to deliver Italy from the +barbarians. When his own kinsmen, Boethius and Symmachus, were put to +death on a charge of treachery, Maximus burned with hatred of the Goth. +He regarded with disdain the principles of Cassiodorus, who devoted his +life to the Gothic cause, and who held that only as an independent +kingdom could there be hope for Italy. Having for a moment the ear of +Theodoric's daughter, Amalasuntha, when she ruled for her son, Maximus +urged her to yield her kingdom to the Emperor, and all but saw his +counsel acted upon. After all, was not Cassiodorus right? Were not the +senators who had ceaselessly intrigued with Byzantium in truth traitors +to Rome? It was a bitter thought for the dying man that all his life he +had not only failed in service to his country, but had obstinately +wrought for her ruin. + +Attendants placed food beside him. He mingled wine with water and +soothed a feverish thirst. His physician, an elderly man of Oriental +visage, moved respectfully to his side, greeted him as Illustrious, +inquired how his Magnificence had passed the latter part of the night. +Whilst replying, as ever courteously--for in the look and bearing of +Maximus there was that _senatorius decor_ which Pliny noted in a great +Roman of another time--his straining eyes seemed to descry a sail in +the quarter he continually watched. Was it only a fishing boat? Raised +upon the couch, he gazed long and fixedly. Impossible as yet to be sure +whether he saw the expected bark; but the sail seemed to draw nearer, +and he watched. + +The voice of a servant, who stood at a respectful distance, announced: +'The gracious Lady'; and there appeared a little procession. Ushered by +her eunuch, and attended by half a dozen maidens, one of whom held over +her a silk sunshade with a handle of gold, the sister of Maximus +approached at a stately pace. She was tall, and of features severely +regular; her dark hair--richer in tone and more abundant than her years +could warrant--rose in elaborate braiding intermingled with golden +threads; her waistless robe was of white silk adorned with narrow +stripes of purple, which descended, two on each side, from the +shoulders to the hem, and about her neck lay a shawl of delicate +tissue. In her hand, which glistened with many gems, she carried a +small volume, richly bound, the Psalter. Courtesies of the gravest +passed between her and Maximus, who, though he could not rise from his +couch, assumed an attitude of graceful deference, and Petronilla seated +herself in a chair which a slave had placed for her. After many +inquiries as to her brother's health, the lady allowed her eyes to +wander for a moment, then spoke with the smile of one who imparts rare +tidings. + +'Late last night--too late to trouble you with the news--there came a +post from the reverend deacon Leander. He disembarked yesterday at +Salernum, and, after brief repose, hopes to visit us. Your Amiability +will, I am sure, welcome his coming.' + +'Assuredly,' answered Maximus, bending his head, whilst his eyes +watched the distant sail. 'Whence comes he?' + +'From Sicily. We shall learn, I dare say, the business which took him +there,' added Petronilla, with a self-satisfied softening of her lips. +'The deacon is wont to talk freely with me of whatever concerns the +interests of our holy Church, even as I think you remember, has now and +then deigned--though I know not how I have deserved such honour--to +ask, I dare not say my counsel, but my humble thoughts on this or that. +I think we may expect him before morning. The day will not be too warm +for travel.' + +Maximus wore an anxious look, and spoke after hesitation. + +'Will his reverend leisure permit him to pass more than one day with +us?' + +'Earnestly I hope so. You, beyond doubt, dear lord, my brother, will +desire long privacy with the holy man. His coming at this time is +plainly of Heaven's direction.' + +'Lady sister,' answered Maximus, with the faintest smile on his sad +features, 'I would not willingly rob you of a moment's conference with +the good deacon. My own business with him is soon despatched. I would +fain be assured of burial in the Temple of Probus where sleep our +ancestors.' + +'Of that,' replied Petronilla, solemnly and not unkindly, 'doubt not +for a moment. Your body shall lie there, by the blessed Peter's +sanctuary, and your tomb be honoured among those of the greatest of our +blood. But there is another honour that I covet for you, an honour +above all that the world can bestow. In these sad times, Maximus, the +Church has need of strengthening. You have no children--' + +A glance from the listener checked her, and, before she could resume, +Maximus interposed in a low voice: + +'I have yet a daughter.' + +'A daughter?' exclaimed Petronilla, troubled, confused, scarce subduing +indignation. + +'It is better I should tell you,' continued her brother, with some +sternness, resulting from the efforts to command himself, 'that Basil +is gone to Cumae to see Aurelia, and, if it may be, to lead her to me. +Perhaps even now'--he pointed to the sea--'they are on the way hither. +Let us not speak of it, Petronilla,' he added in a firmer tone. 'It is +my will; that must suffice. Of you I ask nothing save silence.' + +The lady arose. Her countenance expressed angry and bitter feeling, but +there was no danger of her uttering what she thought. Gravely, somewhat +coldly, she spoke good wishes for her brother's ease during the day, +and so retired with her retinue. Alone, Maximus sighed, and looked +again across the waters. + +In a few minutes the servant who guarded his privacy was again heard +announcing the lord Decius. The Senator turned his eyes with a look of +good-humoured greeting. + +'Abroad so early, good cousin? Did the oil fail you last night and send +you too soon to bed?' + +'You have not chanced to remember, dear my lord, what day it is?' +returned Decius, when he had bestowed a kiss on his kinsman's cheek. +'Had I but vigour enough, this morning would have seen me on a +pilgrimage to the tomb.' He put out a hand towards Neapolis. 'I rose at +daybreak to meditate the Fourth Eclogue.' + +'The ides of October--true. I take shame to myself for having lost the +memory of Virgil in my own distresses.' + +Decius, whose years were scarce thirty, had the aspect and the gait of +an elderly man; his thin hair streaked with grey, his cheeks hollow, +his eyes heavy, he stooped in walking and breathed with difficulty; the +tunic and the light cloak, which were all his attire, manifested an +infinite carelessness in matters of costume, being worn and soiled. +Than he, no Roman was poorer; he owned nothing but his clothing and a +few books. Akin to the greatest, and bearing a name of which he was +inordinately proud--as a schoolboy he had once burst into tears when +reciting with passion the Lay of the Decii--felt content to owe his +sustenance to the delicate and respectful kindness of Maximus, who +sympathised with the great wrong he had suffered early in life. This +was no less than wilful impoverishment by his father, who, seeking to +atone for sins by fanaticism, had sold the little he possessed to found +a pilgrims' hospice at Portus, whither, accompanied by the +twelve-year-old boy, he went to live as monk-servitor In a year or two +the penitent died; Decius, in revolt against the tasks to which he was +subjected, managed to escape, made his way to Rome, and appealed to +Maximus. Nominally he still held the post of secretary to his +benefactor, but for many years he had enjoyed entire leisure, all of it +devoted to study. Several times illness had brought him to the +threshold of death, yet it had never conquered his love of letters, his +enthusiasm for his country's past. Few liked him only one or two +understood him: Decius was content that it should be so. + +'Let us speak of it,' he continued, unrolling a manuscript of Virgil +some two hundred years old, a gift to him from Maximus. 'Tell me, dear +lord, your true thought: is it indeed a prophecy of the Divine Birth? +To you'--he smiled his gentle, beautiful smile--'may I not confess that +I have doubted this interpretation? Yet'--he cast his eyes down--'the +doubt is perhaps a prompting of the spirit of evil.' + +'I know not, Decius, I know not,' replied the sick man with thoughtful +melancholy. 'My father held it a prophecy his father before him.--But +forgive me, I am expecting anxiously the return of Basil; yonder +sail--is it his? Your eyes see further than mine.' + +Decius at once put aside his own reflections, and watched the oncoming +bark. Before long there was an end of doubt. Rising in agitation to his +feet, Maximus gave orders that the litter, which since yesterday +morning had been in readiness, should at once be borne with all speed +down to the landing-place. Sail and oars soon brought the boat so near +that Decius was able to descry certain female figures and that of a +man, doubtless Basil, who stood up and waved his arms shoreward. + +'She has come,' broke from Maximus; and, in reply to his kinsman's face +of inquiry, he told of whom it was he spoke. + +The landing-place was not visible from here. As soon as the boat +disappeared beneath the buildings of the town, Maximus requested of his +companion a service which asked some courage in the performance: it +was, to wait forthwith upon the Lady Petronilla, to inform her that +Aurelia had just disembarked, to require that three female slaves +should be selected to attend upon the visitor. This mission Decius +discharged, not without trembling; he then walked to the main entrance +of the villa, and stood there, the roll of Virgil still in his hand, +until the sound of a horse's hoofs on the upward road announced the +arrival of the travellers. The horseman, who came some yards in advance +of the slave-borne litter, was Basil. At sight of Decius, he +dismounted, and asked in an undertone: 'You know?' The other replied +with the instructions given by Maximus, that the litter, which was +closed against curious eyes, should be straightway conveyed to the +Senator's presence, Basil himself to hold apart until summoned. + +And so it was done. Having deposited their burden between two columns +of the portico, the bearers withdrew. The father's voice uttered the +name of Aurelia, and, putting aside the curtains that had concealed +her, she stood before him. A woman still young, and of bearing which +became her birth; a woman who would have had much grace, much charm, +but for the passion which, turned to vehement self-will, had made her +blood acrid. Her great dark eyes burned with quenchless resentment; her +sunken and pallid face told of the sufferings of a tortured pride. + +'Lord Maximus,' were her first words, as she stood holding by the +litter, glancing distrustfully about her, 'you have sworn!' + +'Hear me repeat my oath,' answered the father, strengthened by his +emotion to move forward from the couch. 'By the blessed martyr +Pancratius, I swear that no harm shall befall you, no constraint shall +be put upon you, that you shall be free to come and to go as you will.' + +It was the oath no perjurer durst make. Aurelia gazed into her father's +face, which was wet with tears. She stepped nearer to him, took his +thin, hot hand, and, as in her childhood, bent to kiss the back of the +wrist. But Maximus folded her to his heart. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +BASIL'S VISION + + +Basil and Decius paced together a garden alley, between a row of +quince-trees and a hedge of Christ's-thorn; at one end was a fountain +in a great basin of porphyry, at the other a little temple, very old +and built for the worship of Isis, now an oratory under the invocation +of the Blessed Mary. The two young men made a singular contrast, for +Basil, who was in his twenty-third year, had all the traits of health +and vigour: a straight back, lithe limbs, a face looking level on the +world, a lustrous eye often touched to ardour, a cheek of the purest +carnation, a mouth that told of fine instincts, delicate sensibilities, +love of laughter. No less did his costume differ from the student's +huddled garb; his tunic was finely embroidered in many hues, his silken +cloak had a great buckle of gold on the shoulder; he wore ornate shoes, +and by his waist hung a silver-handled dagger in a sheath of chased +bronze. He stepped lightly, as one who asks but the occasion to run and +leap. In their intimate talk, he threw an arm over his companion's +neck, a movement graceful as it was affectionate; his voice had a note +frank and cordial. + +Yet Basil was not quite his familiar self to-day; he talked with less +than his natural gaiety, wore a musing look, fell into silences. Now +that Aurelia had come, there was no motive for reserve on that subject +with Decius, and indeed they conversed of their kinswoman with perfect +openness, pitying rather than condemning her, and wondering what would +result from her presence under one roof with the rigid Petronilla. Not +on Aurelia's account did Basil droop his head now and then, look about +him vacantly, bite his lip, answer a question at hazard, play nervously +with his dagger's hilt. All at once, with an abruptness which moved his +companion's surprise, he made an inquiry, seemingly little relevant to +their topic. + +'Heard you ever of a Gothic princess--a lady of the lineage of +Theodoric--still living in Italy?' + +'Never,' responded Decius, with a puzzled smile. 'Is there such a one?' + +'I am told so--I heard it by chance. Yet I know not who she can be. Did +not the direct line of Theodoric end with Athalaric and his sister +Matasuntha, who is now at the Emperor's court?' + +'So I believed,' said Decius, 'though I have thought but little of the +matter.' + +'I too, trust me,' let fall Basil, with careful carelessness; no actor +he. 'And the vile Theodahad--what descendants did he leave?' + +'He was a scholar,' said the other musingly, 'deep read in Plato.' + +'None the less a glutton and a murderer and a coward, who did well to +give his throat to the butcher as he ran away from his enemies. +Children he had, I think--but--' + +Basil broke off on a wandering thought. He stood still, knitted his +brows, and sniffed the air. At this moment there appeared in the alley +a serving man, a young and active fellow of very honest visage, who +stood at some yards' distance until Basil observed him. + +'What is it, Felix?' inquired his master. + +The attendant stepped forward, and made known that the lord Marcian had +even now ridden up to the villa, with two followers, and desired to +wait upon Basil. This news brought a joyful light to the eyes of the +young noble; he hastened to welcome his friend, the dearest he had. +Marcian, a year or two his elder, was less favoured by nature in face +and form: tall and vigorous enough of carriage, he showed more bone and +sinew than flesh; and his face might have been that of a man worn by +much fasting, so deep sunk were the eyes, so jutting the cheek-bones, +and so sharp the chin; its cast, too, was that of a fixed and native +melancholy. But when he smiled, these features became much more +pleasing, and revealed a kindliness of temper such as might win the +love of one who knew him well. His dress was plain, and the dust of +Campanian roads lay somewhat thick upon him. + +'By Bacchus!' cried his friend, as they embraced each other, 'fortune +is good to me to-day. Could I have had but one wish granted, it would +have been to see Marcian. I thought you still in Rome. What makes you +travel? Not in these days solely to visit a friend, I warrant. By Peter +and Paul and as many more saints as you can remember, I am glad to hold +your hand! What news do you bring?' + +'Little enough,' answered Marcian, with a shrug of the shoulders. The +natural tune of his voice harmonised with his visage, and he spoke as +one who feels a scornful impatience with the affairs of men. 'At Rome, +they wrangle about goats' wool, as is their wont. Anything else? Why, +yes; the freedman Chrysanthus glories in an ex-consulate. It cost him +the trifle of thirty pounds of gold.' + +Basil laughed contemptuously, half angrily. + +'We must look to our honours,' he exclaimed. 'If Chrysanthus be +ex-consul, can you and I be satisfied with less than +ex-Praetorian-Prefect? What will be the price, think you? Has Bessas +hung out a tariff yet in the Forum?' + +'He knows better than to fix a maximum, as long as a wealthy fool +remains in the city--though that won't be much longer, I take it.' + +'Why come you hither, dear my lord?' urged Basil, with more seriousness. + +Regarding him with a grave eye, his friend replied in an undertone: + +'To spy upon you.' + +'Ha!--In very truth?' + +'You could wish me a more honourable office,' Marcian went on, smiling +sadly. 'Yet, if you think of it, in these days, it is some honour to be +a traitor to both sides. There has been talk of you in Rome. Nay, who +knows how or why! They have nothing to do but talk, and these victories +of the Goth have set up such a Greek cackle as was never heard since +Helen ran away to Troy,--and, talking of Greek, I bear a letter for you +from Heliodora.' + +Basil, who had been listening gravely, started at this name and uttered +an idle laugh. From a wallet hanging at his girdle, Marcian drew forth +the missive. + +'That may wait,' said Basil, glancing indifferently at the folded and +sealed paper before he hid it away. 'Having said so much, you must tell +me more. Put off that sardonic mask--I know very well what hides +beneath it--and look me in the eye. You have surprised some danger?' + +'I heard you spoken of--by one who seldom opens his lips but to ill +purpose. It was not difficult for me to wade through the shallows of +the man's mind, and for my friend's sake to win his base confidence. +Needing a spy, and being himself a born traitor, he readily believed me +at his beck; in truth he had long marked me, so I found, for a cankered +soul who waited but the occasion to advance by infamy. I held the +creature in my hand; I turned him over and over, and he, the while, +thinking me his greedy slave. And so, usurping the place of some other +who would have ambushed you in real enmity, I came hither on his +errand.' + +'Marcian,' said the listener, 'I could make a guess at that man's name.' + +'Nay, I doubt if you could, and indeed it matters nothing. Enough that +I may do you some little service.' + +'For which,' replied Basil, 'I cannot pay you, since all my love is +already yours. And she--Heliodora,' he added, with a careless gesture, +'knows of your mission?' + +'Of my mission, no; but of my proposed journey. Though indeed she may +know more than I suppose. Who shall say what reaches the ear of +Heliodora--?' + +'You have not heard perhaps that her husband is dead?' + +'The Prefect dead?' exclaimed Basil. + +'Three weeks ago.--Rather suddenly--after supper. An indigestion, no +doubt.' + +Marcian spoke with peculiar dryness, averting his eyes from the +listener. Upon Basil's face came a deep flush; he took out the folded +paper again, and held it at arm's length. + +'You mean--? You think--?' he stammered. + +'About women I think not at all,' said the other, 'as you well know. +There is talk, talk--what care I?' + +Basil tore the letter open. It contained a lock of raven-black hair, +tied with gold thread, and on the paper was written, in Greek, 'I am +free.' Again his cheek flushed; he crushed paper and hair together in +his hand. + +'Let us never again speak of her,' he exclaimed, moving away from the +spot. 'Before I left Rome, I told you that I would gladly see her no +more, and you smiled dubiously. Believe me now. I abhor the thought of +her. If she ask you for my reply, repeat those words.' + +'Nay, dear my lord, in that I will beg to be excused,' replied Marcian +with his melancholy smile. + +They were walking silently, side by side, when the servant Felix again +presented himself before them. Maximus, having heard of the arrival of +Marcian from Rome, requested that he and Basil would grant him a moment +of their leisure. At once the young men turned to obey this summons. On +the way, Basil communicated to his friend in a whisper the event of the +day. A couple of hours having passed since Aurelia's coming, the +Senator had in some degree recovered from his agitation; he lay now in +a room which opened upon the central court of the villa, a room adorned +with rich marbles and with wall-paintings which were fading under the +hand of time. Deathly pale, scarce able to raise his head from the +cushion of the couch, he none the less showed a countenance bright with +joyous emotion. His quivering voice strove to welcome the visitor +cheerily. + +'What news from the city, dear lord Marcian? How are all our friends? +Do they begin to forget us?' + +'Not so, Illustrious,' answered the young man, with head bent. 'You are +much desired in the Senate, where grave counsel is just now greatly in +demand.' + +'The Senate, the Senate,' murmured Maximus, as if reminded of something +he had long forgotten. 'They must needs lack my voice, I fear. What do +men say of the Gothic king?' + +Marcian threw a glance at Basil, then towards the curtained portals of +the room; lastly, his eyes turned upon the sick man, whom he regarded +steadily. + +'They say much--or little,' fell from his lips. + +'I understand you,' replied the Senator, with a friendly movement of +the head. 'Here we may speak freely. Does Totila draw near to Rome?' + +'He is still in Tuscany, and rumours come from his army that he will +pass into Samnium. All the strongholds of Umbria are his; all the +conquests of Belisarius from Ariminum to Spoletium.' + +'Where are the Roman captains?' + +'Each in his city of the far north, holding the plunder he has got, and +looking for the chance of more. In Rome--' + +Marcian paused significantly, and the Senator took up his words. + +'In Rome rules Bessas.' + +'The Thracian,' remarked Basil bitterly. + +'And in Ravenna,' added the sick man, 'Alexandros--the coin-clipper.' + +The eyes of Basil and of Marcian encountered. Between them came no +shadow of distrust, the smile they exchanged told of loyal affection. + +'This Totila,' pursued Marcian, 'seems to be not only a brave and +capable commander, but a shrewd politician. Everywhere he spares the +people; he takes nothing by force; his soldiers buy at market; he +protects the farmer against the taxing Greek. As a result, his army +grows; where he passes, he leaves a good report, and before him goes a +welcome. At this rate he will soon make all Italy his own. And unless +the Patricius returns--' + +By this title men were wont to speak of Belisarius. Hearing it, Basil +threw up an arm, his eyes flashing. + +'The Patricius!' he exclaimed fervently. 'There is the man who might +have saved us!' + +'By the holy Laurentius!' murmured Maximus, looking sadly at his +nephew, 'I have all but come to think as you do.' + +'Who that knew him,' cried Basil, 'but must have seen him, in +thought--not King, for only the barbarians have kings--but +Emperor--Emperor of the West, ruling at Rome as in the days gone by! +There lives no man more royal. I have seen him day by day commanding +and taking counsel; I have talked with him in his privacy. In the camp +before Ravenna there was but one voice, one hope, as to what should +follow when the city opened its gates, and the Goths themselves only +surrendered because they thought to be ruled by him. But for the +scruple of his conscience--and should not that have yielded to the +general good?' + +'Is breach of faith so light a thing?' fell from Marcian, under his +breath. + +'Nay,' answered the other, with drooping head, 'but he did break faith +with _us_. We had his promise; we saw him Emperor--' + +'You should have won Antonina,' said Marcian, with a return to his +sarcastic humour. 'She must have mused long and anxiously, weighing the +purple against Theodora's fury. The Patrician's fidelity stood by his +wife's prudence.' + +'The one blot upon his noble nature,' uttered Basil, with a sigh. 'His +one weakness. How,' he cried scornfully, 'can the conqueror of half the +world bend before such a woman?' + +Fatigued already by the conversation, Maximus had lain back and closed +his eyes. Very soon the two young men received his permission to +withdraw, and, as they left the room, the physician entered. Obedient +to this counsellor the invalid gave several hours to repose, but midway +in the afternoon he again summoned his daughter, with whom he had a +long and agitating conversation. He besought Aurelia to cast off her +heretical religion, putting before her all the perils to which she +exposed herself, by abandonment of the true faith, in this world and +the next. His life was hurrying to its end; hour by hour he felt the +fever wasting what little strength remained to him; and when he was +gone who would protect her against the enmities to which religion and +avarice would expose her? Aurelia's resistance was sullen rather than +resolute; her countenance, her words, suggested that she was thinking +more of what it would cost her pride to become a penitent than of any +obstacle in conscience. At length she declared plainly that never would +she humiliate herself before her aunt Petronilla, who had offered her +no greeting and held scornfully apart. Here, as Maximus too well knew, +lay the great difficulty of the situation; these women hated each +other, and their hate would only be exasperated by Aurelia's +conversion. He spoke of the deacon Leander, now on his way +hither--begged Aurelia to listen to the reverend man, and gave solemn +assurance that, the moment she abjured her errors, he would place her +in a position of wealth and authority far above that of Petronilla. So +utterly did he exhaust himself in entreaty and argument that he fell +into a fainting fit. The physician was called for, and Aurelia, she too +overcome with violent emotions, again retired to the part of the villa +which had been assigned to her. + +The Anicii of a bygone time, who took their solace here when marbles +and mosaics, paintings and tapestries, were yet new, would have looked +with consternation on halls so crumbling and bare, chambers so +ill-appointed, as these in which the guests of the Senator Maximus had +their dwelling. Space there was in abundance, but of comfort in the +guest-rooms little enough; and despite her brother's commands, +Petronilla had seen to it that Aurelia was not luxuriously lodged. +Better accommodation awaited the deacon Leander, whose arrival was +announced an hour before sunset by a trotting courier. His journey from +Salernum had so wearied the ecclesiastic that he could but give a hand +to be kissed by his hostess, and straightway retire into privacy; the +repast that was ready for him had to be served beside his couch, and +soon after night had fallen, Leander slumbered peacefully. Meanwhile +Basil and Decius and their friend from Rome had supped together, making +what cheer they might under the circumstances; the Surrentine wine was +a little acrid, falling short of its due age, but it sufficed to +animate the talk. Presently Decius withdrew, to study or to meditate +through some hours of the night, for he slept ill; the others, going +apart to a gallery lighted by the full moon, sat wrapped in thick, +hooded cloaks, to converse awhile before they slept. With their voices +mingled the soft splash of a fountain. + +Basil was telling of his journey to Cumae, and of the difficulty he had +had in persuading Aurelia to visit her father. + +'Does she live alone there?' inquired Marcian. + +There was a pause before the reply, and when Basil spoke his voice fell +to a note of half-hesitating confidence. + +'Alone? yes,' he said, 'in the sense that no relative abode with her; +but she had a companion--a lady--very young.' And here he again paused, +as if in some embarrassment. + +'A Roman?' was Marcian's next question, carelessly thrown out for he +had little interest in Aurelia, and was half occupied with other +thoughts. + +'No,' answered Basil, his voice subdued. 'A Goth; and, she says, of the +royal blood, of the line of Theodoric.' + +His friend became attentive. 'A Gothic princess? Whose daughter, then?' +asked Marcian. And Basil, who desired nothing more than to speak on +this subject, little by little threw off his hesitancy, grew rapid and +eager in narration. He told how, on his first introduction to Aurelia's +presence, he had found sitting with her a young girl, whose aspect +proclaimed her of the Gothic race. In a second interview with his +cousin, alone, Aurelia had spoken of this companion, bestowing much +praise upon her, and declaring that they were united by an affection +which nothing could diminish. She was of Amal blood; more than that +Aurelia seemed unwilling to reveal. + +'Did you not learn her name?' asked the listener. + +'Veranilda.' + +Marcian echoed the melodious syllables, but they told him nothing. + +'And did you make no inquiry of those with whom you spoke?' + +'I conversed as little as might be with strangers, and purposely held +apart from our acquaintances in the town; this was my uncle's express +command.' + +'You had no second sight of her?' + +'Indeed I had; and talked with her moreover. Marcian, how can I +describe her to you? The words which suffice for common beauty sound +meaningless when I would use them to depict Veranilda. Shall I tell you +that she has hair of the purest gold, eyes brighter than the sky at +noon, lips like the flower of the pomegranate, a cheek so fair, so +soft--nay, you may well laugh at these idle phrases--' + +'Not your phrases,' said Marcian, 'but your voice as it utters them +sets me smiling. Talk on. The chaste goddess who beams above us inspire +you with worthy terms!' + +'There you speak to the point,' pursued Basil ardently. 'For Veranilda +is chaste as she is beautiful. Blessed saints! how my heart shrank in +abhorrence when I saw that letter this morning; and how fain I would +blot from my memory that baseness of the past! O Marcian, truest of +friends, I slighted your counsel, scoffed at your warnings, but now I +know how wisely and how honestly you spoke.' + +'Be that as it may,' said the other. 'But is it possible that, on a +mere glimpse, this Gothic maiden should so have vanquished you?' + +'It had been more prudent to hold my peace. But you know me of old. +When I am moved, I must needs unbosom myself; happy that I have one +whom I can trust. Her voice, Marcian! This whisper of the night breeze +in the laurels falls rudely upon the ear after Veranilda's speech. +Never have I heard a tone so soft, so gentle. The first word she spoke +thrilled through me, as never did voice before; and I listened, +listened, hoping she would speak again.' + +'Who may she be? Has not the lady Aurelia adorned her origin? Golden +hair and blue eyes are no rarity among daughters of the Goths.' + +'Had you seen her!' exclaimed Basil, and grew rapturous again. Whilst +he exhausted language in the effort to prove how remote was Veranilda +from any shape of loveliness easily presented by memory or imagination, +Marcian pondered. + +'I can think of but one likelihood,' was his quiet remark, when his +friend had become silent. 'King Theodahad had a daughter, who married +the Gothic captain, Ebrimut.' + +'The traitor,' murmured Basil uneasily. + +'Or friend of the Romans, as you will. He delivered Rhegium to +Belisarius, and enjoys his reward at Byzantium. What if he left a child +behind him?' + +Basil repulsed the suggestion vehemently. + +'Not that! I had half thought of it myself; but no. Aurelia said of the +house of Theodoric.' + +'Why so would be a daughter of Ebrimut, through her mother--who was the +daughter of Theodahad, who was the son of Amalafrida, who was the +sister of Theodoric himself.' + +'She could not have meant that,' protested Basil. 'Child of a mercenary +traitor, who opened Italy to his people's foe! Not that! Had you seen +her, you would not believe it.' + +'Oh, my good Basil,' laughed the other, 'do you think I should see her +with your eyes? But perhaps we conjecture idly quite missing the mark. +What does it matter? You have no intention, I hope, of returning to +Cumae?' + +Basil opened his lips to reply, but thought better of it, and said +nothing. Then his friend turned to speak of the ecclesiastical visitor +who had that evening arrived, and, the subject not proving very +fruitful, each presently betook himself to his night's repose. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE DEACON LEANDER + + +The deacon Leander was some forty years of age, stoutish, a trifle +asthmatic, with a long visage expressive of much shrewdness, and bushy +eyebrows, which lent themselves at will to a look of genial +condescension, of pious austerity, or of stern command. His dark hair +and reddish beard were carefully trimmed; so were the nails of his +shapely, delicate hands. His voice, now subject to huskiness, had until +a few years ago been remarkably powerful and melodious; no deacon in +Rome was wont to excite more admiration by his chanting of the Gradual; +but that glory had passed away, and at the present time Leander's +spiritual activity was less prominent than his services as a most +capable steward of the patrimony of St. Peter. He travelled much, had +an extensive correspondence, and was probably rather respected than +reverenced by most lay folk with whom he came in contact. + +But in the eyes of the lady Petronilla, Leander was an ideal churchman. +No one treated her judgment with so much respect; no one confided to +her curious ear so many confidential matters, ranging from the secret +scandals of aristocratic Rome to high debates of ecclesiastical +polity--or what Petronilla regarded as such. Their closer acquaintance +began with the lady's presentation of certain columns of tawny Numidian +marble, from a ruined temple she had inherited, to the deacon's +basilica, St. Laurentius; and many were the donations which Leander had +since accepted from her on behalf of the Church. In return, he had once +or twice rejoiced her with the gift of a precious relic, such as came +into the hands of few below royal rank; thus had Petronilla obtained +the filings of the chain of St. Peter, which, enclosed in a golden key, +hung upon her bosom. Some day, as the deacon well knew, this pious +virgin would beg him to relieve her of all her earthly possessions, and +enter into some holy retreat; but she awaited the death of her brother, +by whose will she would doubtless benefit more or less substantially. + +If in view of the illness of Maximus, Petronilla had regarded the +deacon's visit as providential, the event of yesterday moved her to a +more agitated thankfulness for the conference she was about to enjoy. +After a night made sleepless by dread and wrath, she rose at daybreak +and passed in a fever of impatience the time which elapsed before her +reverend guest issued from his chamber. This being the fourth day of +the week, Petronilla held rigid fast until the hour of nones; and of +course no refreshment was offered to the churchman, who, with that +smiling placidity, that graceful self-possession, which ever +distinguished him in such society, at length entered the inner hall, +and suavely, almost tenderly, greeted his noble hostess. Brimming over +as she was with anxiety and indignation, Petronilla allowed nothing of +this to appear in her reception of the revered friend. To his inquiries +touching the health of the Senator, she replied with significant +gravity that Maximus had suffered during the night, and was this +morning, by the physician's report, much weaker; she added not a word +on the momentous subject presently to be broached. Then Leander, after +viewing with many compliments a piece of rich embroidery which occupied +the lady's leisure, and or its completion would of course be put at his +disposal, took a seat, set the tips of his fingers together, and began +to chat pleasantly of his journey. Many were the pious offerings which +had fallen to him upon his way: that of the Sicilian lady who gave her +little all to be used to maintain the lamps in the basilica of the +Chief Apostle; that of the merchant encountered on shipboard, who gave +ten pounds of gold to purchase the freedom of slaves; that of the +wealthy curial in Lucania, healed of disease by miracle on the feast of +St. Cyprian, who bestowed upon the church in gratitude many acres of +olive-bearing land, and promised an annual shipload of prime hogs to +feed St. Peter's poor. By smooth transition he passed to higher themes: +with absent eyes turned to the laurel-planted court on to which the +hall opened, he spoke as if scarcely aware of a listener, of troubles +at Rome occasioned by imprudences, indiscretions--what should he +say--of the Holy Father. As Petronilla bent forward, all tremulous +curiosity, he lowered his voice, grew frankly confidential. The Pope +had been summoned to Byzantium, to discuss certain points of doctrine +with the Emperor; his departure was delayed, but no doubt in his +weakness he would obey. Verily, the lack of courage--not to use severer +terms--so painfully evident in Pope Vigilius, was a grave menace to the +Church--the Catholic Church, which, rightly claiming to rule +Christendom, should hold no terms with the arrogance of Justinian. +Could it be wondered that the Holy Father was disliked--not to say +hated--by the people of Rome? By his ill management the papal granaries +had of late been so ill stored that the poor had suffered famine, the +Greeks having put an end to that gratuitous distribution of food to +which the Roman populace had from of old been accustomed. On this +account, chiefly, had Leander journeyed to Sicily, to look after the +supplies of corn, and seek out those who were to blame for the recent +negligence. His bushy eyebrows gave a hint of their sterner +possibilities as he spoke of the measures he had taken, the reproofs +and threats he had distributed. + +'May I live,' breathed Petronilla, with modest emphasis, 'to see a +great, a noble, a puissant Pontiff in the Apostolic Chair!' + +Whereat the deacon smiled, well understanding whither the lady looked +for her ideal Pope. She went on to speak of the part Vigilius had +played in the deposition and miserable death of his predecessor +Silverius, and that, as was too well known, at the bidding of haughty, +unscrupulous women, the Empress Theodora and her friend Antonina, wife +of Belisarius. Verily, the time had come for a great reform at the +Lateran; the time had come, and perhaps the divine instrument was not +far to seek. Whereupon Petronilla murmured ardently, and the deacon +again smiled. + +There was a pause. Having permitted Leander to muse a little, his +hostess turned the conversation to the troublous topic of her thoughts; +and began by saying how her brother would esteem the privilege of +counsel and solace from one so qualified to impart them. But alas she +must make known a distressful occurrence, whereby the office of a +spiritual adviser by the bedside of Maximus must needs be complicated +and made painful; and therewith Petronilla related the events of +yesterday. As he listened, the deacon knitted his brows, but in thought +rather than in affliction; and when the speaker was silent, he still +mused awhile. + +'Gracious madam,' he began at length solemnly, 'you of course hold no +intercourse with this lady?' + +'None! I have shrunk ever from the sight of her.' + +'Such abhorrence of error witnesses to the purity and the illumination +of your soul: I could have expected nothing less from Petronilla. You +know not whether the misguided woman shows any disposition to return to +the true faith?' + +'I fear not,' replied Petronilla, looking rather as if the fear were a +hope. 'Her nature is stubborn: she has the pride of the fallen angels.' + +'And her father, I am afraid, has no longer the strength to treat her +sin with due severity?' + +'Earthly affection has subdued him,' replied the lady, shaking her +head. 'Who knows,' she added, 'how far his weakness may lead my poor +brother?' + +She glanced about the hall, and Leander perfectly understood what was +in her mind. + +'Be not over anxious,' he replied soothingly. 'Leave this in my hands. +Should it be necessary, I can dispose of some days before pursuing my +journey. Take comfort, noble and pious lady! The truth will prevail.' + +The deacon's first step was to obtain a private interview with the +physician. He then made known his desire to wait upon Maximus, and with +no great delay was admitted. Tactfully, sagaciously, he drew the +sufferer to confide in him, to see in him, not so much a spiritual +admonisher as a counsellor and a support in worldly difficulties. +Leander was already well aware that the Senator had small religious +zeal, but belonged to the class of men, numerous at this time, who, +whilst professing the Christian and the orthodox faith, were in truth +philosophers rather than devotees, and regarded dogmatic questions with +a calm not easily distinguished from indifference. Maximus had scarcely +spoken of his daughter, when the deacon understood it was Aurelia's +temporal, much more than her eternal, interests which disturbed the +peace of the dying man. Under Roman law, bequests to a heretic were +null and void; though this enactment had for the most part been set +aside in Italy under Gothic rule, it might be that the Imperial code +would henceforth prevail. Maximus desired to bestow upon his daughter a +great part of his possessions. Petronilla, having sufficient means of +her own, might well be content with a moderate bequest; Basil, the +relative next of kin, had a worthy claim upon his uncle's generous +treatment, and Decius, who needed but little, must have that little +assured. The father had hoped that his entreaties, together with a +prospect of substantial reward, would prevail against Aurelia's +pride-rooted heresy, but as yet he pleaded and tempted in vain. Could +the deacon help him? + +Leander seemed to meditate profoundly. The subject of his thought was +what seemed to him a glaring omission in this testament of Maximus. He +breathed an intimate inquiry: Was the sick man at peace with his own +soul? Had he sought strength and solace from the reverend presbyter of +Surrentum, his spiritual father in this district? Maximus replied that +he had neglected no ordinary means of grace. Whilst speaking, he met +the deacon's eye; its significance was not to be mistaken. + +'I should have mentioned,' he said, averting his look, 'that the +presbyter Andreas and his poor will not be forgotten. Moreover, many of +my slaves will receive their freedom.' + +Leander murmured approvingly. Again he reflected, and again he ventured +an inquiry: Maximus would desire, no doubt, to rest with his glorious +ancestors in the mortuary chapel known as the Temple of Probus, by St. +Peter's? And seeing the emotion this excited in his listener he went on +to speak at large of the Anician house--first among the great families +of Rome to embrace Christianity, and distinguished, generation after +generation, by their support of the church, which indeed numbered among +its Supreme Pontiffs one of their line, the third Felix. Did not the +illustrious father of Maximus lead the Christian senators in their +attack upon that lingering shame, the heathen Lupercalia, since so +happily supplanted by the Feast of the Purification of the Blessed +Mary? He, dying--added Leander, with an ecstatic smile--made over to +the Apostolic See an estate in Sicily which yielded every year two rich +harvests to the widows, the orphans, the sick, and the destitute of +Rome. + +'Deacon,' broke from the hot lips of Maximus, who struggled to raise +himself, 'if I do the like, will you swear to me to use your influence, +your power, for the protection of my daughter?' + +It was the voice of nature in its struggle with the universal doom; +reason had little part in the hope with which those fading eyes fixed +themselves upon the countenance of the self-possessed churchman. + +'Heaven forbid,' was Leander's reply, 'that I should bind myself in +such terms to perform an office of friendship, which under any +circumstances would be my anxious care.' + +'Even,' asked Maximus, 'if she persist in her heresy?' + +'Even so, my dear lord, remembering from whom she springs. But,' he +added, in a soothing voice, 'let me put your mind at rest. Trust me, +the lady Aurelia will not long cling to her error. In poverty, in +humiliation, she might be obstinate; but as the possessor of +wealth--restored to her due rank--oh, my gracious lord, be assured that +her conversion will soon follow.' + +The same thought had occurred to Maximus. He sighed in profound relief, +and regarded the deacon gratefully. + +'In that hope I rest. Give me your promise to befriend her, and ask of +me what you will.' + +Save for the hours she passed at her father's side, Aurelia kept a +strict retirement, guarded by the three female slaves whom Petronilla +had reluctantly assigned to her. Of them she required no intimate +service, having her own attendants, an elderly woman, the nurse of her +childhood, who through all changes of fortune had never quitted her, +and a younger, half-Goth, half-Italian, who discharged humbler duties. +She occupied a small dwelling apart from the main structure of the +villa, but connected with it by a portico: this was called the House of +Proba, it having been constructed a hundred years ago for the lady +Faltonia Proba, who wrote verses, and perhaps on that account desired a +special privacy. Though much neglected, the building had beauty of +form, and was full of fine work in mosaic. Here, in a little peristyle, +where shrubs and creepers had come to wild growth, the sore-hearted +lady sat brooding or paced backwards and forwards, her eyes ever on the +ground. When yet a maiden she had several times spent summer at +Surrentum; her memory revived that early day which seemed so long ago; +she lived again with her brothers and sisters, all dead, with her +mother whom griefs had aged so soon. Then came a loveless marriage, +which soon involved her in the public troubles of the time; for her +husband, whose estates lay in Tuscany, was robbed of all by Theodahad, +and having vainly sought redress from the young King Athalaric, decided +to leave Italy for Byzantium, to which end Aurelia sold a property in +Campania, her dower. Before they could set forth upon their journey, +her husband caught the plague and died. In second wedlock she would +have known contentment but for the alienation of her kin and the +scornful hostility of all her class. When widowhood again befell her +she was saved from want by a small treasure of money which remained +hidden in the dwelling at Cumae when the Gothic warrior, her lord, +escaped from Belisarius. As this store diminished, Aurelia had looked +forward with dread, for she hoped nothing from her father. And now that +such fears seemed to be over, her long tortured pride clamoured for +solace. It was not enough to regain her father's love and enjoy an +inheritance; she wished to see her enemies at her feet, and to trample +upon them--her enemies being not only Petronilla and certain other +kinsfolk but all the nobility of Rome, nay, all the orthodox of the +Christian church. Pacing, pacing alone, she brooded vast schemes of +vengeance. + +When it was announced to her that the Roman deacon besought an +interview, she at first refused to receive him. Thereupon Leander sent +her a few lines in writing, most ceremoniously worded, in which he +declared that his purposes were those of a disinterested friend, that +no word such as could pain or offend her would pass his lips, and that +he had it in his power to communicate something which would greatly +benefit her. Aurelia reflected disdainfully, but at length consented to +the churchman's approach. Leander's bearing as he entered her presence +was as elaborately courteous as the phrasing of his letter. + +'Noble lady,' he began, standing with bowed head, 'let not your eyes +take note of my garb. See in me only a devoted servant of your +illustrious house. His Magnificence, your father, assured of the +sincerity wherewith I place at his command such powers and +opportunities as I owe to heaven's grace, has deigned to confide in me +regarding the disposition of his worldly affairs whereto he is prompted +by languishing health.' + +He paused a moment, but Aurelia had no word of reply to this exordium. +Seeing her keep the same haughty posture in her chair, with eyes +scornfully averted as if she scarce listened, Leander proceeded to +disclose his mind in less ornate terms By subtle grades of confidential +speech, beginning with a declaration of the sympathy moved in him by +the parent's love, the daughter's distress, he came with lowering +voice, with insinuating tone, with blandly tolerant countenance, to the +kernel of his discourse; it contained a suggestion which might--he only +said _might_--aid her amid the manifold perplexities of her position. +By this time Aurelia was more attentive; the churchman almost +affectionate in his suavity, grew still more direct; and at length, in +a voice which only reached the ear of the listener, he spoke thus: + +'I understand why you stepped aside from the way of truth; I perceive +the obstacles hindering your return. I know the tender impulses which +urge you to soothe your father's last hours, and, no less, the motives, +natural to a woman of your beauty, of your birth, which are at strife +with that tenderness and threaten to overcome it. Could you discover a +means of yielding to your filial affection, and at the same time +safeguarding your noble pride, would you not gladly use it? Such a +means I can point out to you.' + +He became silent, watching Aurelia. She, won by the perspicacity which +read her heart, had put aside all arrogance, and wore a look of grave +intentness. + +'Let me know it,' she murmured. + +'It is this. Return to the true belief, but guard awhile the secret of +your conversion. That it shall not be disclosed until you wish, I can +give you firm assurance--if need be, on solemn oath. You will privately +make known to your father that he has prevailed, thereby you put his +flesh and spirit at rest,--he will die blessing you, and enriching you +to the full extent of his desire. You will then also set your signature +to a paper, which I shall write, making confession of the orthodox +faith, and undertaking to be duly reconciled with the church, by the +imposition of hands, at some convenient season. That is all that will +be asked of you for the present. The lady Petronilla'--he all but +smiled in uttering the name--'shall not even suspect what has happened.' + +'Will this villa be mine?' asked the listener after brief reflection. + +'This villa shall be yours.' + +An exultant gleam shone in Aurelia's eyes. + +'Deacon,' she said sternly, 'your promise is not enough. Swear to me +that no one living, save my father and you, shall know.' + +From his bosom Leander drew forth a little golden cross. + +'This,' he said reverently, 'contains dust of iron from the bars on +which the blessed Laurentius suffered martyrdom.' + +'Swear also,' demanded Aurelia, 'by the Holy Pancratius.' In the name +of both saints Leander took his oath of secrecy. Petronilla was of +course aware that the deacon had been admitted to audience by her +niece. When he descended, she awaited him at the end of the portico, +and her look questioned him. + +'Stubborn, stubborn!' murmured Leander, shaking his head, and passed on +as though in troubled thought. + +Later in the day, when she had seen her father, Aurelia made known to +her cousin Basil, who had requested an interview, that he might come. +His cousin received him smilingly, almost affectionately. + +Marcian having this morning taken his leave, called away by some +unexplained business to Neapolis, Basil had been on the point of taking +Decius into his amorous confidence, when this summons rejoiced him. + +'Is the letter written?' were Basil's first words. + +'It is here. Can you despatch it at once?' + +'I will take it myself,' he answered promptly. + +Aurelia shook her head. + +'You must not. My father's life is fast failing. No one can say which +hour may be his last. If he asked for you, and you were absent--' + +'Felix shall go,' said Basil. 'The wind is favourable. He may have to +ride back to-morrow, but we can trust him to make all speed.' + +'He took the letter, which was superscribed, 'To the most noble lady +Veranilda.' + +'Dear cousin, you have spoken of me?' he asked with a wistful look. + +'I have said, good cousin,' Aurelia answered pleasantly, 'that you +wished to be spoken of.' + +'Only that?' + +'What more should I say? Your Amiability is too hasty. Remember that +you have scarce seen her.' + +'Scarce seen Veranilda!' exclaimed Basil. 'Why, it seems to me as +though I had known her for years! Have we not talked together?' + +'Once. The first time does not count; you exchanged hardly a dozen +words. When,' added Aurelia, smiling, 'were you so dashed in a maid's +presence?' + +'Nay, never! I am not accused of too much modesty; but when I entered +and looked on Veranilda--oh, it was the strangest moment of my life! +Noble cousin,' he added pleadingly, 'honoured Aurelia, do but tell me +what is her parentage?' + +'How does that concern your Excellence? I have told you all that it +imports you to know--at all events for the present. Cousin Basil, you +delay the letter; I should wish her to have it before nightfall, for +she thinks anxiously of me.' + +'I go. When may I again speak with you?' + +'You shall hear when I am at leisure.' + +Basil despatched his servant to Cumae not with one letter only, but +with two. Greatly daring, he had himself written to Veranilda; in brief +terms, but every word tremulous with his passion. And for half an hour +he stood watching the sail which wafted his messenger over the gulf, +ruffled to-day by a south-west wind, driver of clouds. Little thought +had he to give to the dying Maximus, but at the ninth hour he turned +his steps to the oratory, once a temple of Isis, and heard the office, +and breathed a prayer for his kindly relative. Which duty discharged, +he prayed more fervently, to whatever saint or deity has ear for such +petitions, that he might be loved by the Gothic maid. + +This evening Maximus seemed to suffer less. He lay with closed eyes, a +look of calm on his worn countenance. Beside him sat Decius, reading in +low tones from that treatise on the Consolation of Philosophy, which +Boethius wrote in prison, a hook wherein Maximus sought comfort, this +last year or two more often than in the Evangel, or the Lives of +Saints. Decius himself would have chosen a philosopher of older time, +but in the words of his own kinsman, Maximus found an appeal more +intimate, a closer sympathy, than in ancient teaching. He loved +especially the passages of verse; and when the reader came to those +lines-- + + 'O felix hominum genus, + Si vestros animos amor + Quo coelum regitur, regat,' + +he raised his hand, smiling with peculiar sweetness. + +'Pause there, O Decius,' he said, in a weak but clear voice; 'let me +muse awhile.' And he murmured the verses to himself. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +TO CUMAE + + +The Bishop of Surrentum, an elderly man and infirm, had for the past +fortnight been unable to leave his house, but day by day he received +news of what passed at the villa of Maximus, and held with the +presbyter, Andreas, many colloquies on that weighty topic, the +senator's testament. As it happened, neither bishop nor presbyter had +much aptitude for worldly affairs; they were honest, simple-minded +clerics, occupied with visions and marvels and the saving details of +dogma; exultant whenever a piece of good fortune befell their church, +but modest in urging a claim at the bedside of the sick. Being the son +of a freedman who had served in the Anician house, the bishop could not +approach Maximus without excessive reverence; before Petronilla he was +even more unduly awed. + +On Sunday morning the good prelate lay wakeful at the hour of matins, +and with quavering voice chanted to himself the psalm of the office +from which his weakness held him apart. Presently the door opened, and +in the dim lamp-light appeared the presbyter Andreas, stepping softly. +He made known that an urgent message had just summoned him to the +villa; Maximus was near his end. + +'I, too, will come,' exclaimed the bishop, rising in his bed and +ringing loudly a little hand-bell. + +'Venerable father! your health--' + +'Hasten, hasten, Andreas! I follow.' + +In less than an hour he descended from his litter, and, resting on the +arms of two servants, was conducted to the chamber of the dying man. +Andreas had just administered the last rites; whether the fixed eyes +still saw was doubtful. At a murmur of 'the bishop' those by the +doorway reverently drew aside. On one side of the bed were Aurelia and +the deacon; on the other, Petronilla and Basil and Decius. Though +kneeling, the senator's daughter held herself proudly. Though tears +were on her face, she hardly disguised an air of triumph. Nor was the +head of Petronilla bent; her countenance looked hard and cold as +marble. Leander, a model of decorum, stepped with grave greeting +towards the prelate, and whispered a word or two. In the stillness that +followed there quivered a deep breath. Flavius Anicius Maximus had +lived his life. + +When the bishop, supported by Leander and Andreas, rose from prayer, he +was led by the obsequious clerics to a hall illumined by several lamps, +where two brasiers gave forth a grateful glow in the chill of the +autumn morning. Round about the walls, in niches, stood busts carved or +cast of the ancestors of him who lay dead. Here, whilst voices of +lamentation sounded from without, Leander made known to the prelate and +the presbyter the terms of the will. Basil was instituted 'heir'; that +is to say, he became the legal representative of the dead man, and was +charged with the distribution of those parts of the estate bequeathed +to others. First of the legatees stood Aurelia. The listeners learnt +with astonishment that the obstinate heretic was treated as though her +father had had no cause of complaint against her; she was now mistress +of the Surrentine estate, as well as of the great house in Rome, and of +other property. A lamentable thing, the deacon admitted suavely; but, +for his part, he was not without hope, and he fixed his eyes with a +peculiar intensity on the troubled bishop. + +Petronilla drew near. The will was already known to her in every +detail, and she harboured a keen suspicion of the secret which lay +behind it. Leander, she could not doubt, was behaving to her with +duplicity, and this grieved her to the heart. It was to the bishop that +she now addressed herself. + +'Holy father, I am your suppliant. Not even for a day will I remain +under this roof, even if--which is doubtful--I should be suffered to do +so. I put myself under the protection of your Holiness, until such time +as I can set forth on my sad journey to Rome. At Surrentum I must abide +until the corpse of my brother can be conveyed to its final resting +place--as I promised him.' + +Much agitated, the prelate made answer that a fitting residence should +be prepared for her before noon, and the presbyter Andreas added that +he would instantly betake himself to the city on that business. +Petronilla thanked him with the loftiest humility. For any lack of +respect, or for common courtesy, to which they might be exposed ere +they quitted the villa, she besought their Sanctities not to hold her +responsible, she herself being now an unwilling intruder at this +hearth, and liable at any moment to insult. Uttering which words in a +resonant voice, she turned her eyes to where, a few yards away, stood +Aurelia, with Basil and Decius behind her. + +'Reverend bishop,' spoke a voice not less steady and sonorous than that +of the elder lady, 'should you suffer any discourtesy in my house, it +will come not from me, but from her who suggests its possibility, and +whose mind is bent upon such things. Indeed, she has already scanted +the respect she owes you in uttering these words. As for herself, +remain she here for an hour or for a month, she is in no danger of +insult--unless she deem it an insult to have her base falsehood flung +back at her, and the enmity in her fierce eyes answered with the scorn +it merits.' + +Petronilla trembled with wrath. + +'Falsehood!' she echoed, on a high, mocking note. 'A charge of +falsehood upon _her_ lips! Your Holiness will ere long, I do not doubt, +be enlightened as to that woman's principles in the matter of truth and +falsehood. Meanwhile, we shall consult our souls' welfare, as well as +our dignity, in holding as little intercourse as may be with one who +has renounced the faith in Christ.' + +Aurelia bent her eyes upon the deacon, who met the look with austere +fixedness. There was dead silence for a moment, then she turned to the +young men behind her. + +'My noble cousins, I desired your company because I foresaw this +woman's violence, and knew not to what length it might carry her. She +pretends to fear my tongue; for my part, I would not lightly trust +myself within reach of her hands, of which I learnt the weight when I +was a little child. Lord Decius, attend, I beg you, these reverend men +whilst they honour my house and on their way homeward. My cousin Basil, +I must needs ask you to be my guard, until I can command service here. +Follow me, I pray.' + +With another piercing glance at Leander she withdrew from the assembly. + +It was a morning of wind and cloud; the day broke sadly. When the first +gleam of yellow sunlight flitted over Surrentum towards the cliffs of +Capreae, silence had fallen upon the villa. Wearied by their night of +watching, the inhabitants slept, or at least reposed in privacy. But +this quiet was of short duration. When the customary bell had given +notice of the third hour, Aurelia called together the servants of the +house--only those who belonged to Petronilla failing to answer her +summons--and announced to them her new authority. At the same time the +steward of the estate read out a list of those slaves who, under the +will of Maximus, could claim their emancipation. The gathering having +dispersed, there appeared an attendant of the deacon Leander; his +reverend master would wait upon the lady Aurelia, as soon as her +leisure permitted, for the purpose of taking leave. Forthwith the +deacon was admitted. Alone in the great hall, Aurelia sat beside a +brasier, at which she warmed her hands; she scarcely deigned to glance +at the ecclesiastic. + +'You pursue your journey, reverend?' were her first words. + +'As far as Neapolis, gracious lady,' came the suave reply. 'There or in +the neighbourhood I shall remain at least ten days. Should you desire +to communicate with me--' + +'I think I can save that trouble,' interrupted Aurelia, with quivering +lips. 'All I have to say to your Sanctity, I will say at once. It is, +that you have enlightened me as to the value of solemn oaths on the +lips of the Roman clergy.' + +'Your meaning, dear madam?' asked Leander, with a look of bland disdain. + +'You have the face to ask it, deacon, after Petronilla's words this +morning?' + +'I feared they might mislead you. The lady Petronilla knows nothing of +what has passed between us. She spoke in anger, and hazarded an +accusation--as angry ladies are wont.' + +'Of course you say so,' returned Aurelia. 'I will believe you if you +give me back the paper I signed, and trust to my word for the +fulfilment of what I promised.' + +Leander smiled, almost as if he had heard some happy intelligence. + +'You ask,' he said, 'for a trust you yourself refuse.' + +'Then go your way, perjurer!' exclaimed Aurelia, her cheeks aflame with +passion. 'I know henceforth on whom to rely.' + +For a moment Leander stood as if reflecting on these last words; then +he bowed, and with placid dignity retired. + +Meanwhile Basil and Decius were conversing with Petronilla. Neither of +them had ever stood on terms of more than courteous forbearance with +this authoritative lady; at present they maintained their usual +demeanour, and did not think it needful to apologise for friendly +relations with Aurelia. The only subject on which Petronilla deigned to +hold colloquy with them was that of her brother's burial at Rome. +Should the transport be by land or by sea? This evening the corpse +would be conveyed to the cathedral of Surrentum, where due rites would +be performed early on the morrow; there it would remain in temporary +interment until a coffin of lead could be prepared, and arrangements +completed for the removal. Was the year too advanced, questioned +Petronilla, to allow of the sea voyage? On the other hand, would the +land journey be safe, having regard to the advance of the Gothic army? +Basil pronounced for the sea, and undertook to seek for a vessel. Was +he willing, asked Petronilla, to accompany the body to Rome? This +question gave Basil pause; he reflected uneasily; he hesitated. Yet who +could discharge this duty, if he did not? Suddenly ashamed of his +hesitation, the true reason of which could not be avowed, he declared +that he would make the voyage. + +Hereupon entered the deacon, who, the matter being put before him, +approved these arrangements. He himself would doubtless be in Rome +before the arrival of the remains of Maximus, and all the details of +the burial there might be left to him. So Petronilla thanked and +dismissed the young men, on whose retirement she turned eagerly to +Leander. + +'Forgive me!' broke from her lips. 'I know how deeply I have offended +your Sanctity. It was my fear that you would go away without a word. My +haste, my vehemence, merited even that punishment.' + +'Calm yourself, noble lady,' returned the deacon. 'I was indeed +grieved, but I know your provocation. We may speak on this subject +again; but not here. For the present, I take my leave of you, all being +ready for my departure. As you are quitting this house at once, you +need no counsel as to immediate difficulties; I will only say, in all +things be prudent, be self-controlled; before long, you may see reason +for the discreet silence which I urge upon you.' + +'When do you set forth to Rome?' asked Petronilla. 'If it might be my +privilege to journey in your company--?' + +'The day is uncertain,' replied Leander; 'but if it be possible for us +to travel together, trust me to beg for the honour. You shall hear of +my projects in a week's time from Neapolis.' + +Petronilla fell to her knees, and again besought his forgiveness with +his benediction. The deacon magnanimously granted both, and whilst +bending over the devout lady, whispered one word: + +'Patience!' + +An hour after mid-day, Petronilla quitted the villa. Her great +travelling chariot, drawn by four mules, wherein she and her most +precious possessions were conveyed, descended at a stately pace the +winding road to Surrentum. Before it rode Basil; behind came a laden +wagon, two light vehicles carrying female slaves, and mounted +men-servants, armed as though for a long and perilous journey. Since +the encounter before sunrise, there had been no meeting between the +hostile ladies. Aurelia signified her scorn by paying no heed to her +aunt's departure. + +Alone in her dominion, the inheritress entered the death-chamber, and +there passed an hour upon her knees. Whilst she was thus secluded, a +pealing storm traversed the sky. When Aurelia came forth again, her +face was wan, tearstained. She summoned her nurse, and held much talk +with her as to the significance of thunder whilst a corpse lay in the +house. The good woman, though she durst not utter all her thoughts, +babbled concern, and used the occasion to beseech Aurelia--as she had +often done since the death of her Gothic lord--to be reconciled with +the true church. + +'True church!' exclaimed Aurelia, with sudden passion. 'How do you know +which is the true church? Have not emperors, have not bishops and +numberless holy men lived and died in the faith I confess--?' + +She checked herself; grew silent, brooded. Meanwhile, the old nurse +talked on, and presently began to relate how a handmaid of Petronilla, +in going with her this morning, professed to know on the surest +evidence that Aurelia, by her father's deathbed, had renounced +Arianism. The sullen countenance of her mistress flashed again into +wrath. + +'Did I not forbid you,' cried Aurelia, 'to converse with those women? +And you dare repeat to me their loose-lipped chatter. I am too familiar +with you; go and talk with your kind; go!' + +Mutteringly the woman went apart. The mistress, alone, fell into a long +weeping. When she had sobbed herself into quiet once more, she sought a +volume of the Gospels, inserted her forefinger between the pages at +random, and anxiously regarded the passage thus chosen. + +'While ye have the light, believe in the light, that ye may be the +children of light.' + +She brooded, but in the end seemed to find solace. + +Basil was absent all day. On his return, just before sunset, Aurelia +met him in the atrium, heard the report of what he had done, and at +length asked whether, on the day after to-morrow, he could go to Cumae. + +'To Cumae?' exclaimed Basil. 'Ay, that I can! You are returning +thither?' + +'For a day only. I go to seek that which no one but myself can find.' + +The listener had no difficulty in understanding this; it meant, of +course, treasure concealed in the house Aurelia had long inhabited. + +'We must both go and return by sea,' said Aurelia, 'even though it +cause us delay. I have no mind to pass through Neapolis.' + +'Be it so. The sky will be calm when this storm has passed Shall you +return,' said Basil, 'alone?' + +'Alone? Do you purpose to forsake me?' + +'Think better of my manners, cousin--and more shrewdly of my meaning.' + +'You mean fairly, I trust?' she returned, looking him steadily in the +face. + +'Nay,' cried the young man vehemently, 'if I have any thought other +than honest, may I perish before I ever again behold her!' + +Aurelia's gaze softened. + +'It is well,' she said; 'we will speak again to-morrow.' + +That night Petronilla kept vigil in the church of Surrentum, Basil and +Decius relieving her an hour before dawn. At the funeral service, which +began soon after sunrise, the greater part of the townsfolk attended. +All were eager to see whether the daughter of Maximus would be present, +for many rumours were rife touching Aurelia, some declaring that she +had returned to the true faith, some that she remained obstinate in +heresy. Her failure to appear did not set the debate at rest. A servant +of Petronilla whispered it about that only by a false pretence of +conversion had Aurelia made sure her inheritance; and at the mere +thought of such wickedness the hearers shuddered, foretelling a dread +retribution. The clergy were mute on the subject, even with the most +favoured of their flock. Meanwhile the piety and austerity of +Petronilla made a safe topic of talk, and a long procession reverently +escorted her to her temporary abode near the bishop's house. + +To-day the clouds spent themselves in rain; before nightfall the +heavens began to clear. The island peak of Inarime stood purple against +a crimson sunset. After supper, Aurelia and Basil held conference. The +wind would not be favourable for their voyage; none the less, they +decided to start at the earliest possible hour. Dawn was but just +streaking the sky, when they rode down the dark gorge which led to the +shore, Basil attended by Felix, the lady by one maid. The bark awaited +them, swaying gently against the harbour-side. Aurelia descended to the +little cabin curtained off below a half-deck, and--sails as yet being +useless--four great oars urged the craft on its way. + +What little wind there was breathed from the north For an hour they +made but slow progress, but when the first rays of sun gleamed above +the mountains, the breeze shifted westward; sails were presently +hoisted, and the rippling water hissed before the prow. Soon a golden +day shone upon sea and land. Aurelia came forth on to the deck, and sat +gazing towards Neapolis. + +'You know that the deacon is yonder,' she said in a low voice to Basil, +this the first mention of Leander that had fallen from her lips in +speaking with him. + +'Is he?' returned the other carelessly. 'Yes, I remember.' + +But Basil's eyes were turned to the long promontory of Misenum. He was +wondering anxiously how his letter had affected Veranilda, and whether, +when she heard of it, Aurelia would be angered. + +'Where is your friend Marcian?' were her next words. + +Basil replied that he, too, was sojourning at Neapolis; and, when +Aurelia inquired what business held him there, her cousin answered +truly that he did not know. + +'Do you trust him?' asked the lady, after a thoughtful pause. + +'Marcian? As I trust myself!' + +One of the boatmen coming within earshot, their conversation ceased. + +The hour before noon saw them drawing near to land. They left on the +right the little island of Nesis, and drew towards Puteoli. On the left +lay Baiae, all but forsaken, its ancient temples and villas stretching +along the shore from the Lucrine lake to the harbour shadowed by Cape +Misenum; desolate magnificence, marble overgrown with ivy, gardens +where the rose grew wild, and terraces crumbling into the sea. Basil +and Aurelia looked upon these things with an eye made careless by +familiarity; all their lives ruin had lain about them, deserted +sanctuaries of a bygone creed, unpeopled homes of a vanished greatness. + +As the boat advanced into the bay, it lost the wind, and rowing again +became needful. Thus they entered the harbour of Puteoli, where the +travellers disembarked. + +Hard by the port was a tavern, which, owing to its position midway +between Neapolis and Cumae, still retained something of its character +as a _mansio_ of the posting service; but the vehicles and quadrupeds +of which it boasted were no longer held in strict reserve for state +officials and persons privileged. Gladly the innkeeper put at Basil's +disposal his one covered carriage, a trifle cleaner inside than it was +without, and a couple of saddle horses, declared to be Sicilian, but +advanced in age. Thus, with slight delay, the party pursued their +journey, Basil and his man riding before the carriage. The road ran +coastwise as far as the Julian haven, once thronged with the shipping +of the Roman world, now all but abandoned to a few fishermen; there it +turned inland, skirted the Lucrine water, and presently reached the +shore of Lake Avernus, where was the entrance to the long tunnel +piercing the hill between the lake and Cumae. On an ill-kept way, under +a low vault of rock dripping moisture, the carriage with difficulty +tossed and rumbled through the gloom. Basil impatiently trotted on, +and, as he issued into sunlight, there before him stood the walls of +the ancient city, round about that little hill by the sea which, in an +age remote, had been chosen for their abode by the first Hellenes +tempted to the land of Italy. High above rose the acropolis, a frowning +stronghold. Through Basil's mind passed the thought that ere long Cumae +might again belong to the Goths, and this caused him no uneasiness; +half, perchance, he hoped it. + +A guard at the city gate inspected the carriage, and let it pass on. In +a few minutes, guided by Basil, it drew up before a house in a narrow, +climbing street, a small house, brick fronted, with stucco pilasters +painted red at the door, and two windows, closed with wooden shutters, +in the upper storey. On one side of the entrance stood a shop for the +sale of earthenware; on the other, a vintner's with a projecting marble +table, the jars of wine thereon exhibited being attached by chains to +rings in the wall. Odours of cookery, and of worse things, oppressed +the air, and down the street ran a noisome gutter. When Basil's servant +had knocked, a little wicket slipped aside for observation; then, after +a grinding of heavy locks and bars, the double doors were opened, and a +grey-headed slave stepped forward to receive his mistress. Basil had +jumped down from his horse, and would fain have entered, but, by an +arrangement already made, this was forbidden. Saying that she would +expect him at the second hour on the morrow, Aurelia disappeared. Her +cousin after a longing look at the blind and mute house, rode away to +another quarter of the city, near the harbour, where was an inn at +which he had lodged during his previous visit. In a poor and dirty +room, he made shift to dine on such food as could be offered him; then +lay down on the truckle bed, and slept for an hour or two. + +A knock at the door awoke him. It was Felix, who brought the news that +Marcian was at Cumae. + +'You have seen him?' cried Basil, astonished and eager. + +'His servant Sagaris,' Felix replied. 'I met him but now in the forum, +and learnt that his lord lodges at the house of the curial Venustus; +hard by the Temple of Diana.' + +'Go thither at once, and beg him, if his leisure serve, to come to me. +I would go myself; but, if he have seen Sagaris, he may be already on +the way here.' + +And so it proved, for in a very few minutes Marcian himself entered the +room. + +'Your uncle is dead,' were his first words. 'I heard it in Neapolis +yesterday. What brings you here?' + +'Nay, best Marcian,' returned the other, with hands on his friend's +shoulders, and peering him in the face, 'let me once again put that +question to _you_.' + +'I cannot answer it, yet,' said Marcian gravely. 'Your business is more +easily guessed.' + +'But must not be talked of here,' interrupted Basil, glancing at the +door. 'Let us find some more suitable place.' + +They descended the dark, foul stairs, and went out together. Before the +house stood the two serving-men, who, as their masters walked away, +followed at a respectful distance. When safe from being overheard, +Basil recounted to his friend the course of events at the Surrentine +villa since Marcian's departure, made known his suspicion that Aurelia +had secretly returned to the Catholic faith. He then told of to day's +journey and its purpose, his hearer wearing a look of grave attention. + +'Can it be,' asked Marcian, 'that you think of wedding this Gothic +beauty?' + +'Assuredly,' answered Basil, with a laugh, 'I have thought of it.' + +'And it looks as though Aurelia favoured your desire.' + +'It has indeed something of that appearance.' + +'Pray you now, dear lord,' said Marcian, 'be sober awhile. Have you +reflected that, with such a wife, you would not dare return to Rome?' + +Basil had not regarded that aspect of the matter, but his friend's +reasoning soon brought him to perceive the danger he would lightly have +incurred. Dangers, not merely those that resulted from the war; could +he suppose, asked Marcian, that Heliodora would meekly endure his +disdain, and that the life of Veranilda would be safe in such a rival's +proximity? Hereat, Basil gnashed his teeth and handled his dagger. Why +return to Rome at all? he cried impatiently. He had no mind to go +through the torments of a long siege such as again threatened. Why +should he not live on in Campania-- + +'And tend your sheep or your goats?' interrupted Marcian, with his +familiar note of sad irony. 'And pipe _sub tegmine fagi_ to your +blue-eyed Amaryllis? Why not, indeed? But what if; on learning the +death of Maximus, the Thracian who rules yonder see fit to command your +instant return, and to exact from you an account of what you have +inherited? Bessas loses no time--suspecting--perhaps--that his tenure +of a fruitful office may not be long.' + +'And if the suspicion be just?' said Basil, gazing hard at his friend. + +'Well, if it be?' said the other, returning the look. + +'Should we not do well to hold far from Rome, looking to King Totila, +whom men praise, as a deliverer of our land from hateful tyranny?' + +Marcian laid a hand on his friend's shoulder. + +'O, brave Basil!' he murmured, with a smile. 'O, nobly confident in +those you love! Never did man so merit love in return.--Do as you will. +In a few days I shall again visit you at Surrentum, and perchance bring +news that may give us matter for talk.' + +From a portico hard by there approached a beggar, a filthy and hideous +cripple, who, with whining prayer, besought alms. Marcian from his +wallet took a copper coin, and, having glanced at it, drew Basil's +attention. + +'Look,' said he, smiling oddly, 'at the image and the superscription.' + +It was a coin of Vitiges, showing a helmeted bust of the goddess of the +city, with legend '_Invicta Roma_.' + +'_Invicta Roma_,' muttered Basil sadly, with head bent. + +Meanwhile, out of earshot of their masters, the two servants conversed +with not less intimacy. At a glance these men were seen to be of +different races. Felix, aged some five and thirty, could boast of free +birth; he was the son of a curial--that is to say, municipal +councillor--of Arpinum, who had been brought to ruin, like so many of +his class in this age, by fiscal burdens, the curiales being +responsible for the taxes payable by their colleagues, as well as for +the dues on any estate in their district which might be abandoned, and, +in brief, for whatsoever deficiencies of local revenue. Gravity and +sincerity appeared in his countenance; he seldom smiled, spoke in a +subdued voice, and often kept his eyes on the ground; but his service +was performed with rare conscientiousness, and he had often given proof +of affection for his master. Sagaris, a Syrian slave, less than thirty +years old, had a comely visage which ever seemed to shine with +contentment, and often twinkled with a sort of roguish mirth. Tall and +of graceful bearing, the man's every movement betrayed personal vanity; +his speech had the note of facile obsequiousness; he talked whenever +occasion offered, and was fond of airing his views on political and +other high matters. Therewithal, he was the most superstitious of +mortals; wore amulets, phylacteries, charms of all sorts, and secretly +prayed to many strange gods. When he had nothing else to do, and could +find a genial companion, his delight was to play by the hour at _micare +digitis_; but, in spite of his master's good opinion, not to Sagaris +would have applied the proverb that you might play that game with him +in the dark. + +'Take my word for it,' he whispered to Felix, with his most important +air, 'we shall see strange things ere long. Last night I counted seven +shooting stars.' + +'What does that argue?' asked the other soberly. + +'More than I care to put into Latin. At Capua, three days ago, a woman +gave birth to a serpent, a winged dragon, which flew away towards Rome. +I talked at Neapolis with a man who saw it.' + +'Strange, indeed,' murmured Felix, with raised eyebrows. 'I have often +heard of such portents, but never had the luck to behold one of them. +Yet,' he added gravely, 'I have received a sign. When my father died, I +was far away from him, and at that very hour, as I prayed in the church +of Holy Clement at Rome, I heard a voice that said in my ear, _Vale_! +three times.' + +'Oh, I have had signs far more wonderful than that,' exclaimed the +Syrian. 'I was at sea, between Alexandria and Berytus--for you must +know that in my boyhood I passed three years at Berytus, and there +obtained that knowledge of law which you may have remarked in talking +with me--well, I was at sea--' + +'Peace!' interposed Felix. 'We are summoned.' + +Sagaris sighed, and became the obsequious attendant. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +BASIL AND VERANILDA + + +At the appointed hour next morning, when yet no ray of sunshine had +touched the gloomy little street, though a limpid sky shone over it, +Basil stood at Aurelia's door. The grey-headed porter silently admitted +him, and he passed by a narrow corridor into a hall lighted as usual +from above, paved with red tiles, here and there trodden away, the +walls coloured a dusky yellow, and showing an imaginary line of pillars +painted in blue. A tripod table, a couch, and a few chairs were the +only furniture. When the visitor had waited for a few moments a curtain +concealing the entrance to the inner part of the house moved aside, and +Aurelia's voice bade her cousin come forward. He entered a smaller room +opening upon a diminutive court where a few shrubs grew; around the +walls hung old and faded tapestry; the floor was of crude mosaic; the +furniture resembled that of the atrium, with the addition of a brasier. + +'I have been anxious for your coming,' were Aurelia's first words. 'Do +you think they will let us depart without hindrance? Yesterday I saw +the owner of this house to transact my business with him. It is +Venustus, a curial, a man who has always been well disposed to me. He +said that he must perforce make known to the governor my intention of +leaving the city, and hoped no obstacle would be put in our way. This +morning, before sunrise, a messenger from the citadel came and put +questions to the porter.' + +Basil knitted his brows. + +'Venustus? It is with Venustus that Marcian lodges. Yes, Marcian is +here; I know not on what business. It would have been wiser,' he added, +'to have said nothing, to have gone away as before. When shall you be +ready?' + +'I am ready now. Why delay? What matter though we reach Surrentum by +night? The moon rises early.' + +'What reply was given to the messenger from the citadel?' + +'He learned, perforce, that we were preparing for a journey.' + +A moment's reflection and Basil decided to risk immediate departure; +delay and uncertainty were at all times hateful to him, and at the +present juncture intolerable. At once he quitted the house (not having +ventured to speak the name of Veranilda), and in an hour's time the +covered carriage from Puteoli, and another vehicle, were in waiting. +The baggage was brought out; then, as Basil stood in the hall, he saw +Aurelia come forward, accompanied by a slight female figure, whose +grace could not be disguised by the long hooded cloak which wrapped it +from head to foot, allowing not a glimpse of face. The young man +trembled, and followed. He saw the ladies step into the carriage, and +was himself about to mount his horse, when a military officer, attended +by three soldiers, stepped towards him, and, without phrase of +courtesy, demanded his name. Pallid, shaken with all manner of +emotions, Basil replied to this and several other inquiries, the result +being that the two vehicles were ordered to be driven to the citadel, +and he to go thither under guard. + +At the entrance to the citadel the carriage drew up and remained there +under guard. Basil was led in, and presently stood before the military +governor of Cumae; this was a Hun named Chorsoman, formerly one of +Belisarius's bodyguard. He spoke Latin barbarously; none the less was +his language direct and perspicuous. The Roman lady wished to quit +Cumae, where she had lived for some years; she purposed, moreover, to +take away with her a maiden of Gothic race, who, though not treated as +a captive, had been under observation since she was sent to dwell here +by Belisarius. This could not pass as a matter of small moment. +Plainly, permission to depart must be sought of the authorities, and +such permission, under the circumstances, could only be granted in +return for substantial payment--a payment in proportion to the lady's +rank. It was known that the senator Maximus had died, and report said +that his daughter inherited great wealth. The price of her passport +would be one thousand gold pieces. + +Basil knew that Aurelia had not, in the coffer she was taking away, a +quarter of this sum of money. He foresaw endless delay, infinite peril +to his hopes. Schooling a hot tongue to submissive utterance, he asked +that Aurelia might be consulted. + +'Speak with her yourself,' said the Hun, 'and bring her answer.' + +So Basil went forth, and, under the eyes of the guard, held converse +with his cousin. Aurelia was willing to give all the treasure she +carried with her--money, a few ornaments of gold and silver, two or +three vessels of precious metal--everything for immediate liberty; all +together she thought it might be the equivalent of half the sum +demanded. The rest she would swear to pay. This being reported to +Chorsoman, his hideous, ashen-grey countenance assumed a fierce +expression; he commanded that all the baggage on the vehicles should be +brought and opened before him; this was done. Whilst Basil, boiling +with secret rage, saw his cousin's possessions turned out on to the +floor a thought flashed into his mind. + +'I ought to inform your Sublimity,' he said, with all the indifference +he could assume, 'that the lady Aurelia despatched two days ago a +courier to Rome apprising the noble commandant Bessas of her father's +death, and of her intention to arrive in the city as soon as possible, +and to put her means at his disposal for the defence of Rome against +King Totila.' + +Chorsoman stared. + +'Is not this lady the widow of a Goth and a heretic?' + +'The widow of a Goth, yes, but no longer a heretic,' answered Basil +boldly, half believing what he said. + +He saw that he had spoken to some purpose. The Hun blinked his little +eyes, gazed greedily at the money, and was about to speak when a +soldier announced that a Roman named Marcian desired immediate +audience, therewith handing to the governor a piece of metal which +looked like a large coin. Chorsoman had no sooner glanced at this than +he bade admit the Roman; but immediately changing his mind, he went out +into another room. On his return, after a quarter of an hour, he +gruffly announced that the travellers were free to depart. + +'We humbly thank your Clemency,' said Basil, his heart leaping in joy. +'Does your Greatness permit me to order these trifles to be removed?' + +'Except the money,' replied Chorsoman, growling next moment, 'and the +vessels'; then snarling with a savage glance about him, 'and the +jewels.' + +Not till the gates of Cumae were behind them, and they had entered the +cavern in the hill, did Basil venture to recount what had happened. He +alighted from his horse, and walking through the gloom beside the +carriage he briefly narrated all in a whisper to Aurelia--all except +his own ingenious device for balking the Hun's cupidity. What means +Marcian had employed for their release he could but vaguely conjecture; +that would be learned a few days hence when his friend came again to +Surrentum. Aurelia's companion in the carriage, still hooded and +cloaked, neither moved nor uttered a word. + +At a distance of some twenty yards from the end of the tunnel, Felix, +riding in advance, checked his horse and shouted. There on the ground +lay a dead man, a countryman, who it was easy to see had been stabbed +to death, and perhaps not more than an hour ago. Quarrel or robbery, +who could say? An incident not so uncommon as greatly to perturb the +travellers; they passed on and came to Puteoli. Here the waiting +boatmen were soon found; the party embarked; the vessel oared away in a +dead calm. + +The long voyage was tedious to Basil only because Veranilda remained +unseen in the cabin; the thought of bearing her off; as though she were +already his own, was an exultation, a rapture. When he reflected on the +indignities he had suffered in the citadel rage burned his throat, and +Aurelia, all bitterness at the loss of her treasure, found words to +increase this wrath. A Hun! A Scythian savage! A descendant perchance +of the fearful Attila! He to represent the Roman Empire! Fit +instrument, forsooth, of such an Emperor as Justinian, whose boundless +avarice, whose shameful subjection to the base-born Theodora, were +known to every one. To this had Rome fallen; and not one of her sons +who dared to rise against so foul a servitude! + +'Have patience, cousin,' Basil whispered, bidding her with a glance +beware of the nearest boatman. 'There are some who will not grieve if +Totila--' + +'No more than that? To stand, and look on, and play the courtier to +whichever may triumph!' + +Basil muttered with himself. He wished he had been bred a soldier +instead of growing to manhood in an age when the nobles of Rome were +held to inglorious peace, their sole career that of the jurist And +Aurelia, brooding, saw him involved beyond recall in her schemes of +vengeance. + +The purple evening fell about them, an afterglow of sunset trembling +upon the violet sea. Above the heights of Capreae a star began to +glimmer; and lo, yonder from behind the mountains rose the great orb of +the moon. They were in the harbour at last, but had to wait on board +until a messenger could go to the village and a conveyance arrive. The +litter came, with a horse for Basil; Felix, together with Aurelia's +grey-headed porter and a female slave--these two the only servants that +had remained in the house at Cumae--followed on foot, and the baggage +was carried up on men's shoulders. + +'Decius!' cried Basil, in a passionate undertone, when he encountered +his kinsman in the vestibule. 'Decius! we are here--and one with us +whom you know not. Hush! Stifle your curiosity till to-morrow. Let them +pass.' + +So had the day gone by, and not once had he looked upon the face of +Veranilda. + +He saw her early on the morrow. Aurelia, though the whole villa was now +at her command, chose still to inhabit the house of Proba; and thither, +when the day was yet young, she summoned Basil. The room in which she +sat was hung with pictured tapestry, representing Christ and the +Apostles; crude work, but such as had pleased Faltonia Proba, whose +pious muse inspired her to utter the Gospel in a Virgilian canto. And +at Aurelia's side, bending over a piece of delicate needlework, sat the +Gothic maiden, clad in white, her flaxen hair, loosely held with silk, +falling behind her shoulders, shadowing her forehead, and half hiding +the little ears. At Basil's entrance she did not look up; at the first +sound of his voice she bent her head yet lower, and only when he +directly addressed her, asking, with all the gentleness his lips could +command, whether the journey had left much fatigue, did she show for a +moment her watchet eyes, answering few words with rare sweetness. + +'Be seated, dear my lord,' said his cousin, in the soft, womanly voice +once her habitual utterance. 'There has been so little opportunity of +free conversation, that we have almost, one might say, to make each +other's acquaintance yet. But I hope we may now enjoy a little leisure, +and live as becomes good kinsfolk.' + +Basil made such suitable answer as his agitation allowed. + +'And the noble Decius,' pursued Aurelia, 'will, I trust, bestow at +times a little of his leisure upon us. Perhaps this afternoon you could +persuade him to forget his books for half an hour? But let us speak, to +begin with, of sad things which must needs occupy us. Is it possible, +yet, to know when the ship will sail for Rome?' + +Aurelia meant, of course, the vessel which would convey her father's +corpse, and the words cast gloom upon Basil, who had all but forgotten +the duty that lay before him. He answered that a week at least must +pass before the sailing, and, as he spoke, kept his eyes upon +Veranilda, whose countenance--or so it seemed to him--had become +graver, perhaps a little sad. + +'Is it your purpose to stay long in Rome?' was Aurelia's next question, +toned with rather excessive simplicity. + +'To stay long?' exclaimed Basil. 'How can you think it? Perchance I +shall not even enter the city. At Portus, I may resign my duty into +other hands, and so straightway return.' + +There was a conflict in Aurelia's mind. Reverence for her father +approved the thought of his remains being transported under the +guardianship of Basil; none the less did she dread this journey, and +feel tempted to hinder it. She rose from her chair. + +'Let us walk into the sunshine,' she said. 'The morning is chilly.' +And, as she passed out into the court, hand in hand with Veranilda, 'O, +the pleasure of these large spaces, this free air, after the straight +house at Cumae! Do you not breathe more lightly, sweetest? Come into +Proba's garden, and I will show you where I sat with my broidery when I +was no older than you.' + +The garden was approached by a vaulted passage. A garden long +reconquered by nature; for the paths were lost in herbage, the seats +were overgrown with creeping plants, and the fountain had crumbled into +ruin. A high wall formerly enclosed it, but, in a shock of earthquake +some years ago, part of this had fallen, leaving a gap which framed a +lovely picture of the inland hills. Basil pulled away the trailing +leafage from a marble hemicycle, and, having spread his cloak upon it, +begged tremorously that Veranilda would rest. + +'That wall shall be rebuilt,' said Aurelia, and, as if to inspect the +ruin, wandered away. When she was distant not many paces, Basil bent to +his seated companion, and breathed in a passionate undertone: + +'My letter reached your hands, O fairest?' + +'I received it--I read it.' + +As she spoke, Veranilda's cheeks flushed as if in shame. + +'Will you reply, were it but one word?' + +Her head drooped lower. Basil seated himself at her side. + +'One word, O Veranilda! I worship you--my soul longs for you--say only +that you will be mine, my beloved lady, my wife!' + +Her blue eyes glistened with moisture as for an instant they met the +dark glow in his. + +'Do you know who I am?' she whispered. + +'You are Veranilda! You are beauty and sweetness and divine purity--' + +He sought her hand, but at this moment Aurelia turned towards them, and +the maiden, quivering, stood up. + +'Perhaps the sun is too powerful,' said Aurelia, with her tenderest +smile. 'My lily has lived so long in the shade.' + +They lingered a little on the shadowed side, Aurelia reviving memories +of her early life, then passed again under the vaulted arch. Basil, +whose eyes scarcely moved from Veranilda's face, could not bring +himself to address her in common words, and dreaded that she would soon +vanish. So indeed it befell. With a murmur of apology to her friend, +and a timid movement of indescribable grace in Basil's direction, she +escaped, like a fugitive wild thing, into solitude. + +'Why has she gone?' exclaimed the lover, all impatience. 'I must follow +her--I cannot live away from her! Let me find her again.' + +His cousin checked him. + +'I have to speak to you, Basil. Come where we can be private.' + +They entered the room where they had sat before, and Aurelia, taking up +the needlework left by Veranilda, showed it to her companion with +admiration. + +'She is wondrous at this art. In a contest with Minerva, would she not +have fared better than Arachne? This mourning garment which I wear is +of her making, and look at the delicate work; it was wrought four years +ago, when I heard of my brother's death--wrought in a few days. She was +then but thirteen. In all that it beseems a woman to know, she is no +less skilled. Yonder lies her cithern; she learnt to touch it, I scarce +know how, out of mere desire to soothe my melancholy, and I +suspect--though she will not avow it--that the music she plays is often +her own. In sickness she has tended me with skill as rare as her +gentleness; her touch on the hot forehead is like that of a flower +plucked before sunrise. Hearing me speak thus of her, what think you, O +Basil, must be my trust in the man to whom I would give her for wife?' + +'Can you doubt my love, O Aurelia?' cried the listener, clasping his +hands before him. + +'Your love? No. But your prudence, is that as little beyond doubt?' + +'I have thought long and well,' said Basil. + +Aurelia regarded him steadily. + +'You spoke with her in the garden just now. Did she reply?' + +'But few words. She asked me if I knew her origin, and blushed as she +spoke.' + +'It is her wish that I should tell you; and I will.' + +Scarce had Aurelia begun her narrative, when Basil perceived that his +own conjecture, and that of Marcian, had hit the truth. Veranilda was a +great-grandchild of Amalafrida, the sister of King Theodoric, being +born of the daughter of King Theodahad; and her father was that +Ebrimut, whose treachery at the beginning of the great war delivered +Rhegium into the hands of the Greeks. Her mother, Theodenantha, a woman +of noble spirit, scorned the unworthy Goth, and besought the conqueror +to let her remain in Italy, even as a slave, rather than share with +such a husband the honours of the Byzantine court. She won this grace +from Belisarius, and was permitted to keep with her the little maiden, +just growing out of childhood. But shame and grief had broken her +heart; after a few months of imprisonment at Cumae she died. And +Veranilda passed into the care of the daughter of Maximus. + +'For I too was a captive,' said Aurelia, 'and of the same religion as +the orphan child. By happy hazard I had become a friend of her mother, +in those days of sorrow; and with careless scorn our conquerors +permitted me to take Veranilda into my house. As the years went by, she +was all but forgotten; there came a new governor--this thievish +Hun--who paid no heed to us. I looked forward to a day when we might +quit Cumae and live in freedom where we would. Then something +unforeseen befell. Half a year ago, just when the air of spring began +to breathe into that dark, chill house, a distant kinsman of ours, who +has long dwelt in Byzantium--do you know Olybrius, the son of Probinus?' + +'I have heard his name.' + +'He came to me, as if from my father; but I soon discovered that he had +another mission, his main purpose being to seek for Veranilda. By whom +sent, I could not learn; but he told me that Ebrimut was dead, and that +his son, Veranilda's only brother, was winning glory in the war with +the Persians. For many days I lived in fear lest my pearl should be +torn from me. Olybrius it was, no doubt, who bade the Hun keep watch +upon us, and it can only have been by chance that I was allowed to go +forth unmolested when you led me hither the first time. He returned to +Byzantium, and I have heard no more. But a suspicion haunts my mind. +What if Marcian were also watching Veranilda?' + +'Marcian!' cried the listener incredulously. 'You do not know him. He +is the staunchest and frankest of friends. He knows of my love; we have +talked from heart to heart.' + +'Yet it was at his intercession that the Hun allowed us to go; why, you +cannot guess. What if he have power and motives which threaten +Veranilda's peace?' + +Basil exclaimed against this as the baseless fear of a woman. Had there +been a previous command from some high source touching the Gothic +maiden, Chorsoman would never have dared to sell her freedom. As to +Marcian's power, that was derived from the authorities at Rome, and +granted him for other ends; if he used it to release Veranilda, he +acted merely out of love to his friend, as would soon be seen. + +'I will hope so,' murmured Aurelia. 'Now you have heard what she +herself desired that I should tell you, for she could not meet your +look until you knew it. Her father's treachery is Veranilda's shame; +she saw her noble mother die for it, and it has made her mourning +keener than a common sorrow. I think she would never have dared to wed +a Goth; all true Goths, she believes in her heart, must despise her. It +is her dread lest you, learning who she is, should find your love +chilled.' + +'Call her,' cried Basil, starting to his feet. 'Or let me go to her. +She shall not suffer that fear for another moment. Veranilda! +Veranilda!' + +His companion retained and quieted him. He should see Veranilda ere +long. But there was yet something to be spoken of. + +'Have you forgotten that she is not of your faith?' + +'Do I love her, adore her, the less?' exclaimed Basil. 'Does she shrink +from me on that account?' + +'I know,' pursued his cousin, 'what the Apostle of the Gentiles has +said: "For the husband who believes not is sanctified by the wife, and +the wife who believes not is sanctified by the husband." None the less, +Veranilda is under the menace of the Roman law; and you, if it be known +that you have wedded her, will be in peril from all who serve the +Emperor--at least in dark suspicion; and will be slightly esteemed by +all of our house.' + +The lover paced about, and all at once, with a wild gesture, uttered +his inmost thought. + +'What if I care naught for those of our house? And what if the Emperor +of the East is of as little account to me? My country is not Byzantium, +but Rome.' + +Aurelia hushed his voice, but her eyes shone with stern gladness as she +stood before him, and took him by the hand, and spoke what he alone +could hear. + +'Then unite yourself in faith with those who would make Rome free. Be +one in religion with the brave Goths--with Veranilda.' + +He cast down his eyes and drew a deep breath. + +'I scarce know what that religion is, O Aurelia,' came from him +stammeringly. 'I am no theologian; I never cared to puzzle my head +about the mysteries which men much wiser than I declare to pass all +human understanding. Ask Decius if he can defend the faith of +Athanasius against that of the Arians; he will smile, and shake his +head in that droll way he has. I believe,' he added after a brief +hesitancy, 'in Christ and in the Saints. Does not Veranilda also?' + +The temptress drew back a little, seated herself; yielded to troublous +thought. It was long since she had joined in the worship of a +congregation, for at Cumae there was no Arian church. Once only since +her captivity had she received spiritual comfort from an Arian priest, +who came to that city in disguise. What her religion truly was she +could not have declared, for the memories of early life were sometimes +as strong in her as rancour against the faith of her enemies. Basil's +simple and honest utterance touched her conscience. She put an end to +the conversation, promising to renew it before long; whilst Basil, for +his part, went away to brood, then to hold converse with Decius. + +Through all but the whole of Theodoric's reign, Italy had enjoyed a +large toleration in religion: Catholics, Arians, and even Jews observed +their worship under the protection of the wise king. Only in the last +few years of his life did he commit certain acts of harshness against +his Catholic subjects, due to the wrath that was moved in him by a +general persecution of the Arians proclaimed at Byzantium. His Gothic +successors adhered to Theodoric's better principle, and only after the +subjugation of the land by Belisarius had Arianism in Italy been +formally condemned. Of course it was protected by the warring Goths: +Totila's victories had now once more extended religious tolerance over +a great part of the country; the Arian priesthood re-entered their +churches; and even in Rome the Greek garrison grew careless of the +reviving heresy. Of these things did Decius speak, when the distressed +lover sought his counsel. No one more liberal than Decius; but he bore +a name which he could not forget, and in his eyes the Goth was a +barbarian, the Gothic woman hardly above the level of a slave. That +Basil should take a Gothic wife, even one born of a royal line, seemed +to him an indignity. Withheld by the gentleness of his temper from +saying all he thought, he spoke only of the difficulties which would +result from such a marriage, and when, in reply, Basil disclosed his +mind, though less vehemently than to Aurelia, Decius fell into +meditation. He, too, had often reflected with bitterness on the results +of that restoration of Rome to the Empire which throughout the Gothic +dominion most of the Roman nobles had never ceased to desire; all but +was he persuaded to approve the statesmanship of Cassiodorus. +Nevertheless, he could not, without shrinking, see a kinsman pass over +to the side of Totila. + +'I must think,' he murmured. 'I must think.' + +He had not yet seen Veranilda. When, in the afternoon, Basil led him +into the ladies' presence, and his eyes fell upon that white-robed +loveliness, censure grew faint in him. Though a Decius, he was a man of +the sixth century after Christ; his mind conceived an ideal of human +excellence which would have been unintelligible to the Decii of old; in +his heart meekness and chastity had more reverence than perhaps he +imagined. He glanced at Basil; he understood. Though the future still +troubled him, opposition to the lover's will must, he knew, be idle. + +Several hours before, Basil had scratched on a waxed tablet a few +emphatic lines, which his cousin allowed to be transmitted to +Veranilda. They assured her that what he had learned could only--if +that were possible--increase his love, and entreated her to grant him +were it but a moment's speech after the formal visit, later in the day. +The smile with which she now met him seemed at once gratitude and +promise; she was calmer, and less timid. Though she took little part in +the conversation, her words fell very sweetly after the men's speech +and the self-confident tones of Aurelia; her language was that of an +Italian lady, but in the accent could be marked a slight foreignness, +which to Basil's ear had the charm of rarest music, and even to Decius +sounded not unpleasing. Under the circumstances, talk, confined to +indifferent subjects, could not last very long; as soon as it began to +flag, Decius found an excuse for begging permission to retire. As +though wishing for a word with him in confidence, Aurelia at the same +time passed out of the room into the colonnade. Basil and Veranilda +were left alone. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE EMPEROR'S COMMAND + + +His voice made tremulous music, inaudible a few paces away; his breath +was on her cheek; his eyes, as she gazed into them, seemed to envelop +her in their glow. + +'My fairest! Let me but touch your hand. Lay it for a moment in mine--a +pledge for ever!' + +'You do not fear to love me, O lord of my life?' + +The whisper made him faint with joy. + +'What has fear to do with love, O thou with heaven in thine eyes! what +room is there for fear in the heart where thy beauty dwells? Speak +again, speak again, my beloved, and bless me above all men that live!' + +'Basil! Basil! Utter my name once more. I never knew how sweet it could +sound.' + +'Nor I, how soft could be the sound of mine. Forgive me, O Veranilda, +that out of my love pain has come to you. You will not ever be sad +again? You will not think ever again of those bygone sorrows?' + +She bent her head low. + +'Can you believe in my truth, O Basil? Can _you_ forget?' + +'All save the nobleness of her who bore you, sweet and fair one.' + +'Let _that_ be ever in your thought,' said Veranilda, with a radiant +look. 'She sees me now; and my hope, your strength and goodness, bring +new joy to her in the life eternal.' + +'Say the word I wait for--whisper low--the word of all words.' + +'Out of my soul, O Basil, I love you!' + +As the sound trembled into silence, his lips touched hers. In the +golden shadow of her hair, the lily face flushed warm; yet she did not +veil her eyes, vouchers of a life's loyalty. + +When Aurelia entered the room again, she walked as though absorbed in +thought. + +'Decius tells me he must soon go to Rome,' were her words, in drawing +near to the lovers. + +Basil had heard of no such purpose. His kinsman, under the will of +Maximus, enjoyed a share in the annual revenue of this Surrentine +estate; moreover, he became the possessor of many books, which lay in +the Anician mansion of Rome, and it was his impatience, thought +Aurelia, to lay hands upon so precious a legacy, which might at any +time be put in danger by the events of the war, that prompted him to +set forth. + +'Might he not perform the duty you have undertaken?' she added in a +lower voice, as she met Basil's look. + +Veranilda did not speak, but an anxious hope dawned in her face. And +Basil saw it. + +'Have you spoken of it, cousin?' he asked. + +'The thought has but just come to me.' + +'Decius is not in good health. Thus late in the year, to travel by +sea--Yet the weather may be fair, the sea still; and then it would be +easier for him than the journey by land.' + +Basil spoke in a halting tone. He could not without a certain shame +think of revoking his promise to Petronilla, a very distinct promise, +in which natural obligation had part. Yet the thought of the journey, +of an absence from Veranilda, not without peril of many kinds, grew +terrible to him. He looked at Veranilda again, and smiled encouragement. + +The lady Petronilla had been wont to dine and sup in dignified +publicity, seated on the _sigma_, in the room which had seen so many +festivals, together with her male relatives and any guest who might be +at the villa; in her presence, no man permitted himself the recumbent +attitude, which indeed had been unusual save among the effeminate. But +Aurelia and her companion took their meals apart. This evening, Basil +and Decius supped almost in silence, each busy with his reflections. +They lingered over the wine, their attendants having left them, until +Decius, as if rousing himself from a dream, asked how long it was +likely to be before the ship could sail. Basil answered that the leaden +coffin would be ready within a few days (it was being made at Neapolis, +out of water-pipes which had served a villa in ruins), and after that +there would only be delay through wind and weather. + +'Are you greatly bent on going to Rome just now?' was the student's +next inquiry, a twinkle in his eyes as he spoke. + +'By Bacchus!' answered the other, handling his goblet. 'If I saw my way +to avoid it!' + +'I guessed as much. The suspicion came to me at a certain moment this +morning--a mere grain, which ever since has been growing _tanquam +favus_. I am not wont to consider myself as of much use, but is it not +just possible that, in this case, your humble kinsman might serve you?' + +'My good, my excellent, my very dear Decius!' broke from the listener. +'But would it not be with risk to your health?' + +'I would beg permission not to weigh anchor in a tempest, that's all. +The sea in its gentler moods I have never feared, and _alcyoneum +medicamen_, you know, in other words the sea-foam, has always been +recommended for freckles.' + +He touched his face, which was in deed much freckle-spotted, and Basil, +whose spirits rose each moment, gave a good-natured laugh. + +'One thing only,' added Decius seriously. 'Inasmuch as this charge is a +grave one, I would not undertake it without the consent of the ladies +Aurelia and Petronilla. Perchance, in respect for the honoured Maximus, +they would feel reluctant to see me take your place.' + +'O modest Decius!' exclaimed the other. 'Which, pray, carries the more +dignity, your name or mine?--not to speak of your learning and my +ignorance. As to Aurelia, I can ease your mind at once. She would not +dream of objecting.' + +'Then let us, to-morrow, beg audience of the pious lady at Surrentum, +and request her permission.' + +The proposal made Basil uncomfortable; but a visit of respect to +Petronilla was certainly due, and perhaps it would pass without +troublesome incident. He nodded assent. + +Early on the morrow they carried out their purpose. To the surprise of +both, Petronilla received them in her modest abode not ungraciously, +though with marked condescension; she gave them to understand that her +days, and much of her nights, passed in religious exercises, the names +of her kinsfolk not being omitted from her prayers; of the good bishop +she spoke almost tenderly, and with a humble pride related that she had +been able to ease a persistent headache from which his Sanctity +suffered. When Basil found an opportunity of reporting what had passed +between him and Decius, the lady's austere smile was for a moment +clouded; it looked as though storm might follow. But the smile +returned, with perhaps a slightly changed significance. Did Basil think +of remaining long at the villa? Ah, he could not say; to be sure, the +times were so uncertain. For her own part, she would start on her +journey as soon as the coffin was on board the ship. Indeed, she saw no +objection to the arrangement her dear nephew proposed; she only trusted +that the learned and amiable Decius, so justly esteemed by all, would +have a care of his health. Did he still take the infusion of marjoram +which she had prescribed for him? A holy man, newly returned from the +East, had deigned to visit her only yesterday, and had given her a +small phial of water from Rebekah's well; it was of priceless virtue, +and one drop of it had last evening restored to health and strength a +child that lay at the point of death. + +In the afternoon Basil was again permitted to see Veranilda, though not +alone. To her and to Aurelia he made known that Decius would willingly +undertake the voyage. After lingering for an hour in the vain hope that +Aurelia would withdraw, were it but for a moment, he went away and +scratched ardent words on his tablet. 'I will be in your garden,' he +concluded, 'just at sunrise to-morrow. Try, try to meet me there.' + +Scarcely had he despatched a servant with this when Felix announced to +him the arrival of Marcian. On fire with eagerness, Basil sped to greet +his friend. + +'Give me to drink,' were the traveller's first words. 'I have ridden +since before dawn, and have a tongue like leather.' + +Wine and grapes, with other refreshments, were set forth for him. +Marcian took up an earthenware jug full of spring water, and drank +deeply. His host then urged the wine, but it was refused; and as Basil +knew that one of his friend's peculiarities was a rigorous abstinence +at times from all liquor save the pure element, he said no more. + +'I have been at Nuceria,' Marcian continued, throwing himself on a +seat, 'with Venantius. What a man! He was in the saddle yesterday from +sunrise to sunset; drank from sunset to the third hour of the night; +rose before light this morning, gay and brisk, and made me ride with +him, so that I was all but tired out before I started on the road +hither. Venantius declares that he can only talk of serious things on +horseback.' + +'My uncle regarded him as a Roman turned barbarian,' said Basil. + +'Something of that, but such men have their worth and their place.' + +'We will talk about him at another time,' Basil interrupted. 'Remember +how we parted at Cumae and what happened afterwards. We are private +here; you can speak freely. How did you release us from the grip of the +Hun?' + +'I told you before, good Basil, that I was here to spy upon you; and be +sure that I did not undertake that office without exacting a proof of +the confidence of our lords at Rome. Something I carry with me which +has power over such dogs as Chorsoman.' + +'I saw that, best Marcian. But it did not avail to save my cousin +Aurelia from robbery.' + +'Nothing would, where Chorsoman was sure of a week's--nay, of an +hour's--impunity. But did he steal aught belonging to the Gothic +maiden?' + +'To Veranilda? She has but a bracelet and a ring, and those she was +wearing. They came from her mother, a woman of noblest heart, who, when +her husband Ebrimut played the traitor, and she was left behind in +Italy, would keep nothing but these two trinkets, which once were worn +by Amalafrida.' + +'You know all that now,' observed Marcian quietly. + +'The story of the trinkets only since an hour or two ago. That of +Veranilda's parentage I learned from Aurelia, Veranilda refusing to +converse with me until I knew.' + +'Since when you have conversed, I take it, freely enough.' + +'Good my lord,' replied Basil, with a look of some earnestness, 'let us +not jest on this matter.' + +'I am little disposed to do so, O fiery lover!' said Marcian, with a +return of his wonted melancholy. 'For I have that to tell you which +makes the matter grave enough. We were right, you see, in our guess of +Veranilda's origin; I could wish she had been any one else. Patience, +patience! You know that I left you here to go to Neapolis. There I +received letters from Rome, one of them from Bessas himself, and, by +strange hazard, the subject of it was the daughter of Ebrimut.' + +Basil made a gesture of repugnance. 'Nay, call her the daughter of +Theodenantha.' + +'As you will. In any case the granddaughter of a king, and not likely +to be quite forgotten by the royal family of her own race. Another +king's grandchild, Matasuntha, lives, as you know, at Byzantium, and +enjoys no little esteem at the Emperor's court; it is rumoured, indeed, +that her husband Vitiges, having died somewhere in battle, Matasuntha +is to wed a nephew of Justinian. This lady, I am told, desires to know +the daughter of Ebri--nay, then, of Theodenantha; of whom, it seems, a +report has reached her. A command of the Emperor has come to Bessas +that the maiden Veranilda, resident at Cumae, be sent to Constantinople +with all convenient speed. And upon me, O Basil, lies the charge of +seeking her in her dwelling, and of conveying her safely to Rome, where +she will be guarded until--' + +'Will be guarded!' echoed Basil fiercely. 'Nay, by the holy Peter and +Paul, that will she not! You are my friend, Marcian, and I hold you +dear, but if you attempt to obey this order--' + +Hand on dagger, and eyes glaring, the young noble had sprung to his +feet. Marcian did not stir; his head was slightly bent, and a sad smile +hovered about his lips. + +'O descendant of all the Anicii,' he replied, 'O son of many consuls, +remember the ancestral dignity. Time enough to threaten when you detect +me in an unfriendly act. Did I play the traitor to you at Cumae? With +the Hun this command of Justinian served you in good stead; Veranilda +would not otherwise have escaped so easily. Chorsoman, fat-witted as he +is, willingly believed that Veranilda and Aurelia, and you yourself, +were all in my net--which means the net of Bessas, whom he fears. Do +you also believe it, my good Basil?' + +For answer Basil embraced his friend, and kissed him on either cheek. + +'I know how this has come about,' he said; and thereupon related the +story of the visit of Olybrius to Aurelia six months ago. It seemed +probable that a report of Veranilda's beauty had reached Matasuntha, +who wished to adorn her retinue with so fair a remnant of the Amal +race. How, he went on to ask, would Marcian excuse himself at Rome for +his failure to perform this office? + +'Leave that to my ingenuity,' was the reply. 'Enough for you to dare +defiance of the Emperor's will.' + +Basil made a scornful gesture, which his friend noted with the same +melancholy smile. + +'You have no misgiving?' said Marcian. 'Think who it is you brave. +Imperator Caesar Flavius Justinianus--Africanus, Gothicus, Germanicus, +Vandalicus, and I know not what else--Pius, Felix, Inclytus, Victor ac +Triumphator, Semper Augustus--' + +The other laid a hand upon his shoulder. + +'Marcian, no word of this to Aurelia, I charge you!' + +'I have no desire to talk about it, be assured. But it is time that we +understood each other. Be plain with me. If you wed Veranilda how do +you purpose to secure your safety? Not, I imagine, by prostrating +yourself before Bessas. Where will you be safe from pursuit?' + +Basil reflected, then asked boldly: + +'Has not the King Totila welcomed and honourably entertained Romans who +have embraced his cause?' + +'Come now,' exclaimed the other, his sad visage lighting up, 'that is +to speak like a man! So, we _do_ understand each other. Be it known +unto you then, O Basil, that at this moment the Gothic king is aware of +your love for Veranilda, and of your purpose to espouse her. You indeed +are a stranger to him, even in name; but not so the Anician house; and +an Anician, be assured, will meet with no cold reception in the camp of +the Goths.' + +'You enjoy the confidence of Totila?' asked Basil, wondering, and a +little confused. + +'Did I not tell you that I claimed the merit of playing traitor to both +sides?' + +Marcian spoke with a note of bitterness, looking his friend fixedly in +the face. + +'It is a noble treachery,' said Basil, seizing both his hands. 'I am +with you, heart and soul! Tell me more. Where is the king? Will he +march upon Rome?' + +'Neapolis will see him before Rome does. He comes slowly through +Samnium, making sure his conquest on the way. Let me now speak again of +Venantius. He would fain know you.' + +'He is one of ours?' + +'One of those true Romans who abhor the Eastern tyranny and see in the +Goth a worthy ally. Will you ride with me to-morrow to Nuceria?' + +'I cannot,' replied Basil, 'for I dare not leave Veranilda without +protection, after what you have told me.' + +'Why, then, Venantius must come hither.' + +Whilst the friends were thus conversing a courier rode forth from +Surrentum towards Neapolis. He bore a letter whereof the contents were +these:-- + + +'To the holy and reverend deacon Leander, Petronilla's humble +salutation. + +'I am most punctually informed of all that passes at the villa. My +nephew goes not to Rome; his place will be taken by Decius. The reason +is that which I have already suggested to your Sanctity. Marcian has +arrived this afternoon, coming I know not whence, but I shall learn. I +suspect things of the darkest moment. Let your Sanctity pursue the +project with which heaven has inspired you. You shall receive, if +necessary, two missives every day. Humbly I entreat your prayers.' + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +HERESY + + +The Roman Empire, by confining privileges and honours to the senatorial +order, created a noble caste, and this caste, as Imperial authority +declined, became a power independent of the state, and a menace to its +existence. In Italy, by the end of the fifth century, the great system +of citizenship, with its principle of infinite devotion to the good of +the commonwealth, was all but forgotten. In matters of justice and of +finance the nobles were beginning to live by their own law, which was +that of the right of the strongest. Having ceased to hold office and +perform public services in the municipia, they became, in fact, rulers +of the towns situated on or near their great estates. Theodoric, +striving to uphold the ancient civility, made strenuous efforts to +combat this aristocratic predominance; yet on some points he was +obliged to yield to the tendency of the times, as when he forbade the +freedmen, serfs, and slaves on any estate to plead against their lord, +and so delivered the mass of the rural inhabitants of Italy to private +jurisdiction. The Gothic war of course hastened the downfall of +political and social order. The manners of the nobles grew violent in +lawlessness; men calling themselves senators, but having in fact +renounced that rank by permanent absence from Rome, and others who +merely belonged to senatorial houses, turned to fortifying their +villas, and to building castles on heights, whilst they gathered about +them a body of retainers, armed for defence or for aggression. + +Such a personage was Venantius, son of a senator of the same name, who, +under Theodoric, had attained the dignity of Patrician and what other +titular glories the time afforded. Venantius, the younger, coming into +possession of an estate between Neapolis and Salernum, here took up his +abode after the siege of Rome, and lived as seemed good to him, lord +over the little town of Nuceria, and of a considerable tract of +country, with a villa converted into a stronghold up on the mountain +side. Having suffered wrongs at the hands of the Imperial +conquerors--property of his in Rome had been seized--he heard with +satisfaction of the rise of Totila, and, as soon as the king's progress +southward justified such a step, entered into friendly communication +with the Goth, whom he invited to come with all speed into Campania, +where Salernum, Neapolis, Cumae, would readily fall into his hands. +Marcian, on his double mission of spy in the Greek service and friend +of the Goths, had naturally sought out Venantius; and the description +he gave to Basil of the fortress above Nuceria filled the listener with +enthusiasm. + +'I would I could live in the same way,' Basil exclaimed. 'And why not? +My own villa in Picenum might be strengthened with walls and towers. We +have stone enough, and no lack of men to build.' + +Yet as he spoke a misgiving betrayed itself on his countenance. +Consciously or not, he had always had before him a life at Rome, the +life which became a Roman, as distinguished from a barbarian. But the +need to seek security for Veranilda again became vivid to his mind. At +Rome, clearly, he could not live with his wife until the Goths had +reconquered the city, which was not likely to happen soon. His means +were represented chiefly by the Arpinum estate, which he had inherited +from his father; in Rome he had nothing but his mansion on the Caelian. +The treasure at his command, a considerable sum, he had brought away in +a strong box, and it was now more than doubled in value by what fell to +him under the will of Maximus--money to be paid out of the great coffer +which the senator had conveyed hither. As they talked, Marcian urged +upon him a close friendship with Venantius, in whose castle he would be +welcomed. Here at Surrentum he could not long rest in safety, for +Chorsoman might at any time have his suspicions awakened by learning +the delay of Veranilda's journey to Rome, and the news of her marriage +could not be prevented from spreading. + +So Basil lay through an anxious hour or two before sleep fell upon him +to-night. He resolved to change the habits of his life, to shake off +indolence and the love of ease, to fortify himself with vigorous +exercises, and become ready for warfare. It was all very well for an +invalid, like Decius, to nurse a tranquil existence, unheeding the +temper of the times. A strong and healthy man had no right to lurk away +from the streaming flood of things; it behoved him to take his part in +strife and tumult, to aid in re-establishing a civic state. This +determination firmly grasped, he turned to think of the hoped-for +meeting with Veranilda in the morning, and gentler emotions lulled him +into dreams. + +At dawn he bestirred himself. The gallery outside his chamber was +lighted with a hanging lamp, and at a little distance sounded the +footstep of the watchman, who told him that the morning was fair, and, +at his bidding, opened a door which admitted to the open terrace +overlooking the sea. Having stepped forth, Basil stood for a moment +sniffing the cool air with its scent from the vineyards, and looking at +the yellow rift in the eastern sky; then he followed a path which +skirted the villa's outward wall and led towards the dwelling of +Aurelia. Presently he reached the ruined wall of the little garden, and +here a voice challenged him, that of a servant on watch until sunrise. + +'It is well,' he replied. 'I will relieve you for this last half hour; +go to your rest.' + +But the slave hesitated. He had strictest orders, and feared to disobey +them even at this bidding. + +'You are an honest fellow,' said Basil, 'and the lady Aurelia shall +know of your steadfastness. But get you gone; there is no danger whilst +I am here.' + +Impatiently he watched the man retire, then stood just within the gap +of the wall, and waited with as much fear as hope. It might be that +Veranilda would not venture forth without speaking to Aurelia, who +might forbid the meeting; or, if she tried to steal out, she might be +detected and hindered; perhaps she would fear to pass under the eyes of +a watchman or other servant who might be in her way. He stamped +nervously, and turned to look for a moment in the outward direction. +This little villa stood on the edge of a declivity falling towards the +sea; a thicket of myrtles grew below. At the distance of half a mile +along the coast, beyond a hollow wooded with ilex, rose a temple, which +time and the hand of man had yet spared; its whiteness glimmered +against a sky whose cloudless dusk was warming with a reflection of the +daybreak. An influence in the scene before him, something he neither +understood nor tried to understand, held him gazing longer than he +supposed, and with a start he heard his name spoken by the beloved +voice. Close to him stood Veranilda. She was cloaked and hooded, so +that he could hardly see her face; but her white hands were held out +for his. + +Heart to heart, mouth to mouth, they whispered. To be more private, +Basil drew her without the garden. Veranilda's eyes fixed themselves +upon the spreading glory of the east; and it moved her to utterance. + +'When I was a child,' she said, 'at Ravenna, I gazed once at the +sunrise, and behold, in the rays which shot upwards stood an angel, a +great, beautiful angel, with wings of blue, and a garment which shone +like gold, and on his head was a wreath of I know not what flowers. I +ran to tell my mother, but when she came, alas! the angel had vanished. +No one could tell me certainly what the vision meant. Often I have +looked and hoped to see the angel again, but he has never come.' + +Basil listened without a doubt, and murmured soft words. Then he asked +whether Aurelia knew of this meeting; but Veranilda shook her head. + +'I durst not speak. I so feared to disappoint you. This night I have +hardly slept, lest I should miss the moment. Should I not return very +soon, O Basil?' + +'You shall; though your going will make the sky black as when Auster +blows. But it is not for long. A few days--' + +He broke off with the little laugh of a triumphing lover. + +'A few days?' responded Veranilda, timidly questioning. + +'We wait only until that dark ship has sailed for Rome.' 'Does Aurelia +know that you purpose it so soon?' asked Veranilda. + +'Why? Has she seemed to you to wish otherwise?' + +'She has never spoken of it.--And afterwards? Shall we remain here, +Basil?' + +'For no long time. Here I am but a guest. We must dwell where I am lord +and you lady of all about us.' + +He told her of his possessions, of the great house in Rome with the +villa at Arpinum. Then he asked her, playfully, but with a serious +purpose in his mind, which of the two she would prefer for an abode. + +'I have no choice but yours,' she replied. 'Where it seems good to my +dear lord to dwell, there shall I be at rest.' + +'We must be safe against our enemies,' said Basil, with graver +countenance. + +'Our enemies?' + +'Has not Aurelia talked to you of the war? You know that the Gothic +king is conquering all before him, coming from the north?' + +Veranilda looked into her lover's face with a tender anxiety. + +'And you fear him, O Basil? It is he that is our enemy?' + +'Not so, sweetest. No foe of mine is he who wears the crown of +Theodoric. They whom I fear and abhor are the slaves of Justinian, the +robber captains who rule at Ravenna and in Rome.' + +As she heard him, Veranilda trembled with joy. She caught his hand, and +bent over it, and kissed it. + +'Had I been the enemy of Totila,' said Basil, 'could you still have +loved me as a wife should love?' + +'I had not asked myself,' she answered, 'for it was needless. When I +look on you, I think neither of Roman nor of Goth.' + +Basil spoke of his hope that Rome might be restored to the same freedom +it had enjoyed under the great king. Then they would dwell together in +the sacred city. That, too, was Veranilda's desire; for on her ear the +name of Rome fell with a magic sound; all her life she had heard it +spoken reverentially, with awe, yet the city itself she had never seen. +Rome, she knew, was vast; there, it seemed to her, she would live +unobserved, unthought of save by him she loved. Seclusion from all +strangers, from all who, learning her origin, would regard her +slightingly, was what her soul desired. + +Day had broken; behind the mountains there was light of the sun. Once +more they held each other heart to heart, and Veranilda hastened +through the garden to regain her chamber. Basil stood for some minutes +lost in a delicious dream; the rising day made his face beautiful, his +eyes gleamed with an unutterable rapture. At length he sighed and awoke +and looked about him. At no great distance, as though just issued from +the ilex wood, moved a man's figure. It approached very slowly, and +Basil watched until he saw that the man was bent as if with age, and +had black garments such as were worn by wandering mendicant monks. +Carelessly he turned, and went his way back to the villa. + +An hour later, Aurelia learnt that a 'holy man,' a pilgrim much travel +worn, was begging to be admitted to her. She refused to see him. Still +he urged his entreaty, declaring that he had a precious gift for her +acceptance, and an important message for her ear. At length he was +allowed to enter the atrium, and Aurelia saw before her a man in black +monkish habit, his body bent and tremulous, but evidently not with age, +for his aspect otherwise was that of middle life. What, she asked +briefly and coldly, was his business with her? Thereupon the monk drew +from his bosom a small wrappage of tissues, which when unfolded +disclosed a scrap of something hairy. + +'This, noble lady,' said the monk, in a voice reverently subdued, 'is +from the camel-hair garment of Holy John the Baptist. I had it of a +hermit in the Egyptian desert, who not many days after I quitted him +was for his sanctity borne up to heaven by angels, and knew not death.' + +Aurelia viewed the relic with emotion. + +'Why,' she asked, 'do you offer it to me?' + +The monk drew a step nearer and whispered: + +'Because I know that you, like him from whom I received it, are of the +true faith.' + +Aurelia observed him closely. His robe was ragged and filthy; his bare +feet were thick with the dust of the road; his visage, much begrimed, +wore an expression of habitual suffering, and sighs as of pain +frequently broke from him. The hand by which he supported himself on a +staff trembled as with weakness. + +'You are not a presbyter?' she said in an undertone, after a glance at +his untonsured head. + +'I am unworthy of the meanest order in the Church. In pilgrimings and +fastings I do penance for a sin of youth. You see how wasted is my +flesh.' + +'What, then,' asked Aurelia, 'was the message you said you bore for me?' + +'This. Though I myself have no power to perform the sacraments of our +faith, I tend upon one who has. He lies not far from here, like myself +sick and weary, and, because of a vow, may not come within the +precincts of any dwelling. In Macedonia, oppressed by our persecutors, +he was long imprisoned, and so sorely tormented that, in a moment when +the Evil One prevailed over his flesh, he denied the truth. This sin +gave him liberty, but scarce had he come forth when a torment of the +soul, far worse than that of his body, fell upon him. He was delivered +over to the Demon, and, being yet alive, saw about him the fires of +Gehenna. Thus, for a season, did he suffer things unspeakable, +wandering in desert places, ahungered, athirst, faint unto death, yet +not permitted to die. One night of storm, he crept for shelter into the +ruins of a heathen temple. Of a sudden, a dreadful light shone about +him, and he beheld the Demon in the guise of that false god, who fell +upon him and seemed like to slay him. But Sisinnius--so is the holy man +named--strove in prayer and in conjuration, yea, strove hours until the +crowing of the cock, and thus sank into slumber. And while he slept, an +angel of the Most High appeared before him, and spoke words which I +know not. Since then, Sisinnius wanders from land to land, seeking out +the temples of the heathen which have not been purified, and passing +the night in strife with the Powers of Darkness, wherein he is ever +victorious.' + +With intent look did Aurelia listen to this narrative. At its close, +she asked eagerly: + +'This man of God has sent you to me?' + +'Moved by a vision--for in the sleep which follows upon his struggle it +is often granted him to see beyond this world. He bids you resist +temptation, and be of good courage.' + +'Know you what this bidding means?' inquired the awed woman, gazing +into the monk's eyes till they fell. + +'I know nothing. I am but a follower of the holy Sisinnius--an unworthy +follower.' + +'May I not speak with him?' + +The monk had a troubled look. + +'I have told you, lady, that he must not, by reason of his vow, enter a +human dwelling.' + +'But may I not go to him?' she urged. 'May I not seek him in his +solitude, guided by you?' + +To this, said the monk, he could give no reply until he had spoken with +Sisinnius. He promised to do so, and to return, though he knew not at +what hour, nor even whether it would be this day. And, after demanding +many assurances that he would come again as speedily as might be, +Aurelia allowed the messenger to depart. + +Meanwhile Basil and Marcian have spent an hour in talk, the result of +which was a decision that Marcian should again repair to the stronghold +of Venantius, and persuade him to come over to Surrentum. When his +friend had ridden forth Basil sought conversation with Aurelia, whom he +found in a mood unlike any she had yet shown to him, a mood of dreamy +trouble, some suppressed emotion appearing in her look and in her +speech. He began by telling her of Venantius, but this seemed to +interest her less than he had expected. + +'Cousin,' he resumed, 'I have a double thought in desiring that +Venantius should come hither. It is not only that I may talk with him +of the war, and learn his hopes, but that I may secure a safe retreat +for Veranilda when she is my wife, and for you, dear cousin, if you +desire it.' + +He spoke as strongly as he could without revealing the secret danger, +of the risks to which they would all be exposed when rumours of his +marriage reached the governor of Cumae, or the Greeks in Neapolis. +Until the Goths reached Campania, a Roman here who fell under suspicion +of favouring them must be prepared either to flee or to defend himself. +Defence of this villa was impossible even against the smallest body of +soldiers, but within the walls, raised and fortified by Venantius, a +long siege might be safely sustained. + +'It is true,' said Aurelia at length, as if rousing herself from her +abstraction, 'that we must think of safety. But you are not yet wedded.' + +'A few days hence I shall be.' + +'Have you forgotten,' she resumed, meeting his resolute smile, 'what +still divides you from Veranilda?' + +'You mean the difference of religion. Tell me, did that stand in the +way of your marriage with a Goth?' + +She cast down her eyes and was silent. + +'Was your marriage,' Basil went on, 'blessed by a Catholic or by an +Arian presbyter?' + +'By neither,' replied Aurelia gently. + +'Then why may it not be so with me and Veranilda? And so it shall be, +lady cousin,' he added cheerily. 'Our good Decius will be gone; we +await the sailing of the ship; but you and Marcian, and perhaps +Venantius, will be our witnesses.' + +For the validity of Christian wedlock no religious rite was necessary: +the sufficient, the one indispensable, condition was mutual consent. +The Church favoured a union which had been sanctified by the oblation +and the blessing, but no ecclesiastical law imposed this ceremony. As +in the days of the old religion, a man wedded his bride by putting the +ring upon her finger and delivering her dowry in a written document, +before chosen witnesses. Aurelia knew that even as this marriage had +satisfied her, so would it suffice to Veranilda, whom a rapturous love +made careless of doctrinal differences: She perceived, moreover, that +Basil was in no mood for religious discussion; there was little hope +that he would consent to postpone his marriage on such an account; yet +to convert Basil to 'heresy' was a fine revenge she would not willingly +forego, her own bias to Arianism being stronger than ever since the +wrong she believed herself to have suffered at the hands of the deacon, +and the insult cast at her by her long-hated aunt. After years of +bitterness, her triumph seemed assured. It was much to have inherited +from her father, to have expelled Petronilla; but the marriage of Basil +with a Goth, his renunciation of Catholicism, and with it the Imperial +cause, were greater things, and together with their attainment she +foredreamt the greatest of all, Totila's complete conquest of Italy. +She saw herself mistress in the Anician palace at Rome, commanding vast +wealth, her enemies mute, powerless, submissive before her. Then, if it +seemed good to her, she would again wed, and her excited imagination +deigned to think of no spouse save him whose alliance would make her +royal. + +Providential was the coming of the holy Sisinnius. Beyond doubt he had +the gift of prophecy. From him she would not only receive the +consolations of religion, but might learn what awaited her. Very slowly +passed the hours until the reappearance of the black monk. He came when +day was declining, and joyfully she learnt that Sisinnius permitted her +to visit him; it must be on the morrow at the second hour, the place a +spot in the ilex wood, not far away, whither the monk would guide her. +But she must come alone; were she accompanied, even at a distance, by +any attendant, Sisinnius would refuse to see her. To all the conditions +Aurelia readily consented, and bade the monk meet her at the appointed +hour by the breach in her garden wall. + +On the morrow there was no glory of sunrise; clouds hung heavy, and a +sobbing wind shook the dry leaves of the vine. But at the second hour, +after pretence of idling about the garden, Aurelia saw approach the +black, bowed figure, with a gesture bade him go before, and followed. +She was absent not long enough to excite the remark of her household. +In going forth she had been pale with agitation; at her return she had +a fire in her cheeks, a lustre in her eyes, which told of hopes +abundantly fulfilled. At once she sought Veranilda, to whom she had not +yet spoken of the monk's visit. At this juncture the coming even of an +ordinary priest of the Arian faith would have been more than welcome to +them, living as they perforce did without office or sacrament; but +Sisinnius, declared Aurelia, was a veritable man of God, one who had +visions and saw into the future, one whom merely to behold was a sacred +privilege. She had begged his permission to visit him again, with +Veranilda, and he had consented; but a few days must pass before that, +as the holy man was called away she knew not whither. When he summoned +them they must go forth in early morning, to a certain cave near at +hand, where Sisinnius would say mass and administer to them the +communion. Hearing such news, Veranilda gladdened. + +'Will the holy man reveal our fate to us?' she asked, with a child's +simplicity. + +'To me he has already uttered a prophetic word,' answered Aurelia, 'but +I may not repeat it, no, not even to you. Enough that it has filled my +soul with wonder and joy.' + +'May that joy also be mine!' said Veranilda, pressing her hands +together. + +This afternoon, when Basil sat with her and Aurelia, she took her +cithern, and in a low voice sang songs she had heard her mother sing, +in the days before shame and sorrow fell upon Theodenantha. There were +old ballads of the Goths, oftener stern than tender, but to the +listeners, ignorant of her tongue, Veranilda's singing made them sweet +as lover's praise. One little song was Greek; it was all she knew of +that language, and the sole inheritance that had come to her from her +Greek-loving grandparent, the King Theodahad. + +Auster was blowing; great lurid clouds rolled above the dark green +waters, and at evening rain began to fall. Through the next day, and +the day after that, the sky still lowered; there was thunder of waves +upon the shore; at times a mist swept down from the mountains, which +enveloped all in gloom. To Basil and Veranilda it mattered nothing. +Where they sat together there was sunshine, and before them gleamed an +eternity of cloudless azure. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE SNARE + + +Meanwhile all was made ready for the sailing of the ship. Coffined in +lead, the body of Maximus awaited only a return of fine weather for its +conveyance to the vessel. When at length calm fell upon the sea, and +after a still night of gentle rain the day broke radiantly, all +Surrentum was in movement between church and harbour. Mass having been +said, the bishop himself led the procession down the hollow way and +through the chasm in the cliffs seaward, whilst psalms were chanted and +incense burnt. Carried in her litter, Petronilla followed the bier; +beside her walked Basil and Decius. Only by conscious effort could +these two subdue their visages to a becoming sadness; for Basil thought +of his marriage, Decius of Rome and his library. Nor did Petronilla +wear an aspect of very profound gloom; at moments she forgot herself, +and a singular animation appeared on her proud features; it was as +though some exultancy took hold of her mind. + +That Aurelia held apart, that the daughter gave no testimony of +reverence for a father's remains, caused such murmuring in the crowd of +Surrentines: her heresy seemed to be made more notorious, more +abominable, by this neglect. At Surrentum, Arianism had never been +known; no Goth had ever dwelt here; and since Aurelia's arrival public +opinion had had time to gather force against her. It was believed that +she had driven forth with insults the most noble Petronilla, that +exemplar of charity and of a saintly life. Worse still was the rumour, +now generally believed, that the Senator's daughter had obtained her +inheritance by wicked hypocrisy, by a false show of return to the true +faith. Being herself so evil, it was not to be wondered that she +corrupted those who fell under her influence; the young lord Basil, for +instance, who, incredible as it sounded, was said to be on the point of +espousing a Gothic damsel, a mysterious attendant upon Aurelia, of whom +strange stories were rife. Talk of these things made no little +agitation in the town when ceremonies were over and the coffin had been +embarked. The generality threw up their hands, and cried shame, and +asked why the bishop did not take some action in so grave a scandal. +But here and there folk whispered together in a different tone, with +winkings and lips compressed, and nods significant of menace. Patience! +Wait a day or two, and they would see what they would see. Heaven was +not regardless of iniquity. + +Scarce had the ship weighed anchor, to be wafted across the bay by a +gentle wind, when Petronilla started on her land journey for Rome. The +great chariot, the baggage, the servants riding, made fresh commotion +in Surrentum; many accompanied the great lady along the winding road +until they were weary and their curiosity satisfied. To this obsequious +escort Petronilla uttered certain words which before evening were +repeated throughout the town. 'Let us forgive our enemies,' she said, +with that air of hers, at once so grand and so devout--'let us forgive +our enemies, but let us omit no means, however rigorous, of saving +their souls'; and of those who reported the saying, some winked and +nodded more significantly than ever. + +Just before sunset on this same day there was trampling of hoofs along +the road ascending to the villa, as two horsemen, with a dozen +followers, some on horses, some on mules, rode up. Summoned to the +atrium, Basil greeted the return of Marcian, and looked with curiosity +at the man standing beside him, who could be no other than Venantius. A +tall and comely man, wearing a casque and a light breastplate, his +years not more than thirty, rather slim, yet evidently muscular and +vigorous, he had a look of good-humoured determination, and the tones +in which he replied to Basil's welcome were those of a born commander. +In contrast with his host's elaborate courtesy, the manners of +Venantius might have been judged a trifle barbarous, but this bluntness +was no result of defective breeding; had he chosen, he could have +exchanged lofty titles and superlatives of compliment with any expert +in such fashionable extravagances, but he chose a plainer speech, in +keeping with his martial aspect. First of all he excused himself for +having arrived with so many followers. + +'But our good Marcian,' he added, clapping a hand on his companion's +shoulder, 'had a story to tell me of a fair lady and fairer +maiden--though not long to bear the name, she--who may belike need +protection as well as honourable attendance; whereas you, noble Basil, +have thought little of the use of arms, and probably keep no very +warlike retinue at command. So I mounted half a dozen bowmen, who will +ride and shoot with any Hun, and as many stout fellows who can wield +lance or throw javelin, and here they are at your gates. Have no fear +for the girls within doors; my men are both sober and chaste by +prudence, if not by nature. There was a time when I had to make an +example here and there'--he scowled a smile--'but now they know me.' + +Basil replied as became him, not without some slight imitation of his +guest's bluff manliness. Admiring, as he did, above all things, that +which savoured of heroism, he was strongly impressed by Venantius, +whose like, among natives of Rome, he had not yet beheld, who shone +before him, indeed, in a nobler light than any man he had seen since +the days when he worshipped Belisarius. Arrangements were speedily made +for the entertainment of the little armed troop, and as dusk gathered +the host and his two guests sat down to supper. Whilst the meal was +being made ready, Basil had found opportunity of speech with Aurelia, +who heard with great satisfaction of the coming of Venantius, and +promised to receive him early on the morrow. + +'The lady Aurelia's name is not unknown to me,' said Venantius, when +Basil spoke of her at table. He would have added a remark, but paused +with a look at the attendant slaves. 'Her illustrious father,' he went +on, 'I spoke with when I was young. But for the illness of Maximus I +should have ventured hither during this year gone by, notwithstanding +some difference in our view of things; or rather, to make sure whether +there really was as much difference as I supposed.' + +'Perchance you would have found that there was not,' said Basil. +'Certainly not towards the end.' + +'May his soul repose! He had the bearing which suited with his noble +name--a true Anicius to look upon. If Rome have need in these times of +another breed of citizens--and who can gainsay that?--she will not +forget such men as he, who lived with dignity when they could do no +more. You, my dear lord'--he turned towards Basil--'Anicius though you +are, see another way before you, what?' + +They talked far into the night. When he spoke of the Imperial +conquerors--'Greeklings' he called them--Venantius gave vent to his +wrath and scorn. The Goths were right when they asked what had ever +come out of Greece save mimes and pirates; land-thieves they might have +added, for what else were the generals of Justinian with their +pillaging hordes? They dared to speak of the Goths as barbarians--these +Herules, Isaurians, Huns, Armenians, and Teutons!--of the Goths, whose +pride it had so long been to defend Roman civilisation, and even to +restore the Roman edifices. What commander among them could compare +with Totila, brave, just, generous? + +'By the Holy Mother!' he cried, with a great gesture, 'if I were not +wedded to a wife I love, who has borne me already three boys as healthy +as wolf cubs, I would follow your example, O Basil, and take to myself +a blue-eyed daughter of that noble race. They are heretics, why yes, +but as far as I can make out they pray much as I do, and by heaven's +grace may yet be brought to hold the truth as to the Three-in-One. When +they had the power, did they meddle with our worship? Let every man +believe as he list, say I, so that he believe sincerely, and trust God +against the devil.' + +In the stillness of their secluded abode, Aurelia and Veranilda went to +rest earlier than usual this evening, for they were to arise before the +dawn. This afternoon they had been visited by the black monk, who +announced the return of Sisinnius, and invited them to the promised +mass on the morrow; and such was their agitation in the foretaste of +this religious ecstasy, as well as in the hope of having their future +revealed to them, that neither slept much during the night. Not long +after the crowing of the first cock, when all was silent and dark, +Aurelia stepped, with a lamp in her hand, into the maiden's chamber. + +'Is it the hour?' whispered Veranilda, raising herself. + +'Not yet. I have had a troubled dream. I dreamt that this night the +holy Sisinnius had fought with the demon, and had been worsted. O +Veranilda!'--the speaker's voice trembled--'what may this mean?' + +'Dearest lady,' answered the other reassuringly, 'may it not be a +temptation of the demon himself; who at times is permitted to tempt +even the holiest?' + +'And you, sweet? You have not dreamt?' + +'Only of Basil,' answered Veranilda, with a smile that asked pardon for +her happiness. + +They talked over the disquieting vision, whilst the little lamp-flame, +wavering in breaths of air, cast strange shadows about the room. On the +walls were faded frescoes, one of which represented the poetess Proba +on her knees before St. Agnes. Impelled by her fears, Aurelia of a +sudden knelt before this picture, and prayed silently to the virgin +martyr. Then Veranilda rose from the couch, and knelt beside her. +Having solaced their souls, they kissed each other tenderly. + +'You are not afraid,' whispered Veranilda, 'that Basil may be in the +garden when we go forth?' + +'Basil? Ah, little rogue, have you betrayed yourself?' + +'Of a truth, dearest lady, he has been there more than once, but not, +oh not so early!' + +'Nay, I hope not,' said Aurelia. 'It were scarce maidenly--' + +'Never, never before the east had broken for the dayspring! Never, I +swear to you, O my heart's friend!' + +'Then there is small fear of his interrupting us this morning; all the +more that he must have sat late with his friends, talking of many +things. I am glad of the coming of this brave Venantius; it puts an end +to every peril.' + +They conversed on this encouraging theme until Aurelia's ear caught the +sound of a footfall in the gallery. She stepped forth and encountered a +female slave, who told her that there wanted two hours to dawn; it was +time, then, to set forth and a few minutes saw them ready. In the +garden they were met by the watchman, who carried a lantern. He, having +merely been ordered to stand in readiness at this hour and being +ignorant of his mistress's intention, showed astonishment when he saw +Aurelia and her companion bent on going out. He took it for granted +that he was to accompany them. But at this moment there appeared in the +rays of the lantern a black figure, which had entered by the breach in +the wall. Aurelia whispered a few words to her watchman, whose religion +was the same as hers, and at once he dropped to his knees. + +'Peace be with you, good brother,' said the monk, in his feeble voice, +as he drew a lantern from beneath his cloak. You may not accompany us; +but have no fear. The way is short.' + +Forthwith he turned, and Aurelia, holding Veranilda's hand, followed +where he lighted the way. For a few minutes they pursued a level path, +then, passing between myrtles, began to descend the seaward slope. The +ground was rough, but the monk, going before, marked the places for +their footing. A few minutes thus, and they reached trees, black +against a sky sown with stars and overshimmered by a wasted moon. +Veranilda, who was trembling, clung to her companion's arm. + +'How much further?' asked Aurelia, striving to make her voice firm. +'This is not the way by which I came before.' + +'Scarce fifty steps. See you not the light yonder?' + +Among the trees was perceptible a faint shining. Hand tight clasped in +hand, the two moved forward over thick herbage, and still descended. +They drew near to the light, and saw that it issued from a little cave. +Within stood a man, bent as if with age and infirmities, his face +half-hidden under a cowl. When the visitors were near, he stretched +forth his arms, murmuring words of welcome, and the two knelt devoutly +before him. + +There was a moment of silence, then the cowled man again spoke, in a +voice firmer and less senile. + +'My daughters, you have come hither through the gloom of night and over +rough places, led by a faithful guide, whom you followed without doubt +or fear. You will have your reward. The darkness, the stones that made +your feet to stumble, what are these but symbols of your spiritual +state? In your blindness, you sought one blind as yourselves, to follow +whom was to walk in darkness eternal. But a beneficent Power has +watched over you, guiding your steps in the better way, whereof you +recked not.' + +Aurelia and Veranilda had raised their heads, and were gazing at him, +in fearful astonishment. + +'Be not troubled,' he went on, taking a step forward and speaking in a +voice strong and clear. 'Though unworthy, I am a priest of the faith in +which you, Aurelia, were baptized. In my hands you will suffer no harm, +no indignity. Be still, be silent. Behind you stand those who will not +permit you to flee, but who will conduct you hence as if they were your +own attendants if you do but follow me, as you needs must, without cry +or resistance.' + +Aurelia turned and saw a number of figures whom the dim light showed to +be men with weapons. A moan of anguish escaped her lips. Clinging to +her in terrified silence, Veranilda seemed about to sink to the ground. + +'Our way,' pursued the priest, who was now revealed as neither old nor +infirm, 'is down to the harbour. Not far from here a litter awaits you; +summon your strength for the short effort over rugged ground. Speak +words of comfort to this maiden; she also will ere long walk in the +light, and will be grateful to those who rescued her from the path of +destruction. Think not to escape us when we pass through the city; it +were vain to cry aloud; not a man in Surrentum would raise his hand to +release you, knowing, as all do, that we confine your body only to free +your soul from the bonds of the Enemy.' + +'Whither are you taking us?' asked Aurelia, suddenly commanding +herself, and speaking with cold scorn. + +'That you will know before the evening. Enough for the present that you +will travel without fatigue and without danger. Follow now whither I +lead.' + +He moved forward, and the armed men, half a dozen in number, among whom +stood the black monk, closed about the prisoners. Seeing the futility +of any resistance, Aurelia whispered to her companion such words of +encouragement as she could find, and supported her with her arms. But +Veranilda had overcome the first terror which made her droop. + +'Basil will find and release us,' she whispered back. 