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A Struggle For Rome Volume I Part 46

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"Naturally burns to rule in Italy."

"But certainly," said Petros, much embarra.s.sed, "cases might occur----"

"Peter," said Cethegus, now rising indignantly, "use no phrases and no lies with me; they do no good. See, Petros, this is your old fault; you are ever too cunning to be wise. You think that you must always lie, and are never courageous enough to be truthful. How can you pretend to me that the Emperor does not mean to have Italy again? Whether he will uphold or overthrow the Queen depends upon whether he thinks he will reach his goal more easily with or without her. What his opinion is I am not to know. But, in spite of all your cunning, the next time we meet I will tell you to your face what he intends to do."

A wicked and bitter smile played upon the amba.s.sador's thin lips.

"Still as proud as ever you were in the schools of logic at Athens," he said spitefully.



"Yes; and at Athens, you know, I was always the first, Procopius the second, and you came third."

Syphax just then entered the room.

"A veiled woman, sir," he said, "awaits you in the Hall of Jupiter."

Glad that the conversation was thus interrupted, for he did not feel capable of arguing with the Prefect, Petros said, with a grin:

"I wish you joy of such an interruption."

"Yes, for your own sake," answered Cethegus, smiling; and left the room.

"You shall one day repent your sarcasm, haughty man!" thought the Byzantine.

In the hall--which received the name of Jupiter from a beautiful statue, sculptured by Glycon of Athens--Cethegus found a woman, clad richly in the Gothic costume. On his entrance, she threw back the cowl of her brown mantle.

"Princess Gothelindis!" cried the Prefect in surprise. "What leads you to me?"

"Revenge!" she answered, in a hoa.r.s.e voice, and advanced towards him.

Her features were sharp, but not plain; she would even have been called beautiful, but that her left eye was utterly destroyed, and the whole of her left cheek disfigured by a long scar. The wound seemed to bleed afresh as her cheeks flushed while p.r.o.nouncing the angry word. Such deadly hatred shone from her grey eye, that Cethegus involuntarily retreated.

"Revenge?" he asked. "On whom?"

"On--of that later. Forgive that I disturb you," she added, composing herself. "Your friend Petros of Byzantium is with you, is he not?"

"Yes; but how do you know?"

"Oh! I saw him enter your door before supper," she answered, with a.s.sumed indifference.

"That is not true," said Cethegus to himself; "for he was brought in by the garden-gate. So they have made an appointment here, and I was not to know it. What can they want with me?"

"I will not keep you long," continued Gothelindis. "I have only one question to ask of you. Answer briefly, 'yes' or 'no.' I have the power to ruin that woman--the daughter of Theodoric--and I have the will. Are you for me in this, or against me?"

"Oh! friend Petros," thought the Prefect. "Now I already know what you intend to do with Amalaswintha. But we will see how far you have gone.--Gothelindis," he said aloud, "I readily believe that you wish to ruin the Gothic Queen; but I doubt if you can do so."

"Listen to me, and then decide whether I can or no. The woman has caused the three dukes to be murdered."

Cethegus shrugged his shoulders. "Many people think that."

"But I can prove it."

"You don't say so?" exclaimed Cethegus incredulously.

"Duke Thulun, as you know, did not die immediately. He was attacked on the aemilian Way, near my villa at Tannetum. My husbandmen found him and brought him into my house. You know that he was my cousin--I belong to the Balthe family. He died in my arms."

"Well, and what said the sick man in his fever?"

"Fever! Nothing of the sort! As Duke Thulun fell, he wounded his murderer, who was not able to fly far. My husbandmen sought for him, and found him dying in the nearest wood. He confessed everything to me."

Cethegus imperceptibly compressed his lips.

"Well? What was he? What did he say?"

"He was an Isaurian mercenary," said Gothelindis sharply, "an overlooker of the works on the ramparts at Rome, and he said, 'Cethegus, the Prefect, sent me to the Queen, and the Queen sent me to Duke Thulun!'"

"Who heard his confession besides you?" asked Cethegus.

"No one. And no one shall know of this, if you stand by me. But if not, then----"

"Gothelindis," interrupted the Prefect, "no threats! They are of no use. You must comprehend that they can only aggravate, but not control me. In case of need, I would allow it to come to an open accusation.

You are known as the bitter enemy of Amalaswintha, and your evidence alone--you were imprudent enough to confess that no one else heard the declaration of the dying man--would ruin neither her nor me. You cannot force me to act against the Queen; at the most, you could persuade me, if you can show that it would be to my advantage. And to do this, I myself will propose an ally to you. You certainly know Petros, my friend?"

"Very well; long since."

"Permit me to fetch him to this conference."

He returned to his study.

"Petros, my visitor is the Princess Gothelindis, the wife of Theodahad.

She wishes to speak to both of us. Do you know her?"

"I? oh no. I have never seen her," answered Petros quickly.

"'Tis well; follow me."

As soon as they entered the hall, Gothelindis cried out:

"Welcome, old friend! What a surprising meeting!"

Petros was dumb. Cethegus, his hands clasped behind his back, enjoyed the confusion of the Byzantine.

"Do you see, Petros? always too cunning, always unnecessary subtleties!

But come, do not be so cast down by the discovery of a trick. So you two have combined together for the Queen's ruin. You wish to persuade me to help you. But before doing so, I must know your intentions exactly. Whom will you place upon Amalaswintha's throne? For the way is not yet open for Justinian."

Both were silent for some moments. His clear perception of the situation surprised them. At last Gothelindis spoke:

"Theodahad, my husband, the last of the Amelungs."

"Theodahad, the last of the Amelungs," Cethegus repeated slowly.

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