'While he has +life, Basil will not forsake us.' + +And with unfaltering steps she moved onward, holding Aurelia's hand. + +Their path, illumined by lanterns, the guards presently issued from the +wood, and came to the place where the litter was waiting. Hence the +captives were borne rapidly towards the haven. As they entered the city +gates, Aurelia raised the curtain which concealed her, and looked out +at the men on watch; words exchanged between them and her conductors +only confirmed what the priest had said, and made her understand that +she was powerless amid enemies. + +'Are we not to have a look at the Gothic beauty?' cried one fellow, +when the litter was passing. + +'Peace!' answered the priest sternly; and nothing more was said. + +Through the streets they were followed by a few persons. These, calling +to each other, collected at length a small crowd, which hung about the +litter when it reached the place of embarkation. Here torches were +burning; their red glare fell upon angry or mocking faces, and every +moment the crowd increased. With utmost speed the prisoners were passed +into a little boat, then rowed to a vessel lying at the harbour mouth. +As the ship hoisted sail, dawn began to glimmer over the flank of +Vesuvius. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +CHORSOMAN + + +Fearful of sleeping till after sunrise, Basil had bidden Felix arouse +him this morning; and, as he had much to talk of with Veranilda, he +betook himself to the garden very early. + +Aurelia's watchman was standing without, gazing anxiously now this way, +now that, surprised by his mistress's failure to return; on the +appearance of Basil he withdrew, but only to a spot whence he could +survey the garden. All impatience, the lover waited, as minute after +minute slowly passed. Dawn was broadening to day, but Veranilda came +not. An agony of disappointment seized upon him, and he stood at length +in the attitude of one sickening with despair. Then a footstep +approached, and he saw the slave whose watch he had relieved come +forward with so strange a look that Basil could only stare at him. + +'My lord,' said the man, 'there is one at the gate of the villa who +brings I know not what news for you.' + +'One at the gate? News?' echoed Basil, his heart sinking with dread +anticipation. 'What mean you, fellow?' + +'Most noble, I know nothing,' stammered the frightened slave 'I beseech +your greatness to inquire. They say--I know not what--' + +Basil sped across the garden and into Aurelia's dwelling. Here he found +a group of servants talking excitedly together; at view of him, they +fell back as if fear-stricken. From one, Aurelia's old nurse, rose a +wail of distress; upon her Basil rushed, grasped her by the arm, and +sternly demanded what had happened. Dropping to her knees with a shrill +cry, the woman declared that Aurelia had vanished, that some one from +the city had seen her carried away before dawn. + +'Alone?' asked Basil in a terrible voice. + +'Lord, I know not,' wailed the woman, grovelling at his feet. + +'Is Veranilda in her chamber?' he asked violently. + +'Gone!' replied a faint voice from amid the group of servants. + +'Where is this messenger?' + +Without waiting for a reply, he sprang forward. In the portico which +led to the villa he heard his name shouted, and he knew the voice for +Marcian's; another moment and Marcian himself appeared, pale, agitated. + +'Why do you seek me?' cried Basil. + +'You come from yonder? Have you seen Aurelia? Then it is true.' + +Marcian told the news brought up from Surrentum by some person unknown, +who, having uttered it in the porter's ear, had at once fled. + +'Go call Venantius,' said Basil, when he had heard the brief story, +'and bring him straight to Aurelia's house. They are gone; that +slinking slave shall tell me how, or I will tear it out of him with his +soul.' + +Back he rushed, and found the nurse still crouching on the floor, +wailing. He made her lead him to her lady's chamber, and to that of +Veranilda, where nothing unusual met their eyes. The watchman was then +summoned; he came like one half dead, and smote the ground with his +forehead before the young noble, who stood hand on dagger. A fierce +interrogatory elicited clear and truthful answers; when Basil learned +what Aurelia had whispered to her servant as she went forth, he uttered +a groan. + +'Marcian! Venantius!' he cried, for at that moment the two entered the +atrium. 'I understand it all. Why had I no fear of this?' + +That Aurelia had been deceived and inveigled by one professing to be an +Arian priest, seemed clear from the watchman's story. For the +originator of the plot, Basil had not far to look. This was the +vengeance of Petronilla. But whither the two captives would be +conveyed, was less easy to conjecture. Perhaps to Cumae. The thought +stung Basil to frenzy, for, if Veranilda once fell into the hands of +the Greeks, what hope had he of ever seeing her again? + +'Did Petronilla know?' he asked of Marcian. + +'Who can say?' answered his friend, easily understanding the curtailed +question. 'Like enough that she had sent to Cumae to learn all she +could; and in that case, she found, you may be sure, ready instruments +of her malice. Were it not better,' Marcian added in an aside, 'to tell +Venantius what danger threatened Veranilda?' + +The warlike Roman, who, aroused on an alarm, had instantly equipped +himself with casque and sword, stood listening to what passed, sniffing +the air and rolling his eyes about as if he desired nothing better than +a conflict. The others now drew him aside into a more private place, +and made known to him their reason for fearing that the Gothic maiden +had been seized by emissaries from Cumae. + +'Had I heard that story before,' said Venantius, all but laughing with +angry surprise, 'Veranilda would now be safe in my castle; for, instead +of lingering, I should have come straightway, to rescue her and you. +Holy Peter and Paul! You sported here, day after day, knowing that the +hounds of Justinian had scent of the maid you carried away? You, Basil, +might commit such folly, for you were blinded to everything by your +love. But, Marcian, how came you to let him loll in his dream of +security? Why did you conceal this from me? By Castor! it was +unfriendly as it was imprudent. You robbed me of a sweet morsel when +you denied me the chance of balking the Greeks in such a matter as +this. Nay, the bird is caged at Cumae, be sure.' + +Marcian's brows were knit, and his eyes cast down as he listened to +this reproof. + +'I had not thought of Petronilla,' he murmured. 'But for her, the +danger was not pressing. That thick-skulled Hun at Cumae easily let +himself be blinded, as I told you.' + +'How could I forget,' cried Basil, 'that Petronilla would risk +damnation rather than lose her vengeance upon Aurelia But,' he added, +with sudden change from gloom to vehemence, 'that woman is not beyond +our reach. Only yesterday did she set forth for Rome, and she may have +passed the night at Neapolis. A horseman will easily overtake her. +Felix!' he shouted. 'Our horses!--she shall pay for this if my hands +can get at her throat!' + +Felix appeared, but not in answer to his master's summons; he came +precipitately, followed by a swarm of frightened slaves, to announce +another surprise. Before the villa stood a hostile multitude, folk of +Surrentum, who demanded admittance, and, if denied, would enter by +force. At this news Venantius hastened to muster his troop of archers +and spearmen. Basil and Marcian, having made sure that all entrances +were locked and barred, went to the front gate, and through a wicket +surveyed the assailants. These seemed to be mainly of the baser class; +they had armed themselves with all sorts of rude weapons, which they +brandished menacingly, shouting confused maledictions. From the porter +Basil learned that those who had first presented themselves at the door +had demanded that 'the heretics' should be given up to them; and by +listening to the cries, he understood that the wrath of these people +was directed against the Arian servants brought hither by Aurelia. +Through the wicket he held colloquy with certain leaders of the throng. + +'The heretics! Yield to us the accursed heretics!' shouted a burly +fellow armed with an ox-goad. + +'For what usage?' asked Basil. + +'That's as they choose. If they like to come before the bishop and turn +Christian--why, a little correction shall suffice. If not, they have +only themselves and the devil to blame.' + +By this time Venantius and his retainers stood in the forecourt. To +him, the routing of such a rabble seemed a task not worth speaking of, +but some few would no doubt be slain, and Basil shrank from such +extremities. + +'Would you give up these trembling wretches?' asked Venantius +scornfully, pointing to the four slaves, male and female, Arians either +by origin or by conversion to please Aurelia, whom she had brought from +Cumae. On their knees they were imploring protection. + +'Nay, I will fight for their safety,' Basil answered. 'But if we can +frighten off this tag-rag without bloodshed so much the better.' + +Venantius consented to make the attempt. On the upper villa was an open +gallery looking over the entrance, and fully visible from where the +invaders stood. Hither the armed men ascended and stood in line, the +bowmen with arrows on string. Their lord, advancing to the parapet, +made a signal demanding silence, and spoke in a audible to every ear in +the throng. + +'Dogs! You came on this errand thinking that the villa was defenceless. +See your mistake! Each one of these behind me has more arrows in store +than all your number, and never shot bolt from bow without piercing the +mark. Off! Away with your foul odours and your yelping throats! And if, +when you have turned tail, any cur among you dares to bark back that I, +Venantius of Nuceria, am no true Catholic, he shall pay for the lie +with an arrow through chine and gizzard!' This threat he confirmed with +a terrific oath of indisputable orthodoxy. + +The effect was immediate. Back fell the first rank of rioters, pressing +against those in the rear; and without another cry, with only a low, +terrified growling and snarling, the crowd scattered in flight. + +'There again I see Petronilla,' declared Basil, watching the rout with +fierce eyes. 'I'll swear that, before starting, she set this game +afoot. I must after her, Venantius.' + +'Alone?' + +'Mother of God! if I had your men! But I will make soldiers of my own. +Some of the likeliest from our folk here shall follow me; enough to +stay that she-wolf's journey till I can choke the truth out of her.' + +Venantius, his eyes fixed on the descending road by which the rabble +had disappeared, caught sight of something which held him mute for a +moment. Then he gave a snort of surprise. + +'What's this? There are no Greek soldiers in Surrentum.' + +Yet unmistakable soldiers of the Imperial army were approaching. First +came into sight a commanding officer; he rode a little in advance of +the troop, which soon showed itself to consist of some two score +mounted men, armed with bows and swords. And in the rear came the +rabble of Surrentines, encouraged to return by this arrival of armed +authority. + +'That is Chorsoman,' said Marcian, as soon as he could distinguish the +captain's feature, 'the commander at Cumae.' + +'Then it is not to Cumae that they have carried her!' exclaimed Basil, +surmising at once that the Hun was come in pursuit of Veranilda. + +'Time enough to think of that,' growled Venantius, as he glared from +under black brows at the advancing horsemen. 'What are we to do? To +resist is war, and this villa cannot be held for an hour. Yet to yield +is most likely to be made prisoners. Marcian!' + +Marcian was watching and listening with a look of anxious thought. +Appealed to for his counsel, he spoke decidedly. + +'Withdraw your men and go down. Resistance is impossible. Chorsoman +must enter, but trust me to manage him. I answer for your liberty.' + +Venantius led his men down to the inner court. Basil, careless of +everything but the thought that Veranilda was being borne far from him, +he knew not whither, went to get horses ready, that he might pursue +Petronilla as soon as the road was free. Marcian, having spoken with +the porter, waited till a thundering at the gate announced Chorsoman's +arrival, then had the doors thrown open, and stood with a calm smile to +meet the commander. + +'Fair greeting to your Magnificence!' he began with courtesy. 'Be +welcome to this villa, where, in absence of its mistress, I take upon +myself to offer you hospitality.' + +Chorsoman had dismounted, and stood with half a dozen of his followers +behind him in the portico. At sight of Marcian his face became +suspicious. + +'By mistress,' he replied gruffly, stepping forward, 'I suppose you +mean the daughter of Maximus. Where is she?' + +Marcian would have continued the conversation within, but the Hun chose +to remain standing in the for-court, the gate wide open. From the +Surrentines he had already heard the story of Aurelia's disappearance, +which puzzled and angered him, for no one professed to be able to +explain what had happened, yet his informants declared that the Roman +lady and the Gothic maiden had been carried away without the knowledge +of the men who were their protectors. This was now repeated by Marcian, +who professed himself overwhelmed by the event. + +'You have here one Basilius,' said Chorsoman. + +'The same whom your greatness saw on a certain occasion at Cumae.' + +'They tell me he was about to wed with Veranilda. What does that mean?' + +'An idle rumour,' replied Marcian, 'springing from vulgar gossip, and +from the spiteful anger of the lady sister of Maximus, who hoped to +inherit what has fallen to her niece. Let your valorous magnificence be +assured that there is no truth in it. Can you imagine that I, whose +mission is known to you, should have looked on at such an audacity? I +think your perspicuity will not require better proof of the powers with +which I am intrusted than that I gave you at Cumae?' + +Of the profound contempt proclaimed, rather than disguised, by +Marcian's extravagant courtesy, Chorsoman had no inkling; but his +barbaric mind resented the complexity of things with which it was +confronted, and he felt a strong inclination to take this +smooth-tongued Latin by the throat, so as to choke the plain truth out +of him. Why, he demanded fiercely, had not Aurelia and her companion +travelled straight on to Rome, as he had been assured they were to do? + +'For a simple reason,' answered Marcian. 'I judged an escort necessary, +and only yesterday did I obtain it. This very day should we have set +forth.' + +'You speak of one Venantius and his followers--he who just now, I am +told, threatened to massacre the harmless citizens of Surrentum.' + +'I would rather say the most noble Venantius, a senator, but for whose +presence this villa would have been sacked by a thievish rabble from +below.' + +'Let me see him,' said the Hun, his eyes like those of a boar at bay. + +'Will it please your Illustrious Magnanimity to eat with us?' + +'I will eat when I choose. Fetch here Venantius.' + +Marcian despatched the porter, and in a few moments Venantius appeared, +behind him his armed men. A hand lightly on his sword, as though he +played with the hilt, his head proudly erect, the Roman noble paused at +a few paces from the Hun, and regarded him with bold steadfastness. + +'You serve the Emperor?' said Chorsoman, somewhat less overbearingly +than he had spoken hitherto. + +'When occasion offers,' was the dry response. + +On the Hun's countenance grew legible the calculation busying his +thought. At a glance he had taken the measure of Venantius, and gauged +the worth of the men behind him. A smile, which could not mask its +cunning, came on to his lips, and all of a sudden he exchanged his +truculence for amiability. + +'Lord Venantius,' he said, laying an open palm on his own breast, and +then motioning with it towards the Roman, 'you and I, two men of +valour, can understand each other in few words. I am no talker'--his +narrow eyes glanced at Marcian--'nor are you. Tell me, if you can, what +has become of the lady Aurelia and of the Gothic maiden who attended +upon her.' + +'Lord Chorsoman,' replied Venantius, 'I thought it was you who could +have answered that question. The ladies Aurelia and Veranilda have this +morning disappeared, and we judged it likely that they had been enticed +from the villa to be captured and borne to Cumae.' + +'Who should have done that?' + +'Emissaries of your own, we supposed.' + +The Hun reflected. + +'This man of words'--he nodded sideways at Marcian--'spoke of a woman's +malice. Explain to me.' + +Venantius told what he knew of Petronilla's enmity, and the listener +had no difficulty in coming to the conclusion which to Basil had been +evident from the first. It was possible moreover, that Cumae might be +the place to which the captives had been conveyed, for Chorsoman had +left the fortress yesterday to come hither by way of Neapolis, his +reason for the expedition being news of Veranilda's approaching +marriage, brought to him by a fisherman who said he had been paid by a +person unknown. Did Petronilla, he next inquired, know that Veranilda +was to be sent to the East? To this Marcian replied with a negative, +adding: + +'Unless your Illustrious Discretion have seen fit to spread abroad what +I imparted to your private ear.' + +'My tongue is not so loose as yours,' was the Hun's rejoinder. + +Again he reflected, with the result that he decided to send a messenger +at once to Cumae. Until news could be brought back he should remain +here in the villa. This intention he announced in a tone abundantly +significant, his hearers understanding that Aurelia's property was now +in hands not accustomed to relax their grasp. + +'Lord Venantius,' he added, 'as your escort is no longer needed, you +will wish, no doubt, to return forthwith to your own abode. It will not +be long before you have the occasion you desire of proving your loyalty +to the Emperor. Brave men both, we may presently fight side by side. +Let us sit at table together, and then good-speed!' + +With a haughty glare Venantius heard this dismissal. A reply surged +into his throat, but he swallowed it again, remembering that more than +his personal safety was at stake. + +'You will pardon me, lord,' he replied, 'if I do not stay to break my +fast. I am of impatient humour, and never willingly linger when a +journey is before me.' + +'As you will,' said Chorsoman, with a slight knitting of his brows. +'You ride alone, I suppose?' + +'The lord Basil, who starts for Rome, will give me his company as far +as our ways are one.' + +Chorsoman gave a glance at the soldiers in his rear, then at Marcian, +and smiled grimly. + +'I fear you must go without lord Basil. I shall have need of him.' + +There was a very short silence; then Marcian spoke, with bland decision. + +'Commander, this cannot be. Basil carries letters of urgency to Rome +and Ravenna; letters which I would not intrust to any one else. Your +Sublimity will see that it is impossible to delay him.' + +Teeth hard set, and eyes aflame, the Hun took a step forward. In the +same instant, Venantius laid a hand upon his sword, and, at the +gesture, his armed men looked to their weapons. + +'Where is this Basil?' demanded Chorsoman. + +'I will let him know if you wish to speak with him,' replied Marcian. + +'You shall be spared the trouble. Lord Venantius, bid your followers +retire and get their horses ready, whilst you and I go in search of +lord Basil. You will not refuse me your company for a few minutes?' + +Cunning had again subdued the Hun's violence, and discretion prevailed +with the Roman. Together they passed through the atrium, Chorsoman +casting eager glances about him, and to the inner court; but the +followers of Venantius, obedient to a silent order, still kept their +position in face of the Greek soldiers, and this Chorsoman knew. + +'You understand,' said the Hun, when they were alone together, you, a +brave and honourable man, how my duty to the Emperor obliges me to act. +I, of course, take possession of this villa until Aurelia is +discovered. And, however important his mission, I cannot allow Basil to +depart without some security--you will understand that.' + +The barbarous accent with which these sentences were uttered caused +Venantius almost as much disgust as the plundering purpose they avowed. + +'What security?' he asked. + +Chorsoman named a large sum of money. As he spoke, Basil himself +appeared; and with brief preface, the matter under debate was reported +to him. He glanced at Venantius but could find no counsel in the dark, +stern face. Foreseeing the result of the Hun's visit, Basil had +hastened to conceal on his own person a considerable weight of coin, +and had intrusted something like the same amount to Felix. In the +treasure chamber lay a mass of wealth now belonging to Aurelia, and the +mere fact of this being under lock and key by no means secured it +against the commander's greed. Marcian came forward, and hearing the +talk of ransom, endeavoured to awe the Hun into moderation, but with +less success than he had had at Cumae. So he led Basil aside, told him +of the messenger sent to Cumae, as well as of the inventions by which +Chorsoman had been beguiled, and counselled mere inaction until news +came. Marcian then inquired of the commander whether, in case Veranilda +were found at Cumae, he would permit her to be sent on to Rome under +the escort already provided; but to this Chorsoman vouchsafed no direct +reply: he would consider the matter. + +Negotiations had reached this point when new visitors arrived, the +Bishop of Surrentum and presbyter Joannes. Though suffering much, the +good bishop had risen from bed as soon as the exciting events of this +morning had reached his ear His innocence of complicity in the plot +against Aurelia and Veranilda, no one who saw him could doubt; with +astonishment he had heard of the priests and their armed attendants, +and with indignation of the citizens' tumultuous behaviour. What right +or reason had folk to proclaim that Aurelia was still a heretic, and +that she should not have been allowed to inherit property? Who, he +asked severely, could read her heart? And when inquiry made it too +certain that all this angry feeling had originated with Petronilla, the +prelate shook his head sadly, thinking more than he cared to say. +Arrived at the villa, he first of all learnt all he could as to the +position of things (declaring total ignorance when the Hun sought to +examine him as to the relations of Basil and Veranilda), then made +earnest inquiry whether there really were slaves here who professed +Arianism. The four were summoned; overcome with dread, they prostrated +them selves, and entreated the bishop to make them Catholics Having +heard from them that they all had been baptized (the Roman Church held +the baptism of Arians valid), he sent them apart for summary +instruction by Joannes, and afterwards laid his reconciling hands upon +them. Thus had the Church gained four members, and the good folk of +Surrentum lost a heretic-baiting. + +With the proceedings of the Imperial commander the worthy cleric could +not interfere. He spoke privately with Basil, and betrayed, in a gentle +severity of mien, his suspicion of the young noble's state of mind, but +of this not a word fell from him; his concern seemed to be solely with +the lady Aurelia, regarding whom he would set every possible inquiry on +foot. He advised Basil not to leave the neighbourhood for a day or two, +and to communicate with him before he went far. Gratefully Basil kissed +the old man's hand. They never met again. A week later the bishop was +dead. + +After all, Venantius sat at table with Chorsoman. Fuming, he waited +till the next morning, when, if the news could be believed, it became +certain that Aurelia and her companion were not at Cumae. Basil, having +no choice, then paid for ransom nearly all the money he had secreted, +and rode away with Venantius, purposing to remain at Nuceria until +joined by Marcian. Three days later Marcian appeared at the castle He +brought no intelligence of the lost ladies. As for their abode, it had +been thoroughly pillaged; the treasure chamber was discovered and +broken open; not a coin, not a vessel or ornament which had its price, +not a piece of silk, had escaped the clutches of the Hun. + +Chorsoman's departure was followed by an invasion of the Surrentines, +who robbed more grossly. A fire broke out in the house of Proba, and +much of that building was destroyed. In the once magnificent villa +there lurked but a few slaves, who knew not whether their owner lived. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE ANICIANS + + +Not many days after, in a still noontide of mellow autumn, Basil and +Marcian drew towards Rome. They rode along the Via Appia, between the +tombs of ancient men; all about them, undulant to the far horizon, a +brown wilderness dotted with ruins. Ruins of villas, of farms, of +temples, with here and there a church or a monastery that told of the +newer time. Olives in scant patches, a lost vineyard, a speck of tilled +soil, proved that men still laboured amid this vast and awful silence, +but rarely was a human figure visible. As they approached the city, +marshy ground and stagnant pools lay on either hand, causing them to +glance sadly at those great aqueducts, which for ages had brought water +into Rome from the hills and now stood idle, cleft by the Goths during +the siege four years ago. + +They rode in silence, tired with their journey, occupied with heavy or +anxious thoughts. Basil, impatient to arrive, was generally a little +ahead. Their attendants numbered half a dozen men, among them Felix and +Sagaris, and two mules laden with packs came in the rear. Earthworks +and rough buildings of military purpose, again recalling the twelve +months' blockade, presently appeared; churches and oratories told them +they were passing the sacred ground of the catacombs; then they crossed +the little Almo, rode at a trot along a hollow way, and saw before them +the Appian Gate. Only a couple of soldiers were on guard; these took a +careless view of the travellers, and let them pass without speaking. + +Marcian rode up to his friend's side, and spoke softly. + +'You have promised to be advised by me.' + +Basil answered only with a dull nod. + +'I will see her to-day,' continued the other, 'and will bring you the +news before I sleep.' + +'Do so.' + +No more words passed between them. On their left hand they saw the +Thermae of Caracalla, their external magnificence scarce touched by +decay, but waterless, desolate; in front rose the Caelian, covered with +edifices, many in ruin, and with neglected or altogether wild gardens; +the road along which they went was almost as silent as that without the +walls. Arrived at a certain point, the two looked at each other and +waved a hand; then Marcian, with Sagaris and one other servant, pushed +forward, whilst Basil, followed by the rest of the train, took an +ascending road to the right. + +The house in which he was born, and where he alone now ruled, stood on +the summit of the Caelian. Before it stood the ruined temple of +Claudius, overlooking the Flavian Amphitheatre; behind it ranged the +great arches of the Neronian aqueduct; hard by were the round church of +St. Stephen and a monastery dedicated to St. Erasmus. By a narrow, +grass-grown road, between walls overhung with ivy, Basil ascended the +hill; but for the occasional bark of a dog, nothing showed that these +buildings of old time were inhabited; and when he drew rein before his +own portico, the cessation of the sound of hoofs made a stillness like +that among the Appian sepulchres. Eyeless, hoary, with vegetation +rooted here and there, the front of the house gave no welcome. Having +knocked, Basil had to wait for some moments before there came a sign of +opening. With drooped head, he seemed to watch the lizards playing in +the sunshine upon a marble column. + +A wicket opened, and at once there sounded from within an exclamation +of joyful surprise. After much clanking, the door yielded, and an +elderly servant, the freedman Eugenius, offered greeting to his lord. +Basil's first question was whether Decius had been there; he learnt +that his kinsman was now in the house, having come yesterday to reside +here from the Anician palace beyond the Tiber. + +'Tell him at once that I am here. Stay; I dare say he is in the +library. I will go to him.' + +He passed through the atrium, adorned with ancestral busts and with the +consular fasces which for centuries had signified nothing, through a +room hung with tapestry and floored with fine mosaic, through the +central court, where the fountain was dry, and by a colonnade reached +the secluded room which was called library, though few books remained +out of the large collection once guarded here. In a sunny embrasure, a +codex open on his knees, sat the pale student; seeing Basil, he started +up in great surprise, and, when they had embraced, regarded him +anxiously. + +'How is this? What has happened? Some calamity, I see.' + +'Seek some word, O Decius, to utter more than that. I have suffered +worse than many deaths.' + +'My best, my dearest Basil!' murmured the other tenderly. 'You have +lost her?' + +'Lost her? yes; but not as you mean it. Is Petronilla in Rome?' + +'She arrived the day before yesterday, two hours after sunset.' + +'And you have seen her, talked with her?' + +'I was at the house yonder when she came.' + +'And she behaved ill to you?' asked Basil. + +'Far from that, Petronilla overwhelmed me with affection and courtesy. +I knew not,' proceeded Decius smiling, 'how I had all at once merited +such attention. I came away merely because this situation better suits +my health. Down by the river I have never been at ease. But let me hear +what has befallen you.' + +Basil told his story, beginning with the explanation of Veranilda's +importance in the eyes of the Greek commander. After learning from the +Hun that nothing was known of the lost ladies at Cumae, he had +impatiently lingered for three days in the castle of Venantius, on the +chance that Marcian might be able to test the truth of Chorsoman's +report; but his friend made no discovery, and in despair he set out for +Rome. To all this Decius listened with wonder and with sympathy. He had +no difficulty in crediting Petronilla with such a plot, but thought she +could scarce have executed it without the help of some one in +authority. Such a person, he added cautiously, as a deacon of the Roman +Church. Hereupon Basil exclaimed that he and Marcian had had the same +suspicion. + +'I will find her,' he cried, 'if it cost me my life! And I will be +revenged upon those who have robbed me of her. She may at this moment +be in Rome. The ship that carried her off was large enough, they say, +to make the voyage, and winds have been favourable. My good Decius, I +am so overcome with misery that I forget even to ask how you sped on +the sea.' + +'A smooth and rapid voyage. I had only time to reperuse with care the +_Silvae_ of Statius--his Epicedion being appropriate to my mood. +Arrived at Portus, I sent a post to those who awaited the ship's +coming, and the remains of Maximus were brought with all due honour to +their resting place.' + +'Was the deacon Leander here to receive you?' asked Basil. + +'I learnt that he had not yet been heard of.' + +They exchanged a significant look, and Basil remarked that he would +soon discover the deacon's movements since his leaving Surrentum. +Marcian was even now on his way to visit Petronilla, and would come +with news this evening. + +'If I could know,' he cried, 'whether she has been delivered to the +Greeks, or is kept imprisoned by that Megaera! It may be that +Petronilla is ignorant of what I have told you; yet, if so, I fear she +will soon learn it, for Chorsoman will write--if the barbarian can +write--to Bessas, and cannot but mention her. There are prisons in Rome +for those who offend the tyrant of Byzantium.' + +'It troubles me to hear you say that,' said Decius, with an anxious +glance. + +'I, too, may be in peril, you think,' replied his kinsman gloomily. +'True, all the more that I am known to have just inherited. Bessas +takes a peculiar interest in such people. Be that as it will. Let us +turn for a moment to other things.' + +They spoke of the duties that had to be discharged by Basil as his +uncle's heir. On the morrow he must assemble such of his kinsfolk as +were in Rome, and exhibit to them the testament. Aurelia's part in it +would of course excite discussion, perhaps serious objection; whereas +her disappearance would probably be regarded as a matter of small +moment, and Petronilla, even if suspected, could count on sympathy. +When he left the library, Basil found all the members of his household, +from the old nurse Aguella, whose privilege it was to treat him with +motherly affection, to the men who groomed his horse, assembled outside +to give him welcome. His character and bearing were such as earn the +good-will of dependents; though proud and impatient, he never behaved +harshly, and a service well rendered often had its recognition. Among +the young men of his rank, he was notable for temperance in pleasures; +his slaves regarded him as above common temptations of the flesh, and, +though this might be a loss to them in one way, they boasted of it when +talking to the slaves of masters less exceptional. Having learnt from +Felix that their lord was heir of Maximus, the servants received him +with even more than wonted respect. One of them was the steward of his +estate in Picenum, who had arrived at Rome a few days ago; with him +Basil had private talk, received money which the man had brought, heard +of the multitudinous swine in his oak forest, and of the yield of his +fruit trees. That strip of the Adriatic coast south of Ancona had +always been famous for its pears and apples, and choice examples of the +fruit lay on Basil's table to-day. When he had supped, he anxiously +awaited the coming of Marcian. It was two hours after nightfall before +his friend appeared, having come in a litter, with torch-bearing +attendants, from the Palatine, where he had supped with Bessas, the +Greek commander. + +The news he brought was disquieting. Bessas had just received +despatches from Cumae, which acquainted him with the story of +Veranilda's disappearance, so far as it was known to Chorsoman; he wore +a heavy brow about the business, swore that the Gothic damsel should be +found, if it cost the skins of all who had had anything to do with her. + +'I partly soothed the brute,' concluded Marcian, 'by telling him that +Petronilla was within such easy reach. Her he will summon to-morrow.' + +'You promised to see her,' said Basil impatiently. + +'Do I often break my promises? I saw her before going even to my own +house, with the dust of the journey still upon me.' + +'Ever kind Marcian?' + +'Why so hasty to think me less than kind?' returned the other, with his +smile of sad irony. 'I saw her, though with difficulty. She kept me +waiting like an importunate poor kinsman, and when I was received, she +sat like the Empress giving audience. I did not touch the earth with my +forehead; nay, I stood looking at her with a look she did not easily +bear. That she is guilty, I am sure; I read triumph in her eyes as soon +as I spoke of Aurelia. That she would deny all knowledge of the affair +was only to be expected. Moreover, she has taken possession of the +great house yonder, and declares that Aurelia, as a heretic, can claim +nothing under her father's will. You, of course, the heir, can expel +her, if you think it worth the trouble. But let us see the result of +her conversation with Bessas. She smiled disdainfully when I mentioned +his name, and tried to continue smiling when I carelessly explained the +interest he had in finding Veranilda; but she was frightened, I heard +it in her hoarse voice when she began to speak evil of Veranilda.' + +'What!' cried Basil. 'Evil of Veranilda!' + +'Such as naturally comes to the tongue of an angry woman.' + +The lover raged, Marcian listening with a sad, half-absent look. Their +talk continued for a long time, arid, because of the lateness of the +hour, Marcian stayed to sleep in his friend's house. Before sunrise on +the morrow, Basil sent forth his invitations to all of the Anician +blood in Rome. The first to respond was Gordianus, whose dwelling on +the Clivus Scauri stood but a few minutes' walk away. Though but a +little older than Basil, Gordian had been for several years a husband +and a father; he was in much esteem for his worldly qualities, and more +highly regarded for the fervour of his religious faith. A tall, +handsome, dignified man, he looked straight before him with frank eyes, +and his lips told of spirit tempered by kindliness. Between him and his +relative no great intimacy existed, for their modes of life and of +thought were too dissimilar, but each saw the good in the other, and +was attracted by it. Not long ago Gordian had conceived the project of +giving his young sister Aemiliana as wife to Basil. Maximus favoured +this design, but his nephew showed no eagerness to carry it out, and +Roman gossip presently found a reason for that. Among the leaders of +fashion and of pleasure--for fashion and pleasure did not fail to +revive in Rome soon after the horrors of the siege--shone a lady named +Heliodora, the Greek wife of a little-respected senator, who, favoured +by Bessas, rose to the position of City Prefect. With Heliodora's +character rumour made very free; the captives of her beauty were said +to be numerous, and one of the names mentioned by those who loved such +scandal was that of the young Basil. Gordian, finding that there was +some ground for this suspicion, spoke no more of the suggested +marriage, and it was at his instance that Maximus, ill in Campania, +summoned Basil away from the city. Reports from Surrentum gave reason +to hope that this measure had succeeded. But to-day, as he entered +Basil's house, Gordian's face wore a troubled look, and there was no +warmth in his response to the greeting which met him. + +'You have sent for me, my dear lord,' he began with grave and distant +courtesy, 'to speak of the matter of your inheritance. Forgive me if I +first of all ask you a question--of more intimate concern. Is it true +that you have taken a wife?' + +Basil, in whom fatigue and misery had left little patience, began +quivering in every nerve, and made blunt answer: + +'It is not true, arid she who told you contrived the lie.' + +'You speak of the lady Petronilla,' pursued Gordian gently. 'Can I +think that she has wilfully deceived me?' + +'Think it not, my lord Gordian,' returned the other; 'if Petronilla +told you I was married, she lied.' + +'That is strange indeed. Listen, I pray you, to the story heard in Rome +since Petronilla returned. It is right that you should hear it just as +it comes from her own lips.' + +Thereupon Gordian repeated a narrative which would have been +substantially true had it not crowned Basil's love with marriage. The +listener, shaken with violent passion, could scarce wait till the end. + +'And now hear _me_,' he cried. 'If I were prudent, I also should lie, +for the truth may be dangerous. But you shall know it, O Gordian, and +if you choose to harm me--' + +The other raised a hand, and so full of dignity was this gesture, so +solemn the look which accompanied it, that Basil's vehemence felt +itself rebuked; he grew silent and listened. + +'Basil, check your tongue, which I see will be your greatest peril. Do +not confide in me, for I know not whether I can respect your +confidence. Let us speak of other things.' + +The younger man stood for a moment in hesitancy, his cheeks aflame, his +eyes fiercely gleaming. + +'As you will,' he exclaimed, mastering himself. 'When the others are +here, you will learn all that it concerns you to know. Remember, +Gordian, that I would have opened my heart to you, for, whatever I +said, I know well that you are no betrayer. As for that woman--' + +He was interrupted by the arrival of several persons, old and young, +who appeared in answer to his summons. Having received them with colder +courtesy than was natural to him, Basil produced the testament of +Maximus, and submitted it to his kinsmen's inspection. The tablets +passed from hand to hand; the signatures and seals of the seven +witnesses were examined, the contents read and discussed. Meanwhile +guests continued to arrive, until a considerable gathering, which +included several ladies, had assembled in the great hall. Here was +represented all that deemed itself best and most illustrious in the +society of Rome. More came than were expressly invited; for, beyond the +legitimate interest of the occasion, curiosity had been aroused by the +gossip of Petronilla, and some whose connection with the Anician house +was of the very slightest, hastened to present themselves at Basil's +door. Hither came men whose names recalled the glories of the Republic; +others who were addressed by appellations which told of Greek dominion; +alike they claimed the dignity of Roman optimates, and deemed +themselves ornaments of an empire which would endure as long as the +world. Several ranked as senators; two or three were ex-consuls; ten +years ago the last consul of Rome had laid down his shadowy honours; +one had held the office of Praetorian Prefect when Theodoric was king; +yet, from the political point of view, all were now as powerless as +their own slaves. Wealth a few of them still possessed, but with no +security; a rapacious Byzantine official, the accident of war, might at +any moment strip them of all they had. For the most part they had +already sunk to poverty, if not to indigence; among these aristocratic +faces were more than one which bore the mark of privation. Those who +had little means or none lived as parasites of more fortunate +relatives; though beggars, they housed in palaces--palaces, it is true, +which had often no more comfort within their marble walls than the +insulae where the ignoble laid their heads. + +When all had perused the will, Basil rose up and addressed them. He +began by a seemingly careless allusion to the tattle about himself, +which, as it appeared, had been started in Rome by some one who wished +him ill. The serious matter of which he had to speak regarded the +daughter of Maximus. No one here, of course, would be inclined to take +up the defence of Aurelia, whose history was known to all, he would +merely make known to them that after having abjured her religious +errors, and when living quietly in the Surrentine villa, she had been +treacherously seized and carried off he knew not whither. It was not +difficult to surmise by whom this plot had been laid, but he would +leave that point for his hearers' discussion. Him it chiefly concerned +to make known the strange facts so far as he knew them; and this he +proceeded to do. Basil concluded with sarcastic reference to the +possibility that he, as heir, might be openly or secretly suspected of +having laid hands upon Aurelia; that point also he left to be debated +by such as thought it worth while. + +Only some two or three of those who listened had any personal interest +in the will, and few cared at all for the fate of Aurelia; but the lady +at whom Basil's innuendo pointed enjoyed no great favour, and her +absence from this family gathering made it possible to discuss with all +freedom the likelihood of her culpability. At Basil himself no +suspicion glanced, but the rumour of his marriage with a Goth had +excited much curiosity, hardly appeased by a whisper that Gordian +declared the story false. Having spoken all he thought fit to say, +Basil was going apart with the persons to whom legacies had been left, +he, as heir, being charged with the execution of the will, when Gordian +approached him, and begged for a word in private. + +'I would not have you think me unkind, dear Basil,' he said, in a +gentle voice. 'It was neither the place nor the moment to hear secrets +from you, and I am glad now that I refused to listen; but be assured +that I put faith in what you have declared to us.' + +'It is well, dear Gordian,' replied Basil frankly. + +'One word I will add,' continued the other. 'If you are troubled about +things of the world, if you lack counsel such as you think a friend +might give, delay not in coming to me. I should not speak thus +confidently did I speak of myself alone; but there is one ever at my +side, who with her wisdom--sometimes I think it divinely +bestowed--supplies the weakness of my own understanding. Guided by her, +I cannot counsel you amiss.' + +They parted with an embrace, and Basil turned to the business of the +moment. This occupied him until nearly mid-day. As he took leave of the +last of his guests, there entered Marcian; his coming surprised Basil, +for they had parted at early morning not to meet again before the +morrow. + +'I bring you an invitation,' said Marcian, in a careless tone, which +was not quite natural. 'It is to the Palatine, after dinner.' + +'To the Palatine? I am summoned by Bessas?' + +'In a friendly way. Have no anxiety. Petronilla has been examined this +morning, and, from what I can gather, she seems to have betrayed +herself. Bessas wore the smile which means that he has over-reached +somebody.' + +'Then we shall find her,' exclaimed Basil. + +'They will find her, I doubt not,' was the reply. + +The meal being ready, they sat down to eat together, but their appetite +was small. Decius, who had wearied himself this morning in finding +discreet answers to the questions with which he was privately assailed +by his kinsfolk, did not come to table. Having dined, Basil and his +friend set forth on foot, half a dozen servants walking behind them. +Midway in the descent of the Caelian, they were met by an odd +procession: a beautiful boy of some twelve years old, clad in yellow, +riding upon a small white ass with rich housings, and behind him three +slaves, dark-visaged men of the East, on mules of great size, +caparisoned with yellow cloth, to which hung innumerable tinkling +bells. At sight of Basil, the child drew rein; jumped down, and ran +forward with smiling demonstrations of respect. + +'What is it, Laetus?' asked Basil, with no welcome upon his sombre +countenance. 'I cannot talk with you now.' + +The boy, who had been sold into slavery from the far island of the +Angles, did but smatter the Roman tongue. With a few words to signify +that his message was important, he delivered a letter, and Basil, +turning aside impatiently, broke the seal. Upon the blank side of a +slip of papyrus cut from some old manuscript were written lines which +seemed to be in Greek, and proved to be Latin in Greek characters, a +foppery beginning to be used by the modish at Rome. + +'Heliodora to Basil. You are bidden to supper. Come if you will. If you +come not, I care not.' + +'Say that I gave you no reply,' were Basil's blunt words, as he walked +on past the ass and the mules. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +SEEKING + + +They passed beneath the walls of the amphitheatre and by Constantine's +triumphal arch. Like all the innumerable fountains of the city, the +Meta Sudans stood dry; around the base of the rayed colossus of Apollo, +goats were browsing. Thence they went along by the Temple of Venus and +Rome, its giant columns yet unshaken, its roof gleaming with gilded +bronze; and so under the Arch of Titus, when, with a sharp turn to the +left, they began the ascent of the Palatine. + +The vast buildings which covered the Imperial hill, though discoloured +by the lapse of ages and hung with ivy, had suffered little diminution +of their external majesty; time had made them venerable, but had not +shattered their walls. For two centuries and a half, they had stood all +but desolate, and within that time had thrice been sacked by +barbarians, yet something of the riches and art which made their +ancient glory was still discoverable in the countless halls and +chambers; statues, busts, mural paintings, triumphs of mosaic, pictured +hangings, had in many parts escaped the spoiler and survived ruin; +whilst everywhere appeared the magnificence of rare stones, the +splendours of royal architecture, the beauty of unsurpassed carving. +Though owls nested where empresses were wont to sleep, and nettles +pierced where the lord of the world feasted his courtiers, this was +still the Palace of those who styled themselves Ever August; each echo +seemed to repeat an immortal name, and in every gallery seemed to move +the shadows of a majestic presence. + +Belisarius had not resided here, preferring for his abode the palace of +the Pincian. His successor in the military government of Rome chose a +habitation on the deserted hill, in that portion of its complex +structures which had been raised by Vespasian and his sons. Thither the +two visitors were now directing their steps. Having passed a gateway, +where Marcian answered with a watchword the challenge of the guard, +they ascended a broad flight of stairs, and stood before an entrance +flanked with two great pillars of Numidian marble, toned by time to a +hue of richest orange. Here stood soldiers, to whom again the password +was given. Entering, they beheld a great hall, surrounded by a +colonnade of the Corinthian order, whereon had been lavished exquisite +carving; in niches behind the columns stood statues in basalt, thrice +the size of life, representing Roman emperors, and at the far end was a +tribune with a marble throne. This, once the hall of audience, at +present served as a sort of antechamber; here and there loitered a +little group of citizens, some of whom had been waiting since early +morning for speech with the commander; in one corner, soldiers played +at dice, in another a notary was writing at a table before which stood +two ecclesiastics. Voices and footsteps made a faint, confused +reverberation under the immense vault. + +Anxiously glancing about him, Basil followed his conductor across the +hall and out into a peristyle, its pavement richly tesselated, and the +portico, still elaborately adorned with work in metal and in marble, +giving proof of still greater magnificence in bygone time; pedestals +had lost their statues, and blank spaces on the wall told of precious +panelling torn off. Beyond, they came to a curtained doorway, where +they were detained for some moments by the sentry; then the curtain was +drawn aside, and Basil found himself in the triclinium of the Flavian +palace, now used by the Greek general as his public reception room. Its +size was not much less than that of the hall of audience; its +decoration in the same grandiose style. Enormous pillars of granite +supported the roof; statues stood, or had stood, all around; the +pavement, composed of serpentine, porphyry, and Numidian marble in many +hues, was a superb work of art. But Basil saw only the human figures +before him. In a chair covered with furs sat a man of middle age, +robust, fair-complexioned, with a keen look in his pale blue eyes and +something of the wolfish about his mouth. Bessas had long ago given +proof of valour, and enjoyed repute as a general, but since his holding +command in Rome, his vices, chief of which was avarice, showed much +more prominently than the virtues which had advanced him; he used the +Imperial authority chiefly to enrich himself, in this respect, it is +true, merely acting in harmony with the Emperor's representative at +Ravenna, and with: the other Greek generals scattered about Italy, but +exhibiting in his methods a shrewdness and an inhumanity not easily +rivalled. Behind his chair stood several subordinates, and on a stool +before him sat a noble recently arrived as envoy from Byzantium. + +Having been previously instructed as to his behaviour in this +redoubtable presence, Basil followed the example of Marcian in +approaching with bent head to within a distance of three paces, then +dropping to his knees, and bowing so as almost to touch the ground with +his forehead. He heard a gruff voice command him to rise. + +'So this is the heir of the Senator Maximus,' said Bessas, much as he +might have spoken of viewing a horse that interested him. 'What is his +name?' + +'Basilius, my lord,' replied Marcian, with grave respect. + +'And what is he doing? Why does not a limber lad like that serve the +Emperor?' + +'Your Magnanimity will recollect that the lord Basil had permission to +attend Maximus into Campania, whence he is but now returned.' + +'Can't he speak for himself?' growled Bessas, turning sharply upon +Marcian. 'You have a tongue, lord Basil? Do you only use it among the +wenches?' + +A subdued laugh sounded behind the commander's chair. The envoy from +Byzantium showed more discreet appreciation of the jest. And Basil, his +head bowed, would fain have concealed a face burning with angry shame. + +'I will do my best,' he replied in a steady voice, 'to answer any +question your excellence may put to me.' + +'Come, that's better,' said the general, with that affectation of bluff +good-nature which always veiled his designs. 'I like the look of you, +my good Basil; who knows but we may be friends? By the bye, was there +not some special reason for your coming to see me?' + +'Your excellence summoned me.' + +'Yes, yes, I remember. That affair of the Gothic wench.' Bessas checked +himself, glanced at the envoy, and corrected his phrase. 'The Gothic +lady, I would say, who has somehow been spirited out of sight. What can +you tell us of her, lord Basil? It has been whispered to me that if you +cannot lead us to this beauty's hiding-place, nobody can.' + +Basil answered in the only way consistent with prudence: he not only +denied all knowledge of where Veranilda was to be found, but spoke as +though her fate had little or no interest for him, whereas he professed +himself greatly troubled by the disappearance of his cousin Aurelia. It +seemed that Petronilla did not purpose delivering Veranilda to the +Greeks. Perhaps she did not yet understand the import of their inquiry. +That it was she who held Veranilda prisoner he had less doubt than +ever, and boldly he declared his conviction. But even, whilst speaking, +he thought with dread of the possibility of Veranilda's being delivered +to Bessas; for who could assure him that this sinister-looking Thracian +would respect the mandate received from Byzantium? On the other hand, +who could say to what sufferings and perils his beloved was exposed +whilst Petronilla's captive? He preferred the risks to follow upon her +surrender. Did he but know where she was there would at least be a hope +of rescuing her. + +'By Christ!' exclaimed Bessas, when he had listened intently to all +Basil's replies, 'this is a strange business. I begin to think, +excellent lord Basil, that you are as much deceived in your suspicions +of the lady Petronilla as she is in her suspicions of you. These two +wenches--ladies, I would say--may have reasons of their own for hiding; +or somebody of whom you know nothing may have carried them off. How is +this Aurelia to look upon? Young and comely, I warrant.' + +Basil briefly described his cousin; whereupon the listener gave a shrug. + +'We will talk of it again, to-morrow or the day after. Hold yourself in +readiness, lord Basil--you hear?--to come when bidden. And, hark you, +bring the senator's will, that I may look it over myself. Trust me, I +will see that this lady Aurelia suffers no wrong; if necessary, I will +myself hold her property in trust. They tell me she is a heretic--that +must be inquired into. But take no thought for the matter, my good +Basil; trust me, you shall be relieved from all responsibilities. Go in +peace!' + +Bessas rose, impatient to have done with business. In the little +hippodrome, hard by, an entertainment had been prepared for this +afternoon: female equestrians were to perform perilous feats; there was +to be a fight between a man and a boar; with other trifles, such as +served to pass the time till dinner. In the entrance hall waited +messengers from Ravenna, who for hours had urgently requested audience; +but, partly because he knew that their despatches would be +disagreeable, in part because he liked playing at royalty, the +commander put them off till to-morrow. Even so did he postpone an +inspection of a certain part of the city wall, repeatedly suggested to +him by one of his subordinates. Leisure and accumulation of wealth were +obscuring the man's soldierly qualities. He gave little heed to the +progress of the war, and scoffed at the fear that Totila might ere long +march against Rome. + +Basil walked in gloomy silence. The interview had inflamed his pride. +Mentally he repeated the oath never to acquiesce in this Byzantine +tyranny, and he burned for the opportunity of open war against it. When +they were at a safe distance from the Palatine, Marcian warned his +friend against the Greek's indulgent manner; let him not suppose that +Bessas spoke one word sincerely. + +'His aim at present, I see, is to put you off your guard; and doubtless +he is playing the like game with Petronilla. You will be spied upon, +day and night--I myself, you understand, being one of the spies, but +only one, unfortunately. This Thracian is not so easy to deal with as +the Hun at Cumae. There have been moments when I thought he suspected +me. If ever I vanish, Basil--' + +He ceased with a significant look. + +'Why does Totila delay?' exclaimed Basil, with a passionate gesture. + +'He delays not. It is wisdom to conquer Campania before coming hither. +Another month will see him before Neapolis.' + +'Could I but find Veranilda, make her my own, and put her in safety, I +would go straight to the king's camp, and serve him as best I might.' + +Marcian looked steadily at the speaker, smiling strangely. + +'Why do you look at me so?' cried Basil. 'You doubt me? You distrust my +courage?' + +'Not for a moment. But why should this depend upon the finding of +Veranilda, my best Basil? Having found her, having made her your own, +will it be easier than now to take your chance of death or of +captivity? When was a Roman wont to let his country's good wait upon +his amorous desire?' + +They were on the Sacred Way, between the Basilica of Constantine and +the Atrium of Vesta. Struck to the heart by his friend's words, words +such as Marcian had never yet addressed to him, Basil stood mute and +let his eyes wander: he gazed at the Forum, at the temples beyond it, +at the Capitol with its desecrated sanctuary of Jupiter towering above. +Here, where the citizens once thronged about their business and their +pleasure, only a few idlers were in view, a few peasants with carts, +and a drove of bullocks just come in from the country. + +'You would have me forget her?' he said at length, in a voice +distressfully subdued. + +'I spoke only as I thought.' + +'And your thought condemned me--despised me, Marcian?' + +'Not so. Pitied you rather, as one whose noble nature has fallen into +trammels. Have you not long known, O Basil, how I think of the thing +called love?' + +'Because you have never known it!' exclaimed Basil. 'My love is my +life. Having lost Veranilda, I have lost myself; without her I can do +nothing. Were she dead I could fling myself into the struggle with our +enemies, all the fiercer because I should care not whether I lived or +died; but to lose her thus, to know that she may be in Rome, longing +for me as I for her--to think that we may never hold each other's hands +again--oh, it tears my heart, and makes me weak as a child. You cannot +understand me; you have never loved!' + +'May such knowledge be far from me!' said Marcian, with unwonted +vehemence. 'Do you feel no shame in being so subdued to the flesh?' + +'Shame? Shame in the thought that I love Veranilda?' + +Marcian seemed to make an effort to control a passion that wrought in +him; he was paler than of wont, and, instead of the familiar irony, a +cold, if not cruel, austerity appeared in his eyes and on his lips. He +shunned Basil's astonished gaze. + +'Let us not speak of this,' broke from him impatiently. 'You understand +me as little as I you. Forgive me, Basil--I have been talking idly--I +scarce know what I said. It is sometimes thus with me. Something takes +hold upon me, and I speak at random. Come, come, dear friend of my +heart, we will find your Veranilda; trust me, we will.' + +Three days went by, then Basil was summoned again to the Palatine, +where he had an interview with Bessas alone. This time the commander +hardly spoke of Veranilda; his talk was of the possessions left by +Maximus, whose testament, when he had read it, he said that he would +take care of until the lost daughter was discovered; he inquired +closely, too, as to Basil's own wealth, and let fall a remark that the +Roman nobles would soon be called upon to support the army fighting for +their liberties against the barbarians. When next called, let Basil +have ready and bring with him an exact statement of the money in his +hands, and of the income he expected to derive from his property during +the present year. Thereupon he was dismissed with a nod and a smile, +which made him quiver in rage for an hour after. This happened in early +morning. The day was overcast, and a cold wind blew from the mountains; +Basil had never known such misery as fell upon him when he re-entered +his gloomy, silent house. On the way home he had passed two +funerals--their hurried aspect proving that the dead were victims of +the plague, that _lues inguinaria_ which had broken out in Italy two +years ago, and with varying intensity continued throughout the land. +Throwing himself down upon a couch, he moaned in utter wretchedness, +fearful of the pestilence, yet saying to himself that he cared not if +it seized upon him. His moans became sobs; he wept for a long time, +then lay, half soothed by the burst of hysterical passion, with eyes +turned blankly to the ceiling and a hand clenched upon his breast. + +In his solitude he often talked with Felix, and more intimately perhaps +than with either Decius or Marcian. This trusty servant held +communication with a man in the household of Petronilla, and from him +learnt what he could as to the lady's movements; but nothing was as yet +discoverable which threw light on the mystery of Aurelia and Veranilda. +To-day, however, Felix returned from the other side of the Tiber with +what sounded like important news. Petronilla had left home this morning +in her carriage, had gone forth from the city by one of the southern +gates, and, after an absence of two or three hours, had returned, +bringing with her some one, a woman, whom she took into her house and +kept there in privacy. He who related this to Felix declared that his +mistress had only visited the church of her patron saint on the Via +Ardeatina, but who the woman might be that she had brought back with +her, he did not pretend to know. This story so excited Basil that he +would have hastened forthwith across the Tiber, had not Felix persuaded +him that at this late hour nothing could be done. After a sleepless +night he set out at sunrise, accompanied by Felix alone. Whether he +would be admitted at Petronilla's door was quite uncertain; in any +case, it would serve no purpose to go thither with a band of +attendants, for the Anician house was sure to be strongly guarded. All +he could do was to present himself in the hope of seeing Petronilla, +and take his chance of learning something from her when they stood face +to face. + +On horseback he went down by the Clivus Scauri, followed the road +between the Circus Maximus and the Aventine, crossed the river by the +Aemilian bridge (the nearer bridge of Probus was falling into ruins), +and then turned to the left. This part of the transtiberine district +was inhabited by poor folk. Something unusual seemed to have happened +among them just now: groups stood about in eager talk, and a little +further on, in front of a church, a noisy crowd was assembled, with +soldiers among them. Having made inquiry, Felix explained the +disturbance to his master. It was due to the rapacity of the Greek +commander, who, scorning no gain, however small, was seizing upon the +funds of the trade guilds; this morning the common chest of the potters +had been pillaged, not without resistance, which resulted in the death +of a soldier; the slayer had fled to St. Cecilia's church, and taken +sanctuary. Basil's feeling, as he listened, was one of renewed +bitterness against the Greeks; but to the potters themselves he gave +little thought, such folk and their wrongs appearing of small moment to +one of his birth. + +Pursuing the road towards the Portuensian Gate, he was soon in sight of +the palace where for generations had dwelt the heads of the Anician +family. It lay on a gentle slope above the river, at the foot of the +Janiculan Hill; around it spread public porticoes, much decayed, and +what had once been ornamental gardens, now the pasture of goats. As +Basil had expected, he was kept waiting without the doors until the +porter had received orders regarding him. Permitted at length to enter, +he passed by a number of slaves who stood, as if on guard, in the +atrium, and, though seeming to be alone in the room beyond, he heard +subdued voices from behind the curtains of the doorways, which told him +that he was under observation. All parts of this great house were +perfectly familiar to him, and had it been possible to conduct a +search, he would soon have ascertained whether she he sought was kept +imprisoned here; but, unless he took the place by storm, how could he +hope to make any discovery? Whilst he was impatiently reflecting, +Petronilla entered. She moved towards him with her wonted dignity of +mien, but in the look with which she examined him, as she paused at two +paces' distance, it was easy to perceive distrust, and a certain +inquietude. + +'Your leisure at length permits you to visit me, dear lord Basil,' she +began coldly. + +'My leisure, indeed,' he replied, 'has not been great since the day on +which you left Surrentum. But the more plainly we speak to each other +the better. I come now to ask whether you will release Veranilda to me, +instead of waiting until you are compelled to release her to the +Greeks.' + +Before replying, Petronilla clapped her hands, then stood waiting for a +moment, and said at length: + +'You can now speak without hearers. I did not think you would be so +imprudent in your words. Go on: say what you will.' + +She seated herself, and looked at Basil with a contemptuous smile. He, +surprised by her behaviour, spoke on with angry carelessness. + +'I neither cared before, nor do I now, if any of your servants overhear +me. No more credit would be given to anything they told of me than is +given to what you yourself say I might begin by warning you of the +dangers to which you are exposed, but no doubt you have calculated +them, and think the price not too much to pay for your revenge. Well, +with your revenge I have no wish to interfere. Hold Aurelia prisoner as +long as you will, or as long as you can. I speak only of Veranilda, +against whom you can feel no enmity. Will you release her to me? It +will only be anticipating by a few days her release to Bessas. +Veranilda in his hands, trust me, he will care little what becomes of +Aurelia.' + +'I listen to you,' replied Petronilla, 'because I am curious to learn +into what extravagances your ignoble passion drives you. I had been +told, but could hardly believe, that you charged me with having seized +these women. Now I see that you really are foolish enough to think it.' +She threw her head back in a silent laugh of scorn. 'Child--for you are +a child in wit though man in years--do you not live at large in Rome, +free to come and go as you will?' + +'What of that?' + +'Am not I also a free woman? Did I not yesterday visit the church of +the blessed Petronilla, and might I not, if so I had willed, have +escaped instead of returning to the city?' + +'What has this to do with the matter?' demanded Basil. + +'Child! child!' cried the other, as if with boundless contempt. 'You +ask that, knowing why this Veranilda is sought by the Greeks? Were they +truly still in search of her, and were you, were I, suspected of +keeping her hidden, do you suppose we should be free, and not rather +locked as close as any prison in Rome could hold us?' + +The listener stood mute. So vehement was Petronilla's speech, and so +convincing, thus delivered, seemed her argument, that Basil felt his +heart sink. Had she, then, outwitted him? Was he really playing the +part of a simpleton, at whom people laughed? He remembered the seeming +indifference of Bessas touching Veranilda at the second interview, +natural enough if the maiden had already passed into the Greek's hands. +Two days ago Marcian had told him that Petronilla must needs be aware +of Veranilda's importance, seeing that it was now common knowledge in +Roman society. But a thought flashed into his mind, and he lifted up +his head again. + +'This is not true!' he exclaimed. 'If Bessas had found her, I should +have known it.' + +'Pray, how? Does your foolish little lordship imagine that Bessas must +needs have told you all he has done?' + +'Bessas? no,' he answered, his eyes burning with hatred as they +searched her face. 'But I have other means of learning the truth. You +try vainly to deceive me.' + +'As you will, good nephew,' said the lady, as if indulgently. 'Believe +as you list, and talk on, for you entertain me.' + +'One thing I have to say,' pursued Basil, 'which you will perhaps find +less amusing.' He had lost control of himself, and spoke in a low tone +of fierce menace, all his body quivering. 'If I learn that Veranilda is +in the hands of the Greeks, and that _you_ delivered her to them--by +the God above us, your life shall pay for it.' + +Petronilla's face hardened till its cruel sternness outdid any +expression of hatred possible to Basil's features. + +'Keep your ruffian threats for more suitable occasion, such as you will +find among your friends the Goths.' She spoke coldly and deliberately. +'If enslavement to a yellow-haired barbarian had not muddled your wits, +you would long ago have seen who it was that has played you false.' + +Basil stared at her, his passion chilled with surprise and alarm. + +'Played me false!' he echoed involuntarily. + +'Who is it,' continued Petronilla with slow scorn, 'that you have +trusted blindly? To whom have you looked for guidance and protection? +Who has fostered your suspicion against _me_?' + +An intolerable pang went through the listener's heart. + +'That's but another lie!' he exclaimed furiously. 'O basest of women +born!' + +A hand was upon his dagger. Petronilla rose and stepped back a little, +glancing towards one of the drawn curtains. + +'You have threatened my life,' she said in an undertone. 'Remember that +it is you who are in my power. If I raise my voice on one word, the +next moment you will lie pierced by a score of weapons. Moderate your +insults: my temper is not meek.' + +Basil thought for a moment with painful intentness. + +'Speak plainly,' he said at length. 'You would have me suspect--? I am +ashamed to utter the name.' + +'Keep it to yourself and muse upon it.' + +'You dare bid me think that he, my dearest and most loyal friend, has +infamously betrayed me? Now I know indeed that you have lied to me in +every word, for this is the last audacity of baseness. You hope to +poison my soul against him, and so, whilst guarding yourself, bring +more evil upon those you hate. But you have overreached yourself. Only +cunning driven desperate could have devised this trick. Listen to me +again, before it is too late. Give me Veranilda. I take upon myself all +the peril. It shall be made to appear that I have all along kept her in +hiding, and that you knew nothing of her. Be advised before the worst +comes upon you. I will escape with her to a place of safety that I know +of; _you_ will be declared innocent, and no one will care to ask what +has become of Aurelia. Think well; you spoke of prisons, but the Greeks +have worse than imprisonment for those who incur their wrath. Will +Bessas forego revenge when, after much trouble, he has wrested the +captive from your hands? Think!' + +Petronilla's countenance, fixed as a face in marble, still suggested no +thought save one of scorn; but there was a brief silence before she +replied. + +'I would not have believed,' she said calmly, 'that a man could be so +besotted with foolish passions. Listen, you in turn. Where those women +are, I know as little as do you yourself. I think, and have good reason +for thinking, that the Goth is already on her way to Constantinople, +but I have no certainty of it. The one thing I do surely know, is that +you are hoodwinked and baffled by the man you trust.' + +A groan of rage and anguish broke from Basil. He wrung his bands +together. + +'You lie! A thousand times you lie! Either Veranilda or Aurelia is in +this house. Who was it you brought back with you yesterday when you +returned from beyond the walls?' + +The listener uttered a short, fierce laugh. + +'So that is what brought you here? O fool! Think you I should have no +more wisdom than that? Since you must needs pry into my doings +yesterday, you shall hear them. I went to the church of the holy +Petronilla, to pray there against all the dangers that environ +me--against the wiles of the wicked, the cruelty of violent men, the +sickness which is rife about us. And when I rose from before the altar, +the servant of God who passes his life there, who is pleased to regard +me with kindness, led me apart into the sacristy, where sat a woman who +had lost her sight. She had travelled, he told me, from Mediolanum, +because of a vision in which she had been bidden to seek the tomb of +the daughter of the chief Apostle; and, whilst praying in the church, +her darkness had been illumined by a vision of the saint herself, who +bade her go into the city, and abide in the house of the first who +offered her welcome, and there at length she would surely receive her +sight. So I spoke with the woman, who, though in poverty, is of noble +blood, and when I had offered to make her welcome, she gladly came with +me, and straightway we returned to Rome. And I brought with me oil from +the lamp of the saint, wherewith, at the hours of prayer, I cross my +forehead, that no evil may befall me. So, you have heard. Believe or +not, as you list, O Basil.' + +Whether true or not, Basil had no choice but to accept the story. He +looked helplessly about him. If by killing this woman he could have +obtained liberty to search through every chamber of the great house, +his dagger would have leapt at her breast; and that Petronilla well +knew; whence the defiant look in her eyes as they watched his slightest +movement. + +'What is your next question?' she said. 'I am at leisure for a little +longer.' + +'If Veranilda is in the hands of the Greeks, where is Aurelia?' + +'I should be glad to think,' replied the lady, 'that she has withdrawn +from the world to expiate her sins.' + +'Would you have me believe that Marcian knows that secret also?' + +'I respect your innocence,' answered Petronilla, with a smile, 'and +will say no more.' + +Again Basil stood for a moment voiceless in wrath. Then he threw up an +arm, and spoke with terrible vehemence. + +'Woman, if you have lied to me, wickedly seeking to put enmity between +me and my friend, may the pest smite you, and may you perish unforgiven +of man and God!' + +Petronilla blanched not. For one instant he glared at her, and was gone. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +HELIODORA + + +Marcian's abode was in the Via Lata, the thoroughfare which ran +straight and broad, directly northwards, from the Capitoline Hill to +the Flaminian Gate. Hard by were the headquarters of the city watch, a +vast building, now tenanted by a few functionaries whose authority had +fallen into contempt; and that long colonnade of Hadrian, called the +Septa, where merchants once exposed their jewels and fabrics to the +crowd of sauntering wealthy, and where nowadays a few vendors of slaves +did their business amid the crumbling columns. Surrounded by these +monuments of antiquity, the few private residences still inhabited had +a dreary, if not a mean, aspect. Some of them--and Marcian's dwelling +was one--had been built in latter times with material taken from temple +or portico or palace in ruins; thus they combined richness of detail +with insignificant or clumsy architecture. An earthquake of a few years +ago, followed by a great inundation of the Tiber, had wrought disaster +among these modern structures. A pillar of Marcian's porch, broken into +three pieces, had ever since been lying before the house, and a marble +frieze, superb carving of the Antonine age, which ran across the +facade, showed gaps where pieces had been shattered away. + +His family, active in public services under Theodoric, had suffered +great losses in the early years of the war; and Marcian, who, as a very +young man, held a post under the Praetorian Prefect at Ravenna, found +himself reduced to narrow circumstances. After the fall of Ravenna, he +came to Rome (accompanied on the journey by Basil, with whom his +intimacy then began), and ere long, necessity driving him to expedients +for which he had no natural inclination, he entered upon that life of +double treachery which he had avowed to his friend. As the world went, +Marcian was an honest man: he kept before him an ideal of personal +rectitude; he believed himself, and hitherto with reason, incapable of +falsity to those who trusted him in the relations of private life. +Moreover, he had a sense of religion, which at times, taking the form +of an overpowering sense of sin, plunged him into gloom. Though +burdened in conscience with no crime, he was subject in a notable +degree to that malady of his world, the disposition to regard all human +kind, and himself especially, as impure, depraved. Often at the mercy +of his passions, he refrained from marriage chiefly on this very +account, the married state seeming to him a mere compromise with the +evil of the flesh; but in his house were two children, born to him by a +slave now dead, and these he would already have sent into a monastery, +but that human affection struggled against what he deemed duty. The man +lived in dread of eternal judgment; he could not look at a setting sun +without having his thought turned to the fires of hell, and a night of +wakefulness, common enough in his imperfect health, shook him with +horrors unutterable. Being of such mind and temper, it was strange that +he had not long ago joined the multitude of those who day by day fled +from worldly life into ascetic seclusion; what withheld him was a spark +of the ancestral spirit, some drops of the old Roman blood, prompting +his human nature to assert and justify itself. Hence the sympathy +between him and Basil, both being capable of patriotism, and feeling a +desire in the depths of their hearts to live as they would have lived +had they been born in an earlier time. But whereas Basil nursed this +disposition, regarding it as altogether laudable, Marcian could only +see in it an outcome of original sin, and after every indulgence of +such mundane thoughts did penance as for something worse than weakness. +His father had died in an anguish of compunction for a life stained +with sensuality; his mother had killed herself by excessive rigours of +penitence; these examples were ever before his mind. Yet he seldom +spoke, save to spiritual counsellors, of this haunting trouble, and +only the bitterness of envy, an envy entirely human, had drawn from him +the words which so astonished Basil in their last conversation. Indeed, +the loves of Basil and Veranilda made a tumult in his soul; at times it +seemed to him that he hated his friend, so intolerable was the jealousy +that racked him. Veranilda he had never seen, but the lover's rapture +had created in his imagination a face and form of matchless beauty +which he could not cease from worshipping. He took this for a +persecution of the fiend, and strove against it by all methods known to +him. About his body he wore things that tortured; he fasted to the +point of exhaustion; he slept--if sleep came to him--on a bare stone +floor; some hours of each day he spent in visiting churches, where he +prayed ardently. + +Basil, when he had rushed forth from the Anicianum, rode straightway to +the Via Lata, and presented himself at Marcian's door. The porter said +that his master had been absent since dawn, but Basil none the less +entered, and, in the room where he and his friend were wont to talk, +threw himself upon a couch to wait. He lay sunk in the most sombre +thoughts, until at the door appeared Sagaris, who with the wonted suave +servility, begged permission to speak to him. + +'Speak on,' said Basil gloomily, fixing his eyes upon the oriental +visage, so little reassuring to one harassed by suspicions. + +'It is regarding my dear lord, Illustrious, that I would say a humble +word, if your nobility will bear with me.' + +'What can that be?' + +'I am guilty, I know, of much presumption, but I entreat your +nobility's patience, for in truth it is only my love and my fears that +embolden me to speak. What I would make known to you, Illustrious, is +that for more than two whole days my dear lord has not broken bread. +Since our return to Rome he has fasted all but continuously, at the +same time inflicting upon himself many other penances of the severest +kind. For this, I well know, he will have his reward in the eternal +life; but when I note his aspect, I am overcome with fear lest we +should lose him too soon. This morning, when I was helping him to +dress, he sank down, and lay for a time as one dead. My lord would +rebuke me severely if he knew that I had ventured to speak of these +things; but with you, Illustrious, I feel that I am in no danger. You +will understand me, and pardon me.' + +Basil had raised himself to a sitting position. Supporting himself on +one hand, he stared straight before him, and only spoke when a movement +on the part of the servant betrayed impatience. + +'This has gone on, you say, since your return to Rome? Was it your +lord's habit to do such penance on his travels?' + +'Never in this extreme, though I have always marvelled at his piety.' + +Again Basil kept a long silence. + +'You have done well to tell me,' he said at length; then, with a wave +of the hand, dismissed the Syrian. + +It was nearly mid-day when Marcian returned. At the sight of Basil his +pale, weary countenance assumed a troubled smile. He embraced his +friend, kissing him affectionately on both cheeks, and sat down by him +with a sigh of fatigue. + +'What makes you so wan?' asked Basil, peering into his eyes. + +'I sleep ill.' + +'Why so? Is it pain or thought that keeps you wakeful?' + +'Both, perhaps,' answered Marcian. He paused, reflected gloomily, and +went on in a subdued voice. 'Do you think often, Basil, of the eternal +fire?' + +'Not often. Sometimes, of course.' + +'Last night I had a dream, which assuredly was a temptation of the evil +one. My father stood before me, and said, "Fear not, Marcian, for there +is no Gehenna. It is but the vision of man's tormented conscience." And +I awoke with a great joy. But at once the truth came upon me; and until +dawn I prayed for strength to resist that perilous solace. This morning +I have talked long with a holy man, opening my heart to him, that he +might finally resolve my doubts. I said to him: "Slaves who have +committed a fault are punished that they may amend. To what purpose is +the punishment of the wicked after death, since there can be no +amendment?" and he replied: "My son, the wicked are punished in Gehenna +that the just may feel gratitude to the divine grace which has +preserved them from such a doom." "But," I objected, "ought not the +just to pray for their enemies in such evil case?" His answer was +prompt: "The time for prayer is past. The blessed concur in the +judgment of God!"' + +Basil listened with bent head. + +'Maximus,' he said presently, 'often doubted of eternal torment; and my +cousin Decius has more than once confessed to me that he believes it +not at all, being strengthened therein by his friend the philosopher +Simplicius. I, O Marcian, would fain think it a dream--yet there are +evil doings in this world which make me fear that it may be true.' + +'You have seen Bessas again?' + +'Yes. And I have seen Petronilla.' + +His eyes on the listener, Basil recounted his conversation of this +morning, all save that part of it which related to Marcian. He could +detect no sign of guilty uneasiness in his friend's face, but saw that +Marcian grew very thoughtful. + +'Is not this a shamelessness in falsehood which passes belief?' were +his last words. + +'If indeed it be falsehood,' replied Marcian, meeting the other's eyes. +'I will confess that, this day or two, I have suspected Bessas of +knowing more than he pretends.' + +'What?' Basil exclaimed. 'You think Veranilda is really in his power?' + +Marcian answered with a return to the old irony. + +'I would not venture to set bounds to the hypocrisy and the mendacity +and the pertinacity of woman, but, after another conversation with +Petronilla, I am shaken in my belief that she still holds her +prisoners. She may, in truth, have surrendered them. What makes me +inclined to think it, is the fierceness with which she now turns on +_me_, accusing me of the whole plot from the first. That, look you, +would be sweet revenge to a woman defeated. Why,' he added, with a +piercing but kindly look, 'do you hide from me that she sought to +persuade you of my treachery? Is it, O Basil, because you feared lest +she spoke the truth?' + +Flushing under that honest gaze, Basil sprang up and seized his +friend's hand. Tears came into his eyes as he avowed the truth and +entreated pardon. + +'It was only because misery has made me all but mad. Nay, I _knew_ that +she lied, but I could not rest till I had the assurance of it from your +own lips. You think, then, dearest Marcian, that Veranilda is lost to +me for ever? You believe it is true that she is already on the way to +Constantinople?' + +Marcian hoped it with all his heart, for with the disappearance of +Veranilda this strange, evil jealousy of his would fade away; and he +had many reasons for thinking that the loss of his Gothic love would be +the best thing that could happen to Basil. At the same time, he felt +his friend's suffering, and could not bring himself to inflict another +wound. + +'If so,' he replied, 'the Greek has less confidence in me than I +thought, and I must take it as a warning. It may be. On the other hand, +there is the possibility that Petronilla's effrontery outwits us all. +Of course she has done her best to ruin both of us, and perhaps is +still trying to persuade Bessas that you keep Veranilda in hiding, +whilst I act as your accomplice. If this be the case, we shall both of +us know the smell of a prison before long, and perchance the taste of +torture. What say you? Shall we wait for that chance, or speed away +into Campania, and march with the king against Neapolis?' + +Though he smiled, there was no mistaking Marcian's earnestness. For the +moment he had shaken off his visions of Tartarus, and was his saner +self once more. + +'If I knew that she has gone!' cried Basil wretchedly. 'If I knew!' + +'So you take your chance?' + +'Listen! You speak of prison, of torture. Marcian, can you not help, me +to capture that woman, and to get from her the truth?' + +Basil's face grew terrible as he spoke. He quivered, his teeth ground +together. + +'I, too, have thought of it,' replied the other coldly. 'But it is +difficult and dangerous.' + +They talked yet awhile, until Marcian, who looked cadaverous, declared +his need of food, and they went to the mid-day meal. + +A few days went by. Basil was occupied with the business of his +inheritance. He had messengers to despatch to estates in Lucania and +Apulia. Then came news that a possession of Maximus' in the south had +been invaded and seized by a neighbour; for which outrage there was +little hope of legal remedy in the present state of affairs; only by +the strong hand could Basil vindicate his right. Trouble was caused him +by a dispute with one of the legatees, a poor kinsman who put an +unexpected interpretation upon the item of the will which concerned +him. Another poor kinsman, to whom Maximus had bequeathed a share in +certain property in Rome, wished to raise money on this security. Basil +himself could not lend the desired sum, for, though lord of great +estates, he found himself after Chorsoman's pillage of the strong room +at Surrentum, scarcely able to meet immediate claims upon him under the +will; but he consented to accompany his relative to a certain +moneychanger, of whom perchance a loan might be obtained. This man of +business, an Alexandrian, had his office on the Capitoline Hill, in +that open space between the Capitol and the Arx, where merchants were +still found; he sat in a shadowed corner of a portico, before him a +little table on which coins were displayed, and at his back a small +dark shop, whence came a confused odour of stuffs and spices. Long and +difficult were the negotiations. To Basil's surprise, the Alexandrian, +though treating him with the utmost respect, evidently gave little +weight to his guarantee in money matters; as to property in Rome, he +seemed to regard it as the most insubstantial of securities. Only on +gems and precious metals would he consent to lend a sum of any +importance. + +Whilst this debate was in progress, a litter, gaudy and luxurious, +borne by eight slaves clad in yellow, with others like them before and +behind, came to a stop close by, and from it alighted a lady whose +gorgeous costume matched the brilliance of her vehicle and retinue. She +was young and beautiful, with dark, oriental features, and a bearing +which aimed at supremity of arrogance. Having stepped down, she stood +at the edge of the portico, languidly gazing this way and that, with +the plain intention of exhibiting herself to the loiterers whom her +appearance drew together; at every slightest movement, the clink of +metal sounded from her neck, her arms, her ankles; stones glistened on +her brow and on her hands; about her she shed a perfume like that +wafted from the Arabian shore. + +The Greek merchant, as soon as he was aware of her arrival, ran forward +and stood obsequiously before her, until she deigned to notice him. + +'I would speak with you. See that we are private.' + +'Noble lady,' he replied, 'the lord Basilius, heir of the Senator +Maximus, is within. I will straightway beg him to defer his business.' + +The lady turned and gazed into the dusky shop. + +'He is not alone, I see.' + +'A kinsman is with him, noble lady.' + +'Then bid the kinsman go his way, and keep apart, you, until you are +summoned. I will speak for a moment with the lord Basilius.' + +The Alexandrian, masking a smile, drew near to Basil, and whispered +that the lady Heliodora demanded to see him alone. A gesture of +annoyance was the first reply, but, after an instant's reflection, +Basil begged his kinsman to withdraw. Heliodora then entered the shop, +which was nothing more than an open recess, with a stone counter half +across the entrance, and behind it a couple of wooden stools. Upon one +of these the lady seated herself, and Basil, who had greeted her only +with a movement of the head, stood waiting. + +'So you will not sup with me?' began Heliodora, in a voice of bantering +indifference. 'You will not come to see me? You will not write to me? +It is well. I care less than the clipping of a finger-nail.' + +'So I would have it,' Basil replied coldly. + +'Good. Then we are both satisfied. This is much better than making +pretence of what we don't feel, and playing a comedy with our two +selves for spectators. You amused me for a while; that is over; now you +amuse me in another way. Turn a little towards the light. Let me have a +look at your pretty face, Basilidion.' + +She spoke with a Greek accent, mingling now and then with the Roman +speech a Greek word or exclamation, and her voice, sonorous rather than +melodious, one moment seemed about to strike the note of anger, at +another seemed softening to tenderness. + +'With your leave,' said Basil, 'I will be gone. I have matters of some +importance to attend to.' + +'With your leave,' echoed Heliodora, 'I will detain you yet a little. +For you, Basilidion, there is only one matter of importance, and it may +be that I can serve you better therein than any you esteem your graver +friends. There, now, I see your face. Holy Mary I how wan and worn it +is. From my heart I pity you, Basilidion. Come now, tell me the story. +I have heard fifty versions, some credible, some plain fable. Confide +in me; who knows but I may help you.' + +'Scoff as you will,' was his answer. 'It is your privilege. But in +truth, lady, I have little time to waste.' + +'And in truth, lord, your courtesy has suffered since you began to peck +and pine for this little Hun.' + +'Hun?' + +'Oh, I cry pardon! Goth, I should have said. Indeed, there are degrees +of barbarism--but, as you will. I say again, I care not the clipping of +my smallest nail.' She held her hand towards him; very white it was, +and soft and shapely, but burdened with too many rings. 'Tell me all, +and I will help you. Tell me nothing, and have nothing for your pains.' + +'Help me?' exclaimed Basil, in scornful impatience. 'Am I such a fool +as to think you would wish to help me, even if you could?' + +'Listen to me, Basil.' She spoke in a deep note which was half +friendliness, half menace. 'I am not wont to have my requests refused. +Leave me thus, and you have one more enemy--an enemy more to be dreaded +than all the rest. Already I know something of this story, and I can +know the whole of it as soon as I will; but what I want now is to hear +the truth about your part in it. You have lost your little Goth; of +that I need no assurance. But tell me how it came about.' + +Basil stood with bent head. In the portico, at a little distance, there +began to sound the notes of a flute played by some itinerant musician. + +'You dare refuse me?' said Heliodora, after waiting a moment. 'You are +a bolder man than I thought.' + +'Ask what you wish to know,' broke from the other. 'Recount to you I +will not. Put questions, and I will reply if I think fit.' + +'Good.' + +Heliodora smiled, with a movement which made all her trappings of +precious metal jingle as though triumphantly. And she began to +question, tracking out all Basil's relations with Veranilda from their +first meeting at Cumae to the day of the maiden's disappearance. His +answers, forced from him partly by vague fear, partly by as vague a +hope, were the briefest possible, but in every case he told the truth. + +'It is well,' said Heliodora, when the interrogation was over. 'Poor, +poor Basilidion! How ill he has been used! And not even a kiss from the +little Goth. Or am I mistaken? Perhaps--' + +'Be silent!' exclaimed Basil harshly. + +'Oh, I will not pry into chaste secrets. For the present, enough. Go +your ways, Basil, and take courage. I keep faith, as you know; and that +I am disposed to be your friend is not your standing here, alive and +well, a sufficient proof?' + +She had risen, and, as she uttered these words, her eyes gleamed large +in the dusk. + +'When you wish to see me,' she added, 'come to my house. To you it is +always open. I may perchance send you a message. If so, pay heed to it.' + +Basil was turning away. + +'What! Not even the formal courtesy? Your manners have indeed declined, +my poor Basil.' + +With an abrupt, awkward movement, he took her half offered hand, and +touched the rings with his lips; then hastened away. + +On the edge of the cluster of idlers who were listening to the flute +player stood his needy kinsman. Basil spoke with him for a moment, +postponed their business, and, with a sign to the two slaves in +attendance, walked on. By the Clivus Argentarius he descended to the +Forum. In front of the Curia stood the state' carriage of the City +Prefect, for the Senate had been called together this morning to hear +read some decree newly arrived from Byzantium; and as Basil drew near +he saw the Prefect, with senators about him, come forth and descend the +steps. These dignitaries, who wore with but ill grace the ancient toga, +were evidently little pleased by what they had heard; they talked under +their breath together, many of them, no doubt, recalling sadly the +honour they were wont to receive from King Theodoric. As their +president drove away, Basil, gazing idly after the _carpentum_, felt +himself touched on the arm; he looked round and saw Decius, whose +panting breath declared his haste, whilst his countenance was eloquent +of ill. + +'I come from the Anicianum,' Decius whispered, 'and bring terrible +news. Petronilla lies dying of the pest.' + +Dazed as if under a violent blow, Basil stretched out his hand. It +touched the wall of the little temple of Janus, in the shadow of which +they were standing. + +'The pest?' he echoed faintly. + +'She was seized in the night. Some one in the house--some woman, they +tell me, whom she brought with her a few days ago, I know not +whence--is just dead. I have sped hither in search of any one with whom +I could speak of it; God be thanked that I have met you! I went to +fetch away books, as you know.' + +'I must go there,' said Basil, gazing about him to find his slaves. 'I +must go straightway.' + +'Why? The danger is great.' + +'It may be'--this was spoken into Decius' ear--'that Veranilda is +imprisoned there. I have proof now, awful proof, that Petronilla lied +to me. I must enter, and seek.' + +Hard by were litters for public hire. Bidding his slaves follow, Basil +had himself carried, fast as bearers could run, towards the Anicianum. +Not even fear of the pestilence could withhold him. His curse upon +Petronilla had been heard; the Almighty God had smitten her; would not +the same Power protect him? He prayed mentally, beseeching the +intercession of the Virgin, of the saints. He made a vow that, did he +recover Veranilda, he would not rest until he had won her conversion to +the Catholic faith. + +Without the Anicianum, nothing indicated disturbance, but as soon as he +had knocked at the door it was thrown wide open, and he saw, gathered +in the vestibule, a crowd of dismayed servants. Two or three of them, +whom he knew well, hurried forward, eager to speak. He learnt that +physicians were with the sick lady, and that the presbyter of St. +Cecilia, for whom she had sent in the early morning, remained by her +side. No member of the family (save Decius) had yet come, though +messages had been despatched to several. Unopposed, Basil entered the +atrium, and there spoke with Petronilla's confidential freedman. + +'Leo, your mistress is dying. Speak the truth to me, and you shall be +rewarded; refuse to answer, or lie to me, and I swear by the Cross that +you shall suffer. Who was the woman that died here yesterday?' + +The freedman answered without hesitation, telling the same story Basil +had already heard from Petronilla. + +'Good. She has been buried?' + +'She was carried out before dawn.' + +'Tell me now, upon your salvation, is any one kept prisoner here?' + +Leo, an elderly man, his eyes red with tears and his hands tremulous, +gazed meaningly at the questioner. + +'No one; no one,' he answered under his breath. 'I swear it to you, O +lord Basil.' + +'Come with me through the house.' + +'But Leo, moving nearer, begged that he might be heard and believed. He +understood the meaning of these inquiries, for he had been with his +mistress at Surrentum. They whom Basil sought were not here; all search +would be useless; in proof of this Leo offered the evidence of his +wife, who could reveal something of moment which she had learnt only a +few hours ago. The woman was called, and Basil spoke apart with her; he +learnt that Petronilla, as soon as her pains began, sent a messenger to +the deacon Leander, entreating him to come; but Leander had only +yesterday set out on a journey, and would not be back for a week or +more. Hearing this, the stricken lady fell into an anguish of mind +worse even than that of the body; she uttered words signifying +repentance for some ill-doing, and, after a while, said to those who +were beside her--a physician and the speaker--that, if she died, they +were to make known to Bessas that the deacon Leander, he and he alone, +could tell all. Having said this, Petronilla became for a time calmer; +but her sufferings increased, and suddenly she bade summon the +presbyter of St. Cecilia's church. With him she spoke alone, and for a +long time. Since, she had uttered no word touching worldly matters; the +woman believed that she was now unconscious. + +'And you swear to me,' said Basil, who quivered as he listened, 'that +this is the truth and all you know?' + +Leo's wife swore by everything sacred on earth, and by all the powers +of heaven, that she had falsified nothing, concealed nothing. Thereupon +Basil turned to go away. In the vestibule, the slaves knelt weeping +before him, some with entreaties to be permitted to leave this stricken +house, some imploring advice against the plague; men and women alike, +all were beside themselves with terror. In this moment there came a +knocking at the entrance; the porter ran to open, and admitted Gordian. +Basil and he, who had not met since the day of the family gathering, +spoke together in the portico. He had come, said Gordian, in the fear +that Petronilla had been forsaken by all her household, as sometimes +happened to those infected. Had it been so, he would have held it a +duty to approach her with what solace he could. As it was, physician +and priest and servants being here, he durst not risk harm to his own +family; but he would hold himself in readiness, if grave occasion +summoned him. So Gordian remounted his horse, and rode back home. + +Basil lingered. He no longer entertained the suspicion that Veranilda +might be here, but he thought that, could he speak with Petronilla +herself, penitence might prompt her to tell him where the captive lay +hidden. It surprised him not at all to hear Leander's name as that of +her confidant in the matter, though hitherto his thought had not turned +in that direction. Leander signified the Church, and what hope was +there that he could gain his end against such an opponent?--more +formidable than Bessas, more powerful, perhaps, than Justinian. Were +Veranilda imprisoned in some monastery, he might abandon hope of +beholding her again on this side of the grave. + +Yet it was something to know that she had not passed into the hands of +the Greeks; that she was not journeying to the Byzantine court, there +to be wedded against her will. Cheered by this, he felt an impulse of +daring; he would see Petronilla. + +'Leo! Lead me to the chamber.' + +The freedman besought him not to be so rash, but Basil was possessed +with furious resolve. He drove the servant before him, through the +atrium, into a long corridor. Suddenly the silence was broken by a +shriek of agony, so terrible that Basil felt his blood chilled to the +very heart. This cry came again, echoing fearfully through the halls +and galleries of this palace of marble. The servants had fled; Basil +dropped to his knees, crossed himself, prayed, the sweat standing upon +his forehead. A footstep approached him; he rose, and saw the physician +who had been with Maximus at Surrentum. + +'Does she still live?' he asked. + +'If life it can be called. What do you here, lord Basil?' + +'Can she hear and speak?' + +'I understand you,' replied the physician. 'But it is useless. She has +confessed to the priest, and will utter no word more. Look to yourself; +the air you breathe is deadly.' + +And Basil, weak as a child, suffered himself to be led away. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE SOUL OF ROME + + +The library in Basil's house was a spacious, graceful room, offering at +this day very much the same aspect as in the time of that ancestral +Anician, who, when Aurelian ruled, first laid rolls and codices upon +its shelves. Against the walls stood closed presses of wood, with +bronze panelling, on which were seen in relief the portraits of poets +and historians; from the key of each hung a strip of parchment, with a +catalogue of the works within. Between the presses, on pedestals of +dark green serpentine, ranged busts of the Greek philosophers: Zeno +with his brows knitted, Epicurus bland, Aratus gazing upward, +Heraclitus in tears, Democritus laughing. These were attributed to +ancient artists, and by all who still cared for such things were much +admired. In the middle stood a dancing faun in blood red marble, also +esteemed a precious work of art. Light entered by an arched window, +once glazed, now only barred with ornamental iron, too high in the wall +to allow of any view; below this, serving as table, was an old marble +sarcophagus carved with the Calydonian hunt. + +Here, one day of spring, Decius sat over his studies. Long ago he had +transferred hither all the books from the great house across the Tiber, +and had made his home on the Caelian. As he read or wrote a hard cough +frequently interrupted him. During the past half year his health had +grown worse, and he talked at times of returning to the Surrentine +villa, if perchance that sweeter air might soothe him, but in the +present state of things--Totila had just laid siege to Neapolis--the +removal did not seem feasible. Moreover, Decius loved Rome, and thought +painfully of dying elsewhere than within her walls. + +There was a footfall at the door, and Basil entered. He was carelessly +clad, walked with head bent, and had the look of one who spends his +life in wearisome idleness. Without speaking, however, he threw himself +upon a couch and lay staring with vacant eye at the bronze panels of +the vaulted ceiling. For some minutes silence continued; then Decius, a +roll in his hand, stepped to his kinsman's side and indicated with his +finger a passage of the manuscript. What Basil read might be rendered +thus: + +'I am hateful to myself. For though born to do something worthy of a +man, I am now not only incapable of action, but even of thought.' + +'Who says that?' he asked, too indolent to glance at the beginning of +the roll. + +'A certain Marcus Tullius, in one of his letters,' replied the other, +smiling, and returned to his own couch. + +Basil moved uneasily, sighed, and at length spoke in a serious tone. + +'I understand you, best Decius. You are right. Many a time I have used +to myself almost those very words. When I was young--how old I feel!--I +looked forward to a life full of achievements. I felt capable of great +things. But in our time, what can we do, we who are born Romans, yet +have never learnt to lead an army or to govern a state?' + +He let his arm fall despondently, and sank again into brooding silence. + +At root, Basil's was a healthy and vigorous nature. Sound of body, he +needed to put forth his physical energies, yet had never found more +scope for them than in the exercise of the gymnasium, or the fatigue of +travel; mentally well-balanced, he would have made an excellent +administrator, such as his line had furnished in profusion, but that +career was no longer open. Of Marcian's ascetic gloom he knew nothing: +not all the misery he had undergone in these last six months could so +warp his wholesome instincts. Owning himself, in the phrases he had +repeated from childhood, a miserable sinner, a vile clot of animated +dust, at heart he felt himself one with all the beautiful and joyous +things that the sun illumined. With pleasure and sympathy he looked +upon an ancient statue of god or hero; only a sense of duty turned his +eyes upon the images of Christian art. + +And this natural tendency was encouraged by his education, which, like +that of all well-born Romans, even in the sixth century after Christ, +had savoured much more of paganism than of Christianity. Like his +ancestors, before the age of Constantine, he had been taught grammar +and rhetoric; grammar which was supposed to include all sciences, +meaning practically a comment on a few classical texts, and rhetoric +presumed a preparation for the life of the Forum, having become an art +of declamation which had no reference to realities. Attempts had been +made--the last, only a few years ago, by Cassiodorus--to establish +Christian schools in Rome, but without success, so profoundly were the +ancient intellectual habits rooted in this degenerate people. The long +resistance to the new religion was at an end, but Romans, even while +confessing that the gods were demons, could not cast off their +affection for the mythology and history of their glorious time. Thus +Basil had spent his schooldays mostly in the practice of sophistic +argument, and the delivery of harangues on traditional subjects. Other +youths had shown greater aptitude for this kind of eloquence; he did +not often carry off a prize; but among his proud recollections was a +success he had achieved in the form of a rebuke to an impious +voluptuary who set up a statue of Diana in the room which beheld his +debauches. Here was the nemesis of a system of education which had +aimed solely at the practical, the useful; having always laboured to +produce the man perfectly equipped for public affairs, and nothing else +whatever. Rome found herself tottering with senile steps in the same +path when the Empire and the ancient world lay in ruins about her. +Basil was not studious. Long ago he had forgotten his 'grammatical' +learning--except, of course, a few important matters known to all +educated men, such as the fact that the alphabet was invented by +Mercury, who designed the letters from figures made in their flight by +the cranes of Strymon. Though so ardent a lover, he had composed no +lyric or elegy in Veranilda's honour; his last poetical effort was made +in his sixteenth year, when, to his own joy, and to the admiration of +his friends, he wrote a distich, the verses of which read the same +whether you began from the left hand or the right. Nowadays if he ever +opened a book it was some historian of antiquity. Livy, by choice, who +reminded him of his country's greatness, and reawakened in him the +desire to live a not inglorious life. + +Of his latter boyhood part had been spent at Ravenna, where his father +Probus, a friend as well as kinsman of the wise minister Cassiodorus, +now and then made a long sojourn; and he had thus become accustomed to +the society of the more cultivated Goths, especially of those who were +the intimates of the learned Queen Amalasuntha. Here, too, he learned a +certain liberality in religious matters; for it was Cassiodorus who, in +one of the rescripts given from the Gothic court, wrote those memorable +words: 'Religious faith we have no power to impose, seeing that no man +can be made to believe against his will.' Upon the murder of +Amalasuntha, when the base Theodahad ruled alone, and ruin lay before +the Gothic monarchy, Probus, despairing of Italy, following the example +of numerous Roman nobles, migrated to Byzantium. His wife being dead, +and his daughter having entered a convent, he was accompanied only by +Basil, then eighteen years of age. A new world thus opened before +Basil's mind; its brilliancy at first dazzled and delighted him, but +very soon he perceived the difference between a noble's life at Rome or +Ravenna under the mild rule of the Goths, and that led by so-called +Romans in the fear of Justinian and of Theodora. His father, +disappointed in hopes of preferment which had been held out to him, +gladly accepted a mission which would take him back to Italy: he was +one of the envoys sent to Belisarius during the siege of Ravenna, to +urge the conclusion of the Gothic war and command the return of the +Patricius as soon as might be for service against the Persians; and +with him came Basil. On the journey Probus fell ill; he was able to +cross the Adriatic, but no sooner touched Italian Soil than he breathed +his last. + +Then it was that Basil, representing his father in the Imperial +mission, came face to face with Belisarius, and conceived a boundless +enthusiasm for the great commander, whose personal qualities--the large +courtesy, the ready kindliness, the frequent laugh--made intimate +appeal to one of his disposition. He stayed in the camp before Ravenna +until the city surrendered, and no one listened with more ardent +approval to the suggestion which began as a whisper between Italians +and Goths that Belisarius should accept the purple of the Western +Empire. This, to be sure, would have been treachery, but treachery +against Justinian seemed a small thing to Basil, and a thing of no +moment at all when one thought of Rome as once more an Imperial city, +and Italy with such a ruler as the laurelled Patricius. Treachery the +general did commit, but not against Byzantium. Having made pretence of +accepting the crown which the Goths offered him, he entered into +Ravenna, took possession in Justinian's name, and presently sailed for +the East, carrying with him the King Vitiges and his wife Matasuntha, +grand-daughter of Theodoric. It was a bitter disappointment to Basil, +who had imagined for himself a brilliant career under the auspices of +the new Roman Emperor, and who now saw himself merely a conquered +Italian, set under the authority of Byzantine governors. He had no +temptation to remain in the North, for Cassiodorus was no longer here, +having withdrawn a twelvemonth ago to his own country by the Ionian +Sea, and there entered the monastery founded by himself; at Ravenna +ruled the logothete Alexandros, soon to win a surname from his +cleverness in coin-clipping. So Basil journeyed to Rome, where his +kinsfolk met him with news of deaths and miseries. The city was but +raising her head after the long agony of the Gothic siege. He entered +his silent home on the Caelian, and began a life of dispirited idleness. + +Vast was the change produced in the Roman's daily existence by the +destruction of the aqueducts. The Thermae being henceforth unsupplied +with water, those magnificent resorts of every class of citizen lost +their attraction, and soon ceased to be frequented; for all the Roman's +exercises and amusements were associated with the practice of luxurious +bathing, and without that refreshment the gymnasium, the tennis-court, +the lounge, no longer charmed as before. Rome became dependent upon +wells and the Tiber, wretched resource compared with the never-failing +and abundant streams which once poured through every region of the city +and threw up fountains in all but every street. Belisarius, as soon as +the Goths retreated, ordered the repairing of an aqueduct, that which +served the transtiberine district, and was indispensable to the working +of the Janiculan mills, where corn was ground; but, after his +departure, there was neither enough energy nor sufficient sense of +security in Rome for the restoration of even one of the greater +conduits. Nobles and populace alike lived without the bath, grew +accustomed to more or less uncleanliness, and in a certain quarter +suffered worse than inconvenience from the lack of good water. + +Formerly a young Roman of Basil's rank, occupied or not by any serious +pursuit, would have spent several hours of the day at one or other of +the Thermae still in use; if inclined to display, he would have gone +thither with a train of domestic attendants, and probably of parasites; +were the season hot, here he found coolness; were it cold, here he +warmed himself. Society never failed; opportunity for clandestine +meetings could always be found; all the business and the pleasure of a +day were regulated with reference to this immemorial habit. Now, to +enter the Thermae was to hear one's footsteps resound in a marble +wilderness; to have statues for companions and a sense of ruin for +one's solace. Basil, who thought more than the average Roman about +these changes, and who could not often amuse himself with such +spectacles as the theatres or the circus offered, grew something of a +solitary in his habits, and was supposed by those who did not know him +intimately, to pass most of his time in religious meditation, the +preface, perhaps, to retirement from the world. Indolence bringing its +wonted temptations, he fell into acquaintance with Heliodora, a +Neapolitan Greek of uncertain origin, whose husband that year held the +office of City Prefect. Acquaintance with Heliodora was, in his case, +sure to be a dangerous thing, and might well prove fatal, for many and +fierce were the jealousies excited by that brilliant lady, whose +husband alone regarded with equanimity her amorous adventures. Happily, +Basil did not take the matter very much to heart; he scarce pretended +to himself that he cared whether Heliodora was his for a day only or +for a month; and he had already turned his thoughts to the sweetness of +Aemiliana, that young sister of Gordian, whom, if he chose, he might +make his wife. + +Now again had sluggishness taken possession of him, and with it came +those promptings of the flesh which, but a few months ago, he easily +subdued, but which the lapse of time had once more made perilous. To +any who should have ventured to taunt him with forgetfulness of +Veranilda, he would have fiercely given the lie; and with reason, for +Veranilda's image was as vivid to him as on the day when he lost her, +and she alone of women had the power to excite his deepest and +tenderest emotions. Nevertheless, he had more than once of late visited +Heliodora, and though these visits were in appearance only such as he +might have paid to any lady of his acquaintance, Basil knew very well +whither they tended. As yet Heliodora affected a total forgetfulness of +the past; she talked of Veranilda, and confessed that her efforts to +make any discovery regarding the captive were still fruitless, though +she by no means gave up hope; therewithal, she treated Basil only half +seriously, with good-naturedly mocking smiles, as a mere boy, a disdain +to her mature womanhood. Of this was he thinking as he tossed on the +couch in the library; he had thought of it too much since leaving +Heliodora yesterday afternoon. It began to nettle him that his grief +should be for her merely an amusement. Never having seen the Gothic +maiden, whose beauty outshone hers as sunrise outdoes the lighting of a +candle, this wanton Greek was capable of despising him in good earnest, +and Basil had never been of those who sit easy under scorn. He felt +something chafe and grow hot within him, and recalled the days when he, +and not Heliodora, had indulged contempt--to his mind a much more +natural posture of affairs, The animal that is in every man had begun +to stir; it urged him to master and crush and tame this woman, whom, +indeed, he held rather in hate than in any semblance of love. Her +beauty, her sensuality, had power over him still; he resented such +danger of subjection, and encouraged himself in a barbarism of mood, +which permitted him to think that even in yielding he might find the +way of his revenge. + +There had been a long silence since his reply to the hint offered by +Decius. The student spoke again. + +'Basil, leave Rome.' + +'It is forbidden,' answered the other dully, his face averted. + +'Many things are forbidden which none the less are done. Did you learn +that Veranilda awaited you at Asculum, how long would it be before you +set forth?' + +'Not one hour, good Decius.' + +'Even so. You would pass the gates disguised as a peasant or as a +woman--no matter how. Will you do less to save all that makes life dear +to an honourable man? Be gone, be gone, I entreat you.' + +'Whither?' + +'To Picenum, which is not yet subject to the Goths. There gather your +capable men and arm them, and send to the King Totila, offering to +serve him where he will, and how he will. You know,' pursued Decius +earnestly, 'that I speak this something against my conscience, but, +alas! we can only choose between evils, and I think Totila is less of a +tyrant than Justinian. You will not go to Constantinople, nor would I +bid you, for there, assuredly, is nothing to be done worthy of a man; +but you must act, or you perish. For me, a weakling and a dreamer, +there is solace in the _vita umbratilis_; to you, it is naught. Arise, +then, O Basil, ere it be too late.' + +The listener rose from his recumbent attitude; he was stirred by this +unwonted vigour in Decius, but not yet did resolve appear on his +countenance. + +'Did I but know,' he murmured, 'that Veranilda is not in Rome!' + +Innumerable times had he said it; the thought alone held him inert. +Impossible to discover, spite of all his efforts, whether Veranilda had +been delivered to the Greeks, or still lay captive in some place known +to the deacon Leander. From the behaviour of Bessas nothing could be +certainly deduced: it was now a long time since he had sent for Basil, +and Marcian, though believing that the commander's search was still +futile, had no more certainty than his friend. Soon after Petronilla's +death, the Anician mansion had been thoroughly pillaged and everything +of value removed to the Palatine. Bessas condescended to justify this +proceeding: having learnt, he said, that the question of Aurelia's +orthodoxy lay in doubt, some declaring that she was a heretic, some +that she had returned to orthodoxy before her father's death, he took +charge of the property which might be hers until she appeared to claim +it, when, having the testament of Maximus in his hand, he would see +that justice was done. With Leander, Basil had succeeded in obtaining +an interview, which was altogether fruitless. The deacon would answer +no question, and contented himself with warning his visitor of the +dangers incurred by one who openly sought to defeat the will of the +Emperor. + +'Is it farewell?' asked Decius, stepping towards his kinsman, who +seemed about to leave the room. + +'I will think.' + +'Go speak with Gordian. He says that he can obtain you permission to +leave the city.' + +'I doubt it,' replied Basil. 'But I will see him--ere long.' + +Decius went forth for his morning's exercise, which sometimes took the +form of a gentle game of ball, but was generally a ramble on foot and +unaccompanied, for he never felt at ease when an attendant followed +him. His habits were solitary; ever absorbed in thought, or lost in +dreams, he avoided the ways where he would be likely to encounter an +acquaintance, and strayed among ruins in deserted gardens, such as were +easily found in the remoter parts of the Caelian. To-day, tempted on by +the delicious air, and the bright but not ardent sunshine, he wandered +by such unfrequented paths till a sound of voices broke upon his +meditation, and he found himself in view of the Lateran. Numbers of +poor people were streaming away from the open space by the Pope's +palace, loud in angry talk, its purpose intelligible enough to any one +who caught a few words. Decius heard maledictions upon the Holy Father, +mingled with curses no less hearty upon the Greeks who held Rome. + +'It was not thus,' cried an old man, 'in the time of King Theodoric, +heretic though he might be. We had our bread and our hog's flesh, prime +quality both, and plenty for all.' + +'Ay,' cried a woman, 'and our oil too. Since these Greek dogs came, not +a drop of oil has there been in my cruse. Heretics, forsooth! What +better is the Holy Father who lets Christians die of hunger while he +eats and drinks his fill?' + +'Evil go with thee, O Vigilius! The pest seize thee, O Vigilius! May'st +thou perish eternally, O Vigilius!' shrilled and shouted all manner of +voices, while fists were shaken towards the pontifical abode. + +Decius hastened away. The sight of suffering was painful to him, and +the cries of the vulgar offended his ear; he felt indignant that these +people should not be fed, as Rome for so many ages had fed her +multitude, but above all, he dreaded uproar, confusion, violence. His +hurried pace did not relax until he was lost again amid a wilderness of +ruins, where browsing goats and darting lizards were the only life. + +Later in the day, when he sat alone in the peristyle, a visitor was +introduced, whom he rose to welcome cordially and respectfully. This +was a man of some threescore years, vigorous in frame, with dry, +wrinkled visage and a thin, grey beard that fell to his girdle. As he +approached, Decius saw that he was bleeding from a wound on the head +and that his cloak was torn. + +'What means this, dear master?' he exclaimed. 'What has befallen you?' + +'Nothing worth your notice, gentle Decius,' the philosopher replied, +calmly and gravely. 'Let us rather examine this rare treatise of +Plotinus, which by good fortune I yesterday discovered among rubbish +thrown aside.' + +'Nay,' insisted Decius, 'but your wound must be washed and dressed; it +may else prove dangerous. I fear this was no accident?' + +'If you must know,' answered the other with good-natured peevishness, +'I am accused of magic. The honest folk who are my neighbours, +prompted, I think it likely, by a certain senator who takes it ill that +his son is my disciple, have shown me of late more attention than I +care for, and to-day as I came forth, they pursued me with cries of +"Sorcerer!" and the like, whereupon followed sticks and stones, and +other such popular arguments. It is no matter. Plotinus begins--' + +Simplicius was one of the last philosophers who taught in Athens, one +of the seven who were driven forth when Justinian, in his zeal for +Christianity, closed the schools. Guided by a rumour that supreme +wisdom was to be found in Persia, the sages journeyed to that kingdom, +where disappointment awaited them. After long wanderings and many +hardships, Simplicius came to Rome, and now had sojourned here for a +year or two, teaching such few as in these days gave any thought to +philosophy. Poor, and perhaps unduly proud, he preferred his own very +humble lodging to the hospitality which more than one friend had +offered him; and his open disregard for religious practices, together +with singularities of life and demeanour, sufficiently explained the +trouble that had come upon him. Charges of sorcery were not uncommon in +Rome at this time. Some few years ago a commission of senators had sat +in judgment upon two nobles accused of magic, a leading article of +proof against one of them being that he had a horse which, when +stroked, gave off sparks of fire. On this account Decius was much +troubled by the philosopher's story. When the wound had been attended +to, he besought Simplicius not to go forth again to-day, and with some +difficulty prevailed. + +'Why should it perturb you, O most excellent Decius,' said the sage, +'that a lover of wisdom is an offence to the untaught and the foolish? +Was it not ever thus? If philosophy may no longer find peace at Athens, +is it likely that she will be suffered to dwell at ease in Rome?' + +'Alas, no!' admitted Decius. 'But why, dear master, should you invite +the attacks of the ignorant?' + +'I do no such thing. I live and act as seems good to me, that is all. +Should no one have the courage to do that, what hope would there be, O +Decius, for that most glorious liberty, the liberty of the mind?' + +The listener bent his head abashed. Then Simplicius began to read from +the manuscript, and Decius, who knew Greek fairly well--he had lately +completed certain translations from Plato, left unfinished by +Boethius--gave reverent attention. At a certain point the philosopher +paused to comment, for the subject was difficult--nothing less than the +nature of God. In God, according to the system here expounded, there +are three principles or hypostases, united but unequal--the One, the +Intelligence, the Soul; which correspond, respectively, to the God of +Plato, the God of Aristotle, the God of Zeno. Usually curt and rather +dry in his utterances, Simplicius rose to a fervid eloquence as he +expounded this mysticism of Alexandria. Not that he accepted it as the +final truth, it was merely a step, though an important one, towards +that entire and absolute knowledge of which he believed that a glimpse +had been vouchsafed to him, even to him, in his more sublime hours. As +for Decius, the utmost effort never enabled him to attain familiarity +with these profound speculations: he was soon lost, and found his brain +whirling with words that had little or no significance. At home in +literature, in philosophy he did but strive and falter and lose +himself. When at length there came a silence, he sighed deeply, his +hand propping his forehead. + +'Master, how few men can ever know God!' + +'Few, few,' admitted the philosopher, his gaze upwards. + +'I think I should be content,' said Decius, 'to love and praise Him. +Yet that meseems is no less hard.' + +'No less,' was the reply. 'For, without knowledge, love and praise are +vain.' + +But Decius' thought had another meaning. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +SILVIA'S DREAM + + +It was the Paschal season, and Basil, careless at most times of +religious observances, did not neglect this supreme solemnity of his +faith. On Passion Day he fasted and received the Eucharist, Decius +doing the like, though with a half-smiling dreaminess which contrasted +with the other's troubled devotion. Since the death of Petronilla, +Basil had known moments of awe-stricken wonder or of gloomy fear such +as never before had visited him; for he entertained no doubt that his +imprecation had brought upon Petronilla her dreadful doom, and this was +a thought which had power to break his rest. Neither to Marcian nor to +Decius did he speak of it in plain terms, merely hinting his belief +that the cruel and treacherous woman had provoked divine anger. + +But the inclination to piety which resulted from such brooding was in +some measure counteracted by his hostile feeling towards all the +Church. Petronilla might have conceived the thought of imprisoning +Aurelia and Veranilda, but only with the aid of an influential cleric +such as Leander could she have carried it out so successfully. The +Church it was that held Veranilda captive; unless, indeed, it had +handed her over to the Greeks. This conviction made his heart burn with +wrath, which he could scarce subdue even whilst worshipping the +crucified Christ. His victim's heresy would of course be Leander's +excuse for what he had done; the daughter of Maximus and the Gothic +maiden were held in restraint for their souls' good. Not long after +Petronilla's death Basil had been driven by his distress of mind to +visit Gordian and Silvia, and to speak with them of this suspicion. He +saw that, for all their human kindness, they were disposed rather, to +approve than condemn the deacon's supposed action, and he had gone +forth from them in scarce concealed bitterness. + +Now, in the festival days of Easter, his thoughts again turned to that +house on the Clivus Scauri, so near to his own dwelling, yet so remote +from the world of turbid passions in which his lot was cast. The +household of Gordian seemed untouched by common cares; though +thoroughly human its domestic life, it had something of the calm, the +silence, of a monastery. None entered save those whom husband and wife +held in affection or in respect; idle gaiety was unknown beneath their +roof, and worldly ambition had no part in their counsels. Because of +the reverence these things inspired in him, and because of his longing +to speak with a pure-hearted woman who held him in kindness, Basil +again presented himself at his kinsman's door. He was led directly to +an inner room, where sat Silvia. + +The severe fasts of Lent had left their mark upon the young face, yet +it was fresh and smooth in its delicate pallor, and almost maidenly in +its gentle smile. Silvia had blue eyes, and hair of the chestnut hue; a +simple, white fillet lay above her forehead; her robe was of pale +russet, adorned with the usual purple stripes and edged with +embroidery; on each hand she wore but one ring. When the visitor +entered, she was nursing her child, a boy of four years old, named +Gregorius, but at once she put him to sit upon a little stool beside +her. + +'Welcome, dear cousin Basil,' was her greeting. 'We hoped this time of +gladness would turn your thoughts to us. My husband has been called +forth; but you will await his return?' + +'It was you, lady cousin, whom I wished to see,' Basil replied. As he +spoke, he touched the curly head of the boy, who looked up at him with +large, grave eyes. 'Why is he so pale?' + +'He has had a sickness,' answered the mother, in a low, tender voice. +'Not many days ago, one might have feared he would be taken from us. +Our prayers prevailed, thanks to the intercession of the holy Cosma and +Damian, and of the blessed Theodore. When he seemed to be dying, I bore +him to the church in the Velabrum, and laid him before the altar; and +scarcely had I finished my prayer, when a light seemed to shine upon +his face, and he knew me again, and smiled at me.' + +Listening, the child took his mother's hand, and pressed it against his +wan little cheek. Then Silvia rang a bell that was beside her, and a +woman came to take the child away, he, as he walked in silence from the +room, looking back and smiling wistfully. + +'I know not,' pursued Silvia, when they were alone, 'how we dare to +pray for any young life in times so dark as ours. But that we are +selfish in our human love, we should rather thank the Omnipotent when +it pleases Him to call one of these little ones, whom Christ blessed, +from a world against which His wrath is so manifestly kindled. And +yet,' she added, 'it must be right that we should entreat for a life in +danger; who can know to what it may be destined?--what service it may +render to God and man? One night when I watched by Gregorius, weariness +overcame me, and in a short slumber I dreamt. That dream I shall never +forget. It kept me in heart and hope through the worst.' + +'May I hear your dream?' asked Basil. + +'Nay,' was the gentle reply, with a smile and a shake of the head, 'to +you it would seem but foolishness. Let us speak of other things, and +first of yourself. You, too, are pale, good cousin. What have you to +tell me? What has come to pass since I saw you?' + +With difficulty Basil found words to utter the thought which had led +him hither. He came to it by a roundabout way, and Silvia presently +understood: he was indirectly begging her to use her influence with +eminent churchmen at Rome, to discover whether Veranilda was yet +detained in Italy, or had been sent to the East. At their previous +interview he had kept up the pretence of being chiefly interested in +the fate of Aurelia, barely mentioning the Gothic maiden; but that was +in the presence of Gordian. Now he spoke not of Aurelia at all, and so +dwelt on Veranilda's name that his implied confession could not be +misunderstood. And Silvia listened with head bent, interested, secretly +moved, at heart troubled. + +'What you ask,' she began, after a short silence, 'is not easy. If I +make inquiries of such of the clergy as I know, I must needs tell them +why I am doing so; and would they, in that case, think it well to +answer me?' + +'You know the deacon Leander,' urged Basil. 'Can you not plead for me +with him, O Silvia?' + +'Plead for you? Remember that it is impossible for me to assume that +the holy deacon knows anything of this matter. And, were that +difficulty removed, dare I plead for your union with one who is not of +our faith--one, moreover, whom you cannot wed without putting yourself +in grave peril?' + +'Listen, gentle cousin!' exclaimed Basil eagerly. 'It may be that +Veranilda has already renounced the heresy of Anus. If not, she would +assuredly do so at my persuasion. So, that objection you may dismiss. +As for the danger to which our marriage might expose us, our love would +dare that--ay, and things much worse.' + +'You speak so confidently of the Gothic maiden?' said Silvia, with a +look half-timid, half-amused. 'Was there, then, a veritable plighting +of troth between you?' + +'There was, dear cousin. From you I will conceal nothing, for you are +good, you are compassionate.' + +And whilst he poured forth the story of his love, not without tears, +Silvia gave sympathetic attention. The lady Petronilla had never been +one of her intimates, nor was the deacon Leander among those +ecclesiastics whom she most reverenced. When Basil had told all, her +reply was ready. All she could do would be to endeavour to learn +whether Veranilda remained in the charge of Petronilla's confederate, +or had been given up to the Greeks. From conversation she had heard, +Silvia inclined to this belief, that Bessas and his subordinates were +still vainly seeking. + +'I can make you no promise, good Basil; but I will take counsel with my +husband (whom you can trust as you trust me), and see if indeed +anything may be learnt.' + +The lover kissed her hands in ardent gratitude. Whilst they were still +talking confidentially, another visitor was announced, the deacon +Pelagius. Basil begged permission to withdraw before the cleric +entered; he was in no mood for conversation with deacons; and Silvia +pointed smilingly to the door by which he could retreat. + +The hour was still early. Basil passed a day of hopefulness, and his +mood became exultant when, about sunset, a letter was brought to him +from Silvia. + +'To-morrow morning, at the third hour,' she wrote, 'certain of our +kinsfolk and friends will assemble in this house to hear the reverend +man Arator read his poem on the Acts of the Holy Apostles. This is an +honour done to us, for only two or three persons have as yet heard +portions of the poem, which will soon be read publicly in the church of +the Holy Petrus ad Vincula. Let me welcome your Amiability among my +guests. After the reading, I shall beg you to be acquainted with one +who may perchance serve you.' + +Scarcely had Basil read this, when another missive was put into his +hands. It was from Heliodora, and written, as usual, in Greek +characters. + +'To-morrow, after the ninth hour, you are bidden hither. Come if you +choose. If you do not, I shall have forgotten something I have learnt.' + +To this he paid little heed; it might have significance, it might have +none. If the morning sustained his hope, he would be able to resist the +temptation of the afternoon. So he cherished Silvia's letter, and flung +Heliodora's contemptuously aside. + +Reaching Gordian's house next morning a little before the appointed +hour, he found the members of the family and one or two guests +assembled in a circular room, with a dome pierced to admit light: +marble seats, covered with cushions, rose amphitheatre-wise on one half +of the circle, and opposite was a chair for the reader. In this hall +Sidonius Apollinaris had declaimed his panegyric on the Emperor Avitus; +here the noble Boethius had been heard, and, in earlier days, the poet +Claudian. Beside Silvia stood her husband's two sisters, Tarsilla and +Aemiliana, both of whom, it had begun to be rumoured, though still in +the flower of their youth, desired to enter the monastic life. At the +younger, who was beautiful, Basil glanced diffidently, remembering that +she might have been his wife; but Aemiliana knew nothing of the thought +her brother had entertained, and her eyes were calm as those of a +little child. When other guests appeared, Basil drew aside, for most of +the persons who entered were strangers to him. Ecclesiastics grew +numerous; among them might be distinguished a tall, meagre, bald-headed +man, the sub-deacon Arator, who held in his hand the manuscript from +which he was to read. Among the latest to arrive was a lady, stricken +in years and bowed with much grief, upon whom all eyes were +respectfully bent as Gordian conducted her to a place of honour. This +was Rusticiana, the daughter of Symmachus, the widow of Boethius. When +Basil looked at her, and thought of the anguish through which her life +had passed in that gloomy evening of the reign of Theodoric, he felt +himself for a moment at one with those who rejected and scorned the +Gothic dominion. A great unhappiness flooded his heart and mind; he +forgot what was passing about him, and only returned to himself when +there sounded the voice of the reader. + +Arator's poetic version of the Acts of the Apostles was written in +hexameters; whether good or ill, Basil felt unable to decide, and he +wished Decius had been here to whisper a critical comment. In any case +he would have found the reading wearisome; that monotonous, indistinct +voice soon irritated him, and at length made him drowsy. But admiration +frequently broke out from the audience, and at the end applause became +enthusiasm. Unspeakably glad that the ceremony was over, Basil mingled +with the moving crowd, and drew towards Silvia. At length their eyes +met; the lady thereupon spoke a word to a cleric who was standing by +her, and in the next moment summoned Basil with a movement of the head. +There was a brief formality, then Basil found himself led aside by the +deacon Pelagius, who spoke to him in a grave, kind voice very pleasant +to the ear, with the courtesy of a finished man of the world, and at +the same time with a firmness of note, a directness of purpose, which +did not fail to impress the listener. + +Aged about five-and-thirty, bearing upon his countenance the signature +of noble birth, Pelagius was at this moment the most accomplished +diplomat that the Church of Rome possessed. He had spent some years at +Byzantium, as papal emissary; had engaged the confidence of Justinian; +and, on his return, had brought an Imperial invitation to Vigilius, who +was requested to set forth for the East as soon as possible. Pope +Vigilius had the misfortune to differ on certain dogmatic questions +with that pious and acute theologian the Empress Theodora; being a man +of little energy or courage, he durst not defy Byzantium, as he gladly +would have done, nor yet knew how to deal subtly for his own ends with +the Eastern despots; he lingered his departure, and in the meantime +earned hatred at Rome because of his inability to feed the populace. It +was already decided that, during his absence, the Holy Father should be +represented by Pelagius, an arrangement very agreeable to that party in +the Church which upheld Imperial supremacy, but less so to those +ecclesiastics--a majority--who desired the independence of Rome in +religious matters, and the recognition of Peter's successor as +Patriarch of Christendom. In speaking to such a personage as this on +Basil's behalf, Silvia had not reflected that the friend of Justinian +was little likely to take the part of one who desired to frustrate an +Imperial command; she thought only of his great influence, and of the +fact that he looked with no favour on the deacon Leander, an +anti-imperialist. What was again unfortunate for Basil, Pelagius had +heard, before leaving Byzantium, of the Emperor's wish to discover +Veranilda, and had already made inquiries on this subject in Rome. He +was glad, then, to speak with this young noble, whose mind he found it +very easy to read, and whom, without the least harshness, he resolved +to deter from his pursuit of a Gothic bride. + +The colloquy was not long. Buoyed by his ardour, Basil interpreted the +first words of courteous preamble in the most hopeful sense. What +followed gave him pause; he saw a shadow of obstacle arise. Another +moment, and the obstacle had become very real; it grew to vastness, to +insuperability He stood, as it were, looking into the very eyes of the +Serene Majesty of Byzantium. Not that the speaker used a tone of +peremptory discouragement. Granting the indispensable condition that +Veranilda became a Catholic, it was not an impossible thing, said +Pelagius, that Basil should obtain her as a wife; _but_ it could only +be by the grace of the Emperor. Veranilda had been summoned to +Byzantium. If Basil chose to follow her thither, and sue for her before +the throne, why, this was open to him, as to any other Roman of noble +birth. It would have been idle indeed to seek to learn from Pelagius +whether Veranilda had already left Italy, his tone was that of +omniscience, but his brow altogether forbade interrogation. Basil, in +despair, ventured one inquiry. If he desired to go to Byzantium, could +he obtain leave of departure from the Greek commandant, under whose ban +he lay? The reply was unhesitating; at any moment, permission could be +granted. Therewith the conversation came to an end, and Basil, hating +the face of man, stole away into solitude. + +Entering his own house, he learnt that Marcian was within. For a month +they had not seen each other, Marcian having been absent on missions of +the wonted double tenor; they met affectionately as ever, then Basil +flung himself down, like one crushed by sudden calamity. + +'What now?' asked his friend, with a rallying rather than a sympathetic +air. + +'No matter,' Basil replied. 'You are weary of my troubles, and I can no +longer talk of them.' + +'What troubles? The old story still? I thought you had found solace?' + +Basil looked an indignant wonder. His friend, sitting on the couch +beside him, continued in the same half-bantering tone: + +'When were you last at the house of a certain disconsolate widow, on +the Quirinal?' + +'What mean you?' cried the other, starting up, with sudden fury in his +eyes. 'Are you vowed with my enemies to drive me mad?' + +'Not I, dear Basil; but hear the truth. Only late last night I entered +the gates of Rome, and since I rose this morning three several persons +have spoken your name to me together with that of Heliodora.' + +'They are black and villainous liars! And you, Marcian, so ready to +believe them? Tell me their names, their names!' + +'Peace! One would think you mad indeed. You know the son of Opilio, +young Vivian?' + +'I know him!' answered Basil scornfully, 'as I know the lousy beggar +who sits before St. Clement's Church, or the African who tumbles in +Trajan's forum.' + +'Even so. This same spark of fashion stops me in the Vicus Longus. "You +are the friend of Basil," quoth he. "Give him this warning. If ever I +chance to find him near the portico of Heliodora, I will drive my +dagger into his heart," and on he struts, leaving me so amazed that I +forgot even to fetch the cub a box o' the ear. But I had not long to +wait for an explanation of his insolence. Whom should I next meet but +the solemn-visaged Opilio. "So your friend Basil," he began, "has +forgotten his Gothic love?" We talked, and I learnt from him that you +were the hot rival of Vivian for Heliodora's favour. Nay, I do but +repeat what you ought to hear. Can such gossip begin without cause? +Tell me now, how often have you been yonder since I left Rome?' + +Basil could scarce contain himself. He had visited Heliodora, yes, but +merely because he would neglect no chance of learning where Veranilda +was imprisoned; it was not impossible that through this woman such a +secret might be discovered. He the rival of that debauched boy! He the +lover of Heliodora! Had he sunk so low in the esteem of his best +friend? Why, then, it was time indeed to be gone: befall him what +might, he could not be unhappier in Constantinople than here in Rome. + +At these words, Marcian checked him with a surprised inquiry. What had +turned his thoughts to Constantinople? Basil related the events of +yesterday and of this morning. + +'What other counsel could you have expected from Pelagius?' said +Marcian, after listening attentively. 'But on one point I can reassure +you. Veranilda has not yet fallen into the hands of the Greeks.' + +'How do you know that?' exclaimed Basil eagerly. + +'Enough that I do know it. Whilst you have been idling here--forgive +me, good Basil--I have travelled far and conversed with many men. And I +have something else to tell you, which will perchance fall less +agreeably upon your ear. The fame of Veranilda promises to go forth +over all lands. King Totila himself has heard of her, and would fain +behold this ornament of his race.' + +'Totila!' + +'When Cumae was besieged by the Goths three months ago, Chorsoman--whom +you have not forgotten--made terms with Totila, and was allowed to keep +some portion of the plunder he had amassed. Thinking to do the king a +pleasure, he told him of Veranilda, of the commands regarding her which +had come from the East, and of her vanishing no one knew whither. And +of these things, O Basil, did Totila himself, with his royal mouth, +speak unto me not many days gone by.' + +'I see not how that concerns me,' said Basil wearily. + +'True, it may not. Yet, if I were wooing a wife, I had rather seek her +at the hands of Totila than at those of Justinian. To be sure, I did +not speak of you to the king; that would have been less than discreet. +But Totila will ere long be lord of all Italy, and who knows but the +deacon Leander, no friend of Constantinople, might see his interest and +his satisfaction in yielding Veranilda rather to the Goth than to the +Greek?' + +Basil started. Such a thought had never entered his mind, yet he saw +probability in the suggestion. + +'You assure me,' he said, 'that she has not yet been surrendered. I +find that hard to believe. Knowing in whose power she is, how comes it +that Bessas does not seize the insolent Leander, and force the truth +from him? Were I the commander, would I be baffled for an hour by that +sleek deacon?' + +'Were you commander, O best Basil,' replied Marcian, smiling, 'you +would see things in another light. Bessas does not lay hands upon the +deacon because it is much more to his profit to have the clergy of Rome +for his friends than for his enemies. Whether Veranilda be discovered +or not, he cares little; I began to suspect that when I saw that you +came off so easily from your dealings with him. 'Tis a long road to +Constantinople, and the Thracian well knows that he may perchance never +travel it again. His one care is to heap up treasure for to-day; the +morrow may look after itself. But let us return to the point from which +we started. Do you think in earnest of voyaging to the Bosporus?' + +'I should only choose a hazard so desperate were it the sole chance +that remained of recovering Veranilda.' + +'Wait, then, yet awhile. But take my counsel, and do not wait in Rome.' + +To this advice Basil gave willing ear. Since he had heard from Pelagius +that he was free to quit the city, he was all but resolved to be gone. +One thought alone detained him; he still imagined that Heliodora might +have means such as she professed of aiding him in his search, and that, +no matter how, he might subdue her will to his own. She, of course, +aimed only at enslaving him, and he knew her capable of any wickedness +in the pursuit of her ends; for this very reason was he tempted into +the conflict with her, a conflict in which his passions would have no +small part, and whether for or against him could not be foreseen. Once +more he would visit Heliodora; if fruitlessly, then for the last time. + +But of this decision he did not speak to Marcian. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +YOUNG ROME + + +At the hour named by Heliodora, Basil set forth alone and rode by +unfrequented ways towards the street on the Quirinal named Alta Semita. +A sense of shame forbade him to make known even to his slaves whither +he was going. He kept repeating to himself that it was for the last +time; and perhaps a nobler motive would have withheld him altogether, +had not the story told by Marcian of his 'rival's' insolent menace +rankled in him and urged him to show that he felt no fear. Chance led +him past the little church of St. Agatha, which belonged to the Arians; +it helped him to fix his thoughts upon Veranilda, and silently he swore +that no temptation should prevail against the fidelity due to his +beloved. + +Not far from the Thermae of Constantine, and over against that +long-ruined sanctuary of ancient Rome, the Temple of Quirinus, he drew +rein at a great house with a semicircular portico of Carystian columns, +before which stood a bronze bull, the ornament of a fountain now +waterless; on either side of the doorway was a Molossian hound in +marble. A carriage and a litter waiting here showed that Heliodora had +visitors. This caused Basil to hesitate for a moment but he decided to +enter none the less. At his knock he was at once admitted, and a slave +was sent to look after his horse. + +Few houses in Rome contained so many fine works of ancient sculpture as +this, for its master had been distinguished by his love of such things +in a time when few cared for them. Some he had purchased at a great +price; more than one masterpiece he had saved from oblivion amid ruins, +or from the common fate of destruction in a lime-kiln. Well for him had +he been content to pass his latter years with the cold creations of the +sculptor; but he turned his eyes upon consummate beauty in flesh and +blood, and this, the last of his purchases, proved the costliest of all. + +The atrium was richly adorned. A colossal bust of Berenice faced the +great head of an Amazon, whilst numerous statues, busts, and vases +stood between the pillars; mosaics on the floor represented hunting +scenes, the excellence of the work no less than its worn condition +showing it to be of a time long gone by. Following his conductor, Basil +passed along a corridor, and into a peristyle with a double colonnade. +In the midst of a little garden, planted with flowering shrubs, rose +the statue which its late owner had most prized, an admirable copy of +the Aphrodite of Cnidos; it stood upon a pedestal of black basalt and +was protected by a light canopy with slender columns in all but +transparent alabaster. Round about it were marble seats, and here, +shielded from the sun by little silken awnings, sat Heliodora and her +guests. At once Basil became aware of the young Vivian, whose boyish +form (he was but some eighteen years old) lounged among cushions on the +seat nearest to Heliodora, his eyes fixed upon her beauty in a +languishing gaze, which, as soon as he beheld the new comer, flashed +into fierceness. The others were two women, young and comely, whose +extravagant costume and the attitudes in which they reclined proved +them suitable companions of the lady of the house. Whilst yet at some +distance, Basil had heard a feminine voice rising to shrillness, and as +he approached the group he found a discussion going on which threatened +to become more than vivacious. The shrill speaker he had met here +before, who she was, he knew not, save that she bore the name of +Muscula. + +'You--you--you!' this lady was exclaiming contemptuously. 'You say +this, and you say that! Mother of God! What do _you_ know about racing? +When were you last in the circus at Constantinople? At eight years old +you once told me. You have a good memory if you can remember as far +back as that!' + +She shrieked a laugh, which no one else joined in. Heliodora, to whom +the speech was addressed, affected to smile as in lofty tolerance of +infantine pettishness. At this moment Basil stepped up to her, and +kissed her hand; As though for contrast with Muscula's utterance, she +greeted him in the softest tone her voice could compass, inviting him +with a gesture to take a place at her side, or rather at her feet, for +she was reclining on a long couch. Heliodora's robe was of hyacinth +blue, broidered in silver thread with elaborate designs. Bracelets, +chains, and rings shone about her in the wonted profusion. Above the +flat coils of her hair lay a little bunch of grapes between two vine +leaves, wrought in gold, and at her waist hung a dagger, the silver +sheath chased with forms of animals. Standing behind her the little +Anglian slave Laetus gently fanned her with a peacock's tail, or +sprinkled her with perfume from a vial; the air was heavy with Sabaean +odours. + +'Ah, here is lord Basil!' pursued Muscula with a mischievous glance at +Vivian. 'He has lived at Constantinople lately--not thirty or forty +years ago. Tell us, sweet lord'--she bent towards him with large, +rolling eyes--'was it not Helladius who won for the Greens when Thomas +the Blue was overturned and killed?' + +'For all I know it may have been,' replied Basil carelessly; he had +scarce heard the question. + +'I swear you are wrong, Muscula,' put in the third lady. 'The lord +Basil cares naught for such things, and would not contradict you lest +you should scratch his face--so dangerous you look, much more like a +cat than a mouse. By the beard of Holy Peter! should not Heliodora +know, who, though she is too young to remember it herself, has heard of +it many a time from her father. You think too much of yourself, O +Muscula, since you ate crumbs from the hands of Bessas.' + +The boy Vivian gave a loud laugh, rolling on his cushions. + +'O witty Galla!' he exclaimed. 'Crumbs from the hand of Bessas. Say on, +say on; I love your spicy wit, O Galla! Cannot you find something +sharp, for the most grave, the most virtuous Basil?' + +'Hold your saucy tongue, child,' said Heliodora with a pouting smile. +'But it is true that Muscula has won advancement. One doesn't need to +have a very long memory to recall her arrival in Rome. There are who +say that she came as suckling nurse in a lady's train, with the promise +of marriage to a freedman when her mistress's baby was weaned. That is +malice, of course; poor Muscula has had many enemies. For my part, I +have never doubted that she was suckling her own child, nor that its +father was a man of honourable name, and not a slave of the Circus +stables as some said.' + +Again Vivian rolled on the cushions in mirth, until he caught Basil's +eye as it glanced at him with infinite scorn. Then he started to a +sitting posture, fingered the handle of his dagger, and glared at +Heliodora's neighbour with all the insolent ferocity of which his face +was capable. This youth was the son of a man whose name sounded ill to +any Roman patriot,--of that Opilio, who, having advanced to high rank +under King Theodoric, was guilty of frauds, fell from his eminence, +and, in hope of regaining the king's favour, forged evidence of +treachery against Boethius. His attire followed the latest model from +Byzantium: a loose, long-sleeved tunic, descending to the feet, its hue +a dark yellow, and over that a long mantle of white silk, held together +upon one shoulder by a great silver buckle in the form of a running +horse; silken shoes, gold embroidered, with leather soles dyed purple; +and on each wrist a bracelet. His black hair was short, and crisped +into multitudinous curls with a narrow band of gold pressing it from +the forehead to the ears. + +'Oh, look at little Vivian!' cried Muscula. 'He has the eyes of an +angry rat. What vexes him? Is it because he saw Basil touch Heliodora's +slipper?' + +'If I had!' sputtered the boy. 'By the devil, if I had!' + +'Oh, he affrights me!' went on the mocking woman. 'Heliodora, stroke +his curls, and give him a kiss, I beseech you. Who knows what dreadful +thing may happen else?' + +'I have had enough of this,' said Galla, rising with a careless laugh. +'Your house has been intolerable, most dear Heliodora, since you made +friends with Muscula. Why you did, I'm sure I don't know; but for my +part I take a respectful leave, noble lady, until I hear that this +mouse of the Palatine has ceased to amuse you with its pretty pranks. +May I never be saved if she is fit company for women who respect +themselves.' + +'Why such hurry, O chaste Galla!' exclaimed Muscula. 'Is your husband +at home for once? I can answer for it he is not there very often; the +wiser man he.' + +'Slap her face, Galla,' cried Vivian. 'At her! She will run before you.' + +Galla moved as if to act upon this advice, but the voice of Heliodora, +peremptory, resonant, checked her step. + +'None of that! Get you gone, both of you, and try conclusions if you +will in the open street. Off! Pack! By the Virgin Mother, if you linger +I will have you flung out of doors.' + +In her amazement and indignation, Galla rose to the tips of her feet. + +'This to _me_!' she screamed. 'To me, the only woman of noble birth and +honest life who still remained your friend! Wanton! witch! poisoner!' + +Basil sprang up and walked aside, overcome with shame at the scene +enacted before him, and fearing it would end in ignoble violence. He +heard Muscula's shriek of laughter, a shout of anger from Vivian, and +the continued railing of Galla; then, ere he had taken a dozen steps, a +hand touched him, and Heliodora's voice sounded low at his ear. + +'You are right, dear Basil. Only an accident prevented me from being +alone at your hour. Forgive me. We will go apart from these +base-tongued creatures.' + +But almost in the same moment sounded another voice, that of Muscula, +who had sprung after them. + +'Sweet lord Basil,' she murmured at his ear, 'a moment's patience, for +I have that to say which is worth your hearing.' + +Heliodora stepped aside. Pale with fury, she held herself in an +attitude of contemptuous indifference. + +'Speak and have done!' exclaimed Basil harshly. + +'But a word, Illustrious. I know well why you are here. Not for this +woman's painted cheeks and essence-soaked hair: you had enough of that +long ago. You come because she pretends to know a secret which concerns +you nearly. It was to discover this secret that she sought friendship +with me. But do not imagine, sweet lord, that I tell all I know to +Heliodora. I have played with her curiosity and fooled her. From me she +has learnt nothing true. Even if she desired to tell you the truth--and +be sure she does not--she could only mislead you.' + +Basil was standing between the two women, his eyes on the ground. Had +he watched Heliodora at this moment, he would have understood the +sudden start with which Muscula sprang nearer to him as if for +protection. + +'I alone,' she continued, in a voice not so subdued but that Heliodora +could hear every word. 'I alone can discover for you what you wish to +know. Give yourself no more trouble in suing to a woman of whom you are +weary--a woman evil and dangerous as a serpent. When you choose to seek +me, dear lord, I will befriend you. Till that day, fare you well, and +beware of other things than the silver-hilted dagger--which she would +draw upon me did she dare. But she knows that I too have my little +bosom friend--' she touched her waist--'though it does not glitter +before every eye.' + +Therewith Muscula turned and tripped off, looking back to laugh aloud +before she disappeared in the corridor. Galla was already gone, half +persuaded, half threatened away by Vivian, who now stood with knitted +brows glaring at Basil. + +'I must get rid of this boy,' said Heliodora to her companion. 'In a +moment we shall be alone.' + +Basil was held from taking curt leave only by Vivian's insolent eyes; +when Heliodora moved, he stepped slowly after her. + +'Your company is precious, dear Vivian,' he heard her say, 'but you +must not spoil me with too much of it. Why did you not go away with +Galla, whose wit so charms you, and whose husband is so complaisant? +There, kiss my little finger, and say good-bye.' + +'That shall be when it pleases me,' was Vivian's reply. 'To-day I have +a mind to sup with you, Heliodora. Let that intruder know it; or I will +do so myself.' + +Heliodora had the air of humouring a jest. Putting forth a hand, she +caught the stripling's ear and pinched it shrewdly. + +'Little lord,' she said, 'you take too large a liberty.' + +Whereto Vivian replied with a pleasantry so broad and so significant +that Heliodora's cheek fired; for she saw that Basil stood within +hearing. + +'Nay, I must be brief with you, young monkey!' she exclaimed. 'Away! +When I am at leisure for your tricks I will send for you. Be off!' + +'And leave you with that...?' cried the other, using a villainous +word. + +Hereupon Basil addressed him. + +'Whether you stay or go, foul mouth, is naught to me. I am myself in +haste to be gone, but I will not leave you without a lesson by which, +perchance, you may profit.' + +As he uttered the last word, he dealt Vivian such a buffet on the side +of the head with his open hand that the youngster staggered. The result +of this, Basil had well foreseen; he stood watchful, and in an instant, +as a dagger gleamed before his eyes, grasped the descending arm that +wielded it. Vivian struggled furiously, but was overcome by the other's +strength. Flung violently to the ground, his head struck against the +edge of a marble seat, and he lay senseless. + +Heliodora looked on with the eyes with which she had often followed a +fight between man and beast in the amphitheatre. Pride, and something +more, lit up her countenance as she turned to Basil. + +'Brave generous!' she exclaimed, her hands clasped against her bosom. +'Not even to draw your dagger! Noble Basil!' + +'Have him looked to,' was the reply; 'and console him as you choose. +Lady, I bid you farewell.' + +For a moment Heliodora stood as though she would let him thus depart. +Basil was nearing the entrance to the corridor, when she sprang after +him. Her arms were about his neck; her body clung against his; she +breathed hotly into his eyes as she panted forth words, Latin, Greek, +all burning with shameless desire. But Basil was not thus to be +subdued. The things that he had heard and seen, and now at last the +hand-to-hand conflict, had put far from him all temptation of the +flesh; his senses were cold as the marbles round about him. This woman, +who had never been anything to him but a lure and a peril, whom he had +regarded with the contempt natural in one of his birth towards all but +a very few of her sex, now disgusted him. He freed himself from her +embrace with little ceremony. + +'Have I deceived you?' he asked. 'Have I pretended to come here for +anything but my own purpose, which you pretended to serve?' + +Heliodora stood in a strange attitude, her arms thrown back, her body +leaning forward--much like some fierce and beautiful animal watching +the moment to spring. + +'Do you believe what that harlot said?' she asked in a thick voice. + +'Enough of it to understand my folly in hoping to learn anything +through you. Let us part, and think of each other no more.' + +She caught his arm and put her face close to his. + +'Leave me thus, and your life shall pay for it.' + +Basil laughed scornfully. + +'That cockerel,' he replied, pointing to Vivian, who was just stirring, +'sent me a message this morning, that if I valued my life I should not +come here. I heed your threat no more than his.' + +They looked into each other's eyes, and Heliodora, deep read in the +looks of men, knew that her desire was frustrate. + +'Go then,' she said. 'Go quickly, lest the boy pursue you His second +aim might be surer.' + +Basil deigned no reply. He went into the vestibule, waited there until +his horse was brought up, and rode away. + +His head bent, scarce noting the way he took, he found himself at the +entrance to Trajan's Forum. Here he checked his horse, and seemed to be +contemplating that scene which for centuries had excited the wonder and +the awe of men. But when he rode on over the grass-grown pavement, he +was as little observant of the arches, statues, galleries, and of that +great column soaring between Basilica and Temple, as of the people who +moved hither and thither, sparse, diminutive. Still brooding, he came +into the Via Lata and to the house of Marcian. + +Marcian, said the porter, was closeted with certain visitors. + +'Make known to him,' said Basil, 'that I would speak but a word in +private.' + +They met in the atrium. Marcian smiled oddly. + +'If you come to tell me what you have heard this afternoon,' he +whispered, 'spare your breath. I know it already.' + +'How can that be?' + +'I have seen an angry woman. Angry women are always either very +mischievous or very useful. In this case I hope to make use of her. But +I can tell you nothing yet, and I would that you were far from Rome. +Could I but persuade you to be gone, dear Basil.' + +'I need no more persuading,' replied the other, with sudden resolve. +'If it be true that I am free to leave the city, I go hence to-morrow.' + +Marcian's face lighted up. + +'To Asculum, then?' + +'Since here I have no hope. Can I trust you, Marcian?' he added, +grasping his friend's hand. + +'As yourself--nay, better.' + +'Then, to Asculum.' + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +WHISPERS + + +The greater part of southern Italy was once more held by the Goths. +Whilst the long blockade of Neapolis went on, Totila found time to +subdue all that lay between that city and the Ionian Sea, meeting, +indeed, with little resistance among the country-folk, or from the +inhabitants of the mostly unwalled towns. The Imperial forces which +should have been arrayed against him had wintered in various cities of +the north, where their leaders found all they at present cared for, +repose and plunder; their pay long in arrear, and hardly to be hoped +for, the Greek soldiers grew insubordinate, lived as they would or +could, and with the coming of spring deserted in numbers to the +victorious enemy. Appeals to Byzantium for reinforcements had as yet +resulted only in the sending of a small, ill-equipped fleet, which, +after much delay in Sicilian ports, sailed for Neapolis, only to be +surprised by a storm, and utterly wrecked on the shores of the great +bay. Not long after the news of this disaster, it was reported in Rome +that Neapolis, hopeless of relief, had opened her gates, and presently +the report had strange confirmation. There arrived by the Appian Way +officers of the garrison which had surrendered; not as harassed +fugitives, but travelling with all convenience and security, the Gothic +king himself having expedited their journey and sent guides with them +lest they should miss the road. Nor was this the most wonderful of the +things they had to relate. For they told of humanity on the part of the +barbarian conqueror such as had no parallel in any story of warfare +known to Greek or Roman; how the Neapolitans being so famine-stricken +that they could scarce stand on their legs, King Totila would not at +once send plentiful stores into the town, lest the sufferers should die +of surfeit, but ministered to their needs even as a friendly physician +would have done, giving them at first little food, and more as their +strength revived. To be sure, there were partisans of the Empire in +Rome who scoffed at those who narrated, and those who believed, a story +so incredible. On the Palatine, it was at first received with roars of +laughter, in which the lady Muscula's shrill voice had its part. When +confirmation had put the thing beyond dispute, Bessas and his +supporters made a standing joke of it; if any one fell sick their word +was: 'Send for the learned Totila'; and when there was talk of a siege +of Rome, they declared that their greatest fear, should the city fall, +was of being dieted and physicked by the victor. + +Romans there were, however, who heard all this in another spirit. The +ill-fed populace had long ago become ready for any change which might +benefit their stomachs, and the name of Totila was to them significant +of all they lacked under the Greeks. 'Let the Goth come quickly!' +passed from mouth to mouth wherever the vulgar durst speak what they +thought. Among the nobles, prejudice of race and religion and +immemorial pride ensured predominance to the Imperialists, but even +here a Gothic party existed, and imprudent utterances had brought +certain senators into suspicion. The most active friend of Totila, +however, was one whom Bessas never thought of suspecting, having, as he +thought, such evidence of the man's devotion to the Greek cause. +Marcian had played his double part with extraordinary skill and with +boldness which dared every risk. He was now exerting himself in +manifold ways, subtly, persistently, for the supreme achievement of his +intrigue, the delivery of Rome from Byzantine tyranny. + +Among the many persons whom he made to serve his ends without admitting +them to his confidence was Galla, the wife of a noble whom Amalasuntha +had employed in her secret communications with Byzantium, and who was +now one of the intimates of Bessas. A light woman, living as she +pleased because of her husband's indifference, Galla knew and cared +nothing about affairs of state, and on that account was the more useful +to Marcian. She believed him in love with her, and he encouraged the +belief; flattering her with pretence at timidity, as though he would +fain have spoken but durst not. Regarding him as her slave, Galla +amused herself by sometimes coming to his house, where, as if in the +pride of chastity, she received his devotion, and meanwhile told him +things he was glad to know. And thus it happened on that day of the +quarrel between Heliodora and Muscula, wherein Galla unexpectedly found +herself involved. Bubbling over with wrath against Heliodora, she at +once sought out Marcian, acquainted him with all that had happened, and +made evident her desire to be in some way avenged. Marcian saw in this +trivial affair the opportunity for a scheme of the gravest import; +difficult, perilous, perhaps impracticable, but so tempting in its +possibilities that he soon resolved to hazard everything on the chance +of success. Basil's departure from Rome, which he had desired for other +reasons, fell pat for the device now shaping itself in his mind. A day +or two after, early in the morning, he went to Heliodora's house, and +sent in a message begging private speech with the lady. As he had +expected, he was received forthwith, Heliodora being aware of his +friendship with Basil. Between her and Marcian the acquaintance was but +slight; he had hitherto regarded her as unserviceable, because too +dangerous. It was because of her dangerous qualities that he now sought +her, and his courage grew as the conversation became intimate. + +He began with a confession. Head hanging, visage gloomy, in slow, +indirect, abashed language, he let it be understood that though truly +Basil's friend, he had all along been secretly doing his utmost to +frustrate the lover's search for the Gothic maiden Veranilda, and, as +part of this purpose, had striven to turn Basil's thoughts to +Heliodora. That he had had no better success grieved him to the heart. +All who wished Basil well, desired that he should marry a lady of his +own rank, his own religion, and could he but have won a wife such as +Heliodora! + +'Alas!' sighed Marcian, 'it was too much to hope. How could you be +other than cold to him? Had you deigned, thrice gracious lady, to set +your beauty, your gifts, in contest with his memory of that other!' + +In every man that approached her, Heliodora suspected a selfish aim, +but it was seldom that she talked with one whose subtlety seemed the +equal of her own. The little she knew of Marcian had predisposed her to +regard him as a cold and melancholy nature, quite uninteresting; she +eyed him now with her keenest scrutiny, puzzled by his story, vainly +seeking its significance. + +'Your friend complained to you of my coldness?' she said distantly. + +'He scarce spoke of you. I knew too well with what hope he came here. +When he found it vain, he turned away in bitterness.' + +This sounded like truth to one who knew Basil. After a moment's +reflection, Heliodora made another inquiry, and in a tone of less +indifference. + +'Why, lord Marcian, do you come to tell me this? Basil has quitted +Rome. You can scarce ask me to pursue him.' + +'Lady,' was the sad reply, 'I will not even yet abandon hope. But this +is not the moment to plead his cause with you, and indeed I came with a +thought more selfish.' + +Ready to believe whatever might be uttered with such preface, Heliodora +smiled and bade the speaker continue. Again Marcian's head drooped; +again his words became hesitant, vague. But their purpose at length +grew unmistakable; unhappy that he was, he himself loved Veranilda, and +the vehemence of his passion overcame his loyalty in friendship; never +whilst he lived should Basil wed the Gothic maiden. This revelation +astonished Heliodora; she inquired when and how Marcian had become +enamoured, and heard in reply a detailed narrative, part truth, part +false, of the events at Surrentum, known to her as yet only in outline +and without any mention of Marcian's part in them. Upon her surprise +followed malicious joy. Was there no means, she asked, of discovering +Veranilda? And the other in a low voice made answer that he knew where +she was--knew but too well. + +'I shall not ask you to tell me the secret,' said Heliodora, with a +smile. + +'Gracious lady,' pursued Marcian, 'it is for the purpose of revealing +it to you that I am here. Veranilda is in the palace, held in guard by +Bessas till she can have escort to Constantinople.' + +'Ha! You are sure of that?' + +'I have it on testimony that cannot be doubted.' + +'Why then,' exclaimed Heliodora, all but betraying her exultation in +the thought, 'there is little chance that Basil's love will prosper.' + +'Little chance, dear lady, I hope and believe, but I have confessed to +you that I speak as a self-seeker and a faithless friend. It is not +enough that Basil may not wed her; I would fain have her for myself.' + +The listener laughed. She began to think this man something of a +simpleton. + +'Why, my excellent Marcian, I will give you all my sympathy and wish +you good fortune. But that any one may do. What more do you expect of +me?' + +Marcian looked towards the open doorway. They were seated in a +luxurious little room, lighted from the peristyle, its adornments in +sculpture a sleeping Hermaphrodite and a drunken satyr; on the wall +were certain marble low-reliefs, that behind Heliodora representing +Hylas drawn down by the Naiads. + +'Speak without fear,' she reassured him. 'In this house, believe me, no +one dare play the eavesdropper.' + +'I have to speak,' said Marcian, bending forward, 'of things +perilous--a life hanging on every word. Only to one of whose +magnanimity I felt assured should I venture to disclose my thought. You +have heard,' he proceeded after a pause, 'and, yet I am perchance wrong +in supposing that such idle talk could reach your ears, let me make +known to you then, that with Bessas in the palace dwells a fair woman +(or so they say, for I have not seen her) named Muscula. She is said to +have much power with the commander.' + +The listener's countenance had darkened. Regarding Marcian with haughty +coldness, she asked him how this could concern _her_. He, in appearance +dismayed, falteringly entreated her pardon. + +'Be not angered, O noble Heliodora! I did not presume to think that you +yourself had any acquaintance with this woman. I wished to make known +to you things that I have heard of her--things which I doubt not are +true. But, as it is only in my own interest that I speak, I will say no +more until I have your permission.' + +This having been disdainfully granted, Marcian proceeded with seeming +timid boldness, marking in his listener's eyes the eager interest with +which she followed him. Though every detail of the story was of his own +invention, its plausibility had power upon one whose passions inclined +her to believe it. He told then that Muscula, bribed by Basil, was +secretly endeavouring to procure the release of Veranilda, which should +be made to appear an escape of Basil's contriving. The lover's visits +to Heliodora, he said, and his supposed ignorance as to where Veranilda +was detained, were part of the plot. Already Muscula had so far wrought +upon Bessas that success seemed within view, and Basil's departure from +Rome was only a pretence; he waited near at hand, ready to carry off +his beloved. + +'How come you to know all this?' Heliodora asked bluntly at the first +pause. + +'That also I will tell you,' answered Marcian. 'It is through some one +whom Muscula holds of more account than Bessas, and with whom she +schemes against him.' + +'By the Holy' Mother!' exclaimed Heliodora, 'that is yourself.' + +Marcian shook his head. + +'Not so, gracious lady.' + +'Nay, why should you scruple to confess it? You love Veranilda, and do +you think I could not pardon an intrigue which lay on your way to her?' + +'Nevertheless it is not I,' persisted the other gravely. + +'Be it so,' said Heliodora. 'And in all this, my good Marcian, what +part have I? How does it regard me? What do you seek of me?' + +Once more the man seemed overcome with confusion. + +'Indeed I scarce know,' he murmured. 'I hardly dare to think what was +in my mind when I sought you. I came to you, O Heliodora, as to one +before whom men bow, one whose beauty is resistless, whose wish is a +command. What gave me courage was a word that fell from Bessas himself +when I sat at table with him yesterday. "Wore I the purple," he said, +"Heliodora should be my Empress."' + +'Bessas said that?' + +'He did--and in the presence of Muscula, who heard it, I am bound to +say, with a sour visage.' + +Heliodora threw back her head and laughed. 'I think he has scarce seen +me thrice,' fell from her musingly. 'Tell him from me,' she added, +'that it is indiscreet to talk of wearing the purple before those who +may report his words.' + +There was a silence. Marcian appeared to brood, and Heliodora did her +best to read his face. If, she asked herself; he had told her +falsehoods, to what end had he contrived them? Nothing that she could +conjecture was for a moment satisfying. If he told the truth, what an +opportunity were here for revenge on Muscula, and for the frustration +of Basil's desire. + +How that revenge was to be wrought, or, putting it the other way, how +Marcian was to be helped, she saw as yet only in glimpses of ruthless +purpose. Of Bessas she did not think as of a man easy to subdue or to +cajole; his soldierly rudeness, the common gossip of his inconstancy in +love, and his well-known avarice, were not things likely to touch her +imagination, nor had she ever desired to number him in the circle of +her admirers. That it might be in her power to do what Marcian +besought, she was very willing to persuade herself, but the undertaking +had such colour of danger that she wished for more assurance of the +truth of what she had heard. + +'It seems to me,' she said at length, 'that the hour is of the latest. +What if Veranilda escape this very day?' + +'Some days must of necessity pass,' answered Marcian. 'The plot is not +so far advanced.' + +He rose hurriedly as if distracted by painful thoughts. + +'Noble lady, forgive me for thus urging you with my foolish sorrows. +You see how nearly I am distraught. If by any means you could aid me, +were it only so far as to withhold her I love from the arms of Basil--' + +So deep was Heliodora sunk in her thoughts that she allowed Marcian to +leave her without another word. He, having carried his machination thus +far, could only await the issue, counting securely on Heliodora's +passions and her ruthlessness. He had but taken the first step towards +the end for which he schemed; were this successful, with the result +that Heliodora used her charms upon the Greek commander, and, as might +well happen, obtained power over him, he could then proceed to the next +stage of his plot, which had a scope far beyond the loves of Basil and +Veranilda. That the Gothic maiden was really in the hands of Bessas he +did not believe; moreover, time had soothed his jealousy of Basil, and, +had he been able to further his friend's desire, he would now willingly +have done so; but he scrupled not to incur all manner of risks, for +himself and others, in pursuit of a great design. Marcian's convulsive +piety, like the religion of most men in his day, regarded only the +salvation of his soul from eternal torment, nor did he ever dream that +this would be imperilled by the treacheries in which his life was now +inured. + +Only a few hours after his departure, Heliodora, by means familiar to +her, had learnt that Marcian's confidential servant was a man named +Sagaris, a conceited and talkative fellow, given to boasting of his +light loves. Before sunset, Sagaris had received a mysterious message, +bidding him repair that night to a certain place of public resort upon +the Quirinal. He did so, was met by the same messenger, and bidden wait +under a portico. Before long there approached through the darkness a +muffled figure, followed by two attendants with lanterns; the Syrian +heard his name whispered; a light touch drew him further away from the +lantern-bearing slaves, and a woman's voice, low, caressing, began to +utter endearments and reproaches. Not to-night, it said, should he know +who she was; she could speak a name which would make his heart beat; +but he should not hear it until he had abandoned the unworthy woman +whose arts had won him. 'What woman?' asked Sagaris in astonishment. +And the answer was whispered, 'Muscula.' + +Now Muscula's name and position were well known to the Syrian. The +reproach of the mysterious fair one made him swell with pride; he +affected inability to deny the charge, and in the next breath declared +that Muscula was but his sport, that in truth he cared nothing for her, +he did but love her as he had loved women numberless, not only in Rome, +but in Alexandria, Antioch, Constantinople. The muffled lady gave a +deep sigh. Ah! and so it would be with _her_, were she weak enough to +yield to _her_ passion. Sagaris began to protest, to vow. + +'It is vain,' replied the amorous voice. 'Only in one way can you +convince me and win me.' + +'Oh, how?' + +'Let me hear that Muscula is dead.' + +Sagaris stood mute. A hand touched his shoulder, his hair; perfumes +loaded the air about him. + +'Tell me your name and it shall be done.' + +The warm mouth breathed against his cheek and a name was murmured. + +The second day after this saw an event in the Palatine which was matter +of talk for some two days more, and then passed into oblivion. Rumour +said that Muscula had been detected plotting against the life of +Bessas, that she had been examined under torture, found guilty, and +executed. Certain gossips pretended that there was no plot at all, but +that Bessas, weary of his mistress, had chosen this way of getting rid +of her. Be that as it might, Muscula was dead. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +LEANDER THE POLITIC + + +For most of his knowledge of private things that happened on the +Palatine--and little that went on in the household of Bessas escaped +him--Marcian depended upon his servant Sagaris. Exorbitant vanity and +vagrant loves made the Syrian rather a dangerous agent; but it was +largely owing to these weaknesses that he proved so serviceable. His +master had hitherto found him faithful, and no one could have worked +more cunningly and persistently when set to play the spy or worm for +secrets. Notwithstanding all his efforts, this man failed to discover +whether Veranilda had indeed passed into the guardianship of Bessas; +good reason in Marcian's view for believing that she was still detained +by Leander, and probably in some convent. But a rumour sprang up among +those who still took interest in the matter that some one writing from +Sicily professed to have seen the Gothic maiden on board a vessel which +touched there on its way to the East. This came to the ears of Marcian +on the day after his conversation with Heliodora. Whether it were true +or not he cared little, but he was disturbed by its having become +subject of talk at this moment, for Heliodora could not fail to hear +the story. + +The death of Muscula set him quivering with expectancy. That it +resulted from his plotting he could not be assured. Sagaris, who wore a +more than usually self-important air when speaking of the event, had +all manner of inconsistent reports on his tongue Not many days passed +before Marcian received a letter, worded like an ordinary invitation, +summoning him to the house on the Quirinal. + +He went at the third hour of the morning, and was this time led +upstairs to a long and wide gallery, which at one side looked down upon +the garden in the rear of the house, and at the other offered a view +over a great part of Rome. Here was an aviary, constructed of fine +lattice work in wood, over-trailed with creeping plants, large enough +to allow of Heliodora's entering and walking about among the multitude +of birds imprisoned. At this amusement Marcian found her. Upon her head +perched a little songster; on her shoulder nestled a dove; two +fledglings in the palm of her hand opened their beaks for food. Since +her last visit a bird had died, and Heliodora's eyes were still moist +from the tears she had shed over it. + +'You do not love birds,' she said, after gazing fixedly at Marcian a +moment through the trellis. + +'I never thought,' was the reply, 'whether I loved them or not.' + +'I had rather give my love to them than to any of mankind. They repay +it better.' + +She came forth, carefully closed the wicket behind her, and began to +pace in the gallery as though she were alone. Presently she stood to +gaze over the city spread before her, and her eyes rested upon the one +vast building--so it seemed--which covered the Palatine Hill. + +'Marcian!' + +He drew near. Without looking at him, her eyes still on the distance, +she said in an unimpassioned voice: + +'Did you lie to me, or were you yourself deceived?' + +'Lady, I know not of what you speak.' + +'You know well.' Her dark eyes flashed a glance of rebuke, and turned +scornfully away again. 'But it matters nothing. I sent for you to ask +what more you have to say.' + +Marcian affected surprise and embarrassment. + +'It was my hope, gracious lady, that some good news awaited me on your +lips. What can I say more than you have already heard from me?' + +'Be it so,' was the careless reply. 'I have nothing to tell you except +that Veranilda is not there.' She pointed towards the palace. 'And this +I have no doubt you know.' + +'Believe me, O Heliodora,' he exclaimed earnestly, 'I did not. I was +perhaps misled by--' + +Her eyes checked him. + +'By whom?' + +'By one who seemed to speak with honesty and assurance.' + +'Let us say, then, that you were misled; whether deceived or not, +concerns only yourself. And so, lord Marcian, having done what I can +for you, though it be little, I entreat your kind remembrance, and God +keep you.' + +Her manner had changed to formal courtesy, and, with this dismissal, +she moved away again. Marcian stood watching her for a moment, then +turned to look at the wide prospect. A minute or two passed; he heard +Heliodora's step approaching. + +'What keeps you here?' she asked coldly. + +'Lady, I am thinking.' + +'Of what?' + +'Of the day soon to come when Totila will be king in Rome.' + +Heliodora's countenance relaxed in a smile. + +'Yet you had nothing more to say to me,' she murmured in a significant +tone. + +'There were much to say, Heliodora, to one whom I knew my friend. I had +dared to think you so.' + +'What proof of friendship does your Amiability ask?' inquired the lady +with a half-mocking, half-earnest look. + +As if murmuring to himself, Marcian uttered the name 'Veranilda.' + +'They say she is far on the way to Constantinople,' said Heliodora. 'If +so, and if Bessas sent her, his craft is greater than I thought. For I +have spoken with him, and'--she smiled--'he seems sincere when he +denied all knowledge of the maiden.' + +Marcian still gazed at the distance. Again he spoke as if unconsciously +murmuring his thoughts: + +'Totila advances. In Campania but a few towns still await his conquest. +The Appian Way is open. Ere summer be past he will stand at the gates +of Rome.' + +'Rome is not easily taken,' let fall the listener, also speaking as +though absently. + +'It is more easily surrendered,' was the reply. + +'What! You suspect Bessas of treachery?' + +'We know him indolent and neglectful of duty. Does he not live here at +his ease, getting into his own hands, little by little, all the wealth +of the Romans, careless of what befall if only he may glut his avarice? +He will hold the city as long as may be, only because the city is his +possession. He is obstinate, bull-headed. Yet if one were found who +could persuade him that the cause of the Greeks is hopeless--that, by +holding out to the end, he will merely lose all, whereas, if he came to +terms--' + +Marcian was watching Heliodora's face. He paused. Their eyes met for an +instant. + +'Who can be assured,' asked Heliodora thoughtfully, 'that Totila will +triumph? They say the Patricius will come again.' + +'Too late. Not even Belisarius can undo the work of Alexandros and +these devouring captains. From end to end of Italy, the name of the +Greeks is abhorred; that of Totila is held in honour. He will renew the +kingdom of Theodoric.' + +Marcian saw straight before him the aim of all his intrigue. It was an +aim unselfish, patriotic. Though peril of the gravest lay in every word +he uttered, not this made him tremble, but the fear lest he had +miscalculated, counting too securely on his power to excite this +woman's imagination. For as yet her eye did not kindle. It might be +that she distrusted herself, having learnt already that Bessas was no +easy conquest. Or it might be that he himself was the subject of her +distrust. + +'What is it to _you_?' she suddenly asked, with a fierce gaze. 'Can the +Goth bring Veranilda back to Italy?' + +'I do not believe that she has gone.' + +Marcian had knowledge enough of women, and of Heliodora, to harp on a +personal desire rather than hint at high motive. But he was impelled by +the turmoil of his fears and hopes to excite passions larger than +jealousy. Throwing off all restraint, he spoke with hot eloquence of +all that might be gained by one who could persuade the Greek commander +to open the gates of Rome. Totila was renowned for his generosity, and +desired above all things to reconcile, rather than subdue, the Roman +people; scarce any reward would seem to him too great for service such +as helped this end. + +'Bessas lies before you. Ply your spells; make of him your creature; +then whisper in his ear such promise of infinite gold as will make his +liver melt. For _him_ the baser guerdon; for _you_, O Heliodora, all +the wishes of your noble heart, with power, power, power and glory +unspeakable!' + +Heliodora pondered. Then, without raising her head, she asked quietly: + +'You speak for the King?' + +'For the King,' was answered in like tone. + +'Come to me again, Marcian, when I have had time for thought.' + +With that they parted. On the same day, Sagaris was bidden as before to +a meeting after nightfall, and again he conversed with a lady whose +face was concealed from him. She began with a gentle reproof, for he +had ventured to present himself at her door, and to beg audience. Let +him be patient; his hour would come, but it must be when she chose. +Many questions did she put to him, all seeming to be prompted by +interest in the Gothic maiden of whom Sagaris had heard so much. With +the simplicity of inordinate conceit, he assured her that here she had +no ground for jealousy; Veranilda he had never beheld. Softly she +corrected his error; her interest in the maiden was a friendly one. +Only let him discover for her where Veranilda was concealed. Sagaris +was led to avow that in this very search he and his master had been +vainly occupied for many a day; it had carried them, he declared in a +whisper, even to the camp of King Totila. With this the questioner +appeared to be satisfied, and the Syrian was soon dismissed, promises +in a caressing voice his sole reward. + +When Marcian next held speech with Heliodora--it was after some +days--she bore herself more openly. In the course of their talk, he +learnt that she had consulted an astrologer, and with results wholly +favourable to his design. Not only had this man foretold to her that +Totila was destined to reign gloriously over the Italians for many +years, but he saw in Heliodora's own fate a mysterious link with that +of the triumphant king; her, under the Gothic conquest, great things +awaited. 'Do,' was his counsel, 'that which thou hast in mind.' Hearing +all this, Marcian's heart leaped with joy. He urged her to pursue their +end with all the speed that prudence permitted. For his own part, he +would make known to Totila as soon as might be the hope of his friends +in Rome. + +Again some days passed, and Marcian received one of those messages +which at times reached him from the Gothic king. Totila's bidding was +contained in a few words: Let Marcian seek speech with the deacon +Leander. Surprised, but having full confidence in the messenger, +Marcian presently wrote to the deacon in brief terms, saying that he +wished to converse with him regarding a certain heretic of whom he had +hopes. To this came prompt reply, which did not, however, invite +Marcian, as he had expected, to a meeting in private; but merely said +that, on the morrow, an hour after sunrise, Leander would be found in a +certain public place. + +Leander was busied just now in a matter peculiarly congenial to him, +the destruction of an ancient building in order to enrich with its +columns and precious marbles a new Christian church. At the hour +appointed, Marcian found him in the temple of Minerva Chalcidica, +directing workmen as to what they should remove; before him lay certain +mouldings in green porphyry (the precious _lapis Lacedaemonius_), which +had been carefully broken from their places, and he was regarding them +with the eye of a lover. For the first few minutes of their +conversation, Marcian felt mistrust, as the deacon appeared to have no +intelligence of any secret purpose in this meeting; but presently, +still gossiping of stones, Leander led him out of the temple and walked +in the shadowy public place beside the Pantheon. + +'That must be purified and consecrated,' he remarked, glancing from the +granite columns of Agrippa's porch to the bronze-tiled dome. 'Too long +it has been left to the demons.' + +Marcian, preoccupied as he was, listened with awe. Since the ravage of +the Vandals, no mortal had passed those vast doors, behind which all +the gods of heathendom, known now for devils, lurked in retreat. + +'I have urged it upon the Holy Father,' Leander added. 'But Vigilius is +all absorbed in the dogmatics of Byzantium. A frown of the Empress +Theodora is more to him than the glory of the Omnipotent and the weal +of Christendom.' + +The look which accompanied these words was the first hint to Marcian +that he might speak in confidence. He inquired whether the Pope, as was +reported, would shortly sail for Constantinople. + +'Before another week has passed,' was the reply, 'he will embark. He +would fain go forth'--a malicious smile was in the corner of Leander's +eye--'without leave-taking of his beloved people but that can scarce be +permitted.' + +'Ere he return,' said Marcian, 'things of moment may happen.' + +Again the deacon smiled. Seeing on the steps of the Pantheon a couple +of idlers playing at flash-finger, they turned aside to be out of +earshot. + +'We are agreed, it seems,' remarked Leander quickly, 'that there is +hope of the heretic. You had news of him yesterday? I, also. It may be +in my power to render him some service--presently, presently. +Meanwhile, what can you tell me of the lost maiden about whom there has +been so much talk? Is it true that Bessas has sent her to the East?' + +Marcian turned his eyes upon the speaker's face, and regarded him +fixedly with a half smile. For a moment the deacon appeared to be +unconscious of this; then he met the familiar look, averted his head +again, and said in the same tone as before: + +'The heretic, I learn, would gladly see her.' + +'It would be as well, I think,' was the reply, 'if his wish were +gratified.' + +'Ah? But how would that please a friend of yours, dear lord?' asked +Leander, with unaffected interest. + +Marcian's answer was in a tone of entire sincerity, very unlike that he +had used when speaking on this subject with Heliodora. + +'It might please him well or ill. The King'--he lowered his voice a +little--'would see with gladness this beautiful maiden of his own +people, sprung too from the royal blood, and would look with favour +upon those who delivered her in safety to him. Should he make her his +queen, and I believe she is worthy of that, the greater his gratitude +to those who prevented her marriage with a Roman. If, on the other +hand, he found that she could not forget her first lover, Totila is +large-hearted enough to yield her up in all honour, and politic enough +to see advantage in her union with the heir of the Anician house. +Between these things, Basil must take his chance. Had he carried off +his love, he would have wedded her in disregard of every danger; and so +long as it was only the Greeks that sought her, I should have done my +best to aid and to protect him. It is different now. Basil I hold +dearer than any friend; his place is in my very heart, and his +happiness is dearer to me than my own; but I cannot help him to +frustrate a desire of Totila. The King is noble; to serve him is to +promote the weal of Italy, for which he fights, and in which name he +will conquer.' + +The deacon had paused in his walk. He looked thoughtfully about him. At +this moment there came along the street an ox-drawn wagon, on which lay +the marble statue of a deity; Leander stepped up to it, examined the +marble, spoke with the men who were conveying it, and returned to +Marcian with a shake of the head. + +'It pains me to see such carven beauty burnt to lime. And yet how many +thousands of her worshippers are now burning in Gehenna. Lord Marcian,' +he resumed, 'you have spoken earnestly and well, and have given me good +proof of your sincerity. I think with you, and willingly would work +with you.' + +'Reverend, does no opportunity present itself?' + +'In this moment, none that I can see,' was the suave answer. + +'Yet I perceive that you have made some offer of service to the King.' + +'It is true; and perchance you shall hear more of it. Be not impatient; +great things are not hastily achieved.' + +With sundry other such remarks, so uttered that their triteness seemed +to become the maturity of wisdom, Leander brought the colloquy to an +end. It was his principle to trust no man unless he were assured of a +motive strong enough to make him trustworthy, and that motive he had +not yet discovered in Marcian. Nor, indeed, was he entirely sure of +himself; for though he had gone so far as to communicate with the +Gothic king, it was only in view of possibilities whose issue he still +awaited. If the Pope set forth for Constantinople, he would leave as +representative in Rome the deacon Pelagius, and from this brother +cleric Leander had already received certain glances, which were not to +be misunderstood. The moment might shortly come when he would need a +friend more powerful than any he had within the city. + +But Vigilius lingered, and Leander, save in his influence with the +irresolute Pontiff, postponed the step he had in view. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +PELAGIUS + + +Rome waited. It had been thought that the fall of Neapolis would be +followed by Totila's swift march along the Appian Way; but three months +had passed, and the Gothic king was but little nearer to the city. He +seemed resolved to leave nothing behind him that had not yielded to his +arms; slowly and surely his rule was being established over all the +South. Through the heats of summer, with pestilence still lurking in +her palaces and her dens, no fountain plashing where the sun blazed on +Forum and on street, Rome waited. + +In June Bessas was joined by another of the Greek commanders, Joannes, +famed for his ferocity, and nicknamed the Devourer. A show of activity +in the garrison resulted from this arrival; soldiers were set to work +upon parts of the city wall which needed strengthening; the Romans +began to make ready for a siege; and some, remembering the horrors of a +few years ago, took to flight. There was much talk of a conspiracy to +open the gates to Totila; one or two senators were imprisoned, and a +few Arian priests who still dwelt in Rome were sentenced to banishment. +But when, after a few weeks, Joannes and his troop marched northward, +commotion ceased; Bessas fell back into the life of indolent rapacity, +work on the walls was soon neglected, and Rome found that she had still +only to wait. + +About this time Marcian fell sick. He had suffered much from +disappointment of high hopes, neither Heliodora nor Leander aiding his +schemes as he expected. The constant danger in which he lived tried his +fortitude to the utmost, and at length he began to burn with fever. +Agonies came upon him, for even the slightest disorder in these +plague-stricken times filled men with fear. And whilst he lay thus +wretched, his servants scarce daring to attend upon him--Sagaris +refused to enter his chamber, and held himself ready for flight (with +all he could lay hands on) as soon as the physician should have uttered +the fatal word--whilst his brain was confused and his soul shaken with +even worse than the wonted terrors, there came to visit him the deacon +Pelagius. That the visit happened at this moment was mere chance, but +Pelagius, hearing of Marcian's condition, felt that he could not have +come more opportunely. A courageous man, strong in body as in mind, he +was not to be alarmed by mere talk of the pest; bidding the porter +conduct him, he came to Marcian's bedside, and there sat for half an +hour. When he went away, his handsome countenance wore a smile of +thoughtful satisfaction. + +As though this conversation had relieved him, the sick man at once +began to mend. But with his recovery came another torment. Lying in +fear of death and hell, he had opened his soul to Pelagius, and had +revealed secrets upon which depended all he cared for in this world. +Not only he himself was ruined, but the lives of those he had betrayed +were in jeopardy. That suspicion was busy with him he knew; the +keen-sighted deacon had once already held long talk with him, whereupon +followed troublesome interrogation by Bessas, who had since regarded +him with somewhat a sullen eye. How would Pelagius use the knowledge he +had gained? Even when quite recovered from the fever, Marcian did not +venture to go forth, lest an enemy should be waiting for him without. +In his weak, dejected and humbled state he thought of the peace of a +monastery, and passed most of his time in prayer. + +But when a few days had passed without event, and increasing strength +enabled him to think less brain-sickly, he began to ask whether he +himself had not peradventure been betrayed It was a long time since he +had seen Heliodora, who appeared to be making no effort for the +conquest of the Greek commander; had she merely failed, and lost +courage, or did the change in her mean treachery? To trust Heliodora +was to take a fool's risk; even a little wound to her vanity might +suffice to turn her against him. At their last meeting she had sat with +furrowed brows, brooding as if over some wrong, and when he urged her +for an explanation of her mood, she was first petulant, then fiery, so +that he took umbrage and left her. Happily she knew none of his graver +secrets, much though she had tried to discover them. Were she +traitorous, she could betray him alone. + +But he, in the wreck of his manhood, had uttered many names besides +hers--that of Basil, from whom he had recently heard news, that of the +politic Leander, those of several nobles engaged in the Gothic cause. +Scarcely could he believe that he had been guilty of such baseness; he +would fain have persuaded himself that it was but a memory of delirium. +He cursed the subtlety of Pelagius, which had led him on till +everything was uttered. Pelagius, the bosom friend of Justinian, would +know how to deal with plotters against the Empire. Why had he not +already struck? What cunning held his hand? + +Unable at length to sit in idleness, he tried to ease his conscience by +sending a warning to Basil, using for this purpose the trustworthy +slave who, in many disguises, was wont to travel with his secret +messages. This man wore false hair so well fixed upon his head that it +could not attract attention; the letter he had to deliver was laid +beneath an artificial scalp. + +'Be on your guard,' thus Marcian wrote. 'Some one has made known to the +Greeks that you are arming men, and for what purpose. Delay no longer +than you must in joining the King. In him is your only hope, if hope +there still can be. I, too, shall soon be in the camp.' + +These last words were for his friend's encouragement. As soon as the +letter had been despatched, he went forth about Rome in his usual way, +spoke with many persons, and returned home unscathed. Plainly, then, he +was to be left at liberty yet awhile; Pelagius had purposes to serve. +Next day, he betook himself to the Palatine; Bessas received him with +bluff friendliness, joked about his escape from death (for every one +believed that he had had the plague), and showed no sign of the +mistrust which had marked their last meeting. In gossip with certain +Romans who were wont to hang about the commander, flattering and +fawning upon him for their base advantage, he learnt that no one had +yet succeeded to the place left vacant by the hapless Muscula; only in +casual amours, generally of the ignoblest, did Bessas bestow his +affections. Of Heliodora there was no talk. + +Another day he passed in sauntering; nothing that he could perceive in +those with whom he talked gave hint of menace to his safety. Then, +early the next morning, he turned his steps to the Quirinal. As usual, +he was straightway admitted to Heliodora's house, but had to wait +awhile until the lady could receive him. Gloomily thoughtful, standing +with eyes fixed upon those of the great bust of Berenice, he was +startled by a sudden cry from within the house, the hoarse yell of a +man in agony; it was repeated, and became a long shriek, rising and +falling in terrible undulation. He had stepped forward to seek an +explanation, when Heliodora's eunuch smilingly came to meet him. + +'What is that?' asked Marcian, his nerves a-quiver. + +'The noble lady has ordered a slave to be punished,' was the cheerful +reply. + +'What is his fault?' + +'Illustrious, I know not,' answered the eunuch more gravely. + +The fearful sounds still continuing, Marcian turned as though to hurry +away; but the eunuch, following, implored him not to go, for his +departure would but increase Heliodora's wrath. So for a few more +minutes he endured the horror of that unbroken yell. When it ceased, he +could hear his heart beating. + +Summoned at length to the lady's presence, he found her lying in the +chamber of the Hermaphrodite. A strange odour floated in the air, +overcoming that of wonted perfumes. + +Faint with a sudden nausea, Marcian performed no courtesy, but stood +regarding the living woman much as he had gazed at the face in marble, +absent and sombre-browed. + +'What now?' were Heliodora's first words, her smile fading in +displeasure. + +'Must we needs converse in your torture-chamber?' asked Marcian. + +'Are your senses more delicate than mine?' + +'It seems so. I could wish I had chosen another hour for visiting you.' + +'It was well chosen,' said Heliodora, regarding him fixedly. 'This +slave I have chastised, shall I tell you of what he was guilty? He has +a blabbing tongue.' + +'I see not how that concerns me,' was his cold reply, as he met her +look with steady indifference. + +From her lounging attitude Heliodora changed suddenly to one in which, +whilst seated, she bent forward as though about to spring at him. + +'How comes it that Bessas knows every word that has passed between us?' +broke fiercely from her lips. + +In an instant Marcian commanded himself, shrugged his shoulders, and +laughed. + +'That is a question,' he said, 'to put to your astrologer, your +oneirocritic, your genethliac. I profess not to read mysteries.' + +'Liar!' she shot out. 'How could he have had it but from your own lips?' + +Marcian betook himself to his utmost dissimulation, and the talk of the +next few minutes--on his part, deliberately provocative; on hers, +recklessly vehement--instructed him in much that he had desired to +learn. It was made clear to him that a long combat of wills and desires +had been in progress between the crafty courtesan and the half wily and +the half brutal soldier, with a baffling of Heliodora's devices which +would never have come to his knowledge but for this outbreak of rage. +How far the woman had gone in her lures, whether she had played her +last stake, he could not even now determine; but he suspected that only +such supreme defeat could account for the fury in which he beheld her. +Bessas, having (as was evident) heard the secret from Pelagius, might +perchance have played the part of a lover vanquished by his passions, +and then, after winning his end by pretence of treachery to the +Emperor, had broken into scoffing revelation. That were a triumph after +the Thracian's heart. Having read thus far in the past, Marcian had to +turn anxious thought upon the future, for his position of seeming +security could not long continue. He bent himself to allay the wrath he +had excited. Falling of a sudden into a show of profound distress, he +kept silence for a little, then murmured bitterly: + +'I see what has happened. When the fever was upon me, my mind wandered, +and I talked.' + +So convincing was the face, the tone, so plausible the explanation, +that Heliodora drew slowly back, her fury all but quenched. She +questioned him as to the likely betrayer, and the name of Sagaris +having been mentioned, used the opportunity to learn what she could +concerning the man. + +'I cannot promise to give him up to you to be tortured,' said Marcian, +with his characteristic smile of irony. + +'That I do not ask. But,' she added significantly, 'will you send him +here, and let me use gentler ways of discovering what I can?' + +'That, willingly.' + +And when Marcian went away, he reflected that all was not yet lost. For +Heliodora still had faith in the prophecy of her astrologer; she was +more resolute than ever in her resolve to triumph over Bessas; she +could gain nothing to this end by helping her confederate's ruin. +Before parting, they had agreed that Marcian would do well to affect +ignorance of the discovery Bessas had made; time and events must +instruct them as to the projects of their enemies, and guide their own +course. + +That same day, he despatched the Syrian with a letter to Heliodora, and +on the man's return spoke with him as if carelessly of his commission. +He remarked that the face of Sagaris shone as though exultantly, but no +indiscreet word dropped from the vaunter's lips. A useful fellow, +murmured Marcian within himself, and smiled contempt. + +Another day or two of indecision, then in obedience to an impulse he +could no longer resist, he sought speech with the deacon Pelagius. Not +without trouble was this obtained, for Pelagius was at all times busy, +always beset by suitors of every degree, the Romans holding him in high +reverence, and making their appeals to him rather than to the Pope, for +whom few had a good word. When at last Marcian was admitted to the +deacon's presence, he found himself disconcerted by the long, silent +scrutiny of eyes deep read in the souls of men. No word would reach his +lips. + +'I have been expecting you,' said the deacon at length, gravely, but +without severity. 'You have made no haste to come.' + +'Most reverend,' replied Marcian, in a tone of the deepest reproach, 'I +knew not certainly whether I had indeed made confession to you, or if +it was but a dream of fever.' + +Pelagius smiled. He was standing by a table, and his hand lay upon an +open volume. + +'You are of noble blood, lord Marcian,' he continued, 'and the +greatness of your ancestors is not unknown to you. Tell me by what +motive you have been induced to play the traitor against Rome. I cannot +think it was for the gain that perishes. Rather would I suppose you +misled by the opinion of Cassiodorus, whose politics were as unsound as +his theology. I read here, in his treatise _De Anima_, that there is +neither bliss nor torment for the soul before the great Day of +Judgment--a flagrant heresy, in utter contradiction of the Scriptures, +and long ago refuted by the holy Augustine. Can you trust in worldly +matters one who is so blinded to the clearest truths of eternity?' + +'I confess,' murmured the listener, 'that I thought him justified in +his support of the Gothic kingdom.' + +'You are content, then, you whose ancestors have sat in the Senate, to +be ruled by barbarians? You, a Catholic, revolt not against the +dominions of Arians? And so little is your foresight, your speculation, +that you dream of permanent conquest of Italy by this leader of a +barbaric horde? I tell you, lord Marcian, that ere another twelvemonth +has passed, the Goths will be defeated, scattered, lost. The Emperor is +preparing a great army, and before the end of summer Belisarius will +again land on our shores. Think you Totila can stand against him? Be +warned; consider with yourself. Because your confession had indeed +something of sickness in it, I have forborne to use it against you as +another might have done. But not with impunity can you resume your +traitorous practices; of that be assured.' + +He paused, looking sternly into Marcian's face. + +'I have no leisure to debate with you, to confute your errors. One +thing only will I add, before dismissing you to ponder what I have +uttered. It is in your power to prove your return to reason and the +dignity of a Roman; I need not say how; the occasion will surely ere +long present itself, and leave you in no doubt as to my meaning. +Remember, then, how I have dealt with you; remember, also, that no such +indulgence will be granted to a renewal of your crime against Rome, +your sin against God.' + +Marcian dropped to his knees; there was a moment of silence; then he +arose and went forth. + +A week passed, and there came the festival of St. Laurentius. All Rome +streamed out to the basilica beyond the Tiburtine Gate, and among those +who prayed most fervently at the shrine was Marcian. He besought +guidance in an anguish of doubt. Not long ago, in the early days of +summer, carnal temptation had once more overcome him, and the +sufferings, the perils, of this last month he attributed to that lapse +from purity. His illness was perhaps caused by excess of rigour in +penitence. To-day he prayed with many tears that the Roman martyr would +enlighten him, and make him understand his duty to Rome. + +As he was leaving the church, a hand touched him; he turned, and beheld +the deacon Leander, who led him apart. + +'It is well that I have met you,' said the cleric, with less than his +usual bland deliberation. 'A messenger is at your house to bid you come +to me this evening. Can you leave Rome to-morrow?' + +'On what mission?' + +Leander pursed his lips for a moment, rolled his eyes hither and +thither, and said with a cautious smile: + +'That for which you have been waiting.' + +With difficulty Marcian dissembled his agitation. Was this the saint's +reply to his prayer? Or was it a temptation of the Evil Power, which it +behoved him to resist? + +'I am ready,' he said, off-hand. + +'You will be alone for the first day's journey, and in the evening you +will be met by such attendants as safety demands. Do you willingly +undertake the charge? Or is there some new danger which you had not +foreseen?' + +'There is none,' replied Marcian, 'and I undertake the charge right +willingly.' + +'Come to me, then, at sunset. The travel is planned in every detail, +and the letters ready. What follower goes with you?' + +'The same as always--Sagaris.' + +'Confide nothing to him until you are far from Rome. Better if you need +not even then.' + +Leander broke off the conference, and walked away at a step quicker +than his wont. But Marcian, after lingering awhile in troubled thought, +returned to the martyr's grave. Long he remained upon his knees, the +conflict within him so violent that he could scarce find coherent words +of prayer. Meanwhile the August sky had clouded, and thunder was +beginning to roll. As he went forth again, a flash of lightning dazzled +him. He saw that it was on the left hand, and took courage to follow +the purpose that had shaped in his thoughts. + +That evening, after an hour's close colloquy with Leander, he betook +himself by circuitous way to the dwelling of Pelagius, and with him +again held long talk. Then went home, through the dark, still streets, +to such slumber as his conscience might permit. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +THE PRISONER OF PRAENESTE + + +On the morrow of St. Laurentius, at that point of dawn when a man can +recognise the face of one who passes, there issued from the Lateran a +silent company equipped for travel. In a covered carriage drawn by two +horses sat the Pope, beside him a churchman of his household; a second +carriage conveyed the deacon Leander and another ecclesiastic; servants +and a baggage vehicle brought up the rear. With what speed it could +over the ill-paved roads, this procession made for the bank of the +Tiber below the Aventine, where, hard by the empty public granaries, a +ship lay ready to drop down stream. It was a flight rather than a +departure. Having at length made up his mind to obey the Emperor's +summons, Vigilius endeavoured to steal away whilst the Romans slept off +their day of festival. But he was not suffered to escape thus. Before +he had reached the place of embarkation, folk began to run shouting +behind his carriage. Ere he could set foot on board the vessel a crowd +had gathered. The farewell of the people to their supreme Pontiff was +given in a volley of stones and potsherds, whilst the air rang with +maledictions. + +Notwithstanding his secret hostility, Leander had of late crept into +Vigilius' confidence, thus protecting himself against his formidable +adversary Pelagius. He was now the Pope's travelling companion as far +as Sicily. Had he remained in Rome, the authority of Pelagius would +have fallen heavily upon him, and he could scarce have escaped the +humiliation of yielding his Gothic captive to Justinian's friend. +Apprised only a day before of Vigilius' purpose, he had barely time to +plot with Marcian for the conveyance of Veranilda to Totila's camp. +This had long been his intention, for, convinced that Totila would rule +over Italy, he saw in the favour of the king not only a personal +advantage, but the hope of the Western Church in its struggle with +Byzantium. Driven at length to act hurriedly, he persuaded himself that +he could use no better agent than Marcian, who had so deeply pledged +himself to the Gothic cause. Of what had passed between Marcian and +Pelagius he of course knew nothing. So, as the ship moved seaward upon +tawny Tiber, and day flamed upon the Alban hills, Leander laughed +within himself. He enjoyed a plot for its own sake, and a plot, long +savoured, which gave him triumph over ecclesiastical rivals, and even +over the Emperor Justinian, was well worth the little risk that might +ensue When he returned to Rome, it would doubtless be with the +victorious Goth--safe, jubilant, and ere long to be seated in the chair +of the Apostle. + +At the same hour Marcian was riding along the Praenestine Way, the +glory of summer sunrise straight before him. The thought most active in +his mind had nothing to do with the contest of nations or with the fate +of Rome: it was that on the morrow he should behold Veranilda. For a +long time he had ceased to think of her; her name came to his lips in +connection with artifice and intrigue, but the maiden herself had faded +into nothingness, no longer touched his imagination. He wondered at +that fantastic jealousy of Basil from which he had suffered. This +morning, the caress of the warm air, the scents wafted about him as he +rode over the great brown wilderness, revived his bygone mood. Again he +mused on that ideal loveliness which he attributed to the unseen +Veranilda For nearly a year she had been sought in vain by her lover, +by Greek commanders, by powerful churchmen; she had been made the +pretext of far-reaching plots and conspiracies; her name had excited +passions vehement and perilous, had been the cause of death. Now he was +at length to look upon her; nay, she was to pass into his guardianship, +and be by him delivered into the hands of the warrior king. Dreaming, +dreaming, he rode along the Praenestine Way. + +Though the personal dignity of Pelagius and the calm force of his +speech had awed and perturbed him, Marcian soon recovered his habitual +mind. He had thought and felt too deeply regarding public affairs to be +so easily converted from the cause for which he lived. A new treachery +was imposed upon him. When, after receiving all his instructions from +Leander, he went to see Pelagius, it was in order to secure his own +safety and the fulfilment of his secret mission by a seeming betrayal +of him he served. He knew that his every movement was watched; he could +not hope to leave Rome without being stopped and interrogated. If he +desired to carry out Leander's project--and he desired it the more +ardently the longer he reflected--his only course was this. Why did it +agitate him more than his treachery hitherto? Why did he shake and +perspire when he left Pelagius, after promising to bring Veranilda to +Rome? He knew not himself--unless it were due to a fear that he might +perform his promise. + +This fear it was, perhaps, which had filled his short sleep with dreams +now terrible, now luxurious. This fear it was which caught hold of him, +at length distinct and intelligible, when, on turning his head towards +the city soon after sunrise, he became aware of a group of horsemen +following him at a distance of half a mile or so. Thus had it been +agreed with Pelagius. The men were to follow him, without approaching, +to a certain point of his journey, then would close about him and his +attendants, who would be inferior in number, and carry them, with the +Gothic maiden, back to Rome. At the sight Marcian drew rein, and for a +moment sat in his saddle with bent head, suffering strangely. Sagaris +came up to his side, regarded him with anxious eye, and asked whether +the heat of the sun's rays incommoded him; whereupon he made a negative +sign and rode on. + +He tried to laugh. Had he forgotten the subtlety of his plot for +deceiving Pelagius? To have made known to the deacon where Veranilda +really was, would have been a grave fault in strategy. These armed +horsemen imagined that a two days' journey lay before them, whereas the +place of Veranildas imprisonment would be reached this evening. The +artifice he had elaborated was, to be sure, full of hazard; accident +might disconcert everything; the instruments upon whom he reckoned +might fail him. But not because of this possibility was his heart so +miserably perturbed. It was himself that he dreaded--the failure of his +own purpose, the treachery of his own will. + +On he rode in the full eye of the August sun. The vast, undulant plain +spread around him; its farms, villas, aqueducts no less eloquent of +death than the tombs by the wayside its still air and the cloudless +azure above speaking to a man's soul as with the voice of eternity. +Marcian was very sensible of such solemn influence. More than once, in +traversing this region, he had been moved to bow his head in devotion +purer than that which commonly inspired his prayers, but to-day he knew +not a moment's calm. All within him was turbid, subject to evil +thoughts. + +A little before noon he made his first halt. Amid the ruins of a +spacious villa two or three peasant families had their miserable home, +with a vineyard, a patch of tilled soil, and a flock of goats for their +sustenance. Here the travellers, sheltered from the fierce sun, ate of +the provisions they carried, and lay resting for a couple of hours. +Marcian did not speak with the peasants, but he heard the voice of a +woman loud in lamentation, and Sagaris told him that it was for the +death of a child, who, straying yesterday at nightfall, had been killed +by a wolf. Many hours had the mother wept and wailed, only interrupting +her grief to vilify and curse the saint to whose protection her little +one was confided. + +When he resumed his journey, Marcian kept glancing back until he again +caught sight of the company of horsemen; they continued to follow him +at the same distance. On he rode, the Alban hills at his right hand, +and before him, on its mountain side, the town for which he made. The +sun was yet far from setting when he reached Praeneste. Its great walls +and citadel towering on the height above told of ancient strength, and +many a noble building, within the city and without, monuments of glory +and luxury, resisted doom. Sulla's Temple of Fortune still looked down +upon its columned terraces, but behind the portico was a Christian +church, and where once abode the priests of the heathen sanctuary, the +Bishop of Praeneste had now his dwelling. Thither did Marcian +straightway betake himself. The bishop, a friend and ally of Leander, +received him with cordiality, and eagerly read the letter he brought. +Asked whether Vigilius had left Rome, Marcian was able to tell +something of the Pope's departure, having heard the story just before +his own setting forth; whereat the prelate, a man of jovial aspect, +laughed unrestrainedly. + +'To supper! to supper!' he exclaimed with hospitable note. 'Time enough +for our business afterwards.' + +But Marcian could not postpone what he had to say. Begging the bishop's +patience, he told how all day long he had been followed by certain +horsemen from Rome, who assuredly were sent to track him. His servant, +he added, was watching for their entrance into the town, and would +observe where they lodged. This, the bishop admitted, was a matter of +some gravity. + +'Your guard is ready,' he said. 'Six stout fellows on good horses. But +these pursuers outman you. Let me think, let me think.' + +Marcian had but to suggest his scheme. This was, to resume his journey +as soon as the townsfolk were all asleep, and travel through the night, +for there was a moon all but at the full. He might thus gain so much +advance of his pursuers that they would not be able to overtake him +before he came to the nearest outpost of the Gothic army. After +reflection, the bishop gave his approval to this project, and undertook +that all should be ready at the fitting hour. He himself would +accompany them to the gate of the town, and see them safely on their +way. To make surer, Marcian used another device. When he had learned +the quarters of the pursuing horsemen he sent Sagaris privily to speak +with their leader, warning him to be ready to ride at daybreak. Such a +message had of course nothing unexpected for its recipient, who looked +upon Marcian as secretly serving Pelagius. It put his mind at ease and +released him from the necessity of keeping a night watch. Sagaris, +totally ignorant of his master's mission, and of the plans that had +just been formed, imagined himself an intermediary in some plot between +Marcian and the leader of the horsemen, and performed the deceitful +office in all good faith. + +The bishop and his guest sat down to supper in an ancient room, of +which the floor was a mosaic representing an Egyptian landscape, with a +multitude of figures. Marcian would gladly have asked questions about +Veranilda; how long she had been at Praeneste, whether the lady Aurelia +was in the same convent, and many other things; but he did not venture +to make known how little he had enjoyed of Leander's confidence. His +reverend host spoke not at all on this subject, which evidently had no +interest for him, but abounded in inquiries as to the state of things +ecclesiastical at Rome. The supper was excellent; it pained the good +prelate that his guest seemed to have so poor an appetite. He vaunted +the quality of everything on the table, and was especially enthusiastic +about a wine of the south, very aromatic, which had come to him as a +present from his friend the Bishop of Rhegium, together with a certain +cheese of Sila, exquisite in thymy savour, whereof he ate with +prodigious gusto. + +It was about the third hour of the night when Sagaris, to his +astonishment, was aroused from a first sleep, and bidden prepare at +once for travel. Following his master and the bishop, who were not +otherwise attended, he passed through a garden to a postern, where, by +dim lantern light, he saw, in the street without, a small covered +carriage drawn by four mules, and behind it several men on horseback; +his master's horse and his own were also in readiness at the door. He +mounted, the carriage moved forward; and by a steep descent which +needed extreme caution, the gate of the city was soon reached. Here the +bishop, who had walked beside Marcian, spoke a word with two drowsy +watchmen sitting by the open gateway, bade his guest an affectionate +farewell, and stood watching for a few minutes whilst vehicle and +riders moved away in the moonlight. + +Finding himself well sped from Praeneste, where his pursuers lay sound +asleep, Marcian felt an extravagant joy; he could scarce command +himself to speak a few necessary words, in an ordinary tone, to the +leader of the guard with which he was provided; to shout, to sing, +would have better suited his mood. Why he thrilled with such exultancy +he could not have truly said; but a weight seemed to be lifted from his +mind, and he told himself that the relief was due to knowing that he +had done with treachery, done with double-dealing, done with the shame +and the peril of such a life as he had led for years. Never could he +return to Rome save with the Gothic King; in beguiling Pelagius, he had +thrown in his lot irrevocably with the enemies of the Greeks. Now he +would play the part of an honest man; his heart throbbed at the thought. + +But all this time his eyes were fixed upon the closed vehicle, behind +which he rode; and was it indeed the thought of having gained freedom +which made his heart so strangely beat? He pushed his horse as near as +possible to the carriage; he rode beside it; he stretched out his hand +and touched it. As soon as the nature of the road permitted, he gave an +order to make better speed, and his horse began to trot; he thought +less of the danger from which he was fleeing than of the place of rest +where Veranilda would step down from the carriage, and he would look +upon her face. + +Under the great white moon, the valley into which they were descending +lay revealed in every feature, and the road itself was as well +illumined as by daylight. On they sped, as fast as the mules could be +driven. Near or far sounded from time to time the howl of a wolf, +answered by the fierce bark of dogs in some farm or village; the +hooting of owls broke upon the stillness, or the pipe of toads from a +marshy hollow. By the wayside would be seen moving stealthily a dark +form, which the travellers knew to be a bear, but they met no human +being, nor anywhere saw the gleam of a light in human habitation. +Coming within view of some temple of the old religion, all crossed +themselves and murmured a prayer, for this was the hour when the +dethroned demons had power over the bodies and the souls of men. + +After a long descent they struck into the Via Latina, still in spite of +long neglect almost as good a road as when the legions marched over its +wheel-furrowed stones. If the information on which Leander had +calculated was correct, some three days' journey by this way would +bring them within reach of the Gothic king; but Marcian was now +debating with himself at what point he should quit the high road, so as +to make certain his escape, in case the Greek horsemen began a chase +early on the morrow. To the left lay a mountainous region, with byways +and little ancient towns, in old time the country of the Hernici; +beyond, a journey of two good days, flowed the river Liris, and there, +not far from the town of Arpinum, was Marcian's ancestral villa. Of +this he thought, as his horse trotted beside or behind the carriage. It +was much out of his way; surely there would be no need to go so far in +order to baffle pursuers. Yet still he thought of his villa, islanded +in the Liris, and seemed to hear through the night the music of +tumbling waters, and said within his heart, 'Could I not there lie +safe?' + +Safe?--from the Greeks, that is to say, if they persistently searched +for him. Safe, until a messenger could reach Totila, and let him know +that Veranilda was rescued. + +An hour after midnight, one of the mules' traces broke. In the silence +of the stoppage, whilst the driver was mending the harness as best he +could, Marcian alighted, stepped to the side of the vehicle, laid a +hand on the curtain which concealed those within, and spoke in a +subdued voice. + +'Is all well with you, lady?' + +'As well,' came the answer, 'as it can be with one who dreads her +unknown fate.' + +The soft accents made Marcian tremble. He expected to hear a sweet +voice, but this was sweeter far than he could have imagined: its +gentleness, its sadness, utterly overcame him, so that he all but wept +in his anguish of delight. + +'Have no fear,' he whispered eagerly. 'It is freedom that awaits you. I +am Marcian--Marcian, the friend of Basil.' + +There sounded a low cry of joy; then the two names were repeated, his +and that of his friend, and again Marcian quivered. + +'You will be no more afraid?' he said, as though laughingly. + +'Oh no! The Blessed Virgin be thanked!' + +An owl's long hoot wailed through the stillness, seeming to fill with +its infinite melancholy the great vault of moonlit heaven. In Marcian +it produced a sudden, unaccountable fear. Leaping on to his horse, he +cursed the driver for slowness. Another minute, and they were speeding +onward. + +Marcian watched anxiously the course of the silver orb above them. When +it began to descend seaward, the animals were showing signs of +weariness; before daybreak he must perforce call a halt. In +conversation with the leader of his guard, he told the reason of their +hasting on by night (known already to the horseman, a trusted follower +of the Bishop of Praeneste), and at length announced his resolve to +turn off the Latin Way into the mountains, with the view of gaining the +little town Aletrium, whence, he explained, they could cross the hills +to the valley of the Liris, and so descend again to the main road. It +was the man's business to obey; he let fall a few words, however, +concerning the dangers of the track; it was well known that bands of +marauders frequented this country, moving onward before the slow +advance of the Gothic troops. Marcian reflected, but none the less held +to his scheme. The beasts were urged along an upward way, which, just +about the setting of the moon, brought them to a poor village with a +little church. Marcian set himself to discover the priest, and, when +this good man was roused from slumber, spoke in his ear a word which +had great effect. With little delay stabling was found, and a place of +repose for Marcian's followers; he himself would rest under the +priest's roof, whither he conducted Veranilda and a woman servant who +sat with her in the carriage. The face which was so troubling his +imagination he did not yet see, for Veranilda kept the hood close about +her as she passed by candle light up steps to the comfortless and dirty +little chamber which was the best she could have. + +'Rest in peace,' whispered Marcian as the door closed. 'I guard you.' + +For an hour or more he sat talking with his host over a pitcher of +wine, found how far he was from Aletrium, and heard with satisfaction +that the brigand bands seemed to have gone higher into the mountains. +The presbyter asked eagerly for Roman news, and cautiously concerning +King Totila, whom it was evident he regarded with no very hostile +feeling. As the day broke he stretched himself on his host's bed, there +being no other for him, and there dozed for two or three hours, far too +agitated to enjoy a sound sleep. + +When he arose, he went forth into the already hot sunshine, looked at +the poor peasants' cottages, and talked with Sagaris, whose +half-smiling face seemed anxious to declare that he knew perfectly well +on what business they were engaged. At this hour, in all probability, +the horsemen of Pelagius were galloping along the Latin Way, in hope of +overtaking the fugitives. It seemed little likely that they would +search in this direction, and the chances were that they would turn +back when their horses got tired out. Of them, indeed, Marcian thought +but carelessly; his hard-set brows betokened another subject of +disquiet. Should he, after Aletrium, go down again to the Latin Way, or +should he push a few miles further to the valley of the Liris, and to +his own villa? + +To-day, being the first day of the week, there was a gathering to hear +mass. Marcian, though he had that in his mind which little accorded +with religious worship, felt himself drawn to the little church, and +knelt among the toil-worn folk. Here, as always when he heard the +liturgy, his heart melted, his soul was overcome with awe. From +earliest childhood he had cherished a peculiar love and reverence for +the Eucharistic prayer, which was associated with his noblest feelings, +his purest aspirations. As he heard it now, here amid the solitude of +the hills, it brought him help such as he needed. + +'Vere dignum et justum est, aequum et salutare, nos tibi semper et +ubique gratias agere, Domine sancte, Pater omnipotens, aeterne Deus.' + +When at the end he rose, these words were still resonant within him. He +turned to go forth, and there behind, also just risen from her knees, +stood a veiled woman, at the sight of whom he thrilled with +astonishment. No peasant she; for her attire, though but little +adorned, told of refinement, and the grace of her figure, the simple +dignity of her attitude, would alone have marked her out among the +girls and women who were leaving the church, their eyes all turned upon +her and on the female attendant standing respectfully near. Through the +veil which covered her face and hung about her shoulders, Marcian could +dimly discern lips and eyebrows. + +'Lord Marcian, may I speak with you?' + +It was the voice of last night, and again it shook him with an ecstasy +which had more of dread than of joy. + +'You here?' he replied, speaking very low. 'You have heard the mass?' + +'I am a Catholic. My religion is that of Basil.' + +'God be thanked!' broke from Marcian. And his exclamation meant more +than it conveyed to the listener. + +'May you tell me whither we are going?' was the next question from the +veiled lips. + +The church was now empty, but in the doorway appeared faces curiously +peering. Marcian looking in that direction seemed for a moment to find +no reply; his lips were parted, and his breath came rapidly; then he +whispered: + +'Not far from here there is a villa. There you shall rest in safety +until Basil comes.' + +'He is near?' + +'Already I have summoned him.' + +'O kind Marcian!' uttered the low, sweet voice. 'Oh, true and brave +friend!' + +In silence they walked together to the priest's house. Marcian had now +put off all irresolution. He gave orders to his guard; as soon as the +horses had sufficiently rested, they would push on for Aletrium, and +there pass the night. The start was made some two hours after noon. +Riding once more beside the carriage, Marcian felt his heart light: +passions and fears were all forgotten; the sun flaming amid the pale +blue sky, the violet shadows of the mountains, the voice of cicadas +made rapture to his senses. It was as though Veranilda's beauty, not +even yet beheld, rayed something of itself upon all the visible world. +Never had a summer's day shone so gloriously for him; never had he so +marked the hues of height and hollow, the shape of hills, the winding +of a stream. Where an ascent made the pace slow, he alighted, walked by +the vehicle, and exchanged a few words with her who sat behind the +curtain. + +At length Aletrium came in view, a little town in a strong position on +the mountain side, its walls and citadel built in old time, long unused +for defence, but resisting ages with their cyclopean force. On +arriving, they found a scene of disorder, misery and fear. This morning +the place had been attacked by a brigand horde, which had ravaged at +will: the church was robbed of its sacred vessels, the beasts of burden +were driven away, and, worst of all, wives and daughters of the +defenceless townsmen had suffered outrage. Marcian, with that air of +authority which he well knew how to assume, commanded the attendance of +the leading citizens and spoke with them in private. Finding them eager +for the arrival of the Goths, to whom they looked rather than to the +distant Greeks for protection against ruinous disorder (already they +had despatched messengers to Totila entreating his aid), he made known +to them that he was travelling to meet the Gothic outposts, and +promised to hasten the king's advance. At present, there seemed to be +no more danger, the marauders having gone on into the Apennines; so +Marcian obtained lodging for Veranilda and for himself in the priest's +house. Only when he was alone did he reflect upon the narrowness of his +escape from those fierce plunderers, and horror shook him. There +remained but half a day's journey to his villa. He was so impatient to +arrive there, and to dismiss the horsemen, that though utterly wearied, +he lay awake through many hours of darkness, hearing the footsteps of +men who patrolled the streets, and listening with anxious ear for any +sound of warning. + +He rose in the twilight, and again held conference with those of the +townsmen who were stoutest in the Gothic cause. To them he announced +that he should travel this day as far as Arpinum (whither he was +conducting a lady who desired to enter a convent hard by that city), +and thence should proceed in search of Totila, for whom, he assured his +hearers, he carried letters of summons from the leading churchmen at +Rome. This news greatly cheered the unhappy Aletrians, who had been +troubled by the thought that the Goths were heretics. If Roman +ecclesiastics closed their eyes to this obstacle, the inhabitants of a +little mountain town evidently need nurse no scruples in welcoming the +conqueror. With acclamations and good wishes, the crowd saw Marcian and +his train set forth along the road over the hills; before the sun had +shed its first beam into the westward valley, they had lost sight of +Aletrium. + +Not a word of the perils escaped had been allowed to reach Veranilda's +ear; exhausted by her journeying and her emotions, she had slept +soundly through the whole night, and this morning, when Marcian told +her how near was their destination, she laughed light-heartedly as a +child. But not yet had he looked upon her countenance. At Aletrium he +might have done so had he willed, but he withheld himself as if from a +dread temptation. + +Never had he known such tremours of cowardliness as on this ride over +the hills. He strained his eyes in every direction, and constantly +imagined an enemy where there was none. The brigands, as he found by +inquiry of labouring peasants, had not even passed this way. He would +not halt, though the heat of the sun grew terrible. At length, when +exhaustion threatened men and beasts, they surmounted a ridge, issued +from a forest of chestnut-trees, and all at once, but a little way +below them, saw the gleam of the river Liris. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +THE ISLAND IN THE LIRIS + + +Not yet the '_taciturnus amnis_,' which it becomes in the broad, +seaward valley far below, the Liris at this point parts into two +streams, enclosing a spacious island, and on either side of the island +leaps with sound and foam, a river kindred to the mountains which feed +its flood. Between the two cataracts, linked to the river banks with +great arched bridges, stood Marcian's villa. Never more than a modest +country house, during the last fifty years an almost total neglect had +made of the greater part an uninhabitable ruin. A score of slaves and +peasants looked after what remained of the dwelling and cultivated the +land attached to it, garden, oliveyard, vineyard, partly on the island, +partly beyond the river in the direction of Arpinum, which historic +city, now but sparsely peopled, showed on the hillside a few miles +away. Excepting his house in Rome, this was all the property that +Marcian possessed. It was dear to him because of the memories of his +childhood, and for another reason which sprang out of the depths of his +being: on the night after his mother's death (he was then a boy much +given to seeing visions) her spirit appeared to him, and foretold that +he too should die in this house 'at peace with God.' This phrase, on +which he had often brooded, Marcian understood to mean that he should +reach old age; and it had long been his settled intention to found in +the ruinous villa a little monastery, to which, when his work was over, +he could retire to pass the close of life. And now, as he rode down +behind the carriage, he was striving to keep his thought fixed on this +pious purpose. He resolved that he would not long delay. As soon as +Veranilda was safe, he would go on foot, as a pilgrim, to the monastery +at Casinum, which were but two or three days' journey, and speak of his +intention to the aged and most holy Benedict. Thus fortified, he rode +with bright visage down into the valley, and over the bridge, and so to +his own gate. + +The steward and the housekeeper, who were man and wife, speedily stood +before him, and he bade them make ready with all expedition certain +chambers long unoccupied, merely saying that a lady would for some days +be his guest. Whilst Sagaris guided the horsemen to the stables, and +received them hospitably in the servants' quarter, Marcian, using a +more formal courtesy than hitherto, conducted his charge into the great +hall, and begged her to be seated for a few minutes, until her room was +prepared. Seeing that fatigue scarce suffered her to reply, he at once +withdrew, leaving her alone with her handmaiden. And yet he had not +beheld Veranilda's face. + +Himself unable to take repose, he strayed about the purlieus of the +villa, in his ears the sound of rushing water, before his eyes a +flitting vision which he would not see. He had heard from his steward +the latest news of the countryside; it was said in Arpinum that the +Gothic forces were at length assembled for the march on Rome; at +Aquinum Totila would be welcomed, and what resistance was he likely to +meet with all along the Latin Way? When the horsemen had refreshed +themselves, Marcian summoned the leader; their services, he said, would +no longer be necessary; he bade them depart as early as might be on the +morrow, and bear with all speed to their lord the bishop an important +letter which he forthwith wrote and gave to the man, together with a +generous guerdon. This business despatched, he again wandered hither +and thither, incapable of rest, incapable of clear thought, fever in +his heart and in his brain. + +As the sun sank, fear once more beset him. This house lay open on all +sides, its only protection being a couple of dogs, which prowled at +large. He thought with dread of the possibility of a brigand attack. +But when night had fallen, when all lights except his own were +extinguished, when no sound struck against the deep monotone of the +cataracts, this emotion yielded before another, which no less harassed +his mind. In the hall, in the corridors, in the garden-court, he paced +ceaselessly, at times walking in utter darkness, for not yet had the +moon risen. When at length its rays fell upon the pillars of the upper +gallery where Veranilda slept, he stood looking towards her chamber, +and turned away at length with a wild gesture, like that of a demoniac +in torment. + +The man was torn between spiritual fervour and passions of the flesh. +With his aspiration to saintliness blended that love of his friend +which was the purest affection he had known in all the years of +manhood; yet this very love became, through evil thoughts, an +instrument against him, being sullied, poisoned by the basest spirit of +jealousy, until it seemed all but to have turned to hate. One moment he +felt himself capable of acting nobly, even as he had resolved when at +mass in the little mountain church; his bosom glowed with the defiance +of every risk; he would guard Veranilda secretly until he could lay her +hand in that of Basil. The next, he saw only danger, impossibility, in +such a purpose, and was anxious to deliver the beautiful maiden to the +king of her own race as soon as might be--lest worse befell. Thus did +he strive with himself, thus was he racked and rent under the glowing +moon. + +At dawn he slept. When he rose the horsemen had long since set forth on +their journey home. He inquired which road they had taken. But to this +no one had paid heed; he could only learn that they had crossed the +river by the westward bridge, and so perhaps had gone back by way of +Aletrium, instead of descending the valley to the Latin Way. Even yet +Marcian did not feel quite safe from his Greek pursuers. He feared a +meeting between them and the Praenestines. + +Having bathed (a luxury after waterless Rome), and eaten a morsel of +bread with a draught of his own wine, he called his housekeeper, and +bade her make known to the lady, his guest, that he begged permission +to wait upon her. With but a few minutes' delay Veranilda descended to +the room which lay behind the atrium. Marcian, loitering among the +ivied plane-trees without, was told of her coming, and at once entered. + +She was alone, standing at the back of the room; her hands hanging +linked before her, the lower part of the arms white against the folds +of a russet-coloured tunic. And Marcian beheld her face. + +He took a few rapid steps toward her, checked himself, bowed +profoundly, and said in a somewhat abrupt voice: + +'Gracious lady, is it by your own wish that you are unattended? Or have +my women, by long disuse, so forgotten their duties--' + +Veranilda interrupted him. + +'I assure you it was my own wish, lord Marcian. We must speak of things +which are not for others' hearing.' + +In the same unnatural voice, as though he put constraint upon himself +for the performance of a disagreeable duty, he begged her to be seated, +and Veranilda, not without betraying a slight trouble of surprise, took +the chair to which he pointed. But he himself did not sit down. In the +middle of the room stood a great bronze candelabrum, many-branched for +the suspension of lamps, at its base three figures, Pluto, Neptune, and +Proserpine. It was the only work of any value which the villa now +contained, and Marcian associated it with the memories of his earliest +years. As a little child he had often gazed at those three faces, awed +by their noble gravity, and, with a child's diffidence, he had never +ventured to ask what beings these were. He fixed his eyes upon them +now, to avoid looking at Veranilda. She, timidly glancing at him, said +in her soft, low voice, with the simplest sincerity: + +'I have not yet found words in which to thank you, lord Marcian.' + +'My thanks are due to you, dear lady, for gracing this poor house with +your presence.' + +His tone was more suavely courteous. For an instant he looked at her, +and his lips set themselves in something meant for a smile. + +'This is the end of our journey?' she asked. + +'For some days--if the place does not displease you.' + +'How could I be ill at ease in the house of Basil's friend, and with +the promise that Basil will soon come?' + +Marcian stared at the face of Proserpine, who seemed to regard him with +solemn thoughtfulness. + +'Had you any forewarning of your release from the monastery?' he asked +of a sudden. + +'None. None whatever.' + +'You thought you would remain there for long to come?' + +'I had not dared to think of that.' + +Marcian took a few paces, glanced at the sweet face, the beautiful head +with its long golden hair, and came back to his place by the +candelabrum, on which he rested a trembling hand. + +'Had they spoken of making you a nun?' + +A look of dread came upon her countenance, and she whispered, 'Once or +twice.' + +'You would never have consented?' + +'Only if I had known that release was hopeless, or that Basil--' + +Her voice failed. + +'That Basil--?' echoed Marcian's lips, in an undertone. + +'That he was dead.' + +'You never feared that he might have forgotten you?' + +Again his accents were so hard that Veranilda gazed at him in troubled +wonder. + +'You never feared that?' he added, with fugitive eyes. + +'Had I dreamt of it,' she replied, 'I think I should not live.' Then in +a voice of anxious humility, 'Could Basil forget me?' + +'Indeed, I should not think it easy,' murmured the other, his eyes cast +down. 'And what,' he continued abruptly, 'was said to you when you left +the convent? In what words did they take leave of you?' + +'With none at all. I was bidden prepare for a journey, and soon after +they led me to the gates. I knew nothing, nor did the woman with me.' + +'Was the lady Aurelia in the same convent?' Marcian next inquired. + +'I never saw her after we had landed from the ship which carried us +from Surrentum?' + +'You do not know, of course, that Petronilla is dead?' + +He told her of that, and of other events such as would interest her, +but without uttering the name of Basil. Above all, he spoke of Totila, +lauding the victorious king who would soon complete his triumph by the +conquest of Rome. + +'I had all but forgotten,' were Veranilda's words, when she had +listened anxiously. 'I thought only of Basil.' + +He turned abruptly from her, seemed to reflect for a moment, and said +with formal politeness: + +'Permit me now to leave you, lady. This house is yours. I would it +offered you worthier accommodation. As soon as I have news, I will +again come before you.' + +Veranilda rose whilst he was speaking. Her eyes were fixed upon him, +wistfully, almost pleadingly, and before he had reached the exit she +advanced a step, with lips parted as if to beseech his delay. But he +walked too hurriedly, and was gone ere she durst utter a word. + +At the same hurried pace, gazing before him and seeing nothing, Marcian +left the villa, and walked until he came to the river side. Here was a +jutting rock known as the Lover's Leap; story told of a noble maiden, +frenzied by unhappy love, who had cast herself into the roaring +waterfall. Long he stood on the brink, till his eyes dazzled from the +sun-stricken foam. His mind was blasted with shame; he could not hold +his head erect. In sorry effort to recover self-respect he reasoned +inwardly thus: + +'Where Basil may be I know not. If he is still at Asculum many days +must pass before a summons from me could bring him hither. He may +already be on his way to join the king, as I bade him in my last +message. The uncertainty, the danger of this situation, can be met only +in one way. On leaving Rome I saw my duty plain before me. A desire to +pleasure my friend made me waver, but I was wrong--if Basil is to have +Veranilda for his bride he can only receive her from the hands of +Totila. Anything else would mean peril to the friend I love, and +disrespect, even treachery, to the king I honour. And so it shall be; I +will torment myself no more.' + +He hastened back into the villa, summoned Sagaris, and bade him be +ready in half an hour to set forth on a journey of a day or two. He +then wrote a brief letter to the king of the Goths. It was in the +Gothic tongue, such Gothic as a few Romans could command for everyday +use. Herein he told that Veranilda, intrusted to him by the deacon +Leander to be conducted to the king's camp, had arrived in safety at +his villa by Arpinum. The country being disturbed, he had thought +better to wait here with his charge until he could learn the king's +pleasure, which he begged might be made known to him as soon as +possible. + +'This,' he said, when Sagaris appeared before him equipped for travel, +'you will deliver into the king's own hands. At Aquinum you will be +directed to his camp, which cannot be far beyond. Danger there is none +between here and there. Make your utmost speed.' + +Many were the confidential missions which Sagaris had discharged; yet, +looking now into his man's face, the master was troubled by a sudden +misgiving. The state of his own mind disposed him to see peril +everywhere. At another time he would not have noted so curiously a sort +of gleam in the Syrian's eye, a something on the fellow's cunning, +sensual lips, which might mean anything or nothing. Did Sagaris divine +who the veiled lady was? From the bishop's man he could not have +learned it, they themselves, as the bishop had assured Marcian, being +totally ignorant in the matter. If he guessed the truth, as was likely +enough after all the talk he had heard concerning Veranilda, was it a +danger? Had Sagaris any motive for treachery? + +'Listen,' continued Marcian, in a tone such as he had never before used +with his servant, a tone rather of entreaty than of command. 'Upon the +safe and swift delivery of that letter more depends than you can +imagine. You will not lack your reward. But not a word to any save the +king. Should any one else question you, you will say that you bear only +a verbal message, and that you come direct from Rome.' + +'My lord shall be obeyed,' answered the slave, 'though I die under +torture.' + +'Of that,' said Marcian, with a forced laugh, 'you need have no fear. +But, hark you!' He hesitated, again searching the man's countenance. +'You might chance to meet some friend of mine who would inquire after +me. No matter who it be--were it even the lord Basil--you will answer +in the same words, saying that I am still in Rome. You understand me? +Were it even lord Basil who asked?' + +'It shall be as my lord commands,' replied the slave, his face set in +unctuous solemnity. + +'Go, then. Lose not a moment.' + +Marcian watched him ride away in the blaze of the cloudless sun. The +man's head was sheltered with a broad-brimmed hat of the lightest felt, +and his horse's with a cluster of vine-leaves. He rode away at a quick +trot, the while dust rising in a cloud behind him. + +And Marcian lived through the day he knew not how. It was a day of +burning sunshine, of heat scarce tolerable even in places the most +sheltered. Clad only in a loose tunic, bare-armed, bare-footed, he lay +or sauntered wherever shade was dense, as far as possible from the part +of the villa consecrated to his guest. Hour after hour crawled by, an +eternity of distressful idleness. And, even while wishing for the day's +end, he dreaded the coming of the night. + +It came; the silent, lonely night, the warm, perfumed night, the season +of fierce temptations, of dreadful opportunity. Never had the +passionate soul of Marcian been so manifestly lured by the Evil One, +never had it fought so desperately in the strength of religious hopes +and fears. He knelt, he prayed, his voice breaking upon the stillness +with anguish of supplication. Between him and the celestial vision rose +that face which he had at length beheld, a face only the more +provocative of sensual rage because of its sweet purity, its flawless +truth. Then he flung himself upon the stones, bruised his limbs, lay at +length exhausted, as if lifeless. + +No longer could he strengthen himself by the thought of loyalty in +friendship; that he had renounced. Yet he strove to think of Basil, +and, in doing so, knew that he still loved him. For Basil he would do +anything, suffer anything, lose anything; but when he imaged Basil with +Veranilda, at once his love turned to spleen, a sullen madness +possessed him, he hated his friend to the death. + +By his own order, two watchmen stood below the stairs which led to +Veranilda's chamber. Nigh upon midnight he walked in that direction, +walked in barefooted stealth, listening for a movement, a voice. Nearer +and nearer he approached, till he saw at length the ray of a lantern; +but no step, no murmur, told of wakeful guard. Trembling as though with +cold, though sweat streamed over his body, he strode forward; there, +propped against the wall, sat the two slaves fast asleep. Marcian +glanced at the stairs; his face in the dim lantern light was that of a +devil. All of a sudden one of the men started, and opened his eyes. +Thereupon Marcian caught up a staff that lay beside them, and began to +belabour them both with savage blows. Fiercely, frantically, he plied +his weapon, until the delinquents, who had fallen to their knees before +him, roared for mercy. + +'Let me find you sleeping again,' he said in a low voice, 'and your +eyes shall be burnt out.' + +He stole away into the darkness, and the men whispered to each other +that he had gone mad. For Marcian was notably humane with his slaves, +never having been known even to inflict a whipping. Perhaps they were +even more astonished at this proof that their master seriously guarded +the privacy of his guest; last night they had slept for long hours +undisturbed, and, on waking, congratulated each other with familiar +jests on having done just what was expected of them. + +The morn broke dark and stormy. Thunder-clouds purpled before the +rising sun, and ere mid-day there fell torrents of rain. Heedless of +the sky, Marcian rode forth this morning; rode aimlessly about the +hills, for the villa was no longer endurable to him. He talked awhile +with a labouring serf, who told him that the plague had broken out in +Arpinum, where, during the last week or two, many had died. From his +steward he had already heard the same news, but without heeding it; it +now alarmed him, and for some hours fear had a wholesome effect upon +his thoughts. In the coolness following upon the storm, he enjoyed a +long, tranquil sleep. And this day he did not see Veranilda. + +A mile or two down the valley was a church, built by Marcian's +grandfather, on a spot where he had been saved from great peril; the +land attached to it supported two priests and certain acolytes, +together with a little colony of serfs. On his ride this morning +Marcian had passed within view of the church, and would have gone +thither but for his rain drenched clothing. Now, during the second +night of temptation, he resolved to visit the priests as soon as it was +day and to bring one of them back with him to the villa, to remain as +long as Veranilda should be there. Firm in this purpose he rose with +the rising sun, called for his horse, and rode to the bridge. There, +looking down at the white cataract, stood Veranilda and her attendant. + +He alighted. With a timid smile the maiden advanced to meet him. + +'Abroad so early?' were his first words, a mere tongue-found phrase. + +'I was tempted by the fresh morning. It does not displease you, lord +Marcian?' + +'Nay, I am glad.' + +'It is so long,' continued the gentle voice, 'since I was free to walk +under the open sky.' + +Marcian forgot that his gaze was fixed upon her, forgot that he was +silent, forgot the purpose with which he had ridden forth. + +'I hoped I might see you to-day,' she added. 'You have yet no news for +me?' + +'None.' + +The blue eyes drooped sadly. + +'To-morrow, perhaps,' she murmured. Then, with an effort to seem +cheerful, as if ashamed of her troubled thought, 'I had listened so +long to a sound of falling water that I could not resist the desire to +see it. How beautiful it is!' + +Marcian felt surprise; he himself saw the cataract as an object of +beauty, but had seldom heard it so spoken of, and could least of all +have expected such words on the lips of a woman, dread seeming to him +the more natural impression. + +'That on the other side,' he said, pointing across the island, 'is more +beautiful still. And there is shade, whilst here the sun grows too hot. +But you must not walk so far. My horse has a very even pace. If you +would let me lift you to the saddle--' + +'Oh, gladly!' she answered, with a little laugh of pleasure. + +And it was done. For a moment he held her, for a moment felt the warmth +and softness of her flesh; then she sat sideways upon the horse, +looking down at Marcian with startled gaiety. He showed her how to hold +the reins, and the horse went gently forward. + +'It makes me a child again,' she exclaimed. 'I have never ridden since +I was a little girl, when my father--' + +Her voice died away; her look was averted, and Marcian, remembering the +shame that mingled with her memories, began to talk of other things. + +By a path that circled the villa, they came to a little wood of ilex, +which shadowed the brink of the larger cataract. Marcian had bidden +Veranilda's woman follow them, but as they entered the wood, his +companion looking eagerly before her, he turned and made a gesture of +dismissal, which the servant at once obeyed. In the shadiest spot which +offered a view of the plunging river, he asked Veranilda if she would +alight. + +'Willingly, I would spend an hour here,' she replied. 'The leafage and +the water make such a delightful freshness.' + +'I have anticipated your thought,' said Marcian. 'The woman is gone to +bid them bring seats.' + +Veranilda glanced back in surprise and saw that they were alone. She +thanked him winsomely, and then, simply as before, accepted his help. +Again Marcian held her an instant, her slim, light body trembling when +he set her down, as if from a burden which strained his utmost force. +She stepped forward to gaze at the fall. He, with an exclamation of +alarm, caught her hand and held it. + +'You are too rash,' he said in a thick voice. 'The depth, the roar of +the waters, will daze you.' + +Against his burning palm, her hand was cool as a lily leaf. He did not +release it, though he knew that _his_ peril from that maidenly touch +was greater far than hers from the gulf before them. Veranilda, +accepting his protection with the thoughtlessness of a child, leaned +forward, uttering her wonder and her admiration. He, the while, watched +her lips, fed his eyes upon her cheek, her neck, the golden ripples of +her hair. At length she gently offered to draw her hand away. A frenzy +urged him to resist, but madness yielded to cunning, and he released +her. + +'Of course Basil has been here,' she was saying. + +'Never.' + +'Never? Oh, the joy of showing him this when he comes! Lord Marcian, +you do not think it will be long?' + +Her eyes seemed as though they would read in the depth of his; again +the look of troubled wonder rose to her countenance. + +'It will not be more than a few days?' she added, in a timid undertone, +scarce audible upon the water's deeper note. + +'I fear it may be longer,' replied Marcian. + +He heard his own accents as those of another man. He, his very self, +willed the utterance of certain words, kind, hopeful, honest; but +something else within him commanded his tongue, and, ere he knew it, he +had added: + +'You have never thought that Basil might forget you?' + +Veranilda quivered as though she had been struck. + +'Why do you again ask me that question?' she said gently, but no longer +timidly. 'Why do you look at me so? Surely,' her voice sank, 'you could +not have let me feel so happy if Basil were dead?' + +'He lives.' + +'Then why do you look so strangely at me? Ah, he is a prisoner?' + +'Not so. No man's liberty is less in danger.' + +She clasped her hands before her. 'You make me suffer. I was so light +of heart, and now--your eyes, your silence. Oh, speak, lord Marcian!' + +'I have hidden the truth so long because I knew not how to utter it. +Veranilda, Basil is false to you.' + +Her hands fell; her eyes grew wider in wonder. She seemed not to +understand what she had heard, and to be troubled by incomprehension +rather than by a shock of pain. + +'False to me?' she murmured. 'How false?' + +'He loves another woman, and for her sake has turned to the Greeks.' + +Still Veranilda gazed wonderingly. + +'Things have come to pass of which you know nothing,' pursued Marcian, +forcing his voice to a subdued evenness, a sad gravity. 'Listen whilst +I tell you all. Had you remained but a few days longer at Cumae, you +would have been seized by the Greeks and sent to Constantinople; for +the Emperor Justinian himself had given this command. You came to +Surrentum; you plighted troth with Basil; he would have wedded you, +and--not only for safety's sake, but because he wished well to the +Goths--would have sought the friendship of Totila. But you were carried +away; vainly we searched for you; we feared you had been delivered to +the Greeks. In Rome, Basil was tempted by a woman, whom he had loved +before ever he saw you, a woman beautiful, but evil hearted, her name +Heliodora. She won him back to her; she made him faithless to you and +to the cause of the Goths. Little by little, I learnt how far he had +gone in treachery. He had discovered where you were, but no longer +desired to release you that you might become his wife. To satisfy the +jealousy of Heliodora, and at the same time to please the Greek +commander in Rome, he plotted to convey you to Constantinople. I having +discovered this plot, found a way to defeat it. You escaped but +narrowly. When I carried you away from Praeneste, pursuers were close +behind us, therefore it was that we travelled through the night. Here +you are in safety, for King Totila is close at hand, and will guard you +against your enemies.' + +Veranilda pressed her hands upon her forehead, and stood mute. As his +eyes shifted furtively about her, Marcian caught sight of something +black and undulant stirring among stones near her feet; at once he +grasped her by the arm, and drew her towards him. + +'A viper!' he exclaimed, pointing. + +'What of that?' was her reply, with a careless glance. 'I would not +stir a step to escape its fangs.' + +And, burying her face in her hands, she wept. + +These tears, this attitude of bewildered grief, were Marcian's +encouragement. He had dreaded the innocence of her eyes lest it should +turn to distrust and rejection. Had she refused to believe him, he knew +not how he would have persisted in his villainy; for, even in +concluding his story, it seemed to him that he must betray himself; so +perfidious sounded to him the voice which he could hardly believe his +own, and so slinking-knavish did he feel the posture of his body, the +movements of his limbs. The distress which should have smitten him to +the heart restored his baser courage. Again he spoke with the sad +gravity of a sympathetic friend. + +'Dearest lady, I cannot bid you be comforted, but I entreat you to +pardon me, the hapless revealer of your misfortune. Say only that you +forgive me.' + +'What is there to forgive?' she answered, checking her all but silent +sobs. 'You have told what it behoved you to tell. And it may be'--her +look changed of a sudden--'that I am too hasty in embracing sorrow. How +can I believe that Basil has done this? Are you not misled by some +false suspicion? Has not some enemy slandered him to you? What can you +say to make me credit a thing so evil?' + +'Alas! It were but too easy for me to lengthen a tale which all but +choked me in the telling; I could name others who know, but to you they +would be only names. That of Heliodora, had you lived in Rome, were +more than enough.' + +'You say he loved her before?' + +'He did, dear lady, and when her husband was yet living. Now that he is +dead--' + +'Have you yet told me all?' asked Veranilda, gazing fixedly at him. +'Has he married her?' + +'Not yet--I think.' + +Again she bowed her head. For a moment her tears fell silently, then +she looked up once more fighting against her anguish. + +'It cannot be true that he would have given me to the Greeks; that he +may have forgotten me, that he may have turned to another love, I can +perhaps believe--for what am I that Basil should love me? But to scheme +my injury, to deliver me to our enemies--Oh, you are deceived, you are +deceived!' + +Marcian was silent, with eyes cast down. In the branches, cicadas +trilled their monotone. The viper, which had been startled away, again +showed its lithe blackness among the stones behind Veranilda, and +Marcian, catching sight of it, again touched her arm. + +'The snake! Come away from this place.' + +Veranilda drew her arm back as if his touch stung her. + +'I will go,' she said. 'I must be alone--my thoughts are in such +confusion I know not what I say.' + +'Say but one word,' he pleaded. 'Having rescued you, I knew not how to +provide for your security save under ward of the king. Totila is noble +and merciful; all Italy will soon be his, and the Gothic rule be +re-established. Assure me that I have done well and wisely.' + +'I hope you have,' answered Veranilda, regarding him for an instant. +'But I know nothing; I must bear what befalls. Let me go to my chamber, +lord Marcian, and sit alone and think.' + +He led her back into the villa, and they parted without another word. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +THE BETRAYER BETRAYED + + +Sagaris, making his best speed, soon arrived at Aquinum. He and his +horse were bathed in sweat; the shelter of an inn, where he had dinner, +tempted him to linger more than he need have done, and the fierce sun +was already declining when he rode forth along the Latin Way. As yet he +had seen no Goths. Every one talked of Totila, but he had a difficulty +in ascertaining where at this moment the king was to be found; some +declared he was as near as Venafrum, others that he lay much further +down the valley of the Vulturnus. Arrived at Venafrum, the messenger +learnt that he could not have less than another whole day's journey +before him, so here be harboured for the night. + +His wily and unscrupulous mind had all day long been busy with +speculations as to the errand on which he was sent. Knowing that his +master wrote to Goths in the Gothic tongue, he was spared temptation to +break open the letter he carried; otherwise he would assuredly have +done so, for the hatred which Sagaris naturally felt for any one in +authority over him was now envenomed by jealousy, and for the last +month or two he had only waited an opportunity of injuring Marcian and +of advancing, by the same stroke, his own fortunes. + +Having started from Rome in ignorance of his master's purpose, the +events of the night at Praeneste at once suggested to him the name of +the person who was being so cautiously and hurriedly conveyed under +Marcian's guard, and by the end of the journey he had no doubt left. +Here, at last, was the Gothic maiden who had been sought so +persistently by Marcian, by Basil, by Bessas, by Heliodora, and +doubtless by many others, since her disappearance from Surrentum. +Whither was she now being conducted? Sagaris did not know that among +her seekers was King Totila himself; on the other hand, he had much +reason for suspecting that Marcian pursued Veranilda with a lover's +passion, and when the journey ended at the island villa, when the +convoy of horsemen was dismissed, when he himself was sent off to a +distance, he saw his suspicion confirmed. By some supreme subtlety, +Marcian had got the beautiful maiden into his power, and doubtless the +letter he was sending to Totila contained some device for the +concealing of what had happened. + +Now to the Syrian this would have been a matter of indifference, but +for his secret communications with Heliodora and all that had resulted +therefrom. Heliodora's talk was of three persons--of Marcian, of Basil, +of Veranilda--and Sagaris, reasoning from all the gossip he had heard, +and from all he certainly knew, concluded that the Greek lady had once +loved Basil, but did so no more, that her love had turned to Marcian, +and that she either knew or suspected Marcian to be a rival of Basil +for the love of Veranilda. Thus had matters stood (he persuaded +himself) until his own entrance on the scene. That a woman might look +with ardent eyes on more than one man in the same moment, seemed to +Sagaris the simplest of facts; he consequently found it easy to believe +that, even whilst loving Marcian, Heliodora should have conceived a +tenderness for Marcian's slave. That Heliodora's professions might be +mere trickery, he never imagined; his vanity forbade it; at each +successive meeting he seemed to himself to have strengthened his hold +upon the luxurious woman; each time he came away with a fiercer hatred +of Marcian, and a deeper resolve to ruin him. True, as yet, he had fed +only on promises, but being the man he was, he could attribute to +Heliodora a selfish interest in combination with a lover's desire; what +more intelligible than that she should use him to the utmost against +those she hated, postponing his reward until he had rendered her +substantial service? Thus did Sagaris feel and reason, whilst riding +along the Latin Way. His difficulty was to decide how he should act at +this juncture; how, with greatest profit to himself, he could do most +scathe to Marcian. + +Was his master serving the Greeks or the Goths? Uncertainty on this +point had long troubled his meditations, and was now a cause of grave +embarrassment. Eager to betray, he could not be sure to which side +betrayal should direct itself. On the whole he himself favoured Totila, +feeling sure that the Goth would bring the war to a triumphant end; and +on this account he was disposed to do his errand faithfully. If the +king interrogated him, he could draw conclusions from the questions +asked, and could answer as seemed best for his own ends. So he decided +to push on, and, despite the storm which broke on this second morning, +he rode out from Venafrum. + +A few hours' travel, and, drenched with the furious rain, he came to +Aesernia. This town stood in a strong position on an isolated hill; its +massive walls yet compassed it about. On arriving at the gate he found +himself unexpectedly challenged by armed men, who, though Italians, he +at once suspected to be in the Gothic service. A moment's hesitancy in +replying to the questions, 'Whence?' and 'Whither?' sufficed to put him +under arrest. He was led to the captain, in whom with relief he +recognised Venantius of Nuceria. His doubts being at an end, for he +knew that this Roman noble had long since openly joined Totila, he +begged that Venantius would hear him in private, and this being +granted, began by telling in whose service he was. + +'I thought I somehow remembered your face,' said the captain, whose +look seemed to add that the face did not particularly please him. 'And +where is the lord Marcian?' + +'In Rome, Illustrious.' + +'You have come straight from Rome, then?' + +The answer was affirmative and boldly given. + +'And whither are you bound? On what business?' + +Sagaris, still obeying his master's injunctions, declared that he +carried a verbal message to the King of the Goths, and for him alone. +Having reflected for a moment, Venantius called the soldier who stood +without the door. + +'See to the wants of this messenger. Treat him hospitably, and bring +him hither again in an hour's time.' + +The captain then walked to a house close by, where, admitted to the +atrium, he was at once met by an elderly lady, who bent respectfully +before him. + +'Has the traveller yet risen?' he began by asking. + +'Not yet, my lord. A little while ago his servant told me that he was +still sleeping.' + +'Good; he will recover from his fatigue. But pray inquire whether he is +now awake, for I would speak with him as soon as may be.' + +The lady was absent for a minute or two, then brought word that the +traveller had just awoke. + +'I will go to his bedside,' said Venantius. + +He was led to an upper chamber, a small, bare, tiled-floored room, +lighted by a foot-square window, on which the shutter was half closed +against the rays of the sun. Some aromatic odour hung in the air. + +'Do you feel able to talk?' asked the captain as he entered. + +'I am quite restored,' was the reply of a man sitting up in the bed. +'The fever has passed.' + +'So much for the wisdom of physicians!' exclaimed Venantius with a +laugh. 'That owl-eyed Aesernian who swears by Aesculapius that he has +studied at Constantinople, Antioch, and I know not where else, +whispered to me that you would never behold to-day's sunset. I +whispered to _him_ that he was an ass, and that if he uttered the word +_plague_ to any one in the house, I would cut his ears off. +Nevertheless, I had you put into this out-of-the-way room, that you +might not be disturbed by noises. Who'--he sniffed--'has been burning +perfumes?' + +'My good fellow Felix. Though travel-worn and wounded, he has sat by me +all the time, and would only go to bed when I woke up with a cool +forehead.' + +'A good fellow, indeed. His face spells honesty. I can't say so much +for that of a man I have just been talking with--a messenger of your +friend Marcian.' + +The listener started as though he would leap out of bed. A rush of +colour to his cheeks banished the heavy, wan aspect which had partly +disguised him, and restored the comely visage of Basil. A messenger +from Marcian? he exclaimed. With news for _him_? And, as if expecting a +letter, he stretched forth his hand eagerly. + +'He has nothing, that I know of, for you,' said the captain. 'If he +tells the truth, he is charged with a message for the king.' + +'Is it Sagaris--a Syrian slave?' + +'A Syrian, by his looks; one I remember to have seen with Marcian a +year ago.' + +'Sagaris, to be sure. Then you can trust him. He has the eye of his +race, and is a prating braggart, but Marcian has found him honest. I +must see him, Venantius. Will you send him to me, dear lord?' + +Venantius had seated himself on a chair that was beside the bed; he +wore a dubious look, and, before speaking again, glanced keenly at +Basil. + +'Did you not expect,' he asked, 'to meet Marcian in the king's camp?' + +'My last news from him bade me go thither as fast as I could, as he +himself was leaving Rome to join the king. I should have gone a little +out of my road to visit his villa near Arpinum, on the chance of +hearing news of him there; but our encounter with the marauders drove +me too far away.' + +'So much,' said Venantius, 'I gathered from your talk last night, when +you were not quite so clear-headed as you are now. What I want to +discover is whether this Syrian has lied to me. He declares that he +left Marcian in Rome. Now it happens that some of our men, who were +sent for a certain purpose, yesterday, along the Latin Way, came across +half a dozen horsemen, riding westward, and as their duty was, learnt +all they could from them. These six fellows declared themselves +servants of the bishop of Praeneste, and said that they had just been +convoying a Roman noble and a lady to a villa not far from Arpinum. And +the noble's name--they had it, said they, from his own servants at the +villa, where they had passed a night--was Marcian.' + +Basil stared; he had gone pale again and haggard. + +'What lady was with him?' he asked, under his breath. + +'That I cannot tell you. The bishop's men knew nothing about her, and +had not seen her face. But'--Venantius smiled--'they left her safely +housed with our friend Marcian. How comes this Syrian to say that his +master is at Rome? Does he lie? Or did the horsemen lie? Or are there, +perchance, two Marcians?' + +'I must speak with him,' said Basil. 'Leave me to find out the truth +for you. Send Sagaris here, Venantius, I entreat you.' + +The captain appeared to hesitate, but, on Basil's beseeching him not to +delay, he agreed and left the room. As soon as he was alone, Basil +sprang up and dressed. He was aching from head to foot, and a parched +mouth, a hot hand, told of fever in his blood. On receipt of Marcian's +last letter, he had not delayed a day before setting forth; all was in +readiness for such a summons, and thirty well-mounted, well-armed men, +chosen from the slaves and freedmen on his Asculan estate in Picenum, +rode after him to join the King of the Goths. The journey was rapidly +performed; already they were descending the lower slopes of the +westward Apennine, when they had the ill-luck to fall in with that same +band of marauders which Marcian so narrowly escaped. Basil's first +thought was that the mounted troop coming towards him might hem the +Gothic service, but this hope was soon dispelled. Advancing with fierce +threats, the robbers commanded him and his men to alight, their chief +desire being no doubt to seize the horses and arms. Though outnumbered, +Basil shouted defiance; a conflict began, and so stout was the +resistance they met that, after several had fallen on either side, the +brigands drew off. Not, however, in final retreat; galloping on in hope +of succour, Basil found himself pursued, again lost two or three men, +and only with the utmost difficulty got clear away. + +It was the young Roman's first experience of combat. For this he had +been preparing himself during the past months, exercising his body and +striving to invigorate his mind, little apt for warlike enterprise. +When the trial came, his courage did not fail, but the violent emotions +of that day left him so exhausted, so shaken in nerve, that he could +scarce continue his journey. He had come out of the fight unwounded, +but at nightfall fever fell upon him, and he found no rest. The loss of +some half dozen men grieved him to the heart; had the brave fellows +fallen in battle with the Greeks, he would have thought less of it; to +see them slain, or captured, by mere brigands was more than he could +bear. When at length he reached Aesernia, and there unexpectedly met +with Venantius, he fell from his horse like a dying man. A draught +given by the physician sent him to sleep, and from the second hour +after sunset until nearly noon of to-day he had lain unconscious. + +What he now learnt from Venantius swept into oblivion all that he had +undergone. If it were true that Marcian had travelled in this direction +with a lady under his guard, Basil could not doubt for a moment who +that lady was. The jest of Venantius did not touch him, for Venantius +spoke, it was evident, without a thought of Veranilda, perhaps had +forgotten her existence; not the faintest tremor of uneasiness stirred +in Basil's mind when he imagined Veranilda at his friend's house; +Marcian had discovered her, had rescued her, had brought her thither to +rest in safety till her lover could join them--brave Marcian, truest of +friends! For this had he sent the summons southward, perhaps not daring +to speak more plainly in a letter, perhaps not being yet quite sure of +success. This had he so often promised--O gallant Marcian! + +Quivering with eagerness, he stood at the door of his chamber. +Footsteps sounded; there appeared a slave of the house, and behind him +that dark, handsome visage which he was expecting. + +'Sagaris! My good Sagaris!' he cried joyously. + +The Syrian knelt before him and kissed his hand, but uttered no word. +At sight of Basil, for which he was not at all prepared, Sagaris felt a +happy shock; he now saw his way before him, and had no more anxiety. +But, on rising from the obeisance, he let his head drop; his eyes +wandered: one would have said that he shrank from observation. + +'Speak low,' said Basil, standing by the open door so as to guard +against eavesdropping. 'What message have you for me?' + +Sagaris replied that he had none. + +'None? Your lord charged you with nothing for me in case you should +meet me on your way?' + +Again Sagaris murmured a negative, and this time with so manifest an +air of confusion that Basil stared at him, suspicious, angry. + +'What do you mean? What are you keeping from me?' + +The man appeared to stammer incoherencies. + +'Listen,' said Basil in a low, friendly voice. 'You know very well that +the lord Marcian has no secrets from me. With me you can speak in +entire confidence. What has come to you, man? Tell me--did your lord +leave Rome before or after you?' + +'At the same time.' + +No sooner had this reply fallen from his lips than Sagaris seemed +stricken with alarm. He entreated pardon, declared he knew not what he +was saying, that he was dazed by the weariness of travel. + +'I should have said--neither before nor after. My lord remains in the +city. I was to return with all speed.' + +'He remains in the city?' + +Basil reflected. It was possible that Marcian had either purposely +concealed his journey from this slave, and had suddenly found himself +able to set forth just after Sagaris had started. + +'You bear a letter for the king?' he asked. + +'A letter, Illustrious,' answered the slave, speaking very low. + +'Ah, a letter?' + +Sagaris went on to say that he had kept this a secret from Venantius, +his master having bidden him speak of it to no one and deliver it into +the king's own hand. + +'It is in the Gothic tongue,' he added, his head bent, his look more +furtive than ever; 'and so urgent that I have scarce rested an hour +since leaving the villa.' + +A terrible light flashed into Basil's eyes. Then he sprang at the +speaker, caught him by the throat, forced him to his knees. + +'Scoundrel, you dare to lie to me! So you started from the villa and +not from Rome?' + +Sagaris cried out for mercy, grovelled on the floor. He would tell +everything; but he implored Basil to keep the secret, for, did his +master learn what had happened, his punishment would be terrible. + +'Fool!' cried Basil fiercely. 'How come you to have forgotten all at +once that I am your lord's chosen friend, and that everything +concerning him is safe with me. In very deed, I think you have ridden +too hard in the sun; your brains must have frizzled. Blockhead! If in +haste, the lord Marcian did not speak of me, he took it for granted +that, should you meet me--' + +Something so like a malicious smile flitted over the slave's +countenance that in extremity of wrath he became mute. + +'Your Nobility is deceived,' said Sagaris, in the same moment. 'My lord +expressly forbade me to tell you the truth, should I see you on my +journey.' + +Basil stared at him. + +'I swear by the holy Cross,' exclaimed the other, 'that this is true. +And if I did not dread your anger, I could tell you the reason. I dare +not. By all the saints I dare not!' + +A strange quiet fell upon Basil. It seemed as if he would ask no more +questions; he half turned away, and stood musing. Indeed, it was as +though he had already heard all the slave had to tell, and so overcome +was he by the revelation that speech, even connected thought, was at +first impossible. As he recovered from the stupefying blow, the blood +began to boil in his veins. He felt as when, in the fight of two days +ago, he saw the first of his men pierced by a javelin. Turning again to +Sagaris, he plied him with brief and rapid questions, till he had +learnt every detail of Marcian's journey from Rome to the villa. The +Syrian spoke of the veiled lady without hesitation as Veranilda, and +pretended to have known for some time that she was in a convent at +Praeneste; but, when interrogated as to her life at the villa, he +affected an affectation of doubt, murmuring that he had beheld nothing +with his own eyes, that perhaps the female slaves gossiped idly. + +'What do they say?' asked Basil with unnatural self-control. + +'They speak of her happy mien and gay talk, of her walking with my lord +in private. But I know nothing.' + +Basil kept his eyes down for a long minute, then moved like one who has +taken a resolve. + +'Show me the letter you bear,' he commanded. + +Sagaris produced it, and having looked at the seal, Basil silently +handed it back again. + +'Thrice noble,' pleaded the slave, 'you will not deliver me to my +lord's wrath?' + +'Have no fear; unless in anything you have lied to me. Follow.' + +They descended the stairs, and Basil had himself conducted to the house +where Venantius sate at dinner. He spoke with the captain in private. + +'This slave has a letter, not merely a message, for the king. He says +it is urgent, and so it may be; but, from what I have learnt I doubt +whether he is wholly to be trusted. Can you send some one with him?' + +'Nothing easier.' + +'I,' continued Basil, 'ride straightway for Arpinum. Ask me no +questions, Venantius. When I return, if I do return, you shall know +what sent me there. I may be back speedily.' + +He took food, and in an hour's time was ready to start. Of his +followers, he chose ten to accompany him. The rest remained at +Aesernia. Felix, worn out by watching and with a slight wound in the +side which began to be troublesome, he was reluctantly obliged to +leave. Having inquired as to the road over the mountains by which he +might reach Arpinum more quickly than by the Latin Way, he rode forth +from the town, and was soon spurring at headlong speed in a cloud of +dust. + +His thoughts far outstripped him; he raged at the prospect of long +hours to elapse ere he could reach Marcian's villa. With good luck he +might arrive before nightfall. If disappointed in that, a whole night +must pass, an eternity of torment, before he came face to face with him +he had called his dearest friend, now his abhorred enemy. + +What if he did not find him at the villa? Marcian had perhaps no +intention of remaining there. Perhaps he had already carried off his +victim to some other place. + +Seeing their lord post so furiously, the men looked in wonder at each +other. Some of them were soon left far behind, and Basil, though +merciless in his frenzy, saw at length that his horse was seriously +distressed; he slackened pace, allowed his followers to rejoin him, and +rode, perforce, at what seemed to him a mere crawl. The sun was a +flaming furnace; the earth seemed to be overspread with white fire-ash, +which dazed the eyes and choked. But Basil felt only the fire in his +heart and brain. Forgetful of all about him, he had not ridden more +than a few miles, when he missed the road; his men, ignorant of the +country, followed him without hesitation, and so it happened that, on +stopping at one of the few farms on their way, to ask how far it still +was to Arpinum, he learnt that he must ride back for nearly a couple of +hours to regain the track he should have taken. He broke into frantic +rage, cursed the countrymen who directed him, and as he spurred his +beast, cursed it too because of its stumbling at a stone. + +There was now no hope of finishing the journey to-day. His head on his +breast, Basil rode more and more slowly. The sun declined, and ere long +it would be necessary to seek harbourage. But here among the hills no +place of human habitation came in view. Luckily for themselves some of +the horsemen had brought provender. Their lord had given thought to no +such thing. The sun set; the hills cast a thickening shadow, even Basil +began to gaze uneasily ahead. At length there appeared a building, +looking in the dusky distance like a solitary country house. It proved +to be the ruin of a temple. + +'Here we must stop,' said Basil. 'My horse can go no further. Indeed, +the darkness would stay us in any case. We must shelter in these walls.' + +The men peered at each other, and a whisper went among them. For their +part, said one and all, they would rest under the open sky. Basil +understood. + +'What! you are afraid? Fools, do as you will. These walls shall shelter +me though all the devils in hell were my bedfellows.' + +What had come to him? asked his followers. Never had Basil been known +to speak thus. Spite of their horror of a forsaken temple, two or three +entered, and respectfully made offer of such food as they had with +them. Basil accepted a piece of bread, bade them see to his horse, and +crept into a corner of the building. He desired to be alone and to +think; for it seemed to him that he had not yet been able to reflect +upon the story told by Sagaris. What was it that lurked there at the +back of his mind? A memory, a suggestion of some sort, which would have +helped him to understand could he but grasp it. As he munched his bread +he tried desperately to think, to remember; but all within him was a +passionate misery, capable only of groans and curses. An intolerable +weariness possessed his limbs. After sitting for a while with his back +against the wall, he could not longer hold himself in this position, +but sank down and lay at full length; and even so he ached, ached, from +head to foot. + +Perhaps an hour had passed, and it was now quite dark within the +temple, when two of the men appeared with blazing torches, for they, by +means of flint and iron, had lit a fire in a hollow hard by, and meant +to keep it up through the night as a protection against wolves. They +brought Basil a draught of water in a leather bottle, from a little +stream they had found; and he drank gratefully, but without a word. The +torchlight showed bare walls and a shattered roof. Having searched all +round and discovered neither reptile nor beast, the men made a bed of +leaves and bracken, with a folded cloak for a pillow, and invited their +master to lie upon it. Basil did so, turned his face away, and bade +them leave him alone. + +What was that memory at the back of his mind? In the effort to draw it +forth he ground his teeth together, dug his nails into his hands. At +moments he forgot why he was wretched, and, starting up, strained his +eyes into the darkness, until he saw the face of Sagaris and heard him +speaking. + +For a while he slept; but dreadful dreams soon awoke him, and, +remembering where he was, he shook with horror. Low sounds fell upon +his ear, movements, he thought, in the black night. He would have +shouted to his men, but shame kept him mute. He crossed himself and +prayed to the Virgin; then, raising his eyes, he saw through the broken +roof a space of sky in which a star shone brilliantly. It brought him +comfort; but the next moment he remembered Sagaris, and mental anguish +blended with his fears of the invisible. + +Again sleep overcame him. He dreamt that an evil spirit, with a face he +knew but could not name, was pursuing him over trackless mountains. He +fled like the wind; but the spirit was close behind him, and wherever +he turned his head, he saw the familiar face grinning a devilish +mockery. A precipice lay before him. He leapt wildly, and knew at once +that he had leapt into fire, into hell. But the red gleam was that of a +torch, and before him, as he opened his eyes, stood one of his faithful +attendants who had come to see if all was well with him. He asked for +water, and the man fetched him a draught. It was yet long till dawn. + +Now he could not lie still, for fever burned him. Though awake, he saw +visions, and once sent forth what seemed to him a yell of terror; but +in truth it was only a moan, and no one heard. He relived through the +fight with the marauders; sickened with dread at the gleam of weapons; +flamed into fury, and shouted with savage exultation as he felt his +sword cut the neck of an enemy. He was trying to think of Veranilda, +but all through the night her image eluded him, and her name left him +cold. He was capable only of hatred. At daybreak he slept heavily; the +men, approaching him and looking at his haggard face, thought better to +let him rest, and only after sunrise did he awake. He was angry that +they had not aroused him sooner, got speedily to horse, and rode off +almost at the same speed as yesterday. Now, at all events, he drew near +to his goal; for a ride of an hour or two he needed not to spare his +beast; sternly he called to his men to follow him close. + +And all at once, as though his brain were restored by the freshness of +the morning, he grasped the thought which had eluded him. Marcian's +treachery was no new thing: twice he had been warned against his +seeming friend, by Petronilla and by Bessas, and in his folly he had +scorned the accusation which time had now so bitterly justified. +Forgotten, utterly forgotten, until this moment; yet how blinded he +must have been by his faith in Marcian's loyalty not to have reflected +upon many circumstances prompting suspicion. Marcian had perhaps been +false to him from the very day of Veranilda's disappearance, and how +far did his perfidy extend? Had he merely known where she was +concealed, or had he seen her, spoken with her, wooed her all along? He +had won her; so much was plain; and he could scarce have done so during +the brief journey to his villa. O villainous Marcian! O fickle, wanton +Veranilda! + +So distinct before his fiery imagination shone the image of those two +laughing together, walking alone (as Sagaris had reported), that all +reasoning, such as a calmer man might have entertained, was utterly +forbidden. Not a doubt crossed his mind. And in his heart was no desire +but of vengeance. + +At length he drew near to Arpinum. Avoiding the town, he questioned a +peasant at work in the fields, and learnt his way to the island. Just +as he came within view of the eastward waterfall, a girl was crossing +the bridge, away from the villa. Basil drew rein, bidding his men do +likewise, and let the girl, who had a bundle on her head, draw near. At +sight of the horsemen, of whom she was not aware till close by them, +the maid uttered a cry of alarm, and would have run back but Basil +intercepted her, jumped from his horse, and bade her have no fear, as +he only wished to ask a harmless question. Easily he learnt that +Marcian was at the villa, that he had arrived a few days ago, and that +with him had come a lady. + +'What is that lady's name?' he inquired. + +The girl did not know. Only one or two of the slaves, she said, had +seen her; she was said to be beautiful, with long yellow hair. + +'She never goes out?' asked Basil. + +The reply was that, only this morning, she had walked in the wood--the +wood just across the bridge--with Marcian. + +Basil sprang on to his horse, beckoned his troop, and rode forward. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +DOOM + + +When Marcian parted from Veranilda in the peristyle, and watched her as +she ascended to her chamber, he knew that sombre exultation which +follows upon triumph in evil. Hesitancies were now at end; no longer +could he be distracted between two desires. In his eye, as it pursued +the beauty for which he had damned himself, glowed the fire of an +unholy joy. Not without inner detriment had Marcian accustomed himself +for years to wear a double face; though his purpose had been pure, the +habit of assiduous perfidy, of elaborate falsehood, could not leave his +soul untainted. A traitor now for his own ends, he found himself moving +in no unfamiliar element, and, the irrevocable words once uttered, he +thrilled with defiance of rebuke. All the persistency of the man +centred itself upon the achievement of this crime, to him a crime no +longer from the instant that he had irreversibly willed it. + +On fire to his finger-tips, he could yet reason with the coldest +clarity of thought. Having betrayed his friend thus far, he must needs +betray him to the extremity of traitorhood; must stand face to face +with him in the presence of the noble Totila, and accuse him even as he +had done to Veranilda. Only thus, as things had come about, could he +assure himself against the fear that Totila, in generosity, or policy, +or both, might give the Amal-descended maid to Basil. To defeat Basil's +love was his prime end, jealousy being more instant with him than +fleshly impulse. Yet so strong had this second motive now become, that +he all but regretted his message to the king: to hold Veranilda in his +power, to gratify his passion sooner or later, by this means or by +that, he would perhaps have risked all the danger to which such +audacity exposed him. But Marcian was not lust-bitten quite to madness. +For the present, enough to ruin the hopes of Basil. This done, the +field for his own attempt lay open. By skilful use of his advantages, +he might bring it to pass that Totila would grant him a supreme +reward--the hand of Veranilda. + +Unless, indeed, the young king, young and warm-blooded however noble of +mind, should himself look upon Veranilda with a lover's eyes. It was +not the first time that Marcian had thought of this. It made him wince. +But he reminded himself that herein lay another safeguard against the +happiness of Basil, and so was able to disregard the fear. + +He would let his victim repose during the heat of the day, and then, +towards evening, would summon her to another interview. Not much longer +could he hope to be with her in privacy; to-morrow, or the next day at +latest, emissaries of the Gothic king would come in response to his +letter. But this evening he should speak with her, gaze upon her, for a +long, long hour. She was gentle, meek, pious; in everything the +exquisite antithesis of such a woman as Heliodora. Out of very humility +she allowed herself to believe that Basil had ceased to love her. How +persuade her, against the pure loyalty of her heart, that he had even +plotted her surrender to an unknown fate? What proof of that could he +devise? Did he succeed in overcoming her doubts, would he not have gone +far towards winning her gratitude? + +She would shed tears again; it gave him a nameless pleasure to see +Veranilda weep. + +Thinking thus, he strayed aimlessly and unconsciously in courts and +corridors. Night would come again, and could he trust himself through +the long, still night after long speech with Veranilda? A blacker +thought than any he had yet nurtured began to stir in his mind, raising +its head like the viper of an hour ago. Were she but his--his +irredeemably? He tried to see beyond that, but his vision blurred. + +Her nature was gentle, timid; the kind of nature, he thought, which +subdues itself to the irreparable. So soft, so sweet, so utterly woman, +might she not, thinking herself abandoned by Basil, yield heart and +soul to a man whom she saw helpless to resist a passionate love of her? +Or, if this hope deceived him, was there no artifice with which to +cover his ill-doing, no piece of guile subtle enough to cloak such +daring infamy? + +He was in the atrium, standing on the spot where first he had talked +with her. As then, he gazed at the bronze group of the candelabrum; his +eyes were fixed on those of Proserpine. + +A slave entered and announced to him a visit from one of the priests +whom he was going to see when the meeting at the bridge changed his +purpose. The name startled him. Was this man sent by God? He bade +introduce the visitor, and in a moment there entered a white-bearded, +shoulder-bowed ecclesiastic, perspiring from the sunshine, who greeted +him with pleasant cordiality. This priest it was--he bore the name +Gaudiosus--who had baptized Marcian, and had given him in childhood +religious teaching; a good, but timid man, at all times readier to +praise than to reprove, a well-meaning utterer of smooth things, +closing his eyes to evil, which confused rather than offended him. From +the same newsbearer, who told him of Marcian's arrival at the villa, +Gaudiosus had heard of a mysterious lady; but it was far from his +thought to meddle with the morals of one whose noble birth and +hereditary position of patron inspired him with respect; he came only +to gossip about the affairs of the time. They sat down together, +Marcian glad of the distraction. But scarce had they been talking for +five minutes, when again the servant presented himself. + +'What now?' asked his master impatiently. + +'My lord, at the gate is the lord Basil.' + +Marcian started up. + +'Basil? How equipped and attended?' + +'Armed, on horseback, and with a number of armed horsemen.' + +'Withdraw, and wait outside till I call you.' + +Marcian turned to the presbyter. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes +strangely bright. + +'Here,' he said, in low, hurried tones, 'comes an evil man, a deep-dyed +traitor, with the aspect of friendliest integrity. I am glad you are +with me. I have no leisure now to tell you the story; you shall hear it +afterwards. What I ask of you, reverend father, is to bear me out in +all I say, to corroborate, if asked to do so, all I state to him. You +may rely upon the truth of every word I shall utter; and may be assured +that, in doing this, you serve only the cause of good. Let it not +surprise you that I receive the man with open arms. He was my dear +friend; I have only of late discovered his infamy, and for the gravest +reasons, which you shall learn, I am obliged to mask my knowledge. +Beloved father, you will give me your countenance?' + +'I will, I will,' replied Gaudiosus nervously. 'You would not deceive +me, I well know, dear son.' + +'God forbid!' + +Marcian summoned the waiting servant, and ordered that the traveller +should be straightway admitted. A few minutes passed in absolute +silence, then, as the two stood gazing towards the entrance, they saw +the gleam of a casque and of a breastplate, and before them stood +Basil. His arms extended, Marcian stepped forward. + +'So soon, O brave Basil!' he exclaimed. 'What speed you must have made! +How long is it since my letter reached you?' + +There passed the semblance of an embrace between them. Basil was death +pale; he spoke in hollow tones, as though his tongue were parched, and +looked with bloodshot eyes from Marcian to the ecclesiastic. + +'I am travel-worn. Your hospitality must restore me.' + +'That it shall,' replied Marcian. 'Or, better still,' he added, 'the +hospitality of my father Gaudiosus.' He touched the priest's arm, as if +affectionately. 'For here there is little solace; barely one chamber +habitable. You have often heard me describe, O Basil, my poor, ruinous +island villa, and now at length you behold it. I did not think you +would pass this way, or I would have prepared for your fitting +reception. By the greatest chance you find me here; and to-morrow I +must be gone. But scarce two thousand paces from here is the dwelling +of this reverend man, who will entertain you fittingly, and give you +the care you need; for it seems to me, dear Basil, that you are more +than wearied.' + +The listener nodded, and let himself drop upon a seat near to where +Marcian was standing. + +'What have you to tell me?' he asked under his breath. + +'Nothing good, alas!' was the murmured reply. + +'Shall we speak in private?' + +'Nay, it is needless. All my secrets lie open to Gaudiosus.' + +Again Basil cast a glance at the presbyter, who had seated himself and +appeared to be absorbed in thought. + +'Do you mean,' he asked, 'that something new has befallen?' + +His eyes were upon Marcian, and Marcian's upon those of Proserpine. + +'Yes, something new. The deacon of whom you know has left Rome, +accompanying the Pope on his journey eastward. And with him he has +taken--' + +A name was shaped upon the speaker's lips, but whether of purpose, or +because his voice failed him, it found no utterance. + +'Veranilda?' + +As Basil spoke, his eye was caught by the movement of a curtain at the +back of the room. The curtain was pushed aside, and there appeared the +figure of a maiden, pale, beautiful. Marcian did not see her, nor yet +did the priest. + +'Veranilda?' repeated Basil, in the same questioning tone. He leaned +forward, his hand upon his wrist. + +'She--alas!' was Marcian's reply. + +'Liar! traitor! devil!' + +At each word, Basil's dagger drank blood up to the hilt. With his +furious voice blended a yell of terror, of agony, a faint cry of horror +from Gaudiosus, and a woman's scream. Then came silence. + +The priest dropped to his knees by Marcian's prostrate form. Basil, the +stained weapon in his crimson hand, stared at Veranilda, who also had +fallen. + +'Man! What hast thou done?' gasped Gaudiosus. + +The trembling, senile tones wakened Basil as if from a trance. He +thrust his dagger into its sheath, stepped to the back of the room, and +bent over the white loveliness that lay still. + +'Is it death?' he murmured. + +'Death! death!' answered the priest, who had just heard Marcian's last +sob. + +'I speak not of that perjured wretch,' said Basil. 'Come hither.' + +Gaudiosus obeyed, and looked with wonder at the unconscious face. + +'Who is this?' he asked. + +'No matter who. Does she live?' + +Basil had knelt, and taken one of the little hands in both his own, +staining it with the blood of Marcian. + +'I can feel no throb of life,' he said, speaking coldly, mechanically. + +The priest bent, and put his cheek to her lips. + +'She lives. This is but a swoon. Help me to bear her to the couch.' + +But Basil took the slender body in his arms, and carried it like that +of a child. When he had laid it down, he looked at Gaudiosus sternly. + +'Have you authority in this house?' + +'Some little, perhaps. I know not. What is your will?' + +Utterly confounded, his eyes dropping moisture, his limbs shaken as if +with palsy, the priest babbled his reply. + +'Use any power you have,' continued Basil, 'to prevent more bloodshed. +Outside the gates are men of mine. Bid the porter admit them to the +outer court. Then call thither two servants, and let them bear away +_that_--whither you will. After, you shall hear more.' + +Like an obedient slave, Gaudiosus sped on his errand. Basil the while +stood gazing at Veranilda; but he did not go very near to her, and his +look had nothing of tenderness. He saw the priest return, followed by +two men, heard him whisper to them, saw them take up and carry away +their master's corpse; all this as if it did not regard him. Again he +turned his gaze upon Veranilda. It seemed to him that her lips, her +eyelids moved. He bent forward, heard a sigh. Then the blue eyes +opened, but as yet saw nothing. + +Gaudiosus reappeared, and Basil beckoned him. + +'You do not know her?' he asked in a low voice. + +'I never looked upon her face till now,' was the reply. + +At the sound of their voices Veranilda stirred, tried to rouse herself, +uttered a sound of distress. + +'Speak to her,' said Basil. + +Gaudiosus approached the couch, and spoke soothing words. + +'What dreadful thought is this?' said Veranilda. 'What have I seen?' + +The priest whispered an adjuration to prayer. But she, raising her +head, cast terrified glances about the hall. Basil had moved further +away, and she did not seem to be aware of his presence. + +'How long is it,' he asked, with his eyes upon Gaudiosus, 'since +Marcian came from Rome?' + +'This is the fourth day. So I have been told. I myself saw him for the +first time not an hour--nay, not half an hour ago.' + +'You knew not that he brought _her_ with him?' + +Basil, without looking in that direction, signalled with his head +towards Veranilda. + +'I had heard of some companion unnamed.' + +'He had not spoken of her to you?' + +'Not a word.' + +On the tesselated floor where Marcian had fallen was a pool of blood. +Basil only now perceived it, and all at once a violent shudder went +over him. + +'Man of God!' he exclaimed in a voice of sudden passion, terribly +resonant after the dull, hard accents of his questioning. 'You look +upon me with abhorrence, and, perhaps, with fear. Hearken to my +vindication. He whom I have slain was the man I held in dearest +friendship. I believed him true to the heart's core. Yesterday--was it +but yesterday?--O blessed Christ!--it seems to me so long ago--I +learned that his heart was foul with treachery. Long, long, he has lied +to me, pretending to seek with me for one I had lost, my plighted love. +In secret he robbed me of her. Heard you not his answer when, to catch +the lie on his very lips, I asked what news he could give me of her. I +knew that she was here; his own servant had secretly avowed the truth +to me. And you heard him say that she was gone on far travel. Therefore +it was that he would not harbour me in his house--me, his friend. In +the name of the Crucified, did I not well to lay him low?' + +Somewhat recovered from the emotions which had enfeebled him, Gaudiosus +held up his head, and made solemn answer. + +'Not yours was it to take vengeance. The God to whom you appeal has +said: "Thou shalt do no murder."' + +'Consider his crime,' returned the other. 'In the moment when he swore +falsely I lifted up my eyes, and behold, she herself stood before me. +She whom I loved, who had pledged herself to me, who long ago would +have been my wife but for the enemy who came between us--she, hidden +here with him, become a wanton in his embraces--' + +A low cry of anguish interrupted him. He turned. Veranilda had risen +and drawn near. + +'Basil! You know not what you say.' + +'Nor what I _could_ say,' he replied, his eyes blazing with scorn. +'You, who were truth itself have you so well learned to lie? Talk on. +Tell me that he held you here perforce, and that you passed the days +and the nights in weeping. Have I not heard of your smiles and your +contentment? Whither did you stray this morning? Did you go into the +wood to say your orisons?' + +Veranilda turned to the priest. + +'Servant of God I Hear me, unhappy that I am!' + +With a gesture of entreaty she flung out her hands, and, in doing so, +saw that one of them was red. Her woebegone look changed to terror. + +'What is this? His blood is upon me--on my hand, my garment. When did I +touch him? Holy father, whither has he gone? Does he live? Oh, tell me +if he lives!' + +'Come hence with me,' said Gaudiosus. 'Come where I may hear you utter +the truth before God.' + +But Veranilda was as one distraught. She threw herself on to her knees. + +'Tell me he lives. He is but sorely hurt? He can speak? Whither have +they carried him?' + +Confirmed in his damning thought by every syllable she uttered, Basil +strode away. + +'Lead her where you will,' he shouted. 'I stay under this abhorred roof +only till my men have eaten and taken rest.' + +Without knowing it, he had stepped into the pool of blood, and a red +track was left behind him as he went forth from the hall. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +THE RED HAND + + +Resting at length from desire and intrigue, Marcian lay cold upon the +bed where he had passed his haunted nights. About his corpse were +gathered all the servants of the house; men, with anger on their brows, +muttering together, and women wailing low because of fear. The girl who +had met the horsemen by the bridge told her story, whence it became +evident that Marcian's death was the result of private quarrel; but +some of the slaves declared that this armed company came in advance of +the Gothic host; and presently the loss of their master was all but +forgotten in anxiety as to their own fate at the hands of the Emperor. + +This talk was interrupted by the approach of Basil's men, who came to +seek a meal for themselves and forage for their horses. Having no +choice but to obey, the servants went about the work required of them. +A quiet fell upon the house. The strangers talked little, and, when +they spoke, subdued their voices. In still chambers and corridors was +heard now and then a sound of weeping. + +Basil, though he had given orders for departure as soon as the meal was +done, knew not whither his journey should be directed. A paralysis of +thought and will kept him pacing alone in the courtyard; food he could +not touch; of repose he was incapable; and though he constantly lifted +up his bloodstained hand, to gaze at it as if in bewildered horror, he +did not even think of washing the blood away. At moments he lost +consciousness of what he had done, his mind straying to things remote; +then the present came back upon him with a shock, seeming, however, to +strike on numbed senses, so that he had to say to himself, 'I have +slain Marcian,' before he could fully understand his suffering. + +Veranilda was now scarce present to his mind at all. Something vaguely +outlined hovered in the background; something he durst not look at or +think about; the sole thing in the world that had reality for him was +the image of Marcian--stabbed, shrieking, falling, dead. Every minute +was the fearful scene re-enacted. More than once he checked himself in +his walk, seeming to be about to step on Marcian's body. + +At length, seeing a shadow draw near, he raised his eyes and beheld +Gaudiosus. He tried to speak, but found that his tongue clave to the +roof of his mouth. Automatically he crossed himself, then caught the +priest's hand, and knelt and kissed it. + +'Rise, my son,' said Gaudiosus, 'for I would talk with you.' + +On one side of the courtyard was a portico with seats, and thither the +old man led. + +'Unless,' he began gravely, 'unless the author of all falsehood--who is +so powerful over women--has entered into this maiden to baffle and +mislead me utterly, I feel assured that she is chaste; not merely +unsullied in the flesh, but as pure of heart as her fallen nature may +permit a woman to be.' + +Basil gazed at him darkly. + +'My father, how can you believe it? Did you not hear her lament because +the man was dead? It is indeed the devil that beguiles you.' + +Gaudiosus bent his head, and pondered anxiously. + +'Tell me,' he said at length, 'all her story, that I may compare it +with what I have heard from her own lips.' + +Slowly at first, and confusedly, with hesitations, repetitions, long +pauses, Basil recited the history of Veranilda, so far as he knew it. +The priest listened and nodded, and when silence came, continued the +narrative. If Veranilda spoke truth she had never seen Marcian until he +took her from the convent at Praeneste. Moreover, Marcian had never +uttered to her a word of love; in his house she had lived as chastely +as among the holy sisters. + +'What did she here, then?' asked Basil bitterly. 'Why did he bring her +here? You know, O father, that it was not in fulfilment of his promise +to me, for you heard his shameless lie when I questioned him.' + +'He told her,' replied the priest, 'that she sojourned here only until +he could put her under the protection of the Gothic King.' + +'Of Totila?' cried Basil. 'Nay, for all I know, he may have thought of +that--his passion being appeased.' + +Even as he spoke be remembered Sagaris and the letter written in +Gothic. Some motive of interest might, indeed, have prompted Marcian to +this step. None the less was he Veranilda's lover. Would he otherwise +have kept her here with him, alone, and not rather have continued the +journey, with all speed, till he reached Totila's camp? + +'When I left her,' pursued Gaudiosus, whose confidence in his own +judgment was already shaken by the young man's vehemence, 'I spoke in +private with certain of the bondswomen, who declared to me that they +could avouch the maiden's innocence since her coming hither--until +to-day's sunrise.' + +Basil laughed with scorn. + +'Until to-day's sunrise? And pray, good father, what befell her at that +moment? What whisper the Argus-eyed bondswomen?' + +'They tell me,' replied the priest, 'that she went forth and met +Marcian, and walked with him in a wood, her own woman having been sent +back to the villa. This troubled me; but her voice, her countenance--' + +'Helped by the devil,' broke in Basil. 'Reverend man, do not seek to +deceive yourself, or to solace me with a vain hope. I pray you, did +Marcian, when you came to visit him, speak of a lady whose virtue he +was sworn to guard? Plainly, not a word fell from him. Yet assuredly he +would have spoken had things been as you pretend.' + +Gaudiosus, bent double, a hand propping his white-bearded chin, mused +for a little with sadded air. + +'Lord Basil,' he resumed at length, 'somewhat more have I to say to +you. I live far from the world, and hear little of its rumour. Until +this day your name was unknown to me, and of good concerning you I have +to this hour heard nothing save from your own lips. May I credit this +report you make of yourself? Or should I rather believe what Marcian, +in brief words, declared to me when he heard that you were at his gate?' + +The speaker paused, as if to collect courage. + +'He spoke ill of me?' asked Basil. + +'He spoke much ill. He accused you of disloyalty in friendship, saying +that he had but newly learnt how you had deceived him. More than this +he had not time to tell.' + +Basil looked into the old man's rheumy eyes. + +'You do well to utter this, good father. Tell me one thing more. Yonder +maiden, does she breathe the same charge against me?' + +'Not so,' replied Gaudiosus. 'Of you she said no evil.' + +'Yet I scarce think'--he smiled coldly--'that she made profession of +love for me?' + +'My son, her speech was maidenly. She spoke of herself as erstwhile +your betrothed; no more than that.' + +As he uttered these words, the priest rose. He had an uneasy look, as +if he feared that infirmity of will and fondness for gossip had +betrayed him into some neglect of spiritual obligation. + +'It is better,' he said, 'that we should converse no more. I know not +what your purposes may be, nor do they concern me I remain here to pray +by the dead, and I shall despatch a messenger to my brother presbyter, +that we may prepare for the burial. Remember,' he raised his head, and +his voice struck a deeper note, 'that the guilt of blood is upon you, +and that no plea of earthly passion will avail before the Almighty +Judge. Behold your hand--even so, but far more deeply have you stained +your soul.' + +Basil scarce heard. Numbness had crept over him again; he stared at the +doorway by which the priest re-entered the house, and only after some +minutes recalled enough of the old man's last words to look upon his +defiled hand. Then he called aloud, summoning any slave who might hear +him, and when the doorkeeper came timidly from a recess where he had +been skulking, bade him bring water. Having cleansed himself, he walked +by an outer way to the rear of the villa; for he durst not pass through +the atrium. + +Here his men were busy over their meal, sitting or sprawling in a +shadowed place, the slaves waiting upon them. With a reminder that they +must hold themselves ready to ride at any moment, he passed on through +a large, wild garden, and at length, where a grove of box-trees +surrounded the ruins of a little summer-house, cast himself to the +ground. + +His breast heaved, his eyes swelled and smarted, but he could not shed +tears. Face downwards, like a man who bites the earth in his last +agony, he lay quivering. So did an hour or more pass by. + +He was roused by the voices of his men, who were searching and calling +for him. With an effort, he rose to his feet, and stepped out into the +sunshine, when he learnt that a troop of soldiers had just ridden up to +the villa, and that their captain, who had already entered, was asking +for him by name. Careless what might await him, Basil followed the men +as far as the inner court, and there stood Venantius. + +'I surprise you,' cried out the genial voice with a cheery laugh. You +had five hours start of me. Pray, dear lord, when did you get here?' + +Basil could make no reply, and the other, closely observing his strange +countenance, went on to explain that, scarcely started from Aesernia on +his way to the king, Marcian's messenger had met with Totila himself, +who was nearer than had been thought. After reading the letter, Totila +had come on rapidly to Aesernia, and had forthwith despatched Venantius +to the villa by Arpinum. + +'You guess my mission, lord Basil,' he pursued, with bluff good-humour. +'Dullard that I was, the talk of a fair lady travelling in Marcian's +charge never brought to my mind that old story of Surrentum. Here is +our royal Totila all eagerness to see this maiden--if maiden still she +be. What say you on that point, dear lord? Nay, look not so fiercely at +me. I am not here to call any one to account, but only to see that the +Gothic beauty comes safe to Aesernia as soon as may be.' + +'You will find her within,' muttered Basil. + +'And Marcian? I might have thought I came inopportunely to this +dwelling, but that he himself wrote to the king that the lady was here.' + +'You are assured of that?' Basil asked, under his breath. + +'I have Totila's word for it, at all events. But you seem indisposed +for talk, lord Basil, and my business is with Marcian. The slaves all +look scared, and can't or won't answer a plain question. I have no time +to waste. Tell me, I pray you, where the lord of the villa may be +found.' + +Basil summoned one of his followers. + +'Conduct the lord Venantius to Marcian's chamber.' + +It was done. Basil remained standing in the same spot, his eyes cast +down, till a quick step announced the captain's return. Venantius came +close up to him, and spoke in a grave but not unfriendly voice: + +'The priest has told me what he saw, but will not say more. I ask you +nothing, lord Basil. You will make your defence to the king.' + +'Be it so.' + +'My men must rest for an hour,' continued Venantius. 'We shall ride +this afternoon as far as Aquinum, and there pass the night. I go now to +speak with Veranilda.' + +'As you will.' + +Basil withdrew into the portico, sat down, and covered his face with +his hands. Fever consumed him, and a dreadful melancholy weighed upon +his spirit. At a respectful distance from him, his followers had +assembled, ready for departure. The soldiers who had come with +Venantius, a score in number, were eating and drinking outside the +gates. Within, all was quiet. Half an hour elapsed, and Venantius again +came forward. Seeing Basil in the shadow of the portico, he went and +sat beside him, and began to speak with rough but well-meaning solace. +Why this heaviness? If he surmised aright, Basil had but avenged +himself as any man would have done. For his own part, he had never +thought enough of any woman to kill a man on her account; but such +little troubles were of everyday occurrence, and must not be taken too +much to heart. He had seen this Gothic damsel of whom there had been so +much rumour, and, by Diana I (if the oath were not inappropriate) her +face deserved all that was said of it. His rival being out of the way, +why should not Basil pluck up cheer? Totila would not deal harshly in +such a matter as this, and more likely than not he would be disposed to +give the maiden to a Roman of noble race, his great desire being to win +all Romans by generosity. + +'Yonder priest tells me,' he added, 'that you were over hasty; that you +struck on a mere suspicion. And methinks he may be right. By the Holy +Cross, I could well believe this maiden a maiden in very deed. I never +looked upon a purer brow, an eye that spoke more innocently. Hark ye, +my good Basil, I am told that you have not spoken with her. If you +would fain do so before we set forth, I will be no hinderer. Go, if you +will, into yonder room'--he pointed to a door near by--' and when she +descends (I have but to call), you shall see her undisturbed.' + +For a moment Basil sat motionless; then, without a word, he rose and +went whither Venantius directed him. But a few minutes passed before he +saw Veranilda enter. She was clad for travel, a veil over her face; +this, and the shadow in which Basil stood, made her at first unaware of +his presence, for Venantius had only requested her to enter this room +until the carriage was ready. Standing with bowed head, she sobbed. + +'Why do you weep?' demanded an abrupt voice, which made her draw back +trembling. + +Basil moved a little towards her. + +'You weep for _him_?' he added in the same pitiless tone. + +'For him, for you, and for myself, alas! alas!' + +The subdued anguish of her voice did not touch Basil. He burned with +hatred of her and of the dead man. + +'Shed no tears for me. I am cured of a long folly. And for you +consolation will not be slow in coming. Who knows but you may throw +your spell upon Totila himself.' + +'You know not what you say,' replied Veranilda; not, as when she used +the words before, in accents quivering from a stricken heart, but with +sorrowful dignity and self-command. 'Is it Basil who speaks thus? Were +it only the wrong done me that I had to bear, I could keep silence, +waiting until God restored your justice and your gentleness. But, +though in nothing blameworthy, I am the cause of what has come about; +for had I not entered that room when I did, you would not have struck +the fatal blow. Listen then, O Basil, whilst I make known to you what +happened before you came.' + +She paused to control herself. + +'I must go back to the night when I left the convent. No one had told +me I was to go away. In the middle of the night I was aroused and led +forth, with me the woman who served me. We had travelled an hour or +two, perhaps, when some one standing by the carriage spoke to me, some +one who said he was Marcian the friend of Basil, and bade me have no +fears, for Basil awaited me at the end of the journey. The next day he +spoke to me again, this time face to face, but only a few words. We +came to this villa. You have been told, by I know not whom, that I was +light of heart. It is true, for I believed what Marcian had said to me, +and nothing had befallen to disturb my gladness. I lived with my +serving woman privately, in quiet and hope. This morning, yielding, +alas! to a wish which I thought harmless, I went forth with my +attendant to the waterfall. As I stood gazing at it, the lord Marcian +came forth on horseback. He alighted to speak with me, and presently +asked if I would go to see another fall of the river, across the +island. I consented. As we went, he dismissed my servant, and I did not +know what he had done (thinking she still followed), until, when we +were in a wood at the water's edge, I could no longer see the woman, +and Marcian told me he had bidden her go to fetch seats for us. Then he +began to speak, and what he said, how shall I tell you?' + +There was another brief silence. Basil did not stir; his eyes were bent +sternly upon the veiled visage. + +'Was it evil in his heart that shaped such words? Or had he been +deceived by some other? He said that Basil had forgotten me; that Basil +loved, and would soon wed, a lady in Rome. More than that, he said that +Basil was plotting to get me into his power, his purpose being to +deliver me to the Greeks, who would take me to Constantinople. But +Marcian, so he declared, had rescued me in time, and I was to be +guarded by the King of the Goths.' + +The listener moved, raising his arm and letting it fall again. But he +breathed no word. + +'This did he tell me,' she added. 'I went back to the villa to my +chamber. I sat thinking, I know not how long; I know not how long. +Then, unable to remain any longer alone, driven by my dreadful doubt, I +came forth to seek Marcian. I descended the stairs to the atrium. You +saw me--alas! alas!' + +Basil drew nearer to her. + +'He had spoken no word of love?' + +'No word. I had no fear of _that_.' + +'Why, then, did he frame these lies, these hellish lies?' + +'Alas!' cried Veranilda, clasping her hands above her head. 'Did he +still live, the truth might be discovered. His first words to me, in +the night when he stood beside the carriage, sounded so kind and true; +he named himself the friend of Basil, said that Basil awaited me at the +journey's end. How could he speak so, if he indeed then thought you +what he afterwards said? Oh, were he alive, to stand face to face with +me again!' + +'It is not enough,' asked Basil harshly, 'that I tell you he lied?' + +She did not on the instant reply, and he, possessed with unreasoning +bitterness, talked wildly on. + +'No! You believed him, and believe him still. I can well fancy that he +spoke honestly at first; but when he had looked into your face, when he +had talked with you, something tempted him to villainy. Go! Your tears +and your lamentations betray you. It is not of me that you think, but +of him, him, only him! "Oh, were he alive!" Ay, keep your face bidden; +you know too well it could not bear my eyes upon it.' + +Veranilda threw back the long veil, and stood looking at him. + +'Eyes red with weeping,' he exclaimed, 'and for whom? If you were true +to me, would you not rejoice that I had slain my enemy? You say you +were joyful in the thought of seeing me again? You see me--and with +what countenance?' + +'I see not Basil,' she murmured, her hands upon her breast. + +'You see a false lover, an ignoble traitor--the Basil shown you by +Marcian. What would it avail me to speak in my own defence? His voice +is in your ears, its lightest tone outweighing my most solemn oath. +"Oh, that he were alive!" That is all you find to say to me.' + +'I know you not,' sobbed Veranilda. 'Alas, I know you not!' + +'Nor I you. I dreamt of a Veranilda who loved so purely and so +constantly that not a thousand slanderers could have touched her heart +with a shadow of mistrust. But who are you--you whom the first gross +lie of a man lusting for your beauty utterly estranges from your faith? +Who are you--who wail for the liar's death, and shrink in horror from +the hand that slew him? I ever heard that the daughters of the Goths +were chaste and true and fearless. So they may be--all but one, whose +birth marked her for faithlessness.' + +As though smitten by a brutal blow, Veranilda bowed her head, +shuddering. Once more she looked at Basil, for an instant, with wide +eyes of fear; then hid herself beneath the veil, and was gone. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +THE MOUNT OF THE MONK + + +Basil rode with his own man apart from Venantius and the soldiers who +guarded the conveyance in which sat Veranilda. Venantius, for his part, +would fain have lightened the way with friendly talk, but finding Basil +irresponsive, he left him to his gloomy meditations. And so they came +to Aquinum, where they passed the night. + +By way of precaution, the captain set a guard before the house in which +his fellow-traveller slept, and at daybreak, as soon as he had risen, +one of the soldiers thus employed reported to him that the young Roman +had fallen into such distemper that it seemed doubtful whether he could +continue the journey; a servant who had slept at Basil's door declared +that all through the night his master had talked wildly, like one +fever-frenzied. Venantius visited the sick man, and found him risen, +but plainly in poor case for travel. + +'Why, you will never mount your horse,' he opined, after touching +Basil's hand, and finding it on fire. 'This is what comes of a queasy +conscience. Take heart, man! Are you the first that stuck a false +friend between the ribs, or the first to have your love kissed against +her will? That it _was_ against her will, I take upon myself to swear. +You are too fretful, my good lord. Come, now! What are we to do with +you?' + +'I can ride on,' answered Basil. 'Pay no heed to me, and leave me in +peace, I pray you.' + +He was helped to horseback, and the cavalcade went forth again along +the Latin Way. This morning, no beam of sunrise shone above the +mountains; the heavens were sullen, and a hot wind blew from the south. +Even Venantius, though he hummed a song to himself, felt the sombre +influence of the air, and kept glancing uneasily backwards at the +death-pale man, who rode with head upon his breast. Scarcely had they +ridden for an hour at foot-pace, when a shout caught the captain's ear; +he turned, just in time to see Basil dropping to the ground. + +'God's thunder!' he growled. 'I have been expecting this. Well if he +dies, it may save the king some trouble.' + +He jumped down, and went to Basil's side. At first the sufferer could +not speak, but when water had been given him, he gazed at Venantius +with a strange smile, and, pointing before him, said faintly: + +'Is not yonder Casinum?' + +'It is. We will bear you thither for harbourage. Courage, friend!' + +'Above, on the mountain,' continued Basil painfully, 'dwells my kinsman +Benedict, with his holy men. Could I but reach the monastery!' + +'Why, perchance you may,' replied the captain. 'And in truth you would +be better cared for there.' + +'Help me, good Venantius!' panted Basil, with eyes of entreaty. 'Let me +die in the monastery.' + +In those days of pestilence, every fever-stricken person was an object +of dread to all but the most loving or the most courageous. The +stalwart Venantius thought for a moment of carrying Basil before him on +his horse, but prudence overcame this humane impulse. Into the +carriage, for the same reason (had there been no other), he could not +be put; but there was a vacant place beside the driver, and here, +supported with cords, he managed to keep his seat until they arrived at +Casinum. + +Owing to its position on the highroad, trodden by so many barbaric +armies, this city had suffered repeated devastation. Its great +buildings stood desolate, or had fallen to utter ruin, and the country +around, once famous for its fertility, showed but a few poor farms. +What inhabitants remained dwelt at the foot of the great hill on whose +summit rose the citadel, still united with the town by two great walls. +After passing between the tombs on the Latin Way, memorials of citizens +long dead, the travellers entered by an unprotected gateway, and here +Venantius called a halt. Wishing to make no longer pause than was +needful to put the sick man in safety, he despatched a few soldiers +through the silent town to seek for means of conveying Basil up to the +monastery on the height. By good luck these emissaries came upon a +couple of monks, who lost no time in arranging for the conveyance of +the sufferer. A light cart drawn by two mules speedily appeared, and on +this Basil was laid. One only of his men did Venantius allow to +accompany him, the others were bidden ride on with the captain's own +soldiers to Aesernia. + +'There you will find us all when you are on your legs again,' said +Venantius, 'unless by that time we have marched Romewards, in which +case you shall have a message. Trust me to look after all you left +there; I answer for its safety and for that of your good fellows. Keep +up heart, and God make you sound.' + +Basil, couched on a bed of dry leaves, raised himself so as to watch +the troop as it rode forth again from the ruined gate. Whether she who +sat hidden within the carriage had heard of his evil plight he knew +not, and could not have brought himself to ask. The last of his own +horsemen (some of whom had taken leave of him with tears) having +vanished from sight, he fell back, and for a while knew nothing but the +burning torment in his brain. + +The ascent of the mountain began. It was a rough, narrow road, winding +through a thick forest of oak and beech trees, here and there so steep +as to try the firm footing of the mules, and in places dangerous +because of broken ground on the edge of precipitous declivities. The +cart was driven by its owner, a peasant of Casinum, who at times sat +sideways on one of the beasts, at times walked by them; behind came the +two religious men, cowled, bare-footed; and last Basil's attendant on +horseback. + +From Venantius the monks had learned who their charge was. His noble +origin, and still more the fact of his kindred with their beloved Abbot +Benedict, inspired in them a special interest. They spoke of him in +whispers together, compassionated his sufferings, remarked on the +comeliness of his features, and assured each other that they detected +in him no symptom of the plague. It being now the third hour, they +ceased from worldly talk and together recited their office, whereto the +peasant and the horseman gave pious ear. + +Basil lay with closed eyes, but at a certain moment he seemed to become +aware of what was passing, crossed himself, and then folded his hands +upon his breast in the attitude of prayer. Having observed this, one of +the monks, his orisons finished, went up to the cart and spoke +comfortable words. He was a man in the prime of life, with cheek as +fresh as a maid's, and a step that seemed incapable of weariness; his +voice sounded a note of gentle kindness which caused the sufferer to +smile at him in gratitude. + +'This tree,' he said presently, pointing to a noble beech, its bole +engraven with a cross, 'marks the middle point of the ascent. A weary +climb for the weak, but not without profit to him who thinks as he +walks--for, as our dear brother Marcus has said, in those verses we are +never tired of repeating:-- + + "Semper difficili quaeruntur summa labore, + Arctam semper habet vita beata viam."' + +The other monk, an older man, who walked less vigorously, echoed the +couplet with slow emphasis, as if savouring every word. Then both +together, bowing their cowled heads, exclaimed fervently: + +'Thanks be to God for the precious gifts of our brother Marcus!' + +Basil endeavoured to utter a few words, but he was now so feeble that +he could scarce make his voice heard above the creak of the wheels. +Again he closed his eyes, and his companions pursued their way in +silence. When at length they issued from the forest they overlooked a +vast landscape of hill and valley, with heads of greater mountains high +above them. Here rose the walls of the citadel, within which Benedict +had built his monastery. For some distance around these ancient +ramparts the ground was tilled, and flourishing with various crops. At +the closed gateway of the old Arx, flanked by a tower, the monks rang, +and were at once admitted into the courtyard, where, in a few moments, +the prior and all his brethren came forward to greet the strangers. +Because of Basil's condition the ceremony usual on such arrivals was in +his case curtailed: the prior uttered a brief prayer, gave the kiss of +peace, and ordered forthwith the removal of the sick man to a +guest-chamber, where he was laid in bed and ministered to by the +brother Marcus, whose gifts as a healer were not less notable than his +skill in poesy. The horseman, meanwhile, as custom was with all +visitors, had been led to the oratory to hear a passage of Holy +Scripture; after which the prior poured water upon his hands, and +certain of the monks washed his feet. + +Before sunset Basil lost consciousness of present things; and many days +went by before he again spoke as a sane man. When at length the fever +declined, and his head turned upon the pillow in search of a human +countenance, he saw standing beside him a venerable figure in the +monastic garb, whose visage, though wrinkled with age and thought, had +such noble vividness in its look, and wore a smile so like that of +youth in its half-playful sweetness, that Basil could but gaze +wonderingly, awestruck at once, and charmed by this unexpected +apparition. + +'My son,' sounded in a voice grave and tender, 'be your first syllables +uttered to Him by whose omnipotent will you are restored to the life of +this world.' + +With the obedience of a child he clasped his thin hands, and murmured +the prayer of childhood. Then the gracious figure bent over him. He +felt the touch of lips upon his forehead, and in the same moment fell +asleep. + +It was night when he again woke. A little lamp revealed bare walls of +stone, a low, timbered ceiling, a floor of red tiles. Basil's eyes, as +soon as they were open, looked for the venerable figure which he +remembered. Finding no one, he thought the memory was but of a dream. +Feeling wonderfully at ease in body and calm in mind, he lay musing on +that vision of the noble countenance, doubting after all whether a +dream could have left so distinct an impression, when all at once there +fell upon his ear a far sound of chanting, a harmony so sweetly solemn +that it melted his heart and filled his eyes with tears. Not long +after, when all was silent again, he heard the sound of soft footsteps +without, and in the same moment the door of his cell opened. The face +which looked in seemed not quite unknown to him, though he could not +recall where he had seen it. + +'You have slept long, dear brother,' said Marcus, with a happy smile. +'Is all well with you?' + +'Well, God be thanked,' was the clear but faint reply. + +The poet-physician, a small, nervous, bright-eyed man of some forty +years, sat down on a stool by the bedside and began talking cheerfully. +He had just come from matins, and was this morning excused from lauds +because it behoved him to gather certain herbs, to be used medicinally +in the case of a brother who had fallen sick yesterday. Touching a +little gold locket which Basil wore round his neck on a gold thread he +asked what this contained, and being told that it was a morsel of the +Crown of Thorns, he nodded with satisfaction. + +'We questioned whether to leave it on you or not, for we could not open +it, and there was a fear lest it might contain something'--he smiled +and shook his bead and sighed--'much less sacred. The lord abbot, +doubtless'--here his voice sank--'after a vision, though of this he +spoke not, decided that it should be left. There was no harm, for all +that'--his eyes twinked merrily--'in tying this upon the place where +you suffered so grievously.' + +From amid Basil's long hair he detached what looked like a tiny skein +of hemp, which, with an air singularly blended of shrewdness and +reverence, he declared to be a portion of a garb of penitence worn by +the Holy Martin, to whom the oratory here was dedicated. Presently +Basil found strength to ask whether the abbot had been beside him. + +'Many times,' was the answer. 'The last, no longer ago than yestereve, +ere he went to compline. You would have seen him on the day of your +arrival, ere yet you became distraught, but that a heaviness lay upon +him because of the loss of a precious manuscript on its way hither from +Rome--a manuscript which had been procured for him after much +searching, only to be lost by the folly of one to whom it was +intrusted; if, indeed, it was not rather whisked away by the Evil One, +who, powerless for graver ill against our holy father, at times seeks +to discomfort him by small practice of spite. Sorrow for this loss +brought on a distemper to which his age is subject.' + +Reminded all at once that he had no time to lose, Marcus threw open the +shutter, extinguished the lamp, and slipped away, leaving his patient +with eyes turned to the pale glimmer of dawn at the tiny window. Now +only did there stir in Basil clear recollection of the events which had +preceded his coming hither. Marcus's sly word in regard to the locket +had awakened his mind, and in a few moments he thought connectedly. But +without emotion, unless it were a vague, tender sadness. All seemed to +have happened so long ago. It was like a story he had heard in days +gone by. He thought of it until his brain began to weary, then again +came sleep. + +A day or two passed. He had begun to eat with keen appetite, and his +strength increased hour by hour. On a Sunday, after the office of the +third hour, Marcus cheerily gave him permission to rise. This prompted +Basil to inquire whether his man, who had come with him, was still in +the monastery. Marcus, with eyes averted, gave a nod. Might he speak +with him, Basil asked. Presently, presently, was the answer. Marcus +himself aided the convalescent to dress; then having seated him in a +great chair of rude wickerwork, used only on occasions such as this, +left him to bask in a beam of sunshine. Before long, his meal was +brought him, and with it a book, bound in polished wood and metal, +which he found to be a Psalter. Herein, when he had eaten, he read for +an hour or so, not, however, without much wandering of the thoughts. He +had fallen into reverie, when his door opened, and there appeared +before him the Abbot Benedict. + +Basil started up, stood for a moment in agitation, then sank upon his +knees, with head reverently bowed. + +'Rise, rise, my son,' spoke the voice which had so moved him in his +vision of a week ago, a voice subdued by years, but perfectly steady +and distinct. 'Our good brother Marcus assures me that I may talk with +you a little while without fear of overtasking your strength--nay, sit +where you were, I pray you. Thanks be to God, I need not support for my +back.' + +So saying, the abbot seated himself on the stool, and gazed at Basil +with a smile of infinite benevolence. + +'Your face,' he continued, 'speaks to me of a time very far away. I see +in it the presentment of your father's father, with whom, when he was +much of your age, I often talked. His mother had a villa at Nursia, the +home of my youth. Once he turned aside from a journey to visit me when +I dwelt at Sublaqueum.' + +The reminiscence checked his tongue he kept silence for a moment, +musing gravely. + +'But these are old stories, my Basil, and you are young. Tell me +somewhat of your parents, and of your own life. Did not your good +father pass away whilst at Constantinople?' + +Thus, with perfect simplicity, with kindliest interest in things human, +did Benedict draw the young man into converse. He put no question that +touched on the inner life, and Basil uttered not a word concerning his +late distress, but they touched for a moment upon public affairs, and +Basil learnt, without show of special interest, that Totila still +lingered in Campania. + +'Your follower, Deodatus,' said the abbot presently, 'begs each day for +permission to see you. The good fellow has not lived in idleness; he is +a brave worker in wood, and by chance we much needed one of his craft. +Not many things of this world give me more pleasure than to watch a +cunning craftsman as he smooths timber, and fits the pieces together, +and makes of them something that shall serve the needs of men. Is it +not, in some sort, to imitate the great Artificer? Would, O Basil, that +our country had more makers and fewer who live but to destroy.' + +'Would it were so, indeed!' sighed Basil, in a low, fervent voice. + +'But the end is not yet,' pursued Benedict, his eyes gazing straight +before him, as if they beheld the future. 'Men shall pray for peace, +but it will not be granted them, so great are the iniquities of the +world which utters the name of Christ, yet knows Him not.' + +He paused with troubled brow. Then, as if reminding himself that his +hearer had need of more encouraging words, he said cheerfully: + +'To-morrow, perchance, you will have strength to leave your room. +Deodatus shall come to you in the morning. When you can walk so far, I +will pray you to visit me in my tower. You knew not that I inhabit a +tower? Even as the watchman who keeps guard over a city. And,' he added +more gravely, as if to himself rather than to the listener, 'God grant +that my watch be found faithful.' + +Thereupon the abbot rose, and gently took his leave; and Basil, through +all the rest of the day, thought of him and of every word he had +uttered. + +Not long after sunrise on the morrow, Deodatus was allowed to enter. +This man, whose age was something more than thirty, was the son of a +serf on Basil's land, and being of very peaceful disposition, had with +some reluctance answered the summons to arm himself and follow his lord +to the wars. Life in the monastery thoroughly suited his temper; when +Basil encouraged him to talk, he gave a delighted account of the way in +which his days were spent; spoke with simple joy of the many religious +services he attended, and had no words in which to express his devotion +to the abbot. + +'Why, Deodatus,' exclaimed his master, smiling, 'you lack but the cowl +to be a very monk.' + +'My duty is to my lord,' answered the man, bending his head. + +'Tell me now whether any news has reached you, in all this time, of +those from whom my sickness parted us.' + +But Deodatus had heard nothing of his fellows, and nothing of Venantius. + +'It may be,' said Basil, 'that I shall send you to tell them how I +fare, and to bring back tidings. Your horse is at hand?' + +As he spoke he detected a sadness on the man's countenance. Without +more words, he dismissed him. + +That day he sat in the open air, in a gallery whence he could survey a +great part of the monastic buildings, and much of the mountain summit +on its western side. For an hour he had the companionship of Marcus, +who, pointing to this spot and to that, instructed Basil in the history +of what he saw, now and then reciting his own verses on the subject. He +told how Benedict, seeking with a little company of pious followers for +a retreat from the evil of the world, came to ruined Casinum, and found +its few wretched inhabitants fallen away from Christ, worshipping the +old gods in groves and high places. Here, on the mountain top, stood +temples of Jupiter, of Apollo, and of Venus. The house of Apollo he +purified for Christian service, and set under the invocation of the +Holy Martin. The other temples he laid low, and having cut down the +grove sacred to Apollo, on that spot he raised an oratory in the name +of the Baptist. Not without much spiritual strife was all this +achieved; for--the good Marcus subdued his voice--Satan himself more +than once overthrew what the monks had built, and, together with the +demons whom Benedict had driven forth, often assailed the holy band +with terrors and torments. Had not the narrator, who gently boasted a +part in these beginnings, been once all but killed by a falling column, +which indeed must have crushed him, but that he stretched out a hand in +which, by happy chance, he was holding a hammer, and this--for a hammer +is cruciform--touching the great pillar, turned its fall in another +direction. Where stood the temple of Venus was now a vineyard, yielding +excellent wine. + +'Whereof, surely, you must not drink?' interposed Basil, with a smile. + +'Therein, good brother,' replied Marcus, 'you show but little knowledge +of our dear lord abbot. He indeed abstains from wine, for such has been +the habit of his life, but to us he permits it, for the stomach's sake; +being of opinion that labour is a form of worship, and well +understanding that labour, whether of body or of mind, can only be +performed by one in health. This very day you shall taste of our +vintage, which I have hitherto withheld from you, lest it should +overheat your languid blood.' + +Many other questions did Basil ask concerning the rule of the +monastery. He learned that the day was equitably portioned out (worship +apart) between manual and mental work. During summer, the cooler hours +of morning and afternoon were spent in the field, and the middle of the +day in study; winter saw this order reversed. On Sunday the monks +laboured not with their hands, and thought only of the Word of God. The +hours of the divine office suffered, of course, no change all the year +round: their number in the daytime was dictated by that verse of the +Psalmist: 'Septies in die laudem dixi tibi'; therefore did the +community assemble at lauds, at prime, at the third hour, at mid-day, +at the ninth hour, at vespers, and at compline. They arose, moreover, +for prayer at midnight, and for matins before dawn. On all this the +hearer mused when he was left alone, and with his musing blended a +sense of peace such as had never before entered into his heart. + +He had returned to his chamber, and was reposing on the bed, when there +entered one of the two monks by whom he was conveyed up the mountain. +With happy face, this visitor presented to him a new volume, which, he +declared with modest pride, was from beginning to end the work of his +own hand. + +'But an hour ago I finished the binding,' he added, stroking the +calf-skin affectionately. 'And when I laid it before the venerable +father, who is always indulgent to those who do their best, he was +pleased to speak kind things. "Take it to our noble guest," he said, +"that he may see how we use the hours God grants us. And it may be that +he would like to read therein."' + +The book was a beautiful copy of Augustine's _De Civitate Dei_. Basil +did indeed peruse a page or two, but again his thoughts began to +wander. He turned the leaves, looking with pleasure at the fine initial +letters in red ink. They reminded him of his cousin Decius, whom a +noble manuscript would transport with joy. And thought of Decius took +him back to Surrentum. He fell into a dream. + +On the morrow, at noon, he was well enough to descend to the refectory, +where he had a seat at the abbot's table. His meal consisted of a roast +pigeon, a plate of vegetables, honey and grapes, with bread which +seemed to him better than he had ever tasted, and wine whereof his +still weak head bade him partake very modestly. The abbot's dinner, he +saw, was much simpler: a bowl of milk, a slice of bread, and a couple +of figs. After the kindly greeting with which he was received, there +was no conversation, for a monk read aloud during the repast. Basil +surveyed with interest the assembly before him. Most of the faces +glowed with health, and on all was manifest a simple contentment such +as he had hitherto seen only in the eyes of children. Representatives +were here of every social rank, but the majority belonged to honourable +families: high intelligence marked many countenances, but not one +showed the shadow of anxious or weary thought. + +These are men, said Basil to himself, who either have never known the +burden of life, or have utterly cast it off; they live without a care, +without a passion. And then there suddenly flashed upon his mind what +seemed an all-sufficient explanation of this calm, this happiness. Here +entered no woman. Woman's existence was forgotten, alike by young and +old; or, if not forgotten, had lost all its earthly taint, as in the +holy affection (of which Marcus had spoken to him) cherished by the +abbot for his pious sister Scholastica. Here, he clearly saw, was the +supreme triumph of the religious life. But, instead of quieting, the +thought disturbed him. He went away thinking thoughts which he would +fain have kept at a distance. + +The ninth hour found him in the oratory, and later he attended vespers, +at which office the monks sang an evening hymn of the holy Ambrosius:-- + + 'O lux, beata Trinitas, et principalis Uuitas, + Jam sol recedit igneus; infunde lumen cordibus. + + Te mane laudum carmine, te deprecemur vesperi, + Te nostra supplex gloria per cuncta laudet saecula.' + +The long sweet notes lingered in Basil's mind when he lay down to rest. +And, as he crossed himself before sleeping, the only prayer he breathed +was: '_Infunde lumen cordi meo_.' + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +THE ABBOT'S TOWER + + +On the morrow he rose earlier, talking the while with his servant +Deodatus. This good fellow continued to exhibit so deep an affection +for the life of the monastery that Basil was at length moved to ask him +whether, if he had the choice, he would veritably become a monk. +Deodatus looked at his master with eyes of pathetic earnestness, tried +in vain to speak, and burst into tears. Instructed by a vocation so +manifest, Basil began to read more clearly in his own heart, where, in +spite of the sorrows he had borne and of the troublous uncertainties +that lay before him, he found no such readiness to quit the world. He +could approve the wisdom of those who renounced the flesh, to be +rewarded with tranquillity on earth and eternal happiness hereafter; +but his will did not ally itself with his intellect. Moreover, was it +certain, he asked himself, that all who embraced the religious life +were so rewarded? In turning the pages of Augustine's work, he had come +upon a passage which arrested his eye and perturbed his thought, a +passage which seemed clearly to intimate that the soul's eternal +destiny had from the beginning of things been decided by God, some men +being created for bliss, more for damnation. Basil did not dwell +profoundly on this doubt; his nature inclined not at all to theological +scrutiny, nor to spiritual brooding; but it helped to revive in him the +energies which sickness had abated, and to throw him back on that +simple faith, that Christianity of everyday, in which he had grown up. + +Going forth in the mellow sunshine, he turned his steps to a garden of +vegetables where he saw monks at work. They gave him gentle greeting, +and one, he who had brought the volume yesterday, announced that the +abbot invited Basil to visit him after the office of the third hour. +Thereupon all worked in silence, he watching them. + +When the time came, he was conducted to the abbot's dwelling, which was +the tower beside the ancient gateway of the Arx. It contained but two +rooms, one above the other; below, the founder of the monastery studied +and transacted business; in the upper chamber he prayed and slept. +When, in reply to his knock at the study door, the voice, now familiar, +but for that no less impressive, bade him come forward, Basil felt his +heart beat quickly; and when he stood alone in that venerable presence, +all his new-born self-confidence fell away from him. Beholding the aged +man seated at a table on which lay books, amid perfect stillness, in +the light from a large window; before him a golden cross, and, on +either side of it, a bowl of sweet-scented flowers; he seemed only now +to remember that this was that Benedict whose fame had gone forth into +many lands, whose holiness already numbered him with the blessed saints +rather than with mortal men, of whom were recounted things miraculous. +Looking upon that face, which time touched only to enhance its calm, +only to make yet purer its sweet humanity, he felt himself an idle and +wanton child, and his entrance hither a profanation. + +'Come and sit by me, son Basil,' said the abbot. 'I am at leisure, and +shall be glad to hear you speak of many things. Tell me first, do you +love reading?' + +Basil answered with simple truth, that of late years he had scarce read +at all, his inclination being rather to the active life. + +'So I should have surmised. But chancing to look from my upper window +not long after sunrise, I saw you walking with a book in your hand. +What was it?' + +Basil murmured that it was the Book of Psalms. + +'Look, then,' said Benedict, 'at what lies before me. Here is a +commentary on that book, written by the learned and pious Cassiodorus; +written in the religious house which he himself has founded, upon the +shore of "ship-wrecking Scylaceum," as saith Virgilius. Not a week ago +it came into my hands, a precious gift from the writer, and I have read +much in it. On the last of his many journeys, travelling from Ravenna +to the south, he climbed hither, and sojourned with us for certain +days, and great was my solace in the communing we had together. +Perchance you knew him in the world?' + +Gladly Basil recounted his memories of the great counsellor. And the +abbot listened with an attentive smile. + +'I marvel not that you loved him. Reading in these pages, I am +delighted by the graces of his mind, and taught by the sanctity of his +spirit. At the very beginning, how sweetly does his voice sound. +Listen. "Trusting in the Lord's command, I knock at the doors of the +heavenly mystery, that He may open to my understanding His flowery +abodes, and that, permitted to enter the celestial garden, I may pluck +spiritual fruit without the sin of the first man. Verily this book +shines like a lamp; it is the salve of a wounded spirit, sweet as honey +to the inner man. So much hath it of beauty for the senses, such +healing in its balmy words, that to it may be applied the words of +Solomon: 'A closed garden, and a fountain sealed, a paradise abounding +in all fruits.' For if Paradise be deemed desirable because it is +watered by the delightful flow of four rivers, how much more blessed is +the mind which is refreshed by the founts of one hundred and fifty +psalms!"' + +Basil scarce heeded the sense of the passage read to him. He could hear +only the soft music of the aged voice, which lulled him into a calm +full of faith and trust. + +'Is not this better,' asked Benedict gently, whilst his eyes searched +the young man's countenance, 'than to live for the service of kings, +and to utter worldly counsel?' + +'Better far, I cannot doubt,' Basil replied with humility. + +'Utter the rest of your thought,' said the abbot, smiling. 'You cannot +doubt--and yet? Utter your mind to me, dear son.' + +'My father, I obey you, desiring indeed with all my soul to seek your +guidance. My heart has been too much in this world, and for one thought +given to things eternal, I have bestowed a hundred upon my own sorrows, +and on those of Italy.' + +His voice faltered, his head drooped. + +'I say not,' murmured the listener, 'that you do wrong to love your +country.' + +'Holy father, I were a hypocrite if I spoke of my country first of all. +For all but a year gone by, another love has possessed me. Forgive me +that I dare to speak such a word before you.' + +The abbot turned his eyes to the window. Upon the sill had settled two +doves, which seemed to regard him curiously. He made a soft gesture +with his hand, and the birds flew away. + +'Speak on,' he said after brief reflection, and with the same +indulgence. 'He who tells all speaks not to man but to God.' + +And Basil told all; told it with humble simplicity, with entire +truthfulness, recounting his history from the day when he first beheld +Veranilda to the dreadful hour when Marcian's blood stained his hands. +He began in calm, but the revival of emotions which had slept during +his sickness and his convalescence soon troubled him profoundly. Not +only did the dormant feelings wake up again, but things which he had +forgotten rushed into his memory. So, when he came to the last +interview with Veranilda, he remembered, for the first time since that +day, what he had said to her, and the recollection dismayed him. He +burst into tears, overwhelmed at once with misery and shame. + +'It may be,' he sobbed, 'that she was innocent. Suffering had driven me +mad, and I uttered words such as never should have passed my lips. If +she is guiltless, there lives no baser man than I. For I reproached +her--my father, how you will scorn me!--I cast at her in reproach her +father's treachery.' + +The abbot's brow rested upon his hand. It was thus he had listened, +unmoving, throughout the story; nor did he now stir, until Basil, +having ceased alike from speaking and from tears, had sat for a little +while in stillness and reflection. Then at length he turned his eyes +upon the young man, and spoke with sad gravity. + +'Even so, even so. You gave your heart to a woman, and worshipped at +her feet, and behold there has come upon you the guilt of blood. Not, +you would protest, through your own fault; your friend was false to +you, and in just wrath you slew him. Who made you, O Basil, his judge +and his executioner?' + +'Father, I seek not to excuse my sin.' + +'It is well. And what penance will you lay upon yourself?' + +Utterly subdued by awe, oblivious of his own will in the presence of +one so much more powerful, Basil murmured that whatever penance the man +of God saw fit to impose that would he perform. + +'Nay,' said Benedict gently, 'that is too like presumption. Say rather, +you would endeavour to perform it. I will believe that if I bade you +fast long, or repeat many prayers, you would punctually obey me. But +what if I demanded of you that against which not only your flesh, but +all the motive of your life, rebelled? It were not too much; yet dare +you promise to achieve it?' + +Basil looked up fearfully, and answered with tremulous lips: + +'Not in my own strength; but perchance with the help of God.' + +A grave smile passed over Benedict's countenance. + +'It is well, my son; again, it is well. Come now, and let us reason of +this your sin. You avow to me that God and His commands have ever been +little in your mind, whereas you have thought much of this world and +its governance. I might ask you how it is possible to reflect on the +weal and woe of human kind without taking count of Him who made the +world and rules it; but let me approach you with a narrower inquiry. +You tell me that you love your country, and desire its peace. How comes +it, then, that you are numbered with the violent, the lawless, with +those who renounce their citizenship and dishonour the State? Could not +all your worldly meditations preserve you from so gross an incoherence +of thought and action?' + +'Indeed, it should have done.' + +'And would, perchance, had not your spleen overcome your reason. Why, +that is the case, O Basil, of all but every man who this day calls +himself a Roman citizen. Therefore is it that Italy lies under the +wrath of the Most High. Therefore is it that Rome has fallen, and that +the breath of pestilence, the sword of the destroyer, yea, earthquake +and flood and famine, desolate the land. Yet you here find little time, +my son, to meditate the laws of God, being so busied for the welfare of +men. Methinks your story has aimed a little wide.' + +Basil bent low before this gentle irony, which softened his heart. The +abbot mused a moment, gazing upon the golden cross. + +'In the days of old,' he continued, 'Romans knew how to subdue their +own desires to the good of their country. He who, in self-seeking, +wronged the State, was cast forth from its bosom. Therefore was it that +Rome grew mighty, the Omnipotent fostering her for ends which the +fulness of time should disclose. Such virtue had our ancestors, even +though they worshipped darkly at the altars of daemons. But from that +pride they fell, for their hearts were hardened; and, at length, when +heathendom had wellnigh destroyed the principle whereby they waxed, God +revealed Himself unto His chosen, that ancient virtue and new faith +might restore the world. To turn your thought upon these things, I sent +you the book written long ago by the holy father Augustine, concerning +the Divine State. Have you read in it?' + +'Some little,' answered Basil, 'but with wandering mind.' + +'Therein you will discover, largely expounded, these reasonings I do +but touch upon. I would have you trace God's working in the past, and, +by musing upon what now is, ripen yourself in that citizenship whereon +you have prided yourself, though you neither understood its true +meaning nor had the strength to perform its duties. Losing sight of the +Heavenly City for that which is on earth, not even in your earthly +service were you worthy of the name of Roman; and, inasmuch as you +wronged the earthly Rome, even so did you sin against that Eternal +State of the Supreme Lord whereof by baptism you were made a citizen. +By such as you, O Basil, is the anger of our God prolonged, and lest +you should think that, amid a long and bloody war, amid the trampling +of armies, the fall of cities, one death more is of no account, I say +to you that, in the eyes of the All-seeing, this deed of yours may be +of heavier moment than the slaughter of a battlefield. From your own +lips it is manifest that you had not even sound assurance of the guilt +you professed to punish. It may be that the man had not wronged you as +you supposed. A little patience, a little of the calm which becomes a +reasoning soul, and you might not only have saved yourself from crime, +but have resolved what must now ever be a doubt to your harassed +thoughts.' + +'Such words did Veranilda herself speak,' exclaimed Basil. 'And I, in +my frenzy, thought them only a lamentation for the death of her lover.' + +'Call it frenzy; but remember, O my son, that no less a frenzy was +every act of your life, and every thought, which led you on the path to +that ultimate sin. Frenzy it is to live only for the flesh; frenzy, to +imagine that any good can come of aught you purpose without beseeching +the divine guidance.' + +Much else did the abbot utter in this vein of holy admonition. And +Basil would have listened with the acquiescence of a perfect faith, but +that there stirred within him the memory of what he had read in +Augustine's pages, darkening his spirit. At length he found courage to +speak of this, and asked in trembling tones: + +'Am I one of those born to sin and to condemnation? Am I of those +unhappy beings who strive in vain against a doom predetermined by the +Almighty?' + +Benedict's countenance fell; not as if in admission of a dread +possibility, but rather as in painful surprise. + +'You ask me,' he answered solemnly, after a pause, 'what no man should +ask even when he communes with his own soul in the stillness of night. +The Gospel is preached to all; nowhere in the word of God are any +forbidden to hear it, or, hearing, to accept its solace. Think not upon +that dark mystery, which even to the understandings God has most +enlightened shows but as a formless dread. The sinner shall not brood +upon his sin, save to abhor it. Shall he who repents darken repentance +with a questioning of God's mercy? Then indeed were there no such thing +as turning from wrong to righteousness.' + +'When I sent you that book,' he resumed, after observing the relief +that came to Basil's face, 'I had in mind only its salutary teaching +for such as live too much in man's world, and especially for those who, +priding themselves upon the name of Roman, are little given to +reflection upon all the evil Rome has wrought. Had I known what lay +upon your conscience, I should have withheld from you everything but +Holy Writ.' + +'My man, Deodatus, had not spoken?' asked Basil. + +'Concerning you, not a word. I did not permit him to be questioned, and +his talk has been only of his own sins.' + +Basil wondered at this discretion in a simple rustic; yet, on a second +thought, found it consistent with the character of Deodatus, as lately +revealed to him. + +'He has been long your faithful attendant?' inquired the abbot. + +'Not so. Only by chance was he chosen from my horsemen to accompany me +hither. My own servant, Felix, being wounded, lay behind at Aesernia.' + +'If he be as honest and God-fearing as this man,' said Benedict, 'whose +name, indeed, seems well to become him, then are you fortunate in those +who tend upon you. But of this and other such things we will converse +hereafter. Listen now, son Basil, to my bidding. You have abstained +from the Table of the Lord, and it is well. Today, and every day until +I again summon you, you will read aloud in privacy the Seven +Penitential Psalms, slowly and with meditation; and may they grave +themselves in your heart, to remain there, a purification and a hope, +whilst you live.' + +Basil bowed his head, and whispered obedience. + +'Moreover, so far as your strength will suffer it, you shall go daily +into the garden or the field, and there work with the brethren. Alike +for soul and for body it is good to labour under God's sky, and above +all to till God's earth and make it fruitful. For though upon Adam, in +whom we all died, was laid as a punishment that he should eat only that +which he had planted in the sweat of his brow, yet mark, O Basil, that +the Creator inflicts no earthly punishment which does not in the end +bear fruit of healing and of gladness. What perfume is so sweet as that +of the new-turned soil? And what so profitable to health? When the +Romans of old time began to fall from virtue--such virtue as was +permitted to those who knew not God--the first sign of their evil state +was the forgotten plough. And never again can Italy be blessed--if it +be the will of the Almighty that peace be granted her--until valley and +mountain side and many-watered plain are rich with her children's +labour. I do not bid you live in silence, for silence is not always a +good counsellor; but refrain from merely idle speech, and strive, O +Basil, strive with all the force that is in you, that your thoughts be +turned upward. Go now, my son. It shall not be long before I again call +you to my tower.' + +So, with a look of kindness which did not soften to a smile, Benedict +dismissed his penitent. When the door had closed, he sat for a few +minutes with head bent, then roused himself, glanced at the clepsydra +which stood in a corner of the room, and turned a page or two of the +volume lying before him. Presently his attention was caught by the +sound of fluttering wings; on the window sill had again alighted the +two doves, and again they seemed to regard him curiously. The aged face +brightened with tenderness. + +'Welcome,' he murmured, 'ye whose love is innocent.' + +From a little bag that lay on the table he drew grains, and scattered +them on the floor. The doves flew down and ate, and, as he watched +them, Benedict seemed to forget all the sorrows of the world. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +VIVAS IN DEO + + +The telling of his story was to Basil like waking from a state of +imperfect consciousness in which dream and reality had +indistinguishably mingled. Since the fight with the brigands he had +never been himself; the fever in his blood made him incapable of wonted +thought or action; restored to health, he looked back upon those days +with such an alien sense that he could scarce believe he had done the +things he related. Only now did their move in him a natural horror when +he thought of the death of Marcian, a natural distress when he +remembered his bearing to Veranilda. Only now could he see in the light +of reason all that had happened between his talk with Sagaris at +Aesernia and his riding away with Venantius from the villa on the +island. As he unfolded the story, he marvelled at himself, and was +overcome with woe. + +There needed not the words of the holy abbot to show him how blindly he +had acted. He could see now that, however it might appear, the guilt of +Marcian was quite unproved. The Syrian slave might have lied, or else +have uttered a mistaken suspicion. It might be true that Marcian had +been misled by some calumniator into thinking evil of his friend. And +had he not heard the declaration of Veranilda, that she had suffered no +wrong at his hands? Basil saw the face of his beloved. Only a man +possessed by the Evil Spirit could have answered her as he had done. +Was not the fact that Marcian had brought Veranilda to his villa in +order to give her into the hands of Totila sufficient proof that he had +neither wronged her nor meditated wrong? Ay, but Basil reminded himself +that he had accused Veranilda of amorous complicity with Marcian. And +at this recollection his brain whirled. + +Even were it permitted him ever to behold her again, how could he stand +before her? Must she not abhor him, as one whose baseness surpassed all +she had thought possible in the vilest slave? Jealousy was pardonable; +in its rage, a man might slay and be forgiven. But for the reproach +with which he had smitten her--her, pure and innocent--there could be +no forgiveness. It was an act of infamy, branding him for ever. + +Thoughts such as these intermingled with his reading of the Psalms of +penitence. Ever and again grief overwhelmed him, and he wept bitterly. +At the hour of the evening meal, he would willingly have remained in +his cell, to fast and mourn alone; but this, he felt, would have been +to shirk part of his penance; for, though the brothers knew not of his +sin, he could not meet their eyes for shame, and such humiliation must +needs be salutary. This evening other guests sat at the abbot's table, +and he shrank from their notice, for though they were but men of humble +estate, pilgrims from Lucania, he felt debased before them. The +reading, to which all listened during their meal, was selected from +that new volume of Cassiodorus so esteemed by the abbot; it closed with +a prayer in which Basil found the very utterance his soul needed. + +'O Lord, our Teacher and Guide, our Advocate and Judge, Thou the +Bestower and the Admonitor, terrible and clement, Rebuker and Consoler, +who givest sight to the blind, who makest possible to the weak that +which Thou commandest, who art so good that Thou desirest to be for +ever petitioned, so merciful that Thou sufferest no one to despair; +grant us that which we ask with Thy approval, and yet more that which +in our ignorance we fail to beseech. How weak we are, Thou indeed +knowest; by what a foe we are beset, Thou art aware. In the unequal +contest, in our mortal infirmity, we turn to Thee, for it is the glory +of Thy Majesty when the meek sheep overcomes the roaring lion, when the +Evil Spirit is repulsed by feeble flesh. Grant that our enemy, who +rejoices in our offending, may be saddened by the sight of human +happiness. Amen.' + +He rose, for the first time, to attend the midnight office, Deodatus, +who was punctual as a monk at all the hours, awaking him from sleep. +But Marcus whispered an admonishing word. + +'I praise your zeal, good brother; nevertheless, as your physician, I +cannot suffer your night's rest to be broken. Descend for lauds, if you +will, but not earlier.' + +Basil bowed in obedience. Lauds again saw him at prayer. Hitherto, when +they were together in the oratory, it had been the habit of Deodatus to +kneel behind his master; this morning Basil placed himself by his +servant's side. They walked away together in the pearly light of dawn, +and Basil led the way to a sequestered spot, whence there was a view +over the broad valley of the Liris. Several times of late he had come +here, to gaze across the mountainous landscape, wondering where +Veranilda might be. Turning to his companion, he laid a hand on the +man's shoulder, and addressed him in a voice of much gentleness. + +'Did you leave nothing behind you, Deodatus, which would make the +thought of never returning to your home a sorrow?' + +'Nothing, my dear lord,' was the reply. 'In my lifetime I have seen +much grief and little solace. All I loved are dead.' + +'But you are young. Could you without a pang say farewell to the world?' + +Deodatus answered timidly: + +'Here is peace.' + +Continuing to question, Basil learnt that for this man the life of the +world was a weariness and a dread. Hardships of many kinds had +oppressed him from childhood; his was a meek soul, which had no place +amid the rudeness and violence of the times; from the first hour, the +cloistered life had cast a spell upon him. + +'Here is peace,' he repeated. 'Here one can forget everything but to +worship God. Could I remain here, I were the happiest of men.' + +And Basil mused, understanding, approving, yet unable to utter the same +words for himself. His eyes strayed towards the far valley, shimmering +in earliest daylight. He, too, had he not suffered dread things whilst +living in the world? And could he expect that life in the future would +be more kindly to him? None the less did his heart yearn for that +valley of human tribulation. He struggled to subdue it. + +'Deodatus, pray for me, that I may have strength to do that which I see +to be the best.' + +It was no forced humility. Very beautiful in Basil's eyes showed the +piety and calm which here surrounded him, and his reverence for the +founder of this house of peace fell little short of that with which he +regarded the Saints in heaven. Never before--unless it were at certain +moments when conversing with the Lady Silvia--had he felt the +loveliness of a life in which religion was supreme; and never, +assuredly, had there stirred within him a spirit so devout. He longed +to attain unto righteousness, that entire purity of will, which, it now +seemed to him, could be enjoyed only in monastic seclusion. All his +life he had heard praise of those who renounced the world; but their +merit had been to him a far-off, uncomprehended thing, without relation +to himself. Now he understood. A man, a sinner, it behoved him before +all else to chasten his soul that he might be pleasing unto God; and +behold the way! For one who had sinned so grievously, it might well be +that there was no other path of salvation. + +This morning he went forth with the monks to labour. Brother Marcus +conducted him to a plot of garden ground where there was light work to +be done, and there left him. Willingly did Basil set about this task, +which broke the monotony of the day, and, more than that, was in itself +agreeable to him. He had always found pleasure in the rustic life, and +of late, at his Asculan villa, had often wished he could abide in quiet +for the rest of his days amid the fields and the vineyards. Working in +the mellow sunlight, above him the soft blue sky of early autumn, and +all around the silence of mountain and of forest, he felt his health +renew itself. When the first drops of sweat stood upon his forehead he +wiped them away with earthy fingers, and the mere action--he knew not +why--gave him pleasure. + +But of a sudden he became aware that he had lost something. From the +little finger of his left hand had slipped his signet ring. It must +have fallen since he began working, and anxiously he searched for it +about the ground. Whilst he was thus occupied, Marcus came towards him, +carrying a great basket of vegetables. Not without diffidence, Basil +told what had happened. + +'You will rebuke me, holy brother, for heeding such a loss. But the +ring is very old; it has been worn by many of my ancestors, to them it +came, and from one who suffered martyrdom in the times of Diocletian.' + +'Then, indeed, I did well,' replied Marcus, 'to leave it on your finger +during your sickness. I looked at it and saw that it was a Christian +seal. Had it been one of those which are yet seen too often, with the +stamp of a daemon, I should have plucked it off, and perhaps have +destroyed it. The ring of a blessed martyr I Let us seek, let us seek! +But, brother Basil,' he added gravely, 'has there passed through your +heart no evil thought? I like not this falling of the ring.' + +Basil held up his wasted hand with a smile. + +'True, true; you have lost flesh. Be thankful for it, dear brother; so +much the easier you combat with him whose ally is this body of death. +True, the ring may have fallen simply because your finger was so thin. +But be warned, O Basil, against that habit of mind which interprets in +an earthly sense things of divine meaning.' + +'I had indeed let my thoughts dwell upon worldliness,' Basil admitted. + +The monk smiled a satisfied reproof. + +'Even so, even so! And look you! In the moment of your avowal my hand +falls upon the ring.' + +Rejoicing together, they inspected it. In the gold was set an onyx, +graven with the monogram of Christ, a wreath, and the motto, 'Vivas in +Deo.' Marcus knelt, and pressed the seal to his forehead, murmuring +ecstatically: + +'The ring of a blessed martyr!' + +'I am all unworthy to wear it,' said Basil, sincerely hesitating to +replace it on his finger. 'Indeed, I will not do so until I have spoken +with the holy father.' + +This resolve Marcus commended, and, with a kindly word, he went his +way. Basil worked on. To discipline his thoughts he kept murmuring, +'Vivas in Deo,' and reflecting upon the significance of the words; for, +often as he had seen them, he had never till now mused upon their +meaning. What was the life in God I Did it mean that of the world to +come? Ay, but how attain unto eternal blessedness save by striving to +anticipate on earth that perfection of hereafter? And so was he brought +again to the conclusion that, would he assure life eternal, he must +renounce all that lured him in mortality. + +The brothers returning from the field at the third hour signalled to +him that for to-day he had worked enough. One of them, in passing, gave +him a smile, and said good-naturedly: + +'Thou shalt eat the labour of thine hands; happy shalt thou be, and it +shall be well with thee.' + +Weary, but with the sense of healthful fatigue, Basil rested for an +hour on his bed. He then took the Psalter and opened it at hazard, and +the first words his eyes fell upon were: + +'Thou shalt eat the labour of thine hands; happy shalt thou be, and it +shall be well with thee.' + +'A happy omen,' he thought. But stay; what was this that followed? + +'Thy wife shall be as a fruitful vine by the sides of thine house; thy +children like olive plants round about thy table. + +'Behold, thus shall the man be blessed that feareth the Lord.' + +The blood rushed into his cheeks. He sat staring at the open page as +though in astonishment. He read and re-read the short psalm of which +these verses were part, and if a voice had spoken it to him from above +he could scarce have felt more moved by the message. Basil had never +been studious of the Scriptures, and, if ever he had known that they +contained such matter as this, it had quite faded from his memory. He +thought of the Holy Book as hostile to every form of earthly happiness, +its promises only for those who lived to mortify their natural desires. +Yet here was the very word of God encouraging him in his heart's hope. +Were not men wont to use the Bible as their oracle, opening the pages +at hazard, even as he had done? + +It was long before he could subdue his emotions so as to turn to the +reading imposed upon him. He brought himself at length into the fitting +mind by remembering that this wondrous promise was not for a sinner, a +murderer; and that only could he hope to merit such blessing if he had +truly repented, and won forgiveness. Stricken down by this reflection +he grew once more humble and sad. + +In the afternoon, as he was pacing alone in a little portico near the +abbot's tower, the prior approached him. This reverend man had hitherto +paid little or no attention to Basil. He walked ever with eyes cast +down as if in deep musing, yet it was well known that he observed +keenly, and that his duties to the community were discharged with +admirable zeal and competence. In the world he would have been a great +administrator. In the monastery he seemed to find ample scope for his +powers, and never varied from the character of a man who set piety and +learning above all else. Drawing nigh to Basil he greeted him gently, +and asked whether it would give him pleasure to see the copyists at +work. Basil gladly accepted this invitation, and was conducted to a +long, well-lit room, where, at great desks, sat some five or six of the +brothers, each bent over a parchment which would some day form portion +of a volume, writing with slow care, with the zeal of devotees and with +the joy of artists. Not a whisper broke upon the silence in which the +pen-strokes alone were audible. Stepping softly, the prior led his +companion from desk to desk, drawing attention, without a word, to the +nature of the book which in each case was being copied. It surprised +Basil to see that the monks busied themselves in reproducing not only +religious works but also the writings of authors who had lived in pagan +times, and of this he spoke when the prior had led him forth again. + +'Have you then been taught,' asked the prior, 'that it is sinful to +read Virgil and Statius, Livy and Cicero?' + +'Not so, reverend father,' he replied modestly, his eyes falling before +the good-humoured gaze. 'But I was so ill instructed as to think that +to those who had withdrawn from the world it might not be permitted.' + +'Father Hieronymus had no such misgiving,' said the prior, 'for he +himself, at Bethlehem, taught children to read the ancient poets; not +unmindful that the blessed Paul himself, in those writings which are +the food of our spirit, takes occasion to cite from more than one poet +who knew not Christ. If you would urge the impurity and idolatry which +deface so many pages of the ancients, let me answer you in full with a +brief passage of the holy Augustine. "For," says he, "as the Egyptians +had not only idols to be detested by Israelites, but also precious +ornaments of gold and silver, to be carried off by them in flight, so +the science of the Gentiles is not only composed of superstitions to be +abhorred, but of liberal arts to be used in the service of truth."' + +They walked a short distance without further speech, then the prior +stopped. + +'Many there are,' he said, with a gesture indicating the world below, +'who think that we flee the common life only for our souls' salvation. +So, indeed, it has been in former times, and God forbid that we should +speak otherwise than with reverence of those who abandoned all and +betook themselves to the desert that they might live in purity and +holiness. But to us, by the grace bestowed upon our holy father, has +another guidance been shown. Know, my son, that, in an evil time, we +seek humbly to keep clear, not for ourselves only, but for all men, the +paths of righteousness and of understanding. With heaven's blessing we +strive to preserve what else might utterly perish, to become not only +guardians of God's law but of man's learning.' + +Therewith did the prior take his leave, and Basil pondered much on what +he had heard. It was a new light to him, for, as his instructor +suspected, he shared the common view of coenobite aims, and still but +imperfectly understood the law of Benedict. All at once the life of +this cloister appeared before him in a wider and nobler aspect. In the +silent monks bent over their desks he saw much more than piety and +learning. They rose to a dignity surpassing that of consul or praefect. +With their pens they warred against the powers of darkness, a grander +conflict than any in which men drew sword. He wished he could talk of +this with his cousin Decius, for Decius knew so much more than he, and +could look so much deeper into the sense of things. + +Days passed. Not yet did he receive a summons to the abbot's tower. +Rapidly recovering strength, he worked long in the fields, and +scrupulously performed his penitential exercises. Only, when he had +finished his daily reading of the appointed psalms, he turned to that +which begins: 'Blessed is every one that feareth the Lord, that walketh +in His ways.' How could he err in dwelling upon the word of God? One +day, as he closed the book, his heart was so full of a strange, +half-hopeful, half-fearful longing, that it overflowed in tears; and +amid his weeping came a memory of Marcian, a tender memory of the days +of their friendship: for the first time he bewailed the dead man as one +whom he had dearly loved. + +Then there sounded a knock at the door of his cell. Commanding himself, +and turning away so as to hide his face, he bade enter. + +And, looking up, he beheld his servant Felix. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +THE KING OF THE GOTHS + + +Transported from grief to joy, Basil sprang forward and clasped Felix +in his arms. + +'God be thanked,' he exclaimed, 'that I see you alive and well! Whence +come you? What is your news?' + +With his wonted grave simplicity, Felix told that he had long since +recovered from the effects of the wound, but had remained at Aesernia, +unable to obtain permission to go in search of his master. The Gothic +army was now advancing along the Via Latina; Basil's followers were +united with the troop under Venantius; and on their arrival at Casinum, +Felix succeeded in getting leave to climb to the monastery. He had been +assured that his lord had recovered health, and was still sojourning +with the holy men; but by whom this news had been brought he could not +say. Doubtless Venantius had held communication with the monastery. + +'And you are here alone?' asked Basil, fearing still to utter the +question which was foremost in his mind. + +'Alone of my lord's men. I followed those that came with the king.' + +'The king? Totila is here?' + +'It was rumoured,' replied Felix, in a reverent voice, 'that he desired +to speak of deep matters with the holy Benedict. They are even now +conversing.' + +Basil fell into a great agitation. Absorbed in his private griefs, and +in thoughts of eternity, he had all but forgotten the purpose with +which he crossed the Apennines at the summons of Marcian. The name of +Totila revived his interest in the progress of the war, but at the same +time struck his heart with a chill misgiving. With what eyes would the +king regard Marcian's slayer? Was he more likely to pardon the deed if +he knew (as assuredly he must) that it was done in jealous love of +Veranilda? The words he had not dared to speak leapt to his lips. + +'Felix, know you anything of the Gothic lady--of her whom we lost?' + +'The lord Venantius brought her to Aesernia,' was the grave reply, 'and +she is now among the wives and daughters of the Gothic lords who move +with the army.' + +Answering other questions, Felix said that he had not seen Veranilda, +and that he knew nothing of her save what he had heard from those of +Basil's men who had been at the island villa, and, subsequently, from +the gossip of the camp. A story had got abroad that Veranilda was the +lost princess of the Amal line surviving in Italy, and it was commonly +thought among the Goths that their king intended to espouse her--the +marriage to be celebrated in Rome, when Rome once more acknowledged the +Gothic ruler. This did Felix report unwillingly, and only because his +master insisted upon knowing all. + +'Very like it is true,' commented Basil, forcing a smile. 'You know, my +good Felix, that the Emperor would fain have had her adorn his court; +and I would rather see her Queen of Italy. But tell me now, last of +all, what talk there has been of me. Or has my name been happily +forgotten?' + +'My dear lord's followers,' replied Felix, 'have not ceased to speak of +him among themselves, and to pray for his safety.' + +'That I gladly believe. But I see there is more to tell. Out with it +all, good fellow. I have suffered worse things than any that can lie +before me.' + +In sad obedience, the servant made known that he and his fellows had +been closely questioned, first by Venantius, later, some two or three +of them, by the king himself, regarding their master's course of life +since he went into Picenum. They had told the truth, happy in that they +could do so without fear and without shame. + +'And how did the king bear himself to you?' asked Basil eagerly. + +'With that nobleness which became him,' was the fervid answer. 'It is +said among the Goths that only a lie or an act of cowardice can move +Totila to wrath against one who is in his power; and after speaking +face to face with him, I well believe it. He questioned me in few +words, but not as a tyrant; and when I had replied as best I could, he +dismissed me with a smile.' + +Basil's head drooped. + +'Yes, Totila is noble,' fell softly from him. 'Let be what will be. He +is worthier than I.' + +A knock sounded again at the door of the cell, and there entered +Marcus. His keen and kindly face betrayed perturbation of spirit, and +after looking from Basil to the new comer and then at Basil again, he +said in a nervous voice: + +'The lord abbot bids you repair at once, my brother, to the prior's +room.' + +'I go,' was the prompt reply. + +As they left the room, Marcus caught Basil's arm and whispered: + +'It is the King of the Goths who awaits you. But have courage, dear +brother; his face is mild. Despite his error, he has borne himself +reverently to our holy father.' + +'Know you what has passed between them?' asked Basil, also in a whisper. + +'That none may know. But when Totila came forth from the tower, he had +the face of one who has heard strange things. Who can say what the +Almighty purposes by the power of his servant Benedict? Not unguided, +surely, did the feet of the misbelieving warrior turn to climb this +mount.' + +Leaving the poet monk to nurse his hopes, Basil betook himself with +rapid steps to the prior's room. At the door stood three armed men; two +had the long flaxen hair which proclaimed them Goths, the third was +Venantius. A look of friendly recognition was all that passed between +Basil and his countryman, who straightway admitted him to the room, +announced his name, and retired. Alone--his attitude that of one who +muses--sat the Gothic King. He was bareheaded and wore neither armour +nor weapon; his apparel a purple tunic, with a loose, gold-broidered +belt, and a white mantle purple seamed. Youth shone in his ruddy +countenance, and the vigour of perfect manhood graced his frame. The +locks that fell to his shoulders had a darker hue than that common in +the Gothic race, being a deep burnished chestnut; but upon his lips and +chin the hair gleamed like pale gold. Across his forehead, from temple +to temple, ran one deep furrow, and this, together with a slight droop +of the eyelids, touched his visage with a cast of melancholy, whereby, +perhaps, the comely features became more royal. + +Upon Basil, who paused at a respectful distance, he fixed a gaze of +meditative intentness, and gazed so long in silence that the Roman +could not but at length lift his eyes. Meeting the glance with grave +good nature, Totila spoke firmly and frankly. + +'Lord Basil, they tell me that you crossed Italy to draw your sword in +my cause. Is this the truth?' + +'It is the truth, O king.' + +'How comes it then that you are laden with the death of one who had +long proved himself my faithful servant, one who, when you encountered +him, was bound on a mission of great moment?' + +'He whom I slew,' answered Basil, 'was the man whom of all men I most +loved. I thought him false to me, and struck in a moment of madness.' + +'Then you have since learnt that you were deceived?' + +Basil paused a moment. + +'Gracious lord, that I accused him falsely, I no longer doubt, having +had time to reflect upon many things, and to repent of my evil haste. +But I am still ignorant of the cause which led him to think ill of me, +and so to speak and act in a way which could not but make my heart burn +against him.' + +'Something of this too I have heard,' said the king, his blue eyes +resting upon Basil's countenance with a thoughtful interest. 'You +believe, then, that your friend was wholly blameless towards you, in +intention and in act?' + +'Save inasmuch as credited that strange slander, borne I know not upon +what lips.' + +'May I hear,' asked Totila, 'what this slander charged upon you?' + +Basil raised his head, and put all his courage into a brief reply. + +'That I sought to betray the lady Veranilda into the hands of the +Greeks.' + +'And you think,' said the king slowly, meditatively, his eyes still +searching Basil's face, 'that your friend could believe you capable of +that?' + +'How he could, I know not,' came the sad reply. 'Yet I must needs think +it was so.' + +'Why?' sounded from the king's lips abruptly, and with a change to +unexpected sternness. 'What forbids you the more natural thought that +this man, this Marcian, was himself your slanderer?' + +'Thinking so, O king, I slew him. Thinking so, I defiled my tongue with +base suspicion of Veranilda. Being now again in my right mind, I know +that my accusation of _her_ was frenzy, and therefore I choose rather +to believe that I wronged Marcian than that he could conceive so base a +treachery.' + +Totila reflected. All but a smile as of satisfaction lurked within his +eyes. + +'Know you,' he next inquired, 'by what means Marcian obtained charge of +the lady Veranilda?' + +'Of that I am as ignorant as of how she was first carried into +captivity.' + +'Yet,' said the king sharply, 'you conversed with her after Marcian's +death.' + +'Gracious lord,' answered Basil in low tones, 'it were miscalled +conversing. With blood upon my hands, I said I scarce knew what, and +would not give ear to the words which should have filled me with +remorse.' + +There was again a brief silence. Totila let his eyes stray for a +moment, then spoke again meditatively. + +'You sought vainly for this maiden, whilst she was kept in ward. Being +your friend, did not Marcian lend his aid to discover her for you?' + +'He did so, but fruitlessly. And when at length he found her, his mind +to me had changed.' + +'Strangely, it must be confessed,' said the king. His eyes were again +fixed upon Basil with a look of pleasant interest. 'Some day, +perchance, you may learn how that came about; meanwhile, you do well to +think good rather than evil. In truth, it would be difficult to do +otherwise in this dwelling of piety and peace. Is there imposed upon +you some term of penance? I scarce think you have it in mind to turn +monk?' + +The last words, though not irreverently uttered, marked a change in +Totila's demeanour. He seemed to lay aside an unwonted gravity, to +become the ruler of men, the warrior, the conqueror. His forehead lost +its long wrinkle, as, with eyebrows bent and lips compressed into a +rallying half smile, he seemed to challenge all the manhood in him he +addressed. + +'For that,' Basil replied frankly, 'I lack the calling.' + +'Well said. And how tends your inclination as regards the things of +this world? Has it changed in aught since you came hither?' + +'In nothing, O king,' was the firm response 'I honour the Goth, even as +I love my country.' + +'Spoken like a man. But I hear that you have passed through a long +sickness, and your cheek yet lacks something of its native hue. It +might be well if you took your ease yet a little with these good +bedesmen.' + +'It is true that I have not yet all my strength,' answered Basil. +'Moreover,' he added, lowering his voice, 'I would fain lighten my soul +of the sin that burdens it. It may be that, ere long, the holy father +will grant me absolution.' + +Totila nodded with a grave smile. + +'Be it so. When you are sound in flesh and spirit, follow me northward. +I shall then have more to say to you.' + +The look accompanying these words lent them a significance which put +confusion into Basil's mind. He saw the courteous gesture wherewith the +king dismissed him; he bowed and withdrew; but when he had left the +room he stood as one bewildered, aware of nothing, his eyes turned +vacantly upon some one who addressed him. Presently he found himself +walking apart with Venantius, who spoke to him of public affairs, +apprised him of the course of the war during these past weeks, and +uttered the hope that before the end of the year the liberators would +enter Rome. It was true that the Emperor had at length charged +Belisarius with the task of reconquering Italy, but months must pass +before an army could be assembled and transported; by the latest news +the great commander was in Illyria, striving to make a force out of +fresh-recruited barbarians, and lamenting the avarice of Justinian +which grudged him needful supplies. And as he listened to all this, +Basil felt a new ardour glow within him. He had ever worshipped the man +of heroic virtues; once upon a time it was Belisarius who fired his +zeal; now his eyes dazzled with the glory of Totila; he burned to +devote a loyal service to this brave and noble king. + +Suddenly there sounded a trumpet. Its note broke strangely upon the +monastic stillness, and, in a moment, echoed clear from the mountains. + +'The king goes forth,' said Venantius. 'I must leave you. Join us +speedily yonder.' + +He pointed towards Rome. On Basil's lips quivered a word, a question, +but before it could be uttered the soldier had stridden away, his +casque gleaming in the sun, and his sword clanking beside him. + +Again with mind confused, Basil went to his cell, and sat there head on +hand, trying to recover the mood, the thoughts, with which he had risen +this morning. But everything was changed. He could no longer think of +the past; the future called to him, and its voice was like that of the +Gothic trumpet, stirring his blood, urging him to activity. At midday +some one knocked, and there entered Deodatus. + +'Where is Felix?' was Basil's first question. + +Felix was gone, but only to the town at the foot of the mountain, where +he and two of his fellows would abide until their master left the +monastery. With this message Deodatus had been charged by Venantius. He +added that Felix had been dismissed, at the abbot's order, during +Basil's interview with the king. + +'I understand,' said Basil in himself; and during the rest of the day +he strove with all the force of his will to recover calm and pious +thoughts. In the night that followed he slept little; it was now the +image of Veranilda that hovered before him and kept him wakeful, +perturbed with a tender longing. God, it might be, would pardon him his +offence against the Divine law; but could he look for forgiveness from +Veranilda? When he thought of the king's last words he was lured with +hope; when he reasoned upon this hope, it turned to a mocking +emptiness. And through the next day, and the next again, his struggle +still went on. He worked and prayed as usual, and read the Psalms of +penitence not once only, but several times in the four-and-twenty +hours; that other psalm, to which he had turned for strengthening of +the spirit, he no longer dared to open. And all this time he scarce +spoke with any one; not that the brethren looked upon him with less +kindness, or held him at a distance, but the rebuke of his own +conscience kept him mute. He felt that his communion with these holy +men was in seeming only, and it shamed him to contrast their quiet +service of the Eternal with the turbid worldliness of his own thoughts. + +During these days the abbot was not seen. Venturing, at length, when he +happened to find himself alone with Marcus, to speak of this, he learnt +that the holy father was not in his wonted health; Marcus added that +the disorder had resulted from the visit of the king. After Totila's +departure, Benedict had passed hours in solitary prayer, until a +faintness came upon him, from which he could not yet recover. Basil was +turning away sadly, when the monk touched his arm, and said in a +troubled voice: + +'Many times he has spoken of you, dear brother.' + +'Would,' replied Basil, 'that I were worthy of his thoughts.' + +'Did he think you unworthy,' said Marcus, 'he would not grieve that you +must so soon go from among us.' + +'The holy father has said that I must soon leave you?' + +Marcus nodded gravely, and walked away. + +Another week passed. By stern self-discipline, Basil had fixed his +thoughts once more on things spiritual, and the result appeared in a +quiet contentment. He waited upon the will of Benedict, which he had +come to regard as one with the will of God. And at length the expected +summons came. It was on the evening of Saturday, after vespers; the +abbot had been present at the office, and, as he went forth from the +oratory, he bade Basil follow him. They entered the tower, and +Benedict, who walked feebly, sat for some moments silent in his chair, +as if he had need of repose before the effort of speaking. Through the +window streamed a warm light, illumining the aged face turned thither +with eyes which dreamt upon the vanishing day. + +'So you are no longer impatient to be gone?' were the abbot's first +words, spoken in a voice which had not lost its music, though weakness +made it low. + +'My father,' answered Basil, 'I have striven with myself and God has +helped me.' + +He knew that it was needless to say more. The eyes bent upon him read +all his thoughts; the confessions, the pleadings, he might have +uttered, all lay open before that calm intelligence.' + +'It is true, dear son,' said Benedict, 'that you have fought bravely, +and your countenance declares that, in some measure, victory has been +granted you. That it is not the complete victory of those who put the +world for ever beneath their feet, shall not move me to murmur. The +Lord of the vineyard biddeth whom He will; not all are called to the +same labour; it may be--for in this matter I see but darkly--it may be +that the earthly strife to which your heart impels you shall serve the +glory of the Highest. As indeed doth every act of man, for how can it +be otherwise? But I speak of the thought, the purpose, whereby 'in the +end of all things, all must be judged.' + +Basil heard these sentences with a deep joy. There was silence, and +when the aged voice again spoke, it was in a tone yet more solemn. +Benedict had risen. + +'Answer me, my son, and speak as in the presence of God, whom I humbly +serve. Do you truly repent of the sin whereof you made confession to +me?' + +Kneeling, Basil declared his penitence. Thereupon, Benedict, looking +upwards, opened his lips in prayer. + +'Receive, O Lord, our humble supplications, and to me, who above all +have need of Thy compassion, graciously give ear. Spare Thou this +penitent, that, by Thy mercy, he may escape condemnation in the +judgment to come. Let him not know the dread of darkness, nor the pang +of fire. Having turned from his way of error into the path of +righteousness, be he not again stricken with the wounds of sin, but +grant Thou that there abide with him for ever that soul's health which +Thy grace hath bestowed and Thy mercy hath established.' + +As he listened, Basil's eyes filled with tears, and when bidden to rise +he felt as one who has thrown off a burden; rejoicing in his recovered +strength of body and soul, he gazed into that venerable face with +gratitude too great for words. + +'Remember now thy Creator in the days of thy youth.' It was with a +parent's tenderness that Benedict now spoke. 'I am old, O Basil, and +have but a few more steps to take upon this earth. Looking upon me, you +see long promise of life before you. And yet--' + +The soft accents were suspended. For a moment Benedict gazed as though +into the future; then, with a wave of his hand, passed to another +thought. + +'To-morrow you will join with us in the Holy Communion. You will pass +the day in sober joy among the brethren, not one of whom but shares +your gladness and desires your welfare. And at sunrise on the day +after, you will go forth from our gates. Whether to return, I know not; +be that with the Ruler of All. If again you climb this mount, I shall +not be here to bid you welcome. Pray humbly, even as I do, that we may +meet in the life eternal.' + +After Mass on the morrow, when he had joyfully partaken of the +Eucharist, Basil was bidden to the priest's room. This time it was the +prior himself who received him, and with an address which indicated the +change in the position of the penitent, now become an ordinary guest. + +'Lord Basil, your follower, Deodatus, is minded to fulfil the prophecy +of his name, and tells me that it would be with your good will. Are you +content to deprive yourself of his service, that he may continue to +abide with us, and after due preparation, take the vows of our +community?' + +'Content,' was the reply, 'and more than content. If ever man seemed +born for the holy life, it is he. I entreat you, reverend father, to +favour his desire.' + +'Be it so. I have spoken of this matter with the lord abbot, who has +graciously given his consent. Let me now make known to you that, at +sunrise to-morrow, your attendants who have been sojourning at Casinum, +will await you by the gate of the monastery. I wish you, dear lord, a +fair journey. Let your thoughts sometimes turn to us; by us you will +ever be remembered.' + +Long before the morrow's sunrise, Basil was stirring. By the light of +his little lamp, he and Deodatus conversed together, no longer as +master and servant, but as loving friends, until the bell called them +to matins. The night was chill; under a glistening moon all the valley +land was seen to be deep covered with far-spreading mist, whereamid the +mount of the monastery and the dark summits round about rose like +islands in a still, white sea. When matins and lauds were over, many of +the monks embraced and tenderly took leave of the departing guest. The +last to do so was Marcus, who led him aside and whispered: + +'I see you have again put on your ring, as was right. Let me, I beg of +you, once more touch it with my lips.' + +Having done so with the utmost reverence, he clasped Basil in his arms, +kissed him on either cheek, and said, amid tears: + +'Lest we should never meet again, take and keep this; not for its +worth, for God knows it has little, but in memory of my love.' + +The gift was a little book, a beautifully written copy of all the +verses composed by the good Marcus in honour of Benedict and of the +Sacred Mount of Casinum. + +Holding it against his heart, Basil rode down into the mist. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +AT HADRIAN'S VILLA + + +Rome waited. It was not long to the setting of the Pleiades, and there +could be no hope that the new army from the East would enter Italy this +year. Belisarius lay on the other side of Hadria; in Italy the Imperial +commanders scarce moved from the walls where each had found safety. +Already suffering dearth (for Totila now had ships upon the Tyrrhene +Sea, hindering the corn vessels that made for Portus), such of her +citizens as had hope elsewhere and could escape, making haste to flee, +watching the slow advance of the Gothic conqueror, and fearful of the +leaguer which must presently begin, Rome waited. + +One morning the attention of those who went about the streets was +caught by certain written papers which had been fixed during the night +on the entrance of public buildings and at other such conspicuous +points; they bore a proclamation of the King of the Goths. Reminding +the Roman people that nearly the whole of Italy was now his, and urging +them to avoid the useless sufferings of a siege, Totila made promise +that, were the city surrendered to him, neither hurt nor loss should +befall one of the inhabitants; and that under his rule Rome should have +the same liberty, the same honour, as in the time of the glorious +Theodoric. Before these papers had been torn down, their purport became +universally known; everywhere men whispered together; but those who +would have welcomed the coming of Totila could not act upon their wish, +and the Greeks were confident of relief long ere the city could be +taken by storm or brought to extremities. Bessas well knew the numbers +of Totila's army; he himself commanded a garrison of three thousand +men, and not much larger than this was the force with which, after +leaving soldiers to maintain his conquest throughout the land, the king +now drew towards Rome. At the proclamation Bessas laughed, for he saw +in it a device dictated by weakness. + +And now, in these days of late autumn, the Gothic army lay all but in +sight. Watchers from the walls pointed eastward, to where on its +height, encircled by the foaming Anio, stood the little town of Tibur; +this, a stronghold overlooking the Ager Romanus, Totila had turned +aside to besiege. The place must soon yield to him. How long before his +horsemen came riding along the Tiburtine Way? + +Close by Tibur, on a gently rising slope, sheltered by mountains alike +from northern winds and from the unwholesome breathing of the south, +stood the vast pleasure-house built by the Emperor Hadrian, with its +presentment in little of the scenes and architecture which had most +impressed him in his travels throughout the Roman world. The lapse of +four hundred years had restored to nature his artificial landscape: the +Vale of Tempe had forgotten its name; Peneus and Alpheus flowed +unnoticed through tracts of wood or wilderness; but upon the multitude +of edifices, the dwellings, theatres, hippodromes, galleries, lecture +halls, no destroyer's hand had yet fallen. They abounded in things +beautiful, in carving and mosaic, in wall-painting and tapestries, in +statues which had been the glory of Greece, and in marble portraiture +which was the boast of Rome. Here, amid the decay of ancient splendour +and the luxuriance of the triumphing earth, King Totila made his +momentary abode; with him, in Hadrian's palace, housed the Gothic +warrior-nobles, and a number of ladies, their wives and relatives, who +made, as it were, a wandering court. Honour, pride, and cheerful +courage were the notable characteristics of these Gothic women. What +graces they had they owed to nature, not to any cultivation of the +mind. Their health Buffered in a nomadic life from the ills of the +country, the dangers of the climate, and the children by whom a few +were accompanied, showed a degeneracy of blood which threatened the +race with extinction. + +Foremost in rank among them was Athalfrida, sister to the king, and +wife of a brawny lord named Osuin. Though not yet five and twenty years +old, Athalfrida had borne seven children, of whom five died in +babyhood. A creature of magnificent form, and in earlier life of superb +vigour, her paling cheek told of decline that had begun; nevertheless +her spirits were undaunted; and her voice, in gay talk, in song or in +laughter, sounded constantly about the halls and wild gardens. Merry by +choice, she had in her a vein of tenderness which now and then +(possibly due to failing health) became excessive, causing her to shed +abundant tears with little or no cause, and to be over lavish of +endearments with those she loved or merely liked. Athalfrida worshipped +her husband; in her brother saw the ideal hero. She was ardent in +racial feeling, thought nothing good but what was Gothic, and hated the +Italians for their lack of gratitude to the people of Theodoric. + +To her the king had intrusted Veranilda. Knowing her origin and +history, Athalfrida, in the beginning, could not but look coldly upon +her charge. The daughter of a Gothic renegade, the betrothed of a Roman +noble, and finally an apostate from the creed of her race-how could +such an one expect more than the barest civility from Totila's sister? +Yet in a little time it had come to pass that Athalfrida felt her heart +soften to the sad and beautiful maiden, who never spoke but gently, who +had compassion for all suffering, and willing aid for any one she could +serve, whom little children loved as soon as they looked into her eyes, +and heard her voice. Though a daughter of the abhorred Ebrimut, +Veranilda was of Amal blood, and, despite what seemed her weakness and +her errors, it soon appeared that she cherished fervidly the glory of +the Gothic name. This contradiction puzzled the wife of Osuin, whose +thoughts could follow only the plainest track. She suspected that her +charge must be the victim of some enchantment, of some evil spell; and +in their talk she questioned her with infinite curiosity concerning her +acquaintance with Basil, her life in the convent at Praeneste, her +release and the journey with Marcian. Veranilda spoke as one who has +nothing to conceal; only, when pressed for the story of that last day +at the island villa, she turned away her face, and entreated the +questioner's forbearance. All else she told with a sad simplicity. Her +religious conversion was the result of teaching she had received from +the abbess, a Roman lady of great learning, who spoke of things till +then unknown to her, and made so manifest the truth of the Catholic +creed that her reason was constrained to accept it. Obeying the king's +command, Athalfrida refrained from argument and condemnation, and, as +Veranilda herself, when once she had told her story, never again +returned to it, the subject was almost forgotten. They lived together +on terms as friendly as might be between persons so different. The +other ladies, their curiosity once satisfied, scarce paid any heed to +her at all; and Veranilda was never more content than when left quite +alone, to ply her needle and commune with her thoughts. + +Against all expectation, the gates of Tibur remained obstinately +closed; three weeks went by, and those who came on to the walls to +parley had only words of scorn for the Gothic king, whom they bade +beware of the Greek force which would shortly march to their succour. +Only a small guard of Isaurians held the town, but it was abundantly +provisioned, and strong enough to defy attack for an indefinite time. +The Goths had no skill in taking fortresses by assault; when walls held +firm against them, they seldom overcame except by blockade; and this it +was which, despite his conquest of the greater part of Italy, made +Totila thus slow and cautious in his approach to Rome. He remembered +that Vitiges, who laid siege to the city with a hundred thousand men, +had retreated at last with his troops diminished by more than half, so +worn and dispirited that they scarce struck another blow against +Belisarius. The Greek commander, Totila well knew, would not sally +forth and risk an engagement: to storm the battlements would be an +idle, if not a fatal, attempt; and how, with so small an army, could he +encompass so vast a wall? To guard the entrance to the river with his +ships, and to isolate Rome from every inland district of Italy, seemed +to the Gothic king the only sure way of preparing his final triumph. +But time pressed; however beset with difficulties, Belisarius would not +linger for ever beyond Hadria. The resistance of Tibur excited Totila's +impatience, and at length stirred his wrath. Osuin heard a terrible +threat fall from his lips, and the same evening whispered it to +Athalfrida. + +'He will do well,' answered his wife, with brows knit. + +On the morrow, Athalfrida and Veranilda sat together in the gardens, or +what once had been the gardens, of Hadrian's palace, and looked forth +over the vast brown landscape, with that gleam upon its limit, that +something pale between earth and air, which was the Tyrrhene Sea. Over +the sky hung thin grey clouds, broken with strips of hazy blue, and +softly suffused with warmth from the invisible sun. + +'O that this weary war would end!' exclaimed the elder lady in the +language of the Goths. 'I am sick of wandering, sick of this south, +where winter is the same as summer, sick of the name of Rome. I would I +were back in Mediolanum. There, when you look from the walls, you see +the great white mountains, and a wind blows from them, cold, keen; a +wind that sets you running and leaping, and makes you hungry. Here I +have no gust for food, and indeed there is none worth eating.' + +As she spoke, she raised her hand to the branch of an arbutus just +above her head, plucked one of the strawberry-like fruits, bit into it +with her white teeth, and threw the half away contemptuously. + +'You!' She turned to her companion abruptly. 'Where would you like to +live when the war is over?' + +Veranilda's eyes rested upon something in the far distance, but less +far than the shining horizon. + +'Surely not _there_!' pursued the other, watching her. 'I was but once +in Rome, and I had not been there a week when I fell sick of fever. +King Theodoric knew better than to make his dwelling at Rome, and +Totila will never live there. The houses are so big and so close +together they scarce leave air to breathe; so old, too, they look as if +they would tumble upon your head. I have small liking for Ravenna, +where there is hardly dry land to walk upon, and you can't sleep for +the frogs. Verona is better. But, best of all, Mediolanum. There, if he +will listen to me, my brother shall have his palace and his court--as +they say some of the emperors did, I know not how long ago.' + +Still gazing at the far distance, Veranilda murmured: + +'I never saw the city nearer than this.' + +'I would no one might ever look upon it again!' cried Athalfrida, her +blue eyes dark with anger and her cheeks hot. 'I would that the +pestilence, which haunts its streets, might make it desolate, and that +the muddy river, which ever and again turns it into a swamp, would hide +its highest palace under an eternal flood.' + +Veranilda averted her face and kept silence. Thereupon the other seemed +to repent of having spoken so vehemently. + +'Well, that's how I feel sometimes,' she said, in a voice suddenly +gentle. 'But I forgot--or I wouldn't have said it.' + +'I well understand, dear lady,' replied her companion. 'Rome has never +been loyal to the Goths. And yet some Romans have.' + +'How many? To be sure, you know one, and in your thought he stands for +a multitude. Come, you must not be angry with me, child. Nay, vexed, +then. Nay then, hurt and sad. I am not myself to-day. I dreamt last +night of the snowy mountains, and this warmth oppresses me. In truth, I +often fear I shall fall sick. Feel my hand, how hot it is. Where are +the children? Let us walk.' + +Not far away she discovered three little boys, two of them her own, who +were playing at battles and sieges upon stairs which descended from +this terrace to the hippodrome below. After watching them awhile, with +laughter and applause, she threw an arm round Veranilda's waist, and +drew her on to a curved portico where, in a niche, stood a statue of +Antinous. + +'Is that one of their gods, or an emperor?' asked Athalfrida. 'I have +seen his face again and again since we came here.' + +'Indeed, I know not,' answered her companion. 'But surely he is too +beautiful for a man.' + +'Beautiful? Never say that, child; for if it be as you think, it is the +beauty of a devil, and has led who knows how many into the eternal +fire. Had I a hammer here, I would splinter the evil face. I would not +have my boys look at it and think it beautiful.' + +A heavy footstep sounded on the terrace. Turning, they saw Osuin, an +armed giant, with flowing locks, and thick, tawny beard. + +'Wife, a word with you,' he shouted, beckoning from some twenty paces +away. + +They talked together; then the lady returned, a troubled smile on her +face, and said softly to Veranilda: + +'Some one wishes to speak with you--some one who comes with the king's +good-will.' + +Veranilda looked towards Osuin. + +'You cannot mean--?' she faltered. + +'No other,' replied Athalfrida, nodding gaily. 'Are you at leisure? +Some other day, perhaps? I will say you would be private--that you +cannot now give audience.' + +This pleasantry brought only the faintest smile to the listener's face. + +'Is it hither that he would come?' she asked, again looking anxiously +towards the ruddy giant, who stamped with a beginning of impatience. + +'If so it please you, little one,' answered Athalfrida, changing all at +once to her softest mood. 'The king leaves all to my discretion, and I +ask nothing better than to do you kindness. Shall it be here, or +within?' + +Veranilda whispered 'Here'; whereupon Osuin received a sign, and +stalked off. A few minutes passed, and Athalfrida, who, after caresses +and tender words, had drawn apart, as if to watch her children playing, +beheld the expected visitor. Her curiosity was not indiscreet; she +would have glimpsed the graceful figure, the comely visage, and then +have turned away; but at this moment the new comer paused, looked about +him in hesitation, and at length advanced towards her. She had every +excuse for looking him straight in the face, and it needed not the +pleasant note of his speech to dispose her kindly towards him. + +'Gracious lady, I seek the lady Veranilda, and was bidden come hither +along the terrace.' + +Totila's sister had but little of the Latin tongue; now, for perhaps +the first time in her life, she regretted this deficiency. Smiling, she +pointed to a group of cypresses which hid part of the portico, and her +questioner, with a courtly bow, went on. He wore the ordinary dress of +a Roman noble, and had not even a dagger at his waist. As soon as he +had passed the cypresses, he saw, within the shadow of the portico, the +figure his eyes had sought; then he stood still, and spoke with manly +submissiveness. + +'It is much that you suffer me to come into your presence, for of all +men, O Veranilda, I am least worthy to do so.' + +'How shall I answer you?' she replied, with a sad, simple dignity. 'I +know not of what unworthiness you accuse yourself. That you are most +unhappy, I know too well.' + +She dared not raise her eyes to him; but in the moment of his +appearance before her, it had gladdened her to see him attired as when +she first knew him. Had he worn the soldierly garb in which he +presented himself at Marcian's villa, the revival of a dread memory +would have pierced her heart. Even as in outward man he was the Basil +she had loved, so did his voice recall that brighter day. + +'Unhappy most of all,' he continued, 'in what I least dare speak of. I +have no ground to plead for pardon. What I did, and still more what I +uttered, judge it at the worst. I should but add to my baseness if I +urged excuses.' + +'Let us not remember that, I entreat you,' said Veranilda. 'But tell +me, if you will, what has befallen you since?' + +'You know nothing of me since then?' + +'Nothing.' + +'And I nothing of you, save that you were with the Gothic army, and +honourably entertained. The king himself spoke to me of you, when, +after long sickness, I came to his camp. He asked if it was my wish to +see you; but I could not yet dare to stand before your face, and so I +answered him. "It is well," said Totila. "Prove yourself in some +service to the Goths and to your country, then I will speak with you +again." And straightway he charged me with a duty which I the more +gladly undertook because it had some taste of danger. He bade me enter +Rome, and spread through the city a proclamation to the Roman people--' + +'It was you who did that?' interrupted the listener. 'We heard of its +being done, but not by what hand.' + +'With a servant whom I can trust, disguised, he and I, as peasants +bringing food to market, I entered Rome, and remained for two days +within the gates; then returned to Totila. He next sent me to learn the +strength of the Greek garrisons in Spoletium and Assisium, and how +those cities were provisioned; this task also, by good hap, I +discharged so as to win some praise. Then the king again spoke to me of +you. And as, before, I had not dared to approach you, so now I did not +dare to wait longer before making known to you my shame and my +repentance.' + +'Of what sickness did you speak just now?' asked Veranilda, after a +silence. + +He narrated to her his sojourn at the monastery, told of the penance he +had done, of the absolution granted him by Benedict; whereupon a light +came into Veranilda's eyes. + +'There lives,' she exclaimed, 'no holier man!' + +'None holier lived,' was Basil's grave answer. 'Returning from +Assisium, I met a wandering anchorite, who told me of Benedict's death.' + +'Alas!' + +'But is he reverenced by those of your creed?' asked Basil in surprise. + +'Of my creed? My faith is that of the Catholic Church.' + +For the first time their eyes met. Basil drew a step nearer; his face +shone with joy, which for a moment held him mute. + +'It was in the convent,' added Veranilda, 'that I learnt the truth. +They whom I called my enemies wrought this good to me.' + +Basil besought her to tell him how she had been carried away from +Surrentum, and all that had befallen her whilst she was a prisoner; he +declared his ignorance of everything between their last meeting in the +Anician villa and the dreadful day which next brought them face to +face. As he said this, it seemed to him that Veranilda's countenance +betrayed surprise. + +'I forget,' he added, his head again falling, 'that your mind has been +filled with doubt of me. How can I convince you that I speak truly? O +Veranilda!' he exclaimed passionately, 'can you look at me, can you +hear me speak, and still believe that I was ever capable of betraying +you?' + +'That I never believed,' she answered in a subdued voice. + +'Yet I saw in your eyes some doubt, some hesitation.' + +'Then it was despite myself. The thought that you planned evil against +me I have ever cast out and abhorred. Why it was said of you, alas, I +know not.' + +'What proof was given?' asked Basil, gazing fixedly at her. + +'None.' + +Her accent did not satisfy him; it seemed to falter. + +'Was nothing said,' he urged, 'to make credible so black an untruth?' + +Veranilda stood motionless and silent. + +'Speak, I beseech you!' cried Basil, his hands clasped upon his breast. +'Something there is which shadows your faith in my sincerity. God +knows, I have no right to question you thus--I, who let my heart be +poisoned against you by a breath, a nothing. Rebuke me as you will; +call me by the name I merit; utter all the disdain you must needs feel +for a man so weak and false--' + +His speech was checked upon that word. Veranilda had arrested him with +a sudden look, a look of pain, of fear. + +'False?' fell from her lips. + +'Can _you_ forget it, O Veranilda? Would that I could!' + +'In your anger,' she said, 'as when perchance you were already +distraught with fever, you spoke I know not what. Therein you were not +false to me.' + +'False to myself; I should have said. To you, never, never! False to my +faith in you, false to my own heart which knew you faithful; but false +as men are called who--' + +Again his voice sank. A memory flashed across him, troubling his brow. + +'What else were you told?' he asked abruptly. 'Can it be a woman's name +was spoken? You are silent. Will you not say that this thought, also, +you abhorred and rejected?' + +The simple honesty of Veranilda's nature would not allow her to +disguise what she thought. Urging question after question, with ardour +irresistible, Basil learnt all she had been told by Marcian concerning +Heliodora, and, having learnt it, confessed the whole truth in utter +frankness, in the plain, blunt words dictated by his loathing of the +Greek woman with whom he had once played at love. And, as she listened, +Veranilda's heart grew light; for the time before her meeting with +Basil seemed very far away, and the tremulous passion in his voice +assured her of all she cared to know, that his troth pledged to her had +never suffered wrong. Basil spoke on and on, told of his misery in Rome +whilst vainly seeking her; how he was baffled and misled; how at +length, in despair, he left the city and went to his estate by Asculum. +Then of the message received from Marcian, and how eagerly he set forth +to cross the Apennines, resolved that, if he could not find Veranilda, +at least he would join himself with her people and fight for their +king; of his encounter with the marauding troop, his arrival, worn and +fevered, at Aesernia, his meeting with Sagaris, their interview, and +what followed upon it. + +'To this hour I know not whether the man told me what he believed, or +coldly lied to me. He has the face of a villain and may well have +behaved as one--who knows with what end in view? Could I but lay hands +upon him, I would have the truth out of his tongue by torture. He is in +Rome. I saw him come forth from Marcian's house, when I was there on +the king's service; but, of course, I could not speak with him.' + +Veranilda had seated herself within the portico. Basil stood before +her, ever and again meeting her eyes as she looked up. + +'Just as little,' he resumed after a pause of troubled thought, 'can I +know whether Marcian believed me a traitor, or himself had a traitorous +mind. The more I think, the less do I understand him. I hope, I hope +with all my heart, that he was innocent, and daily I pray for his +eternal welfare.' + +'That is well done, O Basil,' said the listener, for the first time +uttering his name. 'My prayers, too, he shall have. That he was so +willing to credit ill of you, I marvel; and therein he proved himself +no staunch friend. But of all else, he was guiltless.' + +'So shall he ever live in my memory,' said Basil. 'Of him I always +found it easier to believe good than evil, for many were the proofs he +had given me of his affection. Had it been otherwise, I should long +before have doubted him; for, when I was seeking you in Rome, more than +once did a finger point to Marcian, as to one who knew more than he +would say. I heard the accusation with scorn, knowing well that they +who breathed it desired to confound me.' + +This turned his thoughts again to the beginning of their sorrows; and +again he gently asked of Veranilda that she would relate that part of +her story which remained unknown to him. She, no longer saddened by the +past, looked frankly up into his face, and smiled as she began. Now +first did Basil hear of the anchoret Sisinnius, and how Aurelia was +beguiled into the wood, where capture awaited her. Of the embarkment at +Surrentum, Veranilda had only a confused recollection: fear and +distress re-awoke in her as she tried to describe the setting forth to +sea, and the voyage that followed. Sisinnius and his monkish follower +were in the ship, but held no speech with their captives. After a day +or two of sailing, they landed at nightfall, but in what place she had +never learnt. Still conducted by the anchorets, they were taken to pass +the night in a large house, where they had good entertainment, but saw +only the female slaves who waited upon them. The next day began a +journey by road; and thus, after more than one weary day, they arrived +at the house of religious women which was to be Veranilda's home for +nearly a twelvemonth. + +'I knew not where I was, and no one would answer me that question, +though otherwise I had gentle and kindly usage. Aurelia I saw no more; +we had not even taken leave of each other, for we did not dream on +entering the house that we were to be parted. Whether she remained +under that roof I never learnt. During our journey, she suffered much, +often weeping bitterly, often all but distraught with anger and +despair. Before leaving the ship we were told that, if either of us +tried to escape, we should be fettered, and only the fear of that +indignity kept Aurelia still. Her face, as I remember its last look, +was dreadful, so white and anguished. I have often feared that, if she +were long kept prisoner, she would lose her senses.' + +Basil having heard the story to an end without speaking, made known the +thoughts it stirred in him. They talked of Petronilla and of the deacon +Leander, and sought explanations of Veranilda's release. And, as thus +they conversed, they forgot all that had come between them; their +constraint insensibly passed away; till at length Basil was sitting by +Veranilda's side, and holding her hand, and their eyes met in a long +gaze of love and trust and hope. + +'Can you forgive?' murmured Basil, upon whom, in the fulness of his +joy, came the memory of what he deemed his least pardonable sin. + +'How can I talk of forgiveness,' she returned, 'when not yours was the +blame, but mine? For I believed--or all but believed--that you had +forgotten me.' + +'Beloved, I was guilty of worse than faithlessness. I dread to think, +and still more to speak, of it; yet if I am silent, I spare myself; and +seem, perhaps, to make light of baseness for which there are no words +of fitting scorn. That too, be assured, O Veranilda, I confessed to the +holy Benedict.' + +Her bowed head and flushing cheek told him that she understood. + +'Basil,' she whispered, 'it was not you, not you.' + +'Gladly would I give myself that comfort. When I think, indeed, that +this hand was raised to take my friend's life, I shake with horror and +say, "Not _I_ did that!" Even so would I refuse to charge my very self +with those words that my lips uttered. But to you they were spoken; you +heard them; you fled before them--' + +'Basil! Basil!' + +She had hidden her face with her hands. Basil threw himself upon his +knees beside her. + +'Though I spoke in madness, can you ever forget? God Himself, I know, +will sooner blot out my sin of murder than this wound I inflicted upon +your pure and gentle heart!' + +Veranilda caught his hand and pressed her lips upon it, whilst her +tears fell softly. + +'Listen, dearest Basil,' she said. 'To think that I guard this in my +memory against you would be to do me wrong. Remember how first I spoke +to you about it, when we first knew that we loved each other. Did I not +tell you that this was a thing which could never be quite forgotten? +Did I not know that, if ever I sinned, or seemed to sin, _this_ would +be the first rebuke upon the lips of those I angered? Believing me +faithless--nay, not you, beloved, but your fevered brain--how could you +but think that thought? And, even had you not spoken it, must I not +have read it in your face? Never ask me to forgive what you could not +help. Rather, O Basil, will I entreat you, even as I did before, to +bear with the shame inseparable from my being. If it lessen not your +love, have I not cause enough for thankfulness?' + +Hearing such words as these, in the sweetest, tenderest voice that ever +caressed a lover's senses, Basil knew not how to word all that was in +his heart. Passion spoke for him, and not in vain; for in a few moments +Veranilda's tears were dry, or lingered only to glisten amid the happy +light which beamed from her eyes. Side by side, forgetful of all but +their recovered peace, they talked sweet nothings, until there sounded +from far a woman's voice, calling the name of Veranilda. + +'That is Athalfrida,' she said, starting up. 'I must not delay.' + +One whisper, one kiss, and she was gone. When Basil, after brief +despondency came forth on to the open terrace, he saw her at a +distance, standing with Athalfrida and Osuin. Their looks invited him +to approach, and, when he was near, Veranilda stepped towards him. + +'It will not be long,' she said calmly, 'before we again meet. The lord +Osuin promises, and he speaks for the king.' + +Basil bowed in silence. The great-limbed warrior and his fair wife had +their eyes upon him, and were smiling good-naturedly. Then Osuin spoke +in thick-throated Latin. + +'Shall we be gone, lord Basil?' + +From the end of the terrace, Basil looked back. Athalfrida stood with +her arm about the maiden's waist; both gazed towards him, and Veranilda +waved her hand. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +ROME BELEAGUERED + + +A few days later the guards at the Tiburtine Gate of Rome were hailed, +before dawn, by a number of Greek soldiers in the disarray of flight. +It was a portion of the garrison of Tibur: the town had been betrayed +at sunset, by certain of its inhabitants who watched at one of the +gates. The soldiers fought their way through and most of them escaped, +and had fled hither through the darkness. Before the end of the day +came news more terrible. A peasant from a neighbouring farm declared +that all the people of Tibur, men, women, and children, had perished +under the Gothic sword, not even ministers of religion having found +mercy. And very soon this report, at first doubted, was fully +confirmed. The event excited no less astonishment than horror, +contrasting as it did with Totila's humanity throughout the war. Some +offered as explanation the fact that many Goths lived at Tibur, whose +indifference or hostility had angered the king; others surmised that +this was Totila's warning after the failure of his proclamation to the +Romans. Whatever the meaning of such unwonted severity, its effect upon +the Romans was unfavourable to the Gothic cause. Just about this time +there happened to arrive two captains, sent by Belisarius with a small +troop for the reinforcement of Bessas. The addition to the strength of +the garrison was inconsiderable, but it served to put the city in heart +once more. The Patricius himself would not be long in coming, and when +did the name of Belisarius sound anything but victory? + +This confidence increased when Totila, instead of marching upon Rome, +as all had expected, turned in the opposite direction, and led his +forces across the Apennines. The gates were thrown open; the citizens +resumed their ordinary life, saying to each other that all fear of a +siege was at an end; and when certain ships from Sicily, having by good +luck escaped the Gothic galleys, landed a good supply of corn, there +was great exultation. True, only a scanty measure of this food reached +the populace, and that chiefly by the good offices of the archdeacon +Pelagius, now become as dear to the people as Pope Vigilius was +hateful; the granaries were held by Bessas, who first of all fed his +soldiers, and then sold at a great price. As winter went on, the Romans +suffered much. And with the spring came disquieting news of Totila's +successes northwards: the towns of Picenum had yielded to him; he was +moving once more in this direction; he captured Spoletium, Assisium, +and still came on. + +Belisarius, meanwhile, had crossed to Italy, and was encamped at +Ravenna. Why, asked the Romans, impatiently, anxiously, did he not +march to meet the Gothic king? But the better informed knew that his +army was miserably insufficient; they heard of his ceaseless appeals to +Byzantium, of his all but despair in finding himself without money, +without men, in the land which but a few years ago had seen his glory. +Would the Emperor take no thought for Italy, for Rome? Bessas, with +granaries well stored, and his palace heaped with Roman riches, +shrugged when the nobles spoke disrespectfully of Justinian; his only +loyalty was to himself. + +At high summertide, the Gothic camp was pitched before Rome, and the +siege anticipated for so many months had at length begun. For whatever +reason, Totila had never attempted to possess himself of Portus, which +guarded the mouth of the river Tiber on the north bank and alone made +possible the provisioning of the city. Fearing that this stronghold +would now be attacked, Bessas despatched a body of soldiers to +strengthen its garrison; but they fell into a Gothic ambush, and were +cut to pieces. Opposite Portus, and separated from it by a desert +island, on either side of which Tiber flowed to the sea, lay the +ancient town of Ostia, once the port of the world's traffic, now +ruinous and scarce inhabited. Here Totila established an outpost; but +he did not otherwise threaten the harbour on the other side. His +purpose evidently was to avoid all conflict which would risk a +reduction of the Gothic army, and by patient blockade to starve the +Romans into surrender. + +He could not surround the city, with its circuit of twelve miles; he +could not keep ceaseless watch upon the sixteen gates and the numerous +posterns. King Vitiges, in his attempt to do so, had suffered terrible +losses. It was inevitable that folk should pass in and out of Rome. But +from inland no supplies could be expected by the besieged, and any ship +sailing up to Portus would have little chance of landing its cargo +safely. Before long, indeed, this was put to proof. The Pope, whose +indecision still kept him lingering in Sicily, nearly a twelvemonth +after his departure from Rome for Constantinople, freighted a vessel +with corn for the relief of the city, and its voyage was uninterrupted +as far as the Tiber's mouth. There it became an object of interest, not +only to the Greeks on the walls of Portus, but to the Gothic soldiers +at. Ostia, who forthwith crossed in little boats, and lay awaiting the +ship at the entrance to the haven. Observant of this stratagem, the +garrison, by all manner of signalling, tried to warn the sailors of the +danger awaiting them; but their signals were misunderstood, being taken +for gestures of eager welcome; and the ship came on. With that lack of +courage which characterised them, the Greeks did nothing more than wave +arms and shout: under their very eyes, the corn-ship was boarded by the +Goths, and taken into Ostia. + +Of courage, indeed, as of all other soldierly virtues, little enough +was exhibited, at this stage of the war, on either side. The Imperial +troops scattered about Italy, ill-paid, and often starving mercenaries +from a score of Oriental countries, saw no one ready to lead them to +battle, and the one Byzantine general capable of commanding called +vainly for an army. Wearied by marchings and counter-marchings, the +Gothic warriors were more disposed to rest awhile after their easy +conquests than to make a vigorous effort for the capture of Rome. +Totila himself, heroic redeemer of his nation, turned anxious glances +towards Ravenna, hoping, rather than resolving, to hold his state upon +the Palatine before Belisarius could advance against him. He felt the +fatigue of those about him, and it was doubtless under the stress of +such a situation, bearing himself the whole burden of the war, that he +had ordered, or permitted, barbarous revenge upon the city of Tibur. +For this reason he would not, even now, centre all his attention upon +the great siege; he knew what a long, dispiriting business it was +likely to be, and feared to fall into that comparative idleness. Soon +after the incident of the Sicilian corn-ship, he was once more +commanding in the north, where a few cities yet held out against him. +Dreadful stories were told concerning the siege of Placentia, whose +inhabitants were said to have eaten the bodies of their dead ere they +yielded to the Goth. So stern a spirit of resistance was found only in +places where religious zeal and national sentiment both existed in +their utmost vigour, and Totila well knew that, of these two forces +ever threatening to make his conquests vain, it was from religion that +he had most to fear. In vain was the history of Gothic tolerance known +throughout Italy; it created no corresponding virtue in the bosom of +Catholicism; the barbaric origin of the Goths might be forgotten or +forgiven, their heresy--never. + +Totila, whose qualities of heart and mind would have made him, could he +but have ruled in peace, a worthy successor of the great Theodoric, had +reflected much on this question of the hostile creeds; he had talked of +it with ministers of his own faith and with those of the orthodox +church; and it was on this account that he had sought an interview with +the far-famed monk of Casinum. Understanding the futility of any hope +that the Italians might be won to Arianism, and having sufficient +largeness of intellect to perceive how idle was a debate concerning the +'substance' of the Father and of the Son, Totila must at times have +felt willing enough to renounce the heretical name, and so win favour +of the Italians, the greater part of whom would assuredly have +preferred his rule to that of the Emperor Justinian. But he knew the +religious obstinacy of his own people; to imagine their following him +in a conversion to Catholicism was but to dream. Pondering thus, he +naturally regarded with indulgence the beautiful and gentle Gothic +maiden delivered into his power by a scheming Roman ecclesiastic. After +his conversations with Veranilda, he had a pensive air; and certain +persons who observed him remarked on it to each other, whence arose the +rumour that Totila purposed taking to wife this last descendant of the +Amals. Whatever his temptations, he quickly overcame them. If ever he +thought of marriage, policy and ambition turned his mind towards the +royal Franks; but the time for that had not yet come. Meanwhile, having +spoken with the young Roman whom Veranilda loved, he saw in Basil a +useful instrument, and resolved, if his loyalty to the Goths bore every +test, to reward him with Veranilda's hand. The marriage would be of +good example, and might, if the Gothic arms remained triumphant, lead +to other such. + +After the meeting at Hadrian's villa which he granted to the lovers, +Totila summoned Basil to his presence. Regarding him with a +good-natured smile, he said pleasantly: + +'Your face has a less doleful cast than when I first saw it.' + +'That,' answered Basil, 'is due in no small degree to the gracious +favour of my king.' + +'Continue to merit my esteem, lord Basil, and proof of my good-will +shall not be wanting. But the time for repose and solace is not yet. +To-morrow you will go with Venantius to Capua, and thence, it may be, +into Apulia.' + +Basil bowed in silence. He had hoped that the siege of Rome was now to +be undertaken, and that this would ensure his remaining near to +Veranilda. But the loyalty he professed to Totila was no less in his +heart than on his lips, and after a moment's struggle he looked up with +calm countenance. + +'Have you aught to ask of me?' added Totila, after observing his face. + +'This only, O king: that if occasion offer, I may send written news of +myself to her I love.' + +'That is a little thing,' was the answer, 'and I grant it willingly.' + +Totila paused a moment; then, his blue eyes shining with a vehement +thought, added gravely: + +'When we speak together within the walls of Rome, ask more, and it +shall not be refused.' + +So Basil rode southward, and happily was far away when Tibur opened its +gates to the Goth. For more than half a year he and Venantius were busy +in maintaining the Gothic rule throughout Lucania and Apulia, where +certain Roman nobles endeavoured to raise an army of the peasantry in +aid of the Greek invasion constantly expected upon the Adriatic shore. +When at length he was recalled, the siege of Rome had begun. The Gothic +ladies now resided at Tibur, where a garrison was established; there +Basil and Veranilda again met, and again only for an hour. But their +hopes were high, and scarce could they repine at the necessity of +parting so soon. Already in a letter, Basil had spoken of the king's +promise; he now repeated it, whilst Veranilda flushed with happiness. + +'And you remain before Rome?' she asked. + +'Alas, no! I am sent to Ravenna, to spy out the strength of Belisarius.' + +But Rome was besieged, and so hateful had Bessas made himself to the +Roman people that it could not be long ere some plot among them +delivered the city. + +'Then,' cried Basil exultantly, 'I shall ask my reward.' + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +* * * * + + +On a winter's day, at the hour of sundown, Heliodora sat in her great +house on the Quirinal, musing sullenly. Beside her a brazier of +charcoal glowed in the dusk, casting a warm glimmer upon the sculptured +forms which were her only companions; she was wrapped in a scarlet +cloak, with a hood which shadowed her face. All day the sun had shone +brilliantly, but it glistened afar on snowy summits, and scarce +softened the mountain wind which blew through the streets of Rome. + +To divert a hungry populace, now six months besieged, Bessas was +offering entertainments such as suited the Saturnalian season. To-day +he had invited Rome to the Circus Maximus, where, because no spectacle +could be provided imposing enough to fill the whole vast space, half a +dozen shows were presented simultaneously; the spectators grouped here +and there, in number not a fiftieth part of that assembly which +thundered at the chariots in olden time. Here they sat along the +crumbling, grass-grown, and, as their nature was, gladly forgot their +country's ruin, their own sufferings, and the doom which menaced them. +Equestrians, contortionists, mimes, singers, were readily found in the +city, where a brave or an honest man had become rare indeed. What a +performance lacked in art, he supplied by shamelessness; and nowhere +was laughter so hearty, or the crowd so dense, as in that part of the +circus where comic singers and dancers vied with the grossest +traditions of the pagan theatre. + +Heliodora could not miss such an opportunity of enjoyment and of +display. She sat amid her like, the feline ladies and the young nobles, +half brute, half fop, who though already most of them fasted without +the merit of piety, still prided themselves on being the flower of +Roman fashion. During one of the pauses of the festival, when places +were changed, and limbs stretched, some one whispered to her that she +was invited to step towards that place of honour where sat the +Emperor's representative. An invitation of Bessas could not lightly be +declined, nor had Heliodora any reluctance to obey such a summons. More +than a year had gone by since her vain attempt, on Marcian's +suggestion, to enslave the avaricious Thracian, and, since then, the +hapless Muscula had had more than one successor. Roman gossip, always +busy with the fair Greek, told many a strange story to account for her +rigour towards the master of Rome, who was well known to have made +advances to her. So when to-day they were seen sitting side by side, +conversing vivaciously, curiosity went on tiptoe. The entertainment +over, Heliodora was carried home in her litter, no friend accompanying +her. Few nowadays were the persons in Rome who bade guests to their +table; even the richest had no great superfluity of viands. After +sunset, the city became a dark and silent desert, save when watch-fires +glared and soldiers guarded the walls. + +As was the case with all Romans who not long ago had commanded a +multitude of slaves and freedmen, Heliodora's household was much +reduced. Even before the siege began, many of the serving class stole +away to the Goths, who always received them with a welcome; and since +the closing of the gates this desertion had been of daily occurrence, +the fugitives having little difficulty in making their escape from so +vast a city so sparsely populated. No longer did the child from far-off +Anglia ride about on his mistress's errands; a female slave, punished +for boxing his ears, had stifled him as he slept, and fled that night +with five or six others who were tired of the lady's caprices and +feared her cruelty. Her aviary was empty. Having wearied of that whim, +she had let the birds loose; a generosity she regretted now that +toothsome morsels were rare. In her strong box there remained little +money, and the estate she owned in a distant part of Italy might as +well have been sunk in the sea for all the profit it could yield her. +True, she had objects of value, such as were daily accepted by Bessas +in exchange for corn and pork; but, if it came to that extremity, could +not better use be made of the tough-skinned commander? Heliodora had no +mind to support herself on bread and pork whilst food more appetising +might still be got. + +It was all but dark. She rang a hand-bell and was answered by a +maidservant. + +'Has Sagaris returned yet?' she asked impatiently. + +'Lady, not yet.' + +Heliodora kept silence for a moment, then bade the girl bring her a +lamp. A very small lamp was set upon the table, and as she glanced at +its poor flame, Heliodora remembered that the store of oil was nearly +at an end. + +Again she had sat alone for nearly half an hour, scarcely stirring, so +intent was she on the subject of her thoughts, when a light footfall +sounded without, and the curtain at the door was raised. She turned and +saw a dark countenance, which smiled upon her coldly. + +'Where have you been?' broke angrily from her lips. + +'Hither and thither,' was the softly insolent reply, as Sagaris let the +curtain fall behind him and stepped forward to the brazier, over which +he held out his hands to warm them. + +By his apparel, he might have been mistaken for a noble. + +Nominally he had for a year held the office of steward to Heliodora. +That his functions were not, as a matter of fact, all comprised under +that name was well known to all in the house, and to some beyond its +walls. + +'Were you at the Circus?' she next inquired, using the large hood to +avoid his gaze without seeming to do so. + +'I was there, gracious lady. Not, of course, in such an exalted place +as that in which I saw _you_.' + +'I did not choose that place,' said Heliodora, her voice almost +conciliatory. 'Being sent for, I could not refuse to go.' + +Sagaris set a stool near to his mistress, seated himself, and looked up +into her face. She, for an instant, bore it impatiently, but of a +sudden her countenance changed, and she met the gaze with a +half-mocking smile. + +'Is this one of your jealous days?' she asked, with what was meant for +playfulness, though the shining of her eyes and teeth in the lamplight +gave the words rather an effect of menace. + +'Perhaps it is,' answered the Syrian. 'What did Bessas say to you?' + +'Many things. He ended by asking me to sup at the palace. You will own +that the invitation was tempting.' + +Sagaris glared fiercely at her, and drew upon himself a look no less +fierce. + +'Fool!' she exclaimed, once more speaking in a natural voice. 'How +shall we live a month hence? Have you a mind to steal away to the +Goths? If you do so, you can't expect me to starve here alone. +Thick-willed slave! Can you see no further than the invitation to sup +with that thievish brute?--which I should have accepted, had I not +foreseen the necessity of explaining to your dulness all that might +follow upon it.' + +Esteeming himself the shrewdest of mankind, Sagaris deeply resented +these insults, not for the first time thrown at him by the woman whom +he regarded with an Oriental passion and contempt. + +'Of course I know what you mean,' he replied disdainfully. 'I know, +too, that you will be no match for the Thracian robber.' + +Heliodora caught his arm. + +'What if I can make him believe that Belisarius has the Emperor's +command to send him in chains to Constantinople! Would he not rather +come to terms with Totila, who, as I know well, long ago offered to let +him carry off half his plunder?' + +'You know that? How?' + +'Clod-pate! Have you forgotten your master whom Basil slew? Did I not +worm out of him, love-sick simpleton that he was, all the secrets of +his traffic with Greeks and Goths?' + +Again they glanced at each other like wild creatures before the leap. + +'Choose,' said Heliodora. 'Leave me free to make your fortune, for +Totila is generous to those who serve him well; or stay here and spy +upon me till your belly pinches, and the great opportunity of your life +is lost.' + +There was a silence. The Syrian's features showed how his mind was +rocking this way and that. + +'You have not cunning for this,' he snarled. 'The Thracian will use you +and laugh at you. And when you think to come back to me....' + +He touched the dagger at his waist. + +In that moment there came confused sounds from without the room. +Suddenly the curtain was pulled aside, and there appeared the face of a +frightened woman, who exclaimed: 'Soldiers, lady, soldiers are in the +house!' + +Heliodora started up. Sagaris, whose hand was still on the dagger's +hilt, grasped her by the mantle, his look and attitude so like that of +a man about to strike that she sprang away from him with a loud cry. +Again the curtain was raised, and there entered hurriedly several armed +men. Their leader looked with a meaning grin at the lady and her +companion, who now stood apart from each other. + +'Pardon our hasty entrance, fair Heliodora,' he said in Greek. 'The +commander has need of you--on pressing business.' + +'The commander must wait my leisure,' she replied with a note of +indignation over-emphasised. + +'Nay, that he cannot,' returned the officer, leering at Sagaris. 'He is +even now at supper, and will take it ill if you be not there when he +rises from table. A litter waits.' + +Not without much show of wrath did Heliodora yield. As she left the +room, her eyes turned to Sagaris, who had shrunk into a corner, coward +fear and furious passion distorting his face. The lady having been +borne away, a few soldiers remained in the house, where they passed the +night. On the morrow Bessas himself paid a visit to that famous museum +of sculpture, and after an inspection, which left no possible +hiding-place unsearched, sent away to the Palatine everything that +seemed to him worth laying hands upon. + +Meanwhile the domestics had all been held under guard. Sagaris, who +heard his relations with Heliodora jested over by the slaves and +soldiers, passed a night of terror, and when he knew of the commander's +arrival, scarce had strength to stand. To his surprise, nothing ill +befell him. During the pillage of the house he was disregarded, and +when Bessas had gone he only had to bear the scoffs of his +fellow-slaves. These unfortunates lived together as long as the scant +provisions lasted, then scattered in search of sustenance. The great +house on the Quirinal stood silent, left to its denizens of marble and +of bronze. + +Sagaris, who suspected himself to have been tricked by Heliodora in the +matter of her removal to the Palatine, and had not the least faith in +her power to beguile Bessas, swore by all the saints that the day of +his revenge should come; but for the present he had to think of how to +keep himself alive. Money he had none; it was idle to hope of attaching +himself to another household, and unless he escaped to the Goths, there +was no resource but to beg from one or other of those few persons who, +out of compassion and for their souls' sake, gave alms to the indigent. +Wandering in a venomous humour, he chanced to approach the Via Lata, +and out of curiosity turned to the house of Marcian. Not knowing +whether it was still inhabited, he knocked at the door, and was +surprised to hear a dog's bark, for nearly all the dogs in Rome had +already been killed and eaten. The wicket opened, and a voice spoke +which he well remembered. + +'You alive still, old Stephanus? Who feeds you? Open and teach me the +art of living on nothing.' + +He who opened looked indeed the image of Famine--a fleshless, tottering +creature, with scarce strength left to turn the key in the door. His +only companions in the house were his daughter and the dog. Till not +long ago there had been also the daughter's child, whom she had borne +to Marcian, but this boy was dead. + +'I'm glad to see you,' said Stephanus mysteriously, drawing his visitor +into the atrium, and speaking as if the house were full of people who +might overhear him. 'Your coming to-day is a strange thing. Have you, +perchance, had a dream?' + +'What dream should I have had?' answered Sagaris, his superstition at +once stirring. + +The old man related that last night, for the third time, he had dreamt +that a treasure lay buried in this house. Where he could not say, but +in his dream he seemed to descend stairs, and to reach a door which, +when he opened it, showed him a pile of gold, shining in so brilliant a +light that he fell back blinded, whereupon the door closed in his face. +To this the Syrian listened very curiously. Cellars there were below +the house, as he well knew, and hidden treasure was no uncommon thing +in Rome. Having bidden Stephanus light a torch, he went exploring, but +though they searched long, they could find no trace of a door long +unopened, or of a walled-up entrance. + +'You should have more wit in your dreaming, old scarecrow,' said +Sagaris. 'If I had had a dream such as that a second time, not to speak +of a third, do you think I should not have learnt the way. But you were +always a clod-pate.' + +Thus did he revenge himself for the contumely he had suffered from +Heliodora. As he spoke they were joined by the old man's daughter, who, +after begging at many houses, returned with a pocketful of lentils. The +girl had been pretty, but was now emaciated and fever-burnt; she looked +with ill-will at Sagaris, whom she believed, as did others of his +acquaintance, to have murdered Marcian, and to have invented the story +of his death at the hands of Basil. Well understanding this, Sagaris +amused himself with jesting on the loss of her beauty; why did she not +go to the Palatine, where handsome women were always welcome? Having +driven her away with his brutality, he advised Stephanus to keep silent +about the treasure, and promised to come again ere long. + +He now turned his steps to the other side of Tiber, and, after passing +through poor streets, where some show of industries was still kept up +by a few craftsmen, though for the most part folk sat or lay about in +sullen idleness, came to those grinding-mills on the slope of the +Janiculum which were driven by Trajan's aqueduct. Day and night the +wheels made their clapping noise, seeming to clamour for the corn which +did not come. At the door of one of the mills, a spot warmed by the +noonday sun, sat a middle-aged man, wretchedly garbed, who with a burnt +stick was drawing what seemed to be diagrams on the stone beside him. +At the sound of a footstep, rare in that place, he hastily smeared out +his designs, and looking up showed a visage which bore a racial +resemblance to that of Sagaris. Recognising the visitor, he smiled, +pointed to the ground in invitation, and when Sagaris had placed +himself near by, began talking in the tongue of their own Eastern land. +This man, who called himself Apollonius, had for some years enjoyed +reputation in Rome as an astrologer, thereby gaining much money; and +even in these dark days he found people who were willing to pay him, +either in coin or food, for his counsel and prophecies. Fearful of +drawing attention upon himself, as one who had wealth in store, he had +come to live like a beggar in this out-of-the-way place, where his +money was securely buried, and with it a provision of corn, peas, and +lentils which would keep him alive for a long time. Apollonius was the +only man living whom Sagaris, out of reverence and awe, would have +hesitated to rob, and the only man to whom he did not lie. For beside +being learned in the stars, an interpreter of dreams, a prophet of +human fate, Apollonius spoke to those he could trust of a religion, of +sacred mysteries, much older, he said, and vastly more efficacious for +the soul's weal than the faith in Christ. To this religion Sagaris also +inclined, for it was associated with memories of his childhood in the +East; if he saw the rising of the sun, and was unobserved, he bowed +himself before it, with various other observances of which he had +forgotten the meaning. + +His purpose in coming hither was to speak of Stephanus's dream. The +astrologer listened very attentively, and, after long brooding, +consented to use his art for the investigation of the matter. + +* * * * + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Veranilda, by George Gissing + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VERANILDA *** + +***** This file should be named 4306.txt or 4306.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/4/3/0/4306/ + +Produced by Charles Aldarondo. HTML version by Al Haines. + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Hart +and may be reprinted only when these Etexts are free of all fees.] +[Project Gutenberg is a TradeMark and may not be used in any sales +of Project Gutenberg Etexts or other materials be they hardware or +software or any other related product without express permission.] + +*END THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.10/04/01*END* + + + + +Edited by Charles Aldarondo (aldarondo@yahoo.com) + +Veranilda + +By George Gissing + + + + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE VANQUISHED ROMAN + + + + +Seven years long had the armies of Justinian warred against the +Goths in Italy. Victor from Rhegium to Ravenna, the great commander +Belisarius had returned to the East, Carrying captive a Gothic king. +The cities of the conquered land were garrisoned by barbarians of +many tongues, who bore the name of Roman soldiers; the Italian +people, brought low by slaughter, dearth, and plague, crouched under +the rapacious tyranny of governors from Byzantium. + +Though children born when King Theodoric still reigned had yet +scarce grown to manhood, that golden age seemed already a legend of +the past. Athalaric, Amalasuntha, Theodahad, last of the Amal blood, +had held the throne in brief succession and were gone; warriors +chosen at will by the Gothic host, mere kings of the battlefield, +had risen and perished; reduced to a wandering tribe, the nation +which alone of her invaders had given peace and hope to Italy, which +alone had reverenced and upheld the laws, polity, culture of Rome, +would soon, it was thought, be utterly destroyed, or vanish in +flight beyond the Alps. Yet war did not come to an end. In the plain +of the great river there was once more a chieftain whom the Goths +had raised upon their shields, a king, men said, glorious in youth +and strength, and able, even yet, to worst the Emperor's generals. +His fame increased. Ere long he was known to be moving southward, to +have crossed the Apennines, to have won a battle in Etruria. The +name of this young hero was Totila. + +In these days the senators of Rome, heirs to a title whose ancient +power and dignity were half-forgotten, abode within the City, under +constraint disguised as honour, the conqueror's hostages. One among +them, of noblest name, Flavius Anicius Maximus, broken in health by +the troubles of the time and by private sorrow, languishing all but +unto death in the heavy air of the Tiber, was permitted to seek +relief in a visit to which he would of his domains in Italy. His +birth, his repute, gave warrant of loyalty to the empire, and his +coffers furnished the price put upon such a favour by Byzantine +greed. Maximus chose for refuge his villa by the Campanian shore, +vast, beautiful, half in ruin, which had been enjoyed by generations +of the Anician family; situated above the little town of Surrentum +it caught the cooler breeze, and on its mountainous promontory lay +apart from the tramp of armies. Here, as summer burned into autumn, +the sick man lived in brooding silence, feeling his strength waste, +and holding to the world only by one desire. + +The household comprised his unwedded sister Petronilla, a lady in +middle age, his nephew Basil, and another kinsman, Decius, a student +and an invalid; together with a physician, certain freedmen who +rendered services of trust, a eunuch at the Command of Petronilla, +and the usual body of male and female slaves. Some score of +glebe-bound peasants cultivated the large estate for their lord's +behoof. Notwithstanding the distress that had fallen upon the Roman +nobility, many of whom were sunk into indigence, the chief of the +Anicii still controlled large means; and the disposal of these +possessions at his death was matter of interest to many persons-- +not least to the clergy of Rome, who found in the dying man's sister +a piously tenacious advocate. Children had been born to Maximus, but +the only son who reached mature years fell a victim to pestilence +when Vitiges was camped about the City. There survived one daughter, +Aurelia. Her the father had not seen for years; her he longed to see +and to pardon ere he died. For Aurelia, widowed of her first husband +in early youth, had used her liberty to love and wed a flaxen-haired +barbarian, a lord of the Goths; and, worse still, had renounced the +Catholic faith for the religion of the Gothic people, that heresy of +Arianism condemned and abhorred by Rome. In Consequence she became +an outcast from her kith and kin. Her husband commanded in the city +of Cumae, hard by Neapolis. When this stronghold fell before the +advance of Belisarius, the Goth escaped, soon after to die in +battle; Aurelia, a captive of the Conquerors, remained at Cumae, and +still was living there, though no longer under restraint. Because of +its strength, this ancient city became the retreat of many ladies +who fled from Rome before the hardships and perils of the siege; +from them the proud and unhappy woman. ever held apart, yet she +refused to quit the town when she would have been permitted to do +so. From his terrace above the Surrentine shore, Maximus gazed +across the broad gulf to the hills that concealed Cumae, yearning +for the last of his children. When at length he wrote her a letter, +a letter of sad kindness, inviting rather than beseeching her to +visit him, Aurelia made no reply. Wounded, he sunk again into +silence, until his heart could no longer bear its secret burden, and +he spoke--not to Petronilla, from whose austere orthodoxy little +sympathy was to be expected--but to his nephew Basil, whose +generous mettle willingly lent itself to such a service as was +proposed. On his delicate mission, the young man set forth without +delay. To Cumae, whether by sea or land, was but a short journey: +starting at daybreak, Basil might have given ample time to his +embassy, and have been back again early on the morrow. But the +second day passed, and he did not return. Though harassed by the +delay, Maximus tried to deem it of good omen, and nursed his hope +through another sleepless night. + +Soon after sunrise, he was carried forth to his place of +observation, a portico in semicircle, the marble honey-toned by +time, which afforded shelter from the eastern rays and commanded a +view of vast extent. Below him lay the little town, built on the +cliffs above its landing-place; the hillsides on either hand were +clad with vineyards, splendid in the purple of autumn, and with +olives. Sky and sea shone to each other in perfect calm; the softly +breathing air mingled its morning freshness with a scent of fallen +flower and leaf. A rosy vapour from Vesuvius floated gently inland; +and this the eye of Maximus marked with contentment, as it signified +a favourable wind for a boat crossing hither from the far side of +the bay. For the loveliness of the scene before him, its noble +lines, its jewelled colouring, he had little care; but the infinite +sadness of its suggestion, the decay and the desolation uttered by +all he saw, sank deep into his heart. If his look turned to the +gleaming spot which was the city of Neapolis, there came into his +mind the sack and massacre of a few years ago, when Belisarius so +terribly avenged upon the Neapolitans their stubborn resistance to +his siege. Faithful to the traditions of his house, of his order, +Maximus had welcomed the invasion which promised to restore Italy to +the Empire; now that the restoration was effected, he saw with +bitterness the evils resulting from it, and all but hoped that this +new king of the Goths, this fortune-favoured Totila, might sweep the +land of its Greek oppressors. He looked back upon his own life, on +the placid dignity of his career under the rule of Theodoric, the +offices by which he had risen, until he sat in the chair of the +Consul. Yet in that time, which now seemed so full of peaceful +glories, he had never at heart been loyal to the great king; in his +view, as in that of the nobles generally, Theodoric was but a +usurper, who had abused the mandate intrusted to him by the Emperor +Zeno, to deliver Italy from the barbarians. When his own kinsmen, +Boethius and Symmachus, were put to death on a charge of treachery, +Maximus burned with hatred of the Goth. He regarded with disdain the +principles of Cassiodorus, who devoted his life to the Gothic cause, +and who held that only as an independent kingdom could there be hope +for Italy. Having for a moment the ear of Theodoric's daughter, +Amalasuntha, when she ruled for her son, Maximus urged her to yield +her kingdom to the Emperor, and all but saw his counsel acted upon. +After all, was not Cassiodorus right? Were not the senators who had +ceaselessly intrigued with Byzantium in truth traitors to Rome? It +was a bitter thought for the dying man that all his life he had not +only failed in service to his country, but had obstinately wrought +for her ruin. + +Attendants placed food beside him. He mingled wine with water and +soothed a feverish thirst. His physician, an elderly man of Oriental +visage, moved respectfully to his side, greeted him as Illustrious, +inquired how his Magnificence had passed the latter part of the +night. Whilst replying, as ever courteously--for in the look and +bearing of Maximus there was that _senatorius decor_ which Pliny +noted in a great Roman of another time--his straining eyes seemed +to descry a sail in the quarter he continually watched. Was it only +a fishing boat? Raised upon the couch, he gazed long and fixedly. +Impossible as yet to be sure whether he saw the expected bark; but +the sail seemed to draw nearer, and he watched. + +The voice of a servant, who stood at a respectful distance, +announced: 'The gracious Lady'; and there appeared a little +procession. Ushered by her eunuch, and attended by half a dozen +maidens, one of whom held over her a silk sunshade with a handle of +gold, the sister of Maximus approached at a stately pace. She was +tall, and of features severely regular; her dark hair--richer in +tone and more abundant than her years could warrant--rose in +elaborate braiding intermingled with golden threads; her waistless +robe was of white silk adorned with narrow stripes of purple, which +descended, two on each side, from the shoulders to the hem, and +about her neck lay a shawl of delicate tissue. In her hand, which +glistened with many gems, she carried a small volume, richly bound, +the Psalter. Courtesies of the gravest passed between her and +Maximus, who, though he could not rise from his couch, assumed an +attitude of graceful deference, and Petronilla seated herself in a +chair which a slave had placed for her. After many inquiries as to +her brother's health, the lady allowed her eyes to wander for a +moment, then spoke with the smile of one who imparts rare tidings. + +'Late last night--too late to trouble you with the news--there +came a post from the reverend deacon Leander. He disembarked +yesterday at Salernum, and, after brief repose, hopes to visit us. +Your Amiability will, I am sure, welcome his coming.' + +'Assuredly,' answered Maximus, bending his head, whilst his eyes +watched the distant sail. 'Whence comes he?' + +'From Sicily. We shall learn, I dare say, the business which took +him there,' added Petronilla, with a self-satisfied softening of her +lips. 'The deacon is wont to talk freely with me of whatever +concerns the interests of our holy Church, even as I think you +remember, has now and then deigned--though I know not how I have +deserved such honour--to ask, I dare not say my counsel, but my +humble thoughts on this or that. I think we may expect him before +morning. The day will not be too warm for travel.' + +Maximus wore an anxious look, and spoke after hesitation. + +'Will his reverend leisure permit him to pass more than one day with +us?' + +'Earnestly I hope so. You, beyond doubt, dear lord, my brother, will +desire long privacy with the holy man. His coming at this time is +plainly of Heaven's direction.' + +'Lady sister,' answered Maximus, with the faintest smile on his sad +features, 'I would not willingly rob you of a moment's conference +with the good deacon. My own business with him is soon despatched. I +would fain be assured of burial in the Temple of Probus where sleep +our ancestors.' + +'Of that,' replied Petronilla, solemnly and not unkindly, 'doubt not +for a moment. Your body shall lie there, by the blessed Peter's +sanctuary, and your tomb be honoured among those of the greatest of +our blood. But there is another honour that I covet for you, an +honour above all that the world can bestow. In these sad times, +Maximus, the Church has need of strengthening. You have no children--' + +A glance from the listener checked her, and, before she could +resume, Maximus interposed in a low voice: + +'I have yet a daughter.' + +'A daughter?' exclaimed Petronilla, troubled, confused, scarce +subduing indignation. + +'It is better I should tell you,' continued her brother, with some +sternness, resulting from the efforts to command himself, 'that +Basil is gone to Cumae to see Aurelia, and, if it may be, to lead +her to me. Perhaps even now'--he pointed to the sea--'they are +on the way hither. Let us not speak of it, Petronilla,' he added in +a firmer tone. 'It is my will; that must suffice. Of you I ask +nothing save silence.' + +The lady arose. Her countenance expressed angry and bitter feeling, +but there was no danger of her uttering what she thought. Gravely, +somewhat coldly, she spoke good wishes for her brother's ease during +the day, and so retired with her retinue. Alone, Maximus sighed, and +looked again across the waters. + +In a few minutes the servant who guarded his privacy was again heard +announcing the lord Decius. The Senator turned his eyes with a look +of good-humoured greeting. + +'Abroad so early, good cousin? Did the oil fail you last night and +send you too soon to bed?' + +'You have not chanced to remember, dear my lord, what day it is?' +returned Decius, when he had bestowed a kiss on his kinsman's cheek. +'Had I but vigour enough, this morning would have seen me on a +pilgrimage to the tomb.' He put out a hand towards Neapolis. 'I rose +at daybreak to meditate the Fourth Eclogue.' + +'The ides of October--true. I take shame to myself for having lost +the memory of Virgil in my own distresses.' + +Decius, whose years were scarce thirty, had the aspect and the gait +of an elderly man; his thin hair streaked with grey, his cheeks +hollow, his eyes heavy, he stooped in walking and breathed with +difficulty; the tunic and the light cloak, which were all his +attire, manifested an infinite carelessness in matters of costume, +being worn and soiled. Than he, no Roman was poorer; he owned +nothing but his clothing and a few books. Akin to the greatest, and +bearing a name of which he was inordinately proud--as a schoolboy +he had once burst into tears when reciting with passion the Lay of +the Decii--felt content to owe his sustenance to the delicate and +respectful kindness of Maximus, who sympathised with the great wrong +he had suffered early in life. This was no less than wilful +impoverishment by his father, who, seeking to atone for sins by +fanaticism, had sold the little he possessed to found a pilgrims' +hospice at Portus, whither, accompanied by the twelve-year-old boy, +he went to live as monk-servitor In a year or two the penitent died; +Decius, in revolt against the tasks to which he was subjected, +managed to escape, made his way to Rome, and appealed to Maximus. +Nominally he still held the post of secretary to his benefactor, but +for many years he had enjoyed entire leisure, all of it devoted to +study. Several times illness had brought him to the threshold of +death, yet it had never conquered his love of letters, his +enthusiasm for his country's past. Few liked him only one or two +understood him: Decius was content that it should be so. + +'Let us speak of it,' he continued, unrolling a manuscript of Virgil +some two hundred years old, a gift to him from Maximus. 'Tell me, +dear lord, your true thought: is it indeed a prophecy of the Divine +Birth? To you'--he smiled his gentle, beautiful smile--'may I +not confess that I have doubted this interpretation? Yet'--he cast +his eyes down--'the doubt is perhaps a prompting of the spirit of +evil.' + +'I know not, Decius, I know not,' replied the sick man with +thoughtful melancholy. 'My father held it a prophecy his father +before him.--But forgive me, I am expecting anxiously the return +of Basil; yonder sail--is it his? Your eyes see further than +mine.' + +Decius at once put aside his own reflections, and watched the +oncoming bark. Before long there was an end of doubt. Rising in +agitation to his feet, Maximus gave orders that the litter, which +since yesterday morning had been in readiness, should at once be +borne with all speed down to the landing-place. Sail and oars soon +brought the boat so near that Decius was able to descry certain +female figures and that of a man, doubtless Basil, who stood up and +waved his arms shoreward. + +'She has come,' broke from Maximus; and, in reply to his kinsman's +face of inquiry, he told of whom it was he spoke. + +The landing-place was not visible from here. As soon as the boat +disappeared beneath the buildings of the town, Maximus requested of +his companion a service which asked some courage in the performance: +it was, to wait forthwith upon the Lady Petronilla, to inform her +that Aurelia had just disembarked, to require that three female +slaves should be selected to attend upon the visitor. This mission +Decius discharged, not without trembling; he then walked to the main +entrance of the villa, and stood there, the roll of Virgil still in +his hand, until the sound of a horse's hoofs on the upward road +announced the arrival of the travellers. The horseman, who came some +yards in advance of the slave-borne litter, was Basil. At sight of +Decius, he dismounted, and asked in an undertone: 'You know?' The +other replied with the instructions given by Maximus, that the +litter, which was closed against curious eyes, should be straightway +conveyed to the Senator's presence, Basil himself to hold apart +until summoned. + +And so it was done. Having deposited their burden between two +columns of the portico, the bearers withdrew. The father's voice +uttered the name of Aurelia, and, putting aside the curtains that +had concealed her, she stood before him. A woman still young, and of +bearing which became her birth; a woman who would have had much +grace, much charm, but for the passion which, turned to vehement +self-will, had made her blood acrid. Her great dark eyes burned with +quenchless resentment; her sunken and pallid face told of the +sufferings of a tortured pride. + +'Lord Maximus,' were her first words, as she stood holding by the +litter, glancing distrustfully about her, 'you have sworn!' + +'Hear me repeat my oath,' answered the father, strengthened by his +emotion to move forward from the couch. 'By the blessed martyr +Pancratius, I swear that no harm shall befall you, no constraint +shall be put upon you, that you shall be free to come and to go as +you will.' + +It was the oath no perjurer durst make. Aurelia gazed into her +father's face, which was wet with tears. She stepped nearer to him, +took his thin, hot hand, and, as in her childhood, bent to kiss the +back of the wrist. But Maximus folded her to his heart. + + + + + + +CHAPTER II + +BASIL'S VISION + + + + +Basil and Decius paced together a garden alley, between a row of +quince-trees and a hedge of Christ's-thorn; at one end was a +fountain in a great basin of porphyry, at the other a little temple, +very old and built for the worship of Isis, now an oratory under the +invocation of the Blessed Mary. The two young men made a singular +contrast, for Basil, who was in his twenty-third year, had all the +traits of health and vigour: a straight back, lithe limbs, a face +looking level on the world, a lustrous eye often touched to ardour, +a cheek of the purest carnation, a mouth that told of fine +instincts, delicate sensibilities, love of laughter. No less did his +costume differ from the student's huddled garb; his tunic was finely +embroidered in many hues, his silken cloak had a great buckle of +gold on the shoulder; he wore ornate shoes, and by his waist hung a +silver-handled dagger in a sheath of chased bronze. He stepped +lightly, as one who asks but the occasion to run and leap. In their +intimate talk, he threw an arm over his companion's neck, a movement +graceful as it was affectionate; his voice had a note frank and +cordial. + +Yet Basil was not quite his familiar self to-day; he talked with +less than his natural gaiety, wore a musing look, fell into +silences. Now that Aurelia had come, there was no motive for reserve +on that subject with Decius, and indeed they conversed of their +kinswoman with perfect openness, pitying rather than condemning her, +and wondering what would result from her presence under one roof +with the rigid Petronilla. Not on Aurelia's account did Basil droop +his head now and then, look about him vacantly, bite his lip, answer +a question at hazard, play nervously with his dagger's hilt. All at +once, with an abruptness which moved his companion's surprise, he +made an inquiry, seemingly little relevant to their topic. + +'Heard you ever of a Gothic princess--a lady of the lineage of +Theodoric--still living in Italy?' + +'Never,' responded Decius, with a puzzled smile. 'Is there such a +one?' + +'I am told so--I heard it by chance. Yet I know not who she can +be. Did not the direct line of Theodoric end with Athalaric and his +sister Matasuntha, who is now at the Emperor's court?' + +'So I believed,' said Decius, 'though I have thought but little of +the matter.' + +'I too, trust me,' let fall Basil, with careful carelessness; no +actor he. 'And the vile Theodahad--what descendants did he leave?' + +'He was a scholar,' said the other musingly, 'deep read in Plato.' + +'None the less a glutton and a murderer and a coward, who did well +to give his throat to the butcher as he ran away from his enemies. +Children he had, I think--but--' + +Basil broke off on a wandering thought. He stood still, knitted his +brows, and sniffed the air. At this moment there appeared in the +alley a serving man, a young and active fellow of very honest +visage, who stood at some yards' distance until Basil observed him. + +'What is it, Felix?' inquired his master. + +The attendant stepped forward, and made known that the lord Marcian +had even now ridden up to the villa, with two followers, and desired +to wait upon Basil. This news brought a joyful light to the eyes of +the young noble; he hastened to welcome his friend, the dearest he +had. Marcian, a year or two his elder, was less favoured by nature +in face and form: tall and vigorous enough of carriage, he showed +more bone and sinew than flesh; and his face might have been that of +a man worn by much fasting, so deep sunk were the eyes, so jutting +the cheek-bones, and so sharp the chin; its cast, too, was that of a +fixed and native melancholy. But when he smiled, these features +became much more pleasing, and revealed a kindliness of temper such +as might win the love of one who knew him well. His dress was plain, +and the dust of Campanian roads lay somewhat thick upon him. + +'By Bacchus!' cried his friend, as they embraced each other, +'fortune is good to me to-day. Could I have had but one wish +granted, it would have been to see Marcian. I thought you still in +Rome. What makes you travel? Not in these days solely to visit a +friend, I warrant. By Peter and Paul and as many more saints as you +can remember, I am glad to hold your hand! What news do you bring?' + +'Little enough,' answered Marcian, with a shrug of the shoulders. +The natural tune of his voice harmonised with his visage, and he +spoke as one who feels a scornful impatience with the affairs of +men. 'At Rome, they wrangle about goats' wool, as is their wont. +Anything else? Why, yes; the freedman Chrysanthus glories in an +ex-consulate. It cost him the trifle of thirty pounds of gold.' + +Basil laughed contemptuously, half angrily. + +'We must look to our honours,' he exclaimed. 'If Chrysanthus be +ex-consul, can you and I be satisfied with less than +ex-Praetorian-Prefect? What will be the price, think you? Has Bessas +hung out a tariff yet in the Forum?' + +'He knows better than to fix a maximum, as long as a wealthy fool +remains in the city--though that won't be much longer, I take it.' + +'Why come you hither, dear my lord?' urged Basil, with more +seriousness. + +Regarding him with a grave eye, his friend replied in an undertone: + +'To spy upon you.' + +'Ha!--In very truth?' + +'You could wish me a more honourable office,' Marcian went on, +smiling sadly. 'Yet, if you think of it, in these days, it is some +honour to be a traitor to both sides. There has been talk of you in +Rome. Nay, who knows how or why l They have nothing to do but talk, +and these victories of the Goth have set up such a Greek cackle as +was never heard since Helen ran away to Troy,--and, talking of +Greek, I bear a letter for you from Heliodora.' + +Basil, who had been listening gravely, started at this name and +uttered an idle laugh. From a wallet hanging at his girdle, Marcian +drew forth the missive. + +'That may wait,' said Basil, glancing indifferently at the folded +and sealed paper before he hid it away. 'Having said so much, you +must tell me more. Put off that sardonic mask--I know very well +what hides beneath it--and look me in the eye. You have surprised +some danger?' + +'I heard you spoken of--by one who seldom opens his lips but to +ill purpose. It was not difficult for me to wade through the +shallows of the man's mind, and for my friend's sake to win his base +confidence. Needing a spy, and being himself a born traitor, he +readily believed me at his beck; in truth he had long marked me, so +I found, for a cankered soul who waited but the occasion to advance +by infamy. I held the creature in my hand; I turned him over and +over, and he, the while, thinking me his greedy slave. And so, +usurping the place of some other who would have ambushed you in real +enmity, I came hither on his errand.' + +'Marcian,' said the listener, 'I could make a guess at that man's +name.' + +'Nay, I doubt if you could, and indeed it matters nothing. Enough +that I may do you some little service.' + +'For which,' replied Basil, 'I cannot pay you, since all my love is +already yours. And she--Heliodora,' he added, with a careless +gesture, 'knows of your mission?' + +'Of my mission, no; but of my proposed journey. Though indeed she +may know more than I suppose. Who shall say what reaches the ear of +Heliodora--?' + +'You have not heard perhaps that her husband is dead?' + +'The Prefect dead?' exclaimed Basil. + +'Three weeks ago.--Rather suddenly--after supper. An +indigestion, no doubt.' + +Marcian spoke with peculiar dryness, averting his eyes from the +listener. Upon Basil's face came a deep flush; he took out the +folded paper again, and held it at arm's length. + +'You mean--? You think--?' he stammered. + +'About women I think not at all,' said the other, 'as you well know. +There is talk, talk--what care I?' + +Basil tore the letter open. It contained a lock of raven-black hair, +tied with gold thread, and on the paper was written, in Greek, 'I am +free.' Again his cheek flushed; he crushed paper and hair together +in his hand. + +'Let us never again speak of her,' he exclaimed, moving away from +the spot. 'Before I left Rome, I told you that I would gladly see +her no more, and you smiled dubiously. Believe me now. I abhor the +thought of her. If she ask you for my reply, repeat those words.' + +'Nay, dear my lord, in that I will beg to be excused,' replied +Marcian with his melancholy smile. + +They were walking silently, side by side, when the servant Felix +again presented himself before them. Maximus, having heard of the +arrival of Marcian from Rome, requested that he and Basil would +grant him a moment of their leisure. At once the young men turned to +obey this summons. On the way, Basil communicated to his friend in a +whisper the event of the day. A couple of hours having passed since +Aurelia's coming, the Senator had in some degree recovered from his +agitation; he lay now in a room which opened upon the central court +of the villa, a room adorned with rich marbles and with +wall-paintings which were fading under the hand of time. Deathly +pale, scarce able to raise his head from the cushion of the couch, +he none the less showed a countenance bright with joyous emotion. +His quivering voice strove to welcome the visitor cheerily. + +'What news from the city, dear lord Marcian? How are all our +friends? Do they begin to forget us?' + +'Not so, Illustrious,' answered the young man, with head bent. 'You +are much desired in the Senate, where grave counsel is just now +greatly in demand.' + +'The Senate, the Senate,' murmured Maximus, as if reminded of +something he had long forgotten. 'They must needs lack my voice, I +fear. What do men say of the Gothic king?' + +Marcian threw a glance at Basil, then towards the curtained portals +of the room; lastly, his eyes turned upon the sick man, whom he +regarded steadily. + +'They say much--or little,' fell from his lips. + +'I understand you,' replied the Senator, with a friendly movement of +the head. 'Here we may speak freely. Does Totila draw near to Rome?' + +'He is still in Tuscany, and rumours come from his army that he will +pass into Samnium. All the strongholds of Umbria are his; all the +conquests of Belisarius from Ariminum to Spoletium.' + +'Where are the Roman captains?' + +'Each in his city of the far north, holding the plunder he has got, +and looking for the chance of more. In Rome--' + +Marcian paused significantly, and the Senator took up his words. + +'In Rome rules Bessas.' + +'The Thracian,' remarked Basil bitterly. + +'And in Ravenna,' added the sick man, 'Alexandros--the +coin-clipper.' + +The eyes of Basil and of Marcian encountered. Between them came no +shadow of distrust, the smile they exchanged told of loyal +affection. + +'This Totila,' pursued Marcian, 'seems to be not only a brave and +capable commander, but a shrewd politician. Everywhere he spares the +people; he takes nothing by force; his soldiers buy at market; he +protects the farmer against the taxing Greek. As a result, his army +grows; where he passes, he leaves a good report, and before him goes +a welcome. At this rate he will soon make all Italy his own. And +unless the Patricius returns--' + +By this title men were wont to speak of Belisarius. Hearing it, +Basil threw up an arm, his eyes flashing. + +'The Patricius!' he exclaimed fervently. 'There is the man who might +have saved us!' + +'By the holy Laurentius!' murmured Maximus, looking sadly at his +nephew, 'I have all but come to think as you do.' + +'Who that knew him,' cried Basil, 'but must have seen him, in +thought--not King, for only the barbarians have kings--but +Emperor--Emperor of the West, ruling at Rome as in the days gone +by! There lives no man more royal. I have seen him day by day +commanding and taking counsel; I have talked with him in his +privacy. In the camp before Ravenna there was but one voice, one +hope, as to what should follow when the city opened its gates, and +the Goths themselves only surrendered because they thought to be +ruled by him. But for the scruple of his conscience--and should +not that have yielded to the general good?' + +'Is breach of faith so light a thing?' fell from Marcian, under his +breath. + +'Nay,' answered the other, with drooping head, 'but he did break +faith with _us_. We had his promise; we saw him Emperor--' + +'You should have won Antonina,' said Marcian, with a return to his +sarcastic humour. 'She must have mused long and anxiously, weighing +the purple against Theodora's fury. The Patrician's fidelity stood +by his wife's prudence.' + +'The one blot upon his noble nature,' uttered Basil, with a sigh. +'His one weakness. How,' he cried scornfully, 'can the conqueror of +half the world bend before such a woman?' + +Fatigued already by the conversation, Maximus had lain back and +closed his eyes. Very soon the two young men received his permission +to withdraw, and, as they left the room, the physician entered. +Obedient to this counsellor the invalid gave several hours to +repose, but midway in the afternoon he again summoned his daughter, +with whom he had a long and agitating conversation. He besought +Aurelia to cast off her heretical religion, putting before her all +the perils to which she exposed herself, by abandonment of the true +faith, in this world and the next. His life was hurrying to its end; +hour by hour he felt the fever wasting what little strength remained +to him; and when he was gone who would protect her against the +enmities to which religion and avarice would expose her? Aurelia's +resistance was sullen rather than resolute; her countenance, her +words, suggested that she was thinking more of what it would cost +her pride to become a penitent than of any obstacle in conscience. +At length she declared plainly that never would she humiliate +herself before her aunt Petronilla, who had offered her no greeting +and held scornfully apart. Here, as Maximus too well knew, lay the +great difficulty of the situation; these women hated each other, and +their hate would only be exasperated by Aurelia's conversion. He +spoke of the deacon Leander, now on his way hither--begged Aurelia +to listen to the reverend man, and gave solemn assurance that, the +moment she abjured her errors, he would place her in a position of +wealth and authority far above that of Petronilla. So utterly did he +exhaust himself in entreaty and argument that he fell into a +fainting fit. The physician was called for, and Aurelia, she too +overcome with violent emotions, again retired to the part of the +villa which had been assigned to her. + +The Anicii of a bygone time, who took their solace here when marbles +and mosaics, paintings and tapestries, were yet new, would have +looked with consternation on halls so crumbling and bare, chambers +so ill-appointed, as these in which the guests of the Senator +Maximus had their dwelling. Space there was in abundance, but of +comfort in the guest-rooms little enough; and despite her brother's +commands, Petronilla had seen to it that Aurelia was not luxuriously +lodged. Better accommodation awaited the deacon Leander, whose +arrival was announced an hour before sunset by a trotting courier. +His journey from Salernum had so wearied the ecclesiastic that he +could but give a hand to be kissed by his hostess, and straightway +retire into privacy; the repast that was ready for him had to be +served beside his couch, and soon after night had fallen, Leander +slumbered peacefully. Meanwhile Basil and Decius and their friend +from Rome had supped together, making what cheer they might under +the circumstances; the Surrentine wine was a little acrid, falling +short of its due age, but it sufficed to animate the talk. Presently +Decius withdrew, to study or to meditate through some hours of the +night, for he slept ill; the others, going apart to a gallery +lighted by the full moon, sat wrapped in thick, hooded cloaks, to +converse awhile before they slept. With their voices mingled the +soft splash of a fountain. + +Basil was telling of his journey to Cumae, and of the difficulty he +had had in persuading Aurelia to visit her father. + +'Does she live alone there?' inquired Marcian. + +There was a pause before the reply, and when Basil spoke his voice +fell to a note of half-hesitating confidence. + +'Alone? yes,' he said, 'in the sense that no relative abode with +her; but she had a companion--a lady--very young.' And here he +again paused, as if in some embarrassment. + +'A Roman?' was Marcian's next question, carelessly thrown out for he +had little interest in Aurelia, and was half occupied with other +thoughts. + +'No,' answered Basil, his voice subdued. 'A Goth; and, she says, of +the royal blood, of the line of Theodoric.' + +His friend became attentive. 'A Gothic princess? Whose daughter, +then?' asked Marcian. And Basil, who desired nothing more than to +speak on this subject, little by little threw off his hesitancy, +grew rapid and eager in narration. He told how, on his first +introduction to Aurelia's presence, he had found. sitting with her a +young girl, whose aspect proclaimed her of the Gothic race. In a +second interview with his cousin, alone, Aurelia had spoken of this +companion, bestowing much praise upon her, and declaring that they +were united by an affection which nothing could diminish. She was of +Amal blood; more than that Aurelia seemed unwilling to reveal. + +'Did you not learn her name?' asked the listener. + +'Veranilda.' + +Marcian echoed the melodious syllables, but they told him nothing. + +'And did you make no inquiry of those with whom you spoke?' + +'I conversed as little as might be with strangers, and purposely +held apart from our acquaintances in the town; this was my uncle's +express command.' + +'You had no second sight of her?' + +'Indeed I had; and talked with her moreover. Marcian, how can I +describe her to you? The words which suffice for common beauty sound +meaningless when I would use them to depict Veranilda. Shall I tell +you that she has hair of the purest gold, eyes brighter than the sky +at noon, lips like the flower of the pomegranate, a cheek so fair, +so soft--nay, you may well laugh at these idle phrases--' + +'Not your phrases,' said Marcian, 'but your voice as it utters them +sets me smiling. Talk on. The chaste goddess who beams above us +inspire you with worthy terms!' + +'There you speak to the point,' pursued Basil ardently. 'For +Veranilda is chaste as she is beautiful. Blessed saints! how my +heart shrank in abhorrence when I saw that letter this morning; and +how fain I would blot from my memory that baseness of the past! O +Marcian, truest of friends, I slighted your counsel, scoffed at your +warnings, but now I know how wisely and how honestly you spoke.' + +'Be that as it may,' said the other. 'But is it possible that, on a +mere glimpse, this Gothic maiden should so have vanquished you?' + +'It had been more prudent to hold my peace. But you know me of old. +When I am moved, I must needs unbosom myself; happy that I have one +whom I can trust. Her voice, Marcian! This whisper of the night +breeze in the laurels falls rudely upon the ear after Veranilda's +speech. Never have I heard a tone so soft, so gentle. The first word +she spoke thrilled through me, as never did voice before; and I +listened, listened, hoping she would speak again.' + +'Who may she be? Has not the lady Aurelia adorned her origin? Golden +hair and blue eyes are no rarity among daughters of the Goths.' + +'Had you seen her!' exclaimed Basil, and grew rapturous again. +Whilst he exhausted language in the effort to prove how remote was +Veranilda from any shape of loveliness easily presented by memory or +imagination, Marcian pondered. + +'I can think of but one likelihood,' was his quiet remark, when his +friend had become silent. 'King Theodahad had a daughter, who +married the Gothic captain, Ebrimut.' + +'The traitor,' murmured Basil uneasily. + +'Or friend of the Romans, as you will. He delivered Rhegium to +Belisarius, and enjoys his reward at Byzantium. What if he left a +child behind him?' + +Basil repulsed the suggestion vehemently. + +'Not that! I had half thought of it myself; but no. Aurelia said of +the house of Theodoric.' + +'Why so would be a daughter of Ebrimut, through her mother--who +was the daughter of Theodahad, who was the son of Amalafrida, who +was the sister of Theodoric himself.' + +'She could not have meant that,' protested Basil. 'Child of a +mercenary traitor, who opened Italy to his people's foe! Not that! +Had you seen her, you would not believe it.' + +'Oh, my good Basil,' laughed the other, 'do you think I should see +her with your eyes? But perhaps we conjecture idly quite missing the +mark. What does it matter? You have no intention, I hope, of +returning to Cumae?' + +Basil opened his lips to reply, but thought better of it, and said +nothing. Then his friend turned to speak of the ecclesiastical +visitor who had that evening arrived, and, the subject not proving +very fruitful, each presently betook himself to his night's repose. + + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE DEACON LEANDER + + + + +The deacon Leander was some forty years of age, stoutish, a trifle +asthmatic, with a long visage expressive of much shrewdness, and +bushy eyebrows, which lent themselves at will to a look of genial +condescension, of pious austerity, or of stern command. His dark +hair and reddish beard were carefully trimmed; so were the nails of +his shapely, delicate hands. His voice, now subject to huskiness, +had until a few years ago been remarkably powerful and melodious; no +deacon in Rome was wont to excite more admiration by his chanting of +the Gradual; but that glory had passed away, and at the present time +Leander's spiritual activity was less prominent than his services as +a most capable steward of the patrimony of St. Peter. He travelled +much, had an extensive correspondence, and was probably rather +respected than reverenced by most lay folk with whom he came in +contact. + +But in the eyes of the lady Petronilla, Leander was an ideal +churchman. No one treated her judgment with so much respect; no one +confided to her curious ear so many confidential matters, ranging +from the secret scandals of aristocratic Rome to high debates of +ecclesiastical polity--or what Petronilla regarded as such. Their +closer acquaintance began with the lady's presentation of certain +columns of tawny Numidian marble, from a ruined temple she had +inherited, to the deacon's basilica, St. Laurentius; and many were +the donations which Leander had since accepted from her on behalf of +the Church. In return, he had once or twice rejoiced her with the +gift of a precious relic, such as came into the hands of few below +royal rank; thus had Petronilla obtained the filings of the chain of +St. Peter, which, enclosed in a golden key, hung upon her bosom. +Some day, as the deacon well knew, this pious virgin would beg him +to relieve her of all her earthly possessions, and enter into some +holy retreat; but she awaited the death of her brother, by whose +will she would doubtless benefit more or less substantially. + +If in view of the illness of Maximus, Petronilla had regarded the +deacon's visit as providential, the event of yesterday moved her to +a more agitated thankfulness for the conference she was about to +enjoy. After a night made sleepless by dread and wrath, she rose at +daybreak and passed in a fever of impatience the time which elapsed +before her reverend guest issued from his chamber. This being the +fourth day of the week, Petronilla held rigid fast until the hour of +nones; and of course no refreshment was offered to the churchman, +who, with that smiling placidity, that graceful self-possession, +which ever distinguished him in such society, at length entered the +inner hall, and suavely, almost tenderly, greeted his noble hostess. +Brimming over as she was with anxiety and indignation, Petronilla +allowed nothing of this to appear in her reception of the revered +friend. To his inquiries touching the health of the Senator, she +replied with significant gravity that Maximus had suffered during +the night, and was this morning, by the physician's report, much +weaker; she added not a word on the momentous subject presently to +be broached. Then Leander, after viewing with many compliments a +piece of rich embroidery which occupied the lady's leisure, and or +its completion would of course be put at his disposal, took a seat, +set the tips of his fingers together, and began to chat pleasantly +of his journey. Many were the pious offerings which had fallen to +him upon his way: that of the Sicilian lady who gave her little all +to be used to maintain the lamps in the basilica of the Chief +Apostle; that of the merchant encountered on shipboard, who gave ten +pounds of gold to purchase the freedom of slaves; that of the +wealthy curial in Lucania, healed of disease by miracle on the feast +of St. Cyprian, who bestowed upon the church in gratitude many acres +of olive-bearing land, and promised an annual shipload of prime hogs +to feed St. Peter's poor. By smooth transition he passed to higher +themes: with absent eyes turned to the laurel-planted court on to +which the hall opened, he spoke as if scarcely aware of a listener, +of troubles at Rome occasioned by imprudences, indiscretions--what +should he say--of the Holy Father. As Petronilla bent forward, all +tremulous curiosity, he lowered his voice, grew frankly +confidential. The Pope had been summoned to Byzantium, to discuss +certain points of doctrine with the Emperor; his departure was +delayed, but no doubt in his weakness he would obey. Verily, the +lack of courage--not to use severer terms--so painfully evident +in Pope Vigilius, was a grave menace to the Church--the Catholic +Church, which, rightly claiming to rule Christendom, should hold no +terms with the arrogance of Justinian. Could it be wondered that the +Holy Father was disliked--not to say hated--by the people of +Rome? By his ill management the papal granaries had of late been so +ill stored that the poor had suffered famine, the Greeks having put +an end to that gratuitous distribution of food to which the Roman +populace had from of old been accustomed. On this account, chiefly, +had Leander journeyed to Sicily, to look after the supplies of corn, +and seek out those who were to blame for the recent negligence. His +bushy eyebrows gave a hint of their sterner possibilities as he +spoke of the measures he had taken, the reproofs and threats he had +distributed. + +'May I live,' breathed Petronilla, with modest emphasis, 'to see a +great, a noble, a puissant Pontiff in the Apostolic Chair!' + +Whereat the deacon smiled, well understanding whither the lady +looked for her ideal Pope. She went on to speak of the part Vigilius +had played in the deposition and miserable death of his predecessor +Silverius, and that, as was too well known, at the bidding of +haughty, unscrupulous women, the Empress Theodora and her friend +Antonina, wife of Belisarius. Verily, the time had come for a great +reform at the Lateran; the time had come, and perhaps the divine +instrument was not far to seek. Whereupon Petronilla murmured +ardently, and the deacon again smiled. + +There was a pause. Having permitted Leander to muse a little, his +hostess turned the conversation to the troublous topic of her +thoughts; and began by saying how her brother would esteem the +privilege of counsel and solace from one so qualified to impart +them. But alas she must make known a distressful occurrence, whereby +the office of a spiritual adviser by the bedside of Maximus must +needs be complicated and made painful; and therewith Petronilla +related the events of yesterday. As he listened, the deacon knitted +his brows, but in thought rather than in affliction; and when the +speaker was silent, he still mused awhile. + +'Gracious madam,' he began at length solemnly, 'you of course hold +no intercourse with this lady?' + +'None! I have shrunk ever from the sight of her.' + +'Such abhorrence of error witnesses to the purity and the +illumination of your soul: I could have expected nothing less from +Petronilla. You know not whether the misguided woman shows any +disposition to return to the true faith?' + +'I fear not,' replied Petronilla, looking rather as if the fear were +a hope. 'Her nature is stubborn: she has the pride of the fallen +angels.' + +'And her father, I am afraid, has no longer the strength to treat +her sin with due severity?' + +'Earthly affection has subdued him,' replied the lady, shaking her +head. 'Who knows,' she added, 'how far his weakness may lead my poor +brother?' + +She glanced about the hall, and Leander perfectly understood what +was in her mind. + +'Be not over anxious,' he replied soothingly. 'Leave this in my +hands. Should it be necessary, I can dispose of some days before +pursuing my journey. Take comfort, noble and pious lady! The truth +will prevail.' + +The deacon's first step was to obtain a private interview with the +physician. He then made known his desire to wait upon Maximus, and +with no great delay was admitted. Tactfully, sagaciously, he drew +the sufferer to confide in him, to see in him, not so much a +spiritual admonisher as a counsellor and a support in worldly +difficulties. Leander was already well aware that the Senator had +small religious zeal, but belonged to the class of men, numerous at +this time, who, whilst professing the Christian and the orthodox +faith, were in truth philosophers rather than devotees, and regarded +dogmatic questions with a calm not easily distinguished from +indifference. Maximus had scarcely spoken of his daughter, when the +deacon understood it was Aurelia's temporal, much more than her +eternal, interests which disturbed the peace of the dying man. Under +Roman law, bequests to a heretic were null and void; though this +enactment had for the most part been set aside in Italy under Gothic +rule, it might be that the Imperial code would henceforth prevail. +Maximus desired to bestow upon his daughter a great part of his +possessions. Petronilla, having sufficient means of her own, might +well be content with a moderate bequest; Basil, the relative next of +kin, had a worthy claim upon his uncle's generous treatment, and +Decius, who needed but little, must have that little assured. The +father had hoped that his entreaties, together with a prospect of +substantial reward, would prevail against Aurelia's pride-rooted +heresy, but as yet he pleaded and tempted in vain. Could the deacon +help him? + +Leander seemed to meditate profoundly. The subject of his thought +was what seemed to him a glaring omission in this testament of +Maximus. He breathed an intimate inquiry: Was the sick man at peace +with his own soul? Had he sought strength and solace from the +reverend presbyter of Surrentum, his spiritual father in this +district? Maximus replied that he had neglected no ordinary means of +grace. Whilst speaking, he met the deacon's eye; its significance +was not to be mistaken. + +'I should have mentioned,' he said, averting his look, 'that the +presbyter Andreas and his poor will not be forgotten. Moreover, many +of my slaves will receive their freedom.' + +Leander murmured approvingly. Again he reflected, and again he +ventured an inquiry: Maximus would desire, no doubt, to rest with +his glorious ancestors in the mortuary chapel known as the Temple of +Probus, by St. Peter's? And seeing the emotion this excited in his +listener he went on to speak at large of the Anician house--first +among the great families of Rome to embrace Christianity, and +distinguished, generation after generation, by their support of the +church, which indeed numbered among its Supreme Pontiffs one of +their line, the third Felix. Did not the illustrious father of +Maximus lead the Christian senators in their attack upon that +lingering shame, the heathen Lupercalia, since so happily supplanted +by the Feast of the Purification of the Blessed Mary? He, dying-- +added Leander, with an ecstatic smile--made over to the Apostolic +See an estate in Sicily which yielded every year two rich harvests +to the widows, the orphans, the sick, and the destitute of Rome. + +'Deacon,' broke from the hot lips of Maximus, who struggled to raise +himself, 'if I do the like, will you swear to me to use your +influence, your power, for the protection of my daughter?' + +It was the voice of nature in its struggle with the universal doom; +reason had little part in the hope with which those fading eyes +fixed themselves upon the countenance of the self-possessed +churchman. + +'Heaven forbid,' was Leander's reply, 'that I should bind myself in +such terms to perform an office of friendship, which under any +circumstances would be my anxious care.' + +'Even,' asked Maximus, 'if she persist in her heresy?' + +'Even so, my dear lord, remembering from whom she springs. But,' he +added, in a soothing voice, 'let me put your mind at rest. Trust me, +the lady Aurelia will not long cling to her error. In poverty, in +humiliation, she might be obstinate; but as the possessor of +wealth--restored to her due rank--oh, my gracious lord, be assured +that her conversion will soon follow.' + +The same thought had occurred to Maximus. He sighed in profound +relief, and regarded the deacon gratefully. + +'In that hope I rest. Give me your promise to befriend her, and ask +of me what you will.' + +Save for the hours she passed at her father's side, Aurelia kept a +strict retirement, guarded by the three female slaves whom +Petronilla had reluctantly assigned to her. Of them she required no +intimate service, having her own attendants, an elderly woman, the +nurse of her childhood, who through all changes of fortune had never +quitted her, and a younger, half-Goth, half-Italian, who discharged +humbler duties. She occupied a small dwelling apart from the main +structure of the villa, but connected with it by a portico: this was +called the House of Proba, it having been constructed a hundred +years ago for the lady Faltonia Proba, who wrote verses, and perhaps +on that account desired a special privacy. Though much neglected, +the building had beauty of form, and was full of fine work in +mosaic. Here, in a little peristyle, where shrubs and creepers had +come to wild growth, the sore-hearted lady sat brooding or paced +backwards and forwards, her eyes ever on the ground. When yet a +maiden she had several times spent summer at Surrentum; her memory +revived that early day which seemed so long ago; she lived again +with her brothers and sisters, all dead, with her mother whom griefs +had aged so soon. Then came a loveless marriage, which soon involved +her in the public troubles of the time; for her husband, whose +estates lay in Tuscany, was robbed of all by Theodahad, and having +vainly sought redress from the young King Athalaric, decided to +leave Italy for Byzantium, to which end Aurelia sold a property in +Campania, her dower. Before they could set forth upon their journey, +her husband caught the plague and died. In second wedlock she would +have known contentment but for the alienation of her kin and the +scornful hostility of all her class. When widowhood again befell her +she was saved from want by a small treasure of money which remained +hidden in the dwelling at Cumae when the Gothic warrior, her lord, +escaped from Belisarius. As this store diminished, Aurelia had +looked forward with dread, for she hoped nothing from her father. +And now that such fears seemed to be over, her long tortured pride +clamoured for solace. It was not enough to regain her father's love +and enjoy an inheritance; she wished to see her enemies at her feet, +and to trample upon them--her enemies being not only Petronilla +and certain other kinsfolk but all the nobility of Rome, nay, all +the orthodox of the Christian church. Pacing, pacing alone, she +brooded vast schemes of vengeance. + +When it was announced to her that the Roman deacon besought an +interview, she at first refused to receive him. Thereupon Leander +sent her a few lines in writing, most ceremoniously worded, in which +he declared that his purposes were those of a disinterested friend, +that no word such as could pain or offend her would pass his lips, +and that he had it in his power to communicate something which would +greatly benefit her. Aurelia reflected disdainfully, but at length +consented to the churchman's approach. Leander's bearing as he +entered her presence was as elaborately courteous as the phrasing of +his letter. + +'Noble lady,' he began, standing with bowed head, 'let not your eyes +take note of my garb. See in me only a devoted servant of your +illustrious house. His Magnificence, your father, assured of the +sincerity wherewith I place at his command such powers and +opportunities as I owe to heaven's grace, has deigned to confide in +me regarding the disposition of his worldly affairs whereto he is +prompted by languishing health.' + +He paused a moment, but Aurelia had no word of reply to this +exordium. Seeing her keep the same haughty posture in her chair, +with eyes scornfully averted as if she scarce listened, Leander +proceeded to disclose his mind in less ornate terms By subtle grades +of confidential speech, beginning with a declaration of the sympathy +moved in him by the parent's love, the daughter's distress, he came +with lowering voice, with insinuating tone, with blandly tolerant +countenance, to the kernel of his discourse; it contained a +suggestion which might--he only said _might_--aid her amid the +manifold perplexities of her position. By this time Aurelia was more +attentive; the churchman almost affectionate in his suavity, grew +still more direct; and at length, in a voice which only reached the +ear of the listener, he spoke thus: + +'I understand why you stepped aside from the way of truth; I +perceive the obstacles hindering your return. I know the tender +impulses which urge you to soothe your father's last hours, and, no +less, the motives, natural to a woman of your beauty, of your birth, +which are at strife with that tenderness and threaten to overcome +it. Could you discover a means of yielding to your filial affection, +and at the same time safeguarding your noble pride, would you not +gladly use it? Such a means I can point out to you.' + +He became silent, watching Aurelia. She, won by the perspicacity +which read her heart, had put aside all arrogance, and wore a look +of grave intentness. + +'Let me know it,' she murmured. + +'It is this. Return to the true belief, but guard awhile the secret +of your conversion. That it shall not be disclosed until you wish, I +can give you firm assurance--if need be, on solemn oath. You will +privately make known to your father that he has prevailed, thereby +you put his flesh and spirit at rest,--he will die blessing you, +and enriching you to the full extent of his desire. You will then +also set your signature to a paper, which I shall write, making +confession of the orthodox faith, and undertaking to be duly +reconciled with the church, by the imposition of hands, at some +convenient season. That is all that will be asked of you for the +present. The lady Petronilla'--he all but smiled in uttering the +name--'shall not even suspect what has happened.' + +'Will this villa be mine?' asked the listener after brief +reflection. + +'This villa shall be yours.' + +An exultant gleam shone in Aurelia's eyes. + +'Deacon,' she said sternly, 'your promise is not enough. Swear to me +that no one living, save my father and you, shall know.' + +From his bosom Leander drew forth a little golden cross. + +'This,' he said reverently, 'contains dust of iron from the bars on +which the blessed Laurentius suffered martyrdom.' + +'Swear also,' demanded Aurelia, 'by the Holy Pancratius.' In the +name of both saints Leander took his oath of secrecy. Petronilla was +of course aware that the deacon had been admitted to audience by her +niece. When he descended, she awaited him at the end of the portico, +and her look questioned him. + +'Stubborn, stubborn!' murmured Leander, shaking his head, and passed +on as though in troubled thought. + +Later in the day, when she had seen her father, Aurelia made known +to her cousin Basil, who had requested an interview, that he might +come. His cousin received him smilingly, almost affectionately. + +Marcian having this morning taken his leave, called away by some +unexplained business to Neapolis, Basil had been on the point of +taking Decius into his amorous confidence, when this summons +rejoiced him. + +'Is the letter written?' were Basil's first words. + +'It is here. Can you despatch it at once?' + +'I will take it myself,' he answered promptly. + +Aurelia shook her head. + +'You must not. My father's life is fast failing. No one can say +which hour may be his last. If he asked for you, and you were absent--' + +'Felix shall go,' said Basil. 'The wind is favourable. He may have +to ride back to-morrow, but we can trust him to make all speed.' + +'He took the letter, which was superscribed, 'To the most noble lady +Veranilda.' + +'Dear cousin, you have spoken of me?' he asked with a wistful look. + +'I have said, good cousin,' Aurelia answered pleasantly, 'that you +wished to be spoken of.' + +'Only that?' + +'What more should I say? Your Amiability is too hasty. Remember that +you have scarce seen her.' + +'Scarce seen Veranilda!' exclaimed Basil. 'Why, it seems to me as +though I had known her for years! Have we not talked together?' + +'Once. The first time does not count; you exchanged hardly a dozen +words. When,' added Aurelia, smiling, 'were you so dashed in a +maid's presence?' + +'Nay, never! I am not accused of too much modesty; but when I +entered and looked on Veranilda--oh, it was the strangest moment +of my life! Noble cousin,' he added pleadingly, 'honoured Aurelia, +do but tell me what is her parentage?' + +'How does that concern your Excellence? I have told you all that it +imports you to know--at all events for the present. Cousin Basil, +you delay the letter; I should wish her to have it before nightfall, +for she thinks anxiously of me.' + +'I go. When may I again speak with you?' + +'You shall hear when I am at leisure.' + +Basil despatched his servant to Cumae not with one letter only, but +with two. Greatly daring, he had himself written to Veranilda; in +brief terms, but every word tremulous with his passion. And for half +an hour he stood watching the sail which wafted his messenger over +the gulf, ruffled to-day by a south-west wind, driver of clouds. +Little thought had he to give to the dying Maximus, but at the ninth +hour he turned his steps to the oratory, once a temple of Isis, and +heard the office, and breathed a prayer for his kindly relative. +Which duty discharged, he prayed more fervently, to whatever saint +or deity has ear for such petitions, that he might be loved by the +Gothic maid. + +This evening Maximus seemed to suffer less. He lay with closed eyes, +a look of calm on his worn countenance. Beside him sat Decius, +reading in low tones from that treatise on the Consolation of +Philosophy, which Boethius wrote in prison, a hook wherein Maximus +sought comfort, this last year or two more often than in the +Evangel, or the Lives of Saints. Decius himself would have chosen a +philosopher of older time, but in the words of his own kinsman, +Maximus found an appeal more intimate, a closer sympathy, than in +ancient teaching. He loved especially the passages of verse; and +when the reader came to those lines-- + +'O felix hominum genus, +Si vestros animos amor +Quo coelum regitur, regat,' + +he raised his hand, smiling with peculiar sweetness. + +'Pause there, O Decius,' he said, in a weak but clear voice; 'let me +muse awhile.' And he murmured the verses to himself. + + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +TO CUMAE + + + + +The Bishop of Surrentum, an elderly man and infirm, had for the past +fortnight been unable to leave his house, but day by day he received +news of what passed at the villa of Maximus, and held with the +presbyter, Andreas, many colloquies on that weighty topic, the +senator's testament. As it happened, neither bishop nor presbyter +had much aptitude for worldly affairs; they were honest, +simple-minded clerics, occupied with visions and marvels and the +saving details of dogma; exultant whenever a piece of good fortune +befell their church, but modest in urging a claim at the bedside of +the sick. Being the son of a freedman who had served in the Anician +house, the bishop could not approach Maximus without excessive +reverence; before Petronilla he was even more unduly awed. + +On Sunday morning the good prelate lay wakeful at the hour of +matins, and with quavering voice chanted to himself the psalm of the +office from which his weakness held him apart. Presently the door +opened, and in the dim lamp-light appeared the presbyter Andreas, +stepping softly. He made known that an urgent message had just +summoned him to the villa; Maximus was near his end. + +'I, too, will come,' exclaimed the bishop, rising in his bed and +ringing loudly a little hand-bell. + +'Venerable father! your health--' + +'Hasten, hasten, Andreas! I follow.' + +In less than an hour he descended from his litter, and, resting on +the arms of two servants, was conducted to the chamber of the dying +man. Andreas had just administered the last rites; whether the fixed +eyes still saw was doubtful. At a murmur of 'the bishop' those by +the doorway reverently drew aside. On one side of the bed were +Aurelia and the deacon; on the other, Petronilla and Basil and +Decius. Though kneeling, the senator's daughter held herself +proudly. Though tears were on her face, she hardly disguised an air +of triumph. Nor was the head of Petronilla bent; her countenance +looked hard and cold as marble. Leander, a model of decorum, stepped +with grave greeting towards the prelate, and whispered a word or +two. In the stillness that followed there quivered a deep breath. +Flavius Anicius Maximus had lived his life. + +When the bishop, supported by Leander and Andreas, rose from prayer, +he was led by the obsequious clerics to a hall illumined by several +lamps, where two brasiers gave forth a grateful glow in the chill of +the autumn morning. Round about the walls, in niches, stood busts +carved or cast of the ancestors of him who lay dead. Here, whilst +voices of lamentation sounded from without, Leander made known to +the prelate and the presbyter the terms of the will. Basil was +instituted 'heir'; that is to say, he became the legal +representative of the dead man, and was charged with the +distribution of those parts of the estate bequeathed to others. +First of the legatees stood Aurelia. The listeners learnt with +astonishment that the obstinate heretic was treated as though her +father had had no cause of complaint against her; she was now +mistress of the Surrentine estate, as well as of the great house in +Rome, and of other property. A lamentable thing, the deacon admitted +suavely; but, for his part, he was not without hope, and he fixed +his eyes with a peculiar intensity on the troubled bishop. + +Petronilla drew near. The will was already known to her in every +detail, and she harboured a keen suspicion of the secret which lay +behind it. Leander, she could not doubt, was behaving to her with +duplicity, and this grieved her to the heart. It was to the bishop +that she now addressed herself. + +'Holy father, I am your suppliant. Not even for a day will I remain +under this roof, even if--which is doubtful--I should be +suffered to do so. I put myself under the protection of your +Holiness, until such time as I can set forth on my sad journey to +Rome. At Surrentum I must abide until the corpse of my brother can +be conveyed to its final resting place--as I promised him.' + +Much agitated, the prelate made answer that a fitting residence +should be prepared for her before noon, and the presbyter Andreas +added that he would instantly betake himself to the city on that +business. Petronilla thanked him with the loftiest humility. For any +lack of respect, or for common courtesy, to which they might be +exposed ere they quitted the villa, she besought their Sanctities +not to hold her responsible, she herself being now an unwilling +intruder at this hearth, and liable at any moment to insult. +Uttering which words in a resonant voice, she turned her eyes to +where, a few yards away, stood Aurelia, with Basil and Decius behind +her. + +'Reverend bishop,' spoke a voice not less steady and sonorous than +that of the elder lady, 'should you suffer any discourtesy in my +house, it will come not from me, but from her who suggests its +possibility, and whose mind is bent upon such things. Indeed, she +has already scanted the respect she owes you in uttering these +words. As for herself, remain she here for an hour or for a month, +she is in no danger of insult--unless she deem it an insult to +have her base falsehood flung back at her, and the enmity in her +fierce eyes answered with the scorn it merits.' + +Petronilla trembled with wrath. + +'Falsehood!' she echoed, on a high, mocking note. 'A charge of +falsehood upon _her_ lips! Your Holiness will ere long, I do not +doubt, be enlightened as to that woman's principles in the matter of +truth and falsehood. Meanwhile, we shall consult our souls' welfare, +as well as our dignity, in holding as little intercourse as may be +with one who has renounced the faith in Christ.' + +Aurelia bent her eyes upon the deacon, who met the look with austere +fixedness. There was dead silence for a moment, then she turned to +the young men behind her. + +'My noble cousins, I desired your company because I foresaw this +woman's violence, and knew not to what length it might carry her. +She pretends to fear my tongue; for my part, I would not lightly +trust myself within reach of her hands, of which I learnt the weight +when I was a little child. Lord Decius, attend, I beg you, these +reverend men whilst they honour my house and on their way homeward. +My cousin Basil, I must needs ask you to be my guard, until I can +command service here. Follow me, I pray.' + +With another piercing glance at Leander she withdrew from the +assembly. + +It was a morning of wind and cloud; the day broke sadly. When the +first gleam of yellow sunlight flitted over Surrentum towards the +cliffs of Capreae, silence had fallen upon the villa. Wearied by +their night of watching, the inhabitants slept, or at least reposed +in privacy. But this quiet was of short duration. When the customary +bell had given notice of the third hour, Aurelia called together the +servants of the house--only those who belonged to Petronilla +failing to answer her summons--and announced to them her new +authority. At the same time the steward of the estate read out a +list of those slaves who, under the will of Maximus, could claim +their emancipation. The gathering having dispersed, there appeared +an attendant of the deacon Leander; his reverend master would wait +upon the lady Aurelia, as soon as her leisure permitted, for the +purpose of taking leave. Forthwith the deacon was admitted. Alone in +the great hall, Aurelia sat beside a brasier, at which she warmed +her hands; she scarcely deigned to glance at the ecclesiastic. + +'You pursue your journey, reverend?' were her first words. + +'As far as Neapolis, gracious lady,' came the suave reply. 'There or +in the neighbourhood I shall remain at least ten days. Should you +desire to communicate with me--' + +'I think I can save that trouble,' interrupted Aurelia, with +quivering lips. 'All I have to say to your Sanctity, I will say at +once. It is, that you have enlightened me as to the value of solemn +oaths on the lips of the Roman clergy.' + +'Your meaning, dear madam?' asked Leander, with a look of bland +disdain. + +'You have the face to ask it, deacon, after Petronilla's words this +morning?' + +'I feared they might mislead you. The lady Petronilla knows nothing +of what has passed between us. She spoke in anger, and hazarded an +accusation--as angry ladies are wont.' + +'Of course you say so,' returned Aurelia. 'I will believe you if you +give me back the paper I signed, and trust to my word for the +fulfilment of what I promised.' + +Leander smiled, almost as if he had heard some happy intelligence. + +'You ask,' he said, 'for a trust you yourself refuse.' + +'Then go your way, perjurer!' exclaimed Aurelia, her cheeks aflame +with passion. 'I know henceforth on whom to rely.' + +For a moment Leander stood as if reflecting on these last words; +then he bowed, and with placid dignity retired. + +Meanwhile Basil and Decius were conversing with Petronilla. Neither +of them had ever stood on terms of more than courteous forbearance +with this authoritative lady; at present they maintained their usual +demeanour, and did not think it needful to apologise for friendly +relations with Aurelia. The only subject on which Petronilla deigned +to hold colloquy with them was that of her brother's burial at Rome. +Should the transport be by land or by sea? This evening the corpse +would be conveyed to the cathedral of Surrentum, where due rites +would be performed early on the morrow; there it would remain in +temporary interment until a coffin of lead could be prepared, and +arrangements completed for the removal. Was the year too advanced, +questioned Petronilla, to allow of the sea voyage? On the other +hand, would the land journey be safe, having regard to the advance +of the Gothic army? Basil pronounced for the sea, and undertook to +seek for a vessel. Was he willing, asked Petronilla, to accompany +the body to Rome? This question gave Basil pause; he reflected +uneasily; he hesitated. Yet who could discharge this duty, if he did +not? Suddenly ashamed of his hesitation, the true reason of which +could not be avowed, he declared that he would make the voyage. + +Hereupon entered the deacon, who, the matter being put before him, +approved these arrangements. He himself would doubtless be in Rome +before the arrival of the remains of Maximus, and all the details of +the burial there might be left to him. So Petronilla thanked and +dismissed the young men, on whose retirement she turned eagerly to +Leander. + +'Forgive me!' broke from her lips. 'I know how deeply I have +offended your Sanctity. It was my fear that you would go away +without a word. My haste, my vehemence, merited even that +punishment.' + +'Calm yourself, noble lady,' returned the deacon. 'I was indeed +grieved, but I know your provocation. We may speak on this subject +again; but not here. For the present, I take my leave of you, all +being ready for my departure. As you are quitting this house at +once, you need no counsel as to immediate difficulties; I will only +say, in all things be prudent, be self-controlled; before long, you +may see reason for the discreet silence which I urge upon you.' + +'When do you set forth to Rome?' asked Petronilla. 'If it might be +my privilege to journey in your company--?' + +'The day is uncertain,' replied Leander; 'but if it be possible for +us to travel together, trust me to beg for the honour. You shall +hear of my projects in a week's time from Neapolis.' + +Petronilla fell to her knees, and again besought his forgiveness +with his benediction. The deacon magnanimously granted both, and +whilst bending over the devout lady, whispered one word: + +'Patience!' + +An hour after mid-day, Petronilla quitted the villa. Her great +travelling chariot, drawn by four mules, wherein she and her most +precious possessions were conveyed, descended at a stately pace the +winding road to Surrentum. Before it rode Basil; behind came a laden +wagon, two light vehicles carrying female slaves, and mounted +men-servants, armed as though for a long and perilous journey. Since +the encounter before sunrise, there had been no meeting between the +hostile ladies. Aurelia signified her scorn by paying no heed to her +aunt's departure. + +Alone in her dominion, the inheritress entered the death-chamber, +and there passed an hour upon her knees. Whilst she was thus +secluded, a pealing storm traversed the sky. When Aurelia came forth +again, her face was wan, tearstained. She summoned her nurse, and +held much talk with her as to the significance of thunder whilst a +corpse lay in the house. The good woman, though she durst not utter +all her thoughts, babbled concern, and used the occasion to beseech +Aurelia--as she had often done since the death of her Gothic lord--to +be reconciled with the true church. + +'True church!' exclaimed Aurelia, with sudden passion. 'How do you +know which is the true church? Have not emperors, have not bishops +and numberless holy men lived and died in the faith I confess--?' + +She checked herself; grew silent, brooded. Meanwhile, the old nurse +talked on, and presently began to relate how a handmaid of +Petronilla, in going with her this morning, professed to know on the +surest evidence that Aurelia, by her father's deathbed, had +renounced Arianism. The sullen countenance of her mistress flashed +again into wrath. + +'Did I not forbid you,' cried Aurelia, 'to converse with those +women? And you dare repeat to me their loose-lipped chatter. I am +too familiar with you; go and talk with your kind; go!' + +Mutteringly the woman went apart. The mistress, alone, fell into a +long weeping. When she had sobbed herself into quiet once more, she +sought a volume of the Gospels, inserted her forefinger between the +pages at random, and anxiously regarded the passage thus chosen. + +'While ye have the light, believe in the light, that ye may be the +children of light.' + +She brooded, but in the end seemed to find solace. + +Basil was absent all day. On his return, just before sunset, Aurelia +met him in the atrium, heard the report of what he had done, and at +length asked whether, on the day after to-morrow, he could go to +Cumae. + +'To Cumae?' exclaimed Basil. 'Ay, that I can! You are returning +thither?' + +'For a day only. I go to seek that which no one but myself can +find.' + +The listener had no difficulty in understanding this; it meant, of +course, treasure concealed in the house Aurelia had long inhabited. + +'We must both go and return by sea,' said Aurelia, 'even though it +cause us delay. I have no mind to pass through Neapolis.' + +'Be it so. The sky will be calm when this storm has passed Shall you +return,' said Basil, 'alone?' + +'Alone? Do you purpose to forsake me?' + +'Think better of my manners, cousin--and more shrewdly of my +meaning.' + +'You mean fairly, I trust?' she returned, looking him steadily in +the face. + +'Nay,' cried the young man vehemently, 'if I have any thought other +than honest, may I perish before I ever again behold her!' + +Aurelia's gaze softened. + +'It is well,' she said; 'we will speak again to-morrow.' + +That night Petronilla kept vigil in the church of Surrentum, Basil +and Decius relieving her an hour before dawn. At the funeral +service, which began soon after sunrise, the greater part of the +townsfolk attended. All were eager to see whether the daughter of +Maximus would be present, for many rumours were rife touching +Aurelia, some declaring that she had returned to the true faith, +some that she remained obstinate in heresy. Her failure to appear +did not set the debate at rest. A servant of Petronilla whispered it +about that only by a false pretence of conversion had Aurelia made +sure her inheritance; and at the mere thought of such wickedness the +hearers shuddered, foretelling a dread retribution. The clergy were +mute on the subject, even with the most favoured of their flock. +Meanwhile the piety and austerity of Petronilla made a safe topic of +talk, and a long procession reverently escorted her to her temporary +abode near the bishop's house. + +To-day the clouds spent themselves in rain; before nightfall the +heavens began to clear. The island peak of Inarime stood purple +against a crimson sunset. After supper, Aurelia and Basil held +conference. The wind would not be favourable for their voyage; none +the less, they decided to start at the earliest possible hour. Dawn +was but just streaking the sky, when they rode down the dark gorge +which led to the shore, Basil attended by Felix, the lady by one +maid. The bark awaited them, swaying gently against the +harbour-side. Aurelia descended to the little cabin curtained off +below a half-deck, and--sails as yet being useless--four great +oars urged the craft on its way. + +What little wind there was breathed from the north For an hour they +made but slow progress, but when the first rays of sun gleamed above +the mountains, the breeze shifted westward; sails were presently +hoisted, and the rippling water hissed before the prow. Soon a +golden day shone upon sea and land. Aurelia came forth on to the +deck, and sat gazing towards Neapolis. + +'You know that the deacon is yonder,' she said in a low voice to +Basil, this the first mention of Leander that had fallen from her +lips in speaking with him. + +'Is he?' returned the other carelessly. 'Yes, I remember.' + +But Basil's eyes were turned to the long promontory of Misenum. He +was wondering anxiously how his letter had affected Veranilda, and +whether, when she heard of it, Aurelia would be angered. + +'Where is your friend Marcian?' were her next words. + +Basil replied that he, too, was sojourning at Neapolis; and, when +Aurelia inquired what business held him there, her cousin answered +truly that he did not know. + +'Do you trust him?' asked the lady, after a thoughtful pause. + +'Marcian? As I trust myself!' + +One of the boatmen coming within earshot, their conversation ceased. + +The hour before noon saw them drawing near to land. They left on the +right the little island of Nesis, and drew towards Puteoli. On the +left lay Baiae, all but forsaken, its ancient temples and villas +stretching along the shore from the Lucrine lake to the harbour +shadowed by Cape Misenum; desolate magnificence, marble overgrown +with ivy, gardens where the rose grew wild, and terraces crumbling +into the sea. Basil and Aurelia looked upon these things with an eye +made careless by familiarity; all their lives ruin had lain about +them, deserted sanctuaries of a bygone creed, unpeopled homes of a +vanished greatness. + +As the boat advanced into the bay, it lost the wind, and rowing +again became needful. Thus they entered the harbour of Puteoli, +where the travellers disembarked. + +Hard by the port was a tavern, which, owing to its position midway +between Neapolis and Cumae, still retained something of its +character as a _mansio_ of the posting service; but the vehicles and +quadrupeds of which it boasted were no longer held in strict reserve +for state officials and persons privileged. Gladly the innkeeper put +at Basil's disposal his one covered carriage, a trifle cleaner +inside than it was without, and a couple of saddle horses, declared +to be Sicilian, but advanced in age. Thus, with slight delay, the +party pursued their journey, Basil and his man riding before the +carriage. The road ran coastwise as far as the Julian haven, once +thronged with the shipping of the Roman world, now all but abandoned +to a few fishermen; there it turned inland, skirted the Lucrine +water, and presently reached the shore of Lake Avernus, where was +the entrance to the long tunnel piercing the hill between the lake +and Cumae. On an ill-kept way, under a low vault of rock dripping +moisture, the carriage with difficulty tossed and rumbled through +the gloom. Basil impatiently trotted on, and, as he issued into +sunlight, there before him stood the walls of the ancient city, +round about that little hill by the sea which, in an age remote, had +been chosen for their abode by the first Hellenes tempted to the +land of Italy. High above rose the acropolis, a frowning stronghold. +Through Basil's mind passed the thought that ere long Cumae might +again belong to the Goths, and this caused him no uneasiness; half, +perchance, he hoped it. + +A guard at the city gate inspected the carriage, and let it pass on. +In a few minutes, guided by Basil, it drew up before a house in a +narrow, climbing street, a small house, brick fronted, with stucco +pilasters painted red at the door, and two windows, closed with +wooden shutters, in the upper storey. On one side of the entrance +stood a shop for the sale of earthenware; on the other, a vintner's +with a projecting marble table, the jars of wine thereon exhibited +being attached by chains to rings in the wall. Odours of cookery, +and of worse things, oppressed the air, and down the street ran a +noisome gutter. When Basil's servant had knocked, a little wicket +slipped aside for observation; then, after a grinding of heavy locks +and bars, the double doors were opened, and a grey-headed slave +stepped forward to receive his mistress. Basil had jumped down from +his horse, and would fain have entered, but, by an arrangement +already made, this was forbidden. Saying that she would expect him +at the second hour on the morrow, Aurelia disappeared. Her cousin +after a longing look at the blind and mute house, rode away to +another quarter of the city, near the harbour, where was an inn at +which he had lodged during his previous visit. In a poor and dirty +room, he made shift to dine on such food as could be offered him; +then lay down on the truckle bed, and slept for an hour or two. + +A knock at the door awoke him. It was Felix, who brought the news +that Marcian was at Cumae. + +'You have seen him?' cried Basil, astonished and eager. + +'His servant Sagaris,' Felix replied. 'I met him but now in the +forum, and learnt that his lord lodges at the house of the curial +Venustus; hard by the Temple of Diana.' + +'Go thither at once, and beg him, if his leisure serve, to come to +me. I would go myself; but, if he have seen Sagaris, he may be +already on the way here.' + +And so it proved, for in a very few minutes Marcian himself entered +the room. + +'Your uncle is dead,' were his first words. 'I heard it in Neapolis +yesterday. What brings you here?' + +'Nay, best Marcian,' returned the other, with hands on his friend's +shoulders, and peering him in the face, 'let me once again put that +question to _you_.' + +'I cannot answer it, yet,' said Marcian gravely. 'Your business is +more easily guessed.' + +'But must not be talked of here,' interrupted Basil, glancing at the +door. 'Let us find some more suitable place.' + +They descended the dark, foul stairs, and went out together. Before +the house stood the two serving-men, who, as their masters walked +away, followed at a respectful distance. When safe from being +overheard, Basil recounted to his friend the course of events at the +Surrentine villa since Marcian's departure, made known his suspicion +that Aurelia had secretly returned to the Catholic faith. He then +told of to day's journey and its purpose, his hearer wearing a look +of grave attention. + +'Can it be,' asked Marcian, 'that you think of wedding this Gothic +beauty?' + +'Assuredly,' answered Basil, with a laugh, 'I have thought of it.' + +'And it looks as though Aurelia favoured your desire.' + +'It has indeed something of that appearance.' + +'Pray you now, dear lord,' said Marcian, 'be sober awhile. Have you +reflected that, with such a wife, you would not dare return to +Rome?' + +Basil had not regarded that aspect of the matter, but his friend's +reasoning soon brought him to perceive the danger he would lightly +have incurred. Dangers, not merely those that resulted from the war; +could he suppose, asked Marcian, that Heliodora would meekly endure +his disdain, and that the life of Veranilda would be safe in such a +rival's proximity? Hereat, Basil gnashed his teeth and handled his +dagger. Why return to Rome at all? he cried impatiently. He had no +mind to go through the torments of a long siege such as again +threatened. Why should he not live on in Campania-- + +'And tend your sheep or your goats?' interrupted Marcian, with his +familiar note of sad irony. 'And pipe _sub tegmine fagi_ to your +blue-eyed Amaryllis? Why not, indeed? But what if; on learning the +death of Maximus, the Thracian who rules yonder see fit to command +your instant return, and to exact from you an account of what you +have inherited? Bessas loses no time--suspecting--perhaps-- +that his tenure of a fruitful office may not be long.' + +'And if the suspicion be just?' said Basil, gazing hard at his +friend. + +'Well, if it be?' said the other, returning the look. + +'Should we not do well to hold far from Rome, looking to King +Totila, whom men praise, as a deliverer of our land from hateful +tyranny?' + +Marcian laid a hand on his friend's shoulder. + +'O, brave Basil!' he murmured, with a smile. 'O, nobly confident in +those you love! Never did man so merit love in return.--Do as you +will. In a few days I shall again visit you at Surrentum, and +perchance bring news that may give us matter for talk.' + +From a portico hard by there approached a beggar, a filthy and +hideous cripple, who, with whining prayer, besought alms. Marcian +from his wallet took a copper coin, and, having glanced at it, drew +Basil's attention. + +'Look,' said he, smiling oddly, 'at the image and the +superscription.' + +It was a coin of Vitiges, showing a helmeted bust of the goddess of +the city, with legend '_Invicta Roma_.' + +'_Invicta Roma_,' muttered Basil sadly, with head bent. + +Meanwhile, out of earshot of their masters, the two servants +conversed with not less intimacy. At a glance these men were seen to +be of different races. Felix, aged some five and thirty, could boast +of free birth; he was the son of a curial--that is to say, +municipal councillor--of Arpinum, who had been brought to ruin, +like so many of his class in this age, by fiscal burdens, the +curiales being responsible for the taxes payable by their +colleagues, as well as for the dues on any estate in their district +which might be abandoned, and, in brief, for whatsoever deficiencies +of local revenue. Gravity and sincerity appeared in his countenance; +he seldom smiled, spoke in a subdued voice, and often kept his eyes +on the ground; but his service was performed with rare +conscientiousness, and he had often given proof of affection for his +master. Sagaris, a Syrian slave, less than thirty years old, had a +comely visage which ever seemed to shine with contentment, and often +twinkled with a sort of roguish mirth. Tall and of graceful bearing, +the man's every movement betrayed personal vanity; his speech had +the note of facile obsequiousness; he talked whenever occasion +offered, and was fond of airing his views on political and other +high matters. Therewithal, he was the most superstitious of mortals; +wore amulets, phylacteries, charms of all sorts, and secretly prayed +to many strange gods. When he had nothing else to do, and could find +a genial companion, his delight was to play by the hour at _micare +digitis_; but, in spite of his master's good opinion, not to Sagaris +would have applied the proverb that you might play that game with +him in the dark. + +'Take my word for it,' he whispered to Felix, with his most +important air, 'we shall see strange things ere long. Last night I +counted seven shooting stars.' + +'What does that argue?' asked the other soberly. + +'More than I care to put into Latin. At Capua, three days ago, a +woman gave birth to a serpent, a winged dragon, which flew away +towards Rome. I talked at Neapolis with a man who saw it.' + +'Strange, indeed,' murmured Felix, with raised eyebrows. 'I have +often heard of such portents, but never had the luck to behold one +of them. Yet,' he added gravely, 'I have received a sign. When my +father died, I was far away from him, and at that very hour, as I +prayed in the church of Holy Clement at Rome, I heard a voice that +said in my ear, _Vale_! three times.' + +'Oh, I have had signs far more wonderful than that,' exclaimed the +Syrian. 'I was at sea, between Alexandria and Berytus--for you +must know that in my boyhood I passed three years at Berytus, and +there obtained that knowledge of law which you may have remarked in +talking with me--well, I was at sea--' + +'Peace!' interposed Felix. 'We are summoned.' + +Sagaris sighed, and became the obsequious attendant. + + + + + +CHAPTER V + +BASIL AND VERANILDA + + + + +At the appointed hour next morning, when yet no ray of sunshine had +touched the gloomy little street, though a limpid sky shone over it, +Basil stood at Aurelia's door. The grey-headed porter silently +admitted him, and he passed by a narrow corridor into a hall lighted +as usual from above, paved with red tiles, here and there trodden +away, the walls coloured a dusky yellow, and showing an imaginary +line of pillars painted in blue. A tripod table, a couch, and a few +chairs were the only furniture. When the visitor had waited for a +few moments a curtain concealing the entrance to the inner part of +the house moved aside, and Aurelia's voice bade her cousin come +forward. He entered a smaller room opening upon a diminutive court +where a few shrubs grew; around the walls hung old and faded +tapestry; the floor was of crude mosaic; the furniture resembled +that of the atrium, with the addition of a brasier. + +'I have been anxious for your coming,' were Aurelia's first words. +'Do you think they will let us depart without hindrance? Yesterday I +saw the owner of this house to transact my business with him. It is +Venustus, a curial, a man who has always been well disposed to me. +He said that he must perforce make known to the governor my +intention of leaving the city, and hoped no obstacle would be put in +our way. This morning, before sunrise, a messenger from the citadel +came and put questions to the porter.' + +Basil knitted his brows. + +'Venustus? It is with Venustus that Marcian lodges. Yes, Marcian is +here; I know not on what business. It would have been wiser,' he +added, 'to have said nothing, to have gone away as before. When +shall you be ready?' + +'I am ready now. Why delay? What matter though we reach Surrentum by +night? The moon rises early.' + +'What reply was given to the messenger from the citadel?' + +'He learned, perforce, that we were preparing for a journey.' + +A moment's reflection and Basil decided to risk immediate departure; +delay and uncertainty were at all times hateful to him, and at the +present juncture intolerable. At once he quitted the house (not +having ventured to speak the name of Veranilda), and in an hour's +time the covered carriage from Puteoli, and another vehicle, were in +waiting. The baggage was brought out; then, as Basil stood in the +hall, he saw Aurelia come forward, accompanied by a slight female +figure, whose grace could not be disguised by the long hooded cloak +which wrapped it from head to foot, allowing not a glimpse of face. +The young man trembled, and followed. He saw the ladies step into +the carriage, and was himself about to mount his horse, when a +military officer, attended by three soldiers, stepped towards him, +and, without phrase of courtesy, demanded his name. Pallid, shaken +with all manner of emotions, Basil replied to this and several other +inquiries, the result being that the two vehicles were ordered to be +driven to the citadel, and he to go thither under guard. + +At the entrance to the citadel the carriage drew up and remained +there under guard. Basil was led in, and presently stood before the +military governor of Cumae; this was a Hun named Chorsoman, formerly +one of Belisarius's bodyguard. He spoke Latin barbarously; none the +less was his language direct and perspicuous. The Roman lady wished +to quit Cumae, where she had lived for some years; she purposed, +moreover, to take away with her a maiden of Gothic race, who, though +not treated as a captive, had been under observation since she was +sent to dwell here by Belisarius. This could not pass as a matter of +small moment. Plainly, permission to depart must be sought of the +authorities, and such permission, under the circumstances, could +only be granted in return for substantial payment--a payment in +proportion t6 the lady's rank. It was known that the senator Maximus +had died, and report said that his daughter inherited great wealth. +The price of her passport would be one thousand gold pieces. + +Basil knew that Aurelia had not, in the coffer she was taking away, +a quarter of this sum of money. He foresaw endless delay, infinite +peril to his hopes. Schooling a hot tongue to submissive utterance, +he asked that Aurelia might be consulted. + +'Speak with her yourself,' said the Hun, 'and bring her answer.' + +So Basil went forth, and, under the eyes of the guard, held converse +with his cousin. Aurelia was willing to give all the treasure she +carried with her--money, a few ornaments of gold and silver, two +or three vessels of precious metal--everything for immediate +liberty; all together she thought it might be the equivalent of half +the sum demanded. The rest she would swear to pay. This being +reported to Chorsoman, his hideous, ashen-grey countenance assumed a +fierce expression; he commanded that all the baggage on the vehicles +should be brought and opened before him; this was done. Whilst +Basil, boiling with secret rage, saw his cousin's possessions turned +out on to the floor a thought flashed into his mind. + +'I ought to inform your Sublimity,' he said, with all the +indifference he could assume, 'that the lady Aurelia despatched two +days ago a courier to Rome apprising the noble commandant Bessas of +her father's death, and of her intention to arrive in the city as +soon as possible, and to put her means at his disposal for the +defence of Rome against King Totila.' + +Chorsoman stared. + +'Is not this lady the widow of a Goth and a heretic?' + +'The widow of a Goth, yes, but no longer a heretic,' answered Basil +boldly, half believing what he said. + +He saw that he had spoken to some purpose. The Hun blinked his +little eyes, gazed greedily at the money, and was about to speak +when a soldier announced that a Roman named Marcian desired +immediate audience, therewith handing to the governor a piece of +metal which looked like a large coin. Chorsoman had no sooner +glanced at this than he bade admit the Roman; but immediately +changing his mind, he went out into another room. On his return, +after a quarter of an hour, he gruffly announced that the travellers +were free to depart. + +'We humbly thank your Clemency,' said Basil, his heart leaping in +joy. 'Does your Greatness permit me to order these trifles to be +removed?' + +'Except the money,' replied Chorsoman, growling next moment, 'and +the vessels'; then snarling with a savage glance about him, 'and the +jewels.' + +Not till the gates of Cumae were behind them, and they had entered +the cavern in the hill, did Basil venture to recount what had +happened. He alighted from his horse, and walking through the gloom +beside the carriage he briefly narrated all in a whisper to +Aurelia--all except his own ingenious device for balking the Hun's +cupidity. What means Marcian had employed for their release he could +but vaguely conjecture; that would be learned a few days hence when +his friend came again to Surrentum. Aurelia's companion in the +carriage, still hooded and cloaked, neither moved nor uttered a +word. + +At a distance of some twenty yards from the end of the tunnel, +Felix, riding in advance, checked his horse and shouted. There on +the ground lay a dead man, a countryman, who it was easy to see had +been stabbed to death, and perhaps not more than an hour ago. +Quarrel or robbery, who could say? An incident not so uncommon as +greatly to perturb the travellers; they passed on and came to +Puteoli. Here the waiting boatmen were soon found; the party +embarked; the vessel oared away in a dead calm. + +The long voyage was tedious to Basil only because Veranilda remained +unseen in the cabin; the thought of bearing her off; as though she +were already his own, was an exultation, a rapture. When he +reflected on the indignities he had suffered in the citadel rage +burned his throat, and Aurelia, all bitterness at the loss of her +treasure, found words to increase this wrath. A Hun! A Scythian +savage! A descendant perchance of the fearful Attila! He to +represent the Roman Empire! Fit instrument, forsooth, of such an +Emperor as Justinian, whose boundless avarice, whose shameful +subjection to the base-born Theodora, were known to every one. To +this had Rome fallen; and not one of her sons who dared to rise +against so foul a servitude! + +'Have patience, cousin,' Basil whispered, bidding her with a glance +beware of the nearest boatman. 'There are some who will not grieve +if Totila--' + +'No more than that? To stand, and look on, and play the courtier to +whichever may triumph!' + +Basil muttered with himself. He wished he had been bred a soldier +instead of growing to manhood in an age when the nobles of Rome were +held to inglorious peace, their sole career that of the jurist And +Aurelia, brooding, saw him involved beyond recall in her schemes of +vengeance. + +The purple evening fell about them, an afterglow of sunset trembling +upon the violet sea. Above the heights of Capreae a star began to +glimmer; and lo, yonder from behind the mountains rose the great orb +of the moon. They were in the harbour at last, but had to wait on +board until a messenger could go to the village and a conveyance +arrive. The litter came, with a horse for Basil; Felix, together +with Aurelia's grey-headed porter and a female slave--these two +the only servants that had remained in the house at Cumae-- +followed on foot, and the baggage was carried up on men's shoulders. + +'Decius!' cried Basil, in a passionate undertone, when he +encountered his kinsman in the vestibule. 'Decius! we are here-- +and one with us whom you know not. Hush! Stifle your curiosity till +to-morrow. Let them pass.' + +So had the day gone by, and not once had he looked upon the face of +Veranilda. + +He saw her early on the morrow. Aurelia, though the whole villa was +now at her command, chose still to inhabit the house of Proba; and +thither, when the day was yet young, she summoned Basil. The room in +which she sat was hung with pictured tapestry, representing Christ +and the Apostles; crude work, but such as had pleased Faltonia +Proba, whose pious muse inspired her to utter the Gospel in a +Virgilian canto. And at Aurelia's side, bending over a piece of +delicate needlework, sat the Gothic maiden, clad in white, her +flaxen hair, loosely held with silk, falling behind her shoulders, +shadowing her forehead, and half hiding the little ears. At Basil's +entrance she did not look up; at the first sound of his voice she +bent her head yet lower, and only when he directly addressed her, +asking, with all the gentleness his lips could command, whether the +journey had left much fatigue, did she show for a moment her watchet +eyes, answering few words with rare sweetness. + +'Be seated, dear my lord,' said his cousin, in the soft, womanly +voice once her habitual utterance. 'There has been so little +opportunity of free conversation, that we have almost, one might +say, to make each other's acquaintance yet. But I hope we may now +enjoy a little leisure, and live as becomes good kinsfolk.' + +Basil made such suitable answer as his agitation allowed. + +'And the noble Decius,' pursued Aurelia, 'will, I trust, bestow at +times a little of his leisure upon us. Perhaps this afternoon you +could persuade him to forget his books for half an hour? But let us +speak, to begin with, of sad things which must needs occupy us. Is +it possible, yet, to know when the ship will sail for Rome?' + +Aurelia meant, of course, the vessel which would convey her father's +corpse, and the words cast gloom upon Basil, who had all but +forgotten the duty that lay before him. He answered that a week at +least must pass before the sailing, and, as he spoke, kept his eyes +upon Veranilda, whose countenance--or so it seemed to him--had +become graver, perhaps a little sad. + +'Is it your purpose to stay long in Rome?' was Aurelia's next +question, toned with rather excessive simplicity. + +'To stay long?' exclaimed Basil. 'How can you think it? Perchance I +shall not even enter the city. At Portus, I may resign my duty into +other hands, and so straightway return.' + +There was a conflict in Aurelia's mind. Reverence for her father +approved the thought of his remains being transported under the +guardianship of Basil; none the less did she dread this journey, and +feel tempted to hinder it. She rose from her chair. + +'Let us walk into the sunshine,' she said. 'The morning is chilly.' +And, as she passed out into the court, hand in hand with Veranilda, +'O, the pleasure of these large spaces, this free air, after the +straight house at Cumae! Do you not breathe more lightly, sweetest? +Come into Proba's garden, and I will show you where I sat with my +broidery when I was no older than you.' + +The garden was approached by a vaulted passage. A garden long +reconquered by nature; for the paths were lost in herbage, the seats +were overgrown with creeping plants, and the fountain had crumbled +into ruin. A high wall formerly enclosed it, but, in a shock of +earthquake some years ago, part of this had fallen, leaving a gap +which framed a lovely picture of the inland hills. Basil pulled away +the trailing leafage from a marble hemicycle, and, having spread his +cloak upon it, begged tremorously that Veranilda would rest. + +'That wall shall be rebuilt,' said Aurelia, and, as if to inspect +the ruin, wandered away. When she was distant not many paces, Basil +bent to his seated companion, and breathed in a passionate +undertone: + +'My letter reached your hands, O fairest?' + +'I received it--I read it.' + +As she spoke, Veranilda's cheeks flushed as if in shame. + +'Will you reply, were it but one word?' + +Her head drooped lower. Basil seated himself at her side. + +'One word, O Veranilda! I worship you--my soul longs for you-- +say only that you will be mine, my beloved lady, my wife!' + +Her blue eyes glistened with moisture as for an instant they met the +dark glow in his. + +'Do you know who I am?' she whispered. + +'You are Veranilda! You are beauty and sweetness and divine purity--' + +He sought her hand, but at this moment Aurelia turned towards them, +and the maiden, quivering, stood up. + +'Perhaps the sun is too powerful,' said Aurelia, with her tenderest +smile. 'My lily has lived so long in the shade.' + +They lingered a little on the shadowed side, Aurelia reviving +memories of her early life, then passed again under the vaulted +arch. Basil, whose eyes scarcely moved from Veranilda's face, could +not bring himself to address her in common words, and dreaded that +she would soon vanish. So indeed it befell. With a murmur of apology +to her friend, and a timid movement of indescribable grace in +Basil's direction, she escaped, like a fugitive wild thing, into +solitude. + +'Why has she gone?' exclaimed the lover, all impatience. 'I must +follow her--I cannot live away from her! Let me find her again.' + +His cousin checked him. + +'I have to speak to you, Basil. Come where we can be private.' + +They entered the room where they had sat before, and Aurelia, taking +up the needlework left by Veranilda, showed it to her companion with +admiration. + +'She is wondrous at this art. In a contest with Minerva, would she +not have fared better than Arachne? This mourning garment which I +wear is of her making, and look at the delicate work; it was wrought +four years ago, when I heard of my brother's death--wrought in a +few days. She was then but thirteen. In all that it beseems a woman +to know, she is no less skilled. Yonder lies her cithern; she learnt +to touch it, I scarce know how, out of mere desire to soothe my +melancholy, and I suspect--though she will not avow it--that the +music she plays is often her own. In sickness she has tended me with +skill as rare as her gentleness; her touch on the hot forehead is +like that of a flower plucked before sunrise. Hearing me speak thus +of her, what think you, O Basil, must be my trust in the man to whom +I would give her for wife?' + +'Can you doubt my love, O Aurelia?' cried the listener, clasping his +hands before him. + +'Your love? No. But your prudence, is that as little beyond doubt?' + +'I have thought long and well,' said Basil. + +Aurelia regarded him steadily. + +'You spoke with her in the garden just now. Did she reply?' + +'But few words. She asked me if I knew her origin, and blushed as +she spoke.' + +'It is her wish that I should tell you; and I will.' + +Scarce had Aurelia begun her narrative, when Basil perceived that +his own conjecture, and that of Marcian, had hit the truth. +Veranilda was a great-grandchild of Amalafrida, the sister of King +Theodoric, being born of the daughter of King Theodahad; and her +father was that Ebrimut, whose treachery at the beginning of the +great war delivered Rhegium into the hands of the Greeks. Her +mother, Theodenantha, a woman of noble spirit, scorned the unworthy +Goth, and besought the conqueror to let her remain in Italy, even as +a slave, rather than share with such a husband the honours of the +Byzantine court. She won this grace from Belisarius, and was +permitted to keep with her the little maiden, just growing out of +childhood. But shame and grief had broken her heart; after a few +months of imprisonment at Cumae she died. And Veranilda passed into +the care of the daughter of Maximus. + +'For I too was a captive,' said Aurelia, 'and of the same religion +as the orphan child. By happy hazard I had become a friend of her +mother, in those days of sorrow; and with careless scorn our +conquerors permitted me to take Veranilda into my house. As the +years went by, she was all but forgotten; there came a new +governor--this thievish Hun--who paid no heed to us. I looked forward +to a day when we might quit Cumae and live in freedom where we would. +Then something unforeseen befell. Half a year ago, just when the air +of spring began to breathe into that dark, chill house, a distant +kinsman of ours, who has long dwelt in Byzantium--do you know +Olybrius, the son of Probinus?' + +'I have heard his name.' + +'He came to me, as if from my father; but I soon discovered that he +had another mission, his main purpose being to seek for Veranilda. +By whom sent, I could not learn; but he told me that Ebrimut was +dead, and that his son, Veranilda's only brother, was winning glory +in the war with the Persians. For many days I lived in fear lest my +pearl should be torn from me. Olybrius it was, no doubt, who bade +the Hun keep watch upon us, and it can only have been by chance that +I was allowed to go forth unmolested when you led me hither the +first time. He returned to Byzantium, and I have heard no more. But +a suspicion haunts my mind. What if Marcian were also watching +Veranilda?' + +'Marcian!' cried the listener incredulously. 'You do not know him. +He is the staunchest and frankest of friends. He knows of my love; +we have talked from heart to heart.' + +'Yet it was at his intercession that the Hun allowed us to go; why, +you cannot guess. What if he have power and motives which threaten +Veranilda's peace?' + +Basil exclaimed against this as the baseless fear of a woman. Had +there been a previous command from some high source touching the +Gothic maiden, Chorsoman would never have dared to sell her freedom. +As to Marcian's power, that was derived from the authorities at +Rome, and granted him for other ends; if he used it to release +Veranilda, he acted merely out of love to his friend, as would soon +be seen. + +'I will hope so,' murmured Aurelia. 'Now you have heard what she +herself desired that I should tell you, for she could not meet your +look until you knew it. Her father's treachery is Veranilda's shame; +she saw her noble mother die for it, and it has made her mourning +keener than a common sorrow. I think she would never have dared to +wed a Goth; all true Goths, she believes in her heart, must despise +her. It is her dread lest you, learning who she is, should find your +love chilled.' + +'Call her,' cried Basil, starting to his feet. 'Or let me go to her. +She shall not suffer that fear for another moment. Veranilda! +Veranilda!' + +His companion retained and quieted him. He should see Veranilda ere +long. But there was yet something to be spoken of. + +'Have you forgotten that she is not of your faith?' + +'Do I love her, adore her, the less?' exclaimed Basil. 'Does she +shrink from me on that account?' + +'I know,' pursued his cousin, 'what the Apostle of the Gentiles has +said: "For the husband who believes not is sanctified by the wife, +and the wife who believes not is sanctified by the husband." None +the less, Veranilda is under the menace of the Roman law; and you, +if it be known that you have wedded her, will be in peril from all +who serve the Emperor--at least in dark suspicion; and will be +slightly esteemed by all of our house.' + +The lover paced about, and all at once, with a wild gesture, uttered +his inmost thought. + +'What if I care naught for those of our house? And what if the +Emperor of the East is of as little account to me? My country is not +Byzantium, but Rome.' + +Aurelia hushed his voice, but her eyes shone with stern gladness as +she stood before him, and took him by the hand, and spoke what he +alone could hear. + +'Then unite yourself in faith with those who would make Rome free. +Be one in religion with the brave Goths--with Veranilda.' + +He cast down his eyes and drew a deep breath. + +'I scarce know what that religion is, O Aurelia,' came from him +stammeringly. 'I am no theologian; I never cared to puzzle my head +about the mysteries which men much wiser than I declare to pass all +human understanding. Ask Decius if he can defend the faith of +Athanasius against that of the Arians; he will smile, and shake his +head in that droll way he has. I believe,' he added after a brief +hesitancy, 'in Christ and in the Saints. Does not Veranilda also?' + +The temptress drew back a little, seated herself; yielded to +troublous thought. It was long since she had joined in the worship +of a congregation, for at Cumae there was no Arian church. Once only +since her captivity had she received spiritual comfort from an Arian +priest, who came to that city in disguise. What her religion truly +was she could not have declared, for the memories of early life were +sometimes as strong in her as rancour against the faith of her +enemies. Basil's simple and honest utterance touched her conscience. +She put an end to the conversation, promising to renew it before +long; whilst Basil, for his part, went away to brood, then to hold +converse with Decius. + +Through all but the whole of Theodoric's reign, Italy had enjoyed a +large toleration in religion: Catholics, Arians, and even Jews +observed their worship under the protection of the wise king. Only +in the last few years of his life did he commit certain acts of +harshness against his Catholic subjects, due to the wrath that was +moved in him by a general persecution of the Arians proclaimed at +Byzantium. His Gothic successors adhered to Theodoric's better +principle, and only after the subjugation of the land by Belisarius +had Arianism in Italy been formally condemned. Of course it was +protected by the warring Goths: Totila's victories had now once more +extended religious tolerance over a great part of the country; the +Arian priesthood re-entered their churches; and even in Rome the +Greek garrison grew careless of the reviving heresy. Of these things +did Decius speak, when the distressed lover sought his counsel. No +one more liberal than Decius; but he bore a name which he could not +forget, and in his eyes the Goth was a barbarian, the Gothic woman +hardly above the level of a slave. That Basil should take a Gothic +wife, even one born of a royal line, seemed to him an indignity. +Withheld by the gentleness of his temper from saying all he thought, +he spoke only of the difficulties which would result from such a +marriage, and when, in reply, Basil disclosed his mind, though less +vehemently than to Aurelia, Decius fell into meditation. He, too, +had often reflected with bitterness on the results of that +restoration of Rome to the Empire which throughout the Gothic +dominion most of the Roman nobles had never ceased to desire; all +but was he persuaded to approve the statesmanship of Cassiodorus. +Nevertheless, he could not, without shrinking, see a kinsman pass +over to the side of Totila. + +'I must think,' he murmured. 'I must think.' + +He had not yet seen Veranilda. When, in the afternoon, Basil led him +into the ladies' presence, and his eyes fell upon that white-robed +loveliness, censure grew faint in him. Though a Decius, he was a man +of the sixth century after Christ; his mind conceived an ideal of +human excellence which would have been unintelligible to the Decii +of old; in his heart meekness and chastity had more reverence than +perhaps he imagined. He glanced at Basil; he understood. Though the +future still troubled him, opposition to the lover's will must, he +knew, be idle. + +Several hours before, Basil had scratched on a waxed tablet a few +emphatic lines, which his cousin allowed to be transmitted to +Veranilda. They assured her that what he had learned could only-- +if that were possible--increase his love, and entreated her to +grant him were it but a moment's speech after the formal visit, +later in the day. The smile with which she now met him seemed at +once gratitude and promise; she was calmer, and less timid. Though +she took little part in the conversation, her words fell very +sweetly after the men's speech and the self-confident tones of +Aurelia; her language was that of an Italian lady, but in the accent +could be marked a slight foreignness, which to Basil's ear had the +charm of rarest music, and even to Decius sounded not unpleasing. +Under the circumstances, talk, confined to indifferent subjects, +could not last very long; as soon as it began to flag, Decius found +an excuse for begging permission to retire. As though wishing for a +word with him in confidence, Aurelia at the same time passed out of +the room into the colonnade. Basil and Veranilda were left alone. + + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE EMPEROR'S COMMAND + + + + +His voice made tremulous music, inaudible a few paces away; his +breath was on her cheek; his eyes, as she gazed into them, seemed to +envelop her in their glow. + +'My fairest! Let me but touch your hand. Lay it for a moment in mine--a +pledge for ever!' + +'You do not fear to love me, O lord of my life?' + +The whisper made him faint with joy. + +'What has fear to do with love, O thou with heaven in thine eyes! +what room is there for fear in the heart where thy beauty dwells? +Speak again, speak again, my beloved, and bless me above all men +that live!' + +'Basil! Basil! Utter my name once more. I never knew how sweet it +could sound.' + +'Nor I, how soft could be the sound of mine. Forgive me, O +Veranilda, that out of my love pain has come to you. You will not +ever be sad again? You will not think ever again of those bygone +sorrows?' + +She bent her head low. + +'Can you believe in my truth, O Basil? Can _you_ forget?' + +'All save the nobleness of her who bore you, sweet and fair one.' + +'Let _that_ be ever in your thought,' said Veranilda, with a radiant +look. 'She sees me now; and my hope, your strength and goodness, +bring new joy to her in the life eternal.' + +'Say the word I wait for--whisper low--the word of all words.' + +'Out of my soul, O Basil, I love you!' + +As the sound trembled into silence, his lips touched hers. In the +golden shadow of her hair, the lily face flushed warm; yet she did +not veil her eyes, vouchers of a life's loyalty. + +When Aurelia entered the room again, she walked as though absorbed +in thought. + +'Decius tells me he must soon go to Rome,' were her words, in +drawing near to the lovers. + +Basil had heard of no such purpose. His kinsman, under the will of +Maximus, enjoyed a share in the annual revenue of this Surrentine +estate; moreover, he became the possessor of many books, which lay +in the Anician mansion of Rome, and it was his impatience. thought +Aurelia, to lay hands upon so precious a legacy, which might at any +time be put in danger by the events of the war, that prompted him to +set forth. + +'Might he not perform the duty you have undertaken?' she added in a +lower voice, as she met Basil's look. + +Veranilda did not speak, but an anxious hope dawned in her face. And +Basil saw it. + +'Have you spoken of it, cousin?' he asked. + +'The thought has but just come to me.' + +'Decius is not in good health. Thus late in the year, to travel by +sea--Yet the weather may be fair, the sea still; and then it +would be easier for him than the journey by land.' + +Basil spoke in a halting tone. He could not without a certain shame +think of revoking his promise to Petronilla, a very distinct +promise, in which natural obligation had part. Yet the thought of +the journey, of an absence from Veranilda, not without peril of many +kinds, grew terrible to him. He looked at Veranilda again, and +smiled encouragement. + +The lady Petronilla had been wont to dine and sup in dignified +publicity, seated on the _sigma_, in the room which had seen so many +festivals, together with her male relatives and any guest who might +be at the villa; in her presence, no man permitted himself the +recumbent attitude, which indeed had been unusual save among the +effeminate. But Aurelia and her companion took their meals apart. +This evening, Basil and Decius supped almost in silence, each busy +with his reflections. They lingered over the wine, their attendants +having left them, until Decius, as if rousing himself from a dream, +asked how long it was likely to be before the ship could sail. Basil +answered that the leaden coffin would be ready within a few days (it +was being made at Neapolis, out of water-pipes which had served a +villa in ruins), and after that there would only be delay through +wind and weather. + +'Are you greatly bent on going to Rome just now?' was the student's +next inquiry, a twinkle in his eyes as he spoke. + +'By Bacchus!' answered the other, handling his goblet. 'If I saw my +way to avoid it!' + +'I guessed as much. The suspicion came to me at a certain moment +this morning--a mere grain, which ever since has been growing +_tanquam favus_. I am not wont to consider myself as of much use, +but is it not just possible that, in this case, your humble kinsman +might serve you?' + +'My good, my excellent, my very dear Decius!' broke from the +listener. 'But would it not be with risk to your health?' + +'I would beg permission not to weigh anchor in a tempest, that's +all. The sea in its gentler moods I have never feared, and +_alcyoneum medicamen_, you know, in other words the sea-foam, has +always been recommended for freckles.' + +He touched his face, which was in deed much freckle-spotted, and +Basil, whose spirits rose each moment, gave a good-natured laugh. + +'One thing only,' added Decius seriously. 'Inasmuch as this charge +is a grave one, I would not undertake it without the consent of the +ladies Aurelia and Petronilla. Perchance, in respect for the +honoured Maximus, they would feel reluctant to see me take your +place.' + +'O modest Decius!' exclaimed the other. 'Which, pray, carries the +more dignity, your name or mine?--not to speak of your learning +and my ignorance. As to Aurelia, I can ease your mind at once. She +would not dream of objecting.' + +'Then let us, to-morrow, beg audience of the pious lady at +Surrentum, and request her permission.' + +The proposal made Basil uncomfortable; but a visit of respect to +Petronilla was certainly due, and perhaps it would pass without +troublesome incident. He nodded assent. + +Early on the morrow they carried out their purpose. To the surprise +of both, Petronilla received them in her modest abode not +ungraciously, though with marked condescension; she gave them to +understand that her days, and much of her nights, passed in +religious exercises, the names of her kinsfolk not being omitted +from her prayers; of the good bishop she spoke almost tenderly, and +with a humble pride related that she had been able to ease a +persistent headache from which his Sanctity suffered. When Basil +found an opportunity of reporting what had passed between him and +Decius, the lady's austere smile was for a moment clouded; it looked +as though storm might follow. But the smile returned, with perhaps a +slightly changed significance. Did Basil think of remaining long at +the villa? Ah, he could not say; to be sure, the times were so +uncertain. For her own part, she would start on her journey as soon +as the coffin was on board the ship. Indeed, she saw no objection to +the arrangement her dear nephew proposed; she only trusted that the +learned and amiable Decius, so justly esteemed by all, would have a +care of his health. Did he still take the infusion of marjoram which +she had prescribed for him? A holy man, newly returned from the +East, had deigned to visit her only yesterday, and had given her a +small phial of water from Rebekah's well; it was of priceless +virtue, and one drop of it had last evening restored to health and +strength a child that lay at the point of death. + +In the afternoon Basil was again permitted to see Veranilda, though +not alone. To her and to Aurelia he made known that Decius would +willingly undertake the voyage. After lingering for an hour in the +vain hope that Aurelia would withdraw, were it but for a moment, he +went away and scratched ardent words on his tablet. 'I will be in +your garden,' he concluded, 'just at sunrise to-morrow. Try, try to +meet me there.' + +Scarcely had he despatched a servant with this when Felix announced +to him the arrival of Marcian. On fire with eagerness, Basil sped to +greet his friend. + +'Give me to drink,' were the traveller's first words. 'I have ridden +since before dawn, and have a tongue like leather.' + +Wine and grapes, with other refreshments, were set forth for him. +Marcian took up an earthenware jug full of spring water, and drank +deeply. His host then urged the wine, but it was refused; and as +Basil knew that one of his friend's peculiarities was a rigorous +abstinence at times from all liquor save the pure element, he said +no more. + +'I have been at Nuceria,' Marcian continued, throwing himself on a +seat, 'with Venantius. What a man! He was in the saddle yesterday +from sunrise to sunset; drank from sunset to the third hour of the +night; rose before light this morning, gay and brisk, and made me +ride with him, so that I was all but tired out before I started on +the road hither. Venantius declares that he can only talk of serious +things on horseback.' + +'My uncle regarded him as a Roman turned barbarian,' said Basil. + +'Something of that, but such men have their worth and their place.' + +'We will talk about him at another time,' Basil interrupted. +'Remember how we parted at Cumae and what happened afterwards. We +are private here; you can speak freely. How did you release us from +the grip of the Hun?' + +'I told you before, good Basil, that I was here to spy upon you; and +be sure that I did not undertake that office without exacting a +proof of the confidence of our lords at Rome. Something I carry with +me which has power over such dogs as Chorsoman.' + +'I saw that, best Marcian. But it did not avail to save my cousin +Aurelia from robbery.' + +'Nothing would, where Chorsoman was sure of a week's--nay, of an +hour's--impunity. But did he steal aught belonging to the Gothic +maiden?' + +'To Veranilda? She has but a bracelet and a ring, and those she was +wearing. They came from her mother, a woman of noblest heart, who, +when her husband Ebrimut played the traitor, and she was left behind +in Italy, would keep nothing but these two trinkets, which once were +worn by Amalafrida.' + +'You know all that now,' observed Marcian quietly. + +'The story of the trinkets only since an hour or two ago. That of +Veranilda's parentage I learned from Aurelia, Veranilda refusing to +converse with me until I knew.' + +'Since when you have conversed, I take it, freely enough.' + +'Good my lord,' replied Basil, with a look of some earnestness, 'let +us not jest on this matter.' + +'I am little disposed to do so, O fiery lover!' said Marcian, with a +return of his wonted melancholy. 'For I have that to tell you which +makes the matter grave enough. We were right, you see, in our guess +of Veranilda's origin; I could wish she had been any one else. +Patience, patience! You know that I left you here to go to Neapolis. +There I received letters from Rome, one of them from Bessas himself, +and, by strange hazard, the subject of it was the daughter of +Ebrimut.' + +Basil made a gesture of repugnance. 'Nay, call her the daughter of +Theodenantha.' + +'As you will. In any case the granddaughter of a king, and not +likely to be quite forgotten by the royal family of her own race. +Another king's grandchild, Matasuntha, lives, as you know, at +Byzantium, and enjoys no little esteem at the Emperor's court; it is +rumoured, indeed, that her husband Vitiges, having died somewhere in +battle, Matasuntha is to wed a nephew of Justinian. This lady, I am +told, desires to know the daughter of Ebri--nay, then, of +Theodenantha; of whom, it seems, a report has reached her. A command +of the Emperor has come to Bessas that the maiden Veranilda, +resident at Cumae, be sent to Constantinople with all convenient +speed. And upon me, O Basil, lies the charge of seeking her in her +dwelling, and of conveying her safely to Rome, where she will be +guarded until--' + +'Will be guarded!' echoed Basil fiercely. 'Nay, by the holy Peter +and Paul, that will she not! You are my friend, Marcian, and I hold +you dear, but if you attempt to obey this order--' + +Hand on dagger, and eyes glaring, the young noble had sprung to his +feet. Marcian did not stir; his head was slightly bent, and a sad +smile hovered about his lips. + +'O descendant of all the Anicii,' he replied, 'O son of many +consuls, remember the ancestral dignity. Time enough to threaten +when you detect me in an unfriendly act. Did I play the traitor to +you at Cumae? With the Hun this command of Justinian served you in +good stead; Veranilda would not otherwise have escaped so easily. +Chorsoman, fat-witted as he is, willingly believed that Veranilda +and Aurelia, and you yourself, were all in my net--which means the +net of Bessas, whom he fears. Do you also believe it, my good +Basil?' + +For answer Basil embraced his friend, and kissed him on either +cheek. + +'I know how this has come about,' he said; and thereupon related the +story of the visit of Olybrius to Aurelia six months ago. It seemed +probable that a report of Veranilda's beauty had reached Matasuntha, +who wished to adorn her retinue with so fair a remnant of the Amal +race. How, he went on to ask, would Marcian excuse himself at Rome +for his failure to perform this office? + +'Leave that to my ingenuity,' was the reply. 'Enough for you to dare +defiance of the Emperor's will.' + +Basil made a scornful gesture, which his friend noted with the same +melancholy smile. + +'You have no misgiving?' said Marcian. 'Think who it is you brave. +Imperator Caesar Flavius Justinianus--Africanus, Gothicus, +Germanicus, Vandalicus, and I know not what else--Pius, Felix, +Inclytus, Victor ac Triumphator, Semper Augustus--' + +The other laid a hand upon his shoulder. + +'Marcian, no word of this to Aurelia, I charge you!' + +'I have no desire to talk about it, be assured. But it is time that +we understood each other. Be plain with me. If you wed Veranilda how +do you purpose to secure your safety? Not, I imagine, by prostrating +yourself before Bessas. Where will you be safe from pursuit?' + +Basil reflected, then asked boldly: + +'Has not the King Totila welcomed and honourably entertained Romans +who have embraced his cause?' + +'Come now,' exclaimed the other, his sad visage lighting up, 'that +is to speak like a man! So, we _do_ understand each other. Be it +known unto you then, O Basil, that at this moment the Gothic king is +aware of your love for Veranilda, and of your purpose to espouse +her. You indeed are a stranger to him, even in name; but not so the +Anician house; and an Anician, be assured, will meet with no cold +reception in the camp of the Goths.' + +'You enjoy the confidence of Totila?' asked Basil, wondering, and a +little confused. + +'Did I not tell you that I claimed the merit of playing traitor to +both sides?' + +Marcian spoke with a note of bitterness, looking his friend fixedly +in the face. + +'It is a noble treachery,' said Basil, seizing both his hands. 'I am +with you, heart and soul! Tell me more. Where is the king? Will he +march upon Rome?' + +'Neapolis will see him before Rome does. He comes slowly through +Samnium, making sure his conquest on the way. Let me now speak again +of Venantius. He would fain know you.' + +'He is one of ours?' + +'One of those true Romans who abhor the Eastern tyranny and see in +the Goth a worthy ally. Will you ride with me to-morrow to Nuceria?' + +'I cannot,' replied Basil, 'for I dare not leave Veranilda without +protection, after what you have told me.' + +'Why, then, Venantius must come hither.' + +Whilst the friends were thus conversing a courier rode forth from +Surrentum towards Neapolis. He bore a letter whereof the contents +were these:-- + +'To the holy and reverend deacon Leander, Petronilla's humble +salutation. + +'I am most punctually informed of all that passes at the villa. My +nephew goes not to Rome; his place will be taken by Decius. The +reason is that which I have already suggested to your Sanctity. +Marcian has arrived this afternoon, coming I know not whence, but I +shall learn. I suspect things of the darkest moment. Let your +Sanctity pursue the project with which heaven has inspired you. You +shall receive, if necessary, two missives every day. Humbly I +entreat your prayers.' + + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +HERESY + + + + +The Roman Empire, by confining privileges and honours to the +senatorial order, created a noble caste, and this caste, as Imperial +authority declined, became a power independent of the state, and a +menace to its existence. In Italy, by the end of the fifth century, +the great system of citizenship, with its principle of infinite +devotion to the good of the commonwealth, was all but forgotten. In +matters of justice and of finance the nobles were beginning to live +by their own law, which was that of the right of the strongest. +Having ceased to hold office and perform public services in the +municipia, they became, in fact, rulers of the towns situated on or +near their great estates. Theodoric, striving to uphold the ancient +civility, made strenuous efforts to combat this aristocratic +predominance; yet on some points he was obliged to yield to the +tendency of the times, as when he forbade the freedmen, serfs, and +slaves on any estate to plead against their lord, and so delivered +the mass of the rural inhabitants of Italy to private jurisdiction. +The Gothic war of course hastened the downfall of political and +social order. The manners of the nobles grew violent in lawlessness; +men calling themselves senators, but having in fact renounced that +rank by permanent absence from Rome, and others who merely belonged +to senatorial houses, turned to fortifying their villas, and to +building castles on heights, whilst they gathered about them a body +of retainers, armed for defence or for aggression. + +Such a personage was Venantius, son of a senator of the same name, +who, under Theodoric, had attained the dignity of Patrician and what +other titular glories the time afforded. Venantius, the younger, +coming into possession of an estate between Neapolis and Salernum, +here took up his abode after the siege of Rome, and lived as seemed +good to him, lord over the little town of Nuceria, and of a +considerable tract of country, with a villa converted into a +stronghold up on the mountain side. Having suffered wrongs at the +hands of the Imperial conquerors--property of his in Rome had been +seized--he heard with satisfaction of the rise of Totila, and, as +soon as the king's progress southward justified such a step, entered +into friendly communication with the Goth, whom he invited to come +with all speed into Campania, where Salernum, Neapolis, Cumae, would +readily fall into his hands. Marcian, on his double mission of spy +in the Greek service and friend of the Goths, had naturally sought +out Venantius; and the description he gave to Basil of the fortress +above Nuceria filled the listener with enthusiasm. + +'I would I could live in the same way,' Basil exclaimed. 'And why +not? My own villa in Picenum might be strengthened with walls and +towers. We have stone enough, and no lack of men to build.' + +Yet as he spoke a misgiving betrayed itself on his countenance. +Consciously or not, he had always had before him a life at Rome, the +life which became a Roman, as distinguished from a barbarian. But +the need to seek security for Veranilda again became vivid to his +mind. At Rome, clearly, he could not live with his wife until the +Goths had reconquered the city, which was not likely to happen soon. +His means were represented chiefly by the Arpinum estate, which he +had inherited from his father; in Rome he had nothing but his +mansion on the Caelian. The treasure at his command, a considerable +sum, he had brought away in a strong box, and it was now more than +doubled in value by what fell to him under the will of Maximus-- +money to be paid out of the great coffer which the senator had +conveyed hither. As they talked, Marcian urged upon him a close +friendship with Venantius, in whose castle he would be welcomed. +Here at Surrentum he could not long rest in safety, for Chorsoman +might at any time have his suspicions awakened by learning the delay +of Veranilda's journey to Rome, and the news of her marriage could +not be prevented from spreading. + +So Basil lay through an anxious hour or two before sleep fell upon +him to-night. He resolved to change the habits of his life, to shake +off indolence and the love of ease, to fortify himself with vigorous +exercises, and become ready for warfare. It was all very well for an +invalid, like Decius, to nurse a tranquil existence, unheeding the +temper of the times. A strong and healthy man had no right to lurk +away from the streaming flood of things; it behoved him to take his +part in strife and tumult, to aid in re-establishing a civic state. +This determination firmly grasped, he turned to think of the +hoped-for meeting with Veranilda in the morning, and gentler +emotions lulled him into dreams. + +At dawn he bestirred himself. The gallery outside his chamber was +lighted with a hanging lamp, and at a little distance sounded the +footstep of the watchman, who told him that the morning was fair, +and, at his bidding, opened a door which admitted to the open +terrace overlooking the sea. Having stepped forth, Basil stood for a +moment sniffing the cool air with its scent from the vineyards, and +looking at the yellow rift in the eastern sky; then he followed a +path which skirted the villa's outward wall and led towards the +dwelling of Aurelia. Presently he reached the ruined wall of the +little garden, and here a voice challenged him, that of a servant on +watch until sunrise. + +'It is well,' he replied. 'I will relieve you for this last half +hour; go to your rest.' + +But the slave hesitated. He had strictest orders, and feared to +disobey them even at this bidding. + +'You are an honest fellow,' said Basil, 'and the lady Aurelia shall +know of your steadfastness. But get you gone; there is no danger +whilst I am here.' + +Impatiently he watched the man retire, then stood just within the +gap of the wall, and waited with as much fear as hope. It might be +that Veranilda would not venture forth without speaking to Aurelia, +who might forbid the meeting; or, if she tried to steal out, she +might be detected and hindered; perhaps she would fear to pass under +the eyes of a watchman or other servant who might be in her way. He +stamped nervously, and turned to look for a moment in the outward +direction. This little villa stood on the edge of a declivity +falling towards the sea; a thicket of myrtles grew below. At the +distance of half a mile along the coast, beyond a hollow wooded with +ilex, rose a temple, which time and the hand of man had yet spared; +its whiteness glimmered against a sky whose cloudless dusk was +warming with a reflection of the daybreak. An influence in the scene +before him, something he neither understood nor tried to understand, +held him gazing longer than he supposed, and with a start he heard +his name spoken by the beloved voice. Close to him stood Veranilda. +She was cloaked and hooded, so that he could hardly see her face; +but her white hands were held out for his. + +Heart to heart, mouth to mouth, they whispered. To be more private, +Basil drew her without the garden. Veranilda's eyes fixed themselves +upon the spreading glory of the east; and it moved her to utterance. + +'When I was a child,' she said, 'at Ravenna, I gazed once at the +sunrise, and behold, in the rays which shot upwards stood an angel, +a great, beautiful angel, with wings of blue, and a garment which +shone like gold, and on his head was a wreath of I know not what +flowers. I ran to tell my mother, but when she came, alas! the angel +had vanished. No one could tell me certainly what the vision meant. +Often I have looked and hoped to see the angel again, but he has +never come.' + +Basil listened without a doubt, and murmured soft words. Then he +asked whether Aurelia knew of this meeting; but Veranilda shook her +head. + +'I durst not speak. I so feared to disappoint you. This night I have +hardly slept, lest I should miss the moment. Should I not return +very soon, O Basil?' + +'You shall; though your going will make the sky black as when Auster +blows. But it is not for long. A few days--' + +He broke off with the little laugh of a triumphing lover. + +'A few days?' responded Veranilda, timidly questioning. + +'We wait only until that dark ship has sailed for Rome.' 'Does +Aurelia know that you purpose it so soon?' asked Veranilda. + +'Why? Has she seemed to you to wish otherwise?' + +'She has never spoken of it.--And afterwards? Shall we remain +here, Basil?' + +'For no long time. Here I am but a guest. We must dwell where I am +lord and you lady of all about us.' + +He told her of his possessions, of the great house in Rome with the +villa at Arpinum. Then he asked her, playfully, but with a serious +purpose in his mind, which of the two she would prefer for an abode. + +'I have no choice but yours,' she replied. 'Where it seems good to +my dear lord to dwell, there shall I be at rest.' + +'We must be safe against our enemies,' said Basil, with graver +countenance. + +'Our enemies?' + +'Has not Aurelia talked to you of the war? You know that the Gothic +king is conquering all before him, coming from the north?' + +Veranilda looked into her lover's face with a tender anxiety. + +'And you fear him, O Basil? It is he that is our enemy?' + +'Not so, sweetest. No foe of mine is he who wears the crown of +Theodoric. They whom I fear and abhor are the slaves of Justinian, +the robber captains who rule at Ravenna and in Rome.' + +As she heard him, Veranilda trembled with joy. She caught his hand, +and bent over it, and kissed it. + +'Had I been the enemy of Totila,' said Basil, 'could you still have +loved me as a wife should love?' + +'I had not asked myself,' she answered, 'for it was needless. When I +look on you, I think neither of Roman nor of Goth.' + +Basil spoke of his hope that Rome might be restored to the same +freedom it had enjoyed under the great king. Then they would dwell +together in the sacred city. That, too, was Veranilda's desire; for +on her ear the name of Rome fell with a magic sound; all her life +she had heard it spoken reverentially, with awe, yet the city itself +she had never seen. Rome, she knew, was vast; there, it seemed to +her, she would live unobserved, unthought of save by him she loved. +Seclusion from all strangers, from all who, learning her origin, +would regard her slightingly, was what her soul desired. + +Day had broken; behind the mountains there was light of the sun. +Once more they held each other heart to heart, and Veranilda +hastened through the garden to regain her chamber. Basil stood for +some minutes lost in a delicious dream; the rising day made his face +beautiful, his eyes gleamed with an unutterable rapture. At length +he sighed and awoke and looked about him. At no great distance, as +though just issued from the ilex wood, moved a man's figure. It +approached very slowly, and Basil watched until he saw that the man +was bent as if with age, and had black garments such as were worn by +wandering mendicant monks. Carelessly he turned, and went his way +back to the villa. + +An hour later, Aurelia learnt that a 'holy man,' a pilgrim much +travel worn, was begging to be admitted to her. She refused to see +him. Still he urged his entreaty, declaring that he had a precious +gift for her acceptance, and an important message for her ear. At +length he was allowed to enter the atrium, and Aurelia saw before +her a man in black monkish habit, his body bent and tremulous, but +evidently not with age, for his aspect otherwise was that of middle +life. What, she asked briefly and coldly, was his business with her? +Thereupon the monk drew from his bosom a small wrappage of tissues, +which when unfolded disclosed a scrap of something hairy. + +'This, noble lady,' said the monk, in a voice reverently subdued, +'is from the camel-hair garment of Holy John the Baptist. I had it +of a hermit in the Egyptian desert, who not many days after I +quitted him was for his sanctity borne up to heaven by angels, and +knew not death.' + +Aurelia viewed the relic with emotion. + +'Why,' she asked, 'do you offer it to me?' + +The monk drew a step nearer and whispered: + +'Because I know that you, like him from whom I received it, are of +the true faith.' + +Aurelia observed him closely. His robe was ragged and filthy; his +bare feet were thick with the dust of the road; his visage, much +begrimed, wore an expression of habitual suffering, and sighs as of +pain frequently broke from him. The hand by which he supported +himself on a staff trembled as with weakness. + +'You are not a presbyter?' she said in an undertone, after a glance +at his untonsured head. + +'I am unworthy of the meanest order in the Church. In pilgrimings +and fastings I do penance for a sin of youth. You see how wasted is +my flesh.' + +'What, then,' asked Aurelia, 'was the message you said you bore for +me?' + +'This. Though I myself have no power to perform the sacraments of +our faith, I tend upon one who has. He lies not far from here, like +myself sick and weary, and, because of a vow, may not come within +the precincts of any dwelling. In Macedonia, oppressed by our +persecutors, he was long imprisoned, and so sorely tormented that, +in a moment when the Evil One prevailed over his flesh, he denied +the truth. This sin gave him liberty, but scarce had he come forth +when a torment of the soul, far worse than that of his body, fell +upon him. He was delivered over to the Demon, and, being yet alive, +saw about him the fires of Gehenna. Thus, for a season, did he +suffer things unspeakable, wandering in desert places, ahungered, +athirst, faint unto death, yet not permitted to die. One night of +storm, he crept for shelter into the ruins of a heathen temple. Of a +sudden, a dreadful light shone about him, and he beheld the Demon in +the guise of that false god, who fell upon him and seemed like to +slay him. But Sisinnius--so is the holy man named--strove in +prayer and in conjuration, yea, strove hours until the crowing of +the cock, and thus sank into slumber. And while he slept, an angel +of the Most High appeared before him, and spoke words which I know +not. Since then, Sisinnius wanders from land to land, seeking out +the temples of the heathen which have not been purified, and passing +the night in strife with the Powers of Darkness, wherein he is ever +victorious.' + +With intent look did Aurelia listen to this narrative. At its close, +she asked eagerly: + +'This man of God has sent you to me?' + +'Moved by a vision--for in the sleep which follows upon his +struggle it is often granted him to see beyond this world. He bids +you resist temptation, and be of good courage.' + +'Know you what this bidding means?' inquired the awed woman, gazing +into the monk's eyes till they fell. + +'I know nothing. I am but a follower of the holy Sisinnius--an +unworthy follower.' + +'May I not speak with him?' + +The monk had a troubled look. + +'I have told you, lady, that he must not, by reason of his vow, +enter a human dwelling.' + +'But may I not go to him?' she urged. 'May I not seek him in his +solitude, guided by you?' + +To this, said the monk, he could give no reply until he had spoken +with Sisinnius. He promised to do so, and to return, though he knew +not at what hour, nor even whether it would be this day. And, after +demanding many assurances that he would come again as speedily as +might be, Aurelia allowed the messenger to depart. + +Meanwhile Basil and Marcian have spent an hour in talk, the result +of which was a decision that Marcian should again repair to the +stronghold of Venantius, and persuade him to come over t6 Surrentum. +When his friend had ridden forth Basil sought conversation with +Aurelia, whom he found in a mood unlike any she had yet shown to +him, a mood of dreamy trouble, some suppressed emotion appearing in +her look and in her speech. He began by telling her of Venantius, +but this seemed to interest her less than he had expected. + +'Cousin,' he resumed, 'I have a double thought in desiring that +Venantius should come hither. It is not only that I may talk with +him of the war, and learn his hopes, but that I may secure a safe +retreat for Veranilda when she is my wife, and for you, dear cousin, +if you desire it.' + +He spoke as strongly as he could without revealing the secret +danger, of the risks to which they would all be exposed when rumours +of his marriage reached the governor of Cumae, or the Greeks in +Neapolis. Until the Goths reached Campania, a Roman here who fell +under suspicion of favouring them must be prepared either to flee or +to defend himself. Defence of this villa was impossible even against +the smallest body of soldiers, but within the walls, raised and +fortified by Venantius, a long siege might be safely sustained. + +'It is true,' said Aurelia at length, as if rousing herself from her +abstraction, 'that we must think of safety. But you are not yet +wedded.' + +'A few days hence I shall be.' + +'Have you forgotten,' she resumed, meeting his resolute smile, 'what +still divides you from Veranilda?' + +'You mean the difference of religion. Tell me, did that stand in the +way of your marriage with a Goth?' + +She cast down her eyes and was silent. + +'Was your marriage,' Basil went on, 'blessed by a Catholic or by an +Arian presbyter?' + +'By neither,' replied Aurelia gently. + +'Then why may it not be so with me and Veranilda? And so it shall +be, lady cousin,' he added cheerily. 'Our good Decius will be gone; +we await the sailing of the ship; but you and Marcian, and perhaps +Venantius, will be our witnesses.' + +For the validity of Christian wedlock no religious rite was +necessary: the sufficient, the one indispensable, condition was +mutual consent. The Church favoured a union which had been +sanctified by the oblation and the blessing, but no ecclesiastical +law imposed this ceremony. As in the days of the old religion, a man +wedded his bride by putting the ring upon her finger and delivering +her dowry in a written document, before chosen witnesses. Aurelia +knew that even as this marriage had satisfied her, so would it +suffice to Veranilda, whom a rapturous love made careless of +doctrinal differences: She perceived, moreover, that Basil was in no +mood for religious discussion; there was little hope that he would +consent to postpone his marriage on such an account; yet to convert +Basil to 'heresy' was a fine revenge she would not willingly forego, +her own bias to Arianism being stronger than ever since the wrong +she believed herself to have suffered at the hands of the deacon, +and the insult cast at her by her long-hated aunt. After years of +bitterness, her triumph seemed assured. It was much to have +inherited from her father, to have expelled Petronilla; but the +marriage of Basil with a Goth, his renunciation of Catholicism, and +with it the Imperial cause, were greater things, and together with +their attainment she foredreamt the greatest of all, Totila's +complete conquest of Italy. She saw herself mistress in the Anician +palace at Rome, commanding vast wealth, her enemies mute, powerless, +submissive before her. Then, if it seemed good to her, she would +again wed, and her excited imagination deigned to think of no spouse +save him whose alliance would make her royal. + +Providential was the coming of the holy Sisinnius. Beyond doubt he +had the gift of prophecy. From him she would not only receive the +consolations of religion, but might learn what awaited her. Very +slowly passed the hours until the reappearance of the black monk. He +came when day was declining, and joyfully she learnt that Sisinnius +permitted her to visit him; it must be on the morrow at the second +hour, the place a spot in the ilex wood, not far away, whither the +monk would guide her. But she must come alone; were she accompanied, +even at a distance, by any attendant, Sisinnius would refuse to see +her. To all the conditions Aurelia readily consented, and bade the +monk meet her at the appointed hour by the breach in her garden +wall. + +On the morrow there was no glory of sunrise; clouds hung heavy, and +a sobbing wind shook the dry leaves of the vine. But at the second +hour, after pretence of idling about the garden, Aurelia saw +approach the black, bowed figure, with a gesture bade him go before, +and followed. She was absent not long enough to excite the remark of +her household. In going forth she had been pale with agitation; at +her return she had a fire in her cheeks, a lustre in her eyes, which +told of hopes abundantly fulfilled. At once she sought Veranilda, to +whom she had not yet spoken of the monk's visit. At this juncture +the coming even of an ordinary priest of the Arian faith would have +been more than welcome to them, living as they perforce did without +office or sacrament; but Sisinnius, declared Aurelia, was a +veritable man of God, one who had visions and saw into the future, +one whom merely to behold was a sacred privilege. She had begged his +permission to visit him again, with Veranilda, and he had consented; +but a few days must pass before that, as the holy man was called +away she knew not whither. When he summoned them they must go forth +in early morning, to a certain cave near at hand, where Sisinnius +would say mass and administer to them the communion. Hearing such +news, Veranilda gladdened. + +'Will the holy man reveal our fate to us?' she asked, with a child's +simplicity. + +'To me he has already uttered a prophetic word,' answered Aurelia, +'but I may not repeat it, no, not even to you. Enough that it has +filled my soul with wonder and joy.' + +'May that joy also be mine!' said Veranilda, pressing her hands +together. + +This afternoon, when Basil sat with her and Aurelia, she took her +cithern, and in a low voice sang songs she had heard her mother +sing, in the days before shame and sorrow fell upon Theodenantha. +There were old ballads of the Goths, oftener stern than tender, but +to the listeners, ignorant of her tongue, Veranilda's singing made +them sweet as lover's praise. One little song was Greek; it was all +she knew of that language, and the sole inheritance that had come to +her from her Greek-loving grandparent, the King Theodahad. + +Auster was blowing; great lurid clouds rolled above the dark green +waters, and at evening rain began to fall. Through the next day, and +the day after that, the sky still lowered; there was thunder of +waves upon the shore; at times a mist swept down from the mountains, +which enveloped all in gloom. To Basil and Veranilda it mattered +nothing. Where they sat together there was sunshine, and before them +gleamed an eternity of cloudless azure. + + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE SNARE + + + + +Meanwhile all was made ready for the sailing of the ship. Coffined +in lead, the body of Maximus awaited only a return of fine weather +for its conveyance to the vessel. When at length calm fell upon the +sea, and after a still night of gentle rain the day broke radiantly, +all Surrentum was in movement between church and harbour. Mass +having been said, the bishop himself led the procession down the +hollow way and through the chasm in the cliffs seaward, whilst +psalms were chanted and incense burnt. Carried in her litter, +Petronilla followed the bier; beside her walked Basil and Decius. +Only by conscious effort could these two subdue their visages to a +becoming sadness; for Basil thought of his marriage, Decius of Rome +and his library. Nor did Petronilla wear an aspect of very profound +gloom; at moments she forgot herself, and a singular animation +appeared on her proud features; it was as though some exultancy took +hold of her mind. + +That Aurelia held apart, that the daughter gave no testimony of +reverence for a father's remains, caused such murmuring in the crowd +of Surrentines: her heresy seemed to be made more notorious, more +abominable, by this neglect. At Surrentum, Arianism had never been +known; no Goth had ever dwelt here; and since Aurelia's arrival +public opinion had had time to gather force against her. It was +believed that she had driven forth with insults the most noble +Petronilla, that exemplar of charity and of a saintly life. Worse +still was the rumour, now generally believed, that the Senator's +daughter had obtained her inheritance by wicked hypocrisy, by a +false show of return to the true faith. Being herself so evil, it +was not to be wondered that she corrupted those who fell under her +influence; the young lord Basil, for instance, who, incredible as it +sounded, was said to be on the point of espousing a Gothic damsel, a +mysterious attendant upon Aurelia, of whom strange stories were +rife. Talk of these things made no little agitation in the town when +ceremonies were over and the coffin had been embarked. The +generality threw up their hands, and cried shame, and asked why the +bishop did not take some action in so grave a scandal. But here and +there folk whispered together in a different tone, with winkings and +lips compressed, and nods significant of menace. Patience! Wait a +day or two, and they would see what they would see. Heaven was not +regardless of iniquity. + +Scarce had the ship weighed anchor, to be wafted across the bay by a +gentle wind, when Petronilla started on her land journey for Rome. +The great chariot, the baggage, the servants riding, made fresh +commotion in Surrentum; many accompanied the great lady along the +winding road until they were weary and their curiosity satisfied. To +this obsequious escort Petronilla uttered certain words which before +evening were repeated throughout the town. 'Let us forgive our +enemies,' she said, with that air of hers, at once so grand and so +devout--'let us forgive our enemies, but let us omit no means, +however rigorous, of saving their souls'; and of those who reported +the saying, some winked and nodded more significantly than ever. + +Just before sunset on this same day there was trampling of hoofs +along the road ascending to the villa, as two horsemen, with a dozen +followers, some on horses, some on mules, rode up. Summoned to the +atrium, Basil greeted the return of Marcian, and looked with +curiosity at the man standing beside him, who could be no other than +Venantius. A tall and comely man, wearing a casque and a light +breastplate, his years not more than thirty, rather slim, yet +evidently muscular and vigorous, he had a look of good-humoured +determination, and the tones in which he replied to Basil's welcome +were those of a born commander. In contrast with his host's +elaborate courtesy, the manners of Venantius might have been judged +a trifle barbarous, but this bluntness was no result of defective +breeding; had he chosen, he could have exchanged lofty titles and +superlatives of compliment with any expert in such fashionable +extravagances, but he chose a plainer speech, in keeping with his +martial aspect. First of all he excused himself for having arrived +with so many followers. + +'But our good Marcian,' he added, clapping a hand on his companion's +shoulder, 'had a story to tell me of a fair lady and fairer +maiden--though not long to bear the name, she--who may belike need +protection as well as honourable attendance; whereas you, noble +Basil, have thought little of the use of arms, and probably keep no +very warlike retinue at command. So I mounted half a dozen bowmen, +who will ride and shoot with any Hun, and as many stout fellows who +can wield lance or throw javelin, and here they are at your gates. +Have no fear for the girls within doors; my men are both sober and +chaste by prudence, if not by nature. There was a time when I had to +make an example here and there'--he scowled a smile--'but now +they know me.' + +Basil replied as became him, not without some slight imitation of +his guest's bluff manliness. Admiring, as he did, above all things, +that which savoured of heroism, he was strongly impressed by +Venantius, whose like, among natives of Rome, he had not yet beheld, +who shone before him, indeed, in a nobler light than any man he had +seen since the days when he worshipped Belisarius. Arrangements were +speedily made for the entertainment of the little armed troop, and +as dusk gathered the host and his two guests sat down to supper. +Whilst the meal was being made ready, Basil had found opportunity of +speech with Aurelia, who heard with great satisfaction of the coming +of Venantius, and promised to receive him early on the morrow. + +'The lady Aurelia's name is not unknown to me,' said Venantius, when +Basil spoke of her at table. He would have added a remark, but +paused with a look at the attendant slaves. 'Her illustrious +father,' he went on, 'I spoke with when I was young. But for the +illness of Maximus I should have ventured hither during this year +gone by, notwithstanding some difference in our view of things; or +rather, to make sure whether there really was as much difference as +I supposed.' + +'Perchance you would have found that there was not,' said Basil. +'Certainly not towards the end.' + +'May his soul repose! He had the bearing which suited with his noble +name--a true Anicius to look upon. If Rome have need in these +times of another breed of citizens--and who can gainsay that?-- +she will not forget such men as he, who lived with dignity when they +could do no more. You, my dear lord'--he turned towards Basil-- +'Anicius though you are, see another way before you, what?' + +They talked far into the night. When he spoke of the Imperial +conquerors--'Greeklings' he called them--Venantius gave vent to +his wrath and scorn. The Goths were right when they asked what had +ever come out of Greece save mimes and pirates; land-thieves they +might have added, for what else were the generals of Justinian with +their pillaging hordes? They dared to speak of the Goths as +barbarians--these Herules, Isaurians, Huns, Armenians, and +Teutons!--of the Goths, whose pride it had so long been to defend +Roman civilisation, and even to restore the Roman edifices. What +commander among them could compare with Totila, brave, just, +generous? + +'By the Holy Mother!' he cried, with a great gesture, 'if I were not +wedded to a wife I love, who has borne me already three boys as +healthy as wolf cubs, I would follow your example, O Basil, and take +to myself a blue-eyed daughter of that noble race. They are +heretics, why yes, but as far as I can make out they pray much as I +do, and by heaven's grace may yet be brought to hold the truth as to +the Three-in-One. When they had the power, did they meddle with our +worship? Let every man believe as he list, say I, so that he believe +sincerely, and trust God against the devil.' + +In the stillness of their secluded abode, Aurelia and Veranilda went +to rest earlier than usual this evening, for they were to arise +before the dawn. This afternoon they had been visited by the black +monk, who announced the return of Sisinnius, and invited them to the +promised mass on the morrow; and such was their agitation in the +foretaste of this religious ecstasy, as well as in the hope of +having their future revealed to them, that neither slept much during +the night. Not long after the crowing of the first cock, when all +was silent and dark, Aurelia stepped, with a lamp in her hand, into +the maiden's chamber. + +'Is it the hour?' whispered Veranilda, raising herself. + +'Not yet. I have had a troubled dream. I dreamt that this night the +holy Sisinnius had fought with the demon, and had been worsted. O +Veranilda!'--the speaker's voice trembled--'what may this mean?' + +'Dearest lady,' answered the other reassuringly, 'may it not be a +temptation of the demon himself; who at times is permitted to tempt +even the holiest?' + +'And you, sweet? You have not dreamt?' + +'Only of Basil,' answered Veranilda, with a smile that asked pardon +for her happiness. + +They talked over the disquieting vision, whilst the little +lamp-flame, wavering in breaths of air, cast strange shadows about +the room. On the walls were faded frescoes, one of which represented +the poetess Proba on her knees before St. Agnes. Impelled by her +fears, Aurelia of a sudden knelt before this picture, and prayed +silently to the virgin martyr. Then Veranilda rose from the couch, +and knelt beside her. Having solaced their souls, they kissed each +other tenderly. + +'You are not afraid,' whispered Veranilda, 'that Basil may be in the +garden when we go forth?' + +'Basil? Ah, little rogue, have you betrayed yourself?' + +'Of a truth, dearest lady, he has been there more than once, but +not, oh not so early!' + +'Nay, I hope not,' said Aurelia. 'It were scarce maidenly--' + +'Never, never before the east had broken for the dayspring! Never, I +swear to you, O my heart's friend!' + +'Then there is small fear of his interrupting us this morning; all +the more that he must have sat late with his friends, talking of +many things. I am glad of the coming of this brave Venantius; it +puts an end to every peril.' + +They conversed on this encouraging theme until Aurelia's ear caught +the sound of a footfall in the gallery. She stepped forth and +encountered a female slave, who told her that there wanted two hours +to dawn; it was time, then, to set forth and a few minutes saw them +ready. In the garden they were met by the watchman, who carried a +lantern. He, having merely been ordered to stand in readiness at +this hour and being ignorant of his mistress's intention, showed +astonishment when he saw Aurelia and her companion bent on going +out. He took it for granted that he was to accompany them. But at +this moment there appeared in the rays of the lantern a black +figure, which had entered by the breach in the wall. Aurelia +whispered a few words to her watchman, whose religion was the same +as hers, and at once he dropped to his knees. + +'Peace be with you, good brother,' said the monk, in his feeble +voice, as he drew a lantern from beneath his cloak. You may not +accompany us; but have no fear. The way is short.' + +Forthwith he turned, and Aurelia, holding Veranilda's hand, followed +where he lighted the way. For a few minutes they pursued a level +path, then, passing between myrtles, began to descend the seaward +slope. The ground was rough, but the monk, going before, marked the +places for their footing. A few minutes thus, and they reached +trees, black against a sky sown with stars and overshimmered by a +wasted moon. Veranilda, who was trembling, clung to her companion's +arm. + +'How much further?' asked Aurelia, striving to make her voice firm. +'This is not the way by which I came before.' + +'Scarce fifty steps. See you not the light yonder?' + +Among the trees was perceptible a faint shining. Hand tight clasped +in hand, the two moved forward over thick herbage, and still +descended. They drew near to the light, and saw that it issued from +a little cave. Within stood a man, bent as if with age and +infirmities, his face half-hidden under a cowl. When the visitors +were near, he stretched forth his arms, murmuring words of welcome, +and the two knelt devoutly before him. + +There was a moment of silence, then the cowled man again spoke, in a +voice firmer and less senile. + +'My daughters, you have come hither through the gloom of night and +over rough places, led by a faithful guide, whom you followed +without doubt or fear. You will have your reward. The darkness, the +stones that made your feet to stumble, what are these but symbols of +your spiritual state? In your blindness, you sought one blind as +yourselves, to follow whom was to walk in darkness eternal. But a +beneficent Power has watched over you, guiding your steps in the +better way, whereof you recked not.' + +Aurelia and Veranilda had raised their heads, and were gazing at +him, in fearful astonishment. + +'Be not troubled,' he went on, taking a step forward and speaking in +a voice strong and clear. 'Though unworthy, I am a priest of the +faith in which you, Aurelia, were baptized. In my hands you will +suffer no harm, no indignity. Be still, be silent. Behind you stand +those who will not permit you to flee, but who will conduct you +hence as if they were your own attendants if you do but follow me, +as you needs must, without cry or resistance.' + +Aurelia turned and saw a number of figures whom the dim light showed +to be men with weapons. A moan of anguish escaped her lips. Clinging +to her in terrified silence, Veranilda seemed about to sink to the +ground. + +'Our way,' pursued the priest, who was now revealed as neither old +nor infirm, 'is down to the harbour. Not far from here a litter +awaits you; summon your strength for the short effort over rugged +ground. Speak words of comfort to this maiden; she also will ere +long walk in the light, and will be grateful to those who rescued +her from the path of destruction. Think not to escape us when we +pass through the city; it were vain to cry aloud; not a man in +Surrentum would raise his hand to release you, knowing, as all do, +that we confine your body only to free your soul from the bonds of +the Enemy.' + +'Whither are you taking us?' asked Aurelia, suddenly commanding +herself, and speaking with cold scorn. + +'That you will know before the evening. Enough for the present that +you will travel without fatigue and without danger. Follow now +whither I lead.' + +He moved forward, and the armed men, half a dozen in number, among +whom stood the black monk, closed about the prisoners. Seeing the +futility of any resistance, Aurelia whispered to her companion such +words of encouragement as she could find, and supported her with her +arms. But Veranilda had overcome the first terror which made her +droop. + +'Basil will find and release us,' she whispered back. 'While he has +life, Basil will not forsake us.' + +And with unfaltering steps she moved onward, holding Aurelia's hand. + +Their path, illumined by lanterns, the guards presently issued from +the wood, and came to the place where the litter was waiting. Hence +the captives were borne rapidly towards the haven. As they entered +the city gates, Aurelia raised the curtain which concealed her, and +looked out at the men on watch; words exchanged between them and her +conductors only confirmed what the priest had said, and made her +understand that she was powerless amid enemies. + +'Are we not to have a look at the Gothic beauty?' cried one fellow, +when the litter was passing. + +'Peace!' answered the priest sternly; and nothing more was said. + +Through the streets they were followed by a few persons. These, +calling to each other, collected at length a small crowd, which hung +about the litter when it reached the place of embarkation. Here +torches were burning; their red glare fell upon angry or mocking +faces, and every moment the crowd increased. With utmost speed the +prisoners were passed into a little boat, then rowed to a vessel +lying at the harbour mouth. As the ship hoisted sail, dawn began to +glimmer over the flank of Vesuvius. + + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +CHORSOMAN + + + + +Fearful of sleeping till after sunrise, Basil had bidden Felix +arouse him this morning; and, as he had much to talk of with +Veranilda, he betook himself to the garden very early. + +Aurelia's watchman was standing without, gazing anxiously now this +way, now that, surprised by his mistress's failure to return; on the +appearance of Basil he withdrew, but only to a spot whence he could +survey the garden. All impatience, the lover waited, as minute after +minute slowly passed. Dawn was broadening to day, but Veranilda came +not. An agony of disappointment seized upon him, and he stood at +length in the attitude of one sickening with despair. Then a +footstep approached, and he saw the slave whose watch he had +relieved come forward with so strange a look that Basil could only +stare at him. + +'My lord,' said the man, 'there is one at the gate of the villa who +brings I know not what news for you.' + +'One at the gate? News?' echoed Basil, his heart sinking with dread +anticipation. 'What mean you, fellow?' + +'Most noble, I know nothing,' stammered the frightened slave 'I +beseech your greatness to inquire. They say--I know not what--' + +Basil sped across the garden and into Aurelia's dwelling. Here he +found a group of servants talking excitedly together; at view of +him, they fell back as if fear-stricken. From one, Aurelia's old +nurse, rose a wail of distress; upon her Basil rushed, grasped her +by the arm, and sternly demanded what had happened. Dropping to her +knees with a shrill cry, the woman declared that Aurelia had +vanished, that some one from the city had seen her carried away +before dawn. + +'Alone?' asked Basil in a terrible voice. + +'Lord, I know not,' wailed the woman, grovelling at his feet. + +'Is Veranilda in her chamber?' he asked violently. + +'Gone!' replied a faint voice from amid the group of servants. + +'Where is this messenger?' + +Without waiting for a reply, he sprang forward. In the portico which +led to the villa he heard his name shouted, and he knew the voice +for Marcian's; another moment and Marcian himself appeared, pale, +agitated. + +'Why do you seek me?' cried Basil. + +'You come from yonder? Have you seen Aurelia? Then it is true.' + +Marcian told the news brought up from Surrentum by some person +unknown, who, having uttered it in the porter's ear, had at once +fled. + +'Go call Venantius,' said Basil, when he had heard the brief story, +'and bring him straight to Aurelia's house. They are gone; that +slinking slave shall tell me how, or I will tear it out of him with +his soul.' + +Back he rushed, and found the nurse still crouching on the floor, +wailing. He made her lead him to her lady's chamber, and to that of +Veranilda, where nothing unusual met their eyes. The watchman was +then summoned; he came like one half dead, and smote the ground with +his forehead before the young noble, who stood hand on dagger. A +fierce interrogatory elicited clear and truthful answers; when Basil +learned what Aurelia had whispered to her servant as she went forth, +he uttered a groan. + +'Marcian! Venantius!' he cried, for at that moment the two entered +the atrium. 'I understand it all. Why had I no fear of this?' + +That Aurelia had been deceived and inveigled by one professing to be +an Arian priest, seemed clear from the watchman's story. For the +originator of the plot, Basil had not far to look. This was the +vengeance of Petronilla. But whither the two captives would be +conveyed, was less easy to conjecture. Perhaps to Cumae. The thought +stung Basil to frenzy, for, if Veranilda once fell into the hands of +the Greeks, what hope had he of ever seeing her again? + +'Did Petronilla know?' he asked of Marcian. + +'Who can say?' answered his friend, easily understanding the +curtailed question. 'Like enough that she had sent to Cumae to learn +all she could; and in that case, she found, you may be sure, ready +instruments of her malice. Were it not better,' Marcian added in an +aside, 'to tell Venantius what danger threatened Veranilda?' + +The warlike Roman, who, aroused on an alarm, had instantly equipped +himself with casque and sword, stood listening to what passed, +sniffing the air and rolling his eyes about as if he desired nothing +better than a conflict. The others now drew him aside into a more +private place, and made known to him their reason for fearing that +the Gothic maiden had been seized by emissaries from Cumae. + +'Had I heard that story before,' said Venantius, all but laughing +with angry surprise, 'Veranilda would now be safe in my castle; for, +instead of lingering, I should have come straightway, to rescue her +and you. Holy Peter and Paul! You sported here, day after day, +knowing that the hounds of Justinian had scent of the maid you +carried away? You, Basil, might commit such folly, for you were +blinded to everything by your love. But, Marcian, how came you to +let him loll in his dream of security? Why did you conceal this from +me? By Castor! it was unfriendly as it was imprudent. You robbed me +of a sweet morsel when you denied me the chance of balking the +Greeks in such a matter as this. Nay, the bird is caged at Cumae, be +sure.' + +Marcian's brows were knit, and his eyes cast down as he listened to +this reproof. + +'I had not thought of Petronilla,' he murmured. 'But for her, the +danger was not pressing. That thick-skulled Hun at Cumae easily let +himself be blinded, as I told you.' + +'How could I forget,' cried Basil, 'that Petronilla would risk +damnation rather than lose her vengeance upon Aurelia But,' he +added, with sudden change from gloom to vehemence, 'that woman is +not beyond our reach. Only yesterday did she set forth for Rome, and +she may have passed the night at Neapolis. A horseman will easily +overtake her. Felix!' he shouted. 'Our horses!--she shall pay for +this if my hands can get at her throat!' + +Felix appeared, but not in answer to his master's summons; he came +precipitately, followed by a swarm of frightened slaves, to announce +another surprise. Before the villa stood a hostile multitude, folk +of Surrentum, who demanded admittance, and, if denied, would enter +by force. At this news Venantius hastened to muster his troop of +archers and spearmen. Basil and Marcian, having made sure that all +entrances were locked and barred, went to the front gate, and +through a wicket surveyed the assailants. These seemed to be mainly +of the baser class; they had armed themselves with all sorts of rude +weapons, which they brandished menacingly, shouting confused +maledictions. From the porter Basil learned that those who had first +presented themselves at the door had demanded that 'the heretics' +should be given up to them; and by listening to the cries, he +understood that the wrath of these people was directed against the +Arian servants brought hither by Aurelia. Through the wicket he held +colloquy with certain leaders of the throng. + +'The heretics! Yield to us the accursed heretics!' shouted a burly +fellow armed with an ox-goad. + +'For what usage?' asked Basil. + +'That's as they choose. If they like to come before the bishop and +turn Christian--why, a little correction shall suffice. If not, +they have only themselves and the devil to blame.' + +By this time Venantius and his retainers stood in the forecourt. To +him, the routing of such a rabble seemed a task not worth speaking +of, but some few would no doubt be slain, and Basil shrank from such +extremities. + +'Would you give up these trembling wretches?' asked Venantius +scornfully, pointing to the four slaves, male and female, Arians +either by origin or by conversion to please Aurelia, whom she had +brought from Cumae. On their knees they were imploring protection. + +'Nay, I will fight for their safety,' Basil answered. 'But if we can +frighten off this tag-rag without bloodshed so much the better.' + +Venantius consented to make the attempt. On the upper villa was an +open gallery looking over the entrance, and fully visible from where +the invaders stood. Hither the armed men ascended and stood in line, +the bowmen with arrows on string. Their lord, advancing to the +parapet, made a signal demanding silence, and spoke in a audible to +every ear in the throng. + +'Dogs! You came on this errand thinking that the villa was +defenceless. See your mistake! Each one of these behind me has more +arrows in store than all your number, and never shot bolt from bow +without piercing the mark. Off! Away with your foul odours and your +yelping throats! And if, when you have turned tail, any cur among +you dares to bark back that I, Venantius of Nuceria, am no true +Catholic, he shall pay for the lie with an arrow through chine and +gizzard!' This threat he confirmed with a terrific oath of +indisputable orthodoxy. + +The effect was immediate. Back fell the first rank of rioters, +pressing against those in the rear; and without another cry, with +only a low, terrified growling and snarling, the crowd scattered in +flight. + +'There again I see Petronilla,' declared Basil, watching the rout +with fierce eyes. 'I'll swear that, before starting, she set this +game afoot. I must after her, Venantius.' + +'Alone?' + +'Mother of God! if I had your men! But I will make soldiers of my +own. Some of the likeliest from our folk here shall follow me; +enough to stay that she-wolf's journey till I can choke the truth +out of her.' + +Venantius, his eyes fixed on the descending road by which the rabble +had disappeared, caught sight of something which held him mute for a +moment. Then he gave a snort of surprise. + +'What's this? There are no Greek soldiers in Surrentum.' + +Yet unmistakable soldiers of the Imperial army were approaching. +First came into sight a commanding officer; he rode a little in +advance of the troop, which soon showed itself to consist of some +two score mounted men, armed with bows and swords. And in the rear +came the rabble of Surrentines, encouraged to return by this arrival +of armed authority. + +'That is Chorsoman,' said Marcian, as soon as he could distinguish +the captain's feature, 'the commander at Cumae.' + +'Then it is not to Cumae that they have carried her!' exclaimed +Basil, surmising at once that the Hun was come in pursuit of +Veranilda. + +'Time enough to think of that,' growled Venantius, as he glared from +under black brows at the advancing horsemen. 'What are we to do? To +resist is war, and this villa cannot be held for an hour. Yet to +yield is most likely to be made prisoners. Marcian!' + +Marcian was watching and listening with a look of anxious thought. +Appealed to for his counsel, he spoke decidedly. + +'Withdraw your men and go down. Resistance is impossible. Chorsoman +must enter, but trust me to manage him. I answer for your liberty.' + +Venantius led his men down to the inner court. Basil, careless of +everything but the thought that Veranilda was being borne far from +him, he knew not whither, went to get horses ready, that he might +pursue Petronilla as soon as the road was free. Marcian, having +spoken with the porter, waited till a thundering at the gate +announced Chorsoman's arrival, then had the doors thrown open, and +stood with a calm smile to meet the commander. + +'Fair greeting to your Magnificence!' he began with courtesy. 'Be +welcome to this villa, where, in absence of its mistress, I take +upon myself to offer you hospitality.' + +Chorsoman had dismounted, and stood with half a dozen of his +followers behind him in the portico. At sight of Marcian his face +became suspicious. + +'By mistress,' he replied gruffly, stepping forward, 'I suppose you +mean the daughter of Maximus. Where is she?' + +Marcian would have continued the conversation within, but the Hun +chose to remain standing in the for-court, the gate wide open. From +the Surrentines he had already heard the story of Aurelia's +disappearance, which puzzled and angered him, for no one professed +to be able to explain what had happened, yet his informants declared +that the Roman lady and the Gothic maiden had been carried away +without the knowledge of the men who were their protectors. This was +now repeated by Marcian, who professed himself overwhelmed by the +event. + +'You have here one Basilius,' said Chorsoman. + +'The same whom your greatness saw on a certain occasion at Cumae.' + +'They tell me he was about to wed with Veranilda. What does that +mean?' + +'An idle rumour,' replied Marcian, 'springing from vulgar gossip, +and from the spiteful anger of the lady sister of Maximus, who hoped +to inherit what has fallen to her niece. Let your valorous +magnificence be assured that there is no truth in it. Can you +imagine that I, whose mission is known to you, should have looked on +at such an audacity? I think your perspicuity will not require +better proof of the powers with which I am intrusted than that I +gave you at Cumae?' + +Of the profound contempt proclaimed, rather than disguised, by +Marcian's extravagant courtesy, Chorsoman had no inkling; but his +barbaric mind resented the complexity of things with which it was +confronted, and he felt a strong inclination to take this +smooth-tongued Latin by the throat, so as to choke the plain truth +out of him. Why, he demanded fiercely, had not Aurelia and her +companion travelled straight on to Rome, as he had been assured they +were to do? + +'For a simple reason,' answered Marcian. 'I judged an escort +necessary, and only yesterday did I obtain it. This very day should +we have set forth.' + +'You speak of one Venantius and his followers--he who just now, I +am told, threatened to massacre the harmless citizens of Surrentum.' + +'I would rather say the most noble Venantius, a senator, but for +whose presence this villa would have been sacked by a thievish +rabble from below.' + +'Let me see him,' said the Hun, his eyes like those of a boar at +bay. + +'Will it please your Illustrious Magnanimity to eat with us?' + +'I will eat when I choose. Fetch here Venantius.' + +Marcian despatched the porter, and in a few moments Venantius +appeared, behind him his armed men. A hand lightly on his sword, as +though he played with the hilt, his head proudly erect, the Roman +noble paused at a few paces from the Hun, and regarded him with bold +steadfastness. + +'You serve the Emperor?' said Chorsoman, somewhat less overbearingly +than he had spoken hitherto. + +'When occasion offers,' was the dry response. + +On the Hun's countenance grew legible the calculation busying his +thought. At a glance he had taken the measure of Venantius, and +gauged the worth of the men behind him. A smile, which could not +mask its cunning, came on to his lips, and all of a sudden he +exchanged his truculence for amiability. + +'Lord Venantius,' he said, laying an open palm on his own breast, +and then motioning with it towards the Roman, 'you and I, two men of +valour, can understand each other in few words. I am no talker'-- +his narrow eyes glanced at Marcian--'nor are you. Tell me, if you +can, what has become of the lady Aurelia and of the Gothic maiden +who attended upon her.' + +'Lord Chorsoman,' replied Venantius, 'I thought it was you who could +have answered that question. The ladies Aurelia and Veranilda have +this morning disappeared, and we judged it likely that they had been +enticed from the villa to be captured and borne to Cumae.' + +'Who should have done that?' + +'Emissaries of your own, we supposed.' + +The Hun reflected. + +'This man of words'--he nodded sideways at Marcian--'spoke of a +woman's malice. Explain to me.' + +Venantius told what he knew of Petronilla's enmity, and the listener +had no difficulty in coming to the conclusion which to Basil had +been evident from the first. It was possible moreover, that Cumae +might be the place to which the captives had been conveyed, for +Chorsoman had left the fortress yesterday to come hither by way of +Neapolis, his reason for the expedition being news of Veranilda's +approaching marriage, brought to him by a fisherman who said he had +been paid by a person unknown. Did Petronilla, he next inquired, +know that Veranilda was to be sent to the East? To this Marcian +replied with a negative, adding: + +'Unless your Illustrious Discretion have seen fit to spread abroad +what I imparted to your private ear.' + +'My tongue is not so loose as yours,' was the Hun's rejoinder. + +Again he reflected, with the result that he decided to send a +messenger at once to Cumae. Until news could be brought back he +should remain here in the villa. This intention he announced in a +tone abundantly significant, his hearers understanding that +Aurelia's property was now in hands not accustomed to relax their +grasp. + +'Lord Venantius,' he added, 'as your escort is no longer needed, you +will wish, no doubt, to return forthwith to your own abode. It will +not be long before you have the occasion you desire of proving your +loyalty to the Emperor. Brave men both, we may presently fight side +by side. Let us sit at table together, and then good-speed!' + +With a haughty glare Venantius heard this dismissal. A reply surged +into his throat, but he swallowed it again, remembering that more +than his personal safety was at stake. + +'You will pardon me, lord,' he replied, 'if I do not stay to break +my fast. I am of impatient humour, and never willingly linger when a +journey is before me.' + +'As you will,' said Chorsoman, with a slight knitting of his brows. +'You ride alone, I suppose?' + +'The lord Basil, who starts for Rome, will give me his company as +far as our ways are one.' + +Chorsoman gave a glance at the soldiers in his rear, then at +Marcian, and smiled grimly. + +'I fear you must go without lord Basil. I shall have need of him.' + +There was a very short silence; then Marcian spoke, with bland +decision. + +'Commander, this cannot be. Basil carries letters of urgency to Rome +and Ravenna; letters which I would not intrust to any one else. Your +Sublimity will see that it is impossible to delay him.' + +Teeth hard set, and eyes aflame, the Hun took a step forward. In the +same instant, Venantius laid a hand upon his sword, and, at the +gesture, his armed men looked to their weapons. + +'Where is this Basil?' demanded Chorsoman. + +'I will let him know if you wish to speak with him,' replied +Marcian. + +'You shall be spared the trouble. Lord Venantius, bid your followers +retire and get their horses ready, whilst you and I go in search of +lord Basil. You will not refuse me your company for a few minutes?' + +Cunning had again subdued the Hun's violence, and discretion +prevailed with the Roman. Together they passed through the atrium, +Chorsoman casting eager glances about him, and to the inner court; +but the followers of Venantius, obedient to a silent order, still +kept their position in face of the Greek soldiers, and this +Chorsoman knew. + +'You understand,' said the Hun, when they were alone together, you, +a brave and honourable man, how my duty to the Emperor obliges me to +act. I, of course, take possession of this villa until Aurelia is +discovered. And, however important his mission, I cannot allow Basil +to depart without some security--you will understand that.' + +The barbarous accent with which these sentences were uttered caused +Venantius almost as much disgust as the plundering purpose they +avowed. + +'What security?' he asked. + +Chorsoman named a large sum of money. As he spoke, Basil himself +appeared; and with brief preface, the matter under debate was +reported to him. He glanced at Venantius but could find no counsel +in the dark, stern face. Foreseeing the result of the Hun's visit, +Basil had hastened to conceal on his own person a considerable +weight of coin, and had intrusted something like the same amount to +Felix. In the treasure chamber lay a mass of wealth now belonging to +Aurelia, and the mere fact of this being under lock and key by no +means secured it against the commander's greed. Marcian came +forward, and hearing the talk of ransom, endeavoured to awe the Hun +into moderation, but with less success than he had had at Cumae. So +he led Basil aside, told him of the messenger sent to Cumae, as well +as of the inventions by which Chorsoman had been beguiled, and +counselled mere inaction until news came. Marcian then inquired of +the commander whether, in case Veranilda were found at Cumae, he +would permit her to be sent on to Rome under the escort already +provided; but to this Chorsoman vouchsafed no direct reply: he would +consider the matter. + +Negotiations had reached this point when new visitors arrived, the +Bishop of Surrentum and presbyter Joannes. Though suffering much, +the good bishop had risen from bed as soon as the exciting events of +this morning had reached his ear His innocence of complicity in the +plot against Aurelia and Veranilda, no one who saw him could doubt; +with astonishment he had heard of the priests and their armed +attendants, and with indignation of the citizens' tumultuous +behaviour. What right or reason had folk to proclaim that Aurelia +was still a heretic, and that she should not have been allowed to +inherit property? Who, he asked severely, could read her heart? And +when inquiry made it too certain that all this angry feeling had +originated with Petronilla, the prelate shook his head sadly, +thinking more than he cared to say. Arrived at the villa, he first +of all learnt all he could as to the position of things (declaring +total ignorance when the Hun sought to examine him as to the +relations of Basil and Veranilda), then made earnest inquiry whether +there really were slaves here who professed Arianism. The four were +summoned; overcome with dread, they prostrated them selves, and +entreated the bishop to make them Catholics Having heard from them +that they all had been baptized (the Roman Church held the baptism +of Arians valid), he sent them apart for summary instruction by +Joannes, and afterwards laid his reconciling hands upon them. Thus +had the Church gained four members, and the good folk of Surrentum +lost a heretic-baiting. + +With the proceedings of the Imperial commander the worthy cleric +could not interfere. He spoke privately with Basil, and betrayed, in +a gentle severity of mien, his suspicion of the young noble's state +of mind, but of this not a word fell from him; his concern seemed to +be solely with the lady Aurelia, regarding whom he would set every +possible inquiry on foot. He advised Basil not to leave the +neighbourhood for a day or two, and to communicate with him before +he went far. Gratefully Basil kissed the old man's hand. They never +met again. A week later the bishop was dead. + +After all, Venantius sat at table with Chorsoman. Fuming, he waited +till the next morning, when, if the news could be believed, it +became certain that Aurelia and her companion were not at Cumae. +Basil, having no choice, then paid for ransom nearly all the money +he had secreted, and rode away with Venantius, purposing to remain +at Nuceria until joined by Marcian. Three days later Marcian +appeared at the castle He brought no intelligence of the lost +ladies. As for their abode, it had been thoroughly pillaged; the +treasure chamber was discovered and broken open; not a coin, not a +vessel or ornament which had its price, not a piece of silk, had +escaped the clutches of the Hun. + +Chorsoman's departure was followed by an invasion of the +Surrentines, who robbed more grossly. A fire broke out in the house +of Proba, and much of that building was destroyed. In the once +magnificent villa there lurked but a few slaves, who knew not +whether their owner lived. + + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE ANICIANS + + + + +Not many days after, in a still noontide of mellow autumn, Basil and +Marcian drew towards Rome. They rode along the Via Appia, between +the tombs of ancient men; all about them, undulant to the far +horizon, a brown wilderness dotted with ruins. Ruins of villas, of +farms, of temples, with here and there a church or a monastery that +told of the newer time. Olives in scant patches, a lost vineyard, a +speck of tilled soil, proved that men still laboured amid this vast +and awful silence, but rarely was a human figure visible. As they +approached the city, marshy ground and stagnant pools lay on either +hand, causing them to glance sadly at those great aqueducts, which +for ages had brought water into Rome from the hills and now stood +idle, cleft by the Goths during the siege four years ago. + +They rode in silence, tired with their journey, occupied with heavy +or anxious thoughts. Basil, impatient to arrive, was generally a +little ahead. Their attendants numbered half a dozen men, among them +Felix and Sagaris, and two mules laden with packs came in the rear. +Earthworks and rough buildings of military purpose, again recalling +the twelve months' blockade, presently appeared; churches and +oratories told them they were passing the sacred ground of the +catacombs; then they crossed the little Almo, rode at a trot along a +hollow way, and saw before them the Appian Gate. Only a couple of +soldiers were on guard; these took a careless view of the +travellers, and let them pass without speaking. + +Marcian rode up to his friend's side, and spoke softly. + +'You have promised to be advised by me.' + +Basil answered only with a dull nod. + +'I will see her to-day,' continued the other, 'and will bring you +the news before I sleep.' + +'Do so.' + +No more words passed between them. On their left hand they saw the +Thermae of Caracalla, their external magnificence scarce touched by +decay, but waterless, desolate; in front rose the Caelian, covered +with edifices, many in ruin, and with neglected or altogether wild +gardens; the road along which they went was almost as silent as that +without the walls. Arrived at a certain point, the two looked at +each other and waved a hand; then Marcian, with Sagaris and one +other servant, pushed forward, whilst Basil, followed by the rest of +the train, took an ascending road to the right. + +The house in which he was born, and where he alone now ruled, stood +on the summit of the Caelian. Before it stood the ruined temple of +Claudius, overlooking the Flavian Amphitheatre; behind it ranged the +great arches of the Neronian aqueduct; hard by were the round church +of St. Stephen and a monastery dedicated to St. Erasmus. By a +narrow, grass-grown road, between walls overhung with ivy, Basil +ascended the hill; but for the occasional bark of a dog, nothing +showed that these buildings of old time were inhabited; and when he +drew rein before his own portico, the cessation of the sound of +hoofs made a stillness like that among the Appian sepulchres. +Eyeless, hoary, with vegetation rooted here and there, the front of +the house gave no welcome. Having knocked, Basil had to wait for +some moments before there came a sign of opening. With drooped head, +he seemed to watch the lizards playing in the sunshine upon a marble +column. + +A wicket opened, and at once there sounded from within an +exclamation of joyful surprise. After much clanking, the door +yielded, and an elderly servant, the freedman Eugenius, offered +greeting to his lord. Basil's first question was whether Decius had +been there; he learnt that his kinsman was now in the house, having +come yesterday to reside here from the Anician palace beyond the +Tiber. + +'Tell him at once that I am here. Stay; I dare say he is in the +library. I will go to him.' + +He passed through the atrium, adorned with ancestral busts and with +the consular fasces which for centuries had signified nothing, +through a room hung with tapestry and floored with fine mosaic, +through the central court, where the fountain was dry, and by a +colonnade reached the secluded room which was called library, though +few books remained out of the large collection once guarded here. In +a sunny embrasure, a codex open on his knees, sat the pale student; +seeing Basil, he started up in great surprise, and, when they had +embraced, regarded him anxiously. + +'How is this? What has happened? Some calamity, I see.' + +'Seek some word, O Decius, to utter more than that. I have suffered +worse than many deaths.' + +'My best, my dearest Basil!' murmured the other tenderly. 'You have +lost her?' + +'Lost her? yes; but not as you mean it. Is Petronilla in Rome?' + +'She arrived the day before yesterday, two hours after sunset.' + +'And you have seen her, talked with her?' + +'I was at the house yonder when she came.' + +'And she behaved ill to you?' asked Basil. + +'Far from that, Petronilla overwhelmed me with affection and +courtesy. I knew not,' proceeded Decius smiling, 'how I had all at +once merited such attention. I came away merely because this +situation better suits my health. Down by the river I have never +been at ease. But let me hear what has befallen you.' + +Basil told his story, beginning with the explanation of Veranilda's +importance in the eyes of the Greek commander. After learning from +the Hun that nothing was known of the lost ladies at Cumae, he had +impatiently lingered for three days in the castle of Venantius, on +the chance that Marcian might be able to test the truth of +Chorsoman's report; but his friend made no discovery, and in despair +he set out for Rome. To all this Decius listened with wonder and +with sympathy. He had no difficulty in crediting Petronilla with +such a plot, but thought she could scarce have executed it without +the help of some one in authority. Such a person, he added +cautiously, as a deacon of the Roman Church. Hereupon Basil +exclaimed that he and Marcian had had the same suspicion. + +'I will find her,' he cried, 'if it cost me my life! And I will be +revenged upon those who have robbed me of her. She may at this +moment be in Rome. The ship that carried. her off was large enough, +they say, to make the voyage, and winds have been favourable. My +good Decius, I am so overcome with misery that I forget even to ask +how you sped on the sea.' + +'A smooth and rapid voyage. I had only time to reperuse with care +the _Silvae_ of Statius--his Epicedion being appropriate to my +mood. Arrived at Portus, I sent a post to those who awaited the +ship's coming, and the remains of Maximus were brought with all due +honour to their resting place.' + +'Was the deacon Leander here to receive you?' asked Basil. + +'I learnt that he had not yet been heard of.' + +They exchanged a significant look, and Basil remarked that he would +soon discover the deacon's movements since his leaving Surrentum. +Marcian was even now on his way to visit Petronilla, and would come +with news this evening. + +'If I could know,' he cried, 'whether she has been delivered to the +Greeks, or is kept imprisoned by that Megaera! It may be that +Petronilla is ignorant of what I have told you; yet, if so, I fear +she will soon learn it, for Chorsoman will write--if the barbarian +can write--to Bessas, and cannot but mention her. There are +prisons in Rome for those who offend the tyrant of Byzantium.' + +'It troubles me to hear you say that,' said Decius, with an anxious +glance. + +'I, too, may be in peril, you think,' replied his kinsman gloomily. +'True, all the more that I am known to have just inherited. Bessas +takes a peculiar interest in such people. Be that as it will. Let us +turn for a moment to other things.' + +They spoke of the duties that had to be discharged by Basil as his +uncle's heir. On the morrow he must assemble such of his kinsfolk as +were in Rome, and exhibit to them the testament. Aurelia's part in +it would of course excite discussion, perhaps serious objection; +whereas her disappearance would probably be regarded as a matter of +small moment, and Petronilla, even if suspected, could count on +sympathy. When he left the library, Basil found all the members of +his household, from the old nurse Aguella, whose privilege it was to +treat him with motherly affection, to the men who groomed his horse, +assembled outside to give him welcome. His character and bearing +were such as earn the good-will of dependents; though proud and +impatient, he never behaved harshly, and a service well rendered +often had its recognition. Among the young men of his rank, he was +notable for temperance in pleasures; his slaves regarded him as +above common temptations of the flesh, and, though this might be a +loss to them in one way, they boasted of it when talking to the +slaves of masters less exceptional. Having learnt from Felix that +their lord was heir of Maximus, the servants received him with even +more than wonted respect. One of them was the steward of his estate +in Picenum, who had arrived at Rome a few days ago; with him Basil +had private talk, received money which the man had brought, heard of +the multitudinous swine in his oak forest, and of the yield of his +fruit trees. That strip of the Adriatic coast south of Ancona had +always been famous for its pears and apples, and choice examples of +the fruit lay on Basil's table to-day. When he had supped, he +anxiously awaited the coming of Marcian. It was two hours after +nightfall before his friend appeared, having come in a litter, with +torch-bearing attendants, from the Palatine, where he had supped +with Bessas, the Greek commander. + +The news he brought was disquieting. Bessas had just received +despatches from Cumae, which acquainted him with the story of +Veranilda's disappearance, so far as it was known to Chorsoman; he +wore a heavy brow about the business, swore that the Gothic damsel +should be found, if it cost the skins of all who had had anything to +do with her. + +'I partly soothed the brute,' concluded Marcian, 'by telling him +that Petronilla was within such easy reach. Her he will summon +to-morrow.' + +'You promised to see her,' said Basil impatiently. + +'Do I often break my promises? I saw her before going even to my own +house, with the dust of the journey still upon me.' + +'Ever kind Marcian?' + +'Why so hasty to think me less than kind?' returned the other, with +his smile of sad irony. 'I saw her, though with difficulty. She kept +me waiting like an importunate poor kinsman, and when I was +received, she sat like the Empress giving audience. I did not touch +the earth with my forehead; nay, I stood looking at her with a look +she did not easily bear. That she is guilty, I am sure; I read +triumph in her eyes as soon as I spoke of Aurelia. That she would +deny all knowledge of the affair was only to be expected. Moreover, +she has taken possession of the great house yonder, and declares +that Aurelia, as a heretic, can claim nothing under her father's +will. You, of course, the heir, can expel her, if you think it worth +the trouble. But let us see the result of her conversation with +Bessas. She smiled disdainfully when I mentioned his name, and tried +to continue smiling when I carelessly explained the interest he had +in finding Veranilda; but she was frightened, I heard it in her +hoarse voice when she began to speak evil of Veranilda.' + +'What!' cried Basil. 'Evil of Veranilda!' + +'Such as naturally comes to the tongue of an angry woman.' + +The lover raged, Marcian listening with a sad, half-absent look. +Their talk continued for a long time, arid, because of the lateness +of the hour, Marcian stayed to sleep in his friend's house. Before +sunrise on the morrow, Basil sent forth his invitations to all of +the Anician blood in Rome. The first to respond was Gordianus, whose +dwelling on the Clivus Scauri stood but a few minutes' walk away. +Though but a little older than Basil, Gordian had been for several +years a husband and a father; he was in much esteem for his worldly +qualities, and more highly regarded for the fervour of his religious +faith. A tall, handsome, dignified man, he looked straight before +him with frank eyes, and his lips told of spirit tempered by +kindliness. Between him and his relative no great intimacy existed, +for their modes of life and of thought were too dissimilar, but each +saw the good in the other, and was attracted by it. Not long ago +Gordian had conceived the project of giving his young sister +Aemiliana as wife to Basil. Maximus favoured this design, but his +nephew showed no eagerness to carry it out, and Roman gossip +presently found a reason for that. Among the leaders of fashion and +of pleasure--for fashion and pleasure did not fail to revive in +Rome soon after the horrors of the siege--shone a lady named +Heliodora, the Greek wife of a little-respected senator, who, +favoured by Bessas, rose to the position of City Prefect. With +Heliodora's character rumour made very free; the captives of her +beauty were said to be numerous, and one of the names mentioned by +those who loved such scandal was that of the young Basil. Gordian, +finding that there was some ground for this suspicion, spoke no more +of the suggested marriage, and it was at his instance that Maximus, +ill in Campania, summoned Basil away from the city. Reports from +Surrentum gave reason to hope that this measure had succeeded. But +to-day, as he entered Basil's house, Gordian's face wore a troubled +look, and there was no warmth in his response to the greeting which +met him. + +'You have sent for me, my dear lord,' he began with grave and +distant courtesy, 'to speak of the matter of your inheritance. +Forgive me if I first of all ask you a question--of more intimate +concern. Is it true that you have taken a wife?' + +Basil, in whom fatigue and misery had left little patience, began +quivering in every nerve, and made blunt answer: + +'It is not true, arid she who told you contrived the lie.' + +'You speak of the lady Petronilla,' pursued Gordian gently. 'Can I +think that she has wilfully deceived me?' + +'Think it not, my lord Gordian,' returned the other; 'if Petronilla +told you I was married, she lied.' + +'That is strange indeed. Listen, I pray you, to the story heard in +Rome since Petronilla returned. It is right that you should hear it +just as it comes from her own lips.' + +Thereupon Gordian repeated a narrative which would have been +substantially true had it not crowned Basil's love with marriage. +The listener, shaken with violent passion, could scarce wait till +the end. + +'And now hear _me_,' he cried. 'If I were prudent, I also should +lie, for the truth may be dangerous. But you shall know it, O +Gordian, and if you choose to harm me--' + +The other raised a hand, and so full of dignity was this gesture, so +solemn the look which accompanied it, that Basil's vehemence felt +itself rebuked; he grew silent and listened. + +'Basil, check your tongue, which I see will be your greatest peril. +Do not confide in me, for I know not whether I can respect your +confidence. Let us speak of other things.' + +The younger man stood for a moment in hesitancy, his cheeks aflame, +his eyes fiercely gleaming. + +'As you will,' he exclaimed, mastering himself. 'When the others are +here, you will learn all that it concerns you to know. Remember, +Gordian, that I would have opened my heart to you, for, whatever I +said, I know well that you are no betrayer. As for that woman--' + +He was interrupted by the arrival of several persons, old and young, +who appeared in answer to his summons. Having received them with +colder courtesy than was natural to him, Basil produced the +testament of Maximus, and submitted it to his kinsmen's inspection. +The tablets passed from hand to hand; the signatures and seals of +the seven witnesses were examined, the contents read and discussed. +Meanwhile guests continued to arrive, until a considerable +gathering, which included several ladies, had assembled in the great +hall. Here was represented all that deemed itself best and most +illustrious in the society of Rome. More came than were expressly +invited; for, beyond the legitimate interest of the occasion, +curiosity had been aroused by the gossip of Petronilla, and some +whose connection with the Anician house was of the very slightest, +hastened to present themselves at Basil's door. Hither came men +whose names recalled the glories of the Republic; others who were +addressed by appellations which told of Greek dominion; alike they +claimed the dignity of Roman optimates, and deemed themselves +ornaments of an empire which would endure as long as the world. +Several ranked as senators; two or three were ex-consuls; ten years +ago the last consul of Rome had laid down his shadowy honours; one +had held the office of Praetorian Prefect when Theodoric was king; +yet, from the political point of view, all were now as powerless as +their own slaves. Wealth a few of them still possessed, but with no +security; a rapacious Byzantine official, the accident of war, might +at any moment strip them of all they had. For the most part they had +already sunk to poverty, if not to indigence; among these +aristocratic faces were more than one which bore the mark of +privation. Those who had little means or none lived as parasites of +more fortunate relatives; though beggars, they housed in palaces-- +palaces, it is true, which had often no more comfort within their +marble walls than the insulae where the ignoble laid their heads. + +When all had perused the will, Basil rose up and addressed them. He +began by a seemingly careless allusion to the tattle about himself, +which, as it appeared, had been started in Rome by some one who +wished him ill. The serious matter of which he had to speak regarded +the daughter of Maximus. No one here, of course, would be inclined +to take up the defence of Aurelia, whose history was known to all, +he would merely make known to them that after having abjured her +religious errors, and when living quietly in the Surrentine villa, +she had been treacherously seized and carried off he knew not +whither. It was not difficult to surmise by whom this plot had been +laid, but he would leave that point for his hearers' discussion. Him +it chiefly concerned to make known the strange facts so far as he +knew them; and this he proceeded to do. Basil concluded with +sarcastic reference to the possibility that he, as heir, might be +openly or secretly suspected of having laid hands upon Aurelia; that +point also he left to be debated by such as thought it worth while. + +Only some two or three of those who listened had any personal +interest in the will, and few cared at all for the fate of Aurelia; +but the lady at whom Basil's innuendo pointed enjoyed no great +favour, and her absence from this family gathering made it possible +to discuss with all freedom the likelihood of her culpability. At +Basil himself no suspicion glanced, but the rumour of his marriage +with a Goth had excited much curiosity, hardly appeased by a whisper +that Gordian declared the story false. Having spoken all he thought +fit to say, Basil was going apart with the persons to whom legacies +had been left, he, as heir, being charged with the execution of the +will, when Gordian approached him, and begged for a word in private. + +'I would not have you think me unkind, dear Basil,' he said, in a +gentle voice. 'It was neither the place nor the moment to hear +secrets from you, and I am glad now that I refused to listen; but be +assured that I put faith in what you have declared to us.' + +'It is well, dear Gordian,' replied Basil frankly. + +'One word I will add,' continued the other. 'If you are troubled +about things of the world, if you lack counsel such as you think a +friend might give, delay not in coming to me. I should not speak +thus confidently did I speak of myself alone; but there is one ever +at my side, who with her wisdom--sometimes I think it divinely +bestowed--supplies the weakness of my own understanding. Guided by +her, I cannot counsel you amiss.' + +They parted with an embrace, and Basil turned to the business of the +moment. This occupied him until nearly mid-day. As he took leave of +the last of his guests, there entered Marcian; his coming surprised +Basil, for they had parted at early morning not to meet again before +the morrow. + +'I bring you an invitation,' said Marcian, in a careless tone, which +was not quite natural. 'It is to the Palatine, after dinner.' + +'To the Palatine? I am summoned by Bessas?' + +'In a friendly way. Have no anxiety. Petronilla has been examined +this morning, and, from what I can gather, she seems to have +betrayed herself. Bessas wore the smile which means that he has +over-reached somebody.' + +'Then we shall find her,' exclaimed Basil. + +'They will find her, I doubt not,' was the reply. + +The meal being ready, they sat down to eat together, but their +appetite was small. Decius, who had wearied himself this morning in +finding discreet answers to the questions with which he was +privately assailed by his kinsfolk, did not come to table. Having +dined, Basil and his friend set forth on foot, half a dozen servants +walking behind them. Midway in the descent of the Caelian, they were +met by an odd procession: a beautiful boy of some twelve years old, +clad in yellow, riding upon a small white ass with rich housings, +and behind him three slaves, dark-visaged men of the East, on mules +of great size, caparisoned with yellow cloth, to which hung +innumerable tinkling bells. At sight of Basil, the child drew rein; +jumped down, and ran forward with smiling demonstrations of respect. + +'What is it, Laetus?' asked Basil, with no welcome upon his sombre +countenance. 'I cannot talk with you now.' + +The boy, who had been sold into slavery from the far island of the +Angles, did but smatter the Roman tongue. With a few words to +signify that his message was important, he delivered a letter, and +Basil, turning aside impatiently, broke the seal. Upon the blank +side of a slip of papyrus cut from some old manuscript were written +lines which seemed to be in Greek, and proved to be Latin in Greek +characters, a foppery beginning to be used by the modish at Rome. + +'Heliodora to Basil. You are bidden to supper. Come if you will. If +you come not, I care not.' + +'Say that I gave you no reply,' were Basil's blunt words, as he +walked on past the ass and the mules. + + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +SEEKING + + + + +They passed beneath the walls of the amphitheatre and by +Constantine's triumphal arch. Like all the innumerable fountains of +the city, the Meta Sudans stood dry; around the base of the rayed +colossus of Apollo, goats were browsing. Thence they went along by +the Temple of Venus and Rome, its giant columns yet unshaken, its +roof gleaming with gilded bronze; and so under the Arch of Titus, +when, with a sharp turn to the left, they began the ascent of the +Palatine. + +The vast buildings which covered the Imperial hill, though +discoloured by the lapse of ages and hung with ivy, had suffered +little diminution of their external majesty; time had made them +venerable, but had not shattered their walls. For two centuries and +a half, they had stood all but desolate, and within that time had +thrice been sacked by barbarians, yet something of the riches and +art which made their ancient glory was still discoverable in the +countless halls and chambers; statues, busts, mural paintings, +triumphs of mosaic, pictured hangings, had in many parts escaped the +spoiler and survived ruin; whilst everywhere appeared the +magnificence of rare stones, the splendours of royal architecture, +the beauty of unsurpassed carving. Though owls nested where +empresses were wont to sleep, and nettles pierced where the lord of +the world feasted his courtiers, this was still the Palace of those +who styled themselves Ever August; each echo seemed to repeat an +immortal name, and in every gallery seemed to move the shadows of a +majestic presence. + +Belisarius had not resided here, preferring for his abode the palace +of the Pincian. His successor in the military government of Rome +chose a habitation on the deserted hill, in that portion of its +complex structures which had been raised by Vespasian and his sons. +Thither the two visitors were now directing their steps. Having +passed a gateway, where Marcian answered with a watchword the +challenge of the guard, they ascended a broad flight of stairs, and +stood before an entrance flanked with two great pillars of Numidian +marble, toned by time to a hue of richest orange. Here stood +soldiers, to whom again the password was given. Entering, they +beheld a great hall, surrounded by a colonnade of the Corinthian +order, whereon had been lavished exquisite carving; in niches behind +the columns stood statues in basalt, thrice the size of life, +representing Roman emperors, and at the far end was a tribune with a +marble throne. This, once the hall of audience, at present served as +a sort of antechamber; here and there loitered a little group of +citizens, some of whom had been waiting since early morning for +speech with the commander; in one corner, soldiers played at dice, +in another a notary was writing at a table before which stood two +ecclesiastics. Voices and footsteps made a faint, confused +reverberation under the immense vault. + +Anxiously glancing about him, Basil followed his conductor across +the hall and out into a peristyle, its pavement richly tesselated, +and the portico, still elaborately adorned with work in metal and in +marble, giving proof of still greater magnificence in bygone time; +pedestals had lost their statues, and blank spaces on the wall told +of precious panelling torn off. Beyond, they came to a curtained +doorway, where they were detained for some moments by the sentry; +then the curtain was drawn aside, and Basil found himself in the +triclinium of the Flavian palace, now used by the Greek general as +his public reception room. Its size was not much less than that of +the hall of audience; its decoration in the same grandiose style. +Enormous pillars of granite supported the roof; statues stood, or +had stood, all around; the pavement, composed of serpentine, +porphyry, and Numidian marble in many hues, was a superb work of +art. But Basil saw only the human figures before him. In a chair +covered with furs sat a man of middle age, robust, +fair-complexioned, with a keen look in his pale blue eyes and +something of the wolfish about his mouth. Bessas had long ago given +proof of valour, and enjoyed repute as a general, but since his +holding command in Rome, his vices, chief of which was avarice, +showed much more prominently than the virtues which had advanced +him; he used the Imperial authority chiefly to enrich himself, in +this respect, it is true, merely acting in harmony with the +Emperor's representative at Ravenna, and with: the other Greek +generals scattered about Italy, but exhibiting in his methods a +shrewdness and an inhumanity not easily rivalled. Behind his chair +stood several subordinates, and on a stool before him sat a noble +recently arrived as envoy from Byzantium. + +Having been previously instructed as to his behaviour in this +redoubtable presence, Basil followed the example of Marcian in +approaching with bent head to within a distance of three paces, then +dropping to his knees, and bowing so as almost to touch the ground +with his forehead. He heard a gruff voice command him to rise. + +'So this is the heir of the Senator Maximus,' said Bessas, much as +he might have spoken of viewing a horse that interested him. 'What +is his name?' + +'Basilius, my lord,' replied Marcian, with grave respect. + +'And what is he doing? Why does not a limber lad like that serve the +Emperor?' + +'Your Magnanimity will recollect that the lord Basil had permission +to attend Maximus into Campania, whence he is but now returned.' + +'Can't he speak for himself?' growled Bessas, turning sharply upon +Marcian. 'You have a tongue, lord Basil? Do you only use it among +the wenches?' + +A subdued laugh sounded behind the commander's chair. The envoy from +Byzantium showed more discreet appreciation of the jest. And Basil, +his head bowed, would fain have concealed a face burning with angry +shame. + +'I will do my best,' he replied in a steady voice, 'to answer any +question your excellence may put to me.' + +'Come, that's better,' said the general, with that affectation of +bluff good-nature which always veiled his designs. 'I like the look +of you, my good Basil; who knows but we may be friends? By the bye, +was there not some special reason for your coming to see me?' + +'Your excellence summoned me.' + +'Yes, yes, I remember. That affair of the Gothic wench.' Bessas +checked himself, glanced at the envoy, and corrected his phrase. +'The Gothic lady, I would say, who has somehow been spirited out of +sight. What can you tell us of her, lord Basil? It has been +whispered to me that if you cannot lead us to this beauty's +hiding-place, nobody can.' + +Basil answered in the only way consistent with prudence: he not only +denied all knowledge of where Veranilda was to be found, but spoke +as though her fate had little or no interest for him, whereas he +professed himself greatly troubled by the disappearance of his +cousin Aurelia. It seemed that Petronilla did not purpose delivering +Veranilda to the Greeks. Perhaps she did not yet understand the +import of their inquiry. That it was she who held Veranilda prisoner +he had less doubt than ever, and boldly he declared his conviction. +But even, whilst speaking, he thought with dread of the possibility +of Veranilda's being delivered to Bessas; for who could assure him +that this sinister-looking Thracian would respect the mandate +received from Byzantium? On the other hand, who could say to what +sufferings and perils his beloved was exposed whilst Petronilla's +captive? He preferred the risks to follow upon her surrender. Did he +but know where she was there would at least be a hope of rescuing +her. + +'By Christ!' exclaimed Bessas, when he had listened intently to all +Basil's replies, 'this is a strange business. I begin to think, +excellent lord Basil, that you are as much deceived in your +suspicions of the lady Petronilla as she is in her suspicions of +you. These two wenches--ladies, I would say--may have reasons of +their own for hiding; or somebody of whom you know nothing may have +carried them off. How is this Aurelia to look upon? Young and +comely, I warrant.' + +Basil briefly described his cousin; whereupon the listener gave a +shrug. + +'We will talk of it again, to-morrow or the day after. Hold yourself +in readiness, lord Basil--you hear?--to come when bidden. And, +hark you, bring the senator's will, that I may look it over myself. +Trust me, I will see that this lady Aurelia suffers no wrong; if +necessary, I will myself hold her property in trust. They tell me +she is a heretic--that must be inquired into. But take no thought +for the matter, my good Basil; trust me, you shall be relieved from +all responsibilities. Go in peace!' + +Bessas rose, impatient to have done with business. In the little +hippodrome, hard by, an entertainment had been prepared for this +afternoon: female equestrians were to perform perilous feats; there +was to be a fight between a man and a boar; with other trifles, such +as served to pass the time till dinner. In the entrance hall waited +messengers from Ravenna, who for hours had urgently requested +audience; but, partly because he knew that their despatches would be +disagreeable, in part because he liked playing at royalty, the +commander put them off till to-morrow. Even so did he postpone an +inspection of a certain part of the city wall, repeatedly suggested +to him by one of his subordinates. Leisure and accumulation of +wealth were obscuring the man's soldierly qualities. He gave little +heed to the progress of the war, and scoffed at the fear that Totila +might ere long march against Rome. + +Basil walked in gloomy silence. The interview had inflamed his +pride. Mentally he repeated the oath never to acquiesce in this +Byzantine tyranny, and he burned for the opportunity of open war +against it. When they were at a safe distance from the Palatine, +Marcian warned his friend against the Greek's indulgent manner; let +him not suppose that Bessas spoke one word sincerely. + +'His aim at present, I see, is to put you off your guard; and +doubtless he is playing the like game with Petronilla. You will be +spied upon, day and night--I myself, you understand, being one of +the spies, but only one, unfortunately. This Thracian is not so easy +to deal with as the Hun at Cumae. There have been moments when I +thought he suspected me. If ever I vanish, Basil--' + +He ceased with a significant look. + +'Why does Totila delay?' exclaimed Basil, with a passionate gesture. + +'He delays not. It is wisdom to conquer Campania before coming +hither. Another month will see him before Neapolis.' + +'Could I but find Veranilda, make her my own, and put her in safety, +I would go straight to the king's camp, and serve him as best I +might.' + +Marcian looked steadily at the speaker, smiling strangely. + +'Why do you look at me so?' cried Basil. 'You doubt me? You distrust +my courage?' + +'Not for a moment. But why should this depend upon the finding of +Veranilda, my best Basil? Having found her, having made her your +own, will it be easier than now to take your chance of death or of +captivity? When was a Roman wont to let his country's good wait upon +his amorous desire?' + +They were on the Sacred Way, between the Basilica of Constantine and +the Atrium of Vesta. Struck to the heart by his friend's words, +words such as Marcian had never yet addressed to him, Basil stood +mute and let his eyes wander: he gazed at the Forum, at the temples +beyond it, at the Capitol with its desecrated sanctuary of Jupiter +towering above. Here, where the citizens once thronged about their +business and their pleasure, only a few idlers were in view, a few +peasants with carts, and a drove of bullocks just come in from the +country. + +'You would have me forget her?' he said at length, in a voice +distressfully subdued. + +'I spoke only as I thought.' + +'And your thought condemned me--despised me, Marcian?' + +'Not so. Pitied you rather, as one whose noble nature has fallen +into trammels. Have you not long known, O Basil, how I think of the +thing called love?' + +'Because you have never known it!' exclaimed Basil. 'My love is my +life. Having lost Veranilda, I have lost myself; without her I can +do nothing. Were she dead I could fling myself into the struggle +with our enemies, all the fiercer because I should care not whether +I lived or died; but to lose her thus, to know that she may be in +Rome, longing for me as I for her--to think that we may never hold +each other's hands again--oh, it tears my heart, and makes me weak +as a child. You cannot understand me; you have never loved!' + +'May such knowledge be far from me!' said Marcian, with unwonted +vehemence. 'Do you feel no shame in being so subdued to the flesh?' + +'Shame? Shame in the thought that I love Veranilda?' + +Marcian seemed to make an effort to control a passion that wrought +in him; he was paler than of wont, and, instead of the familiar +irony, a cold, if not cruel, austerity appeared in his eyes and on +his lips. He shunned Basil's astonished gaze. + +'Let us not speak of this,' broke from him impatiently. 'You +understand me as little as I you. Forgive me, Basil--I have been +talking idly--I scarce know what I said. It is sometimes thus with +me. Something takes hold upon me, and I speak at random. Come, come, +dear friend of my heart, we will find your Veranilda; trust me, we +will.' + +Three days went by, then Basil was summoned again to the Palatine, +where he had an interview with Bessas alone. This time the commander +hardly spoke of Veranilda; his talk was of the possessions left by +Maximus, whose testament, when he had read it, he said that he would +take care of until the lost daughter was discovered; he inquired +closely, too, as to Basil's own wealth, and let fall a remark that +the Roman nobles would soon be called upon to support the army +fighting for their liberties against the barbarians. When next +called, let Basil have ready and bring with him an exact statement +of the money in his hands, and of the income he expected to derive +from his property during the present year. Thereupon he was +dismissed with a nod and a smile, which made him quiver in rage for +an hour after. This happened in early morning. The day was overcast, +and a cold wind blew from the mountains; Basil had never known such +misery as fell upon him when he re-entered his gloomy, silent house. +On the way home he had passed two funerals--their hurried aspect +proving that the dead were victims of the plague, that _lues +inguinaria_ which had broken out in Italy two years ago, and with +varying intensity continued throughout the land. Throwing himself +down upon a couch, he moaned in utter wretchedness, fearful of the +pestilence, yet saying to himself that he cared not if it seized +upon him. His moans became sobs; he wept for a long time, then lay, +half soothed by the burst of hysterical passion, with eyes turned +blankly to the ceiling and a hand clenched upon. his breast. + +In his solitude he often talked with Felix, and more intimately +perhaps than with either Decius or Marcian. This trusty servant held +communication with a man in the household of Petronilla, and from +him learnt what he could as to the lady's movements; but nothing was +as yet discoverable which threw light on the mystery of Aurelia and +Veranilda. To-day, however, Felix returned from the other side of +the Tiber with what sounded like important news. Petronilla had left +home this morning in her carriage, had gone forth from the city by +one of the southern gates, and, after an absence of two or three +hours, had returned, bringing with her some one, a woman, whom she +took into her house and kept there in privacy. He who related this +to Felix declared that his mistress had only visited the church of +her patron saint on the Via Ardeatina, but who the woman might be +that she had brought back with her, he did not pretend to know. This +story so excited Basil that he would have hastened forthwith across +the Tiber, had not Felix persuaded him that at this late hour +nothing could be done. After a sleepless night he set out at +sunrise, accompanied by Felix alone. Whether he would be admitted at +Petronilla's door was quite uncertain; in any case, it would serve +no purpose to go thither with a band of attendants, for the Anician +house was sure to be strongly guarded. All he could do was to +present himself in the hope of seeing Petronilla, and take his +chance of learning something from her when they stood face to face. + +On horseback he went down by the Clivus Scauri, followed the road +between the Circus Maximus and the Aventine, crossed the river by +the Aemilian bridge (the nearer bridge of Probus was falling into +ruins), and then turned to the left. This part of the transtiberine +district was inhabited by poor folk. Something unusual seemed to +have happened among them just now: groups stood about in eager talk, +and a little further on, in front of a church, a noisy crowd was +assembled, with soldiers among them. Having made inquiry, Felix +explained the disturbance to his master. It was due to the rapacity +of the Greek commander, who, scorning no gain, however small, was +seizing upon the funds of the trade guilds; this morning the common +chest of the potters had been pillaged, not without resistance, +which resulted in the death of a soldier; the slayer had fled to St. +Cecilia's church, and taken sanctuary. Basil's feeling, as he +listened, was one of renewed bitterness against the Greeks; but to +the potters themselves he gave little thought, such folk and their +wrongs appearing of small moment to one of his birth. + +Pursuing the road towards the Portuensian Gate, he was soon in sight +of the palace where for generations had dwelt the heads of the +Anician family. It lay on a gentle slope above the river, at the +foot of the Janiculan Hill; around it spread public porticoes, much +decayed, and what had once been ornamental gardens, now the pasture +of goats. As Basil had expected, he was kept waiting without the +doors until the porter had received orders regarding him. Permitted +at length to enter, he passed by a number of slaves who stood, as if +on guard, in the atrium, and, though seeming to be alone in the room +beyond, he heard subdued voices from behind the curtains of the +doorways, which told him that he was under observation. All parts of +this great house were perfectly familiar to him, and had it been +possible to conduct a search, he would soon have ascertained whether +she he sought was kept imprisoned here; but, unless he took the +place by storm, how could he hope to make any discovery? Whilst he +was impatiently reflecting, Petronilla entered. She moved towards +him with her wonted dignity of mien, but in the look with which she +examined him, as she paused at two paces' distance, it was easy to +perceive distrust, and a certain inquietude. + +'Your leisure at length permits you to visit me, dear lord Basil,' +she began coldly. + +'My leisure, indeed,' he replied, 'has not been great since the day +on which you left Surrentum. But the more plainly we speak to each +other the better. I come now to ask whether you will release +Veranilda to me, instead of waiting until you are compelled to +release her to the Greeks.' + +Before replying, Petronilla clapped her hands, then stood waiting +for a moment, and said at length: + +'You can now speak without hearers. I did not think you would be so +imprudent in your words. Go on: say what you will.' + +She seated herself, and looked at Basil with a contemptuous smile. +He, surprised by her behaviour, spoke on with angry carelessness. + +'I neither cared before, nor do I now, if any of your servants +overhear me. No more credit would be given to anything they told of +me than is given to what you yourself say I might begin by warning +you of the dangers to which you are exposed, but no doubt you have +calculated them, and think the price not too much to pay for your +revenge. Well, with your revenge I have no wish to interfere. Hold +Aurelia prisoner as long as you will, or as long as you can. I speak +only of Veranilda, against whom you can feel no enmity. Will you +release her to me? It will only be anticipating by a few days her +release to Bessas. Veranilda in his hands, trust me, he will care +little what becomes of Aurelia.' + +'I listen to you,' replied Petronilla, 'because I am curious to +learn into what extravagances your ignoble passion drives you. I had +been told, but could hardly believe, that you charged me with having +seized these women. Now I see that you really are foolish enough to +think it.' She threw her head back in a silent laugh of scorn. +'Child--for you are a child in wit though man in years--do you +not live at large in Rome, free to come and go as you will?' + +'What of that?' + +'Am not I also a free woman? Did I not yesterday visit the church of +the blessed Petronilla, and might I not, if so I had willed, have +escaped instead of returning to the city?' + +'What has this to do with the matter?' demanded Basil. + +'Child! child!' cried the other, as if with boundless contempt. 'You +ask that, knowing why this Veranilda is sought by the Greeks? Were +they truly still in search of her, and were you, were I, suspected +of keeping her hidden, do you suppose we should be free, and not +rather locked as close as any prison in Rome could hold us?' + +The listener stood mute. So vehement was Petronilla's speech, and so +convincing, thus delivered, seemed her argument, that Basil felt his +heart sink. Had she, then, outwitted him? Was he really playing the +part of a simpleton, at whom people laughed? He remembered the +seeming indifference of Bessas touching Veranilda at the second +interview, natural enough if the maiden had already passed into the +Greek's hands. Two days ago Marcian had told him that Petronilla +must needs be aware of Veranilda's importance, seeing that it was +now common knowledge in Roman society. But a thought flashed into +his mind, and he lifted up his head again. + +'This is not true!' he exclaimed. 'If Bessas had found her, I should +have known it.' + +'Pray, how? Does your foolish little lordship imagine that Bessas +must needs have told you all he has done?' + +'Bessas? no,' he answered, his eyes burning with hatred as they +searched her face. 'But I have other means of learning the truth. +You try vainly to deceive me.' + +'As you will, good nephew,' said the lady, as if indulgently. +'Believe as you list, and talk on, for you entertain me.' + +'One thing I have to say,' pursued Basil, 'which you will perhaps +find less amusing.' He had lost control of himself, and spoke in a +low tone of fierce menace, all his body quivering. 'If I learn that +Veranilda is in the hands of the Greeks, and that _you_ delivered +her to them--by the God above us, your life shall pay for it.' + +Petronilla's face hardened till its cruel sternness outdid any +expression of hatred possible to Basil's features. + +'Keep your ruffian threats for more suitable occasion, such as you +will find among your friends the Goths.' She spoke coldly and +deliberately. 'If enslavement to a yellow. haired barbarian had not +muddled your wits, you would long ago have seen who it was that has +played you false.' + +Basil stared at her, his passion chilled with surprise and alarm. + +'Played me false!' he echoed involuntarily. + +'Who is it,' continued Petronilla with slow scorn, 'that you have +trusted blindly? To whom have you looked for guidance and +protection? Who has fostered your suspicion against _me_?' + +An intolerable pang went through the listener's heart. + +'That's but another lie!' he exclaimed furiously. 'O basest of women +born!' + +A hand was upon his dagger. Petronilla rose and stepped back a +little, glancing towards one of the drawn curtains. + +'You have threatened my life,' she said in an undertone. 'Remember +that it is you who are in my power. If I raise my voice on one word, +the next moment you will lie pierced by a score of weapons. Moderate +your insults: my temper is not meek.' + +Basil thought for a moment with painful intentness. + +'Speak plainly,' he said at length. 'You would have me suspect--? +I am ashamed to utter the name.' + +'Keep it to yourself and muse upon it.' + +'You dare bid me think that he, my dearest and most loyal friend, +has infamously betrayed me? Now I know indeed that you have lied to +me in every word, for this is the last audacity of baseness. You +hope to poison my soul against him, and so, whilst guarding +yourself, bring more evil upon those you hate. But you have +overreached yourself. Only cunning driven desperate could have +devised this trick. Listen to me again, before it is too late. Give +me Veranilda. I take upon myself all the peril. It shall be made to +appear that I have all along kept her in hiding, and that you knew +nothing of her. Be advised before the worst comes upon you. I will +escape with her to a place of safety that I know of; _you_ will be +declared innocent, and no one will care to ask what has become of +Aurelia. Think well; you spoke of prisons, but the Greeks have worse +than imprisonment for those who incur their wrath. Will Bessas +forego revenge when, after much trouble, he has wrested the captive +from your hands? Think!' + +Petronilla's countenance, fixed as a face in marble, still suggested +no thought save one of scorn; but there was a brief silence before +she replied. + +'I would not have believed,' she said calmly, 'that a man could be +so besotted with foolish passions. Listen, you in turn. Where those +women are, I know as little as do you yourself. I think, and have +good reason for thinking, that the Goth is already on her way to +Constantinople, but I have no certainty of it. The one thing I do +surely know, is that you are hoodwinked and baffled by the man you +trust.' + +A groan of rage and anguish broke from Basil. He wrung his bands +together. + +'You lie! A thousand times you lie! Either Veranilda or Aurelia is +in this house. Who was it you brought back with you yesterday when +you returned from beyond the walls?' + +The listener uttered a short, fierce laugh. + +'So that is what brought you here? O fool! Think you I should have +no more wisdom than that? Since you must needs pry into my doings +yesterday, you shall hear them. I went to the church of the holy +Petronilla, to pray there against all the dangers that environ me-- +against the wiles of the wicked, the cruelty of violent men, the +sickness which is rife about us. And when I rose from before the +altar, the servant of God who passes his life there, who is pleased +to regard me with kindness, led me apart into the sacristy, where +sat a woman who had lost her sight. She had travelled, he told me, +from Mediolanum, because of a vision in which she had been bidden to +seek the tomb of the daughter of the chief Apostle; and, whilst +praying in the church, her darkness had been illumined by a vision +of the saint herself, who bade her go into the city, and abide in +the house of the first who offered her welcome, and there at length +she would surely receive her sight. So I spoke with the woman, who, +though in poverty, is of noble blood, and when I had offered to make +her welcome, she gladly came with me, and straightway we returned to +Rome. And I brought with me oil from the lamp of the saint, +wherewith, at the hours of prayer, I cross my forehead, that no evil +may befall me. So, you have heard. Believe or not, as you list, O +Basil.' + +Whether true or not, Basil had no choice but to accept the story. He +looked helplessly about him. If by killing this woman he could have +obtained liberty to search through every chamber of the great house, +his dagger would have leapt at her breast; and that Petronilla well +knew; whence the defiant look in her eyes as they watched his +slightest movement. + +'What is your next question?' she said. 'I am at leisure for a +little longer.' + +'If Veranilda is in the hands of the Greeks, where is Aurelia?' + +'I should be glad to think,' replied the lady, 'that she has +withdrawn from the world to expiate her sins.' + +'Would you have me believe that Marcian knows that secret also?' + +'I respect your innocence,' answered Petronilla, with a smile, 'and +will say no more.' + +Again Basil stood for a moment voiceless in wrath. Then he threw up +an arm, and spoke with terrible vehemence. + +'Woman, if you have lied to me, wickedly seeking to put enmity +between me and my friend, may the pest smite you, and may you perish +unforgiven of man and God!' + +Petronilla blanched not. For one instant he glared at her, and was +gone. + + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +HELIODORA + + + + +Marcian's abode was in the Via Lata, the thoroughfare which ran +straight and broad, directly northwards, from the Capitoline Hill to +the Flaminian Gate. Hard by were the headquarters of the city watch, +a vast building, now tenanted by a few functionaries whose authority +had fallen into contempt; and that long colonnade of Hadrian, called +the Septa, where merchants once exposed their jewels and fabrics to +the crowd of sauntering wealthy, and where nowadays a few vendors of +slaves did their business amid the crumbling columns. Surrounded by +these monuments of antiquity, the few private residences still +inhabited had a dreary, if not a mean, aspect. Some of them--and +Marcian's dwelling was one--had been built in latter times with +material taken from temple or portico or palace in ruins; thus they +combined richness of detail with insignificant or clumsy +architecture. An earthquake of a few years ago, followed by a great +inundation of the Tiber, had wrought disaster among these modern +structures. A pillar of Marcian's porch, broken into three pieces, +had ever since been lying before the house, and a marble frieze, +superb carving of the Antonine age, which ran across the facade, +showed gaps where pieces had been shattered away. + +His family, active in public services under Theodoric, had suffered +great losses in the early years of the war; and Marcian, who, as a +very young man, held a post under the Praetorian Prefect at Ravenna, +found himself reduced to narrow circumstances. After the fall of +Ravenna, he came to Rome (accompanied on the journey by Basil, with +whom his intimacy then began), and ere long, necessity driving him +to expedients for which he had no natural inclination, he entered +upon that life of double treachery which he had avowed to his +friend. As the world went, Marcian was an honest man: he kept before +him an ideal of personal rectitude; he believed himself, and +hitherto with reason, incapable of falsity to those who trusted him +in the relations of private life. Moreover, he had a sense of +religion, which at times, taking the form of an overpowering sense +of sin, plunged him into gloom. Though burdened in conscience with +no crime, he was subject in a notable degree to that malady of his +world, the disposition to regard all human kind, and himself +especially, as impure, depraved. Often at the mercy of his passions, +he refrained from marriage chiefly on this very account, the married +state seeming to him a mere compromise with the evil of the flesh; +but in his house were two children, born to him by a slave now dead, +and these he would already have sent into a monastery, but that +human affection struggled against what he deemed duty. The man lived +in dread of eternal judgment; he could not look at a setting sun +without having his thought turned to the fires of hell, and a night +of wakefulness, common enough in his imperfect health, shook him +with horrors unutterable. Being of such mind and temper, it was +strange that he had not long ago joined the multitude of those who +day by day fled from worldly life into ascetic seclusion; what +withheld him was a spark of the ancestral spirit, some drops of the +old Roman blood, prompting his human nature to assert and justify +itself. Hence the sympathy between him and Basil, both being capable +of patriotism, and feeling a desire in the depths of their hearts to +live as they would have lived had they been born in an earlier time. +But whereas Basil nursed this disposition, regarding it as +altogether laudable, Marcian could only see in it an outcome of +original sin, and after every indulgence of such mundane thoughts +did penance as for something worse than weakness. His father had +died in an anguish of compunction for a life stained with +sensuality; his mother had killed herself by excessive rigours of +penitence; these examples were ever before his mind. Yet he seldom +spoke, save to spiritual counsellors, of this haunting trouble, and +only the bitterness of envy, an envy entirely human, had drawn from +him the words which so astonished Basil in their last conversation. +Indeed, the loves of Basil and Veranilda made a tumult in his soul; +at times it seemed to him that he hated his friend, so intolerable +was the jealousy that racked him. Veranilda he had never seen, but +the lover's rapture had created in his imagination a face and form +of matchless beauty which he could not cease from worshipping. He +took this for a persecution of the fiend, and strove against it by +all methods known to him. About his body he wore things that +tortured; he fasted to the point of exhaustion; he slept--if sleep +came to him--on a bare stone floor; some hours of each day he +spent in visiting churches, where he prayed ardently. + +Basil, when he had rushed forth from the Anicianum, rode straightway +to the Via Lata, and presented himself at Marcian's door. The porter +said that his master had been absent since dawn, but Basil none the +less entered, and, in the room where he and his friend were wont to +talk, threw himself upon a couch to wait. He lay sunk in the most +sombre thoughts, until at the door appeared Sagaris, who with the +wonted suave servility, begged permission to speak to him. + +'Speak on,' said Basil gloomily, fixing his eyes upon the oriental +visage, so little reassuring to one harassed by suspicions. + +'It is regarding my dear lord, Illustrious, that I would say a +humble word, if your nobility will bear with me.' + +'What can that be?' + +'I am guilty, I know, of much presumption, but I entreat your +nobility's patience, for in truth it is only my love and my fears +that embolden me to speak. What I would make known to you, +Illustrious, is that for more than two whole days my dear lord has +not broken bread. Since our return to Rome he has fasted all but +continuously, at the same time inflicting upon himself many other +penances of the severest kind. For this, I well know, he will have +his reward in the eternal life; but when I note his aspect, I am +overcome with fear lest we should lose him too soon. This morning, +when I was helping him to dress, he sank down, and lay for a time as +one dead. My lord would rebuke me severely if he knew that I had +ventured to speak of these things; but with you, Illustrious, I feel +that I am in no danger. You will understand me, and pardon me.' + +Basil had raised himself to a sitting position. Supporting himself +on one hand, he stared straight before him, and only spoke when a +movement on the part of the servant betrayed impatience. + +'This has gone on, you say, since your return to Rome? Was it your +lord's habit to do such penance on his travels?' + +'Never in this extreme, though I have always marvelled at his +piety.' + +Again Basil kept a long silence. + +'You have done well to tell me,' he said at length; then, with a +wave of the hand, dismissed the Syrian. + +It was nearly mid-day when Marcian returned. At the sight of Basil +his pale, weary countenance assumed a troubled smile. He embraced +his friend, kissing him affectionately on both cheeks, and sat down +by him with a sigh of fatigue. + +'What makes you so wan?' asked Basil, peering into his eyes. + +'I sleep ill.' + +'Why so? Is it pain or thought that keeps you wakeful?' + +'Both, perhaps,' answered Marcian. He paused, reflected gloomily, +and went on in a subdued voice. 'Do you think often, Basil, of the +eternal fire?' + +'Not often. Sometimes, of course.' + +'Last night I had a dream, which assuredly was a temptation of the +evil one. My father stood before me, and said, "Fear not, Marcian, +for there is no Gehenna. It is but the vision of man's tormented +conscience." And I awoke with a great joy. But at once the truth +came upon me; and until dawn I prayed for strength to resist that +perilous solace. This morning I have talked long with a holy man, +opening my heart to him, that he might finally resolve my doubts. I +said to him: "Slaves who have committed a fault are punished that +they may amend. To what purpose is the punishment of the wicked +after death, since there can be no amendment?" and he replied: "My +son, the wicked are punished in Gehenna that the just may feel +gratitude to the divine grace which has preserved them from such a +doom." "But," I objected, "ought not the just to pray for their +enemies in such evil case?" His answer was prompt: "The time for +prayer is past. The blessed concur in the judgment of God!"' + +Basil listened with bent head. + +'Maximus,' he said presently, 'often doubted of eternal torment; and +my cousin Decius has more than once confessed to me that he believes +it not at all, being strengthened therein by his friend the +philosopher Simplicius. I, O Marcian, would fain think it a dream-- +yet there are evil doings in this world which make me fear that it +may be true.' + +'You have seen Bessas again?' + +'Yes. And I have seen Petronilla.' + +His eyes on the listener, Basil recounted his conversation of this +morning, all save that part of it which related to Marcian. He could +detect no sign of guilty uneasiness in his friend's face, but saw +that Marcian grew very thoughtful. + +'Is not this a shamelessness in falsehood which passes belief?' were +his last words. + +'If indeed it be falsehood,' replied Marcian, meeting the other's +eyes. 'I will confess that, this day or two, I have suspected Bessas +of knowing more than he pretends.' + +'What?' Basil exclaimed. 'You think Veranilda is really in his +power?' + +Marcian answered with a return to the old irony. + +'I would not venture to set bounds to the hypocrisy and the +mendacity and the pertinacity of woman, but, after another +conversation with Petronilla, I am shaken in my belief that she +still holds her prisoners. She may, in truth, have surrendered them. +What makes me inclined to think it, is the fierceness with which she +now turns on _me_, accusing me of the whole plot from the first. +That, look you, would be sweet revenge to a woman defeated. Why,' he +added, with a piercing but kindly look, 'do you hide from me that +she sought to persuade you of my treachery? Is it, O Basil, because +you feared lest she spoke the truth?' + +Flushing under that honest gaze, Basil sprang up and seized his +friend's hand. Tears came into his eyes as he avowed the truth and +entreated pardon. + +'It was only because misery has made me all but mad. Nay, I _knew_ +that she lied, but I could not rest till I had the assurance of it +from your own lips. You think, then, dearest Marcian, that Veranilda +is lost to me for ever? You believe it is true that she is already +on the way to Constantinople?' + +Marcian hoped it with all his heart, for with the disappearance of +Veranilda this strange, evil jealousy of his would fade away; and he +had many reasons for thinking that the loss of his Gothic love would +be the best thing that could happen to Basil. At the same time, he +felt his friend's suffering, and could not bring himself to inflict +another wound. + +'If so,' he replied, 'the Greek has less confidence in me than I +thought, and I must take it as a warning. It may be. On the other +hand, there is the possibility that Petronilla's effrontery outwits +us all. Of course she has done her best to ruin both of us, and +perhaps is still trying to persuade Bessas that you keep Veranilda +in hiding, whilst I act as your accomplice. If this be the case, we +shall both of us know the smell of a prison before long, and +perchance the taste of torture. What say you? Shall we wait for that +chance, or speed away into Campania, and march with the king against +Neapolis?' + +Though he smiled, there was no mistaking Marcian's earnestness. For +the moment he had shaken off his visions of Tartarus, and was his +saner self once more. + +'If I knew that she has gone!' cried Basil wretchedly. 'If I knew!' + +'So you take your chance?' + +'Listen! You speak of prison, of torture. Marcian, can you not help, +me to capture that woman, and to get from her the truth?' + +Basil's face grew terrible as he spoke. He quivered, his teeth +ground together. + +'I, too, have thought of it,' replied the other coldly. 'But it is +difficult and dangerous.' + +They talked yet awhile, until Marcian, who looked cadaverous, +declared his need of food, and they went to the mid-day meal. + +A few days went by. Basil was occupied with the business of his +inheritance. He had messengers to despatch to estates in Lucania and +Apulia. Then came news that a possession of Maximus' in the south +had been invaded and seized by a neighbour; for which outrage there +was little hope of legal remedy in the present state of affairs; +only by the strong hand could Basil vindicate his right. Trouble was +caused him by a dispute with one of the legatees, a poor kinsman who +put an unexpected interpretation upon the item of the will which +concerned him. Another poor kinsman, to whom Maximus had bequeathed +a share in certain property in Rome, wished to raise money on this +security. Basil himself could not lend the desired sum, for, though +lord of great estates, he found himself after Chorsoman's pillage of +the strong room at Surrentum, scarcely able to meet immediate claims +upon him under the will; but he consented to accompany his relative +to a certain moneychanger, of whom perchance a loan might be +obtained. This man of business, an Alexandrian, had his office on +the Capitoline Hill, in that open space between the Capitol and the +Arx, where merchants were still found; he sat in a shadowed corner +of a portico, before him a little table on which coins were +displayed, and at his back a small dark shop, whence came a confused +odour of stuffs and spices. Long and difficult were the +negotiations. To Basil's surprise, the Alexandrian, though treating +him with the utmost respect, evidently gave little weight to his +guarantee in money matters; as to property in Rome, he seemed to +regard it as the most insubstantial of securities. Only on gems and +precious metals would he consent to lend a sum of any importance. + +Whilst this debate was in progress, a litter, gaudy and luxurious, +borne by eight slaves clad in yellow, with others like them before +and behind, came to a stop close by, and from it alighted a lady +whose gorgeous costume matched the brilliance of her vehicle and +retinue. She was young and beautiful, with dark, oriental features, +and a bearing which aimed at supremity of arrogance. Having stepped +down, she stood at the edge of the portico, languidly gazing this +way and that, with the plain intention of exhibiting herself to the +loiterers whom her appearance drew together; at every slightest +movement, the clink of metal sounded from her neck, her arms, her +ankles; stones glistened on her brow and on her hands; about her she +shed a perfume like that wafted from the Arabian shore. + +The Greek merchant, as soon as he was aware of her arrival, ran +forward and stood obsequiously before her, until she deigned to +notice him. + +'I would speak with you. See that we are private.' + +'Noble lady,' he replied, 'the lord Basilius, heir of the Senator +Maximus, is within. I will straightway beg him to defer his +business.' + +The lady turned and gazed into the dusky shop. + +'He is not alone, I see.' + +'A kinsman is with him, noble lady.' + +'Then bid the kinsman go his way, and keep apart, you, until you are +summoned. I will speak for a moment with the lord Basilius.' + +The Alexandrian, masking a smile, drew near to Basil, and whispered +that the lady Heliodora demanded to see him alone. A gesture of +annoyance was the first reply, but, after an instant's reflection, +Basil begged his kinsman to withdraw. Heliodora then entered the +shop, which was nothing more than an open recess, with a stone +counter half across the entrance, and behind it a couple of wooden +stools. Upon one of these the lady seated herself, and Basil, who +had greeted her only with a movement of the head, stood waiting. + +'So you will not sup with me?' began Heliodora, in a voice of +bantering indifference. 'You will not come to see me? You will not +write to me? It is well. I care less than the clipping of a +finger-nail.' + +'So I would have it,' Basil replied coldly. + +'Good. Then we are both satisfied. This is much better than making +pretence of what we don't feel, and playing a comedy with our two +selves for spectators. You amused me for a while; that is over; now +you amuse me in another way. Turn a little towards the light. Let me +have a look at your pretty face, Basilidion.' + +She spoke with a Greek accent, mingling now and then with the Roman +speech a Greek word or exclamation, and her voice, sonorous rather +than melodious, one moment seemed about to strike the note of anger, +at another seemed softening to tenderness. + +'With your leave,' said Basil, 'I will be gone. I have matters of +some importance to attend to.' + +'With your leave,' echoed Heliodora, 'I will detain you yet a +little. For you, Basilidion, there is only one matter of importance, +and it may be that I can serve you better therein than any you +esteem your graver friends. There, now, I see your face. Holy Mary I +how wan and worn it is. From my heart I pity you, Basilidion. Come +now, tell me the story. I have heard fifty versions, some credible, +some plain fable. Confide in me; who knows but I may help you.' + +'Scoff as you will,' was his answer. 'It is your privilege. But in +truth, lady, I have little time to waste.' + +'And in truth, lord, your courtesy has suffered since you began to +peck and pine for this little Hun.' + +'Hun?' + +'Oh, I cry pardon! Goth, I should have said. Indeed, there are +degrees of barbarism--but, as you will. I say again, I care not +the clipping of my smallest nail.' She held her hand towards him; +very white it was, and soft and shapely, but burdened with too many +rings. 'Tell me all, and I will help you. Tell me nothing, and have +nothing for your pains.' + +'Help me?' exclaimed Basil, in scornful impatience. 'Am I such a +fool as to think you would wish to help me, even if you could?' + +'Listen to me, Basil.' She spoke in a deep note which was half +friendliness, half menace. 'I am not wont to have my requests +refused. Leave me thus, and you have one more enemy--an enemy more +to be dreaded than all the rest. Already I know something of this +story, and I can know the whole of it as soon as I will; but what I +want now is to hear the truth about your part in it. You have lost +your little Goth; of that I need no assurance. But tell me how it +came about.' + +Basil stood with bent head. In the portico, at a little distance, +there began to sound the notes of a flute played by some itinerant +musician. + +'You dare refuse me?' said Heliodora, after waiting a moment. 'You +are a bolder man than I thought.' + +'Ask what you wish to know,' broke from the other. 'Recount to you I +will not. Put questions, and I will reply if I think fit.' + +'Good.' + +Heliodora smiled, with a movement which made all her trappings of +precious metal jingle as though triumphantly. And she began to +question, tracking out all Basil's relations with Veranilda from +their first meeting at Cumae to the day of the maiden's +disappearance. His answers, forced from him partly by vague fear, +partly by as vague a hope, were the briefest possible, but in every +case he told the truth. + +'It is well,' said Heliodora, when the interrogation was over. +'Poor, poor Basilidion! How ill he has been used! And not even a +kiss from the little Goth. Or am I mistaken? Perhaps--' + +'Be silent!' exclaimed Basil harshly. + +'Oh, I will not pry into chaste secrets. For the present, enough. Go +your ways, Basil, and take courage. I keep faith, as you know; and +that I am disposed to be your friend is not your standing here, +alive and well, a sufficient proof?' + +She had risen, and, as she uttered these words, her eyes gleamed +large in the dusk. + +'When you wish to see me,' she added, 'come to my house. To you it +is always open. I may perchance send you a message. If so, pay heed +to it.' + +Basil was turning away. + +'What! Not even the formal courtesy? Your manners have indeed +declined, my poor Basil.' + +With an abrupt, awkward movement, he took her half offered hand, and +touched the rings with his lips; then hastened away. + +On the edge of the cluster of idlers who were listening to the flute +player stood his needy kinsman. Basil spoke with him for a moment, +postponed their business, and, with a sign to the two slaves in +attendance, walked on. By the Clivus Argentarius he descended to the +Forum. In front of the Curia stood the state' carriage of the City +Prefect, for the Senate had been called together this morning to +hear read some decree newly arrived from Byzantium; and as Basil +drew near he saw the Prefect, with senators about him, come forth +and descend the steps. These dignitaries, who wore with but ill +grace the ancient toga, were evidently little pleased by what they +had heard; they talked under their breath together, many of them, no +doubt, recalling sadly the honour they were wont to receive from +King Theodoric. As their president drove away, Basil, gazing idly +after the _carpentum_, felt himself touched on the arm; he looked +round and saw Decius, whose panting breath declared his haste, +whilst his countenance was eloquent of ill. + +'I come from the Anicianum,' Decius whispered, 'and bring terrible +news. Petronilla lies dying of the pest.' + +Dazed as if under a violent blow, Basil stretched out his hand. It +touched the wall of the little temple of Janus, in the shadow of +which they were standing. + +'The pest?' he echoed faintly. + +'She was seized in the night. Some one in the house--some woman, +they tell me, whom she brought with her a few days ago, I know not +whence--is just dead. I have sped hither in search of any one with +whom I could speak of it; God be thanked that I have met you! I went +to fetch away books, as you know.' + +'I must go there,' said Basil, gazing about him to find his slaves. +'I must go straightway.' + +'Why? The danger is great.' + +'It may be'--this was spoken into Decius' ear--'that Veranilda +is imprisoned there. I have proof now, awful proof, that Petronilla +lied to me. I must enter, and seek.' + +Hard by were litters for public hire. Bidding his slaves follow, +Basil had himself carried, fast as bearers could run, towards the +Anicianum. Not even fear of the pestilence could withhold him. His +curse upon Petronilla had been heard; the Almighty God had smitten +her; would not the same Power protect him? He prayed mentally, +beseeching the intercession of the Virgin, of the saints. He made a +vow that, did he recover Veranilda, he would not rest until he had +won her conversion to the Catholic faith. + +Without the Anicianum, nothing indicated disturbance, but as soon as +he had knocked at the door it was thrown wide open, and he saw, +gathered in the vestibule, a crowd of dismayed servants. Two or +three of them, whom he knew well, hurried forward, eager to speak. +He learnt that physicians were with the sick lady, and that the +presbyter of St. Cecilia, for whom she had sent in the early +morning, remained by her side. No member of the family (save Decius) +had yet come, though messages had been despatched to several. +Unopposed, Basil entered the atrium, and there spoke with +Petronilla's confidential freedman. + +'Leo, your mistress is dying. Speak the truth to me, and you shall +be rewarded; refuse to answer, or lie to me, and I swear by the +Cross that you shall suffer. Who was the woman that died here +yesterday?' + +The freedman answered without hesitation, telling the same story +Basil had already heard from Petronilla. + +'Good. She has been buried?' + +'She was carried out before dawn.' + +'Tell me now, upon your salvation, is any one kept prisoner here?' + +Leo, an elderly man, his eyes red with tears and his hands +tremulous, gazed meaningly at the questioner. + +'No one; no one,' he answered under his breath. 'I swear it to you, +O lord Basil.' + +'Come with me through the house.' + +'But Leo, moving nearer, begged that he might be heard and believed. +He understood the meaning of these inquiries, for he had been with +his mistress at Surrentum. They whom Basil sought were not here; all +search would be useless; in proof of this Leo offered the evidence +of his wife, who could reveal something of moment which she had +learnt only a few hours ago. The woman was called, and Basil spoke +apart with her; he learnt that Petronilla, as soon as her pains +began, sent a messenger to the deacon Leander, entreating him to +come; but Leander had only yesterday set out on a journey, and would +not be back for a week or more. Hearing this, the stricken lady fell +into an anguish of mind worse even than that of the body; she +uttered words signifying repentance for some ill-doing, and, after a +while, said to those who were beside her--a physician and the +speaker--that, if she died, they were to make known to Bessas that +the deacon Leander, he and he alone, could tell all. Having said +this, Petronilla became for a time calmer; but her sufferings +increased, and suddenly she bade summon the presbyter of St. +Cecilia's church. With him she spoke alone, and for a long time. +Since, she had uttered no word touching worldly matters; the woman +believed that she was now unconscious. + +'And you swear to me,' said Basil, who quivered as he listened, +'that this is the truth and all you know?' + +Leo's wife swore by everything sacred on earth, and by all the +powers of heaven, that she had falsified nothing, concealed nothing. +Thereupon Basil turned to go away. In the vestibule, the slaves +knelt weeping before him, some with entreaties to be permitted to +leave this stricken house, some imploring advice against the plague; +men and women alike, all were beside themselves with terror. In this +moment there came a knocking at the entrance; the porter ran to +open, and admitted Gordian. Basil and he, who had not met since the +day of the family gathering, spoke together in the portico. He had +come, said Gordian, in the fear that Petronilla had been forsaken by +all her household, as sometimes happened to those infected. Had it +been so, he would have held it a duty to approach her with what +solace he could. As it was, physician and priest and servants being +here, he durst not risk harm to his own family; but he would hold +himself in readiness, if grave occasion summoned him. So Gordian +remounted his horse, and rode back home. + +Basil lingered. He no longer entertained the suspicion that +Veranilda might be here, but he thought that, could he speak with +Petronilla herself, penitence might prompt her to tell him where the +captive lay hidden. It surprised him not at all to hear Leander's +name as that of her confidant in the matter, though hitherto his +thought had not turned in that direction. Leander signified the +Church, and what hope was there that he could gain his end against +such an opponent?--more formidable than Bessas, more powerful, +perhaps, than Justinian. Were Veranilda imprisoned in some +monastery, he might abandon hope of beholding her again on this side +of the grave. + +Yet it was something to know that she had not passed into the hands +of the Greeks; that she was not journeying to the Byzantine court, +there to be wedded against her will. Cheered by this, he felt an +impulse of daring; he would see Petronilla. + +'Leo! Lead me to the chamber.' + +The freedman besought him not to be so rash, but Basil was possessed +with furious resolve. He drove the servant before him, through the +atrium, into a long corridor. Suddenly the silence was broken by a +shriek of agony, so terrible that Basil felt his blood chilled to +the very heart. This cry came again, echoing fearfully through the +halls and galleries of this palace of marble. The servants had fled; +Basil dropped to his knees, crossed himself, prayed, the sweat +standing upon his forehead. A footstep approached him; he rose, and +saw the physician who had been with Maximus at Surrentum. + +'Does she still live?' he asked. + +'If life it can be called. What do you here, lord Basil?' + +'Can she hear and speak?' + +'I understand you,' replied the physician. 'But it is useless. She +has confessed to the priest, and will utter no word more. Look to +yourself; the air you breathe is deadly.' + +And Basil, weak as a child, suffered himself to be led away. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE SOUL OF ROME + + + + +The library in Basil's house was a spacious, graceful room, offering +at this day very much the same aspect as in the time of that +ancestral Anician, who, when Aurelian ruled, first laid rolls and +codices upon its shelves. Against the walls stood closed presses of +wood, with bronze panelling, on which were seen in relief the +portraits of poets and historians; from the key of each hung a strip +of parchment, with a catalogue of the works within. Between the +presses, on pedestals of dark green serpentine, ranged busts of the +Greek philosophers: Zeno with his brows knitted, Epicurus bland, +Aratus gazing upward, Heraclitus in tears, Democritus laughing. +These were attributed to ancient artists, and by all who still cared +for such things were much admired. In the middle stood a dancing +faun in blood red marble, also esteemed a precious work of art. +Light entered by an arched window, once glazed, now only barred with +ornamental iron, too high in the wall to allow of any view; below +this, serving as table, was an old marble sarcophagus carved with +the Calydonian hunt. + +Here, one day of spring, Decius sat over his studies. Long ago he +had transferred hither all the books from the great house across the +Tiber, and had made his home on the Caelian. As he read or wrote a +hard cough frequently interrupted him. During the past half year his +health had grown worse, and he talked at times of returning to the +Surrentine villa, if perchance that sweeter air might soothe him, +but in the present state of things--Totila had just laid siege to +Neapolis--the removal did not seem feasible. Moreover, Decius +loved Rome, and thought painfully of dying elsewhere than within her +walls. + +There was a footfall at the door, and Basil entered. He was +carelessly clad, walked with head bent, and had the look of one who +spends his life in wearisome idleness. Without speaking, however, he +threw himself upon a couch and lay staring with vacant eye at the +bronze panels of the vaulted ceiling. For some minutes silence +continued; then Decius, a roll in his hand, stepped to his kinsman's +side and indicated with his finger a passage of the manuscript. What +Basil read might be rendered thus: + +'I am hateful to myself. For though born to do something worthy of a +man, I am now not only incapable of action, but even of thought.' + +'Who says that?' he asked, too indolent to glance at the beginning +of the roll. + +'A certain Marcus Tullius, in one of his letters,' replied the +other, smiling, and returned to his own couch. + +Basil moved uneasily, sighed, and at length spoke in a serious tone. + +'I understand you, best Decius. You are right. Many a time I have +used to myself almost those very words. When I was young--how old +I feel!--I looked forward to a life full of achievements. I felt +capable of great things. But in our time, what can we do, we who are +born Romans, yet have never learnt to lead an army or to govern a +state?' + +He let his arm fall despondently, and sank again into brooding +silence. + +At root, Basil's was a healthy and vigorous nature. Sound of body, +he needed to put forth his physical energies, yet had never found +more scope for them than in the exercise of the gymnasium, or the +fatigue of travel; mentally well-balanced, he would have made an +excellent administrator, such as his line had furnished in +profusion, but that career was no longer open. Of Marcian's ascetic +gloom he knew nothing: not all the misery he had undergone in these +last six months could so warp his wholesome instincts. Owning +himself, in the phrases he had repeated from childhood, a miserable +sinner, a vile clot of animated dust, at heart he felt himself one +with all the beautiful and joyous things that the sun illumined. +With pleasure and sympathy he looked upon an ancient statue of god +or hero; only a sense of duty turned his eyes upon the images of +Christian art. + +And this natural tendency was encouraged by his education, which, +like that of all well-born Romans, even in the sixth century after +Christ, had savoured much more of paganism than of Christianity. +Like his ancestors, before the age of Constantine, he had been +taught grammar and rhetoric; grammar which was supposed to include +all sciences, meaning practically a comment on a few classical +texts, and rhetoric presumed a preparation for the life of the +Forum, having become an art of declamation which had no reference to +realities. Attempts had been made--the last, only a few years ago, +by Cassiodorus--to establish Christian schools in Rome, but +without success, so profoundly were the ancient intellectual habits +rooted in this degenerate people. The long resistance to the new +religion was at an end, but Romans, even while confessing that the +gods were demons, could not cast off their affection for the +mythology and history of their glorious time. Thus Basil had spent +his schooldays mostly in the practice of sophistic argument, and the +delivery of harangues on traditional subjects. Other youths had +shown greater aptitude for this kind of eloquence; he did not often +carry off a prize; but among his proud recollections was a success +he had achieved in the form of a rebuke to an impious voluptuary who +set up a statue of Diana in the room which beheld his debauches. +Here was the nemesis of a system of education which had aimed solely +at the practical, the useful; having always laboured to produce the +man perfectly equipped for public affairs, and nothing else +whatever. Rome found herself tottering with senile steps in the same +path when the Empire and the ancient world lay in ruins about her. +Basil was not studious. Long ago he had forgotten his 'grammatical' +learning--except, of course, a few important matters known to all +educated men, such as the fact that the alphabet was invented by +Mercury, who designed the letters from figures made in their flight +by the cranes of Strymon. Though so ardent a lover, he had composed +no lyric or elegy in Veranilda's honour; his last poetical effort +was made in his sixteenth year, when, to his own joy, and to the +admiration of his friends, he wrote a distich, the verses of which +read the same whether you began from the left hand or the right. +Nowadays if he ever opened a book it was some historian of +antiquity. Livy, by choice, who reminded him of his country's +greatness, and reawakened in him the desire to live a not inglorious +life. + +Of his latter boyhood part had been spent at Ravenna, where his +father Probus, a friend as well as kinsman of the wise minister +Cassiodorus, now and then made a long sojourn; and he had thus +become accustomed to the society of the more cultivated Goths, +especially of those who were the intimates of the learned Queen +Amalasuntha. Here, too, he learned a certain liberality in religious +matters; for it was Cassiodorus who, in one of the rescripts given +from the Gothic court, wrote those memorable words: 'Religious faith +we have no power to impose, seeing that no man can be made to +believe against his will.' Upon the murder of Amalasuntha, when the +base Theodahad ruled alone, and ruin lay before the Gothic monarchy, +Probus, despairing of Italy, following the example of numerous Roman +nobles, migrated to Byzantium. His wife being dead, and his daughter +having entered a convent, he was accompanied only by Basil, then +eighteen years of age. A new world thus opened before Basil's mind; +its brilliancy at first dazzled and delighted him, but very soon he +perceived the difference between a noble's life at Rome or Ravenna +under the mild rule of the Goths, and that led by so-called Romans +in the fear of Justinian and of Theodora. His father, disappointed +in hopes of preferment which had been held out to him, gladly +accepted a mission which would take him back to Italy: he was one of +the envoys sent to Belisarius during the siege of Ravenna, to urge +the conclusion of the Gothic war and command the return of the +Patricius as soon as might be for service against the Persians; and +with him came Basil. On the journey Probus fell ill; he was able to +cross the Adriatic, but no sooner touched Italian Soil than he +breathed his last. + +Then it was that Basil, representing his father in the Imperial +mission, came face to face with Belisarius, and conceived a +boundless enthusiasm for the great commander, whose personal +qualities--the large courtesy, the ready kindliness, the frequent +laugh--made intimate appeal to one of his disposition. He stayed +in the camp before Ravenna until the city surrendered, and no one +listened with more ardent approval to the suggestion which began as +a whisper between Italians and Goths that Belisarius should accept +the purple of the Western Empire. This, to be sure, would have been +treachery, but treachery against Justinian seemed a small thing to +Basil, and a thing of no moment at all when one thought of Rome as +once more an Imperial city, and Italy with such a ruler as the +laurelled Patricius. Treachery the general did commit, but not +against Byzantium. Having made pretence of accepting the crown which +the Goths offered him, he entered into Ravenna, took possession in +Justinian's name, and presently sailed for the East, carrying with +him the King Vitiges and his wife Matasuntha, grand-daughter of +Theodoric. It was a bitter disappointment to Basil, who had imagined +for himself a brilliant career under the auspices of the new Roman +Emperor, and who now saw himself merely a conquered Italian, set +under the authority of Byzantine governors. He had no temptation to +remain in the North, for Cassiodorus was no longer here, having +withdrawn a twelvemonth ago to his own country by the Ionian Sea, +and there entered the monastery founded by himself; at Ravenna ruled +the logothete Alexandros, soon to win a surname from his cleverness +in coin-clipping. So Basil journeyed to Rome, where his kinsfolk met +him with news of deaths and miseries. The city was but raising her +head after the long agony of the Gothic siege. He entered his silent +home on the Caelian, and began a life of dispirited idleness. + +Vast was the change produced in the Roman's daily existence by the +destruction of the aqueducts. The Thermae being henceforth +unsupplied with water, those magnificent resorts of every class of +citizen lost their attraction, and soon ceased to be frequented; for +all the Roman's exercises and amusements were associated with the +practice of luxurious bathing, and without that refreshment the +gymnasium, the tennis-court, the lounge, no longer charmed as +before. Rome became dependent upon wells and the Tiber, wretched +resource compared with the never-failing and abundant streams which +once poured through every region of the city and threw up fountains +in all but every street. Belisarius, as soon as the Goths retreated, +ordered the repairing of an aqueduct, that which served the +transtiberine district, and was indispensable to the working of the +Janiculan mills, where corn was ground; but, after his departure, +there was neither enough energy nor sufficient sense of security in +Rome for the restoration of even one of the greater conduits. Nobles +and populace alike lived without the bath, grew accustomed to more +or less uncleanliness, and in a certain quarter suffered worse than +inconvenience from the lack of good water. + +Formerly a young Roman of Basil's rank, occupied or not by any +serious pursuit, would have spent several hours of the day at one or +other of the Thermae still in use; if inclined to display, he would +have gone thither with a train of domestic attendants, and probably +of parasites; were the season hot, here he found coolness; were it +cold, here he warmed himself. Society never failed; opportunity for +clandestine meetings could always be found; all the business and the +pleasure of a day were regulated with reference to this immemorial +habit. Now, to enter the Thermae was to hear one's footsteps resound +in a marble wilderness; to have statues for companions and a sense +of ruin for one's solace. Basil, who thought more than the average +Roman about these changes, and who could not often amuse himself +with such spectacles as the theatres or the circus offered, grew +something of a solitary in his habits, and was supposed by those who +did not know him intimately, to pass most of his time in religious +meditation, the preface, perhaps, to retirement from the world. +Indolence bringing its wonted temptations, he fell into acquaintance +with Heliodora, a Neapolitan Greek of uncertain origin, whose +husband that year held the office of City Prefect. Acquaintance with +Heliodora was, in his case, sure to be a dangerous thing, and might +well prove fatal, for many and fierce were the jealousies excited by +that brilliant lady, whose husband alone regarded with equanimity +her amorous adventures. Happily, Basil did not take the matter very +much to heart; he scarce pretended to himself that he cared whether +Heliodora was his for a day only or for a month; and he had already +turned his thoughts to the sweetness of Aemiliana, that young sister +of Gordian, whom, if he chose, he might make his wife. + +Now again had sluggishness taken possession of him, and with it came +those promptings of the flesh which, but a few months ago, he easily +subdued, but which the lapse of time had once more made perilous. To +any who should have ventured to taunt him with forgetfulness of +Veranilda, he would have fiercely given the lie; and with reason, +for Veranilda's image was as vivid to him as on the day when he lost +her, and she alone of women had the power to excite his deepest and +tenderest emotions. Nevertheless, he had more than once of late +visited Heliodora, and though these visits were in appearance only +such as he might have paid to any lady of his acquaintance, Basil +knew very well whither they tended. As yet Heliodora affected a +total forgetfulness of the past; she talked of Veranilda, and +confessed that her efforts to make any discovery regarding the +captive were still fruitless, though she by no means gave up hope; +therewithal, she treated Basil only half seriously, with +good-naturedly mocking smiles, as a mere boy, a disdain to her +mature womanhood. Of this was he thinking as he tossed on the couch +in the library; he had thought of it too much since leaving +Heliodora yesterday afternoon. It began to nettle him that his grief +should be for her merely an amusement. Never having seen the Gothic +maiden, whose beauty outshone hers as sunrise outdoes the lighting +of a candle, this wanton Greek was capable of despising him in good +earnest, and Basil had never been of those who sit easy under scorn. +He felt something chafe and grow hot within him, and recalled the +days when he, and not Heliodora, had indulged contempt--to his +mind a much more natural posture of affairs, The animal that is in +every man had begun to stir; it urged him to master and crush and +tame this woman, whom, indeed, he held rather in hate than in any +semblance of love. Her beauty, her sensuality, had power over him +still; he resented such danger of subjection, and encouraged himself +in a barbarism of mood, which permitted him to think that even in +yielding he might find the way of his revenge. + +There had been a long silence since his reply to the hint offered by +Decius. The student spoke again. + +'Basil, leave Rome.' + +'It is forbidden,' answered the other dully, his face averted. + +'Many things are forbidden which none the less are done. Did you +learn that Veranilda awaited you at Asculum, how long would it be +before you set forth?' + +'Not one hour, good Decius.' + +'Even. so. You would pass the gates disguised as a peasant or as a +woman--no matter how. Will you do less to save all that makes life +dear to an honourable man? Be gone, be gone, I entreat you.' + +'Whither?' + +'To Picenum, which is not yet subject to the Goths. There gather +your capable men and arm them, and send to the King Totila, offering +to serve him where he will, and how he will. You know,' pursued +Decius earnestly, 'that I speak this something against my +conscience, but, alas! we can only choose between evils, and I think +Totila is less of a tyrant than Justinian. You will not go to +Constantinople, nor would I bid you, for there, assuredly, is +nothing to be done worthy of a man; but you must act, or you perish. +For me, a weakling and a dreamer, there is solace in the _vita +umbratilis_; to you, it is naught. Arise, then, O Basil, ere it be +too late.' + +The listener rose from his recumbent attitude; he was stirred by +this unwonted vigour in Decius, but not yet did resolve appear on +his countenance. + +'Did I but know,' he murmured, 'that Veranilda is not in Rome!' + +Innumerable times had he said it; the thought alone held him inert. +Impossible to discover, spite of all his efforts, whether Veranilda +had been delivered to the Greeks, or still lay captive in some place +known to the deacon Leander. From the behaviour of Bessas nothing +could be certainly deduced: it was now a long time since he had sent +for Basil, and Marcian, though believing that the commander's search +was still futile, had no more certainty than his friend. Soon after +Petronilla's death, the Anician mansion had been thoroughly pillaged +and everything of value removed to the Palatine. Bessas condescended +to justify this proceeding: having learnt, he said, that the +question of Aurelia's orthodoxy lay in doubt, some declaring that +she was a heretic, some that she had returned to orthodoxy before +her father's death, he took charge of the property which might be +hers until she appeared to claim it, when, having the testament of +Maximus in his hand, he would see that justice was done. With +Leander, Basil had succeeded in obtaining an interview, which was +altogether fruitless. The deacon would answer no question, and +contented himself with warning his visitor of the dangers incurred +by one who openly sought to defeat the will of the Emperor. + +'Is it farewell?' asked Decius, stepping towards his kinsman, who +seemed about to leave the room. + +'I will think.' + +'Go speak with Gordian. He says that he can obtain you permission to +leave the city.' + +'I doubt it,' replied Basil. 'But I will see him--ere long.' + +Decius went forth for his morning's exercise, which sometimes took +the form of a gentle game of ball, but was generally a ramble on +foot and unaccompanied, for he never felt at ease when an attendant +followed him. His habits were solitary; ever absorbed in thought, or +lost in dreams, he avoided the ways where he would be likely to +encounter an acquaintance, and strayed among ruins in deserted +gardens, such as were easily found in the remoter parts of the +Caelian. To-day, tempted on by the delicious air, and the bright but +not ardent sunshine, he wandered by such unfrequented paths till a +sound of voices broke upon his meditation, and he found himself in +view of the Lateran. Numbers of poor people were streaming away from +the open space by the Pope's palace, loud in angry talk, its purpose +intelligible enough to any one who caught a few words. Decius heard +maledictions upon the Holy Father, mingled with curses no less +hearty upon the Greeks who held Rome. + +'It was not thus,' cried an old man, 'in the time of King Theodoric, +heretic though he might be. We had our bread and our hog's flesh, +prime quality both, and plenty for all.' + +'Ay,' cried a woman, 'and our oil too. Since these Greek dogs came, +not a drop of oil has there been in my cruse. Heretics, forsooth! +What better is the Holy Father who lets Christians die of hunger +while he eats and drinks his fill?' + +'Evil go with thee, O Vigilius! The pest seize thee, O Vigilius! +May'st thou perish eternally, O Vigilius!' shrilled and shouted all +manner of voices, while fists were shaken towards the pontifical +abode. + +Decius hastened away. The sight of suffering was painful to him, and +the cries of the vulgar offended his ear; he felt indignant that +these people should not be fed, as Rome for so many ages had fed her +multitude, but above all, he dreaded uproar, confusion, violence. +His hurried pace did not relax until he was lost again amid a +wilderness of ruins, where browsing goats and darting lizards were +the only life. + +Later in the day, when he sat alone in the peristyle, a visitor was +introduced, whom he rose to welcome cordially and respectfully. This +was a man of some threescore years, vigorous in frame, with dry, +wrinkled visage and a thin, grey beard that fell to his girdle. As +he approached, Decius saw that he was bleeding from a wound on the +head and that his cloak was torn. + +'What means this, dear master?' he exclaimed. 'What has befallen +you?' + +'Nothing worth your notice, gentle Decius,' the philosopher replied, +calmly and gravely. 'Let us rather examine this rare treatise of +Plotinus, which by good fortune I yesterday discovered among rubbish +thrown aside.' + +'Nay,' insisted Decius, 'but your wound must be washed and dressed; +it may else prove dangerous. I fear this was no accident?' + +'If you must know,' answered the other with good-natured +peevishness, 'I am accused of magic. The honest folk who are my +neighbours, prompted, I think it likely, by a certain senator who +takes it ill that his son is my disciple, have shown me of late more +attention than I care for, and to-day as I came forth, they pursued +me with cries of "Sorcerer!" and the like, whereupon followed sticks +and stones, and other such popular arguments. It is no matter. +Plotinus begins--' + +Simplicius was one of the last philosophers who taught in Athens, +one of the seven who were driven forth when Justinian, in his zeal +for Christianity, closed the schools. Guided by a rumour that +supreme wisdom was to be found in Persia, the sages journeyed to +that kingdom, where disappointment awaited them. After long +wanderings and many hardships, Simplicius came to Rome, and now had +sojourned here for a year or two, teaching such few as in these days +gave any thought to philosophy. Poor, and perhaps unduly proud, he +preferred his own very humble lodging to the hospitality which more +than one friend had offered him; and his open disregard for +religious practices, together with singularities of life and +demeanour, sufficiently explained the trouble that had come upon +him. Charges of sorcery were not uncommon in Rome at this time. Some +few years ago a commission of senators had sat in judgment upon two +nobles accused of magic, a leading article of proof against one of +them being that he had a horse which, when stroked, gave off sparks +of fire. On this account Decius was much troubled by the +philosopher's story. When the wound had been attended to, he +besought Simplicius not to go forth again to-day, and with some +difficulty prevailed. + +'Why should it perturb you, O most excellent Decius,' said the sage, +'that a lover of wisdom is an offence to the untaught and the +foolish? Was it not ever thus? If philosophy may no longer find +peace at Athens, is it likely that she will be suffered to dwell at +ease in Rome?' + +'Alas, no!' admitted Decius. 'But why, dear master, should you +invite the attacks of the ignorant?' + +'I do no such thing. I live and act as seems good to me, that is +all. Should no one have the courage to do that, what hope would +there be, O Decius, for that most glorious liberty, the liberty of +the mind?' + +The listener bent his head abashed. Then Simplicius began to read +from the manuscript, and Decius, who knew Greek fairly well--he +had lately completed certain translations from Plato, left +unfinished by Boethius--gave reverent attention. At a certain +point the philosopher paused to comment, for the subject was +difficult--nothing less than the nature of God. In God, according +to the system here expounded, there are three principles or +hypostases, united but unequal--the One, the Intelligence, the +Soul; which correspond, respectively, to the God of Plato, the God +of Aristotle, the God of Zeno. Usually curt and rather dry in his +utterances, Simplicius rose to a fervid eloquence as he expounded +this mysticism of Alexandria. Not that he accepted it as the final +truth, it was merely a step, though an important one, towards that +entire and absolute knowledge of which he believed that a glimpse +had been vouchsafed to him, even to him, in his more sublime hours. +As for Decius, the utmost effort never enabled him to attain +familiarity with these profound speculations: he was soon lost, and +found his brain whirling with words that had little or no +significance. At home in literature, in philosophy he did but strive +and falter and lose himself. When at length there came a silence, he +sighed deeply, his hand propping his forehead. + +'Master, how few men can ever know God!' + +'Few, few,' admitted the philosopher, his gaze upwards. + +'I think I should be content,' said Decius, 'to love and praise Him. +Yet that meseems is no less hard.' + +'No less,' was the reply. 'For, without knowledge, love and praise +are vain.' + +But Decius' thought had another meaning. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +SILVIA'S DREAM + + + + +It was the Paschal season, and Basil, careless at most times of +religious observances, did not neglect this supreme solemnity of his +faith. On Passion Day he fasted and received the Eucharist, Decius +doing the like, though with a half-smiling dreaminess which +contrasted with the other's troubled devotion. Since the death of +Petronilla, Basil had known moments of awe-stricken wonder or of +gloomy fear such as never before had visited him; for he entertained +no doubt that his imprecation had brought upon Petronilla her +dreadful doom, and this was a thought which had power to break his +rest. Neither to Marcian nor to Decius did he speak of it in plain +terms, merely hinting his belief that the cruel and treacherous +woman had provoked divine anger. + +But the inclination to piety which resulted from such brooding was +in some measure counteracted by his hostile feeling towards all the +Church. Petronilla might have conceived the thought of imprisoning +Aurelia and Veranilda, but only with the aid of an influential +cleric such as Leander could she have carried it out so +successfully. The Church it was that held Veranilda captive; unless, +indeed, it had handed her over to the Greeks. This conviction made +his heart burn with wrath, which he could scarce subdue even whilst +worshipping the crucified Christ. His victim's heresy would of +course be Leander's excuse for what he had done; the daughter of +Maximus and the Gothic maiden were held in restraint for their +souls' good. Not long after Petronilla's death Basil had been driven +by his distress of mind to visit Gordian and Silvia, and to speak +with them of this suspicion. He saw that, for all their human +kindness, they were disposed rather, to approve than condemn the +deacon's supposed action, and he had gone forth from them in scarce +concealed bitterness. + +Now, in the festival days of Easter, his thoughts again turned to +that house on the Clivus Scauri, so near to his own dwelling, yet so +remote from the world of turbid passions in which his lot was cast. +The household of Gordian seemed untouched by common cares; though +thoroughly human its domestic life, it had something of the calm, +the silence, of a monastery. None entered save those whom husband +and wife held in affection or in respect; idle gaiety was unknown +beneath their roof, and worldly ambition had no part in their +counsels. Because of the reverence these things inspired in him, and +because of his longing to speak with a pure-hearted woman who held +him in kindness, Basil again presented himself at his kinsman's +door. He was led directly to an inner room, where sat Silvia. + +The severe fasts of Lent had left their mark upon the young face, +yet it was fresh and smooth in its delicate pallor, and almost +maidenly in its gentle smile. Silvia had blue eyes, and hair of the +chestnut hue; a simple, white fillet lay above her forehead; her +robe was of pale russet, adorned with the usual purple stripes and +edged with embroidery; on each hand she wore but one ring. When the +visitor entered, she was nursing her child, a boy of four years old, +named Gregorius, but at once she put him to sit upon a little stool +beside her. + +'Welcome, dear cousin Basil,' was her greeting. 'We hoped this time +of gladness would turn your thoughts to us. My husband has been +called forth; but you will await his return?' + +'It was you, lady cousin, whom I wished to see,' Basil replied. As +he spoke, he touched the curly head of the boy, who looked up at him +with large, grave eyes. 'Why is he so pale?' + +'He has had a sickness,' answered the mother, in a low, tender +voice. 'Not many days ago, one might have feared he would be taken +from us. Our prayers prevailed, thanks to the intercession of the +holy Cosma and Damian, and of the blessed Theodore. When he seemed +to be dying, I bore him to the church in the Velabrum, and laid him +before the altar; and scarcely had I finished my prayer, when a +light seemed to shine upon his face, and he knew me again, and +smiled at me.' + +Listening, the child took his mother's hand, and pressed it against +his wan little cheek. Then Silvia rang a bell that was beside her, +and a woman came to take the child away, he, as he walked in silence +from the room, looking back and smiling wistfully. + +'I know not,' pursued Silvia, when they were alone, 'how we dare to +pray for any young life in times so dark as ours. But that we are +selfish in our human love, we should rather thank the Omnipotent +when it pleases Him to call one of these little ones, whom Christ +blessed, from a world against which His wrath is so manifestly +kindled. And yet,' she added, 'it must be right that we should +entreat for a life in danger; who can know to what it may be +destined?--what service it may render to God and man? One night +when I watched by Gregorius, weariness overcame me, and in a short +slumber I dreamt. That dream I shall never forget. It kept me in +heart and hope through the worst.' + +'May I hear your dream?' asked Basil. + +'Nay,' was the gentle reply, with a smile and a shake of the head, +'to you it would seem but foolishness. Let us speak of other things, +and first of yourself. You, too, are pale, good cousin. What have +you to tell me? What has come to pass since I saw you?' + +With difficulty Basil found words to utter the thought which had led +him hither. He came to it by a roundabout way, and Silvia presently +understood: he was indirectly begging her to use her influence with +eminent churchmen at Rome, to discover whether Veranilda was yet +detained in Italy, or had been sent to the East. At their previous +interview he had kept up the pretence of being chiefly interested in +the fate of Aurelia, barely mentioning the Gothic maiden; but that +was in the presence of Gordian. Now he spoke not of Aurelia at all, +and so dwelt on Veranilda's name that his implied confession could +not be misunderstood. And Silvia listened with head bent, +interested, secretly moved, at heart troubled. + +'What you ask,' she began, after a short silence, 'is not easy. If I +make inquiries of such of the clergy as I know, I must needs tell +them why I am doing so; and would they, in that case, think it well +to answer me?' + +'You know the deacon Leander,' urged Basil. 'Can you not plead for +me with him, O Silvia?' + +'Plead for you? Remember that it is impossible for me to assume that +the holy deacon knows anything of this matter. And, were that +difficulty removed, dare I plead for your union with one who is not +of our faith--one, moreover, whom you cannot wed without putting +yourself in grave peril?' + +'Listen, gentle cousin!' exclaimed Basil eagerly. 'It may be that +Veranilda has already renounced the heresy of Anus. If not, she +would assuredly do so at my persuasion. So, that objection you may +dismiss. As for the danger to which our marriage might expose us, +our love would dare that--ay, and things much worse.' + +'You speak so confidently of the Gothic maiden?' said Silvia, with a +look half-timid, half-amused. 'Was there, then, a veritable +plighting of troth between you?' + +'There was, dear cousin. From you I will conceal nothing, for you +are good, you are compassionate.' + +And whilst he poured forth the story of his love, not without tears, +Silvia gave sympathetic attention. The lady Petronilla had never +been one of her intimates, nor was the deacon Leander among those +ecclesiastics whom she most reverenced. When Basil had told all, her +reply was ready. All she could do would be to endeavour to learn +whether Veranilda remained in the charge of Petronilla's +confederate, or had been given up to the Greeks. From conversation +she had heard, Silvia inclined to this belief, that Bessas and his +subordinates were still vainly seeking. + +'I can make you no promise, good Basil; but I will take counsel with +my husband (whom you can trust as you trust me), and see if indeed +anything may be learnt.' + +The lover kissed her hands in ardent gratitude. Whilst they were +still talking confidentially, another visitor was announced, the +deacon Pelagius. Basil begged permission to withdraw before the +cleric entered; he was in no mood for conversation with deacons; and +Silvia pointed smilingly to the door by which he could retreat. + +The hour was still early. Basil passed a day of hopefulness, and his +mood became exultant when, about sunset, a letter was brought to him +from Silvia. + +'To-morrow morning, at the third hour,' she wrote, 'certain of our +kinsfolk and friends will assemble in this house to hear the +reverend man Arator read his poem on the Acts of the Holy Apostles. +This is an honour done to us, for only two or three persons have as +yet heard portions of the poem, which will soon be read publicly in +the church of the Holy Petrus ad Vincula. Let me welcome your +Amiability among my guests. After the reading, I shall beg you to be +acquainted with one who may perchance serve you.' + +Scarcely had Basil read this, when another missive was put into his +hands. It was from Heliodora, and written, as usual, in Greek +characters. + +'To-morrow, after the ninth hour, you are bidden hither. Come if you +choose. If you do not, I shall have forgotten something I have +learnt.' + +To this he paid little heed; it might have significance, it might +have none. If the morning sustained his hope, he would be able to +resist the temptation of the afternoon. So he cherished Silvia's +letter, and flung Heliodora's contemptuously aside. + +Reaching Gordian's house next morning a little before the appointed +hour, he found the members of the family and one or two guests +assembled in a circular room, with a dome pierced to admit light: +marble seats, covered with cushions, rose amphitheatre-wise on one +half of the circle, and opposite was a chair for the reader. In this +hall Sidonius Apollinaris had declaimed his panegyric on the Emperor +Avitus; here the noble Boethius had been heard, and, in earlier +days, the poet Claudian. Beside Silvia stood her husband's two +sisters, Tarsilla and Aemiliana, both of whom, it had begun to be +rumoured, though still in the flower of their youth, desired to +enter the monastic life. At the younger, who was beautiful, Basil +glanced diffidently, remembering that she might have been his wife; +but Aemiliana knew nothing of the thought her brother had +entertained, and her eyes were calm as those of a little child. When +other guests appeared, Basil drew aside, for most of the persons who +entered were strangers to him. Ecclesiastics grew numerous; among +them might be distinguished a tall, meagre, bald-headed man, the +sub-deacon Arator, who held in his hand the manuscript from which he +was to read. Among the latest to arrive was a lady, stricken in +years and bowed with much grief, upon whom all eyes were +respectfully bent as Gordian conducted her to a place of honour. +This was Rusticiana, the daughter of Symmachus, the widow of +Boethius. When Basil looked at her, and thought of the anguish +through which her life had passed in that gloomy evening of the +reign of Theodoric, he felt himself for a moment at one with those +who rejected and scorned the Gothic dominion. A great unhappiness +flooded his heart and mind; he forgot what was passing about him, +and only returned to himself when there sounded the voice of the +reader. + +Arator's poetic version of the Acts of the Apostles was written in +hexameters; whether good or ill, Basil felt unable to decide, and he +wished Decius had been here to whisper a critical comment. In any +case he would have found the reading wearisome; that monotonous, +indistinct voice soon irritated him, and at length made him drowsy. +But admiration frequently broke out from the audience, and at the +end applause became enthusiasm. Unspeakably glad that the ceremony +was over, Basil mingled with the moving crowd, and drew towards +Silvia. At length their eyes met; the lady thereupon spoke a word to +a cleric who was standing by her, and in the next moment summoned +Basil with a movement of the head. There was a brief formality, then +Basil found himself led aside by the deacon Pelagius, who spoke to +him in a grave, kind voice very pleasant to the ear, with the +courtesy of a finished man of the world, and at the same time with a +firmness of note, a directness of purpose, which did not fail to +impress the listener. + +Aged about five-and-thirty, bearing upon his countenance the +signature of noble birth, Pelagius was at this moment the most +accomplished diplomat that the Church of Rome possessed. He had +spent some years at Byzantium, as papal emissary; had engaged the +confidence of Justinian; and, on his return, had brought an Imperial +invitation to Vigilius, who was requested to set forth for the East +as soon as possible. Pope Vigilius had the misfortune to differ on +certain dogmatic questions with that pious and acute theologian the +Empress Theodora; being a man of little energy or courage, he durst +not defy Byzantium, as he gladly would have done, nor yet knew how +to deal subtly for his own ends with the Eastern despots; he +lingered his departure, and in the meantime earned hatred at Rome +because of his inability to feed the populace. It was already +decided that, during his absence, the Holy Father should be +represented by Pelagius, an arrangement very agreeable to that party +in the Church which upheld Imperial supremacy, but less so to those +ecclesiastics--a majority--who desired the independence of Rome +in religious matters, and the recognition of Peter's successor as +Patriarch of Christendom. In speaking to such a personage as this on +Basil's behalf, Silvia had not reflected that the friend of +Justinian was little likely to take the part of one who desired to +frustrate an Imperial command; she thought only of his great +influence, and of the fact that he looked with no favour on the +deacon Leander, an anti-imperialist. What was again unfortunate for +Basil, Pelagius had heard, before leaving Byzantium, of the +Emperor's wish to discover Veranilda, and had already made inquiries +on this subject in Rome. He was glad, then, to speak with this young +noble, whose mind he found it very easy to read, and whom, without +the least harshness, he resolved to deter from his pursuit of a +Gothic bride. + +The colloquy was not long. Buoyed by his ardour, Basil interpreted +the first words of courteous preamble in the most hopeful sense. +What followed gave him pause; he saw a shadow of obstacle arise. +Another moment, and the obstacle had become very real; it grew to +vastness, to insuperability He stood, as it were, looking into the +very eyes of the Serene Majesty of Byzantium. Not that the speaker +used a tone of peremptory discouragement. Granting the indispensable +condition that Veranilda became a Catholic, it was not an impossible +thing, said Pelagius, that Basil should obtain her as a wife; _but_ +it could only be by the grace of the Emperor. Veranilda had been +summoned to Byzantium. If Basil chose to follow her thither, and sue +for her before the throne, why, this was open to him, as to any +other Roman of noble birth. It would have been idle indeed to seek +to learn from Pelagius whether Veranilda had already left Italy, his +tone was that of omniscience, but his brow altogether forbade +interrogation. Basil, in despair, ventured one inquiry. If he +desired to go to Byzantium, could he obtain leave of departure from +the Greek commandant, under whose ban he lay? The reply was +unhesitating; at any moment, permission could be granted. Therewith +the conversation came to an end, and Basil, hating the face of man, +stole away into solitude. + +Entering his own house, he learnt that Marcian was within. For a +month they had not seen each other, Marcian having been absent on +missions of the wonted double tenor; they met affectionately as +ever, then Basil flung himself down, like one crushed by sudden +calamity. + +'What now?' asked his friend, with a rallying rather than a +sympathetic air. + +'No matter,' Basil replied. 'You are weary of my troubles, and I can +no longer talk of them.' + +'What troubles? The old story still? I thought you had found +solace?' + +Basil looked an indignant wonder. His friend, sitting on the couch +beside him, continued in the same half-bantering tone: + +'When were you last at the house of a certain disconsolate widow, on +the Quirinal?' + +'What mean you?' cried the other, starting up, with sudden fury in +his eyes. 'Are you vowed with my enemies to drive me mad?' + +'Not I, dear Basil; but hear the truth. Only late last night I +entered the gates of Rome, and since I rose this morning three +several persons have spoken your name to me together with that of +Heliodora.' + +'They are black and villainous liars! And you, Marcian, so ready to +believe them? Tell me their names, their names!' + +'Peace! One would think you mad indeed. You know the son of Opilio, +young Vivian?' + +'I know him!' answered Basil scornfully, 'as I know the lousy beggar +who sits before St. Clement's Church, or the African who tumbles in +Trajan's forum.' + +'Even so. This same spark of fashion stops me in the Vicus Longus. +"You are the friend of Basil," quoth he. "Give him this warning. If +ever I chance to find him near the portico of Heliodora, I will +drive my dagger into his heart," and on he struts, leaving me so +amazed that I forgot even to fetch the cub a box o' the ear. But I +had not long to wait for an explanation of his insolence. Whom +should I next meet but the solemn-visaged Opilio. "So your friend +Basil," he began, "has forgotten his Gothic love?" We talked, and I +learnt from him that you were the hot rival of Vivian for +Heliodora's favour. Nay, I do but repeat what you ought to hear. Can +such gossip begin without cause? Tell me now, how often have you +been yonder since I left Rome?' + +Basil could scarce contain himself. He had visited Heliodora, yes, +but merely because he would neglect no chance of learning where +Veranilda was imprisoned; it was not impossible that through this +woman such a secret might be discovered. He the rival of that +debauched boy! He the lover of Heliodora! Had he sunk so low in the +esteem of his best friend? Why, then, it was time indeed to be gone: +befall him what might, he could not be unhappier in Constantinople +than here in Rome. + +At these words, Marcian checked him with a surprised inquiry. What +had turned his thoughts to Constantinople? Basil related the events +of yesterday and of this morning. + +'What other counsel could you have expected from Pelagius?' said +Marcian, after listening attentively. 'But on one point I can +reassure you. Veranilda has not yet fallen into the hands of the +Greeks.' + +'How do you know that?' exclaimed Basil eagerly. + +'Enough that I do know it. Whilst you have been idling here-- +forgive me, good Basil--I have travelled far and conversed with +many men. And I have something else to tell you, which will +perchance fall less agreeably upon your ear. The fame of Veranilda +promises to go forth over all lands. King Totila himself has heard +of her, and would fain behold this ornament of his race.' + +'Totila!' + +'When Cumae was besieged by the Goths three months ago, Chorsoman-- +whom you have not forgotten--made terms with Totila, and was +allowed to keep some portion of the plunder he had amassed. Thinking +to do the king a pleasure, he told him of Veranilda, of the commands +regarding her which had come from the East, and of her vanishing no +one knew whither. And of these things, O Basil, did Totila himself, +with his royal mouth, speak unto me not many days gone by.' + +'I see not how that concerns me,' said Basil wearily. + +'True, it may not. Yet, if I were wooing a wife, I had rather seek +her at the hands of Totila than at those of Justinian. To be sure, I +did not speak of you to the king; that would have been less than +discreet. But Totila will ere long be lord of all Italy, and who +knows but the deacon Leander, no friend of Constantinople, might see +his interest and his satisfaction in yielding Veranilda rather to +the Goth than to the Greek?' + +Basil started. Such a thought had never entered his mind, yet he saw +probability in the suggestion. + +'You assure me,' he said, 'that she has not yet been surrendered. I +find that hard to believe. Knowing in whose power she is, how comes +it that Bessas does not seize the insolent Leander, and force the +truth from him? Were I the commander, would I be baffled for an hour +by that sleek deacon?' + +'Were you commander, O best Basil,' replied Marcian, smiling, 'you +would see things in another light. Bessas does not lay hands upon +the deacon because it is much more to his profit to have the clergy +of Rome for his friends than for his enemies. Whether Veranilda be +discovered or not, he cares little; I began to suspect that when I +saw that you came off so easily from your dealings with him. 'Tis a +long road to Constantinople, and the Thracian well knows that he may +perchance never travel it again. His one care is to heap up treasure +for to-day; the morrow may look after itself. But let us return to +the point from which we started. Do you think in earnest of voyaging +to the Bosporus?' + +'I should only choose a hazard so desperate were it the sole chance +that remained of recovering Veranilda.' + +'Wait, then, yet awhile. But take my counsel, and do not wait in +Rome.' + +To this advice Basil gave willing ear. Since he had heard from +Pelagius that he was free to quit the city, he was all but resolved +to be gone. One thought alone detained him; he still imagined that +Heliodora might have means such as she professed of aiding him in +his search, and that, no matter how, he might subdue her will to his +own. She, of course, aimed only at enslaving him, and he knew her +capable of any wickedness in the pursuit of her ends; for this very +reason was he tempted into the conflict with her, a conflict in +which his passions would have no small part, and whether for or +against him could not be foreseen. Once more he would visit +Heliodora; if fruitlessly, then for the last time. + +But of this decision he did not speak to Marcian. + + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +YOUNG ROME + + + + +At the hour named by Heliodora, Basil set forth alone and rode by +unfrequented ways towards the street on the Quirinal named Alta +Semita. A sense of shame forbade him to make known even to his +slaves whither he was going. He kept repeating to himself that it +was for the last time; and perhaps a nobler motive would have +withheld him altogether, had not the story told by Marcian of his +'rival's' insolent menace rankled in him and urged him to show that +he felt no fear. Chance led him past the little church of St. +Agatha, which belonged to the Arians; it helped him to fix his +thoughts upon Veranilda, and silently he swore that no temptation +should prevail against the fidelity due to his beloved. + +Not far from the Thermae of Constantine, and over against that +long-ruined sanctuary of ancient Rome, the Temple of Quirinus, he +drew rein at a great house with a semicircular portico of Carystian +columns, before which stood a bronze bull, the ornament of a +fountain now waterless; on either side of the doorway was a +Molossian hound in marble. A carriage and a litter waiting here +showed that Heliodora had visitors. This caused Basil to hesitate +for a moment but he decided to enter none the less. At his knock he +was at once admitted, and a slave was sent to look after his horse. + +Few houses in Rome contained so many fine works of ancient sculpture +as this, for its master had been distinguished by his love of such +things in a time when few cared for them. Some he had purchased at a +great price; more than one masterpiece he had saved from oblivion +amid ruins, or from the common fate of destruction in a lime-kiln. +Well for him had he been content to pass his latter years with the +cold creations of the sculptor; but he turned his eyes upon +consummate beauty in flesh and blood, and this, the last of his +purchases, proved the costliest of all. + +The atrium was richly adorned. A colossal bust of Berenice faced the +great head of an Amazon, whilst numerous statues, busts, and vases +stood between the pillars; mosaics on the floor represented hunting +scenes, the excellence of the work no less than its worn condition +showing it to be of a time long gone by. Following his conductor, +Basil passed along a corridor, and into a peristyle with a double +colonnade. In the midst of a little garden, planted with flowering +shrubs, rose the statue which its late owner had most prized, an +admirable copy of the Aphrodite of Cnidos; it stood upon a pedestal +of black basalt and was protected by a light canopy with slender +columns in all but transparent alabaster. Round about it were marble +seats, and here, shielded from the sun by little silken awnings, sat +Heliodora and her guests. At once Basil became aware of the young +Vivian, whose boyish form (he was but some eighteen years old) +lounged among cushions on the seat nearest to Heliodora, his eyes +fixed upon her beauty in a languishing gaze, which, as soon as he +beheld the new comer, flashed into fierceness. The others were two +women, young and comely, whose extravagant costume and the attitudes +in which they reclined proved them suitable companions of the lady +of the house. Whilst yet at some distance, Basil had heard a +feminine voice rising to shrillness, and as he approached the group +he found a discussion going on which threatened to become more than +vivacious. The shrill speaker he had met here before, who she was, +he knew not, save that she bore the name of Muscula. + +'You--you--you!' this lady was exclaiming contemptuously. 'You +say this, and you say that! Mother of God! What do _you_ know about +racing? When were you last in the circus at Constantinople? At eight +years old you once told me. You have a good memory if you can +remember as far back as that!' + +She shrieked a laugh, which no one else joined in. Heliodora, to +whom the speech was addressed, affected to smile as in lofty +tolerance of infantine pettishness. At this moment Basil stepped up +to her, and kissed her hand; As though for contrast with Muscula's +utterance, she greeted him in the softest tone her voice could +compass, inviting him with a gesture to take a place at her side, or +rather at her feet, for she was reclining on a long couch. +Heliodora's robe was of hyacinth blue, broidered in silver thread +with elaborate designs. Bracelets, chains, and rings shone about her +in the wonted profusion. Above the flat coils of her hair lay a +little bunch of grapes between two vine leaves, wrought in gold, and +at her waist hung a dagger, the silver sheath chased with forms of +animals. Standing behind her the little Anglian slave Laetus gently +fanned her with a peacock's tail, or sprinkled her with perfume from +a vial; the air was heavy with Sabaean odours. + +'Ah, here is lord Basil!' pursued Muscula with a mischievous glance +at Vivian. 'He has lived at Constantinople lately--not thirty or +forty years ago. Tell us, sweet lord'--she bent towards him with +large, rolling eyes--'was it not Helladius who won for the Greens +when Thomas the Blue was overturned and killed?' + +'For all I know it may have been,' replied Basil carelessly; he had +scarce heard the question. + +'I swear you are wrong, Muscula,' put in the third lady. 'The lord +Basil cares naught for such things, and would not contradict you +lest you should scratch his face--so dangerous you look, much more +like a cat than a mouse. By the beard of Holy Peter! should not +Heliodora know, who, though she is too young to remember it herself, +has heard of it many a time from her father. You think too much of +yourself, O Muscula, since you ate crumbs from the hands of Bessas.' + +The boy Vivian gave a loud laugh, rolling on his cushions. + +'O witty Galla!' he exclaimed. 'Crumbs from the hand of Bessas. Say +on, say on; I love your spicy wit, O Galla! Cannot you find +something sharp, for the most grave, the most virtuous Basil?' + +'Hold your saucy tongue, child,' said Heliodora with a pouting +smile. 'But it is true that Muscula has won advancement. One doesn't +need to have a very long memory to recall her arrival in Rome. There +are who say that she came as suckling nurse in a lady's train, with +the promise of marriage to a freedman when her mistress's baby was +weaned. That is malice, of course; poor Muscula has had many +enemies. For my part, I have never doubted that she was suckling her +own child, nor that its father was a man of honourable name, and not +a slave of the Circus stables as some said.' + +Again Vivian rolled on the cushions in mirth, until he caught +Basil's eye as it glanced at him with infinite scorn. Then he +started to a sitting posture, fingered the handle of his dagger, and +glared at Heliodora's neighbour with all the insolent ferocity of +which his face was capable. This youth was the son of a man whose +name sounded ill to any Roman patriot,--of that Opilio, who, +having advanced to high rank under King Theodoric, was guilty of +frauds, fell from his eminence, and, in hope of regaining the king's +favour, forged evidence of treachery against Boethius. His attire +followed the latest model from Byzantium: a loose, long-sleeved +tunic, descending to the feet, its hue a dark yellow, and over that +a long mantle of white silk, held together upon one shoulder by a +great silver buckle in the form of a running horse; silken shoes, +gold embroidered, with leather soles dyed purple; and on each wrist +a bracelet. His black hair was short, and crisped into multitudinous +curls with a narrow band of gold pressing it from the forehead to +the ears. + +'Oh, look at little Vivian!' cried Muscula. 'He has the eyes of an +angry rat. What vexes him? Is it because he saw Basil touch +Heliodora's slipper?' + +'If I had!' sputtered the boy. 'By the devil, if I had!' + +'Oh, he affrights me!' went on the mocking woman. 'Heliodora, stroke +his curls, and give him a kiss, I beseech you. Who knows what +dreadful thing may happen else?' + +'I have had enough of this,' said Gall a, rising with a careless +laugh. 'Your house has been intolerable, most dear Heliodora, since +you made friends with Muscula. Why you did, I'm sure I don't know; +but for my part I take a respectful leave, noble lady, until I hear +that this mouse of the Palatine has ceased to amuse you with its +pretty pranks. May I never be saved if she is fit company for women +who respect themselves.' + +'Why such hurry, O chaste Galla!' exclaimed Muscula. 'Is your +husband at home for once? I can answer for it he is not there very +often; the wiser man he.' + +'Slap her face, Galla,' cried Vivian. 'At her! She will run before +you.' + +Galla moved as if to act upon this advice, but the voice of +Heliodora, peremptory, resonant, checked her step. + +'None of that! Get you gone, both of you, and try conclusions if you +will in the open street. Off! Pack! By the Virgin Mother, if you +linger I will have you flung out of doors.' + +In her amazement and indignation, Galla rose to the tips of her +feet. + +'This to _me_!' she screamed. 'To me, the only woman of noble birth +and honest life who still remained your friend! Wanton! witch! +poisoner!' + +Basil sprang up and walked aside, overcome with shame at the scene +enacted before him, and fearing it would end in ignoble violence. He +heard Muscula's shriek of laughter, a shout of anger from Vivian, +and the continued railing of Galla; then, ere he had taken a dozen +steps, a hand touched him, and Heliodora's voice sounded low at his +ear. + +'You are right, dear Basil. Only an accident prevented me from being +alone at your hour. Forgive me. We will go apart from these +base-tongued creatures.' + +But almost in the same moment sounded another voice, that of +Muscula, who had sprung after them. + +'Sweet lord Basil,' she murmured at his ear, 'a moment's patience, +for I have that to say which is worth your hearing.' + +Heliodora stepped aside. Pale with fury, she held herself in an +attitude of contemptuous indifference. + +'Speak and have done!' exclaimed Basil harshly. + +'But a word, Illustrious. I know well why you are here. Not for this +woman's painted cheeks and essence-soaked hair: you had enough of +that long ago. You come because she pretends to know a secret which +concerns you nearly. It was to discover this secret that she sought +friendship with me. But do not imagine, sweet lord, that I tell all +I know to Heliodora. I have played with her curiosity and fooled +her. From me she has learnt nothing true. Even if she desired to +tell you the truth--and be sure she does not--she could only +mislead you.' + +Basil was standing between the two women, his eyes on the ground. +Had he watched Heliodora at this moment, he would have understood +the sudden start with which Muscula sprang nearer to him as if for +protection. + +'I alone,' she continued, in a voice not so subdued but that +Heliodora could hear every word. 'I alone can discover for you what +you wish to know. Give yourself no more trouble in suing to a woman +of whom you are weary--a woman evil and dangerous as a serpent. +When you choose to seek me, dear lord, I will befriend you. Till +that day, fare you well, and beware of other things than the +silver-hilted dagger--which she would draw upon me did she dare. +But she knows that I too have my little bosom friend--' she touched +her waist--'though it does not glitter before every eye.' + +Therewith Muscula turned and tripped off, looking back to laugh +aloud before she disappeared in the corridor. Galla was already +gone, half persuaded, half threatened away by Vivian, who now stood +with knitted brows glaring at Basil. + +'I must get rid of this boy,' said Heliodora to her companion. 'In a +moment we shall be alone.' + +Basil was held from taking curt leave only by Vivian's insolent +eyes; when Heliodora moved, he stepped slowly after her. + +'Your company is precious, dear Vivian,' he heard her say, 'but you +must not spoil me with too much of it. Why did you not go away with +Galla, whose wit so charms you, and whose husband is so complaisant? +There, kiss my little finger, and say good-bye.' + +'That shall be when it pleases me,' was Vivian's reply. 'To-day I +have a mind to sup with you, Heliodora. Let that intruder know it; +or I will do so myself.' + +Heliodora had the air of humouring a jest. Putting forth a hand, she +caught the stripling's ear and pinched it shrewdly. + +'Little lord,' she said, 'you take too large a liberty.' + +Whereto Vivian replied with a pleasantry so broad and so significant +that Heliodora's cheek fired; for she saw that Basil stood within +hearing. + +'Nay, I must be brief with you, young monkey!' she exclaimed. 'Away! +When I am at leisure for your tricks I will send for you. Be off!' + +'And leave you with that . . .?' cried the other, using a villainous +word. + +Hereupon Basil addressed him. + +'Whether you stay or go, foul mouth, is naught to me. I am myself in +haste to be gone, but I will not leave you without a lesson by +which, perchance, you may profit.' + +As he uttered the last word, he dealt Vivian such a buffet on the +side of the head with his open hand that the youngster staggered. +The result of this, Basil had well foreseen; he stood watchful, and +in an instant, as a dagger gleamed before his eyes, grasped the +descending arm that wielded it. Vivian struggled furiously, but was +overcome by the other's strength. Flung violently to the ground, his +head struck against the edge of a marble seat, and he lay senseless. + +Heliodora looked on with the eyes with which she had often followed +a fight between man and beast in the amphitheatre. Pride, and +something more, lit up her countenance as she turned to Basil. + +'Brave generous!' she exclaimed, her hands clasped against her +bosom. 'Not even to draw your dagger! Noble Basil!' + +'Have him looked to,' was the reply; 'and console him as you choose. +Lady, I bid you farewell.' + +For a moment Heliodora stood as though she would let him thus +depart. Basil was nearing the entrance to the corridor, when she +sprang after him. Her arms were about his neck; her body clung +against his; she breathed hotly into his eyes as she panted forth +words, Latin, Greek, all burning with shameless desire. But Basil +was not thus to be subdued. The things that he had heard and seen, +and now at last the hand-to-hand conflict, had put far from him all +temptation of the flesh; his senses were cold as the marbles round +about him. This woman, who had never been anything to him but a lure +and a peril, whom he had regarded with the contempt natural in one +of his birth towards all but a very few of her sex, now disgusted +him. He freed himself from her embrace with little ceremony. + +'Have I deceived you?' he asked. 'Have I pretended to come here for +anything but my own purpose, which you pretended to serve?' + +Heliodora stood in a strange attitude, her arms thrown back, her +body leaning forward--much like some fierce and beautiful animal +watching the moment to spring. + +'Do you believe what that harlot said?' she asked in a thick voice. + +'Enough of it to understand my folly in hoping to learn anything +through you. Let us part, and think of each other no more.' + +She caught his arm and put her face close to his. + +'Leave me thus, and your life shall pay for it.' + +Basil laughed scornfully. + +'That cockerel,' he replied, pointing to Vivian, who was just +stirring, 'sent me a message this morning, that if I valued my life +I should not come here. I heed your threat no more than his.' + +They looked into each other's eyes, and Heliodora, deep read in the +looks of men, knew that her desire was frustrate. + +'Go then,' she said. 'Go quickly, lest the boy pursue you His second +aim might be surer.' + +Basil deigned no reply. He went into the vestibule, waited there +until his horse was brought up, and rode away. + +His head bent, scarce noting the way he took, he found himself at +the entrance to Trajan's Forum. Here he checked his horse, and +seemed to be contemplating that scene which for centuries had +excited the wonder and the awe of men. But when he rode on over the +grass-grown pavement, he was as little observant of the arches, +statues, galleries, and of that great column soaring between +Basilica and Temple, as of the people who moved hither and thither, +sparse, diminutive. Still brooding, he came into the Via Lata and to +the house of Marcian. + +Marcian, said the porter, was closeted with certain visitors. + +'Make known to him,' said Basil, 'that I would speak but a word in +private.' + +They met in the atrium. Marcian smiled oddly. + +'If you come to tell me what you have heard this afternoon,' he +whispered, 'spare your breath. I know it already.' + +'How can that be?' + +'I have seen an angry woman. Angry women are always either very +mischievous or very useful. In this case I hope to make use of her. +But I can tell you nothing yet, and I would that you were far from +Rome. Could I but persuade you to be gone, dear Basil.' + +'I need no more persuading,' replied the other, with sudden resolve. +'If it be true that I am free to leave the city, I go hence +to-morrow.' + +Marcian's face lighted up. + +'To Asculum, then?' + +'Since here I have no hope. Can I trust you, Marcian?' he added, +grasping his friend's hand. + +'As yourself--nay, better.' + +'Then, to Asculum.' + + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +WHISPERS + + + + +The greater part of southern Italy was once more held by the Goths. +Whilst the long blockade of Neapolis went on, Totila found time to +subdue all that lay between that city and the Ionian Sea, meeting, +indeed, with little resistance among the country-folk, or from the +inhabitants of the mostly unwalled towns. The Imperial forces which +should have been arrayed against him had wintered in various cities +of the north, where their leaders found all they at present cared +for, repose and plunder; their pay long in arrear, and hardly to be +hoped for, the Greek soldiers grew insubordinate, lived as they +would or could, and with the coming of spring deserted in numbers to +the victorious enemy. Appeals to Byzantium for reinforcements had as +yet resulted only in the sending of a small, ill-equipped fleet, +which, after much delay in Sicilian ports, sailed for Neapolis, only +to be surprised by a storm, and utterly wrecked on the shores of the +great bay. Not long after the news of this disaster, it was reported +in Rome that Neapolis, hopeless of relief, had opened her gates, and +presently the report had strange confirmation. There arrived by the +Appian Way officers of the garrison which had surrendered; not as +harassed fugitives, but travelling with all convenience and +security, the Gothic king himself having expedited their journey and +sent guides with them lest they should miss the road. Nor was this +the most wonderful of the things they had to relate. For they told +of humanity on the part of the barbarian conqueror such as had no +parallel in any story of warfare known to Greek or Roman; how the +Neapolitans being so famine-stricken that they could scarce stand on +their legs, King Totila would not at once send plentiful stores into +the town, lest the sufferers should die of surfeit, but ministered +to their needs even as a friendly physician would have done, giving +them at first little food, and more as their strength revived. To be +sure, there were partisans of the Empire in Rome who scoffed at +those who narrated, and those who believed, a story so incredible. +On the Palatine, it was at first received with roars of laughter, in +which the lady Muscula's shrill voice had its part. When +confirmation had put the thing beyond dispute, Bessas and his +supporters made a standing joke of it; if any one fell sick their +word was: 'Send for the learned Totila'; and when there was talk of +a siege of Rome, they declared that their greatest fear, should the +city fall, was of being dieted and physicked by the victor. + +Romans there were, however, who heard all this in another spirit. +The ill-fed populace had long ago become ready for any change which +might benefit their stomachs, and the name of Totila was to them +significant of all they lacked under the Greeks. 'Let the Goth come +quickly!' passed from mouth to mouth wherever the vulgar durst speak +what they thought. Among the nobles, prejudice of race and religion +and immemorial pride ensured predominance to the Imperialists, but +even here a Gothic party existed, and imprudent utterances had +brought certain senators into suspicion. The most active friend of +Totila, however, was one whom Bessas never thought of suspecting, +having, as he thought, such evidence of the man's devotion to the +Greek cause. Marcian had played his double part with extraordinary +skill and with boldness which dared every risk. He was now exerting +himself in manifold ways, subtly, persistently, for the supreme +achievement of his intrigue, the delivery of Rome from Byzantine +tyranny. + +Among the many persons whom he made to serve his ends without +admitting them to his confidence was Galla, the wife of a noble whom +Amalasuntha had employed in her secret communications with +Byzantium, and who was now one of the intimates of Bessas. A light +woman, living as she pleased because of her husband's indifference, +Galla knew and cared nothing about affairs of state, and on that +account was the more useful to Marcian. She believed him in love +with her, and he encouraged the belief; flattering her with pretence +at timidity, as though he would fain have spoken but durst not. +Regarding him as her slave, Galla amused herself by sometimes coming +to his house, where, as if in the pride of chastity, she received +his devotion, and meanwhile told him things he was glad to know. And +thus it happened on that day of the quarrel between Heliodora and +Muscula, wherein Galla unexpectedly found herself involved. Bubbling +over with wrath against Heliodora, she at once sought out Marcian, +acquainted him with all that had happened, and made evident her +desire to be in some way avenged. Marcian saw in this trivial affair +the opportunity for a scheme of the gravest import; difficult, +perilous, perhaps impracticable, but so tempting in its +possibilities that he soon resolved to hazard everything on the +chance of success. Basil's departure from Rome, which he had desired +for other reasons, fell pat for the device now shaping itself in his +mind. A day or two after, early in the morning, he went to +Heliodora's house, and sent in a message begging private speech with +the lady. As he had expected, he was received forthwith, Heliodora +being aware of his friendship with Basil. Between her and Marcian +the acquaintance was but slight; he had hitherto regarded her as +unserviceable, because too dangerous. It was because of her +dangerous qualities that he now sought her, and his courage grew as +the conversation became intimate. + +He began with a confession. Head hanging, visage gloomy, in slow, +indirect, abashed language, he let it be understood that though +truly Basil's friend, he had all along been secretly doing his +utmost to frustrate the lover's search for the Gothic maiden +Veranilda, and, as part of this purpose, had striven to turn Basil's +thoughts to Heliodora. That he had had no better success grieved him +to the heart. All who wished Basil well, desired that he should +marry a lady of his own rank, his own religion, and could he but +have won a wife such as Heliodora! + +'Alas!' sighed Marcian, 'it was too much to hope. How could you be +other than cold to him? Had you deigned, thrice gracious lady, to +set your beauty, your gifts, in contest with his memory of that +other!' + +In every man that approached her, Heliodora suspected a selfish aim, +but it was seldom that she talked with one whose subtlety seemed the +equal of her own. The little she knew of Marcian had predisposed her +to regard him as a cold and melancholy nature, quite uninteresting; +she eyed him now with her keenest scrutiny, puzzled by his story, +vainly seeking its significance. + +'Your friend complained to you of my coldness?' she said distantly. + +'He scarce spoke of you. I knew too well with what hope he came +here. When he found it vain, he turned away in bitterness.' + +This sounded like truth to one who knew Basil. After a moment's +reflection, Heliodora made another inquiry, and in a tone of less +indifference. + +'Why, lord Marcian, do you come to tell me this? Basil has quitted +Rome. You can scarce ask me to pursue him.' + +'Lady,' was the sad reply, 'I will not even yet abandon hope. But +this is not the moment to plead his cause with you, and indeed I +came with a thought more selfish.' + +Ready to believe whatever might be uttered with such preface, +Heliodora smiled and bade the speaker continue. Again Marcian's head +drooped; again his words became hesitant, vague. But their purpose +at length grew unmistakable; unhappy that he was, he himself loved +Veranilda, and the vehemence of his passion overcame his loyalty in +friendship; never whilst he lived should Basil wed the Gothic +maiden. This revelation astonished Heliodora; she inquired when and +how Marcian had become enamoured, and heard in reply a detailed +narrative, part truth, part false, of the events at Surrentum, known +to her as yet only in outline and without any mention of Marcian's +part in them. Upon her surprise followed malicious joy. Was there no +means, she asked, of discovering Veranilda? And the other in a low +voice made answer that he knew where she was--knew but too well. + +'I shall not ask you to tell me the secret,' said Heliodora, with a +smile. + +'Gracious lady,' pursued Marcian, 'it is for the purpose of +revealing it to you that I am here. Veranilda is in the palace, held +in guard by Bessas till she can have escort to Constantinople.' + +'Ha! You are sure of that?' + +'I have it on testimony that cannot be doubted.' + +'Why then,' exclaimed Heliodora, all but betraying her exultation in +the thought, 'there is little chance that Basil's love will +prosper.' + +'Little chance, dear lady, I hope and believe, but I have confessed +to you that I speak as a self-seeker and a faithless friend. It is +not enough that Basil may not wed her; I would fain have her for +myself.' + +The listener laughed. She began to think this man something of a +simpleton. + +'Why, my excellent Marcian, I will give you all my sympathy and wish +you good fortune. But that any one may do. What more do you expect +of me?' + +Marcian looked towards the open doorway. They were seated in a +luxurious little room, lighted from the peristyle, its adornments in +sculpture a sleeping Hermaphrodite and a drunken satyr; on the wall +were certain marble low-reliefs, that behind Heliodora representing +Hylas drawn down by the Naiads. + +'Speak without fear,' she reassured him. 'In this house, believe me, +no one dare play the eavesdropper.' + +'I have to speak,' said Marcian, bending forward, 'of things +perilous--a life hanging on every word. Only to one of whose +magnanimity I felt assured should I venture to disclose my thought. +You have heard,' he proceeded after a pause, 'and, yet I am +perchance wrong in supposing that such idle talk could reach your +ears, let me make known to you then, that with Bessas in the palace +dwells a fair woman (or so they say, for I have not seen her) named +Muscula. She is said to have much power with the commander.' + +The listener's countenance had darkened. Regarding Marcian with +haughty coldness, she asked him how this could concern _her_. He, in +appearance dismayed, falteringly entreated her pardon. + +'Be not angered, O noble Heliodora! I did not presume to think that +you yourself had any acquaintance with this woman. I wished to make +known to you things that I have heard of her--things which I doubt +not are true. But, as it is only in my own interest that I speak, I +will say no more until I have your permission.' + +This having been disdainfully granted, Marcian proceeded with +seeming timid boldness, marking in his listener's eyes the eager +interest with which she followed him. Though every detail of the +story was of his own invention, its plausibility had power upon one +whose passions inclined her to believe it. He told then that +Muscula, bribed by Basil, was secretly endeavouring to procure the +release of Veranilda, which should be made to appear an escape of +Basil's contriving. The lover's visits to Heliodora, he said, and +his supposed ignorance as to where Veranilda was detained, were part +of the plot. Already Muscula had so far wrought upon Bessas that +success seemed within view, and Basil's departure from Rome was only +a pretence; he waited near at hand, ready to carry off his beloved. + +'How come you to know all this?' Heliodora asked bluntly at the +first pause. + +'That also I will tell you,' answered Marcian. 'It is through some +one whom Muscula holds of more account than Bessas, and with whom +she schemes against him.' + +'By the Holy' Mother!' exclaimed Heliodora, 'that is yourself.' + +Marcian shook his head. + +'Not so, gracious lady.' + +'Nay, why should you scruple to confess it? You love Veranilda, and +do you think I could not pardon an intrigue which lay on your way to +her?' + +'Nevertheless it is not I,' persisted the other gravely. + +'Be it so,' said Heliodora. 'And in all this, my good Marcian, what +part have I? How does it regard me? What do you seek of me?' + +Once more the man seemed overcome with confusion. + +'Indeed I scarce know,' he murmured. 'I hardly dare to think what +was in my mind when I sought you. I came to you, O Heliodora, as to +one before whom men bow, one whose beauty is resistless, whose wish +is a command. What gave me courage was a word that fell from Bessas +himself when I sat at table with him yesterday. "Wore I the purple," +he said, "Heliodora should be my Empress."' + +'Bessas said that?' + +'He did--and in the presence of Muscula, who heard it, I am bound +to say, with a sour visage.' + +Heliodora threw back her head and laughed. 'I think he has scarce +seen me thrice,' fell from her musingly. 'Tell him from me,' she +added, 'that it is indiscreet to talk of wearing the purple before +those who may report his words.' + +There was a silence. Marcian appeared to brood, and Heliodora did +her best to read his face. If, she asked herself; he had told her +falsehoods, to what end had he contrived them? Nothing that she +could conjecture was for a moment satisfying. If he told the truth, +what an opportunity were here for revenge on Muscula, and for the +frustration of Basil's desire. + +How that revenge was to be wrought, or, putting it the other way, +how Marcian was to be helped, she saw as yet only in glimpses of +ruthless purpose. Of Bessas she did not think as of a man easy to +subdue or to cajole; his soldierly rudeness, the common gossip of +his inconstancy in love, and his well-known avarice, were not things +likely to touch her imagination, nor had she ever desired to number +him in the circle of her admirers. That it might be in her power to +do what Marcian besought, she was very willing to persuade herself, +but the undertaking had such colour of danger that she wished for +more assurance of the truth of what she had heard. + +'It seems to me,' she said at length, 'that the hour is of the +latest. What if Veranilda escape this very day?' + +'Some days must of necessity pass,' answered Marcian. 'The plot is +not so far advanced.' + +He rose hurriedly as if distracted by painful thoughts. + +'Noble lady, forgive me for thus urging you with my foolish sorrows. +You see how nearly I am distraught. If by any means you could aid +me, were it only so far as to withhold her I love from the arms of +Basil--' + +So deep was Heliodora sunk in her thoughts that she allowed Marcian +to leave her without another word. He, having carried his +machination thus far, could only await the issue, counting securely +on Heliodora's passions and her ruthlessness. He had but taken the +first step towards the end for which he schemed; were this +successful, with the result that Heliodora used her charms upon the +Greek commander, and, as might well happen, obtained power over him, +he could then proceed to the next stage of his plot, which had a +scope far beyond the loves of Basil and Veranilda. That the Gothic +maiden was really in the hands of Bessas he did not believe; +moreover, time had soothed his jealousy of Basil, and, had he been +able to further his friend's desire, he would now willingly have +done so; but he scrupled not to incur all manner of risks, for +himself and others, in pursuit of a great design. Marcian's +convulsive piety, like the religion of most men in his day, regarded +only the salvation of his soul from eternal torment, nor did he ever +dream that this would be imperilled by the treacheries in which his +life was now inured. + +Only a few hours after his departure, Heliodora, by means familiar +to her, had learnt that Marcian's confidential servant was a man +named Sagaris, a conceited and talkative fellow, given to boasting +of his light loves. Before sunset, Sagaris had received a mysterious +message, bidding him repair that night to a certain place of public +resort upon the Quirinal. He did so, was met by the same messenger, +and bidden wait under a portico. Before long there approached +through the darkness a muffled figure, followed by two attendants +with lanterns; the Syrian heard his name whispered; a light touch +drew him further away from the lantern-bearing slaves, and a woman's +voice, low, caressing, began to utter endearments and reproaches. +Not to-night, it said, should he know who she was; she could speak a +name which would make his heart beat; but he should not hear it +until he had abandoned the unworthy woman whose arts had won him. +'What woman?' asked Sagaris in astonishment. And the answer was +whispered, 'Muscula.' + +Now Muscula's name and position were well known to the Syrian. The +reproach of the mysterious fair one made him swell with pride; he +affected inability to deny the charge, and in the next breath +declared that Muscula was but his sport, that in truth he cared +nothing for her, he did but love her as he had loved women +numberless, not only in Rome, but in Alexandria, Antioch, +Constantinople. The muffled lady gave a deep sigh. Ah! and so it +would be with _her_, were she weak enough to yield to _her_ passion. +Sagaris began to protest, to vow. + +'It is vain,' replied the amorous voice. 'Only in one way can you +convince me and win me.' + +'Oh, how?' + +'Let me hear that Muscula is dead.' + +Sagaris stood mute. A hand touched his shoulder, his hair; perfumes +loaded the air about him. + +'Tell me your name and it shall be done.' + +The warm mouth breathed against his cheek and a name was murmured. + +The second day after this saw an event in the Palatine which was +matter of talk for some two days more, and then passed into +oblivion. Rumour said that Muscula had been detected plotting +against the life of Bessas, that she had been. examined under +torture, found guilty, and executed. Certain gossips pretended that +there was no plot at all, but that Bessas, weary of his mistress, +had chosen this way of getting rid of her. Be that as it might, +Muscula was dead. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +LEANDER THE POLITIC + + + + +For most of his knowledge of private things that happened on the +Palatine--and little that went on in the household of Bessas +escaped him--Marcian depended upon his servant Sagaris. Exorbitant +vanity and vagrant loves made the Syrian rather a dangerous agent; +but it was largely owing to these weaknesses that he proved so +serviceable. His master had hitherto found him faithful, and no one +could have worked more cunningly and persistently when set to play +the spy or worm for secrets. Notwithstanding all his efforts, this +man failed to discover whether Veranilda had indeed passed into the +guardianship of Bessas; good reason in Marcian's view for believing +that she was still detained by Leander, and probably in some +convent. But a rumour sprang up among those who still took interest +in the matter that some one writing from Sicily professed to have +seen the Gothic maiden on board a vessel which touched there on its +way to the East. This came to the ears of Marcian on the day after +his conversation with Heliodora. Whether it were true or not he +cared little, but he was disturbed by its having become subject of +talk at this moment, for Heliodora could not fail to hear the story. + +The death of Muscula set him quivering with expectancy. That it +resulted from his plotting he could not be assured. Sagaris, who +wore a more than usually self-important air when speaking of the +event, had all manner of inconsistent reports on his tongue Not many +days passed before Marcian received a letter, worded like an +ordinary invitation, summoning him to the house on the Quirinal. + +He went at the third hour of the morning, and was this time led +upstairs to a long and wide gallery, which at one side looked down +upon the garden in the rear of the house, and at the other offered a +view over a great part of Rome. Here was an aviary, constructed of +fine lattice work in wood, over-trailed with creeping plants, large +enough to allow of Heliodora's entering and walking about among the +multitude of birds imprisoned. At this amusement Marcian found her. +Upon her head perched a little songster; on her shoulder nestled a +dove; two fledglings in the palm of her hand opened their beaks for +food. Since her last visit a bird had died, and Heliodora's eyes +were still moist from the tears she had shed over it. + +'You do not love birds,' she said, after gazing fixedly at Marcian a +moment through the trellis. + +'I never thought,' was the reply, 'whether I loved them or not.' + +'I had rather give my love to them than to any of mankind. They +repay it better.' + +She came forth, carefully closed the wicket behind her, and began to +pace in the gallery as though she were alone. Presently she stood to +gaze over the city spread before her, and her eyes rested upon the +one vast building--so it seemed--which covered the Palatine +Hill. + +'Marcian!' + +He drew near. Without looking at him, her eyes still on the +distance, she said in an unimpassioned voice: + +'Did you lie to me, or were you yourself deceived?' + +'Lady, I know not of what you speak.' + +'You know well.' Her dark eyes flashed a glance of rebuke, and +turned scornfully away again. 'But it matters nothing. I sent for +you to ask what more you have to say.' + +Marcian affected surprise and embarrassment. + +'It was my hope, gracious lady, that some good news awaited me on +your lips. What can I say more than you have already heard from me?' + +'Be it so,' was the careless reply. 'I have nothing to tell you +except that Veranilda is not there.' She pointed towards the palace. +'And this I have no doubt you know.' + +'Believe me, O Heliodora,' he exclaimed earnestly, 'I did not. I was +perhaps misled by--' + +Her eyes checked him. + +'By whom?' + +'By one who seemed to speak with honesty and assurance.' + +'Let us say, then, that you were misled; whether deceived or not, +concerns only yourself. And so, lord Marcian, having done what I can +for you, though it be little, I entreat your kind remembrance, and +God keep you.' + +Her manner had changed to formal courtesy, and, with this dismissal, +she moved away again. Marcian stood watching her for a moment, then +turned to look at the wide prospect. A minute or two passed; he +heard Heliodora's step approaching. + +'What keeps you here?' she asked coldly. + +'Lady, I am thinking.' + +'Of what?' + +'Of the day soon to come when Totila will be king in Rome.' + +Heliodora's countenance relaxed in a smile. + +'Yet you had nothing more to say to me,' she murmured in a +significant tone. + +'There were much to say, Heliodora, to one whom I knew my friend. I +had dared to think you so.' + +'What proof of friendship does your Amiability ask?' inquired the +lady with a half-mocking, half-earnest look. + +As if murmuring to himself, Marcian uttered the name 'Veranilda.' + +'They say she is far on the way to Constantinople,' said Heliodora. +'If so, and if Bessas sent her, his craft is greater than I thought. +For I have spoken with him, and'--she smiled--'he seems sincere +when he denied all knowledge of the maiden.' + +Marcian still gazed at the distance. Again he spoke as if +unconsciously murmuring his thoughts: + +'Totila advances. In Campania but a few towns still await his +conquest. The Appian Way is open. Ere summer be past he will stand +at the gates of Rome.' + +'Rome is not easily taken,' let fall the listener, also speaking as +though absently. + +'It is more easily surrendered,' was the reply. + +'What! You suspect Bessas of treachery?' + +'We know him indolent and neglectful of duty. Does he not live here +at his ease, getting into his own hands, little by little, all the +wealth of the Romans, careless of what befall if only he may glut +his avarice? He will hold the city as long as may be, only because +the city is his possession. He is obstinate, bull-headed. Yet if one +were found who could persuade him that the cause of the Greeks is +hopeless--that, by holding out to the end, he will merely lose +all, whereas, if he came to terms--' + +Marcian was watching Heliodora's face. He paused. Their eyes met for +an instant. + +'Who can be assured,' asked Heliodora thoughtfully, 'that Totila +will triumph? They say the Patricius will come again.' + +'Too late. Not even Belisarius can undo the work of Alexandros and +these devouring captains. From end to end of Italy, the name of the +Greeks is abhorred; that of Totila is held in honour. He will renew +the kingdom of Theodoric.' + +Marcian saw straight before him the aim of all his intrigue. It was +an aim unselfish, patriotic. Though peril of the gravest lay in +every word he uttered, not this made him tremble, but the fear lest +he had miscalculated, counting too securely on his power to excite +this woman's imagination. For as yet her eye did not kindle. It +might be that she distrusted herself, having learnt already that +Bessas was no easy conquest. Or it might be that he himself was the +subject of her distrust. + +'What is it to _you_?' she suddenly asked, with a fierce gaze. 'Can +the Goth bring Veranilda back to Italy?' + +'I do not believe that she has gone.' + +Marcian had knowledge enough of women, and of Heliodora, to harp on +a personal desire rather than hint at high motive. But he was +impelled by the turmoil of his fears and hopes to excite passions +larger than jealousy. Throwing off all restraint, he spoke with hot +eloquence of all that might be gained by one who could persuade the +Greek commander to open the gates of Rome. Totila was renowned for +his generosity, and desired above all things to reconcile, rather +than subdue, the Roman people; scarce any reward would seem to him +too great for service such as helped this end. + +'Bessas lies before you. Ply your spells; make of him your creature; +then whisper in his ear such promise of infinite gold as will make +his liver melt. For _him_ the baser guerdon; for _you_, O Heliodora, +all the wishes of your noble heart, with power, power, power and +glory unspeakable!' + +Heliodora pondered. Then, without raising her head, she asked +quietly: + +'You speak for the King?' + +'For the King,' was answered in like tone. + +'Come to me again, Marcian, when I have had time for thought.' + +With that they parted. On the same day, Sagaris was bidden as before +to a meeting after nightfall, and again he conversed with a lady +whose face was concealed from him. She began with a gentle reproof, +for he had ventured to present himself at her door, and to beg +audience. Let him be patient; his hour would come, but it must be +when she chose. Many questions did she put to him, all seeming to be +prompted by interest in the Gothic maiden of whom Sagaris had heard +so much. With the simplicity of inordinate conceit, he assured her +that here she had no ground for jealousy; Veranilda he had never +beheld. Softly she corrected his error; her interest in the maiden +was a friendly one. Only let him discover for her where Veranilda +was concealed. Sagaris was led to avow that in this very search he +and his master had been vainly occupied for many a day; it had +carried them, he declared in a whisper, even to the camp of King +Totila. With this the questioner appeared to be satisfied, and the +Syrian was soon dismissed, promises in a caressing voice his sole +reward. + +When Marcian next held speech with Heliodora--it was after some +days--she bore herself more openly. In the course of their talk, +he learnt that she had consulted an astrologer, and with results +wholly favourable to his design. Not only had this man foretold to +her that Totila was destined to reign gloriously over the Italians +for many years, but he saw in Heliodora's own fate a mysterious link +with that of the triumphant king; her, under the Gothic conquest, +great things awaited. 'Do,' was his counsel, 'that which thou hast +in mind.' Hearing all this, Marcian's heart leaped with joy. He +urged her to pursue their end with all the speed that prudence +permitted. For his own part, he would make known to Totila as soon +as might be the hope of his friends in Rome. + +Again some days passed, and Marcian received one of those messages +which at times reached him from the Gothic king. Totila's bidding +was contained in a few words: Let Marcian seek speech with the +deacon Leander. Surprised, but having full confidence in the +messenger, Marcian presently wrote to the deacon in brief terms, +saying that he wished to converse with him regarding a certain +heretic of whom he had hopes. To this came prompt reply, which did +not, however, invite Marcian, as he had expected, to a meeting in +private; but merely said that, on the morrow, an hour after sunrise, +Leander would be found in a certain public place. + +Leander was busied just now in a matter peculiarly con. genial to +him, the destruction of an ancient building in order to enrich with +its columns and precious marbles a new Christian church. At the hour +appointed, Marcian found him in the temple of Minerva Chalcidica, +directing workmen as to what they should remove; before him lay +certain mouldings in green porphyry (the precious _lapis +Lacedaemonius_), which had been carefully broken from their places, +and he was regarding them with the eye of a lover. For the first few +minutes of their conversation, Marcian felt mistrust, as the deacon +appeared to have no intelligence of any secret purpose in this +meeting; but presently, still gossiping of stones, Leander led him +out of the temple and walked in the shadowy public place beside the +Pantheon. + +'That must be purified and consecrated,' he remarked, glancing from +the granite columns of Agrippa's porch to the bronze-tiled dome. +'Too long it has been left to the demons.' + +Marcian, preoccupied as he was, listened with awe. Since the ravage +of the Vandals, no mortal had passed those vast doors, behind which +all the gods of heathendom, known now for devils, lurked in retreat. + +'I have urged it upon the Holy Father,' Leander added. 'But Vigilius +is all absorbed in the dogmatics of Byzantium. A frown of the +Empress Theodora is more to him than the glory of the Omnipotent and +the weal of Christendom.' + +The look which accompanied these words was the first hint to Marcian +that he might speak in confidence. He inquired whether the Pope, as +was reported, would shortly sail for Constantinople. + +'Before another week has passed,' was the reply, 'he will embark. He +would fain go forth'--a malicious smile was in the corner of +Leander's eye--'without leave-taking of his beloved people but +that can scarce be permitted.' + +'Ere he return,' said Marcian, 'things of moment may happen.' + +Again the deacon smiled. Seeing on the steps of the Pantheon a +couple of idlers playing at flash-finger, they turned aside to be +out of earshot. + +'We are agreed, it seems,' remarked Leander quickly, 'that there is +hope of the heretic. You had news of him yesterday? I, also. It may +be in my power to render him some service--presently, presently. +Meanwhile, what can you tell me of the lost maiden about whom there +has been so much talk? Is it true that Bessas has sent her to the +East?' + +Marcian turned his eyes upon the speaker's face, and regarded him +fixedly with a half smile. For a moment the deacon appeared to be +unconscious of this; then he met the familiar look, averted his head +again, and said in the same tone as before: + +'The heretic, I learn, would gladly see her.' + +'It would be as well, I think,' was the reply, 'if his wish were +gratified.' + +'Ah? But how would that please a friend of yours, dear lord?' asked +Leander, with unaffected interest. + +Marcian's answer was in a tone of entire sincerity, very unlike that +he had used when speaking on this subject with Heliodora. + +'It might please him well or ill. The King'--he lowered his voice +a little--'would see with gladness this beautiful maiden of his +own people, sprung too from the royal blood, and would look with +favour upon those who delivered her in safety to him. Should he make +her his queen, and I believe she is worthy of that, the greater his +gratitude to those who prevented her marriage with a Roman. If, on +the other hand, he found that she could not forget her first lover, +Totila is large-hearted enough to yield her up in all honour, and +politic enough to see advantage in her union with the heir of the +Anician house. Between these things, Basil must take his chance. Had +he carried off his love, he would have wedded her in disregard of +every danger; and so long as it was only the Greeks that sought her, +I should have done my best to aid and to protect him. It is +different now. Basil I hold dearer than any friend; his place is in +my very heart, and his happiness is dearer to me than my own; but I +cannot help him to frustrate a desire of Totila. The King is noble; +to serve him is to promote the w_ of Italy, for which he fights, and +in which name he will conquer.' + +The deacon had paused in his walk. He looked thoughtfully about him. +At this moment there came along the street an ox-drawn wagon, on +which lay the marble statue of a deity; Leander stepped up to it, +examined the marble, spoke with the men who were conveying it, and +returned to Marcian with a shake of the head. + +'It pains me to see such carven beauty burnt to lime. And yet how +many thousands of her worshippers are now burning in Gehenna. Lord +Marcian,' he resumed, 'you have spoken earnestly and well, and have +given me good proof of your sincerity. I think with you, and +willingly would work with you.' + +'Reverend, does no opportunity present itself?' + +'In this moment, none that I can see,' was the suave answer. + +'Yet I perceive that you have made some offer of service to the +King.' + +'It is true; and perchance you shall hear more of it. Be not +impatient; great things are not hastily achieved.' + +With sundry other such remarks, so uttered that their triteness +seemed to become the maturity of wisdom, Leander brought the +colloquy to an end. It was his principle to trust no man unless he +were assured of a motive strong enough to make him trustworthy, and +that motive he had not yet discovered in Marcian. Nor, indeed, was +he entirely sure of himself; for though he had gone so far as to +communicate with the Gothic king, it was only in view of +possibilities whose issue he still awaited. If the Pope set forth +for Constantinople, he would leave as representative in Rome the +deacon Pelagius, and from this brother cleric Leander had already +received certain glances, which were not to be misunderstood. The +moment might shortly come when he would need a friend more powerful +than any he had within the city. + +But Vigilius lingered, and Leander, save in his influence with the +irresolute Pontiff, postponed the step he had in view. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +PELAGIUS + + + + +Rome waited. It had been thought that the fall of Neapolis would be +followed by Totila's swift march along the Appian Way; but three +months had passed, and the Gothic king was but little nearer to the +city. He seemed resolved to leave nothing behind him that had not +yielded to his arms; slowly and surely his rule was being +established over all the South. Through the heats of summer, with +pestilence still lurking in her palaces and her dens, no fountain +plashing where the sun blazed on Forum and on street, Rome waited. + +In June Bessas was joined by another of the Greek commanders, +Joannes, famed for his ferocity, and nicknamed the Devourer. A show +of activity in the garrison resulted from this arrival; soldiers +were set to work upon parts of the city wall which needed +strengthening; the Romans began to make ready for a siege; and some, +remembering the horrors of a few years ago, took to flight. There +was much talk of a conspiracy to open the gates to Totila; one or +two senators were imprisoned, and a few Arian priests who still +dwelt in Rome were sentenced to banishment. But when, after a few +weeks, Joannes and his troop marched northward, commotion ceased; +Bessas fell back into the life of indolent rapacity, work on the +walls was soon neglected, and Rome found that she had still only to +wait. + +About this time Marcian fell sick. He had suffered much from +disappointment of high hopes, neither Heliodora nor Leander aiding +his schemes as he expected. The constant danger in which he lived +tried his fortitude to the utmost, and at length he began to burn +with fever. Agonies came upon him, for even the slightest disorder +in these plague-stricken times filled men with fear. And whilst he +lay thus wretched, his servants scarce daring to attend upon him-- +Sagaris refused to enter his chamber, and held himself ready for +flight (with all he could lay hands on) as soon as the physician +should have uttered the fatal word--whilst his brain was confused +and his soul shaken with even worse than the wonted terrors, there +came to visit him the deacon Pelagius. That the visit happened at +this moment was mere chance, but Pelagius, hearing of Marcian's +condition, felt that he could not have come more opportunely. A +courageous man, strong in body as in mind, he was not to be alarmed +by mere talk of the pest; bidding the porter conduct him, he came to +Marcian's bedside, and there sat for half an hour. When he went +away, his handsome countenance wore a smile of thoughtful +satisfaction. + +As though this conversation had relieved him, the sick man at once +began to mend. But with his recovery came another torment. Lying in +fear of death and hell, he had opened his soul to Pelagius, and had +revealed secrets upon which depended all he cared for in this world. +Not only he himself was ruined, but the lives of those he had +betrayed were in jeopardy. That suspicion was busy with him he knew; +the keen-sighted deacon had once already held long talk with him, +whereupon followed troublesome interrogation by Bessas, who had +since regarded him with somewhat a sullen eye. How would Pelagius +use the knowledge he had gained? Even when quite recovered from the +fever, Marcian did not venture to go forth, lest an enemy should be +waiting for him without. In his weak, dejected and humbled state he +thought of the peace of a monastery, and passed most of his time in +prayer. + +But when a few days had passed without event, and increasing +strength enabled him to think less brain-sickly, he began to ask +whether he himself had not peradventure been betrayed It was a long +time since he had seen Heliodora, who appeared to be making no +effort for the conquest of the Greek commander; had she merely +failed, and lost courage, or did the change in her mean treachery? +To trust Heliodora was to take a fool's risk; even a little wound to +her vanity might suffice to turn her against him. At their last +meeting she had sat with furrowed brows, brooding as if over some +wrong, and when he urged her for an explanation of her mood, she was +first petulant, then fiery, so that he took umbrage and left her. +Happily she knew none of his graver secrets, much though she had +tried to discover them. Were she traitorous, she could betray him +alone. + +But he, in the wreck of his manhood, had uttered many names besides +hers--that of Basil, from whom he had recently heard news, that of +the politic Leander, those of several nobles engaged in the Gothic +cause. Scarcely could he believe that he had been guilty of such +baseness; he would fain have persuaded himself that it was but a +memory of delirium. He cursed the subtlety of Pelagius, which had +led him on till everything was uttered. Pelagius, the bosom friend +of Justinian, would know how to deal with plotters against the +Empire. Why had he not already struck? What cunning held his hand? + +Unable at length to sit in idleness, he tried to ease his conscience +by sending a warning to Basil, using for this purpose the +trustworthy slave who, in many disguises, was wont to travel with +his secret messages. This man wore false hair so well fixed upon his +head that it could not attract attention; the letter he had to +deliver was laid beneath an artificial scalp. + +'Be on your guard,' thus Marcian wrote. 'Some one has made known to +the Greeks that you are arming men, and for what purpose. Delay no +longer than you must in joining the King. In him is your only hope, +if hope there still can be. I, too, shall soon be in the camp.' + +These last words were for his friend's encouragement. As soon as the +letter had been despatched, he went forth about Rome in his usual +way, spoke with many persons, and returned home unscathed. Plainly, +then, he was to be left at liberty yet awhile; Pelagius had purposes +to serve. Next day, he betook himself to the Palatine; Bessas +received him with bluff friendliness, joked about his escape from +death (for every one believed that he had had the plague), and +showed no sign of the mistrust which had marked their last meeting. +In gossip with certain Romans who were wont to hang about the +commander, flattering and fawning upon him for their base advantage, +he learnt that no one had yet succeeded to the place left vacant by +the hapless Muscula; only in casual amours, generally of the +ignoblest, did Bessas bestow his affections. Of Heliodora there was +no talk. + +Another day he passed in sauntering; nothing that he could perceive +in those with whom he talked gave hint of menace to his safety. +Then, early the next morning, he turned his steps to the Quirinal. +As usual, he was straightway admitted to Heliodora's house, but had +to wait awhile until the lady could receive him. Gloomily +thoughtful, standing with eyes fixed upon those of the great bust of +Berenice, he was startled by a sudden cry from within the house, the +hoarse yell of a man in agony; it was repeated, and became a long +shriek, rising and falling in terrible undulation. He had stepped +forward to seek an explanation, when Heliodora's eunuch smilingly +came to meet him. + +'What is that?' asked Marcian, his nerves a-quiver. + +'The noble lady has ordered a slave to be punished,' was the +cheerful reply. + +'What is his fault?' + +'Illustrious, I know not,' answered the eunuch more gravely. + +The fearful sounds still continuing, Marcian turned as though to +hurry away; but the eunuch, following, implored him not to go, for +his departure would but increase Heliodora's wrath. So for a few +more minutes he endured the horror of that unbroken yell. When it +ceased, he could hear his heart beating. + +Summoned at length to the lady's presence, he found her lying in the +chamber of the Hermaphrodite. A strange odour floated in the air, +overcoming that of wonted perfumes. + +Faint with a sudden nausea, Marcian performed no courtesy, but stood +regarding the living woman much as he had gazed at the face in +marble, absent and sombre-browed. + +'What now?' were Heliodora's first words, her smile fading in +displeasure. + +'Must we needs converse in your torture-chamber?' asked Marcian. + +'Are your senses more delicate than mine?' + +'It seems so. I could wish I had chosen another hour for visiting +you.' + +'It was well chosen,' said Heliodora, regarding him fixedly. 'This +slave I have chastised, shall I tell you of what he was guilty? He +has a blabbing tongue.' + +'I see not how that concerns me,' was his cold reply, as he met her +look with steady indifference. + +From her lounging attitude Heliodora changed suddenly to one in +which, whilst seated, she bent forward as though about to spring at +him. + +'How comes it that Bessas knows every word that has passed between +us?' broke fiercely from her lips. + +In an instant Marcian commanded himself, shrugged his shoulders, and +laughed. + +'That is a question,' he said, 'to put to your astrologer, your +oneirocritic, your genethliac. I profess not to read mysteries.' + +'Liar!' she shot out. 'How could he have had it but from your own +lips?' + +Marcian betook himself to his utmost dissimulation, and the talk of +the next few minutes--on his part, deliberately provocative; on +hers, recklessly vehement--instructed him in much that he had +desired to learn. It was made clear to him that a long combat of +wills and desires had been in progress between the crafty courtesan +and the half wily and the half brutal soldier, with a baffling of +Heliodora's devices which would never have come to his knowledge but +for this outbreak of rage. How far the woman had gone in her lures, +whether she had played her last stake, he could not even now +determine; but he suspected that only such supreme defeat could +account for the fury in which he beheld her. Bessas, having (as was +evident) heard the secret from Pelagius, might perchance have played +the part of a lover vanquished by his passions, and then, after +winning his end by pretence of treachery to the Emperor, had broken +into scoffing revelation. That were a triumph after the Thracian's +heart. Having read thus far in the past, Marcian had to turn anxious +thought upon the future, for his position of seeming security could +not long continue. He bent himself to allay the wrath he had +excited. Falling of a sudden into a show of profound distress, he +kept silence for a little, then murmured bitterly: + +'I see what has happened. When the fever was upon me, my mind +wandered, and I talked.' + +So convincing was the face, the tone, so plausible the explanation, +that Heliodora drew slowly back, her fury all but quenched. She +questioned him as to the likely betrayer, and the name of Sagaris +having been mentioned, used the opportunity to learn what she could +concerning the man. + +'I cannot promise to give him up to you to be tortured,' said +Marcian, with his characteristic smile of irony. + +'That I do not ask. But,' she added significantly, 'will you send +him here, and let me use gentler ways of discovering what I can?' + +'That, willingly.' + +And when Marcian went away, he reflected that all was not yet lost. +For Heliodora still had faith in the prophecy of her astrologer; she +was more resolute than ever in her resolve to triumph over Bessas; +she could gain nothing to this end by helping her confederate's +ruin. Before parting, they had agreed that Marcian would do well to +affect ignorance of the discovery Bessas had made; time and events +must instruct them as to the projects of their enemies, and guide +their own course. + +That same day, he despatched the Syrian with a letter to Heliodora, +and on the man's return spoke with him as if carelessly of his +commission. He remarked that the face of Sagaris shone as though +exultantly, but no indiscreet word dropped from the vaunter's lips. +A useful fellow, murmured Marcian within himself, and smiled +contempt. + +Another day or two of indecision, then in obedience to an impulse he +could no longer resist, he sought speech with the deacon Pelagius. +Not without trouble was this obtained, for Pelagius was at all times +busy, always beset by suitors of every degree, the Romans holding +him in high reverence, and making their appeals to him rather than +to the Pope, for whom few had a good word. When at last Marcian was +admitted to the deacon's presence, he found himself disconcerted by +the long, silent scrutiny of eyes deep read in the souls of men. No +word would reach his lips. + +'I have been expecting you,' said the deacon at length, gravely, but +without severity. 'You have made no haste to come.' + +'Most reverend,' replied Marcian, in a tone of the deepest reproach, +'I knew not certainly whether I had indeed made confession to you, +or if it was but a dream of fever.' + +Pelagius smiled. He was standing by a table, and his hand lay upon +an open volume. + +'You are of noble blood, lord Marcian,' he continued, 'and the +greatness of your ancestors is not unknown to you. Tell me by what +motive you have been induced to play the traitor against Rome. I +cannot think it was for the gain that perishes. Rather would I +suppose you misled by the opinion of Cassiodorus, whose politics +were as unsound as his theology. I read here, in his treatise _De +Anima_, that there is neither bliss nor torment for the soul before +the great Day of Judgment--a flagrant heresy, in utter +contradiction of the Scriptures, and long ago refuted by the holy +Augustine. Can you trust in worldly matters one who is so blinded to +the clearest truths of eternity?' + +'I confess,' murmured the listener, 'that I thought him justified in +his support of the Gothic kingdom.' + +'You are content, then, you whose ancestors have sat in the Senate, +to be ruled by barbarians? You, a Catholic, revolt not against the +dominions of Arians? And so little is your foresight, your +speculation, that you dream of permanent conquest of Italy by this +leader of a barbaric horde? I tell you, lord Marcian, that ere +another twelvemonth has passed, the Goths will be defeated, +scattered, lost. The Emperor is preparing a great army, and before +the end of summer Belisarius will again land on our shores. Think +you Totila can stand against him? Be warned; consider with yourself. +Because your confession had indeed something of sickness in it, I +have forborne to use it against you as another might have done. But +not with impunity can you resume your traitorous practices; of that +be assured.' + +He paused, looking sternly into Marcian's face. + +'I have no leisure to debate with you, to confute your errors. One +thing only will I add, before dismissing you to ponder what I have +uttered. It is in your power to prove your return to reason and the +dignity of a Roman; I need not say how; the occasion will surely ere +long present itself, and leave you in no doubt as to my meaning. +Remember, then, how I have dealt with you; remember, also, that no +such indulgence will be granted to a renewal of your crime against +Rome, your sin against God.' + +Marcian dropped to his knees; there was a moment of silence; then he +arose and went forth. + +A week passed, and there came the festival of St. Laurentius. All +Rome streamed out to the basilica beyond the Tiburtine Gate, and +among those who prayed most fervently at the shrine was Marcian. He +besought guidance in an anguish of doubt. Not long ago, in the early +days of summer, carnal temptation had once more overcome him, and +the sufferings, the perils, of this last month he attributed to that +lapse from purity. His illness was perhaps caused by excess of +rigour in penitence. To-day he prayed with many tears that the Roman +martyr would enlighten him, and make him understand his duty to +Rome. + +As he was leaving the church, a hand touched him; he turned, and +beheld the deacon Leander, who led him apart. + +'It is well that I have met you,' said the cleric, with less than +his usual bland deliberation. 'A messenger is at your house to bid +you come to me this evening. Can you leave Rome to-morrow?' + +'On what mission?' + +Leander pursed his lips for a moment, rolled his eyes hither and +thither, and said with a cautious smile: + +'That for which you have been waiting.' + +With difficulty Marcian dissembled his agitation. Was this the +saint's reply to his prayer? Or was it a temptation of the Evil +Power, which it behoved him to resist? + +'I am ready,' he said, off-hand. + +'You will be alone for the first day's journey, and in the evening +you will be met by such attendants as safety demands. Do you +willingly undertake the charge? Or is there some new danger which +you had not foreseen?' + +'There is none,' replied Marcian, 'and I undertake the charge right +willingly.' + +'Come to me, then, at sunset. The travel is planned in every detail, +and the letters ready. What follower goes with you?' + +'The same as always--Sagaris.' + +'Confide nothing to him until you are far from Rome. Better if you +need not even then.' + +Leander broke off the conference, and walked away at a step quicker +than his wont. But Marcian, after lingering awhile in troubled +thought, returned to the martyr's grave. Long he remained upon his +knees, the conflict within him so violent that he could scarce find +coherent words of prayer. Meanwhile the August sky had clouded, and +thunder was beginning to roll. As he went forth again, a flash of +lightning dazzled him. He saw that it was on the left hand, and took +courage to follow the purpose that had shaped in his thoughts. + +That evening, after an hour's close colloquy with Leander, he betook +himself by circuitous way to the dwelling of Pelagius, and with him +again held long talk. Then went home, through the dark, still +streets, to such slumber as his conscience might permit. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +THE PRISONER OF PRAENESTE + + + + +On the morrow of St. Laurentius, at that point of dawn when a man +can recognise the face of one who passes, there issued from the +Lateran a silent company equipped for travel. In a covered carriage +drawn by two horses sat the Pope, beside him a churchman of his +household; a second carriage conveyed the deacon Leander and another +ecclesiastic; servants and a baggage vehicle brought up the rear. +With what speed it could over the ill-paved roads, this procession +made for the bank of the Tiber below the Aventine, where, hard by +the empty public granaries, a ship lay ready to drop down stream. It +was a flight rather than a departure. Having at length made up his +mind to obey the Emperor's summons, Vigilius endeavoured to steal +away whilst the Romans slept off their day of festival. But he was +not suffered to escape thus. Before he had reached the place of +embarkation, folk began to run shouting behind his carriage. Ere he +could set foot on board the vessel a crowd had gathered. The +farewell of the people to their supreme Pontiff was given in a +volley of stones and potsherds, whilst the air rang with +maledictions. + +Notwithstanding his secret hostility, Leander had of late crept into +Vigilius' confidence, thus protecting himself against his formidable +adversary Pelagius. He was now the Pope's travelling companion as +far as Sicily. Had he remained in Rome, the authority of Pelagius +would have fallen heavily upon him, and he could scarce have escaped +the humiliation of yielding his Gothic captive to Justinian's +friend. Apprised only a day before of Vigilius' purpose, he had +barely time to plot with Marcian for the conveyance of Veranilda to +Totila's camp. This had long been his intention, for, convinced that +Totila would rule over Italy, he saw in the favour of the king not +only a personal advantage, but the hope of the Western Church in its +struggle with Byzantium. Driven at length to act hurriedly, he +persuaded himself that he could use no better agent than Marcian, +who had so deeply pledged himself to the Gothic cause. Of what had +passed between Marcian and Pelagius he of course knew nothing. So, +as the ship moved seaward upon tawny Tiber, and day flamed upon the +Alban hills, Leander laughed within himself. He enjoyed a plot for +its own sake, and a plot, long savoured, which gave him triumph over +ecclesiastical rivals, and even over the Emperor Justinian, was well +worth the little risk that might ensue When he returned to Rome, it +would doubtless be with the victorious Goth--safe, jubilant, and +ere long to be seated in the chair of the Apostle. + +At the same hour Marcian was riding along the Praenestine Way, the +glory of summer sunrise straight before him. The thought most active +in his mind had nothing to do with the contest of nations or with +the fate of Rome: it was that on the morrow he should behold +Veranilda. For a long time he had ceased to think of her; her name +came to his lips in connection with artifice and intrigue, but the +maiden herself had faded into nothingness, no longer touched his +imagination. He wondered at that fantastic jealousy of Basil from +which he had suffered. This morning, the caress of the warm air, the +scents wafted about him as he rode over the great brown wilderness, +revived his bygone mood. Again he mused on that ideal loveliness +which he attributed to the unseen Veranilda For nearly a year she +had been sought in vain by her lover, by Greek commanders, by +powerful churchmen; she had been made the pretext of far-reaching +plots and conspiracies; her name had excited passions vehement and +perilous, had been the cause of death. Now he was at length to look +upon her; nay, she was to pass into his guardianship, and be by him +delivered into the hands of the warrior king. Dreaming, dreaming, he +rode along the Praenestine Way. + +Though the personal dignity of Pelagius and the calm force of his +speech had awed and perturbed him, Marcian soon recovered his +habitual mind. He had thought and felt too deeply regarding public +affairs to be so easily converted from the cause for which he lived. +A new treachery was imposed upon him. When, after receiving all his +instructions from Leander, he went to see Pelagius, it was in order +to secure his own safety and the fulfilment of his secret mission by +a seeming betrayal of him he served. He knew that his every movement +was watched; he could not hope to leave Rome without being stopped +and interrogated. If he desired to carry out Leander's project-- +and he desired it the more ardently the longer he reflected--his +only course was this. Why did it agitate him more than his treachery +hitherto? Why did he shake and perspire when he left Pelagius, after +promising to bring Veranilda to Rome? He knew not himself--unless +it were due to a fear that he might perform his promise. + +This fear it was, perhaps, which had filled his short sleep with +dreams now terrible, now luxurious. This fear it was which caught +hold of him, at length distinct and intelligible, when, on turning +his head towards the city soon after sunrise, he became aware of a +group of horsemen following him at a distance of half a mile or so. +Thus had it been agreed with Pelagius. The men were to follow him, +without approaching, to a certain point of his journey, then would +close about him and his attendants, who would be inferior in number, +and carry them, with the Gothic maiden, back to Rome. At the sight +Marcian drew rein, and for a moment sat in his saddle with bent +head, suffering strangely. Sagaris came up to his side, regarded him +with anxious eye, and asked whether the heat of the sun's rays +incommoded him; whereupon he made a negative sign and rode on. + +He tried to laugh. Had he forgotten the subtlety of his plot for +deceiving Pelagius? To have made known to the deacon where Veranilda +really was, would have been a grave fault in strategy. These armed +horsemen imagined that a two days' journey lay before them, whereas +the place of Veranildas imprisonment would be reached this evening. +The artifice he had elaborated was, to be sure, full of hazard; +accident might disconcert everything; the instruments upon whom he +reckoned might fail him. But not because of this possibility was his +heart so miserably perturbed. It was himself that he dreaded--the +failure of his own purpose, the treachery of his own will. + +On he rode in the full eye of the August sun. The vast, undulant +plain spread around him; its farms, villas, aqueducts no less +eloquent of death than the tombs by the wayside its still air and +the cloudless azure above speaking to a man's soul as with the voice +of eternity. Marcian was very sensible of such solemn influence. +More than once, in traversing this region, he had been moved to bow +his head in devotion purer than that which commonly inspired his +prayers, but to-day he knew not a moment's calm. All within him was +turbid, subject to evil thoughts. + +A little before noon he made his first halt. Amid the ruins of a +spacious villa two or three peasant families had their miserable +home, with a vineyard, a patch of tilled soil, and a flock of goats +for their sustenance. Here the travellers, sheltered from the fierce +sun, ate of the provisions they carried, and lay resting for a +couple of hours. Marcian did not speak with the peasants, but he +heard the voice of a woman loud in lamentation, and Sagaris told him +that it was for the death of a child, who, straying yesterday at +nightfall, had been killed by a wolf. Many hours had the mother wept +and wailed, only interrupting her grief to vilify and curse the +saint to whose protection her little one was confided. + +When he resumed his journey, Marcian kept glancing back until he +again caught sight of the company of horsemen; they continued to +follow him at the same distance. On he rode, the Alban hills at his +right hand, and before him, on its mountain side, the town for which +he made. The sun was yet far from setting when he reached Praeneste. +Its great walls and citadel towering on the height above told of +ancient strength, and many a noble building, within the city and +without, monuments of glory and luxury, resisted doom. Sulla's +Temple of Fortune still looked down upon its columned terraces, but +behind the portico was a Christian church, and where once abode the +priests of the heathen sanctuary, the Bishop of Praeneste had now +his dwelling. Thither did Marcian straightway betake himself. The +bishop, a friend and ally of Leander, received him with cordiality, +and eagerly read the letter he brought. Asked whether Vigilius had +left Rome, Marcian was able to tell something of the Pope's +departure, having heard the story just before his own setting forth; +whereat the prelate, a man of jovial aspect, laughed unrestrainedly. + +'To supper! to supper!' he exclaimed with hospitable note. 'Time +enough for our business afterwards.' + +But Marcian could not postpone what he had to say. Begging the +bishop's patience, he told how all day long he had been followed by +certain horsemen from Rome, who assuredly were sent to track him. +His servant, he added, was watching for their entrance into the +town, and would observe where they lodged. This, the bishop +admitted, was a matter of some gravity. + +'Your guard is ready,' he said. 'Six stout fellows on good horses. +But these pursuers outman you. Let me think, let me think.' + +Marcian had but to suggest his scheme. This was, to resume his +journey as soon as the townsfolk were all asleep, and travel through +the night, for there was a moon all but at the full. He might thus +gain so much advance of his pursuers that they would not be able to +overtake him before he came to the nearest outpost of the Gothic +army. After reflection, the bishop gave his approval to this +project, and undertook that all should be ready at the fitting hour. +He himself would accompany them to the gate of the town, and see +them safely on their way. To make surer, Marcian used another +device. When he had learned the quarters of the pursuing horsemen he +sent Sagaris privily to speak with their leader, warning him to be +ready to ride at daybreak. Such a message had of course nothing +unexpected for its recipient, who looked upon Marcian as secretly +serving Pelagius. It put his mind at ease and released him from the +necessity of keeping a night watch. Sagaris, totally ignorant of his +master's mission, and of the plans that had just been formed, +imagined himself an intermediary in some plot between Marcian and +the leader of the horsemen, and performed the deceitful office in +all good faith. + +The bishop and his guest sat down to supper in an ancient room, of +which the floor was a mosaic representing an Egyptian landscape, +with a multitude of figures. Marcian would gladly have asked +questions about Veranilda; how long she had been at Praeneste, +whether the lady Aurelia was in the same convent, and many other +things; but he did not venture to make known how little he had +enjoyed of Leander's confidence. His reverend host spoke not at all +on this subject, which evidently had no interest for him, but +abounded in inquiries as to the state of things ecclesiastical at +Rome. The supper was excellent; it pained the good prelate that his +guest seemed to have so poor an appetite. He vaunted the quality of +everything on the table, and was especially enthusiastic about a +wine of the south, very aromatic, which had come to him as a present +from his friend the Bishop of Rhegium, together with a certain +cheese of Sila, exquisite in thymy savour, whereof he ate with +prodigious gusto. + +It was about the third hour of the night when Sagaris, to his +astonishment, was aroused from a first sleep, and bidden prepare at +once for travel. Following his master and the bishop, who were not +otherwise attended, he passed through a garden to a postern, where, +by dim lantern light, he saw, in the street without, a small covered +carriage drawn by four mules, and behind it several men on +horseback; his master's horse and his own were also in readiness at +the door. He mounted, the carriage moved forward; and by a steep +descent which needed extreme caution, the gate of the city was soon +reached. Here the bishop, who had walked beside Marcian, spoke a +word with two drowsy watchmen sitting by the open gateway, bade his +guest an affectionate farewell, and stood watching for a few minutes +whilst vehicle and riders moved away in the moonlight. + +Finding himself well sped from Praeneste, where his pursuers lay +sound asleep, Marcian felt an extravagant joy; he could scarce +command himself to speak a few necessary words, in an ordinary tone, +to the leader of the guard with which he was provided; to shout, to +sing, would have better suited his mood. Why he thrilled with such +exultancy he could not have truly said; but a weight seemed to be +lifted from his mind, and he told himself that the relief was due to +knowing that he had done with treachery, done with double-dealing, +done with the shame and the peril of such a life as he had led for +years. Never could he return to Rome save with the Gothic King; in +beguiling Pelagius, he had thrown in his lot irrevocably with the +enemies of the Greeks. Now he would play the part of an honest man; +his heart throbbed at the thought. + +But all this time his eyes were fixed upon the closed vehicle, +behind which he rode; and was it indeed the thought of having gained +freedom which made his heart so strangely beat? He pushed his horse +as near as possible to the carriage; he rode beside it; he stretched +out his hand and touched it. As soon as the nature of the road +permitted, he gave an order to make better speed, and his horse +began to trot; he thought less of the danger from which he was +fleeing than of the place of rest where Veranilda would step down +from the carriage, and he would look upon her face. + +Under the great white moon, the valley into which they were +descending lay revealed in every feature, and the road itself was as +well illumined as by daylight. On they sped, as fast as the mules +could be driven. Near or far sounded from time to time the howl of a +wolf, answered by the fierce bark of dogs in some farm or village; +the hooting of owls broke upon the stillness, or the pipe of toads +from a marshy hollow. By the wayside would be seen moving stealthily +a dark form, which the travellers knew to be a bear, but they met no +human being, nor anywhere saw the gleam of a light in human +habitation. Coming within view of some temple of the old religion, +all crossed themselves and murmured a prayer, for this was the hour +when the dethroned demons had power over the bodies and the souls of +men. + +After a long descent they struck into the Via Latina, still in spite +of long neglect almost as good a road as when the legions marched +over its wheel-furrowed stones. If the information on which Leander +had calculated was correct, some three days' journey by this way +would bring them within reach of the Gothic king; but Marcian was +now debating with himself at what point he should quit the high +road, so as to make certain his escape, in case the Greek horsemen +began a chase early on the morrow. To the left lay a mountainous +region, with byways and little ancient towns, in old time the +country of the Hernici; beyond, a journey of two good days, flowed +the river Liris, and there, not far from the town of Arpinum, was +Marcian's ancestral villa. Of this he thought, as his horse trotted +beside or behind the carriage. It was much out of his way; surely +there would be no need to go so far in order to baffle pursuers. Yet +still he thought of his villa, islanded in the Liris, and seemed to +hear through the night the music of tumbling waters, and said within +his heart, 'Could I not there lie safe?' + +Safe?--from the Greeks, that is to say, if they persistently +searched for him. Safe, until a messenger could reach Totila, and +let him know that Veranilda was rescued. + +An hour after midnight, one of the mules' traces broke. In the +silence of the stoppage, whilst the driver was mending the harness +as best he could, Marcian alighted, stepped to the side of the +vehicle, laid a hand on the curtain which concealed those within, +and spoke in a subdued voice. + +'Is all well with you, lady?' + +'As well,' came the answer, 'as it can be with one who dreads her +unknown fate.' + +The soft accents made Marcian tremble. He expected to hear a sweet +voice, but this was sweeter far than he could have imagined: its +gentleness, its sadness, utterly overcame him, so that he all but +wept in his anguish of delight. + +'Have no fear,' he whispered eagerly. 'It is freedom that awaits +you. I am Marcian--Marcian, the friend of Basil.' + +There sounded a low cry of joy; then the two names were repeated, +his and that of his friend, and again Marcian quivered. + +'You will be no more afraid?' he said, as though laughingly. + +'Oh no! The Blessed Virgin be thanked!' + +An owl's long hoot wailed through the stillness, seeming to fill +with its infinite melancholy the great vault of moonlit heaven. In +Marcian it produced a sudden, unaccountable fear. Leaping on to his +horse, he cursed the driver for slowness. Another minute, and they +were speeding onward. + +Marcian watched anxiously the course of the silver orb above them. +When it began to descend seaward, the animals were showing signs of +weariness; before daybreak he must perforce call a halt. In +conversation with the leader of his guard, he told the reason of +their hasting on by night (known already to the horseman, a trusted +follower of the Bishop of Praeneste), and at length announced his +resolve to turn off the Latin Way into the mountains, with the view +of gaining the little town Aletrium, whence, he explained, they +could cross the hills to the valley of the Liris, and so descend +again to the main road. It was the man's business to obey; he let +fall a few words, however, concerning the dangers of the track; it +was well known that bands of marauders frequented this country, +moving onward before the slow advance of the Gothic troops. Marcian +reflected, but none the less held to his scheme. The beasts were +urged along an upward way, which, just about the setting of the +moon, brought them to a poor village with a little church. Marcian +set himself to discover the priest, and, when this good man was +roused from slumber, spoke in his ear a word which had great effect. +With little delay stabling was found, and a place of repose for +Marcian's followers; he himself would rest under the priest's roof, +whither he conducted Veranilda and a woman servant who sat with her +in the carriage. The face which was so troubling his imagination he +did not yet see, for Veranilda kept the hood close about her as she +passed by candle light up steps to the comfortless and dirty little +chamber which was the best she could have. + +'Rest in peace,' whispered Marcian as the door closed. 'I guard +you.' + +For an hour or more he sat talking with his host over a pitcher of +wine, found how far he was from Aletrium, and heard with +satisfaction that the brigand bands seemed to have gone higher into +the mountains. The presbyter asked eagerly for Roman news, and +cautiously concerning King Totila, whom it was evident he regarded +with no very hostile feeling. As the day broke he stretched himself +on his host's bed, there being no other for him, and there dozed for +two or three hours, far too agitated to enjoy a sound sleep. + +When he arose, he went forth into the already hot sunshine, looked +at the poor peasants' cottages, and talked with Sagaris, whose +half-smiling face seemed anxious to declare that he knew perfectly +well on what business they were engaged. At this hour, in all +probability, the horsemen of Pelagius were galloping along the Latin +Way, in hope of overtaking the fugitives. It seemed little likely +that they would search in this direction, and the chances were that +they would turn back when their horses got tired out. Of them, +indeed, Marcian thought but carelessly; his hard-set brows betokened +another subject of disquiet. Should he, after Aletrium, go down +again to the Latin Way, or should he push a few miles further to the +valley of the Liris, and to his own villa? + +To-day, being the first day of the week, there was a gathering to +hear mass. Marcian, though he had that in his mind which little +accorded with religious worship, felt himself drawn to the little +church, and knelt among the toil-worn folk. Here, as always when he +heard the liturgy, his heart melted, his soul was overcome with awe. +From earliest childhood he had cherished a peculiar love and +reverence for the Eucharistic prayer, which was associated with his +noblest feelings, his purest aspirations. As he heard it now, here +amid the solitude of the hills, it brought him help such as he +needed. + +'Vere dignum et justum est, aequum et salutare, nos tibi semper et +ubique gratias agere, Domine sancte, Pater omnipotens, aeterne +Deus.' + +When at the end he rose, these words were still resonant within him. +He turned to go forth, and there behind, also just risen from her +knees, stood a veiled woman, at the sight of whom he thrilled with +astonishment. No peasant she; for her attire, though but little +adorned, told of refinement, and the grace of her figure, the simple +dignity of her attitude, would alone have marked her out among the +girls and women who were leaving the church, their eyes all turned +upon her and on the female attendant standing respectfully near. +Through the veil which covered her face and hung about her +shoulders, Marcian could dimly discern lips and eyebrows. + +'Lord Marcian, may I speak with you?' + +It was the voice of last night, and again it shook him with an +ecstasy which had more of dread than of joy. + +'You here?' he replied, speaking very low. 'You have heard the +mass?' + +'I am a Catholic. My religion is that of Basil.' + +'God be thanked!' broke from Marcian. And his exclamation meant more +than it conveyed to the listener. + +'May you tell me whither we are going?' was the next question from +the veiled lips. + +The church was now empty, but in the doorway appeared faces +curiously peering. Marcian looking in that direction seemed for a +moment to find no reply; his lips were parted, and his breath came +rapidly; then he whispered: + +'Not far from here there is a villa. There you shall rest in safety +until Basil comes.' + +'He is near?' + +'Already I have summoned him.' + +'O kind Marcian!' uttered the low, sweet voice. 'Oh, true and brave +friend!' + +In silence they walked together to the priest's house. Marcian had +now put off all irresolution. He gave orders to his guard; as soon +as the horses had sufficiently rested, they would push on for +Aletrium, and there pass the night. The start was made some two +hours after noon. Riding once more beside the carriage, Marcian felt +his heart light: passions and fears were all forgotten; the sun +flaming amid the pale blue sky, the violet shadows of the mountains, +the voice of cicadas made rapture to his senses. It was as though +Veranilda's beauty, not even yet beheld, rayed something of itself +upon all the visible world. Never had a summer's day shone so +gloriously for him; never had he so marked the hues of height and +hollow, the shape of hills, the winding of a stream. Where an ascent +made the pace slow, he alighted, walked by the vehicle, and +exchanged a few words with her who sat behind the curtain. + +At length Aletrium came in view, a little town in a strong position +on the mountain side, its walls and citadel built in old time, long +unused for defence, but resisting ages with their cyclopean force. +On arriving, they found a scene of disorder, misery and fear. This +morning the place had been attacked by a brigand horde, which had +ravaged at will: the church was robbed of its sacred vessels, the +beasts of burden were driven away, and, worst of all, wives and +daughters of the defenceless townsmen had suffered outrage. Marcian, +with that air of authority which he well knew how to assume, +commanded the attendance of the leading citizens and spoke with them +in private. Finding them eager for the arrival of the Goths, to whom +they looked rather than to the distant Greeks for protection against +ruinous disorder (already they had despatched messengers to Totila +entreating his aid), he made known to them that he was travelling to +meet the Gothic outposts, and promised to hasten the king's advance. +At present, there seemed to be no more danger, the marauders having +gone on into the Apennines; so Marcian obtained lodging for +Veranilda and for himself in the priest's house. Only when he was +alone did he reflect upon the narrowness of his escape from those +fierce plunderers, and horror shook him. There remained but half a +day's journey to his villa. He was so impatient to arrive there, and +to dismiss the horsemen, that though utterly wearied, he lay awake +through many hours of darkness, hearing the footsteps of men who +patrolled the streets, and listening with anxious ear for any sound +of warning. + +He rose in the twilight, and again held conference with those of the +townsmen who were stoutest in the Gothic cause. To them he announced +that he should travel this day as far as Arpinum (whither he was +conducting a lady who desired to enter a convent hard by that city), +and thence should proceed in search of Totila, for whom, he assured +his hearers, he carried letters of summons from the leading +churchmen at Rome. This news greatly cheered the unhappy Aletrians, +who had been troubled by the thought that the Goths were heretics. +If Roman ecclesiastics closed their eyes to this obstacle, the +inhabitants of a little mountain town evidently need nurse no +scruples in welcoming the conqueror. With acclamations and good +wishes, the crowd saw Marcian and his train set forth along the road +over the hills; before the sun had shed its first beam into the +westward valley, they had lost sight of Aletrium. + +Not a word of the perils escaped had been allowed to reach +Veranilda's ear; exhausted by her journeying and her emotions, she +had slept soundly through the whole night, and this morning, when +Marcian told her how near was their destination, she laughed +light-heartedly as a child. But not yet had he looked upon her +countenance. At Aletrium he might have done so had he willed, but he +withheld himself as if from a dread temptation. + +Never had he known such tremours of cowardliness as on this ride +over the hills. He strained his eyes in every direction, and +constantly imagined an enemy where there was none. The brigands, as +he found by inquiry of labouring peasants, had not even passed this +way. He would not halt, though the heat of the sun grew terrible. At +length, when exhaustion threatened men and beasts, they surmounted a +ridge, issued from a forest of chestnut-trees, and all at once, but +a little way below them, saw the gleam of the river Liris. + + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +THE ISLAND IN THE LIRIS + + + + +Not yet the '_taciturnus amnis_,' which it becomes in the broad, +seaward valley far below, the Liris at this point parts into two +streams, enclosing a spacious island, and on either side of the +island leaps with sound and foam, a river kindred to the mountains +which feed its flood. Between the two cataracts, linked to the river +banks with great arched bridges, stood Marcian's villa. Never more +than a modest country house, during the last fifty years an almost +total neglect had made of the greater part an uninhabitable ruin. A +score of slaves and peasants looked after what remained of the +dwelling and cultivated the land attached to it, garden, oliveyard, +vineyard, partly on the island, partly beyond the river in the +direction of Arpinum, which historic city, now but sparsely peopled, +showed on the hillside a few miles away. Excepting his house in +Rome, this was all the property that Marcian possessed. It was dear +to him because of the memories of his childhood, and for another +reason which sprang out of the depths of his being: on the night +after his mother's death (he was then a boy much given to seeing +visions) her spirit appeared to him, and foretold that he too should +die in this house 'at peace with God.' This phrase, on which he had +often brooded, Marcian understood to mean that he should reach old +age; and it had long been his settled intention to found in the +ruinous villa a little monastery, to which, when his work was over, +he could retire to pass the close of life. And now, as he rode down +behind the carriage, he was striving to keep his thought fixed on +this pious purpose. He resolved that he would not long delay. As +soon as Veranilda was safe, he would go on foot, as a pilgrim, to +the monastery at Casinum, which were but two or three days' journey, +and speak of his intention to the aged and most holy Benedict. Thus +fortified, he rode with bright visage down into the valley, and over +the bridge, and so to his own gate. + +The steward and the housekeeper, who were man and wife, speedily +stood before him, and he bade them make ready with all expedition +certain chambers long unoccupied, merely saying that a lady would +for some days be his guest. Whilst Sagaris guided the horsemen to +the stables, and received them hospitably in the servants' quarter, +Marcian, using a more formal courtesy than hitherto, conducted his +charge into the great hall, and begged her to be seated for a few +minutes, until her room was prepared. Seeing that fatigue scarce +suffered her to reply, he at once withdrew, leaving her alone with +her handmaiden. And yet he had not beheld Veranilda's face. + +Himself unable to take repose, he strayed about the purlieus of the +villa, in his ears the sound of rushing water, before his eyes a +flitting vision which he would not see. He had heard from his +steward the latest news of the countryside; it was said in Arpinum +that the Gothic forces were at length assembled for the march on +Rome; at Aquinum Totila would be welcomed, and what resistance was +he likely to meet with all along the Latin Way? When the horsemen +had refreshed themselves, Marcian summoned the leader; their +services, he said, would no longer be necessary; he bade them depart +as early as might be on the morrow, and bear with all speed to their +lord the bishop an important letter which he forthwith wrote and +gave to the man, together with a generous guerdon. This business +despatched, he again wandered hither and thither, incapable of rest, +incapable of clear thought, fever in his heart and in his brain. + +As the sun sank, fear once more beset him. This house lay open on +all sides, its only protection being a couple of dogs, which prowled +at large. He thought with dread of the possibility of a brigand +attack. But when night had fallen, when all lights except his own +were extinguished, when no sound struck against the deep monotone of +the cataracts, this emotion yielded before another, which no less +harassed his mind. In the hall, in the corridors, in the +garden-court, he paced ceaselessly, at times walking in utter +darkness, for not yet had the moon risen. When at length its rays +fell upon the pillars of the upper gallery where Veranilda slept, he +stood looking towards her chamber, and turned away at length with a +wild gesture, like that of a demoniac in torment. + +The man was torn between spiritual fervour and passions of the +flesh. With his aspiration to saintliness blended that love of his +friend which was the purest affection he had known in all the years +of manhood; yet this very love became, through evil thoughts, an +instrument against him, being sullied, poisoned by the basest spirit +of jealousy, until it seemed all but to have turned to hate. One +moment he felt himself capable of acting nobly, even as he had +resolved when at mass in the little mountain church; his bosom +glowed with the defiance of every risk; he would guard Veranilda +secretly until he could lay her hand in that of Basil. The next, he +saw only danger, impossibility, in such a purpose, and was anxious +to deliver the beautiful maiden to the king of her own race as soon +as might be--lest worse befell. Thus did he strive with himself, +thus was he racked and rent under the glowing moon. + +At dawn he slept. When he rose the horsemen had long since set forth +on their journey home. He inquired which road they had taken. But to +this no one had paid heed; he could only learn that they had crossed +the river by the westward bridge, and so perhaps had gone back by +way of Aletrium, instead of descending the valley to the Latin Way. +Even yet Marcian did not feel quite safe from his Greek pursuers. He +feared a meeting between them and the Praenestines. + +Having bathed (a luxury after waterless Rome), and eaten a morsel of +bread with a draught of his own wine, he called his housekeeper, and +bade her make known to the lady, his guest, that he begged +permission to wait upon her. With but a few minutes' delay Veranilda +descended to the room which lay behind the atrium. Marcian, +loitering among the ivied plane-trees without, was told of her +coming, and at once entered. + +She was alone, standing at the back of the room; her hands hanging +linked before her, the lower part of the arms white against the +folds of a russet-coloured tunic. And Marcian beheld her face. + +He took a few rapid steps toward her, checked himself, bowed +profoundly, and said in a somewhat abrupt voice: + +'Gracious lady, is it by your own wish that you are unattended? Or +have my women, by long disuse, so forgotten their duties--' + +Veranilda interrupted him. + +'I assure you it was my own wish, lord Marcian. We must speak of +things which are not for others' hearing.' + +In the same unnatural voice, as though he put constraint upon +himself for the performance of a disagreeable duty, he begged her to +be seated, and Veranilda, not without betraying a slight trouble of +surprise, took the chair to which he pointed. But he himself did not +sit down. In the middle of the room stood a great bronze +candelabrum, many-branched for the suspension of lamps, at its base +three figures, Pluto, Neptune, and Proserpine. It was the only work +of any value which the villa now contained, and Marcian associated +it with the memories of his earliest years. As a little child he had +often gazed at those three faces, awed by their noble gravity, and, +with a child's diffidence, he had never ventured to ask what beings +these were. He fixed his eyes upon them now, to avoid looking at +Veranilda. She, timidly glancing at him, said in her soft, low +voice, with the simplest sincerity: + +'I have not yet found words in which to thank you, lord Marcian.' + +'My thanks are due to you, dear lady, for gracing this poor house +with your presence.' + +His tone was more suavely courteous. For an instant he looked at +her, and his lips set themselves in something meant for a smile. + +'This is the end of our journey?' she asked. + +'For some days--if the place does not displease you.' + +'How could I be ill at ease in the house of Basil's friend, and with +the promise that Basil will soon come?' + +Marcian stared at the face of Proserpine, who seemed to regard him +with solemn thoughtfulness. + +'Had you any forewarning of your release from the monastery?' he +asked of a sudden. + +'None. None whatever.' + +'You thought you would remain there for long to come?' + +'I had not dared to think of that.' + +Marcian took a few paces, glanced at the sweet face, the beautiful +head with its long golden hair, and came back to his place by the +candelabrum, on which he rested a trembling hand. + +'Had they spoken of making you a nun?' + +A look of dread came upon her countenance, and she whispered, 'Once +or twice.' + +'You would never have consented?' + +'Only if I had known that release was hopeless, or that Basil--' + +Her voice failed. + +'That Basil--?' echoed Marcian's lips, in an undertone. + +'That he was dead.' + +'You never feared that he might have forgotten you?' + +Again his accents were so hard that Veranilda gazed at him in +troubled wonder. + +'You never feared that?' he added, with fugitive eyes. + +'Had I dreamt of it,' she replied, 'I think I should not live.' Then +in a voice of anxious humility, 'Could Basil forget me?' + +'Indeed, I should not think it easy,' murmured the other, his eyes +cast down. 'And what,' he continued abruptly, 'was said to you when +you left the convent? In what words did they take leave of you?' + +'With none at all. I was bidden prepare for a journey, and soon +after they led me to the gates. I knew nothing, nor did the woman +with me.' + +'Was the lady Aurelia in the same convent?' Marcian next inquired. + +'I never saw her after we had landed from the ship which carried us +from Surrentum?' + +'You do not know, of course, that Petronilla is dead?' + +He told her of that, and of other events such as would interest her, +but without uttering the name of Basil. Above all, he spoke of +Totila, lauding the victorious king who would soon complete his +triumph by the conquest of Rome. + +'I had all but forgotten,' were Veranilda's words, when she had +listened anxiously. 'I thought only of Basil.' + +He turned abruptly from her, seemed to reflect for a moment, and +said with formal politeness: + +'Permit me now to leave you, lady. This house is yours. I would it +offered you worthier accommodation. As soon as I have news, I will +again come before you.' + +Veranilda rose whilst he was speaking. Her eyes were fixed upon him, +wistfully, almost pleadingly, and before he had reached the exit she +advanced a step, with lips parted as if to beseech his delay. But he +walked too hurriedly, and was gone ere she durst utter a word. + +At the same hurried pace, gazing before him and seeing nothing, +Marcian left the villa, and walked until he came to the river side. +Here was a jutting rock known as the Lover's Leap; story told of a +noble maiden, frenzied by unhappy love, who had cast herself into +the roaring waterfall. Long he stood on the brink, till his eyes +dazzled from the sun-stricken foam. His mind was blasted with shame; +he could not hold his head erect. In sorry effort to recover +self-respect he reasoned inwardly thus: + +'Where Basil may be I know not. If he is still at Asculum many days +must pass before a summons from me could bring him hither. He may +already be on his way to join the king, as I bade him in my last +message. The uncertainty, the danger of this situation, can be met +only in one way. On leaving Rome I saw my duty plain before me. A +desire to pleasure my friend made me waver, but I was wrong--if +Basil is to have Veranilda for his bride he can only receive her +from the hands of Totila. Anything else would mean peril to the +friend I love, and disrespect, even treachery, to the king I honour. +And so it shall be; I will torment myself no more.' + +He hastened back into the villa, summoned Sagaris, and bade him be +ready in half an hour to set forth on a journey of a day or two. He +then wrote a brief letter to the king of the Goths. It was in the +Gothic tongue, such Gothic as a few Romans could command for +everyday use. Herein he told that Veranilda, intrusted to him by the +deacon Leander to be conducted to the king's camp, had arrived in +safety at his villa by Arpinum. The country being disturbed, he had +thought better to wait here with his charge until he could learn the +king's pleasure, which he begged might be made known to him as soon +as possible. + +'This,' he said, when Sagaris appeared before him equipped for +travel, 'you will deliver into the king's own hands. At Aquinum you +will be directed to his camp, which cannot be far beyond. Danger +there is none between here and there. Make your utmost speed.' + +Many were the confidential missions which Sagaris had discharged; +yet, looking now into his man's face, the master was troubled by a +sudden misgiving. The state of his own mind disposed him to see +peril everywhere. At another time he would not have noted so +curiously a sort of gleam in the Syrian's eye, a something on the +fellow's cunning, sensual lips, which might mean anything or +nothing. Did Sagaris divine who the veiled lady was? From the +bishop's man he could not have learned it, they themselves, as the +bishop had assured Marcian, being totally ignorant in the matter. If +he guessed the truth, as was likely enough after all the talk he had +heard concerning Veranilda, was it a danger? Had Sagaris any motive +for treachery? + +'Listen,' continued Marcian, in a tone such as he had never before +used with his servant, a tone rather of entreaty than of command. +'Upon the safe and swift delivery of that letter more depends than +you can imagine. You will not lack your reward. But not a word to +any save the king. Should any one else question you, you will say +that you bear only a verbal message, and that you come direct from +Rome.' + +'My lord shall be obeyed,' answered the slave, 'though I die under +torture.' + +'Of that,' said Marcian, with a forced laugh, 'you need have no +fear. But, hark you!' He hesitated, again searching the man's +countenance. 'You might chance to meet some friend of mine who would +inquire after me. No matter who it be--were it even the lord Basil--you +will answer in the same words, saying that I am still in Rome. You +understand me? Were it even lord Basil who asked?' + +'It shall be as my lord commands,' replied the slave, his face set +in unctuous solemnity. + +'Go, then. Lose not a moment.' + +Marcian watched him ride away in the blaze of the cloudless sun. The +man's head was sheltered with a broad-brimmed hat of the lightest +felt, and his horse's with a cluster of vine-leaves. He rode away at +a quick trot, the while dust rising in a cloud behind him. + +And Marcian lived through the day he knew not how. It was a day of +burning sunshine, of heat scarce tolerable even in places the most +sheltered. Clad only in a loose tunic, bare-armed, bare-footed, he +lay or sauntered wherever shade was dense, as far as possible from +the part of the villa consecrated to his guest. Hour after hour +crawled by, an eternity of distressful idleness. And, even while +wishing for the day's end, he dreaded the coming of the night. + +It came; the silent, lonely night, the warm, perfumed night, the +season of fierce temptations, of dreadful opportunity. Never had the +passionate soul of Marcian been so manifestly lured by the Evil One, +never had it fought so desperately in the strength of religious +hopes and fears. He knelt, he prayed, his voice breaking upon the +stillness with anguish of supplication. Between him and the +celestial vision rose that face which he had at length beheld, a +face only the more provocative of sensual rage because of its sweet +purity, its flawless truth. Then he flung himself upon the stones, +bruised his limbs, lay at length exhausted, as if lifeless. + +No longer could he strengthen himself by the thought of loyalty in +friendship; that he had renounced. Yet he strove to think of Basil, +and, in doing so, knew that he still loved him. For Basil he would +do anything, suffer anything, lose anything; but when he imaged +Basil with Veranilda, at once his love turned to spleen, a sullen +madness possessed him, he hated his friend to the death. + +By his own order, two watchmen stood below the stairs which led to +Veranilda's chamber. Nigh upon midnight he walked in that direction, +walked in barefooted stealth, listening for a movement, a voice. +Nearer and nearer he approached, till he saw at length the ray of a +lantern; but no step, no murmur, told of wakeful guard. Trembling as +though with cold, though sweat streamed over his body, he strode +forward; there, propped against the wall, sat the two slaves fast +asleep. Marcian glanced at the stairs; his face in the dim lantern +light was that of a devil. All of a sudden one of the men started, +and opened his eyes. Thereupon Marcian caught up a staff that lay +beside them, and began to belabour them both with savage blows. +Fiercely, frantically, he plied his weapon, until the delinquents, +who had fallen to their knees before him, roared for mercy. + +'Let me find you sleeping again,' he said in a low voice, 'and your +eyes shall be burnt out.' + +He stole away into the darkness, and the men whispered to each other +that he had gone mad. For Marcian was notably humane with his +slaves, never having been known even to inflict a whipping. Perhaps +they were even more astonished at this proof that their master +seriously guarded the privacy of his guest; last night they had +slept for long hours undisturbed, and, on waking, congratulated each +other with familiar jests on having done just what was expected of +them. + +The morn broke dark and stormy. Thunder-clouds purpled before the +rising sun, and ere mid-day there fell torrents of rain. Heedless of +the sky, Marcian rode forth this morning; rode aimlessly about the +hills, for the villa was no longer endurable to him. He talked +awhile with a labouring serf, who told him that the plague had +broken out in Arpinum, where, during the last week or two, many had +died. From his steward he had already heard the same news, but +without heeding it; it now alarmed him, and for some hours fear had +a wholesome effect upon his thoughts. In the coolness following upon +the storm, he enjoyed a long, tranquil sleep. And this day he did +not see Veranilda. + +A mile or two down the valley was a church, built by Marcian's +grandfather, on a spot where he had been saved from great peril; the +land attached to it supported two priests and certain acolytes, +together with a little colony of serfs. On his ride this morning +Marcian had passed within view of the church, and would have gone +thither but for his rain drenched clothing. Now, during the second +night of temptation, he resolved to visit the priests as soon as it +was day and to bring one of them back with him to the villa, to +remain as long as Veranilda should be there. Firm in this purpose he +rose with the rising sun, called for his horse, and rode to the +bridge. There, looking down at the white cataract, stood Veranilda +and her attendant. + +He alighted. With a timid smile the maiden advanced to meet him. + +'Abroad so early?' were his first words, a mere tongue-found phrase. + +'I was tempted by the fresh morning. It does not displease you, lord +Marcian?' + +'Nay, I am glad.' + +'It is so long,' continued the gentle voice, 'since I was free to +walk under the open sky.' + +Marcian forgot that his gaze was fixed upon her, forgot that he was +silent, forgot the purpose with which he had ridden forth. + +'I hoped I might see you to-day,' she added. 'You have yet no news +for me?' + +'None.' + +The blue eyes drooped sadly. + +'To-morrow, perhaps,' she murmured. Then, with an effort to seem +cheerful, as if ashamed of her troubled thought, 'I had listened so +long to a sound of falling water that I could not resist the desire +to see it. How beautiful it is!' + +Marcian felt surprise; he himself saw the cataract as an object of +beauty, but had seldom heard it so spoken of, and could least of all +have expected such words on the lips of a woman, dread seeming to +him the more natural impression. + +'That on the other side,' he said, pointing across the island, 'is +more beautiful still. And there is shade, whilst here the sun grows +too hot. But you must not walk so far. My horse has a very even +pace. If you would let me lift you to the saddle--' + +'Oh, gladly!' she answered, with a little laugh of pleasure. + +And it was done. For a moment he held her, for a moment felt the +warmth and softness of her flesh; then she sat sideways upon the +horse, looking down at Marcian with startled gaiety. He showed her +how to hold the reins, and the horse went gently forward. + +'It makes me a child again,' she exclaimed. 'I have never ridden +since I was a little girl, when my father--' + +Her voice died away; her look was averted, and Marcian, remembering +the shame that mingled with her memories, began to talk of other +things. + +By a path that circled the villa, they came to a little wood of +ilex, which shadowed the brink of the larger cataract. Marcian had +bidden Veranilda's woman follow them, but as they entered the wood, +his companion looking eagerly before her, he turned and made a +gesture of dismissal, which the servant at once obeyed. In the +shadiest spot which offered a view of the plunging river, he asked +Veranilda if she would alight. + +'Willingly, I would spend an hour here,' she replied. 'The leafage +and the water make such a delightful freshness.' + +'I have anticipated your thought,' said Marcian. 'The woman is gone +to bid them bring seats.' + +Veranilda glanced back in surprise and saw that they were alone. She +thanked him winsomely, and then, simply as before, accepted his +help. Again Marcian held her an instant, her slim, light body +trembling when he set her down, as if from a burden which strained +his utmost force. She stepped forward to gaze at the fall. He, with +an exclamation of alarm, caught her hand and held it. + +'You are too rash,' he said in a thick voice. 'The depth, the roar +of the waters, will daze you.' + +Against his burning palm, her hand was cool as a lily leaf. He did +not release it, though he knew that _his_ peril from that maidenly +touch was greater far than hers from the gulf before them. +Veranilda, accepting his protection with the thoughtlessness of a +child, leaned forward, uttering her wonder and her admiration. He, +the while, watched her lips, fed his eyes upon her cheek, her neck, +the golden ripples of her hair. At length she gently offered to draw +her hand away. A frenzy urged him to resist, but madness yielded to +cunning, and he released her. + +'Of course Basil has been here,' she was saying. + +'Never.' + +'Never? Oh, the joy of showing him this when he comes! Lord Marcian, +you do not think it will be long?' + +Her eyes seemed as though they would read in the depth of his; again +the look of troubled wonder rose to her countenance. + +'It will not be more than a few days?' she added, in a timid +undertone, scarce audible upon the water's deeper note. + +'I fear it may be longer,' replied Marcian. + +He heard his own accents as those of another man. He, his very self, +willed the utterance of certain words, kind, hopeful, honest; but +something else within him commanded his tongue, and, ere he knew it, +he had added: + +'You have never thought that Basil might forget you?' + +Veranilda quivered as though she had been struck. + +'Why do you again ask me that question?' she said gently, but no +longer timidly. 'Why do you look at me so? Surely,' her voice sank, +'you could not have let me feel so happy if Basil were dead?' + +'He lives.' + +'Then why do you look so strangely at me? Ah, he is a prisoner?' + +'Not so. No man's liberty is less in danger.' + +She clasped her hands before her. 'You make me suffer. I was so +light of heart, and now--your eyes, your silence. Oh, speak, lord +Marcian!' + +'I have hidden the truth so long because I knew not how to utter it. +Veranilda, Basil is false to you.' + +Her hands fell; her eyes grew wider in wonder. She seemed not to +understand what she had heard, and to be troubled by incomprehension +rather than by a shock of pain. + +'False to me?' she murmured. 'How false?' + +'He loves another woman, and for her sake has turned to the Greeks.' + +Still Veranilda gazed wonderingly. + +'Things have come to pass of which you know nothing,' pursued +Marcian, forcing his voice to a subdued evenness, a sad gravity. +'Listen whilst I tell you all. Had you remained but a few days +longer at Cumae, you would have been seized by the Greeks and sent +to Constantinople; for the Emperor Justinian himself had given this +command. You came to Surrentum; you plighted troth with Basil; he +would have wedded you, and--not only for safety's sake, but +because he wished well to the Goths--would have sought the +friendship of Totila. But you were carried away; vainly we searched +for you; we feared you had been delivered to the Greeks. In Rome, +Basil was tempted by a woman, whom he had loved before ever he saw +you, a woman beautiful, but evil hearted, her name Heliodora. She +won him back to her; she made him faithless to you and to the cause +of the Goths. Little by little, I learnt how far he had gone in +treachery. He had discovered where you were, but no longer desired +to release you that you might become his wife. To satisfy the +jealousy of Heliodora, and at the same time to please the Greek +commander in Rome, he plotted to convey you to Constantinople. I +having discovered this plot, found a way to defeat it. You escaped +but narrowly. When I carried you away from Praeneste, pursuers were +close behind us, therefore it was that we travelled through the +night. Here you are in safety, for King Totila is close at hand, and +will guard you against your enemies.' + +Veranilda pressed her hands upon her forehead, and stood mute. As +his eyes shifted furtively about her, Marcian caught sight of +something black and undulant stirring among stones near her feet; at +once he grasped her by the arm, and drew her towards him. + +'A viper!' he exclaimed, pointing. + +'What of that?' was her reply, with a careless glance. 'I would not +stir a step to escape its fangs.' + +And, burying her face in her hands, she wept. + +These tears, this attitude of bewildered grief, were Marcian's +encouragement. He had dreaded the innocence of her eyes lest it +should turn to distrust and rejection. Had she refused to believe +him, he knew not how he would have persisted in his villainy; for, +even in concluding his story, it seemed to him that he must betray +himself; so perfidious sounded to him the voice which he could +hardly believe his own, and so slinking-knavish did he feel the +posture of his body, the movements of his limbs. The distress which +should have smitten him to the heart restored his baser courage. +Again he spoke with the sad gravity of a sympathetic friend. + +'Dearest lady, I cannot bid you be comforted, but I entreat you to +pardon me, the hapless revealer of your misfortune. Say only that +you forgive me.' + +'What is there to forgive?' she answered, checking her all but +silent sobs. 'You have told what it behoved you to tell. And it may +be'--her look changed of a sudden--'that I am too hasty in +embracing sorrow. How can I believe that Basil has done this? Are +you not misled by some false suspicion? Has not some enemy slandered +him to you? What can you say to make me credit a thing so evil?' + +'Alas! It were but too easy for me to lengthen a tale which all but +choked me in the telling; I could name others who know, but to you +they would be only names. That of Heliodora, had you lived in Rome, +were more than enough.' + +'You say he loved her before?' + +'He did, dear lady, and when her husband was yet living. Now that he +is dead--' + +'Have you yet told me all?' asked Veranilda, gazing fixedly at him. +'Has he married her?' + +'Not yet--I think.' + +Again she bowed her head. For a moment her tears fell silently, then +she looked up once more fighting against her anguish. + +'It cannot be true that he would have given me to the Greeks; that +he may have forgotten me, that he may have turned to another love, I +can perhaps believe--for what am I that Basil should love me? But +to scheme my injury, to deliver me to our enemies--Oh, you are +deceived, you are deceived!' + +Marcian was silent, with eyes cast down. In the branches, cicadas +trilled their monotone. The viper, which had been startled away, +again showed its lithe blackness among the stones behind Veranilda, +and Marcian, catching sight of it, again touched her arm. + +'The snake! Come away from this place.' + +Veranilda drew her arm back as if his touch stung her. + +'I will go,' she said. 'I must be alone--my thoughts are in such +confusion I know not what I say.' + +'Say but one word,' he pleaded. 'Having rescued you, I knew not how +to provide for your security save under ward of the king. Totila is +noble and merciful; all Italy will soon be his, and the Gothic rule +be re-established. Assure me that I have done well and wisely.' + +'I hope you have,' answered Veranilda, regarding him for an instant. +'But I know nothing; I must bear what befalls. Let me go to my +chamber, lord Marcian, and sit alone and think.' + +He led her back into the villa, and they parted without another +word. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +THE BETRAYER BETRAYED + + + + +Sagaris, making his best speed, soon arrived at Aquinum. He and his +horse were bathed in sweat; the shelter of an inn, where he had +dinner, tempted him to linger more than he need have done, and the +fierce sun was already declining when he rode forth along the Latin +Way. As yet he had seen no Goths. Every one talked of Totila, but he +had a difficulty in ascertaining where at this moment the king was +to be found; some declared he was as near as Venafrum, others that +he lay much further down the valley of the Vulturnus. Arrived at +Venafrum, the messenger learnt that he could not have less than +another whole day's journey before him, so here be harboured for the +night. + +His wily and unscrupulous mind had all day long been busy with +speculations as to the errand on which he was sent. Knowing that his +master wrote to Goths in the Gothic tongue, he was spared temptation +to break open the letter he carried; otherwise he would assuredly +have done so, for the hatred which Sagaris naturally felt for any +one in authority over him was now envenomed by jealousy, and for the +last month or two he had only waited an opportunity of injuring +Marcian and of advancing, by the same stroke, his own fortunes. + +Having started from Rome in ignorance of his master's purpose, the +events of the night at Praeneste at once suggested to him the name +of the person who was being so cautiously and hurriedly conveyed +under Marcian's guard, and by the end of the journey he had no doubt +left. Here, at last, was the Gothic maiden who had been sought so +persistently by Marcian, by Basil, by Bessas, by Heliodora, and +doubtless by many others, since her disappearance from Surrentum. +Whither was she now being conducted? Sagaris did not know that among +her seekers was King Totila himself; on the other hand, he had much +reason for suspecting that Marcian pursued Veranilda with a lover's +passion, and when the journey ended at the island villa, when the +convoy of horsemen was dismissed, when he himself was sent off to a +distance, he saw his suspicion confirmed. By some supreme subtlety, +Marcian had got the beautiful maiden into his power, and doubtless +the letter he was sending to Totila contained some device for the +concealing of what had happened. + +Now to the Syrian this would have been a matter of indifference, but +for his secret communications with Heliodora and all that had +resulted therefrom. Heliodora's talk was of three persons--of +Marcian, of Basil, of Veranilda--and Sagaris, reasoning from all +the gossip he had heard, and from all he certainly knew, concluded +that the Greek lady had once loved Basil, but did so no more, that +her love had turned to Marcian, and that she either knew or +suspected Marcian to be a rival of Basil for the love of Veranilda. +Thus had matters stood (he persuaded himself) until his own entrance +on the scene. That a woman might look with ardent eyes on more than +one man in the same moment, seemed to Sagaris the simplest of facts; +he consequently found it easy to believe that, even whilst loving +Marcian, Heliodora should have conceived a tenderness for Marcian's +slave. That Heliodora's professions might be mere trickery, he never +imagined; his vanity forbade it; at each successive meeting he +seemed to himself to have strengthened his hold upon the luxurious +woman; each time he came away with a fiercer hatred of Marcian, and +a deeper resolve to ruin him. True, as yet, he had fed only on +promises, but being the man he was, he could attribute to Heliodora +a selfish interest in combination with a lover's desire; what more +intelligible than that she should use him to the utmost against +those she hated, postponing his reward until he had rendered her +substantial service? Thus did Sagaris feel and reason, whilst riding +along the Latin Way. His difficulty was to decide how he should act +at this juncture; how, with greatest profit to himself, he could do +most scathe to Marcian. + +Was his master serving the Greeks or the Goths? Uncertainty on this +point had long troubled his meditations, and was now a cause of +grave embarrassment. Eager to betray, he could not be sure to which +side betrayal should direct itself. On the whole he himself favoured +Totila, feeling sure that the Goth would bring the war to a +triumphant end; and on this account he was disposed to do his errand +faithfully. If the king interrogated him, he could draw conclusions +from the questions asked, and could answer as seemed best for his +own ends. So he decided to push on, and, despite the storm which +broke on this second morning, he rode out from Venafrum. + +A few hours' travel, and, drenched with the furious rain, he came to +Aesernia. This town stood in a strong position on an isolated hill; +its massive walls yet compassed it about. On arriving at the gate he +found himself unexpectedly challenged by armed men, who, though +Italians, he at once suspected to be in the Gothic service. A +moment's hesitancy in replying to the questions, 'Whence?' and +'Whither?' sufficed to put him under arrest. He was led to the +captain, in whom with relief he recognised Venantius of Nuceria. His +doubts being at an end, for he knew that this Roman noble had long +since openly joined Totila, he begged that Venantius would hear him +in private, and this being granted, began by telling in whose +service he was. + +'I thought I somehow remembered your face,' said the captain, whose +look seemed to add that the face did not particularly please him. +'And where is the lord Marcian?' + +'In Rome, Illustrious.' + +'You have come straight from Rome, then?' + +The answer was affirmative and boldly given. + +'And whither are you bound? On what business?' + +Sagaris, still obeying his master's injunctions, declared that he +carried a verbal message to the King of the Goths, and for him +alone. Having reflected for a moment, Venantius called the soldier +who stood without the door. + +'See to the wants of this messenger. Treat him hospitably, and bring +him hither again in an hour's time.' + +The captain then walked to a house close by, where, admitted to the +atrium, he was at once met by an elderly lady, who bent respectfully +before him. + +'Has the traveller yet risen?' he began by asking. + +'Not yet, my lord. A little while ago his servant told me that he +was still sleeping.' + +'Good; he will recover from his fatigue. But pray inquire whether he +is now awake, for I would speak with him as soon as may be.' + +The lady was absent for a minute or two, then brought word that the +traveller had just awoke. + +'I will go to his bedside,' said Venantius. + +He was led to an upper chamber, a small, bare, tiled-floored room, +lighted by a foot-square window, on which the shutter was half +closed against the rays of the sun. Some aromatic odour hung in the +air. + +'Do you feel able to talk?' asked the captain as he entered. + +'I am quite restored,' was the reply of a man sitting up in the bed. +'The fever has passed.' + +'So much for the wisdom of physicians!' exclaimed Venantius with a +laugh. 'That owl-eyed Aesernian who swears by Aesculapius that he +has studied at Constantinople, Antioch, and I know not where else, +whispered to me that you would never behold to-day's sunset. I +whispered to _him_ that he was an ass, and that if he uttered the +word _plague_ to any one in the house, I would cut his ears off. +Nevertheless, I had you put into this out-of-the-way room, that you +might not be disturbed by noises. Who'--he sniffed--'has been +burning perfumes?' + +'My good fellow Felix. Though travel-worn and wounded, he has sat by +me all the time, and would only go to bed when I woke up with a cool +forehead.' + +'A good fellow, indeed. His face spells honesty. I can't say so much +for that of a man I have just been talking with--a messenger of +your friend Marcian.' + +The listener started as though he would leap out of bed. A rush of +colour to his cheeks banished the heavy, wan aspect which had partly +disguised him, and restored the comely visage of Basil. A messenger +from Marcian? he exclaimed. With news for _him_? And, as if +expecting a letter, he stretched forth his hand eagerly. + +'He has nothing, that I know of, for you,' said the captain. 'If he +tells the truth, he is charged with a message for the king.' + +'Is it Sagaris--a Syrian slave?' + +'A Syrian, by his looks; one I remember to have seen with Marcian a +year ago.' + +'Sagaris, to be sure. Then you can trust him. He has the eye of his +race, and is a prating braggart, but Marcian has found him honest. I +must see him, Venantius. Will you send him to me, dear lord?' + +Venantius had seated himself on a chair that was beside the bed; he +wore a dubious look, and, before speaking again, glanced keenly at +Basil. + +'Did you not expect,' he asked, 'to meet Marcian in the king's +camp?' + +'My last news from him bade me go thither as fast as I could, as he +himself was leaving Rome to join the king. I should have gone a +little out of my road to visit his villa near Arpinum, on the chance +of hearing news of him there; but our encounter with the marauders +drove me too far away.' + +'So much,' said Venantius, 'I gathered from your talk last night, +when you were not quite so clear-headed as you are now. What I want +to discover is whether this Syrian has lied to me. He declares that +he left Marcian in Rome. Now it happens that some of our men, who +were sent for a certain purpose, yesterday, along the Latin Way, +came across half a dozen horsemen, riding westward, and as their +duty was, learnt all they could from them. These six fellows +declared themselves servants of the bishop of Praeneste, and said +that they had just been convoying a Roman noble and a lady to a +villa not far from Arpinum. And the noble's name--they had it, +said they, from his own servants at the villa, where they had passed +a night--was Marcian.' + +Basil stared; he had gone pale again and haggard. + +'What lady was with him?' he asked, under his breath. + +'That I cannot tell you. The bishop's men knew nothing about her, +and had not seen her face. But'--Venantius smiled--'they left +her safely housed with our friend Marcian. How comes this Syrian to +say that his master is at Rome? Does he lie? Or did the horsemen +lie? Or are there, perchance, two Marcians?' + +'I must speak with him,' said Basil. 'Leave me to find out the truth +for you. Send Sagaris here, Venantius, I entreat you.' + +The captain appeared to hesitate, but, on Basil's beseeching him not +to delay, he agreed and left the room. As soon as he was alone, +Basil sprang up and dressed. He was aching from head to foot, and a +parched mouth, a hot hand, told of fever in his blood. On receipt of +Marcian's last letter, he had not delayed a day before setting +forth; all was in readiness for such a summons, and thirty +well-mounted, well-armed men, chosen from the slaves and freedmen on +his Asculan estate in Picenum, rode after him to join the King of +the Goths. The journey was rapidly performed; already they were +descending the lower slopes of the westward Apennine, when they had +the ill-luck to fall in with that same band of marauders which +Marcian so narrowly escaped. Basil's first thought was that the +mounted troop coming towards him might hem the Gothic service, but +this hope was soon dispelled. Advancing with fierce threats, the +robbers commanded him and his men to alight, their chief desire +being no doubt to seize the horses and arms. Though outnumbered, +Basil shouted defiance; a conflict began, and so stout was the +resistance they met that, after several had fallen on either side, +the brigands drew off. Not, however, in final retreat; galloping on +in hope of succour, Basil found himself pursued, again lost two or +three men, and only with the utmost difficulty got clear away. + +It was the young Roman's first experience of combat. For this he had +been preparing himself during the past months, exercising his body +and striving to invigorate his mind, little apt for warlike +enterprise. When the trial came, his courage did not fail, but the +violent emotions of that day left him so exhausted, so shaken in +nerve, that he could scarce continue his journey. He had come out of +the fight unwounded, but at nightfall fever fell upon him, and he +found no rest. The loss of some half dozen men grieved him to the +heart; had the brave fellows fallen in battle with the Greeks, he +would have thought less of it; to see them slain, or captured, by +mere brigands was more than he could bear. When at length he reached +Aesernia, and there unexpectedly met with Venantius, he fell from +his horse like a dying man. A draught given by the physician sent +him to sleep, and from the second hour after sunset until nearly +noon of to-day he had lain unconscious. + +What he now learnt from Venantius swept into oblivion all that he +had undergone. If it were true that Marcian had travelled in this +direction with a lady under his guard, Basil could not doubt for a +moment who that lady was. The jest of Venantius did not touch him, +for Venantius spoke, it was evident, without a thought of Veranilda, +perhaps had forgotten her existence; not the faintest tremor of +uneasiness stirred in Basil's mind when he imagined Veranilda at his +friend's house; Marcian had discovered her, had rescued her, had +brought her thither to rest in safety till her lover could join +them--brave Marcian, truest of friends! For this had he sent the +summons southward, perhaps not daring to speak more plainly in a +letter, perhaps not being yet quite sure of success. This had he so +often promised--O gallant Marcian! + +Quivering with eagerness, he stood at the door of his chamber. +Footsteps sounded; there appeared a slave of the house, and behind +him that dark, handsome visage which he was expecting. + +'Sagaris! My good Sagaris!' he cried joyously. + +The Syrian knelt before him and kissed his hand, but uttered no +word. At sight of Basil, for which he was not at all prepared, +Sagaris felt a happy shock; he now saw his way before him, and had +no more anxiety. But, on rising from the obeisance, he let his head +drop; his eyes wandered: one would have said that he shrank from +observation. + +'Speak low,' said Basil, standing by the open door so as to guard +against eavesdropping. 'What message have you for me?' + +Sagaris replied that he had none. + +'None? Your lord charged you with nothing for me in case you should +meet me on your way?' + +Again Sagaris murmured a negative, and this time with so manifest an +air of confusion that Basil stared at him, suspicious, angry. + +'What do you mean? What are you keeping from me?' + +The man appeared to stammer incoherencies. + +'Listen,' said Basil in a low, friendly voice. 'You know very well +that the lord Marcian has no secrets from me. With me you can speak +in entire confidence. What has come to you, man? Tell me--did your +lord leave Rome before or after you?' + +'At the same time.' + +No sooner had this reply fallen from his lips than Sagaris seemed +stricken with alarm. He entreated pardon, declared he knew not what +he was saying, that he was dazed by the weariness of travel. + +'I should have said--neither before nor after. My lord remains in +the city. I was to return with all speed.' + +'He remains in the city?' + +Basil reflected. It was possible that Marcian had either purposely +concealed his journey from this slave, and had suddenly found +himself able to set forth just after Sagaris had started. + +'You bear a letter for the king?' he asked. + +'A letter, Illustrious,' answered the slave, speaking very low. + +'Ah, a letter?' + +Sagaris went on to say that he had kept this a secret from +Venantius, his master having bidden him speak of it to no one and +deliver it into the king's own hand. + +'It is in the Gothic tongue,' he added, his head bent, his look more +furtive than ever; 'and so urgent that I have scarce rested an hour +since leaving the villa.' + +A terrible light flashed into Basil's eyes. Then he sprang at the +speaker, caught him by the throat, forced him to his knees. + +'Scoundrel, you dare to lie to me! So you started from the villa and +not from Rome?' + +Sagaris cried out for mercy, grovelled on the floor. He would tell +everything; but he implored Basil to keep the secret, for, did his +master learn what had happened, his punishment would be terrible. + +'Fool!' cried Basil fiercely. 'How come you to have forgotten all at +once that I am your lord's chosen friend, and that everything +concerning him is safe with me. In very deed, I think you have +ridden too hard in the sun; your brains must have frizzled. +Blockhead! If in haste, the lord Marcian did not speak of me, he +took it for granted that, should you meet me--' + +Something so like a malicious smile flitted over the slave's +countenance that in extremity of wrath he became mute. + +'Your Nobility is deceived,' said Sagaris, in the same moment. 'My +lord expressly forbade me to tell you the truth, should I see you on +my journey.' + +Basil stared at him. + +'I swear by the holy Cross,' exclaimed the other, 'that this is +true. And if I did not dread your anger, I could tell you the +reason. I dare not. By all the saints I dare not!' + +A strange quiet fell upon Basil. It seemed as if he would ask no +more questions; he half turned away, and stood musing. Indeed, it +was as though he had already heard all the slave had to tell, and so +overcome was he by the revelation that speech, even connected +thought, was at first impossible. As he recovered from the +stupefying blow, the blood began to boil in his veins. He felt as +when, in the fight of two days ago, he saw the first of his men +pierced by a javelin. Turning again to Sagaris, he plied him with +brief and rapid questions, till he had learnt every detail of +Marcian's journey from Rome to the villa. The Syrian spoke of the +veiled lady without hesitation as Veranilda, and pretended to have +known for some time that she was in a convent at Praeneste; but, +when interrogated as to her life at the villa, he affected an +affectation of doubt, murmuring that he had beheld nothing with his +own eyes, that perhaps the female slaves gossiped idly. + +'What do they say?' asked Basil with unnatural self-control. + +'They speak of her happy mien and gay talk, of her walking with my +lord in private. But I know nothing.' + +Basil kept his eyes down for a long minute, then moved like one who +has taken a resolve. + +'Show me the letter you bear,' he commanded. + +Sagaris produced it, and having looked at the seal, Basil silently +handed it back again. + +'Thrice noble,' pleaded the slave, 'you will not deliver me to my +lord's wrath?' + +'Have no fear; unless in anything you have lied to me. Follow.' + +They descended the stairs, and Basil had himself conducted to the +house where Venantius sate at dinner. He spoke with the captain in +private. + +'This slave has a letter, not merely a message, for the king. He +says it is urgent, and so it may be; but, from what I have learnt I +doubt whether he is wholly to be trusted. Can you send some one with +him?' + +'Nothing easier.' + +'I,' continued Basil, 'ride straightway for Arpinum. Ask me no +questions, Venantius. When I return, if I do return, you shall know +what sent me there. I may be back speedily.' + +He took food, and in an hour's time was ready to start. Of his +followers, he chose ten to accompany him. The rest remained at +Aesernia. Felix, worn out by watching and with a slight wound in the +side which began to be troublesome, he was reluctantly obliged to +leave. Having inquired as to the road over the mountains by which he +might reach Arpinum more quickly than by the Latin Way, he rode +forth from the town, and was soon spurring at headlong speed in a +cloud of dust. + +His thoughts far outstripped him; he raged at the prospect of long +hours to elapse ere he could reach Marcian's villa. With good luck +he might arrive before nightfall. If disappointed in that, a whole +night must pass, an eternity of torment, before he came face to face +with him he had called his dearest friend, now his abhorred enemy. + +What if he did not find him at the villa? Marcian had perhaps no +intention of remaining there. Perhaps he had already carried off his +victim to some other place. + +Seeing their lord post so furiously, the men looked in wonder at +each other. Some of them were soon left far behind, and Basil, +though merciless in his frenzy, saw at length that his horse was +seriously distressed; he slackened pace, allowed his followers to +rejoin him, and rode, perforce, at what seemed to him a mere crawl. +The sun was a flaming furnace; the earth seemed to be overspread +with white fire-ash, which dazed the eyes and choked. But Basil felt +only the fire in his heart and brain. Forgetful of all about him, he +had not ridden more than a few miles, when he missed the road; his +men, ignorant of the country, followed him without hesitation, and +so it happened that, on stopping at one of the few farms on their +way, to ask how far it still was to Arpinum, he learnt that he must +ride back for nearly a couple of hours to regain the track he should +have taken. He broke into frantic rage, cursed the countrymen who +directed him, and as he spurred his beast, cursed it too because of +its stumbling at a stone. + +There was now no hope of finishing the journey to-day. His head on +his breast, Basil rode more and more slowly. The sun declined, and +ere long it would be necessary to seek harbourage. But here among +the hills no place of human habitation came in view. Luckily for +themselves some of the horsemen had brought provender. Their lord +had given thought to no such thing. The sun set; the hills cast a +thickening shadow, even Basil began to gaze uneasily ahead. At +length there appeared a building, looking in the dusky distance like +a solitary country house. It proved to be the ruin of a temple. + +'Here we must stop,' said Basil. 'My horse can go no further. +Indeed, the darkness would stay us in any case. We must shelter in +these walls.' + +The men peered at each other, and a whisper went among them. For +their part, said one and all, they would rest under the open sky. +Basil understood. + +'What! you are afraid? Fools, do as you will. These walls shall +shelter me though all the devils in hell were my bedfellows.' + +What had come to him? asked his followers. Never had Basil been +known to speak thus. Spite of their horror of a forsaken temple, two +or three entered, and respectfully made offer of such food as they +had with them. Basil accepted a piece of bread, bade them see to his +horse, and crept into a corner of the building. He desired to be +alone and to think; for it seemed to him that he had not yet been +able to reflect upon the story told by Sagaris. What was it that +lurked there at the back of his mind? A memory, a suggestion of some +sort, which would have helped him to understand could he but grasp +it. As he munched his bread he tried desperately to think, to +remember; but all within him was a passionate misery, capable only +of groans and curses. An intolerable weariness possessed his limbs. +After sitting for a while with his back against the wall, he could +not longer hold himself in this position, but sank down and lay at +full length; and even so he ached, ached, from head to foot. + +Perhaps an hour had passed, and it was now quite dark within the +temple, when two of the men appeared with blazing torches, for they, +by means of flint and iron, had lit a fire in a hollow hard by, and +meant to keep it up through the night as a protection against +wolves. They brought Basil a draught of water in a leather bottle, +from a little stream they had found; and he drank gratefully, but +without a word. The torchlight showed bare walls and a shattered +roof. Having searched all round and discovered neither reptile nor +beast, the men made a bed of leaves and bracken, with a folded cloak +for a pillow, and invited their master to lie upon it. Basil did so, +turned his face away, and bade them leave him alone. + +What was that memory at the back of his mind? In the effort to draw +it forth he ground his teeth together, dug his nails into his hands. +At moments he forgot why he was wretched, and, starting up, strained +his eyes into the darkness, until he saw the face of Sagaris and +heard him speaking. + +For a while he slept; but dreadful dreams soon awoke him, and, +remembering where he was, he shook with horror. Low sounds fell upon +his ear, movements, he thought, in the black night. He would have +shouted to his men, but shame kept him mute. He crossed himself and +prayed to the Virgin; then, raising his eyes, he saw through the +broken roof a space of sky in which a star shone brilliantly. It +brought him comfort; but the next moment he remembered Sagaris, and +mental anguish blended with his fears of the invisible. + +Again sleep overcame him. He dreamt that an evil spirit, with a face +he knew but could not name, was pursuing him over trackless +mountains. He fled like the wind; but the spirit was close behind +him, and wherever he turned his head, he saw the familiar face +grinning a devilish mockery. A precipice lay before him. He leapt +wildly, and knew at once that he had leapt into fire, into hell. But +the red gleam was that of a torch, and before him, as he opened his +eyes, stood one of his faithful attendants who had come to see if +all was well with him. He asked for water, and the man fetched him a +draught. It was yet long till dawn. + +Now he could not lie still, for fever burned him. Though awake, he +saw visions, and once sent forth what seemed to him a yell of +terror; but in truth it was only a moan, and no one heard. He +relived through the fight with the marauders; sickened with dread at +the gleam of weapons; flamed into fury, and shouted with savage +exultation as he felt his sword cut the neck of an enemy. He was +trying to think of Veranilda, but all through the night her image +eluded him, and her name left him cold. He was capable only of +hatred. At daybreak he slept heavily; the men, approaching him and +looking at his haggard face, thought better to let him rest, and +only after sunrise did he awake. He was angry that they had not +aroused him sooner, got speedily to horse, and rode off almost at +the same speed as yesterday. Now, at all events, he drew near to his +goal; for a ride of an hour or two he needed not to spare his beast; +sternly he called to his men to follow him close. + +And all at once, as though his brain were restored by the freshness +of the morning, he grasped the thought which had eluded him. +Marcian's treachery was no new thing: twice he had been warned +against his seeming friend, by Petronilla and by Bessas, and in his +folly he had scorned the accusation which time had now so bitterly +justified. Forgotten, utterly forgotten, until this moment; yet how +blinded he must have been by his faith in Marcian's loyalty not to +have reflected upon many circumstances prompting suspicion. Marcian +had perhaps been false to him from the very day of Veranilda's +disappearance, and how far did his perfidy extend? Had he merely +known where she was concealed, or had he seen her, spoken with her, +wooed her all along? He had won her; so much was plain; and he could +scarce have done so during the brief journey to his villa. O +villainous Marcian! O fickle, wanton Veranilda! + +So distinct before his fiery imagination shone the image of those +two laughing together, walking alone (as Sagaris had reported), that +all reasoning, such as a calmer man might have entertained, was +utterly forbidden. Not a doubt crossed his mind. And in his heart +was no desire but of vengeance. + +At length he drew near to Arpinum. Avoiding the town, he questioned +a peasant at work in the fields, and learnt his way to the island. +Just as he came within view of the eastward waterfall, a girl was +crossing the bridge, away from the villa. Basil drew rein, bidding +his men do likewise, and let the girl, who had a bundle on her head, +draw near. At sight of the horsemen, of whom she was not aware till +close by them, the maid uttered a cry of alarm, and would have run +back but Basil intercepted her, jumped from his horse, and bade her +have no fear, as he only wished to ask a harmless question. Easily +he learnt that Marcian was at the villa, that he had arrived a few +days ago, and that with him had come a lady. + +'What is that lady's name?' he inquired. + +The girl did not know. Only one or two of the slaves, she said, had +seen her; she was said to be beautiful, with long yellow hair. + +'She never goes out?' asked Basil. + +The reply was that, only this morning, she had walked in the wood-- +the wood just across the bridge--with Marcian. + +Basil sprang on to his horse, beckoned his troop, and rode forward. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +DOOM + + + + +When Marcian parted from Veranilda in the peristyle, and watched her +as she ascended to her chamber, he knew that sombre exultation which +follows upon triumph in evil. Hesitancies were now at end; no longer +could he be distracted between two desires. In his eye, as it +pursued the beauty for which he had damned himself, glowed the fire +of an unholy joy. Not without inner detriment had Marcian accustomed +himself for years to wear a double face; though his purpose had been +pure, the habit of assiduous perfidy, of elaborate falsehood, could +not leave his soul untainted. A traitor now for his own ends, he +found himself moving in no unfamiliar element, and, the irrevocable +words once uttered, he thrilled with defiance of rebuke. All the +persistency of the man centred itself upon the achievement of this +crime, to him a crime no longer from the instant that he had +irreversibly willed it. + +On fire to his finger-tips, he could yet reason with the coldest +clarity of thought. Having betrayed his friend thus far, he must +needs betray him to the extremity of traitorhood; must stand face to +face with him in the presence of the noble Totila, and accuse him +even as he had done to Veranilda. Only thus, as things had come +about, could he assure himself against the fear that Totila, in +generosity, or policy, or both, might give the Amal-descended maid +to Basil. To defeat Basil's love was his prime end, jealousy being +more instant with him than fleshly impulse. Yet so strong had this +second motive now become, that he all but regretted his message to +the king: to hold Veranilda in his power, to gratify his passion +sooner or later, by this means or by that, he would perhaps have +risked all the danger to which such audacity exposed him. But +Marcian was not lust-bitten quite to madness. For the present, +enough to ruin the hopes of Basil. This done, the field for his own +attempt lay open. By skilful use of his advantages, he might bring +it to pass that Totila would grant him a supreme reward--the hand +of Veranilda. + +Unless, indeed, the young king, young and warm-blooded however noble +of mind, should himself look upon Veranilda with a lover's eyes. It +was not the first time that Marcian had thought of this. It made him +wince. But he reminded himself that herein lay another safeguard +against the happiness of Basil, and so was able to disregard the +fear. + +He would let his victim repose during the heat of the day, and then, +towards evening, would summon her to another interview. Not much +longer could he hope to be with her in privacy; to-morrow, or the +next day at latest, emissaries of the Gothic king would come in +response to his letter. But this evening he should speak with her, +gaze upon her, for a long, long hour. She was gentle, meek, pious; +in everything the exquisite antithesis of such a woman as Heliodora. +Out of very humility she allowed herself to believe that Basil had +ceased to love her. How persuade her, against the pure loyalty of +her heart, that he had even plotted her surrender to an unknown +fate? What proof of that could he devise? Did he succeed in +overcoming her doubts, would he not have gone far towards winning +her gratitude? + +She would shed tears again; it gave him a nameless pleasure to see +Veranilda weep. + +Thinking thus, he strayed aimlessly and unconsciously in courts and +corridors. Night would come again, and could he trust himself +through the long, still night after long speech with Veranilda? A +blacker thought than any he had yet nurtured began to stir in his +mind, raising its head like the viper of an hour ago. Were she but +his--his irredeemably? He tried to see beyond that, but his vision +blurred. + +Her nature was gentle, timid; the kind of nature, he thought, which +subdues itself to the irreparable. So soft, so sweet, so utterly +woman, might she not, thinking herself abandoned by Basil, yield +heart and soul to a man whom she saw helpless to resist a passionate +love of her? Or, if this hope deceived him, was there no artifice +with which to cover his ill-doing, no piece of guile subtle enough +to cloak such daring infamy? + +He was in the atrium, standing on the spot where first he had talked +with her. As then, he gazed at the bronze group of the candelabrum; +his eyes were fixed on those of Proserpine. + +A slave entered and announced to him a visit from one of the priests +whom he was going to see when the meeting at the bridge changed his +purpose. The name startled him. Was this man sent by God? He bade +introduce the visitor, and in a moment there entered a +white-bearded, shoulder-bowed ecclesiastic, perspiring from the +sunshine, who greeted him with pleasant cordiality. This priest it +was--he bore the name Gaudiosus--who had baptized Marcian, and +had given him in childhood religious teaching; a good, but timid +man, at all times readier to praise than to reprove, a well-meaning +utterer of smooth things, closing his eyes to evil, which confused +rather than offended him. From the same newsbearer, who told him of +Marcian's arrival at the villa, Gaudiosus had heard of a mysterious +lady; but it was far from his thought to meddle with the morals of +one whose noble birth and hereditary position of patron inspired him +with respect; he came only to gossip about the affairs of the time. +They sat down together, Marcian glad of the distraction. But scarce +had they been talking for five minutes, when again the servant +presented himself. + +'What now?' asked his master impatiently. + +'My lord, at the gate is the lord Basil.' + +Marcian started up. + +'Basil? How equipped and attended?' + +'Armed, on horseback, and with a number of armed horsemen.' + +'Withdraw, and wait outside till I call you.' + +Marcian turned to the presbyter. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes +strangely bright. + +'Here,' he said, in low, hurried tones, 'comes an evil man, a +deep-dyed traitor, with the aspect of friendliest integrity. I am +glad you are with me. I have no leisure now to tell you the story; +you shall hear it afterwards. What I ask of you, reverend father, is +to bear me out in all I say, to corroborate, if asked to do so, all +I state to him. You may rely upon the truth of every word I shall +utter; and may be assured that, in doing this, you serve only the +cause of good. Let it not surprise you that I receive the man with +open arms. He was my dear friend; I have only of late discovered his +infamy, and for the gravest reasons, which you shall learn, I am +obliged to mask my knowledge. Beloved father, you will give me your +countenance?' + +'I will, I will,' replied Gaudiosus nervously. 'You would not +deceive me, I well know, dear son.' + +'God forbid!' + +Marcian summoned the waiting servant, and ordered that the traveller +should be straightway admitted. A few minutes passed in absolute +silence, then, as the two stood gazing towards the entrance, they +saw the gleam of a casque and of a breastplate, and before them +stood Basil. His arms extended, Marcian stepped forward. + +'So soon, O brave Basil!' he exclaimed. 'What speed you must have +made! How long is it since my letter reached you?' + +There passed the semblance of an embrace between them. Basil was +death pale; he spoke in hollow tones, as though his tongue were +parched, and looked with bloodshot eyes from Marcian to the +ecclesiastic. + +'I am travel-worn. Your hospitality must restore me.' + +'That it shall,' replied Marcian. 'Or, better still,' he added, 'the +hospitality of my father Gaudiosus.' He touched the priest's arm, as +if affectionately. 'For here there is little solace; barely one +chamber habitable. You have often heard me describe, O Basil, my +poor, ruinous island villa, and now at length you behold it. I did +not think you would pass this way, or I would have prepared for your +fitting reception. By the greatest chance you find me here; and +to-morrow I must be gone. But scarce two thousand paces from here is +the dwelling of this reverend man, who will entertain you fittingly, +and give you the care you need; for it seems to me, dear Basil, that +you are more than wearied.' + +The listener nodded, and let himself drop upon a seat near to where +Marcian was standing. + +'What have you to tell me?' he asked under his breath. + +'Nothing good, alas!' was the murmured reply. + +'Shall we speak in private?' + +'Nay, it is needless. All my secrets lie open to Gaudiosus.' + +Again Basil cast a glance at the presbyter, who had seated himself +and appeared to be absorbed in thought. + +'Do you mean,' he asked, 'that something new has befallen?' + +His eyes were upon Marcian, and Marcian's upon those of Proserpine. + +'Yes, something new. The deacon of whom you know has left Rome, +accompanying the Pope on his journey eastward. And with him he has +taken--' + +A name was shaped upon the speaker's lips, but whether of purpose, +or because his voice failed him, it found no utterance. + +'Veranilda?' + +As Basil spoke, his eye was caught by the movement of a curtain at +the back of the room. The curtain was pushed aside, and there +appeared the figure of a maiden, pale, beautiful. Marcian did not +see her, nor yet did the priest. + +'Veranilda?' repeated Basil, in the same questioning tone. He leaned +forward, his hand upon his wrist. + +'She--alas!' was Marcian's reply. + +'Liar! traitor! devil!' + +At each word, Basil's dagger drank blood up to the hilt. With his +furious voice blended a yell of terror, of agony, a faint cry of +horror from Gaudiosus, and a woman's scream. Then came silence. + +The priest dropped to his knees by Marcian's prostrate form. Basil, +the stained weapon in his crimson hand, stared at Veranilda, who +also had fallen. + +'Man! What hast thou done?' gasped Gaudiosus. + +The trembling, senile tones wakened Basil as if from a trance. He +thrust his dagger into its sheath, stepped to the back of the room, +and bent over the white loveliness that lay still. + +'Is it death?' he murmured. + +'Death! death!' answered the priest, who had just heard Marcian's +last sob. + +'I speak not of that perjured wretch,' said Basil. 'Come hither.' + +Gaudiosus obeyed, and looked with wonder at the unconscious face. + +'Who is this?' he asked. + +'No matter who. Does she live?' + +Basil had knelt, and taken one of the little hands in both his own, +staining it with the blood of Marcian. + +'I can feel no throb of life,' he said, speaking coldly, +mechanically. + +The priest bent, and put his cheek to her lips. + +'She lives. This is but a swoon. Help me to bear her to the couch.' + +But Basil took the slender body in his arms, and carried it like +that of a child. When he had laid it down, he looked at Gaudiosus +sternly. + +'Have you authority in this house?' + +'Some little, perhaps. I know not. What is your will?' + +Utterly confounded, his eyes dropping moisture, his limbs shaken as +if with palsy, the priest babbled his reply. + +'Use any power you have,' continued Basil, 'to prevent more +bloodshed. Outside the gates are men of mine. Bid the porter admit +them to the outer court. Then call thither two servants, and let +them bear away _that_--whither you will. After, you shall hear +more.' + +Like an obedient slave, Gaudiosus sped on his errand. Basil the +while stood gazing at Veranilda; but he did not go very near to her, +and his look had nothing of tenderness. He saw the priest return, +followed by two men, heard him whisper to them, saw them take up and +carry away their master's corpse; all this as if it did not regard +him. Again he turned his gaze upon Veranilda. It seemed to him that +her lips, her eyelids moved. He bent forward, heard a sigh. Then the +blue eyes opened, but as yet saw nothing. + +Gaudiosus reappeared, and Basil beckoned him. + +'You do not know her?' he asked in a low voice. + +'I never looked upon her face till now,' was the reply. + +At the sound of their voices Veranilda stirred, tried to rouse +herself, uttered a sound of distress. + +'Speak to her,' said Basil. + +Gaudiosus approached the couch, and spoke soothing words. + +'What dreadful thought is this?' said Veranilda. 'What have I seen?' + +The priest whispered an adjuration to prayer. But she, raising her +head, cast terrified glances about the hall. Basil had moved further +away, and she did not seem to be aware of his presence. + +'How long is it,' he asked, with his eyes upon Gaudiosus, 'since +Marcian came from Rome?' + +'This is the fourth day. So I have been told. I myself saw him for +the first time not an hour--nay, not half an hour ago.' + +'You knew not that he brought _her_ with him?' + +Basil, without looking in that direction, signalled with his head +towards Veranilda. + +'I had heard of some companion unnamed.' + +'He had not spoken of her to you?' + +'Not a word.' + +On the tesselated floor where Marcian had fallen was a pool of +blood. Basil only now perceived it, and all at once a violent +shudder went over him. + +'Man of God!' he exclaimed in a voice of sudden passion, terribly +resonant after the dull, hard accents of his questioning. 'You look +upon me with abhorrence, and, perhaps, with fear. Hearken to my +vindication. He whom I have slain was the man I held in dearest +friendship. I believed him true to the heart's core. Yesterday-- +was it but yesterday?--O blessed Christ!--it seems to me so long +ago--I learned that his heart was foul with treachery. Long, long, +he has lied to me, pretending to seek with me for one I had lost, my +plighted love. In secret he robbed me of her. Heard you not his +answer when, to catch the lie on his very lips, I asked what news he +could give me of her. I knew that she was here; his own servant had +secretly avowed the truth to me. And you heard him say that she was +gone on far travel. Therefore it was that he would not harbour me in +his house--me, his friend. In the name of the Crucified, did I not +well to lay him low?' + +Somewhat recovered from the emotions which had enfeebled him, +Gaudiosus held up his head, and made solemn answer. + +'Not yours was it to take vengeance. The God to whom you appeal has +said: "Thou shalt do no murder."' + +'Consider his crime,' returned the other. 'In the moment when he +swore falsely I lifted up my eyes, and behold, she herself stood +before me. She whom I loved, who had pledged herself to me, who long +ago would have been my wife but for the enemy who came between us-- +she, hidden here with him, become a wanton in his embraces--' + +A low cry of anguish interrupted him. He turned. Veranilda had risen +and drawn near. + +'Basil! You know not what you say.' + +'Nor what I _could_ say,' he replied, his eyes blazing with scorn. +'You, who were truth itself have you so well learned to lie? Talk +on. Tell me that he held you here perforce, and that you passed the +days and the nights in weeping. Have I not heard of your smiles and +your contentment? Whither did you stray this morning? Did you go +into the wood to say your orisons?' + +Veranilda turned to the priest. + +'Servant of God I Hear me, unhappy that I am!' + +With a gesture of entreaty she flung out her hands, and, in doing +so, saw that one of them was red. Her woebegone look changed to +terror. + +'What is this? His blood is upon me--on my hand, my garment. When +did I touch him? Holy father, whither has he gone? Does he live? Oh, +tell me if he lives!' + +'Come hence with me,' said Gaudiosus. 'Come where I may hear you +utter the truth before God.' + +But Veranilda was as one distraught. She threw herself on to her +knees. + +'Tell me he lives. He is but sorely hurt? He can speak? Whither have +they carried him?' + +Confirmed in his damning thought by every syllable she uttered, +Basil strode away. + +'Lead her where you will,' he shouted. 'I stay under this abhorred +roof only till my men have eaten and taken rest.' + +Without knowing it, he had stepped into the pool of blood, and a red +track was left behind him as he went forth from the hall. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +THE RED HAND + + + + +Resting at length from desire and intrigue, Marcian lay cold upon +the bed where he had passed his haunted nights. About his corpse +were gathered all the servants of the house; men, with anger on +their brows, muttering together, and women wailing low because of +fear. The girl who had met the horsemen by the bridge told her +story, whence it became evident that Marcian's death was the result +of private quarrel; but some of the slaves declared that this armed +company came in advance of the Gothic host; and presently the loss +of their master was all but forgotten in anxiety as to their own +fate at the hands of the Emperor. + +This talk was interrupted by the approach of Basil's men, who came +to seek a meal for themselves and forage for their horses. Having no +choice but to obey, the servants went about the work required of +them. A quiet fell upon the house. The strangers talked little, and, +when they spoke, subdued their voices. In still chambers and +corridors was heard now and then a sound of weeping. + +Basil, though he had given orders for departure as soon as the meal +was done, knew not whither his journey should be directed. A +paralysis of thought and will kept him pacing alone in the +courtyard; food he could not touch; of repose he was incapable; and +though he constantly lifted up his bloodstained hand, to gaze at it +as if in bewildered horror, he did not even think of washing the +blood away. At moments he lost consciousness of what he had done, +his mind straying to things remote; then the present came back upon +him with a shock, seeming, however, to strike on numbed senses, so +that he had to say to himself, 'I have slain Marcian,' before he +could fully understand his suffering. + +Veranilda was now scarce present to his mind at all. Something +vaguely outlined hovered in the background; something he durst not +look at or think about; the sole thing in the world that had reality +for him was the image of Marcian--stabbed, shrieking, falling, +dead. Every minute was the fearful scene re-enacted. More than once +he checked himself in his walk, seeming to be about to step on +Marcian's body. + +At length, seeing a shadow draw near, he raised his eyes and beheld +Gaudiosus. He tried to speak, but found that his tongue clave to the +roof of his mouth. Automatically he crossed himself, then caught the +priest's hand, and knelt and kissed it. + +'Rise, my son,' said Gaudiosus, 'for I would talk with you.' + +On one side of the courtyard was a portico with seats, and thither +the old man led. + +'Unless,' he began gravely, 'unless the author of all falsehood-- +who is so powerful over women--has entered into this maiden to +baffle and mislead me utterly, I feel assured that she is chaste; +not merely unsullied in the flesh, but as pure of heart as her +fallen nature may permit a woman to be.' + +Basil gazed at him darkly. + +'My father, how can you believe it? Did you not hear her lament +because the man was dead? It is indeed the devil that beguiles you.' + +Gaudiosus bent his head, and pondered anxiously. + +'Tell me,' he said at length, 'all her story, that I may compare it +with what I have heard from her own lips.' + +Slowly at first, and confusedly, with hesitations, repetitions, long +pauses, Basil recited the history of Veranilda, so far as he knew +it. The priest listened and nodded, and when silence came, continued +the narrative. If Veranilda spoke truth she had never seen Marcian +until he took her from the convent at Praeneste. Moreover, Marcian +had never uttered to her a word of love; in his house she had lived +as chastely as among the holy sisters. + +'What did she here, then?' asked Basil bitterly. 'Why did he bring +her here? You know, O father, that it was not in fulfilment of his +promise to me, for you heard his shameless lie when I questioned +him.' + +'He told her,' replied the priest, 'that she sojourned here only +until he could put her under the protection of the Gothic King.' + +'Of Totila?' cried Basil. 'Nay, for all I know, he may have thought +of that--his passion being appeased.' + +Even as he spoke be remembered Sagaris and the letter written in +Gothic. Some motive of interest might, indeed, have prompted Marcian +to this step. None the less was he Veranilda's lover. Would he +otherwise have kept her here with him, alone, and not rather have +continued the journey, with all speed, till he reached Totila's +camp? + +'When I left her,' pursued Gaudiosus, whose confidence in his own +judgment was already shaken by the young man's vehemence, 'I spoke +in private with certain of the bondswomen, who declared to me that +they could avouch the maiden's innocence since her coming hither-- +until to-day's sunrise.' + +Basil laughed with scorn. + +'Until to-day's sunrise? And pray, good father, what befell her at +that moment? What whisper the Argus-eyed bondswomen?' + +'They tell me,' replied the priest, 'that she went forth and met +Marcian, and walked with him in a wood, her own woman having been +sent back to the villa. This troubled me; but her voice, her +countenance--' + +'Helped by the devil,' broke in Basil. 'Reverend man, do not seek to +deceive yourself, or to solace me with a vain hope. I pray you, did +Marcian, when you came to visit him, speak of a lady whose virtue he +was sworn to guard? Plainly, not a word fell from him. Yet assuredly +he would have spoken had things been as you pretend.' + +Gaudiosus, bent double, a hand propping his white-bearded chin, +mused for a little with sadded air. + +'Lord Basil,' he resumed at length, 'somewhat more have I to say to +you. I live far from the world, and hear little of its rumour. Until +this day your name was unknown to me, and of good concerning you I +have to this hour heard nothing save from your own lips. May I +credit this report you make of yourself? Or should I rather believe +what Marcian, in brief words, declared to me when he heard that you +were at his gate?' + +The speaker paused, as if to collect courage. + +'He spoke ill of me?' asked Basil. + +'He spoke much ill. He accused you of disloyalty in friendship, +saying that he had but newly learnt how you had deceived him. More +than this he had not time to tell.' + +Basil looked into the old man's rheumy eyes. + +'You do well to utter this, good father. Tell me one thing more. +Yonder maiden, does she breathe the same charge against me?' + +'Not so,' replied Gaudiosus. 'Of you she said no evil.' + +'Yet I scarce think'--he smiled coldly--'that she made +profession of love for me?' + +'My son, her speech was maidenly. She spoke of herself as erstwhile +your betrothed; no more than that.' + +As he uttered these words, the priest rose. He had an uneasy look, +as if he feared that infirmity of will and fondness for gossip had +betrayed him into some neglect of spiritual obligation. + +'It is better,' he said, 'that we should converse no more. I know +not what your purposes may be, nor do they concern me I remain here +to pray by the dead, and I shall despatch a messenger to my brother +presbyter, that we may prepare for the burial. Remember,' he raised +his head, and his voice struck a deeper note, 'that the guilt of +blood is upon you, and that no plea of earthly passion will avail +before the Almighty Judge. Behold your hand--even so, but far more +deeply have you stained your soul.' + +Basil scarce heard. Numbness had crept over him again; he stared at +the doorway by which the priest re-entered the house, and only after +some minutes recalled enough of the old man's last words to look +upon his defiled hand. Then he called aloud, summoning any slave who +might hear him, and when the doorkeeper came timidly from a recess +where he had been skulking, bade him bring water. Having cleansed +himself, he walked by an outer way to the rear of the villa; for he +durst not pass through the atrium. + +Here his men were busy over their meal, sitting or sprawling in a +shadowed place, the slaves waiting upon them. With a reminder that +they must hold themselves ready to ride at any moment, he passed on +through a large, wild garden, and at length, where a grove of +box-trees surrounded the ruins of a little summer-house, cast +himself to the ground. + +His breast heaved, his eyes swelled and smarted, but he could not +shed tears. Face downwards, like a man who bites the earth in his +last agony, he lay quivering. So did an hour or more pass by. + +He was roused by the voices of his men, who were searching and +calling for him. With an effort, he rose to his feet, and stepped +out into the sunshine, when he learnt that a troop of soldiers had +just ridden up to the villa, and that their captain, who had already +entered, was asking for him by name. Careless what might await him, +Basil followed the men as far as the inner court, and there stood +Venantius. + +'I surprise you,' cried out the genial voice with a cheery laugh. +You had five hours start of me. Pray, dear lord, when did you get +here?' + +Basil could make no reply, and the other, closely observing his +strange countenance, went on to explain that, scarcely started from +Aesernia on his way to the king, Marcian's messenger had met with +Totila himself, who was nearer than had been thought. After reading +the letter, Totila had come on rapidly to Aesernia, and had +forthwith despatched Venantius to the villa by Arpinum. + +'You guess my mission, lord Basil,' he pursued, with bluff +good-humour. 'Dullard that I was, the talk of a fair lady travelling +in Marcian's charge never brought to my mind that old story of +Surrentum. Here is our royal Totila all eagerness to see this +maiden--if maiden still she be. What say you on that point, dear lord? +Nay, look not so fiercely at me. I am not here to call any one to +account, but only to see that the Gothic beauty comes safe to +Aesernia as soon as may be.' + +'You will find her within,' muttered Basil. + +'And Marcian? I might have thought I came inopportunely to this +dwelling, but that he himself wrote to the king that the lady was +here.' + +'You are assured of that?' Basil asked, under his breath. + +'I have Totila's word for it, at all events. But you seem indisposed +for talk, lord Basil, and my business is with Marcian. The slaves +all look scared, and can't or won't answer a plain question. I have +no time to waste. Tell me, I pray you, where the lord of the villa +may be found.' + +Basil summoned one of his followers. + +'Conduct the lord Venantius to Marcian's chamber.' + +It was done. Basil remained standing in the same spot, his eyes cast +down, till a quick step announced the captain's return. Venantius +came close up to him, and spoke in a grave but not unfriendly voice: + +'The priest has told me what he saw, but will not say more. I ask +you nothing, lord Basil. You will make your defence to the king.' + +'Be it so.' + +'My men must rest for an hour,' continued Venantius. 'We shall ride +this afternoon as far as Aquinum, and there pass the night. I go now +to speak with Veranilda.' + +'As you will.' + +Basil withdrew into the portico, sat down, and covered his face with +his hands. Fever consumed him, and a dreadful melancholy weighed +upon his spirit. At a respectful distance from him, his followers +had assembled, ready for departure. The soldiers who had come with +Venantius, a score in number, were eating and drinking outside the +gates. Within, all was quiet. Half an hour elapsed, and Venantius +again came forward. Seeing Basil in the shadow of the portico, he +went and sat beside him, and began to speak with rough but +well-meaning solace. Why this heaviness? If he surmised aright, +Basil had but avenged himself as any man would have done. For his +own part, he had never thought enough of any woman to kill a man on +her account; but such little troubles were of everyday occurrence, +and must not be taken too much to heart. He had seen this Gothic +damsel of whom there had been so much rumour, and, by Diana I (if +the oath were not inappropriate) her face deserved all that was said +of it. His rival being out of the way, why should not Basil pluck up +cheer? Totila would not deal harshly in such a matter as this, and +more likely than not he would be disposed to give the maiden to a +Roman of noble race, his great desire being to win all Romans by +generosity. + +'Yonder priest tells me,' he added, 'that you were over hasty; that +you struck on a mere suspicion. And methinks he may be right. By the +Holy Cross, I could well believe this maiden a maiden in very deed. +I never looked upon a purer brow, an eye that spoke more innocently. +Hark ye, my good Basil, I am told that you have not spoken with her. +If you would fain do so before we set forth, I will be no hinderer. +Go, if you will, into yonder room'--he pointed to a door near by--' +and when she descends (I have but to call), you shall see her +undisturbed.' + +For a moment Basil sat motionless; then, without a word, he rose and +went whither Venantius directed him. But a few minutes passed before +he saw Veranilda enter. She was clad for travel, a veil over her +face; this, and the shadow in which Basil stood, made her at first +unaware of his presence, for Venantius had only requested her to +enter this room until the carriage was ready. Standing with bowed +head, she sobbed. + +'Why do you weep?' demanded an abrupt voice, which made her draw +back trembling. + +Basil moved a little towards her. + +'You weep for _him_?' he added in the same pitiless tone. + +'For him, for you, and for myself, alas! alas!' + +The subdued anguish of her voice did not touch Basil. He burned with +hatred of her and of the dead man. + +'Shed no tears for me. I am cured of a long folly. And for you +consolation will not be slow in coming. Who knows but you may throw +your spell upon Totila himself.' + +'You know not what you say,' replied Veranilda; not, as when she +used the words before, in accents quivering from a stricken heart, +but with sorrowful dignity and self-command. 'Is it Basil who speaks +thus? Were it only the wrong done me that I had to bear, I could +keep silence, waiting until God restored your justice and your +gentleness. But, though in nothing blameworthy, I am the cause of +what has come about; for had I not entered that room when I did, you +would not have struck the fatal blow. Listen then, O Basil, whilst I +make known to you what happened before you came.' + +She paused to control herself. + +'I must go back to the night when I left the convent. No one had +told me I was to go away. In the middle of the night I was aroused +and led forth, with me the woman who served me. We had travelled an +hour or two, perhaps, when some one standing by the carriage spoke +to me, some one who said he was Marcian the friend of Basil, and +bade me have no fears, for Basil awaited me at the end of the +journey. The next day he spoke to me again, this time face to face, +but only a few words. We came to this villa. You have been told, by +I know not whom, that I was light of heart. It is true, for I +believed what Marcian had said to me, and nothing had befallen to +disturb my gladness. I lived with my serving woman privately, in +quiet and hope. This morning, yielding, alas! to a wish which I +thought harmless, I went forth with my attendant to the waterfall. +As I stood gazing at it, the lord Marcian came forth on horseback. +He alighted to speak with me, and presently asked if I would go to +see another fall of the river, across the island. I consented. As we +went, he dismissed my servant, and I did not know what he had done +(thinking she still followed), until, when we were in a wood at the +water's edge, I could no longer see the woman, and Marcian told me +he had bidden her go to fetch seats for us. Then he began to speak, +and what he said, how shall I tell you?' + +There was another brief silence. Basil did not stir; his eyes were +bent sternly upon the veiled visage. + +'Was it evil in his heart that shaped such words? Or had he been +deceived by some other? He said that Basil had forgotten me; that +Basil loved, and would soon wed, a lady in Rome. More than that, he +said that Basil was plotting to get me into his power, his purpose +being to deliver me to the Greeks, who would take me to +Constantinople. But Marcian, so he declared, had rescued me in time, +and I was to be guarded by the King of the Goths.' + +The listener moved, raising his arm and letting it fall again. But +he breathed no word. + +'This did he tell me,' she added. 'I went back to the villa to my +chamber. I sat thinking, I know not how long; I know not how long. +Then, unable to remain any longer alone, driven by my dreadful +doubt, I came forth to seek Marcian. I descended the stairs to the +atrium. You saw me--alas! alas!' + +Basil drew nearer to her. + +'He had spoken no word of love?' + +'No word. I had no fear of _that_.' + +'Why, then, did he frame these lies, these hellish lies?' + +'Alas!' cried Veranilda, clasping her hands above her head. 'Did he +still live, the truth might be discovered. His first words to me, in +the night when he stood beside the carriage, sounded so kind and +true; he named himself the friend of Basil, said that Basil awaited +me at the journey's end. How could he speak so, if he indeed then +thought you what he afterwards said? Oh, were he alive, to stand +face to face with me again!' + +'It is not enough,' asked Basil harshly, 'that I tell you he lied?' + +She did not on the instant reply, and he, possessed with unreasoning +bitterness, talked wildly on. + +'No! You believed him, and believe him still. I can well fancy that +he spoke honestly at first; but when he had looked into your face, +when he had talked with you, something tempted him to villainy. Go! +Your tears and your lamentations betray you. It is not of me that +you think, but of him, him, only him! "Oh, were he alive!" Ay, keep +your face bidden; you know too well it could not bear my eyes upon +it.' + +Veranilda threw back the long veil, and stood looking at him. + +'Eyes red with weeping,' he exclaimed, 'and for whom? If you were +true to me, would you not rejoice that I had slain my enemy? You say +you were joyful in the thought of seeing me again? You see me--and +with what countenance?' + +'I see not Basil,' she murmured, her hands upon her breast. + +'You see a false lover, an ignoble traitor--the Basil shown you by +Marcian. What would it avail me to speak in my own defence? His +voice is in your ears, its lightest tone outweighing my most solemn +oath. "Oh, that he were alive!" That is all you find to say to me.' + +'I know you not,' sobbed Veranilda. 'Alas, I know you not!' + +'Nor I you. I dreamt of a Veranilda who loved so purely and so +constantly that not a thousand slanderers could have touched her +heart with a shadow of mistrust. But who are you--you whom the +first gross lie of a man lusting for your beauty utterly estranges +from your faith? Who are you--who wail for the liar's death, and +shrink in horror from the hand that slew him? I ever heard that the +daughters of the Goths were chaste and true and fearless. So they +may be--all but one, whose birth marked her for faithlessness.' + +As though smitten by a brutal blow, Veranilda bowed her head, +shuddering. Once more she looked at Basil, for an instant, with wide +eyes of fear; then hid herself beneath the veil, and was gone. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +THE MOUNT OF THE MONK + + + + +Basil rode with his own man apart from Venantius and the soldiers +who guarded the conveyance in which sat Veranilda. Venantius, for +his part, would fain have lightened the way with friendly talk, but +finding Basil irresponsive, he left him to his gloomy meditations. +And so they came to Aquinum, where they passed the night. + +By way of precaution, the captain set a guard before the house in +which his fellow-traveller slept, and at daybreak, as soon as he had +risen, one of the soldiers thus employed reported to him that the +young Roman had fallen into such distemper that it seemed doubtful +whether he could continue the journey; a servant who had slept at +Basil's door declared that all through the night his master had +talked wildly, like one fever-frenzied. Venantius visited the sick +man, and found him risen, but plainly in poor case for travel. + +'Why, you will never mount your horse,' he opined, after touching +Basil's hand, and finding it on fire. 'This is what comes of a +queasy conscience. Take heart, man! Are you the first that stuck a +false friend between the ribs, or the first to have your love kissed +against her will? That it _was_ against her will, I take upon myself +to swear. You are too fretful, my good lord. Come, now! What are we +to do with you?' + +'I can ride on,' answered Basil. 'Pay no heed to me, and leave me in +peace, I pray you.' + +He was helped to horseback, and the cavalcade went forth again along +the Latin Way. This morning, no beam of sunrise shone above the +mountains; the heavens were sullen, and a hot wind blew from the +south. Even Venantius, though he hummed a song to himself, felt the +sombre influence of the air, and kept glancing uneasily backwards at +the death-pale man, who rode with head upon his breast. Scarcely had +they ridden for an hour at foot-pace, when a shout caught the +captain's ear; he turned, just in time to see Basil dropping to the +ground. + +'God's thunder!' he growled. 'I have been expecting this. Well if he +dies, it may save the king some trouble.' + +He jumped down, and went to Basil's side. At first the sufferer +could not speak, but when water had been given him, he gazed at +Venantius with a strange smile, and, pointing before him, said +faintly: + +'Is not yonder Casinum?' + +'It is. We will bear you thither for harbourage. Courage, friend!' + +'Above, on the mountain,' continued Basil painfully, 'dwells my +kinsman Benedict, with his holy men. Could I but reach the +monastery!' + +'Why, perchance you may,' replied the captain. 'And in truth you +would be better cared for there.' + +'Help me, good Venantius!' panted Basil, with eyes of entreaty. 'Let +me die in the monastery.' + +In those days of pestilence, every fever-stricken person was an +object of dread to all but the most loving or the most courageous. +The stalwart Venantius thought for a moment of carrying Basil before +him on his horse, but prudence overcame this humane impulse. Into +the carriage, for the same reason (had there been no other), he +could not be put; but there was a vacant place beside the driver, +and here, supported with cords, he managed to keep his seat until +they arrived at Casinum. + +Owing to its position on the highroad, trodden by so many barbaric +armies, this city had suffered repeated devastation. Its great +buildings stood desolate, or had fallen to utter ruin, and the +country around, once famous for its fertility, showed but a few poor +farms. What inhabitants remained dwelt at the foot of the great hill +on whose summit rose the citadel, still united with the town by two +great walls. After passing between the tombs on the Latin Way, +memorials of citizens long dead, the travellers entered by an +unprotected gateway, and here Venantius called a halt. Wishing to +make no longer pause than was needful to put the sick man in safety, +he despatched a few soldiers through the silent town to seek for +means of conveying Basil up to the monastery on the height. By good +luck these emissaries came upon a couple of monks, who lost no time +in arranging for the conveyance of the sufferer. A light cart drawn +by two mules speedily appeared, and on this Basil was laid. One only +of his men did Venantius allow to accompany him, the others were +bidden ride on with the captain's own soldiers to Aesernia. + +'There you will find us all when you are on your legs again,' said +Venantius, 'unless by that time we have marched Romewards, in which +case you shall have a message. Trust me to look after all you left +there; I answer for its safety and for that of your good fellows. +Keep up heart, and God make you sound.' + +Basil, couched on a bed of dry leaves, raised himself so as to watch +the troop as it rode forth again from the ruined gate. Whether she +who sat hidden within the carriage had heard of his evil plight he +knew not, and could not have brought himself to ask. The last of his +own horsemen (some of whom had taken leave of him with tears) having +vanished from sight, he fell back, and for a while knew nothing but +the burning torment in his brain. + +The ascent of the mountain began. It was a rough, narrow road, +winding through a thick forest of oak and beech trees, here and +there so steep as to try the firm footing of the mules, and in +places dangerous because of broken ground on the edge of precipitous +declivities. The cart was driven by its owner, a peasant of Casinum, +who at times sat sideways on one of the beasts, at times walked by +them; behind came the two religious men, cowled, bare-footed; and +last Basil's attendant on horseback. + +From Venantius the monks had learned who their charge was. His noble +origin, and still more the fact of his kindred with their beloved +Abbot Benedict, inspired in them a special interest. They spoke of +him in whispers together, compassionated his sufferings, remarked on +the comeliness of his features, and assured each other that they +detected in him no symptom of the plague. It being now the third +hour, they ceased from worldly talk and together recited their +office, whereto the peasant and the horseman gave pious ear. + +Basil lay with closed eyes, but at a certain moment he seemed to +become aware of what was passing, crossed himself, and then folded +his hands upon his breast in the attitude of prayer. Having observed +this, one of the monks, his orisons finished, went up to the cart +and spoke comfortable words. He was a man in the prime of life, with +cheek as fresh as a maid's, and a step that seemed incapable of +weariness; his voice sounded a note of gentle kindness which caused +the sufferer to smile at him in gratitude. + +'This tree,' he said presently, pointing to a noble beech, its bole +engraven with a cross, 'marks the middle point of the ascent. A +weary climb for the weak, but not without profit to him who thinks +as he walks--for, as our dear brother Marcus has said, in those +verses we are never tired of repeating:-- + +"Semper difficili quaeruntur summa labore, +Arctam semper habet vita beata viam."' + +The other monk, an older man, who walked less vigorously, echoed the +couplet with slow emphasis, as if savouring every word. Then both +together, bowing their cowled heads, exclaimed fervently: + +'Thanks be to God for the precious gifts of our brother Marcus!' + +Basil endeavoured to utter a few words, but he was now so feeble +that he could scarce make his voice heard above the creak of the +wheels. Again he closed his eyes, and his companions pursued their +way in silence. When at length they issued from the forest they +overlooked a vast landscape of hill and valley, with heads of +greater mountains high above them. Here rose the walls of the +citadel, within which Benedict had built his monastery. For some +distance around these ancient ramparts the ground was tilled, and +flourishing with various crops. At the closed gateway of the old +Arx, flanked by a tower, the monks rang, and were at once admitted +into the courtyard, where, in a few moments, the prior and all his +brethren came forward to greet the strangers. Because of Basil's +condition the ceremony usual on such arrivals was in his case +curtailed: the prior uttered a brief prayer, gave the kiss of peace, +and ordered forthwith the removal of the sick man to a +guest-chamber, where he was laid in bed and ministered to by the +brother Marcus, whose gifts as a healer were not less notable than +his skill in poesy. The horseman, meanwhile, as custom was with all +visitors, had been led to the oratory to hear a passage of Holy +Scripture; after which the prior poured water upon his hands, and +certain of the monks washed his feet. + +Before sunset Basil lost consciousness of present things; and many +days went by before he again spoke as a sane man. When at length the +fever declined, and his head turned upon the pillow in search of a +human countenance, he saw standing beside him a venerable figure in +the monastic garb, whose visage, though wrinkled with age and +thought, had such noble vividness in its look, and wore a smile so +like that of youth in its half-playful sweetness, that Basil could +but gaze wonderingly, awestruck at once, and charmed by this +unexpected apparition. + +'My son,' sounded in a voice grave and tender, 'be your first +syllables uttered to Him by whose omnipotent will you are restored +to the life of this world.' + +With the obedience of a child he clasped his thin hands, and +murmured the prayer of childhood. Then the gracious figure bent over +him. He felt the touch of lips upon his forehead, and in the same +moment fell asleep. + +It was night when he again woke. A little lamp revealed bare walls +of stone, a low, timbered ceiling, a floor of red tiles. Basil's +eyes, as soon as they were open, looked for the venerable figure +which he remembered. Finding no one, he thought the memory was but +of a dream. Feeling wonderfully at ease in body and calm in mind, he +lay musing on that vision of the noble countenance, doubting after +all whether a dream could have left so distinct an impression, when +all at once there fell upon his ear a far sound of chanting, a +harmony so sweetly solemn that it melted his heart and filled his +eyes with tears. Not long after, when all was silent again, he heard +the sound of soft footsteps without, and in the same moment the door +of his cell opened. The face which looked in seemed not quite +unknown to him, though he could not recall where he had seen it. + +'You have slept long, dear brother,' said Marcus, with a happy +smile. 'Is all well with you?' + +'Well, God he thanked,' was the clear but faint reply. + +The poet-physician, a small, nervous, bright-eyed man of some forty +years, sat down on a stool by the bedside and began talking +cheerfully. He had just come from matins, and was this morning +excused from lauds because it behoved him to gather certain herbs, +to be used medicinally in the case of a brother who had fallen sick +yesterday. Touching a little gold locket which Basil wore round his +neck on a gold thread he asked what this contained, and being told +that it was a morsel of the Crown of Thorns, he nodded with +satisfaction. + +'We questioned whether to leave it on you or not, for we could not +open it, and there was a fear lest it might contain something'--he +smiled and shook his bead and sighed--'much less sacred. The lord +abbot, doubtless'--here his voice sank--'after a vision, though +of this he spoke not, decided that it should be left. There was no +harm, for all that'--his eyes twinked merrily--'in tying this +upon the place where you suffered so grievously.' + +From amid Basil's long hair he detached what looked like a tiny +skein of hemp, which, with an air singularly blended of shrewdness +and reverence, he declared to be a portion of a garb of penitence +worn by the Holy Martin, to whom the oratory here was dedicated. +Presently Basil found strength to ask whether the abbot had been +beside him. + +'Many times,' was the answer. 'The last, no longer ago than +yestereve, ere he went to compline. You would have seen him on the +day of your arrival, ere yet you became distraught, but that a +heaviness lay upon him because of the loss of a precious manuscript +on its way hither from Rome--a manuscript which had been procured +for him after much searching, only to be lost by the folly of one to +whom it was intrusted; if, indeed, it was not rather whisked away by +the Evil One, who, powerless for graver ill against our holy father, +at times seeks to discomfort him by small practice of spite. Sorrow +for this loss brought on a distemper to which his age is subject.' + +Reminded all at once that he had no time to lose, Marcus threw open +the shutter, extinguished the lamp, and slipped away, leaving his +patient with eyes turned to the pale glimmer of dawn at the tiny +window. Now only did there stir in Basil clear recollection of the +events which had preceded his coming hither. Marcus's sly word in +regard to the locket had awakened his mind, and in a few moments he +thought connectedly. But without emotion, unless it were a vague, +tender sadness. All seemed to have happened so long ago. It was like +a story he had heard in days gone by. He thought of it until his +brain began to weary, then again came sleep. + +A day or two passed. He had begun to eat with keen appetite, and his +strength increased hour by hour. On a Sunday, after the office of +the third hour, Marcus cheerily gave him permission to rise. This +prompted Basil to inquire whether his man, who had come with him, +was still in the monastery. Marcus, with eyes averted, gave a nod. +Might he speak with him, Basil asked. Presently, presently, was the +answer. Marcus himself aided the convalescent to dress; then having +seated him in a great chair of rude wickerwork, used only on +occasions such as this, left him to bask in a beam of sunshine. +Before long, his meal was brought him, and with it a book, bound in +polished wood and metal, which he found to be a Psalter. Herein, +when he had eaten, he read for an hour or so, not, however, without +much wandering of the thoughts. He had fallen into reverie, when his +door opened, and there appeared before him the Abbot Benedict. + +Basil started up, stood for a moment in agitation, then sank upon +his knees, with head reverently bowed. + +'Rise, rise, my son,' spoke the voice which had so moved him in his +vision of a week ago, a voice subdued by years, but perfectly steady +and distinct. 'Our good brother Marcus assures me that I may talk +with you a little while without fear of overtasking your strength-- +nay, sit where you were, I pray you. Thanks be to God, I need not +support for my back.' + +So saying, the abbot seated himself on the stool, and gazed at Basil +with a smile of infinite benevolence. + +'Your face,' he continued, 'speaks to me of a time very far away. I +see in it the presentment of your father's father, with whom, when +he was much of your age, I often talked. His mother had a villa at +Nursia, the home of my youth. Once he turned aside from a journey to +visit me when I dwelt at Sublaqueum.' + +The reminiscence checked his tongue he kept silence for a moment, +musing gravely. + +'But these are old stories, my Basil, and you are young. Tell me +somewhat of your parents, and of your own life. Did not your good +father pass away whilst at Constantinople?' + +Thus, with perfect simplicity, with kindliest interest in things +human, did Benedict draw the young man into converse. He put no +question that touched on the inner life, and Basil uttered not a +word concerning his late distress, but they touched for a moment +upon public affairs, and Basil learnt, without show of special +interest, that Totila still lingered in Campania. + +'Your follower, Deodatus,' said the abbot presently, 'begs each day +for permission to see you. The good fellow has not lived in +idleness; he is a brave worker in wood, and by chance we much needed +one of his craft. Not many things of this world give me more +pleasure than to watch a cunning craftsman as he smooths timber, and +fits the pieces together, and makes of them something that shall +serve the needs of men. Is it not, in some sort, to imitate the +great Artificer? Would, O Basil, that our country had more makers +and fewer who live but to destroy.' + +'Would it were so, indeed!' sighed Basil, in a low, fervent voice. + +'But the end is not yet,' pursued Benedict, his eyes gazing straight +before him, as if they beheld the future. 'Men shall pray for peace, +but it will not be granted them, so great are the iniquities of the +world which utters the name of Christ, yet knows Him not.' + +He paused with troubled brow. Then, as if reminding himself that his +hearer had need of more encouraging words, he said cheerfully: + +'To-morrow, perchance, you will have strength to leave your room. +Deodatus shall come to you in the morning. When you can walk so far, +I will pray you to visit me in my tower. You knew not that I inhabit +a tower? Even as the watchman who keeps guard over a city. And,' he +added more gravely, as if to himself rather than to the listener, +'God grant that my watch be found faithful.' + +Thereupon the abbot rose, and gently took his leave; and Basil, +through all the rest of the day, thought of him and of every word he +had uttered. + +Not long after sunrise on the morrow, Deodatus was allowed to enter. +This man, whose age was something more than thirty, was the son of a +serf on Basil's land, and being of very peaceful disposition, had +with some reluctance answered the summons to arm himself and follow +his lord to the wars. Life in the monastery thoroughly suited his +temper; when Basil encouraged him to talk, he gave a delighted +account of the way in which his days were spent; spoke with simple +joy of the many religious services he attended, and had no words in +which to express his devotion to the abbot. + +'Why, Deodatus,' exclaimed his master, smiling, 'you lack but the +cowl to be a very monk.' + +'My duty is to my lord,' answered the man, bending his head. + +'Tell me now whether any news has reached you, in all this time, of +those from whom my sickness parted us.' + +But Deodatus had heard nothing of his fellows, and nothing of +Venantius. + +'It may be,' said Basil, 'that I shall send you to tell them how I +fare, and to bring back tidings. Your horse is at hand?' + +As he spoke he detected a sadness on the man's countenance. Without +more words, he dismissed him. + +That day he sat in the open air, in a gallery whence he could survey +a great part of the monastic buildings, and much of the mountain +summit on its western side. For an hour he had the companionship of +Marcus, who, pointing to this spot and to that, instructed Basil in +the history of what he saw, now and then reciting his own verses on +the subject. He told how Benedict, seeking with a little company of +pious followers for a retreat from the evil of the world, came to +ruined Casinum, and found its few wretched inhabitants fallen away +from Christ, worshipping the old gods in groves and high places. +Here, on the mountain top, stood temples of Jupiter, of Apollo, and +of Venus. The house of Apollo he purified for Christian service, and +set under the invocation of the Holy Martin. The other temples he +laid low, and having cut down the grove sacred to Apollo, on that +spot he raised an oratory in the name of the Baptist. Not without +much spiritual strife was all this achieved; for--the good Marcus +subdued his voice--Satan himself more than once overthrew what the +monks had built, and, together with the demons whom Benedict had +driven forth, often assailed the holy band with terrors and +torments. Had not the narrator, who gently boasted a part in these +beginnings, been once all but killed by a falling column, which +indeed must have crushed him, but that he stretched out a hand in +which, by happy chance, he was holding a hammer, and this--for a +hammer is cruciform--touching the great pillar, turned its fall in +another direction. Where stood the temple of Venus was now a +vineyard, yielding excellent wine. + +'Whereof, surely, you must not drink?' interposed Basil, with a +smile. + +'Therein, good brother,' replied Marcus, 'you show but little +knowledge of our dear lord abbot. He indeed abstains from wine, for +such has been the habit of his life, but to us he permits it, for +the stomach's sake; being of opinion that labour is a form of +worship, and well understanding that labour, whether of body or of +mind, can only be performed by one in health. This very day you +shall taste of our vintage, which I have hitherto withheld from you, +lest it should overheat your languid blood.' + +Many other questions did Basil ask concerning the rule of the +monastery. He learned that the day was equitably portioned out +(worship apart) between manual and mental work. During summer, the +cooler hours of morning and afternoon were spent in the field, and +the middle of the day in study; winter saw this order reversed. On +Sunday the monks laboured not with their hands, and thought only of +the Word of God. The hours of the divine office suffered, of course, +no change all the year round: their number in the daytime was +dictated by that verse of the Psalmist: 'Septies in die laudem dixi +tibi'; therefore did the community assemble at lauds, at prime, at +the third hour, at mid-day, at the ninth hour, at vespers, and at +compline. They arose, moreover, for prayer at midnight, and for +matins before dawn. On all this the hearer mused when he was left +alone, and with his musing blended a sense of peace such as had +never before entered into his heart. + +He had returned to his chamber, and was reposing on the bed, when +there entered one of the two monks by whom he was conveyed up the +mountain. With happy face, this visitor presented to him a new +volume, which, he declared with modest pride, was from beginning to +end the work of his own hand. + +'But an hour ago I finished the binding,' he added, stroking the +calf-skin affectionately. 'And when I laid it before the venerable +father, who is always indulgent to those who do their best, he was +pleased to speak kind things. "Take it to our noble guest," he said, +"that he may see how we use the hours God grants us. And it may be +that he would like to read therein."' + +The book was a beautiful copy of Augustine's _De Civitate Dei_. +Basil did indeed peruse a page or two, but again his thoughts began +to wander. He turned the leaves, looking with pleasure at the fine +initial letters in red ink. They reminded him of his cousin Decius, +whom a noble manuscript would transport with joy. And thought of +Decius took him back to Surrentum. He fell into a dream. + +On the morrow, at noon, he was well enough to descend to the +refectory, where he had a seat at the abbot's table. His meal +consisted of a roast pigeon, a plate of vegetables, honey and +grapes, with bread which seemed to him better than he had ever +tasted, and wine whereof his still weak head bade him partake very +modestly. The abbot's dinner, he saw, was much simpler: a bowl of +milk, a slice of bread, and a couple of figs. After the kindly +greeting with which he was received, there was no conversation, for +a monk read aloud during the repast. Basil surveyed with interest +the assembly before him. Most of the faces glowed with health, and +on all was manifest a simple contentment such as he had hitherto +seen only in the eyes of children. Representatives were here of +every social rank, but the majority belonged to honourable families: +high intelligence marked many countenances, but not one showed the +shadow of anxious or weary thought. + +These are men, said Basil to himself, who either have never known +the burden of life, or have utterly cast it off; they live without a +care, without a passion. And then there suddenly flashed upon his +mind what seemed an all-sufficient explanation of this calm, this +happiness. Here entered no woman. Woman's existence was forgotten, +alike by young and old; or, if not forgotten, had lost all its +earthly taint, as in the holy affection (of which Marcus had spoken +to him) cherished by the abbot for his pious sister Scholastica. +Here, he clearly saw, was the supreme triumph of the religious life. +But, instead of quieting, the thought disturbed him. He went away +thinking thoughts which he would fain have kept at a distance. + +The ninth hour found him in the oratory, and later he attended +vespers, at which office the monks sang an evening hymn of the holy +Ambrosius:-- + +'O lux, beata Trinitas, et principalis Uuitas, +Jam sol recedit igneus; infunde lumen cordibus. + +Te mane laudum carmine, te deprecemur vesperi, +Te nostra supplex gloria per cuncta laudet saecula.' + +The long sweet notes lingered in Basil's mind when he lay down to +rest. And, as he crossed himself before sleeping, the only prayer he +breathed was: '_Infunde lumen cordi meo_.' + + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +THE ABBOT'S TOWER + + + + +On the morrow he rose earlier, talking the while with his servant +Deodatus. This good fellow continued to exhibit so deep an affection +for the life of the monastery that Basil was at length moved to ask +him whether, if he had the choice, he would veritably become a monk. +Deodatus looked at his master with eyes of pathetic earnestness, +tried in vain to speak, and burst into tears. Instructed by a +vocation so manifest, Basil began to read more clearly in his own +heart, where, in spite of the sorrows he had borne and of the +troublous uncertainties that lay before him, he found no such +readiness to quit the world. He could approve the wisdom of those +who renounced the flesh, to be rewarded with tranquillity on earth +and eternal happiness hereafter; but his will did not ally itself +with his intellect. Moreover, was it certain, he asked himself, that +all who embraced the religious life were so rewarded? In turning the +pages of Augustine's work, he had come upon a passage which arrested +his eye and perturbed his thought, a passage which seemed clearly to +intimate that the soul's eternal destiny had from the beginning of +things been decided by God, some men being created for bliss, more +for damnation. Basil did not dwell profoundly on this doubt; his +nature inclined not at all to theological scrutiny, nor to spiritual +brooding; but it helped to revive in him the energies which sickness +had abated, and to throw him back on that simple faith, that +Christianity of everyday, in which he had grown up. + +Going forth in the mellow sunshine, he turned his steps to a garden +of vegetables where he saw monks at work. They gave him gentle +greeting, and one, he who had brought the volume yesterday, +announced that the abbot invited Basil to visit him after the office +of the third hour. Thereupon all worked in silence, he watching +them. + +When the time came, he was conducted to the abbot's dwelling, which +was the tower beside the ancient gateway of the Arx. It contained +but two rooms, one above the other; below, the founder of the +monastery studied and transacted business; in the upper chamber he +prayed and slept. When, in reply to his knock at the study door, the +voice, now familiar, but for that no less impressive, bade him come +forward, Basil felt his heart beat quickly; and when he stood alone +in that venerable presence, all his new-born self-confidence fell +away from him. Beholding the aged man seated at a table on which lay +books, amid perfect stillness, in the light from a large window; +before him a golden cross, and, on either side of it, a bowl of +sweet-scented flowers; he seemed only now to remember that this was +that Benedict whose fame had gone forth into many lands, whose +holiness already numbered him with the blessed saints rather than +with mortal men, of whom were recounted things miraculous. Looking +upon that face, which time touched only to enhance its calm, only to +make yet purer its sweet humanity, he felt himself an idle and +wanton child, and his entrance hither a profanation. + +'Come and sit by me, son Basil,' said the abbot. 'I am at leisure, +and shall be glad to hear you speak of many things. Tell me first, +do you love reading?' + +Basil answered with simple truth, that of late years he had scarce +read at all, his inclination being rather to the active life. + +'So I should have surmised. But chancing to look from my upper +window not long after sunrise, I saw you walking with a book in your +hand. What was it?' + +Basil murmured that it was the Book of Psalms. + +'Look, then,' said Benedict, 'at what lies before me. Here is a +commentary on that book, written by the learned and pious +Cassiodorus; written in the religious house which he himself has +founded, upon the shore of "ship-wrecking Scylaceum," as saith +Virgilius. Not a week ago it came into my hands, a precious gift +from the writer, and I have read much in it. On the last of his many +journeys, travelling from Ravenna to the south, he climbed hither, +and sojourned with us for certain days, and great was my solace in +the communing we had together. Perchance you knew him in the world?' + +Gladly Basil recounted his memories of the great counsellor. And the +abbot listened with an attentive smile. + +'I marvel not that you loved him. Reading in these pages, I am +delighted by the graces of his mind, and taught by the sanctity of +his spirit. At the very beginning, how sweetly does his voice sound. +Listen. "Trusting in the Lord's command, I knock at the doors of the +heavenly mystery, that He may open to my understanding His flowery +abodes, and that, permitted to enter the celestial garden, I may +pluck spiritual fruit without the sin of the first man. Verily this +book shines like a lamp; it is the salve of a wounded spirit, sweet +as honey to the inner man. So much hath it of beauty for the senses, +such healing in its balmy words, that to it may be applied the words +of Solomon: 'A closed garden, and a fountain sealed, a paradise +abounding in all fruits.' For if Paradise be deemed desirable +because it is watered by the delightful flow of four rivers, how +much more blessed is the mind which is refreshed by the founts of +one hundred and fifty psalms!"' + +Basil scarce heeded the sense of the passage read to him. He could +hear only the soft music of the aged voice, which lulled him into a +calm full of faith and trust. + +'Is not this better,' asked Benedict gently, whilst his eyes +searched the young man's countenance, 'than to live for the service +of kings, and to utter worldly counsel?' + +'Better far, I cannot doubt,' Basil replied with humility. + +'Utter the rest of your thought,' said the abbot, smiling. 'You +cannot doubt--and yet? Utter your mind to me, dear son.' + +'My father, I obey you, desiring indeed with all my soul to seek +your guidance. My heart has been too much in this world, and for one +thought given to things eternal, I have bestowed a hundred upon my +own sorrows, and on those of Italy.' + +His voice faltered, his head drooped. + +'I say not,' murmured the listener, 'that you do wrong to love your +country.' + +'Holy father, I were a hypocrite if I spoke of my country first of +all. For all but a year gone by, another love has possessed me. +Forgive me that I dare to speak such a word before you.' + +The abbot turned his eyes to the window. Upon the sill had settled +two doves, which seemed to regard him curiously. He made a soft +gesture with his hand, and the birds flew away. + +'Speak on,' he said after brief reflection, and with the same +indulgence. 'He who tells all speaks not to man but to God.' + +And Basil told all; told it with humble simplicity, with entire +truthfulness, recounting his history from the day when he first +beheld Veranilda to the dreadful hour when Marcian's blood stained +his hands. He began in calm, but the revival of emotions which had +slept during his sickness and his convalescence soon troubled him +profoundly. Not only did the dormant feelings wake up again, but +things which he had forgotten rushed into his memory. So, when he +came to the last interview with Veranilda, he remembered, for the +first time since that day, what he had said to her, and the +recollection dismayed him. He burst into tears, overwhelmed at once +with misery and shame. + +'It may be,' he sobbed, 'that she was innocent. Suffering had driven +me mad, and I uttered words such as never should have passed my +lips. If she is guiltless, there lives no baser man than I. For I +reproached her--my father, how you will scorn me!--I cast at her +in reproach her father's treachery.' + +The abbot's brow rested upon his hand. It was thus he had listened, +unmoving, throughout the story; nor did he now stir, until Basil, +having ceased alike from speaking and from tears, had sat for a +little while in stillness and reflection. Then at length he turned +his eyes upon the young man, and spoke with sad gravity. + +'Even so, even so. You gave your heart to a woman, and worshipped at +her feet, and behold there has come upon you the guilt of blood. +Not, you would protest, through your own fault; your friend was +false to you, and in just wrath you slew him. Who made you, O Basil, +his judge and his executioner?' + +'Father, I seek not to excuse my sin.' + +'It is well. And what penance will you lay upon yourself?' + +Utterly subdued by awe, oblivious of his own will in the presence of +one so much more powerful, Basil murmured that whatever penance the +man of God saw fit to impose that would he perform. + +'Nay,' said Benedict gently, 'that is too like presumption. Say +rather, you would endeavour to perform it. I will believe that if I +bade you fast long, or repeat many prayers, you would punctually +obey me. But what if I demanded of you that against which not only +your flesh, but all the motive of your life, rebelled? It were not +too much; yet dare you promise to achieve it?' + +Basil looked up fearfully, and answered with tremulous lips: + +'Not in my own strength; but perchance with the help of God.' + +A grave smile passed over Benedict's countenance. + +'It is well, my son; again, it is well. Come now, and let us reason +of this your sin. You avow to me that God and His commands have ever +been little in your mind, whereas you have thought much of this +world and its governance. I might ask you how it is possible to +reflect on the weal and woe of human kind without taking count of +Him who made the world and rules it; but let me approach you with a +narrower inquiry. You tell me that you love your country, and desire +its peace. How comes it, then, that you are numbered with the +violent, the lawless, with those who renounce their citizenship and +dishonour the State? Could not all your worldly meditations preserve +you from so gross an incoherence of thought and action?' + +'Indeed, it should have done.' + +'And would, perchance, had not your spleen overcome your reason. +Why, that is the case, O Basil, of all but every man who this day +calls himself a Roman citizen. Therefore is it that Italy lies under +the wrath of the Most High. Therefore is it that Rome has fallen, +and that the breath of pestilence, the sword of the destroyer, yea, +earthquake and flood and famine, desolate the land. Yet you here +find little time, my son, to meditate the laws of God, being so +busied for the welfare of men. Methinks your story has aimed a +little wide.' + +Basil bent low before this gentle irony, which softened his heart. +The abbot mused a moment, gazing upon the golden cross. + +'In the days of old,' he continued, 'Romans knew how to subdue their +own desires to the good of their country. He who, in self-seeking, +wronged the State, was cast forth from its bosom. Therefore was it +that Rome grew mighty, the Omnipotent fostering her for ends which +the fulness of time should disclose. Such virtue had our ancestors, +even though they worshipped darkly at the altars of daemons. But +from that pride they fell, for their hearts were hardened; and, at +length, when heathendom had wellnigh destroyed the principle whereby +they waxed, God revealed Himself unto His chosen, that ancient +virtue and new faith might restore the world. To turn your thought +upon these things, I sent you the book written long ago by the holy +father Augustine, concerning the Divine State. Have you read in it?' + +'Some little,' answered Basil, 'but with wandering mind.' + +'Therein you will discover, largely expounded, these reasonings I do +but touch upon. I would have you trace God's working in the past, +and, by musing upon what now is, ripen yourself in that citizenship +whereon you have prided yourself, though you neither understood its +true meaning nor had the strength to perform its duties. Losing +sight of the Heavenly City for that which is on earth, not even in +your earthly service were you worthy of the name of Roman; and, +inasmuch as you wronged the earthly Rome, even so did you sin +against that Eternal State of the Supreme Lord whereof by baptism +you were made a citizen. By such as you, O Basil, is the anger of +our God prolonged, and lest you should think that, amid a long and +bloody war, amid the trampling of armies, the fall of cities, one +death more is of no account, I say to you that, in the eyes of the +All-seeing, this deed of yours may be of heavier moment than the +slaughter of a battlefield. From your own lips it is manifest that +you had not even sound assurance of the guilt you professed to +punish. It may be that the man had not wronged you as you supposed. +A little patience, a little of the calm which becomes a reasoning +soul, and you might not only have saved yourself from crime, but +have resolved what must now ever be a doubt to your harassed +thoughts.' + +'Such words did Veranilda herself speak,' exclaimed Basil. 'And I, +in my frenzy, thought them only a lamentation for the death of her +lover.' + +'Call it frenzy; but remember, O my son, that no less a frenzy was +every act of your life, and every thought, which led you on the path +to that ultimate sin. Frenzy it is to live only for the flesh; +frenzy, to imagine that any good can come of aught you purpose +without beseeching the divine guidance.' + +Much else did the abbot utter in this vein of holy admonition. And +Basil would have listened with the acquiescence of a perfect faith, +but that there stirred within. him the memory of what he had read in +Augustine's pages, darkening his spirit. At length he found courage +to speak of this, and asked in trembling tones: + +'Am I one of those born to sin and to condemnation? Am I of those +unhappy beings who strive in vain against a doom predetermined by +the Almighty?' + +Benedict's countenance fell; not as if in admission of a dread +possibility, but rather as in painful surprise. + +'You ask me,' he answered solemnly, after a pause, 'what no man +should ask even when he communes with his own soul in the stillness +of night. The Gospel is preached to all; nowhere in the word of God +are any forbidden to hear it, or, hearing, to accept its solace. +Think not upon that dark mystery, which even to the understandings +God has most enlightened shows but as a formless dread. The sinner +shall not brood upon his sin, save to abhor it. Shall he who repents +darken repentance with a questioning of God's mercy? Then indeed +were there no such thing as turning from wrong to righteousness.' + +'When I sent you that book,' he resumed, after observing the relief +that came to Basil's face, 'I had in mind only its salutary teaching +for such as live too much in man's world, and especially for those +who, priding themselves upon the name of Roman, are little given to +reflection upon all the evil Rome has wrought. Had I known what lay +upon your conscience, I should have withheld from you everything but +Holy Writ.' + +'My man, Deodatus, had not spoken?' asked Basil. + +'Concerning you, not a word. I did not permit him to be questioned, +and his talk has been only of his own sins.' + +Basil wondered at this discretion in a simple rustic; yet, on a +second thought, found it consistent with the character of Deodatus, +as lately revealed to him. + +'He has been long your faithful attendant?' inquired the abbot. + +'Not so. Only by chance was he chosen from my horsemen to accompany +me hither. My own servant, Felix, being wounded, lay behind at +Aesernia.' + +'If he be as honest and God-fearing as this man,' said Benedict, +'whose name, indeed, seems well to become him, then are you +fortunate in those who tend upon you. But of this and other such +things we will converse hereafter. Listen now, son Basil, to my +bidding. You have abstained from the Table of the Lord, and it is +well. Today, and every day until I again summon you, you will read +aloud in privacy the Seven Penitential Psalms, slowly and with +meditation; and may they grave themselves in your heart, to remain +there, a purification and a hope, whilst you live.' + +Basil bowed his head, and whispered obedience. + +'Moreover, so far as your strength will suffer it, you shall go +daily into the garden or the field, and there work with the +brethren. Alike for soul and for body it is good to labour under +God's sky, and above all to till God's earth and make it fruitful. +For though upon Adam, in whom we all died, was laid as a punishment +that he should eat only that which he had planted in the sweat of +his brow, yet mark, O Basil, that the Creator inflicts no earthly +punishment which does not in the end bear fruit of healing and of +gladness. What perfume is so sweet as that of the new-turned soil? +And what so profitable to health? When the Romans of old time began +to fall from virtue--such virtue as was permitted to those who +knew not God--the first sign of their evil state was the forgotten +plough. And never again can Italy be blessed--if it he the will of +the Almighty that peace be granted her--until valley and mountain +side and many-watered plain are rich with her children's labour. I +do not bid you live in silence, for silence is not always a good +counsellor; but refrain from merely idle speech, and strive, O +Basil, strive with all the force that is in you, that your thoughts +be turned upward. Go now, my son. It shall not be long before I +again call you to my tower.' + +So, with a look of kindness which did not soften to a smile, +Benedict dismissed his penitent. When the door had closed, he sat +for a few minutes with head bent, then roused himself, glanced at +the clepsydra which stood in a corner of the room, and turned a page +or two of the volume lying before him. Presently his attention was +caught by the sound of fluttering wings; on the window sill had +again alighted the two doves, and again they seemed to regard him +curiously. The aged face brightened with tenderness. + +'Welcome,' he murmured, 'ye whose love is innocent.' + +From a little bag that lay on the table he drew grains, and +scattered them on the floor. The doves flew down and ate, and, as he +watched them, Benedict seemed to forget all the sorrows of the +world. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +VIVAS IN DEO + + + + +The telling of his story was to Basil like waking from a state of +imperfect consciousness in which dream and reality had +indistinguishably mingled. Since the fight with the brigands he had +never been himself; the fever in his blood made him incapable of +wonted thought or action; restored to health, he looked back upon +those days with such an alien sense that he could scarce believe he +had done the things he related. Only now did their move in him a +natural horror when he thought of the death of Marcian, a natural +distress when he remembered his bearing to Veranilda. Only now could +he see in the light of reason all that had happened between his talk +with Sagaris at Aesernia and his riding away with Venantius from the +villa on the island. As he unfolded the story, he marvelled at +himself, and was overcome with woe. + +There needed not the words of the holy abbot to show him how blindly +he had acted. He could see now that, however it might appear, the +guilt of Marcian was quite unproved. The Syrian slave might have +lied, or else have uttered a mistaken suspicion. It might be true +that Marcian had been misled by some calumniator into thinking evil +of his friend. And had he not heard the declaration of Veranilda, +that she had suffered no wrong at his hands? Basil saw the face of +his beloved. Only a man possessed by the Evil Spirit could have +answered her as he had done. Was not the fact that Marcian had +brought Veranilda to his villa in order to give her into the hands +of Totila sufficient proof that he had neither wronged her nor +meditated wrong? Ay, but Basil reminded himself that he had accused +Veranilda of amorous complicity with Marcian. And at this +recollection his brain whirled. + +Even were it permitted him ever to behold her again, how could he +stand before her? Must she not abhor him, as one whose baseness +surpassed all she had thought possible in the vilest slave? Jealousy +was pardonable; in its rage, a man might slay and be forgiven. But +for the reproach with which he had smitten her--her, pure and +innocent--there could be no forgiveness. It was an act of infamy, +branding him for ever. + +Thoughts such as these intermingled with his reading of the Psalms +of penitence. Ever and again grief overwhelmed him, and he wept +bitterly. At the hour of the evening meal, he would willingly have +remained in his cell, to fast and mourn alone; but this, he felt, +would have been to shirk part of his penance; for, though the +brothers knew not of his sin, he could not meet their eyes for +shame, and such humiliation must needs be salutary. This evening +other guests sat at the abbot's table, and he shrank from their +notice, for though they were but men of humble estate, pilgrims from +Lucania, he felt debased before them. The reading, to which all +listened during their meal, was selected from that new volume of +Cassiodorus so esteemed by the abbot; it closed with a prayer in +which Basil found the very utterance his soul needed. + +'O Lord, our Teacher and Guide, our Advocate and Judge, Thou the +Bestower and the Admonitor, terrible and clement, Rebuker and +Consoler, who givest sight to the blind, who makest possible to the +weak that which Thou commandest, who art so good that Thou desirest +to be for ever petitioned, so merciful that Thou sufferest no one to +despair; grant us that which we ask with Thy approval, and yet more +that which in our ignorance we fail to beseech. How weak we are, +Thou indeed knowest; by what a foe we are beset, Thou art aware. In +the unequal contest, in our mortal infirmity, we turn to Thee, for +it is the glory of Thy Majesty when the meek sheep overcomes the +roaring lion, when the Evil Spirit is repulsed by feeble flesh. +Grant that our enemy, who rejoices in our offending, may be saddened +by the sight of human happiness. Amen.' + +He rose, for the first time, to attend the midnight office, +Deodatus, who was punctual as a monk at all the hours, awaking him +from sleep. But Marcus whispered an admonishing word. + +'I praise your zeal, good brother; nevertheless, as your physician, +I cannot suffer your night's rest to be broken. Descend for lauds, +if you will, but not earlier.' + +Basil bowed in obedience. Lauds again saw him at prayer. Hitherto, +when they were together in the oratory, it had been the habit of +Deodatus to kneel behind his master; this morning Basil placed +himself by his servant's side. They walked away together in the +pearly light of dawn, and Basil led the way to a sequestered spot, +whence there was a view over the broad valley of the Liris. Several +times of late he had come here, to gaze across the mountainous +landscape, wondering where Veranilda might be. Turning to his +companion, he laid a hand on the man's shoulder, and addressed him +in a voice of much gentleness. + +'Did you leave nothing behind you, Deodatus, which would make the +thought of never returning to your home a sorrow?' + +'Nothing, my dear lord,' was the reply. 'In my lifetime I have seen +much grief and little solace. All I loved are dead.' + +'But you are young. Could you without a pang say farewell to the +world?' + +Deodatus answered timidly: + +'Here is peace.' + +Continuing to question, Basil learnt that for this man the life of +the world was a weariness and a dread. Hardships of many kinds had +oppressed him from childhood; his was a meek soul, which had no +place amid the rudeness and violence of the times; from the first +hour, the cloistered life had cast a spell upon him. + +'Here is peace,' he repeated. 'Here one can forget everything but to +worship God. Could I remain here, I were the happiest of men.' + +And Basil mused, understanding, approving, yet unable to utter the +same words for himself. His eyes strayed towards the far valley, +shimmering in earliest daylight. He, too, had he not suffered dread +things whilst living in the world? And could he expect that life in +the future would be more kindly to him? None the less did his heart +yearn for that valley of human tribulation. He struggled to subdue +it. + +'Deodatus, pray for me, that I may have strength to do that which I +see to be the best.' + +It was no forced humility. Very beautiful in Basil's eyes showed the +piety and calm which here surrounded him, and his reverence for the +founder of this house of peace fell little short of that with which +he regarded the Saints in heaven. Never before--unless it were at +certain moments when conversing with the Lady Silvia--had he felt +the loveliness of a life in which religion was supreme; and never, +assuredly, had there stirred within him a spirit so devout. He +longed to attain unto righteousness, that entire purity of will, +which, it now seemed to him, could be enjoyed only in monastic +seclusion. All his life he had heard praise of those who renounced +the world; but their merit had been to him a far-off, uncomprehended +thing, without relation to himself. Now he understood. A man, a +sinner, it behoved him before all else to chasten his soul that he +might be pleasing unto God; and behold the way! For one who had +sinned so grievously, it might well be that there was no other path +of salvation. + +This morning he went forth with the monks to labour. Brother Marcus +conducted him to a plot of garden ground where there was light work +to be done, and there left him. Willingly did Basil set about this +task, which broke the monotony of the day, and, more than that, was +in itself agreeable to him. He had always found pleasure in the +rustic life, and of late, at his Asculan villa, had often wished he +could abide in quiet for the rest of his days amid the fields and +the vineyards. Working in the mellow sunlight, above him the soft +blue sky of early autumn, and all around the silence of mountain and +of forest, he felt his health renew itself. When the first drops of +sweat stood upon his forehead he wiped them away with earthy +fingers, and the mere action--he knew not why--gave him +pleasure. + +But of a sudden he became aware that he had lost something. From the +little finger of his left hand had slipped his signet ring. It must +have fallen since he began working, and anxiously he searched for it +about the ground. Whilst he was thus occupied, Marcus came towards +him, carrying a great basket of vegetables. Not without diffidence, +Basil told what had happened. + +'You will rebuke me, holy brother, for heeding such a loss. But the +ring is very old; it has been worn by many of my ancestors, to them +it came, and from one who suffered martyrdom in the times of +Diocletian.' + +'Then, indeed, I did well,' replied Marcus, 'to leave it on your +finger during your sickness. I looked at it and saw that it was a +Christian seal. Had it been one of those which are yet seen too +often, with the stamp of a daemon, I should have plucked it off, and +perhaps have destroyed it. The ring of a blessed martyr I Let us +seek, let us seek! But, brother Basil,' he added gravely, 'has there +passed through your heart no evil thought? I like not this falling +of the ring.' + +Basil held up his wasted hand with a smile. + +'True, true; you have lost flesh. Be thankful for it, dear brother; +so much the easier you combat with him whose ally is this body of +death. True, the ring may have fallen simply because your finger was +so thin. But be warned, O Basil, against that habit of mind which +interprets in an earthly sense things of divine meaning.' + +'I had indeed let my thoughts dwell upon worldliness,' Basil +admitted. + +The monk smiled a satisfied reproof. + +'Even so, even so! And look you! In the moment of your avowal my +hand falls upon the ring.' + +Rejoicing together, they inspected it. In the gold was set an onyx, +graven with the monogram of Christ, a wreath, and the motto, 'Vivas +in Deo.' Marcus knelt, and pressed the seal to his forehead, +murmuring ecstatically: + +'The ring of a blessed martyr!' + +'I am all unworthy to wear it,' said Basil, sincerely hesitating to +replace it on his finger. 'Indeed, I will not do so until I have +spoken with the holy father.' + +This resolve Marcus commended, and, with a kindly word, he went his +way. Basil worked on. To discipline his thoughts he kept murmuring, +'Vivas in Deo,' and reflecting upon the significance of the words; +for, often as he had seen them, he had never till now mused upon +their meaning. What was the life in God I Did it mean that of the +world to come? Ay, but how attain unto eternal blessedness save by +striving to anticipate on earth that perfection of hereafter? And so +was he brought again to the conclusion that, would he assure life +eternal, he must renounce all that lured him in mortality. + +The brothers returning from the field at the third hour signalled to +him that for to-day he had worked enough. One of them, in passing, +gave him a smile, and said good-naturedly: + +'Thou shalt eat the labour of thine hands; happy shalt thou be, and +it shall be well with thee.' + +Weary, but with the sense of healthful fatigue, Basil rested for an +hour on his bed. He then took the Psalter and opened it at hazard, +and the first words his eyes fell upon were: + +'Thou shalt eat the labour of thine hands; happy shalt thou be, and +it shall be well with thee.' + +'A happy omen,' he thought. But stay; what was this that followed? + +'Thy wife shall be as a fruitful vine by the sides of thine house; +thy children like olive plants round about thy table. + +'Behold, thus shall the man be blessed that feareth the Lord.' + +The blood rushed into his cheeks. He sat staring at the open page as +though in astonishment. He read and re-read the short psalm of which +these verses were part, and if a voice had spoken it to him from +above he could scarce have felt more moved by the message. Basil had +never been studious of the Scriptures, and, if ever he had known +that they contained such matter as this, it had quite faded from his +memory. He thought of the Holy Book as hostile to every form of +earthly happiness, its promises only for those who lived to mortify +their natural desires. Yet here was the very word of God encouraging +him in his heart's hope. Were not men wont to use the Bible as their +oracle, opening the pages at hazard, even as he had done? + +It was long before he could subdue his emotions so as to turn to the +reading imposed upon him. He brought himself at length into the +fitting mind by remembering that this wondrous promise was not for a +sinner, a murderer; and that only could he hope to merit such +blessing if he had truly repented, and won forgiveness. Stricken +down by this reflection he grew once more humble and sad. + +In the afternoon, as he was pacing alone in a little portico near +the abbot's tower, the prior approached him. This reverend man had +hitherto paid little or no attention to Basil. He walked ever with +eyes cast down as if in deep musing, yet it was well known that he +observed keenly, and that his duties to the community were +discharged with admirable zeal and competence. In the world he would +have been a great administrator. In the monastery he seemed to find +ample scope for his powers, and never varied from the character of a +man who set piety and learning above all else. Drawing nigh to Basil +he greeted him gently, and asked whether it would give him pleasure +to see the copyists at work. Basil gladly accepted this invitation, +and was conducted to a long, well-lit room, where, at great desks, +sat some five or six of the brothers, each bent over a parchment +which would some day form portion of a volume, writing with slow +care, with the zeal of devotees and with the joy of artists. Not a +whisper broke upon the silence in which the pen-strokes alone were +audible. Stepping softly, the prior led his companion from desk to +desk, drawing attention, without a word, to the nature of the book +which in each case was being copied. It surprised Basil to see that +the monks busied themselves in reproducing not only religious works +but also the writings of authors who had lived in pagan times, and +of this he spoke when the prior had led him forth again. + +'Have you then been taught,' asked the prior, 'that it is sinful to +read Virgil and Statius, Livy and Cicero?' + +'Not so, reverend father,' he replied modestly, his eyes falling +before the good-humoured gaze. 'But I was so ill instructed as to +think that to those who had withdrawn from the world it might not be +permitted.' + +'Father Hieronymus had no such misgiving,' said the prior, 'for he +himself, at Bethlehem, taught children to read the ancient poets; +not unmindful that the blessed Paul himself, in those writings which +are the food of our spirit, takes occasion to cite from more than +one poet who knew not Christ. If you would urge the impurity and +idolatry which deface so many pages of the ancients, let me answer +you in full with a brief passage of the holy Augustine. "For," says +he, "as the Egyptians had not only idols to be detested by +Israelites, but also precious ornaments of gold and silver, to be +carried off by them in flight, so the science of the Gentiles is not +only composed of superstitions to be abhorred, but of liberal arts +to be used in the service of truth."' + +They walked a short distance without further speech, then the prior +stopped. + +'Many there are,' he said, with a gesture indicating the world +below, 'who think that we flee the common life only for our souls' +salvation. So, indeed, it has been in former times, and God forbid +that we should speak otherwise than with reverence of those who +abandoned all and betook themselves to the desert that they might +live in purity and holiness. But to us, by the grace bestowed upon +our holy father, has another guidance been shown. Know, my son, +that, in an evil time, we seek humbly to keep clear, not for +ourselves only, but for all men, the paths of righteousness and of +understanding. With heaven's blessing we strive to preserve what +else might utterly perish, to become not only guardians of God's law +but of man's learning.' + +Therewith did the prior take his leave, and Basil pondered much on +what he had heard. It was a new light to him, for, as his instructor +suspected, he shared the common view of coenobite aims, and still +but imperfectly understood the law of Benedict. All at once the life +of this cloister appeared before him in a wider and nobler aspect. +In the silent monks bent over their desks he saw much more than +piety and learning. They rose to a dignity surpassing that of consul +or praefect. With their pens they warred against the powers of +darkness, a grander conflict than any in which men drew sword. He +wished he could talk of this with his cousin Decius, for Decius knew +so much more than he, and could look so much deeper into the sense +of things. + +Days passed. Not yet did he receive a summons to the abbot's tower. +Rapidly recovering strength, he worked long in the fields, and +scrupulously performed his penitential exercises. Only, when he had +finished his daily reading of the appointed psalms, he turned to +that which begins: 'Blessed is every one that feareth the Lord, that +walketh in His ways.' How could he err in dwelling upon the word of +God? One day, as he closed the book, his heart was so full of a +strange, half-hopeful, half-fearful longing, that it overflowed in +tears; and amid his weeping came a memory of Marcian, a tender +memory of the days of their friendship: for the first time he +bewailed the dead man as one whom he had dearly loved. + +Then there sounded a knock at the door of his cell. Commanding +himself, and turning away so as to hide his face, he bade enter. + +And, looking up, he beheld his servant Felix. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +THE KING OF THE GOTHS + + + + +Transported from grief to joy, Basil sprang forward and clasped +Felix in his arms. + +'God be thanked,' he exclaimed, 'that I see you alive and well! +Whence come you? What is your news?' + +With his wonted grave simplicity, Felix told that he had long since +recovered from the effects of the wound, but had remained at +Aesernia, unable to obtain permission to go in search of his master. +The Gothic army was now advancing along the Via Latina; Basil's +followers were united with the troop under Venantius; and on their +arrival at Casinum, Felix succeeded in getting leave to climb to the +monastery. He had been assured that his lord had recovered health, +and was still sojourning with the holy men; but by whom this news +had been brought he could not say. Doubtless Venantius had held +communication with the monastery. + +'And you are here alone?' asked Basil, fearing still to utter the +question which was foremost in his mind. + +'Alone of my lord's men. I followed those that came with the king.' + +'The king? Totila is here?' + +'It was rumoured,' replied Felix, in a reverent voice, 'that he +desired to speak of deep matters with the holy Benedict. They are +even now conversing.' + +Basil fell into a great agitation. Absorbed in his private griefs, +and in thoughts of eternity, he had all but forgotten the purpose +with which he crossed the Apennines at the summons of Marcian. The +name of Totila revived his interest in the progress of the war, but +at the same time struck his heart with a chill misgiving. With what +eyes would the king regard Marcian's slayer? Was he more likely to +pardon the deed if he knew (as assuredly he must) that it was done +in jealous love of Veranilda? The words he had not dared to speak +leapt to his lips. + +'Felix, know you anything of the Gothic lady--of her whom we +lost?' + +'The lord Venantius brought her to Aesernia,' was the grave reply, +'and she is now among the wives and daughters of the Gothic lords +who move with the army.' + +Answering other questions, Felix said that he had not seen +Veranilda, and that he knew nothing of her save what he had heard +from those of Basil's men who had been at the island villa, and, +subsequently, from the gossip of the camp. A story had got abroad +that Veranilda was the lost princess of the Amal line surviving in +Italy, and it was commonly thought among the Goths that their king +intended to espouse her--the marriage to be celebrated in Rome, +when Rome once more acknowledged the Gothic ruler. This did Felix +report unwillingly, and only because his master insisted upon +knowing all. + +'Very like it is true,' commented Basil, forcing a smile. 'You know, +my good Felix, that the Emperor would fain have had her adorn his +court; and I would rather see her Queen of Italy. But tell me now, +last of all, what talk there has been of me. Or has my name been +happily forgotten?' + +'My dear lord's followers,' replied Felix, 'have not ceased to speak +of him among themselves, and to pray for his safety.' + +'That I gladly believe. But I see there is more to tell. Out with it +all, good fellow. I have suffered worse things than any that can +lie. before me.' + +In sad obedience, the servant made known that he and his fellows had +been closely questioned, first by Venantius, later, some two or +three of them, by the king himself, regarding their master's course +of life since he went into Picenum. They had told the truth, happy +in that they could do so without fear and without shame. + +'And how did the king bear himself to you?' asked Basil eagerly. + +'With that nobleness which became him,' was the fervid answer. 'It +is said among the Goths that only a lie or an act of cowardice can +move Totila to wrath against one who is in his power; and after +speaking face to face with him, I well believe it. He questioned me +in few words, but not as a tyrant; and when I had replied as best I +could, he dismissed me with a smile.' + +Basil's head drooped. + +'Yes, Totila is noble,' fell softly from him. 'Let be what will be. +He is worthier than I.' + +A knock sounded again at the door of the cell, and there entered +Marcus. His keen and kindly face betrayed perturbation of spirit, +and after looking from Basil to the new comer and then at Basil +again, he said in a nervous voice: + +'The lord abbot bids you repair at once, my brother, to the prior's +room.' + +'I go,' was the prompt reply. + +As they left the room, Marcus caught Basil's arm and whispered: + +'It is the King of the Goths who awaits you. But have courage, dear +brother; his face is mild. Despite his error, he has borne himself +reverently to our holy father.' + +'Know you what has passed between them?' asked Basil, also in a +whisper. + +'That none may know. But when Totila came forth from the tower, he +had the face of one who has heard strange things. Who can say what +the Almighty purposes by the power of his servant Benedict? Not +unguided, surely, did the feet of the misbelieving warrior turn to +climb this mount.' + +Leaving the poet monk to nurse his hopes, Basil betook himself with +rapid steps to the prior's room. At the door stood three armed men; +two had the long flaxen hair which proclaimed them Goths, the third +was Venantius. A look of friendly recognition was all that passed +between Basil and his countryman, who straightway admitted him to +the room, announced his name, and retired. Alone--his attitude +that of one who muses--sat the Gothic King. He was bareheaded and +wore neither armour nor weapon; his apparel a purple tunic, with a +loose, gold-broidered belt, and a white mantle purple seamed. Youth +shone in his ruddy countenance, and the vigour of perfect manhood +graced his frame. The locks that fell to his shoulders had a darker +hue than that common in the Gothic race, being a deep burnished +chestnut; but upon his lips and chin the hair gleamed like pale +gold. Across his forehead, from temple to temple, ran one deep +furrow, and this, together with a slight droop of the eyelids, +touched his visage with a cast of melancholy, whereby, perhaps, the +comely features became more royal. + +Upon Basil, who paused at a respectful distance, he fixed a gaze of +meditative intentness, and gazed so long in silence that the Roman +could not but at length lift his eyes. Meeting the glance with grave +good nature, Totila spoke firmly and frankly. + +'Lord Basil, they tell me that you crossed Italy to draw your sword +in my cause. Is this the truth?' + +'It is the truth, O king.' + +'How comes it then that you are laden with the death of one who had +long proved himself my faithful servant, one who, when you +encountered him, was bound on a mission of great moment?' + +'He whom I slew,' answered Basil, 'was the man whom of all men I +most loved. I thought him false to me, and struck in a moment of +madness.' + +'Then you have since learnt that you were deceived?' + +Basil paused a moment. + +'Gracious lord, that I accused him falsely, I no longer doubt, +having had time to reflect upon many things, and to repent of my +evil haste. But I am still ignorant of the cause which led him to +think ill of me, and so to speak and act in a way which could not +but make my heart burn against him.' + +'Something of this too I have heard,' said the king, his blue eyes +resting upon Basil's countenance with a thoughtful interest. 'You +believe, then, that your friend was wholly blameless towards you, in +intention and in act?' + +'Save inasmuch as credited that strange slander, borne I know not +upon what lips.' + +'May I hear,' asked Totila, 'what this slander charged upon you?' + +Basil raised his head, and put all his courage into a brief reply. + +'That I sought to betray the lady Veranilda into the hands of the +Greeks.' + +'And you think,' said the king slowly, meditatively, his eyes still +searching Basil's face, 'that your friend could believe you capable +of that?' + +'How he could, I know not,' came the sad reply. 'Yet I must needs +think it was so.' + +'Why?' sounded from the king's lips abruptly, and with a change to +unexpected sternness. 'What forbids you the more natural thought +that this man, this Marcian, was himself your slanderer?' + +'Thinking so, O king, I slew him. Thinking so, I defiled my tongue +with base suspicion of Veranilda. Being now again in my right mind, +I know that my accusation of _her_ was frenzy, and therefore I +choose rather to believe that I wronged Marcian than that he could +conceive so base a treachery.' + +Totila reflected. All but a smile as of satisfaction lurked within +his eyes. + +'Know you,' he next inquired, 'by what means Marcian obtained charge +of the lady Veranilda?' + +'Of that I am as ignorant as of how she was first carried into +captivity.' + +'Yet,' said the king sharply, 'you conversed with her after +Marcian's death.' + +'Gracious lord,' answered Basil in low tones, 'it were miscalled +conversing. With blood upon my hands, I said I scarce knew what, and +would not give ear to the words which should have filled me with +remorse.' + +There was again a brief silence. Totila let his eyes stray for a +moment, then spoke again meditatively. + +'You sought vainly for this maiden, whilst she was kept in ward. +Being your friend, did not Marcian lend his aid to discover her for +you?' + +'He did so, but fruitlessly. And when at length he found her, his +mind to me had changed.' + +'Strangely, it must be confessed,' said the king. His eyes were +again fixed upon Basil with a look of pleasant interest. 'Some day, +perchance, you may learn how that came about; meanwhile, you do well +to think good rather than evil. In truth, it would be difficult to +do otherwise in this dwelling of piety and peace. Is there imposed +upon you some term of penance? I scarce think you have it in mind to +turn monk?' + +The last words, though not irreverently uttered, marked a change in +Totila's demeanour. He seemed to lay aside an unwonted gravity, to +become the ruler of men, the warrior, the conqueror. His forehead +lost its long wrinkle, as, with eyebrows bent and lips compressed +into a rallying half smile, he seemed to challenge all the manhood +in him he addressed. + +'For that,' Basil replied frankly, 'I lack the calling.' + +'Well said. And how tends your inclination as regards the things of +this world? Has it changed in aught since you came hither?' + +'In nothing, O king,' was the firm response 'I honour the Goth, even +as I love my country.' + +'Spoken like a man. But I hear that you have passed through a long +sickness, and your cheek yet lacks something of its native hue. It +might be well if you took your ease yet a little with these good +bedesmen.' + +'It is true that I have not yet all my strength,' answered Basil. +'Moreover,' he added, lowering his voice, 'I would fain lighten my +soul of the sin that burdens it. It may be that, ere long, the holy +father will grant me absolution.' + +Totila nodded with a grave smile. + +'Be it so. When you are sound in flesh and spirit, follow me +northward. I shall then have more to say to you.' + +The look accompanying these words lent them a significance which put +confusion into Basil's mind. He saw the courteous gesture wherewith +the king dismissed him; he bowed and withdrew; but when he had left +the room he stood as one bewildered, aware of nothing, his eyes +turned vacantly upon some one who addressed him. Presently he found +himself walking apart with Venantius, who spoke to him of public +affairs, apprised him of the course of the war during these past +weeks, and uttered the hope that before the end of the year the +liberators would enter Rome. It was true that the Emperor had at +length charged Belisarius with the task of reconquering Italy, but +months must pass before an army could be assembled and transported; +by the latest news the great commander was in Illyria, striving to +make a force out of fresh-recruited barbarians, and lamenting the +avarice of Justinian which grudged him needful supplies. And as he +listened to all this, Basil felt a new ardour glow within him. He +had ever worshipped the man of heroic virtues; once upon a time it +was Belisarius who fired his zeal; now his eyes dazzled with the +glory of Totila; he burned to devote a loyal service to this brave +and noble king. + +Suddenly there sounded a trumpet. Its note broke strangely upon the +monastic stillness, and, in a moment, echoed clear from the +mountains. + +'The king goes forth,' said Venantius. 'I must leave you. Join us +speedily yonder.' + +He pointed towards Rome. On Basil's lips quivered a word, a +question, but before it could be uttered the soldier had stridden +away, his casque gleaming in the sun, and his sword clanking beside +him. + +Again with mind confused, Basil went to his cell, and sat there head +on hand, trying to recover the mood, the thoughts, with which he had +risen this morning. But everything was changed. He could no longer +think of the past; the future called to him, and its voice was like +that of the Gothic trumpet, stirring his blood, urging him to +activity. At midday some one knocked, and there entered Deodatus. + +'Where is Felix?' was Basil's first question. + +Felix was gone, but only to the town at the foot of the mountain, +where he and two of his fellows would abide until their master left +the monastery. With this message Deodatus had been charged by +Venantius. He added that Felix had been dismissed, at the abbot's +order, during Basil's interview with the king. + +'I understand,' said Basil in himself; and during the rest of the +day he strove with all the force of his will to recover calm and +pious thoughts. In the night that followed he slept little; it was +now the image of Veranilda that hovered before him and kept him +wakeful, perturbed with a tender longing. God, it might be, would +pardon him his offence against the Divine law; but could he look for +forgiveness from Veranilda? When he thought of the king's last words +he was lured with hope; when he reasoned upon this hope, it turned +to a mocking emptiness. And through the next day, and the next +again, his struggle still went on. He worked and prayed as usual, +and read the Psalms of penitence not once only, but several times in +the four-and-twenty hours; that other psalm, to which he had turned +for strengthening of the spirit, he no longer dared to open. And all +this time he scarce spoke with any one; not that the brethren looked +upon him with less kindness, or held him at a distance, but the +rebuke of his own conscience kept him mute. He felt that his +communion with these holy men was in seeming only, and it shamed him +to contrast their quiet service of the Eternal with the turbid +worldliness of his own thoughts. + +During these days the abbot was not seen. Venturing, at length, when +he happened to find himself alone with Marcus, to speak of this, he +learnt that the holy father was not in his wonted health; Marcus +added that the disorder had resulted from the visit of the king. +After Totila's departure, Benedict had passed hours in solitary +prayer, until a faintness came upon him, from which he could not yet +recover. Basil was turning away sadly, when the monk touched his +arm, and said in a troubled voice: + +'Many times he has spoken of you, dear brother.' + +'Would,' replied Basil, 'that I were worthy of his thoughts.' + +'Did he think you unworthy,' said Marcus, 'he would not grieve that +you must so soon go from among us.' + +'The holy father has said that I must soon leave you?' + +Marcus nodded gravely, and walked away. + +Another week passed. By stern self-discipline, Basil had fixed his +thoughts once more on things spiritual, and the result appeared in a +quiet contentment. He waited upon the will of Benedict, which he had +come to regard as one with the will of God. And at length the +expected summons came. It was on the evening of Saturday, after +vespers; the abbot had been present at the office, and, as he went +forth from the oratory, he bade Basil follow him. They entered the +tower, and Benedict, who walked feebly, sat for some moments silent +in his chair, as if he had need of repose before the effort of +speaking. Through the window streamed a warm light, illumining the +aged face turned thither with eyes which dreamt upon the vanishing +day. + +'So you are no longer impatient to be gone?' were the abbot's first +words, spoken in a voice which had not lost its music, though +weakness made it low. + +'My father,' answered Basil, 'I have striven with myself and God has +helped me.' + +He knew that it was needless to say more. The eyes bent upon him +read all his thoughts; the confessions, the pleadings, he might have +uttered, all lay open before that calm intelligence.' + +'It is true, dear son,' said Benedict, 'that you have fought +bravely, and your countenance declares that, in some measure, +victory has been granted you. That it is not the complete victory of +those who put the world for ever beneath their feet, shall not move +me to murmur. The Lord of the vineyard biddeth whom He will; not all +are called to the same labour; it may be--for in this matter I see +but darkly--it may be that the earthly strife to which your heart +impels you shall serve the glory of the Highest. As indeed doth +every act of man, for how can it be otherwise? But I speak of the +thought, the purpose, whereby 'in the end of all things, all must be +judged.' + +Basil heard these sentences with a deep joy. There was silence, and +when the aged voice again spoke, it was in a tone yet more solemn. +Benedict had risen. + +'Answer me, my son, and speak as in the presence of God, whom I +humbly serve. Do you truly repent of the sin whereof you made +confession to me?' + +Kneeling, Basil declared his penitence. Thereupon, Benedict, looking +upwards, opened his lips in prayer. + +'Receive, O Lord, our humble supplications, and to me, who above all +have need of Thy compassion, graciously give ear. Spare Thou this +penitent, that, by Thy mercy, he may escape condemnation in the +judgment to come. Let him not know the dread of darkness, nor the +pang of fire. Having turned from his way of error into the path of +righteousness, be he not again stricken with the wounds of sin, but +grant Thou that there abide with him for ever that soul's health +which Thy grace hath bestowed and Thy mercy hath established.' + +As he listened, Basil's eyes filled with tears, and when bidden to +rise he felt as one who has thrown off a burden; rejoicing in his +recovered strength of body and soul, he gazed into that venerable +face with gratitude too great for words. + +'Remember now thy Creator in the days of thy youth.' It was with a +parent's tenderness that Benedict now spoke. 'I am old, O Basil, and +have but a few more steps to take upon this earth. Looking upon me, +you see long promise of life before you. And yet--' + +The soft accents were suspended. For a moment Benedict gazed as +though into the future; then, with a wave of his hand, passed to +another thought. + +'To-morrow you will join with us in the Holy Communion. You will +pass the day in sober joy among the brethren, not one of whom but +shares your gladness and desires your welfare. And at sunrise on the +day after, you will go forth from our gates. Whether to return, I +know not; be that with the Ruler of All. If again you climb this +mount, I shall not be here to bid you welcome. Pray humbly, even as +I do, that we may meet in the life eternal.' + +After Mass on the morrow, when he had joyfully partaken of the +Eucharist, Basil was bidden to the priest's room. This time it was +the prior himself who received him, and with an address which +indicated the change in the position of the penitent, now become an +ordinary guest. + +'Lord Basil, your follower, Deodatus, is minded to fulfil the +prophecy of his name, and tells me that it would be with your good +will. Are you content to deprive yourself of his service, that he +may continue to abide with us, and after due preparation, take the +vows of our community?' + +'Content,' was the reply, 'and more than content. If ever man seemed +born for the holy life, it is he. I entreat you, reverend father, to +favour his desire.' + +'Be it so. I have spoken of this matter with the lord abbot, who has +graciously given his consent. Let me now make known to you that, at +sunrise to-morrow, your attendants who have been sojourning at +Casinum, will await you by the gate of the monastery. I wish you, +dear lord, a fair journey. Let your thoughts sometimes turn to us; +by us you will ever be remembered.' + +Long before the morrow's sunrise, Basil was stirring. By the light +of his little lamp, he and Deodatus conversed together, no longer as +master and servant, but as loving friends, until the bell called +them to matins. The night was chill; under a glistening moon all the +valley land was seen to be deep covered with far-spreading mist, +whereamid the mount of the monastery and the dark summits round +about rose like islands in a still, white sea. When matins and lauds +were over, many of the monks embraced and tenderly took leave of the +departing guest. The last to do so was Marcus, who led him aside and +whispered: + +'I see you have again put on your ring, as was right. Let me, I beg +of you, once more touch it with my lips.' + +Having done so with the utmost reverence, he clasped Basil in his +arms, kissed him on either cheek, and said, amid tears: + +'Lest we should never meet again, take and keep this; not for its +worth, for God knows it has little, but in memory of my love.' + +The gift was a little book, a beautifully written copy of all the +verses composed by the good Marcus in honour of Benedict and of the +Sacred Mount of Casinum. + +Holding it against his heart, Basil rode down into the mist. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +AT HADRIAN'S VILLA + + + + +Rome waited. It was not long to the setting of the Pleiades, and +there could be no hope that the new army from the East would enter +Italy this year. Belisarius lay on the other side of Hadria; in +Italy the Imperial commanders scarce moved from the walls where each +had found safety. Already suffering dearth (for Totila now had ships +upon the Tyrrhene Sea, hindering the corn vessels that made for +Portus), such of her citizens as had hope elsewhere and could +escape, making haste to flee, watching the slow advance of the +Gothic conqueror, and fearful of the leaguer which must presently +begin, Rome waited. + +One morning the attention of those who went about the streets was +caught by certain written papers which had been fixed during the +night on the entrance of public buildings and at other such +conspicuous points; they bore a proclamation of the King of the +Goths. Reminding the Roman people that nearly the whole of Italy was +now his, and urging them to avoid the useless sufferings of a siege, +Totila made promise that, were the city surrendered to him, neither +hurt nor loss should befall one of the inhabitants; and that under +his rule Rome should have the same liberty, the same honour, as in +the time of the glorious Theodoric. Before these papers had been +torn down, their purport became universally known; everywhere men +whispered together; but those who would have welcomed the coming of +Totila could not act upon their wish, and the Greeks were confident +of relief long ere the city could be taken by storm or brought to +extremities. Bessas well knew the numbers of Totila's army; he +himself commanded a garrison of three thousand men, and not much +larger than this was the force with which, after leaving soldiers to +maintain his conquest throughout the land, the king now drew towards +Rome. At the proclamation Bessas laughed, for he saw in it a device +dictated by weakness. + +And now, in these days of late autumn, the Gothic army lay all but +in sight. Watchers from the walls pointed eastward, to where on its +height, encircled by the foaming Anio, stood the little town of +Tibur; this, a stronghold overlooking the Ager Romanus, Totila had +turned aside to besiege. The place must soon yield to him. How long +before his horsemen came riding along the Tiburtine Way? + +Close by Tibur, on a gently rising slope, sheltered by mountains +alike from northern winds and from the unwholesome breathing of the +south, stood the vast pleasure-house built by the Emperor Hadrian, +with its presentment in little of the scenes and architecture which +had most impressed him in his travels throughout the Roman world. +The lapse of four hundred years had restored to nature his +artificial landscape: the Vale of Tempe had forgotten its name; +Peneus and Alpheus flowed unnoticed through tracts of wood or +wilderness; but upon the multitude of edifices, the dwellings, +theatres, hippodromes, galleries, lecture halls, no destroyer's hand +had yet fallen. They abounded in things beautiful, in carving and +mosaic, in wall-painting and tapestries, in statues which had been +the glory of Greece, and in marble portraiture which was the boast +of Rome. Here, amid the decay of ancient splendour and the +luxuriance of the triumphing earth, King Totila made his momentary +abode; with him, in Hadrian's palace, housed the Gothic +warrior-nobles, and a number of ladies, their wives and relatives, +who made, as it were, a wandering court. Honour, pride, and cheerful +courage were the notable characteristics of these Gothic women. What +graces they had they owed to nature, not to any cultivation of the +mind. Their health Buffered in a nomadic life from the ills of the +country, the dangers of the climate, and the children by whom a few +were accompanied, showed a degeneracy of blood which threatened the +race with extinction. + +Foremost in rank among them was Athalfrida, sister to the king, and +wife of a brawny lord named Osuin. Though not yet five and twenty +years old, Athalfrida had borne seven children, of whom five died in +babyhood. A creature of magnificent form, and in earlier life of +superb vigour, her paling cheek told of decline that had begun; +nevertheless her spirits were undaunted; and her voice, in gay talk, +in song or in laughter, sounded constantly about the halls and wild +gardens. Merry by choice, she had in her a vein of tenderness which +now and then (possibly due to failing health) became excessive, +causing her to shed abundant tears with little or no cause, and to +be over lavish of endearments with those she loved or merely liked. +Athalfrida worshipped her husband; in her brother saw the ideal +hero. She was ardent in racial feeling, thought nothing good but +what was Gothic, and hated the Italians for their lack of gratitude +to the people of Theodoric. + +To her the king had intrusted Veranilda. Knowing her origin and +history, Athalfrida, in the beginning, could not but look coldly +upon her charge. The daughter of a Gothic renegade, the betrothed of +a Roman noble, and finally an apostate from the creed of her +race-how could such an one expect more than the barest civility from +Totila's sister? Yet in a little time it had come to pass that +Athalfrida felt her heart soften to the sad and beautiful maiden, +who never spoke but gently, who had compassion for all suffering, +and willing aid for any one she could serve, whom little children +loved as soon as they looked into her eyes, and heard her voice. +Though a daughter of the abhorred Ebrimut, Veranilda was of Amal +blood, and, despite what seemed her weakness and her errors, it soon +appeared that she cherished fervidly the glory of the Gothic name. +This contradiction puzzled the wife of Osuin, whose thoughts could +follow only the plainest track. She suspected that her charge must +be the victim of some enchantment, of some evil spell; and in their +talk she questioned her with infinite curiosity concerning her +acquaintance with Basil, her life in the convent at Praeneste, her +release and the journey with Marcian. Veranilda spoke as one who has +nothing to conceal; only, when pressed for the story of that last +day at the island villa, she turned away her face, and entreated the +questioner's forbearance. All else she told with a sad simplicity. +Her religious conversion was the result of teaching she had received +from the abbess, a Roman lady of great learning, who spoke of things +till then unknown to her, and made so manifest the truth of the +Catholic creed that her reason was constrained to accept it. Obeying +the king's command, Athalfrida refrained from argument and +condemnation, and, as Veranilda herself, when once she had told her +story, never again returned to it, the subject was almost forgotten. +They lived together on terms as friendly as might be between persons +so different. The other ladies, their curiosity once satisfied, +scarce paid any heed to her at all; and Veranilda was never more +content than when left quite alone, to ply her needle and commune +with her thoughts. + +Against all expectation, the gates of Tibur remained obstinately +closed; three weeks went by, and those who came on to the walls to +parley had only words of scorn for the Gothic king, whom they bade +beware of the Greek force which would shortly march to their +succour. Only a small guard of Isaurians held the town, but it was +abundantly provisioned, and strong enough to defy attack for an +indefinite time. The Goths had no skill in taking fortresses by +assault; when walls held firm against them, they seldom overcame +except by blockade; and this it was which, despite his conquest of +the greater part of Italy, made Totila thus slow and cautious in his +approach to Rome. He remembered that Vitiges, who laid siege to the +city with a hundred thousand men, had retreated at last with his +troops diminished by more than half, so worn and dispirited that +they scarce struck another blow against Belisarius. The Greek +commander, Totila well knew, would not sally forth and risk an +engagement: to storm the battlements would be an idle, if not a +fatal, attempt; and how, with so small an army, could he encompass +so vast a wall? To guard the entrance to the river with his ships, +and to isolate Rome from every inland district of Italy, seemed to +the Gothic king the only sure way of preparing his final triumph. +But time pressed; however beset with difficulties, Belisarius would +not linger for ever beyond Hadria. The resistance of Tibur excited +Totila's impatience, and at length stirred his wrath. Osuin heard a +terrible threat fall from his lips, and the same evening whispered +it to Athalfrida. + +'He will do well,' answered his wife, with brows knit. + +On the morrow, Athalfrida and Veranilda sat together in the gardens, +or what once had been the gardens, of Hadrian's palace, and looked +forth over the vast brown landscape, with that gleam upon its limit, +that something pale between earth and air, which was the Tyrrhene +Sea. Over the sky hung thin grey clouds, broken with strips of hazy +blue, and softly suffused with warmth from the invisible sun. + +'O that this weary war would end!' exclaimed the elder lady in the +language of the Goths. 'I am sick of wandering, sick of this south, +where winter is the same as summer, sick of the name of Rome. I +would I were back in Mediolanum. There, when you look from the +walls, you see the great white mountains, and a wind blows from +them, cold, keen; a wind that sets you running and leaping, and +makes you hungry. Here I have no gust for food, and indeed there is +none worth eating.' + +As she spoke, she raised her hand to the branch of an arbutus just +above her head, plucked one of the strawberry-like fruits, bit into +it with her white teeth, and threw the half away contemptuously. + +'You!' She turned to her companion abruptly. 'Where would you like +to live when the war is over?' + +Veranilda's eyes rested upon something in the far distance, but less +far than the shining horizon. + +'Surely not _there_!' pursued the other, watching her. 'I was but +once in Rome, and I had not been there a week when I fell sick of +fever. King Theodoric knew better than to make his dwelling at Rome, +and Totila will never live there. The houses are so big and so close +together they scarce leave air to breathe; so old, too, they look as +if they would tumble upon your head. I have small liking for +Ravenna, where there is hardly dry land to walk upon, and you can't +sleep for the frogs. Verona is better. But, best of all, Mediolanum. +There, if he will listen to me, my brother shall have his palace and +his court--as they say some of the emperors did, I know not how +long ago.' + +Still gazing at the far distance, Veranilda murmured: + +'I never saw the city nearer than this.' + +'I would no one might ever look upon it again!' cried Athalfrida, +her blue eyes dark with anger and her cheeks hot. 'I would that the +pestilence, which haunts its streets, might make it desolate, and +that the muddy river, which ever and again turns it into a swamp, +would hide its highest palace under an eternal flood.' + +Veranilda averted her face and kept silence. Thereupon the other +seemed to repent of having spoken so vehemently. + +'Well, that's how I feel sometimes,' she said, in a voice suddenly +gentle. 'But I forgot--or I wouldn't have said it.' + +'I well understand, dear lady,' replied her companion. 'Rome has +never been loyal to the Goths. And yet some Romans have.' + +'How many? To be sure, you know one, and in your thought he stands +for a multitude. Come, you must not be angry with me, child. Nay, +vexed, then. Nay then, hurt and sad. I am not myself to-day. I +dreamt last night of the snowy mountains, and this warmth oppresses +me. In truth, I often fear I shall fall sick. Feel my hand, how hot +it is. Where are the children? Let us walk.' + +Not far away she discovered three little boys, two of them her own, +who were playing at battles and sieges upon stairs which descended +from this terrace to the hippodrome below. After watching them +awhile, with laughter and applause, she threw an arm round +Veranilda's waist, and drew her on to a curved portico where, in a +niche, stood a statue of Antinous. + +'Is that one of their gods, or an emperor?' asked Athalfrida. 'I +have seen his face again and again since we came here.' + +'Indeed, I know not,' answered her companion. 'But surely he is too +beautiful for a man.' + +'Beautiful? Never say that, child; for if it be as you think, it is +the beauty of a devil, and has led who knows how many into the +eternal fire. Had I a hammer here, I would splinter the evil face. I +would not have my boys look at it and think it beautiful.' + +A heavy footstep sounded on the terrace. Turning, they saw Osuin, an +armed giant, with flowing locks, and thick, tawny beard. + +'Wife, a word with you,' he shouted, beckoning from some twenty +paces away. + +They talked together; then the lady returned, a troubled smile on +her face, and said softly to Veranilda: + +'Some one wishes to speak with you--some one who comes with the +king's good-will.' + +Veranilda looked towards Osuin. + +'You cannot mean--?' she faltered. + +'No other,' replied Athalfrida, nodding gaily. 'Are you at leisure? +Some other day, perhaps? I will say you would be private--that you +cannot now give audience.' + +This pleasantry brought only the faintest smile to the listener's +face. + +'Is it hither that he would come?' she asked, again looking +anxiously towards the ruddy giant, who stamped with a beginning of +impatience. + +'If so it please you, little one,' answered Athalfrida, changing all +at once to her softest mood. 'The king leaves all to my discretion, +and I ask nothing better than to do you kindness. Shall it be here, +or within?' + +Veranilda whispered 'Here'; whereupon Osuin received a sign, and +stalked off. A few minutes passed, and Athalfrida, who, after +caresses and tender words, had drawn apart, as if to watch her +children playing, beheld the expected visitor. Her curiosity was not +indiscreet; she would have glimpsed the graceful figure, the comely +visage, and then have turned away; but at this moment the new comer +paused, looked about him in hesitation, and at length advanced +towards her. She had every excuse for looking him straight in the +face, and it needed not the pleasant note of his speech to dispose +her kindly towards him. + +'Gracious lady, I seek the lady Veranilda, and was bidden come +hither along the terrace.' + +Totila's sister had but little of the Latin tongue; now, for perhaps +the first time in her life, she regretted this deficiency. Smiling, +she pointed to a group of cypresses which hid part of the portico, +and her questioner, with a courtly bow, went on. He wore the +ordinary dress of a Roman noble, and had not even a dagger at his +waist. As soon as he had passed the cypresses, he saw, within the +shadow of the portico, the figure his eyes had sought; then he stood +still, and spoke with manly submissiveness. + +'It is much that you suffer me to come into your presence, for of +all men, O Veranilda, I am least worthy to do so.' + +'How shall I answer you?' she replied, with a sad, simple dignity. +'I know not of what unworthiness you accuse yourself. That you are +most unhappy, I know too well.' + +She dared not raise her eyes to him; but in the moment of his +appearance before her, it had gladdened her to see him attired as +when she first knew him. Had he worn the soldierly garb in which he +presented himself at Marcian's villa, the revival of a dread memory +would have pierced her heart. Even as in outward man he was the +Basil she had loved, so did his voice recall that brighter day. + +'Unhappy most of all,' he continued, 'in what I least dare speak of. +I have no ground to plead for pardon. What I did, and still more +what I uttered, judge it at the worst. I should but add to my +baseness if I urged excuses.' + +'Let us not remember that, I entreat you,' said Veranilda. 'But tell +me, if you will, what has befallen you since?' + +'You know nothing of me since then?' + +'Nothing.' + +'And I nothing of you, save that you were with the Gothic army, and +honourably entertained. The king himself spoke to me of you, when, +after long sickness, I came to his camp. He asked if it was my wish +to see you; but I could not yet dare to stand before your face, and +so I answered him. "It is well," said Totila. "Prove yourself in +some service to the Goths and to your country, then I will speak +with you again." And straightway he charged me with a duty which I +the more gladly undertook because it had some taste of danger. He +bade me enter Rome, and spread through the city a proclamation to +the Roman people--' + +'It was you who did that?' interrupted the listener. 'We heard of +its being done, but not by what hand.' + +'With a servant whom I can trust, disguised, he and I, as peasants +bringing food to market, I entered Rome, and remained for two days +within the gates; then returned to Totila. He next sent me to learn +the strength of the Greek garrisons in Spoletium and Assisium, and +how those cities were provisioned; this task also, by good hap, I +discharged so as to win some praise. Then the king again spoke to me +of you. And as, before, I had not dared to approach you, so now I +did not dare to wait longer before making known to you my shame and +my repentance.' + +'Of what sickness did you speak just now?' asked Veranilda, after a +silence. + +He narrated to her his sojourn at the monastery, told of the penance +he had done, of the absolution granted him by Benedict; whereupon a +light came into Veranilda's eyes. + +'There lives,' she exclaimed, 'no holier man!' + +'None holier lived,' was Basil's grave answer. 'Returning from +Assisium, I met a wandering anchorite, who told me of Benedict's +death.' + +'Alas!' + +'But is he reverenced by those of your creed?' asked Basil in +surprise. + +'Of my creed? My faith is that of the Catholic Church.' + +For the first time their eyes met. Basil drew a step nearer; his +face shone with joy, which for a moment held him mute. + +'It was in the convent,' added Veranilda, 'that I learnt the truth. +They whom I called my enemies wrought this good to me.' + +Basil besought her to tell him how she had been carried away from +Surrentum, and all that had befallen her whilst she was a prisoner; +he declared his ignorance of everything between their last meeting +in the Anician villa and the dreadful day which next brought them +face to face. As he said this, it seemed to him that Veranilda's +countenance betrayed surprise. + +'I forget,' he added, his head again falling, 'that your mind has +been filled with doubt of me. How can I convince you that I speak +truly? O Veranilda!' he exclaimed passionately, 'can you look at me, +can you hear me speak, and still believe that I was ever capable of +betraying you?' + +'That I never believed,' she answered in a subdued voice. + +'Yet I saw in your eyes some doubt, some hesitation.' + +'Then it was despite myself. The thought that you planned evil +against me I have ever cast out and abhorred. Why it was said of +you, alas, I know not.' + +'What proof was given?' asked Basil, gazing fixedly at her. + +'None.' + +Her accent did not satisfy him; it seemed to falter. + +'Was nothing said,' he urged, 'to make credible so black an +untruth?' + +Veranilda stood motionless and silent. + +'Speak, I beseech you!' cried Basil, his hands clasped upon his +breast. 'Something there is which shadows your faith in my +sincerity. God knows, I have no right to question you thus--I, who +let my heart be poisoned against you by a breath, a nothing. Rebuke +me as you will; call me by the name I merit; utter all the disdain +you must needs feel for a man so weak and false--' + +His speech was checked upon that word. Veranilda had arrested him +with a sudden look, a look of pain, of fear. + +'False?' fell from her lips. + +'Can _you_ forget it, O Veranilda? Would that I could!' + +'In your anger,' she said, 'as when perchance you were already +distraught with fever, you spoke I know not what. Therein you were +not false to me.' + +'False to myself; I should have said. To you, never, never! False to +my faith in you, false to my own heart which knew you faithful; but +false as men are called who--' + +Again his voice sank. A memory flashed across him, troubling his +brow. + +'What else were you told?' he asked abruptly. 'Can it be a woman's +name was spoken? You are silent. Will you not say that this thought, +also, you abhorred and rejected?' + +The simple honesty of Veranilda's nature would not allow her to +disguise what she thought. Urging question after question, with +ardour irresistible, Basil learnt all she had been told by Marcian +concerning Heliodora, and, having learnt it, confessed the whole +truth in utter frankness, in the plain, blunt words dictated by his +loathing of the Greek woman with whom he had once played at love. +And, as she listened, Veranilda's heart grew light; for the time +before her meeting with Basil seemed very far away, and the +tremulous passion in his voice assured her of all she cared to know, +that his troth pledged to her had never suffered wrong. Basil spoke +on and on, told of his misery in Rome whilst vainly seeking her; how +he was baffled and misled; how at length, in despair, he left the +city and went to his estate by Asculum. Then of the message received +from Marcian, and how eagerly he set forth to cross the Apennines, +resolved that, if he could not find Veranilda, at least he would +join himself with her people and fight for their king; of his +encounter with the marauding troop, his arrival, worn and fevered, +at Aesernia, his meeting with Sagaris, their interview, and what +followed upon it. + +'To this hour I know not whether the man told me what he believed, +or coldly lied to me. He has the face of a villain and may well have +behaved as one--who knows with what end in view? Could I but lay +hands upon him, I would have the truth out of his tongue by torture. +He is in Rome. I saw him come forth from Marcian's house, when I was +there on the king's service; but, of course, I could not speak with +him.' + +Veranilda had seated herself within the portico. Basil stood before +her, ever and again meeting her eyes as she looked up. + +'Just as little,' he resumed after a pause of troubled thought, 'can +I know whether Marcian believed me a traitor, or himself had a +traitorous mind. The more I think, the less do I understand him. I +hope, I hope with all my heart, that he was innocent, and daily I +pray for his eternal welfare.' + +'That is well done, O Basil,' said the listener, for the first time +uttering his name. 'My prayers, too, he shall have. That he was so +willing to credit ill of you, I marvel; and therein he proved +himself no staunch friend. But of all else, he was guiltless.' + +'So shall he ever live in my memory,' said Basil. 'Of him I always +found it easier to believe good than evil, for many were the proofs +he had given me of his affection. Had it been otherwise, I should +long before have doubted him; for, when I was seeking you in Rome, +more than once did a finger point to Marcian, as to one who knew +more than he would say. I heard the accusation with scorn, knowing +well that they who breathed it desired to confound me.' + +This turned his thoughts again to the beginning of their sorrows; +and again he gently asked of Veranilda that she would relate that +part of her story which remained unknown to him. She, no longer +saddened by the past, looked frankly up into his face, and smiled as +she began. Now first did Basil hear of the anchoret Sisinnius, and +how Aurelia was beguiled into the wood, where capture awaited her. +Of the embarkment at Surrentum, Veranilda had only a confused +recollection: fear and distress re-awoke in her as she tried to +describe the setting forth to sea, and the voyage that followed. +Sisinnius and his monkish follower were in the ship, but held no +speech with their captives. After a day or two of sailing, they +landed at nightfall, but in what place she had never learnt. Still +conducted by the anchorets, they were taken to pass the night in a +large house, where they had good entertainment, but saw only the +female slaves who waited upon them. The next day began a journey by +road; and thus, after more than one weary day, they arrived at the +house of religious women which was to be Veranilda's home for nearly +a twelvemonth. + +'I knew not where I was, and no one would answer me that question, +though otherwise I had gentle and kindly usage. Aurelia I saw no +more; we had not even taken leave of each other, for we did not +dream on entering the house that we were to be parted. Whether she +remained under that roof I never learnt. During our journey, she +suffered much, often weeping bitterly, often all but distraught with +anger and despair. Before leaving the ship we were told that, if +either of us tried to escape, we should be fettered, and only the +fear of that indignity kept Aurelia still. Her face, as I remember +its last look, was dreadful, so white and anguished. I have often +feared that, if she were long kept prisoner, she would lose her +senses.' + +Basil having heard the story to an end without speaking, made known +the thoughts it stirred in him. They talked of Petronilla and of the +deacon Leander, and sought explanations of Veranilda's release. And, +as thus they conversed, they forgot all that had come between them; +their constraint insensibly passed away; till at length Basil was +sitting by Veranilda's side, and holding her hand, and their eyes +met in a long gaze of love and trust and hope. + +'Can you forgive?' murmured Basil, upon whom, in the fulness of his +joy, came the memory of what he deemed his least pardonable sin. + +'How can I talk of forgiveness,' she returned, 'when not yours was +the blame, but mine? For I believed--or all but believed--that +you had forgotten me.' + +'Beloved, I was guilty of worse than faithlessness. I dread to +think, and still more to speak, of it; yet if I am silent, I spare +myself; and seem, perhaps, to make light of baseness for which there +are no words of fitting scorn. That too, be assured, O Veranilda, I +confessed to the holy Benedict.' + +Her bowed head and flushing cheek told him that she understood. + +'Basil,' she whispered, 'it was not you, not you.' + +'Gladly would I give myself that comfort. When I think, indeed, that +this hand was raised to take my friend's life, I shake with horror +and say, "Not _I_ did that!" Even so would I refuse to charge my +very self with those words that my lips uttered. But to you they +were spoken; you heard them; you fled before them--' + +'Basil! Basil!' + +She had hidden her face with her hands. Basil threw himself upon his +knees beside her. + +'Though I spoke in madness, can you ever forget? God Himself, I +know, will sooner blot out my sin of murder than this wound I +inflicted upon your pure and gentle heart!' + +Veranilda caught his hand and pressed her lips upon it, whilst her +tears fell softly. + +'Listen, dearest Basil,' she said. 'To think that I guard this in my +memory against you would be to do me wrong. Remember how first I +spoke to you about it, when we first knew that we loved each other. +Did I not tell you that this was a thing which could never be quite +forgotten? Did I not know that, if ever I sinned, or seemed to sin, +_this_ would be the first rebuke upon the lips of those I angered? +Believing me faithless--nay, not you, beloved, but your fevered +brain--how could you but think that thought? And, even had you not +spoken it, must I not have read it in your face? Never ask me to +forgive what you could not help. Rather, O Basil, will I entreat +you, even as I did before, to bear with the shame inseparable from +my being. If it lessen not your love, have I not cause enough for +thankfulness?' + +Hearing such words as these, in the sweetest, tenderest voice that +ever caressed a lover's senses, Basil knew not how to word all that +was in his heart. Passion spoke for him, and not in vain; for in a +few moments Veranilda's tears were dry, or lingered only to glisten +amid the happy light which beamed from her eyes. Side by side, +forgetful of all but their recovered peace, they talked sweet +nothings, until there sounded from far a woman's voice, calling the +name of Veranilda. + +'That is Athalfrida,' she said, starting up. 'I must not delay.' + +One whisper, one kiss, and she was gone. When Basil, after brief +despondency came forth on to the open terrace, he saw her at a +distance, standing with Athalfrida and Osuin. Their looks invited +him to approach, and, when he was near, Veranilda stepped towards +him. + +'It will not be long,' she said calmly, 'before we again meet. The +lord Osuin promises, and he speaks for the king.' + +Basil bowed in silence. The great-limbed warrior and his fair wife +had their eyes upon him, and were smiling good-naturedly. Then Osuin +spoke in thick-throated Latin. + +'Shall we be gone, lord Basil?' + +From the end of the terrace, Basil looked back. Athalfrida stood +with her arm about the maiden's waist; both gazed towards him, and +Veranilda waved her hand. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +ROME BELEAGUERED + + + + +A few days later the guards at the Tiburtine Gate of Rome were +hailed, before dawn, by a number of Greek soldiers in the disarray +of flight. It was a portion of the garrison of Tibur: the town had +been betrayed at sunset, by certain of its inhabitants who watched +at one of the gates. The soldiers fought their way through and most +of them escaped, and had fled hither through the darkness. Before +the end of the day came news more terrible. A peasant from a +neighbouring farm declared that all the people of Tibur, men, women, +and children, had perished under the Gothic sword, not even +ministers of religion having found mercy. And very soon this report, +at first doubted, was fully confirmed. The event excited no less +astonishment than horror, contrasting as it did with Totila's +humanity throughout the war. Some offered as explanation the fact +that many Goths lived at Tibur, whose indifference or hostility had +angered the king; others surmised that this was Totila's warning +after the failure of his proclamation to the Romans. Whatever the +meaning of such unwonted severity, its effect upon the Romans was +unfavourable to the Gothic cause. Just about this time there +happened to arrive two captains, sent by Belisarius with a small +troop for the reinforcement of Bessas. The addition to the strength +of the garrison was inconsiderable, but it served to put the city in +heart once more. The Patricius himself would not be long in coming, +and when did the name of Belisarius sound anything but victory? + +This confidence increased when Totila, instead of marching upon +Rome, as all had expected, turned in the opposite direction, and led +his forces across the Apennines. The gates were thrown open; the +citizens resumed their ordinary life, saying to each other that all +fear of a siege was at an end; and when certain ships from Sicily, +having by good luck escaped the Gothic galleys, landed a good supply +of corn, there was great exultation. True, only a scanty measure of +this food reached the populace, and that chiefly by the good offices +of the archdeacon Pelagius, now become as dear to the people as Pope +Vigilius was hateful; the granaries were held by Bessas, who first +of all fed his soldiers, and then sold at a great price. As winter +went on, the Romans suffered much. And with the spring came +disquieting news of Totila's successes northwards: the towns of +Picenum had yielded to him; he was moving once more in this +direction; he captured Spoletium, Assisium, and still came on. + +Belisarius, meanwhile, had crossed to Italy, and was encamped at +Ravenna. Why, asked the Romans, impatiently, anxiously, did he not +march to meet the Gothic king? But the better informed knew that his +army was miserably insufficient; they heard of his ceaseless appeals +to Byzantium, of his all but despair in finding himself without +money, without men, in the land which but a few years ago had seen +his glory. Would the Emperor take no thought for Italy, for Rome? +Bessas, with granaries well stored, and his palace heaped with Roman +riches, shrugged when the nobles spoke disrespectfully of Justinian; +his only loyalty was to himself. + +At high summertide, the Gothic camp was pitched before Rome, and the +siege anticipated for so many months had at length begun. For +whatever reason, Totila had never attempted to possess himself of +Portus, which guarded the mouth of the river Tiber on the north bank +and alone made possible the provisioning of the city. Fearing that +this stronghold would now be attacked, Bessas despatched a body of +soldiers to strengthen its garrison; but they fell into a Gothic +ambush, and were cut to pieces. Opposite Portus, and separated from +it by a desert island, on either side of which Tiber flowed to the +sea, lay the ancient town of Ostia, once the port of the world's +traffic, now ruinous and scarce inhabited. Here Totila established +an outpost; but he did not otherwise threaten the harbour on the +other side. His purpose evidently was to avoid all conflict which +would risk a reduction of the Gothic army, and by patient blockade +to starve the Romans into surrender. + +He could not surround the city, with its circuit of twelve miles; he +could not keep ceaseless watch upon the sixteen gates and the +numerous posterns. King Vitiges, in his attempt to do so, had +suffered terrible losses. It was inevitable that folk should pass in +and out of Rome. But from inland no supplies could be expected by +the besieged, and any ship sailing up to Portus would have little +chance of landing its cargo safely. Before long, indeed, this was +put to proof. The Pope, whose indecision still kept him lingering in +Sicily, nearly a twelvemonth after his departure from Rome for +Constantinople, freighted a vessel with corn for the relief of the +city, and its voyage was uninterrupted as far as the Tiber's mouth. +There it became an object of interest, not only to the Greeks on the +walls of Portus, but to the Gothic soldiers at. Ostia, who forthwith +crossed in little boats, and lay awaiting the ship at the entrance +to the haven. Observant of this stratagem, the garrison, by all +manner of signalling, tried to warn the sailors of the danger +awaiting them; but their signals were misunderstood, being taken for +gestures of eager welcome; and the ship came on. With that lack of +courage which characterised them, the Greeks did nothing more than +wave arms and shout: under their very eyes, the corn-ship was +boarded by the Goths, and taken into Ostia. + +Of courage, indeed, as of all other soldierly virtues, little enough +was exhibited, at this stage of the war, on either side. The +Imperial troops scattered about Italy, ill-paid, and often starving +mercenaries from a score of Oriental countries, saw no one ready to +lead them to battle, and the one Byzantine general capable of +commanding called vainly for an army. Wearied by marchings and +counter-marchings, the Gothic warriors were more disposed to rest +awhile after their easy conquests than to make a vigorous effort for +the capture of Rome. Totila himself, heroic redeemer of his nation, +turned anxious glances towards Ravenna, hoping, rather than +resolving, to hold his state upon the Palatine before Belisarius +could advance against him. He felt the fatigue of those about him, +and it was doubtless under the stress of such a situation, bearing +himself the whole burden of the war, that he had ordered, or +permitted, barbarous revenge upon the city of Tibur. For this reason +he would not, even now, centre all his attention upon the great +siege; he knew what a long, dispiriting business it was likely to +be, and feared to fall into that comparative idleness. Soon after +the incident of the Sicilian corn-ship, he was once more commanding +in the north, where a few cities yet held out against him. Dreadful +stories were told concerning the siege of Placentia, whose +inhabitants were said to have eaten the bodies of their dead ere +they yielded to the Goth. So stern a spirit of resistance was found +only in places where religious zeal and national sentiment both +existed in their utmost vigour, and Totila well knew that, of these +two forces ever threatening to make his conquests vain, it was from +religion that he had most to fear. In vain was the history of Gothic +tolerance known throughout Italy; it created no corresponding virtue +in the bosom of Catholicism; the barbaric origin of the Goths might +be forgotten or forgiven, their heresy--never. + +Totila, whose qualities of heart and mind would have made him, could +he but have ruled in peace, a worthy successor of the great +Theodoric, had reflected much on this question of the hostile +creeds; he had talked of it with ministers of his own faith and with +those of the orthodox church; and it was on this account that he had +sought an interview with the far-famed monk of Casinum. +Understanding the futility of any hope that the Italians might be +won to Arianism, and having sufficient largeness of intellect to +perceive how idle was a debate concerning the 'substance' of the +Father and of the Son, Totila must at times have felt willing enough +to renounce the heretical name, and so win favour of the Italians, +the greater part of whom would assuredly have preferred his rule to +that of the Emperor Justinian. But he knew the religious obstinacy +of his own people; to imagine their following him in a conversion to +Catholicism was but to dream. Pondering thus, he naturally regarded +with indulgence the beautiful and gentle Gothic maiden delivered +into his power. by a scheming Roman ecclesiastic. After his +conversations with Veranilda, he had a pensive air; and certain +persons who observed him remarked on it to each other, whence arose +the rumour that Totila purposed taking to wife this last descendant +of the Amals. Whatever his temptations, he quickly overcame them. If +ever he thought of marriage, policy and ambition turned his mind +towards the royal Franks; but the time for that had not yet come. +Meanwhile, having spoken with the young Roman whom Veranilda loved, +he saw in Basil a useful instrument, and resolved, if his loyalty to +the Goths bore every test, to reward him with Veranilda's hand. The +marriage would be of good example, and might, if the Gothic arms +remained triumphant, lead to other such. + +After the meeting at Hadrian's villa which he granted to the lovers, +Totila summoned Basil to his presence. Regarding him with a +good-natured smile, he said pleasantly: + +'Your face has a less doleful cast than when I first saw it.' + +'That,' answered Basil, 'is due in no small degree to the gracious +favour of my king.' + +'Continue to merit my esteem, lord Basil, and proof of my good-will +shall not be wanting. But the time for repose and solace is not yet. +To-morrow you will go with Venantius to Capua, and thence, it may +be, into Apulia.' + +Basil bowed in silence. He had hoped that the siege of Rome was now +to be undertaken, and that this would ensure his remaining near to +Veranilda. But the loyalty he professed to Totila was no less in his +heart than on his lips, and after a moment's struggle he looked up +with calm countenance. + +'Have you aught to ask of me?' added Totila, after observing his +face. + +'This only, O king: that if occasion offer, I may send written news +of myself to her I love.' + +'That is a little thing,' was the answer, 'and I grant it +willingly.' + +Totila paused a moment; then, his blue eyes shining with a vehement +thought, added gravely: + +'When we speak together within the walls of Rome, ask more, and it +shall not be refused.' + +So Basil rode southward, and happily was far away when Tibur opened +its gates to the Goth. For more than half a year he and Venantius +were busy in maintaining the Gothic rule throughout Lucania and +Apulia, where certain Roman nobles endeavoured to raise an army of +the peasantry in aid of the Greek invasion constantly expected upon +the Adriatic shore. When at length he was recalled, the siege of +Rome had begun. The Gothic ladies now resided at Tibur, where a +garrison was established; there Basil and Veranilda again met, and +again only for an hour. But their hopes were high, and scarce could +they repine at the necessity of parting so soon. Already in a +letter, Basil had spoken of the king's promise; he now repeated it, +whilst Veranilda flushed with happiness. + +'And you remain before Rome?' she asked. + +'Alas, no! I am sent to Ravenna, to spy out the strength of +Belisarius.' + +But Rome was besieged, and so hateful had Bessas made himself to the +Roman people that it could not be long ere some plot among them +delivered the city. + +'Then,' cried Basil exultantly, 'I shall ask my reward.' + + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +* * * * + + + + +On a winter's day, at the hour of sundown, Heliodora sat in her +great house on the Quirinal, musing sullenly. Beside her a brazier +of charcoal glowed in the dusk, casting a warm glimmer upon the +sculptured forms which were her only companions; she was wrapped in +a scarlet cloak, with a hood which shadowed her face. All day the +sun had shone brilliantly, but it glistened afar on snowy summits, +and scarce softened the mountain wind which blew through the streets +of Rome. + +To divert a hungry populace, now six months besieged, Bessas was +offering entertainments such as suited the Saturnalian season. +To-day he had invited Rome to the Circus Maximus, where, because no +spectacle could be provided imposing enough to fill the whole vast +space, half a dozen shows were presented simultaneously; the +spectators grouped here and there, in number not a fiftieth part of +that assembly which thundered at the chariots in olden time. Here +they sat along the crumbling, grass-grown, and, as their nature was, +gladly forgot their country's ruin, their own sufferings, and the +doom which menaced them. Equestrians, contortionists, mimes, +singers, were readily found in the city, where a brave or an honest +man had become rare indeed. What a performance lacked in art, he +supplied by shamelessness; and nowhere was laughter so hearty, or +the crowd so dense, as in that part of the circus where comic +singers and dancers vied with the grossest traditions of the pagan +theatre. + +Heliodora could not miss such an opportunity of enjoyment and of +display. She sat amid her like, the feline ladies and the young +nobles, half brute, half fop, who though already most of them fasted +without the merit of piety, still prided themselves on being the +flower of Roman fashion. During one of the pauses of the festival, +when places were changed, and limbs stretched, some one whispered to +her that she was invited to step towards that place of honour where +sat the Emperor's representative. An invitation of Bessas could not +lightly be declined, nor had Heliodora any reluctance to obey such a +summons. More than a year had gone by since her vain attempt, on +Marcian's suggestion, to enslave the avaricious Thracian, and, since +then, the hapless Muscula had had more than one successor. Roman +gossip, always busy with the fair Greek, told many a strange story +to account for her rigour towards the master of Rome, who was well +known to have made advances to her. So when to-day they were seen +sitting side by side, conversing vivaciously, curiosity went on +tiptoe. The entertainment over, Heliodora was carried home in her +litter, no friend accompanying her. Few nowadays were the persons in +Rome who bade guests to their table; even the richest had no great +superfluity of viands. After sunset, the city became a dark and +silent desert, save when watch-fires glared and soldiers guarded the +walls. + +As was the case with all Romans who not long ago had commanded a +multitude of slaves and freedmen, Heliodora's household was much +reduced. Even before the siege began, many of the serving class +stole away to the Goths, who always received them with a welcome; +and since the closing of the gates this desertion had been of daily +occurrence, the fugitives having little difficulty in making their +escape from so vast a city so sparsely populated. No longer did the +child from far-off Anglia ride about on his mistress's errands; a +female slave, punished for boxing his ears, had stifled him as he +slept, and fled that night with five or six others who were tired of +the lady's caprices and feared her cruelty. Her aviary was empty. +Having wearied of that whim, she had let the birds loose; a +generosity she regretted now that toothsome morsels were rare. In +her strong box there remained little money, and the estate she owned +in a distant part of Italy might as well have been sunk in the sea +for all the profit it could yield her. True, she had objects of +value, such as were daily accepted by Bessas in exchange for corn +and pork; but, if it came to that extremity, could not better use be +made of the tough-skinned commander? Heliodora had no mind to +support herself on bread and pork whilst food more appetising might +still be got. + +It was all but dark. She rang a hand-bell and was answered by a +maidservant. + +'Has Sagaris returned yet?' she asked impatiently. + +'Lady, not yet.' + +Heliodora kept silence for a moment, then bade the girl bring her a +lamp. A very small lamp was set upon the table, and as she glanced +at its poor flame, Heliodora remembered that the store of oil was +nearly at an end. + +Again she had sat alone for nearly half an hour, scarcely stirring, +so intent was she on the subject of her thoughts, when a light +footfall sounded without, and the curtain at the door was raised. +She turned and saw a dark countenance, which smiled upon her coldly. + +'Where have you been?' broke angrily from her lips. + +'Hither and thither,' was the softly insolent reply, as Sagaris let +the curtain fall behind him and stepped forward to the brazier, over +which he held out his hands to warm them. + +By his apparel, he might have been mistaken for a noble. + +Nominally he had for a year held the office of steward to Heliodora. +That his functions were not, as a matter of fact, all comprised +under that name was well known to all in the house, and to some +beyond its walls. + +'Were you at the Circus?' she next inquired, using the large hood to +avoid his gaze without seeming to do so. + +'I was there, gracious lady. Not, of course, in such an exalted +place as that in which I saw _you_.' + +'I did not choose that place,' said Heliodora, her voice almost +conciliatory. 'Being sent for, I could not refuse to go.' + +Sagaris set a stool near to his mistress, seated himself, and looked +up into her face. She, for an instant, bore it impatiently, but of a +sudden her countenance changed, and she met the gaze with a +half-mocking smile. + +'Is this one of your jealous days?' she asked, with what was meant +for playfulness, though the shining of her eyes and teeth in the +lamplight gave the words rather an effect of menace. + +'Perhaps it is,' answered the Syrian. 'What did Bessas say to you?' + +'Many things. He ended by asking me to sup at the palace. You will +own that the invitation was tempting.' + +Sagaris glared fiercely at her, and drew upon himself a look no less +fierce. + +'Fool!' she exclaimed, once more speaking in a natural voice. 'How +shall we live a month hence? Have you a mind to steal away to the +Goths? If you do so, you can't expect me to starve here alone. +Thick-willed slave! Can you see no further than the invitation to +sup with that thievish brute?--which I should have accepted, had I +not foreseen the necessity of explaining to your dulness all that +might follow upon it.' + +Esteeming himself the shrewdest of mankind, Sagaris deeply resented +these insults, not for the first time thrown at him by the woman +whom he regarded with an Oriental passion and contempt. + +'Of course I know what you mean,' he replied disdainfully. 'I know, +too, that you will be no match for the Thracian robber.' + +Heliodora caught his arm. + +'What if I can make him believe that Belisarius has the Emperor's +command to send him in chains to Constantinople! Would he not rather +come to terms with Totila, who, as I know well, long ago offered to +let him carry off half his plunder?' + +'You know that? How?' + +'Clod-pate I Have you forgotten your master whom Basil slew? Did I +not worm out of him, love-sick simpleton that he was, all the +secrets of his traffic with Greeks and Goths?' + +Again they glanced at each other like wild creatures before the +leap. + +'Choose,' said Heliodora. 'Leave me free to make your fortune, for +Totila is generous to those who serve him well; or stay here and spy +upon me till your belly pinches, and the great opportunity of your +life is lost.' + +There was a silence. The Syrian's features showed how his mind was +rocking this way and that. + +'You have not cunning for this,' he snarled. 'The Thracian will use +you and laugh at you. And when you think to come back to me. . . .' + +He touched the dagger at his waist. + +In that moment there came confused sounds from without the room. +Suddenly the curtain was pulled aside, and there appeared the face +of a frightened woman, who exclaimed: 'Soldiers, lady, soldiers are +in the house!' + +Heliodora started up. Sagaris, whose hand was still on the dagger's +hilt, grasped her by the mantle, his look and attitude so like that +of a man about to strike that she sprang away from him with a loud +cry. Again the curtain was raised, and there entered hurriedly +several armed men. Their leader looked with a meaning grin at the +lady and her companion, who now stood apart from each other. + +'Pardon our hasty entrance, fair Heliodora,' he said in Greek. 'The +commander has need of you--on pressing business.' + +'The commander must wait my leisure,' she replied with a note of +indignation over-emphasised. + +'Nay, that he cannot,' returned the officer, leering at Sagaris. 'He +is even now at supper, and will take it ill if you be not there when +he rises from table. A litter waits.' + +Not without much show of wrath did Heliodora yield. As she left the +room, her eyes turned to Sagaris, who had shrunk into a corner, +coward fear and furious passion distorting his face. The lady having +been borne away, a few soldiers remained in the house, where they +passed the night. On the morrow Bessas himself paid a visit to that +famous museum of sculpture, and after an inspection, which left no +possible hiding-place unsearched, sent away to the Palatine +everything that seemed to him worth laying hands upon. + +Meanwhile the domestics had all been held under guard. Sagaris, who +heard his relations with Heliodora jested over by the slaves and +soldiers, passed a night of terror, and when he knew of the +commander's arrival, scarce had strength to stand. To his surprise, +nothing ill befell him. During the pillage of the house he was +disregarded, and when Bessas had gone he only had to bear the scoffs +of his fellow-slaves. These unfortunates lived together as long as +the scant provisions lasted, then scattered in search of sustenance. +The great house on the Quirinal stood silent, left to its denizens +of marble and of bronze. + +Sagaris, who suspected himself to have been tricked by Heliodora in +the matter of her removal to the Palatine, and had not the least +faith in her power to beguile Bessas, swore by all the saints that +the day of his revenge should come; but for the present he had to +think of how to keep himself alive. Money he had none; it was idle +to hope of attaching himself to another household, and unless he +escaped to the Goths, there was no resource but to beg from one or +other of those few persons who, out of compassion and for their +souls' sake, gave alms to the indigent. Wandering in a venomous +humour, he chanced to approach the Via Lata, and out of curiosity +turned to the house of Marcian. Not knowing whether it was still +inhabited, he knocked at the door, and was surprised to hear a dog's +bark, for nearly all the dogs in Rome had already been killed and +eaten. The wicket opened, and a voice spoke which he well +remembered. + +'You alive still, old Stephanus? Who feeds you? Open and teach me +the art of living on nothing.' + +He who opened looked indeed the image of Famine--a fleshless, +tottering creature, with scarce strength left to turn the key in the +door. His only companions in the house were his daughter and the +dog. Till not long ago there had been also the daughter's child, +whom she had borne to Marcian, but this boy was dead. + +'I'm glad to see you,' said Stephanus mysteriously, drawing his +visitor into the atrium, and speaking as if the house were full of +people who might overhear him. 'Your coming to-day is a strange +thing. Have you, perchance, had a dream?' + +'What dream should I have had?' answered Sagaris, his superstition +at once stirring. + +The old man related that last night, for the third time, he had +dreamt that a treasure lay buried in this house. Where he could not +say, but in his dream he seemed to descend stairs, and to reach a +door which, when he opened it, showed him a pile of gold, shining in +so brilliant a light that he fell back blinded, whereupon the door +closed in his face. To this the Syrian listened very curiously. +Cellars there were below the house, as he well knew, and hidden +treasure was no uncommon thing in Rome. Having bidden Stephanus +light a torch, he went exploring, but though they searched long, +they could find no trace of a door long unopened, or of a walled-up +entrance. + +'You should have more wit in your dreaming, old scarecrow,' said +Sagaris. 'If I had had a dream such as that a second time, not to +speak of a third, do you think I should not have learnt the way. But +you were always a clod-pate.' + +Thus did he revenge himself for the contumely he had suffered from +Heliodora. As he spoke they were joined by the old man's daughter, +who, after begging at many houses, returned with a pocketful of +lentils. The girl had been pretty, but was now emaciated and +fever-burnt; she looked with ill-will at Sagaris, whom she believed, +as did others of his acquaintance, to have murdered Marcian, and to +have invented the story of his death at the hands of Basil. Well +understanding this, Sagaris amused himself with jesting on the loss +of her beauty; why did she not go to the Palatine, where handsome +women were always welcome? Having driven her away with his +brutality, he advised Stephanus to keep silent about the treasure, +and promised to come again ere long. + +He now turned his steps to the other side of Tiber, and, after +passing through poor streets, where some show of industries was +still kept up by a few craftsmen, though for the most part folk sat +or lay about in sullen idleness, came to those grinding-mills on the +slope of the Janiculum which were driven by Trajan's aqueduct. Day +and night the wheels made their clapping noise, seeming to clamour +for the corn which did not come. At the door of one of the mills, a +spot warmed by the noonday sun, sat a middle-aged man, wretchedly +garbed, who with a burnt stick was drawing what seemed to be +diagrams on the stone beside him. At the sound of a footstep, rare +in that place, he hastily smeared out his designs, and looking up +showed a visage which bore a racial resemblance to that of Sagaris. +Recognising the visitor, he smiled, pointed to the ground in +invitation, and when Sagaris had placed himself near by, began +talking in the tongue of their own Eastern land. This man, who +called himself Apollonius, had for some years enjoyed reputation in +Rome as an astrologer, thereby gaining much money; and even in these +dark days he found people who were willing to pay him, either in +coin or food, for his counsel and prophecies. Fearful of drawing +attention upon himself, as one who had wealth in store, he had come +to live like a beggar in this out-of-the-way place, where his money +was securely buried, and with it a provision of corn, peas, and +lentils which would keep him alive for a long time. Apollonius was +the only man living whom Sagaris, out of reverence and awe, would +have hesitated to rob, and the only man to whom he did not lie. For +beside being learned in the stars, an interpreter of dreams, a +prophet of human fate, Apollonius spoke to those he could trust of a +religion, of sacred mysteries, much older, he said, and vastly more +efficacious for the soul's weal than the faith in Christ. To this +religion Sagaris also inclined, for it was associated with memories +of his childhood in the East; if he saw the rising of the sun, and +was unobserved, he bowed himself before it, with various other +observances of which he had forgotten the meaning. + +His purpose in coming hither was to speak of Stephanus's dream. The +astrologer listened very attentively, and, after long brooding, +consented to use his art for the investigation of the matter. + +* * * * + + +End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of Veranilda +by George Gissing + diff --git a/old/vrnld10.zip b/old/vrnld10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b82e12b --- /dev/null +++ b/old/vrnld10.zip |