The Scarlet Banner Part 19

"This man is no coward," replied Gelimer, sadly. "He is wise. Well, then, we will fight alone."

"And invite this wise King Theudis to be our guest at our banquet to celebrate the victory!" exclaimed Hilda.

"Do not challenge Heaven by idle boasting," warned Gelimer. "But be it so. The aid of the Visigoths in the war is of less value to us than to have the Ostrogoths at least remain neutral; to have Sicily--"

"Sicily," interrupted Verus, "if war should be declared, will be the bridge over which the enemy will march into Africa."

The King's eyes opened wider in astonishment; Gibamund started up, but Hilda, turning pale, exclaimed,--

"What? My own people? The daughter of the Amalungi?"

"This letter from the Regent has just arrived; Ca.s.siodorus composed it.

I should know by the scholarly style if he had not affixed his signature. She writes that, too weak to avenge, by her own power, the blood of her father's sister and many thousand Goths, she will joyfully see the vengeance of Heaven executed by her imperial friend in Constantinople."

"The vengeance of Heaven,--retribution," Gelimer repeated in a hollow tone. "All, all, unite in that!"

"What?" cried Gibamund, in an outburst of rage. "Has the learned Ca.s.siodorus grown childish? Justinian, the wily intriguer, an avenging angel of G.o.d! And especially that she-devil, whose name I will not utter in my pure wife's presence! That pair the avengers of G.o.d!"

"That proves nothing," Gelimer murmured, talking to himself as if lost in reverie. "The Fathers of the Church teach that G.o.d often uses evil, sinful men for His deeds of vengeance."

"A wise utterance," said the priest, nodding his head gravely.

"I cannot believe it," cried Gibamund. "Where is the sentence?"

s.n.a.t.c.hing the letter from Verus's hand, he rapidly glanced through it.

"Sicily shall stand open to the Byzantines,--Justinian her only real friend, her protector and gracious defender."

"Ah," cried Hilda, sorrowfully, "does the daughter of the great Theodoric write that?"

"But," Gibamund went on in astonishment, "the sentence about the vengeance of Heaven--it is not here at all--not one word of it."

"Not in the mere wording, but the meaning is there," said the priest, taking the letter again and concealing it in the folds of his robe.

The King had not noticed the incident. He was pacing up and down the s.p.a.cious hall with slow, hesitating steps, talking to himself. Now he again approached the table, saying wearily: "Go on. I suppose this is not all? But the end is coming," he added, unheard by the others.

"Your messenger. King Gelimer, sent to Tripolis to bring Pudentius here to be tried before your tribunal, has returned."

"When did he arrive?"

"Within an hour."

"Without Pudentius?"

"He refuses to obey."

"What? I gave the messenger a hundred hors.e.m.e.n to bring the traitor by force if necessary."

"They were received with a discharge of arrows from the walls.

Pudentius had locked the gates, armed the citizens; the city has forsworn its allegiance to you. The whole province of Tripolitana has also risen, probably relying upon aid from Constantinople. Pudentius called from the battlements to your messenger, 'Now Nemesis is overtaking the b.l.o.o.d.y Vandals.'"

The King made a gesture as if to ward off invisible powers a.s.sailing him.

"Nemesis?" cried Gibamund. "Yes, she will overtake--the traitor. And while such peril threatens us close at hand in Africa itself, we send our best weapon,--the fleet,--the flower of our army, and the hero Zazo to distant Sardinia! How could you counsel that, Verus?"

"Am I omniscient?" replied the priest, shrugging his shoulders. "I told you that the messenger returned from Tripolis only an hour ago."

"Oh, brother, brother," urged Gibamund, "give me two thousand men,--no, only one thousand. I will fly to Tripolis on the wings of the wind and show the faithless wretch Nemesis as she looks in the Vandal dragon helmet."

"Not until Zazo returns," replied the King, who had drawn himself up to his full height. "We will not divide our strength still more. Zazo must come back at once! It was a grave error to send him. I wonder that I did not perceive it. But your counsel, Verus--Hus.h.!.+ That is not meant for a reproach. But a swift sailing s.h.i.+p must follow the fleet instantly to summon it back."

"Too late, my King," cried Gibamund, who had hurried to the arched window. "See how high the sea is running, and from the north! The wind has veered since we came in here, s.h.i.+fted from the southeast to the north. No s.h.i.+p can overtake the fleet which, borne by a strong south wind, has a start of many hours."

"O G.o.d," sighed Gelimer, "even Thy storms are against us. Only--" and again he drew himself up--"who knows whether we may not err in believing the peril so close at hand? Constantinople may send a small body of troops to aid Sardinia, but whether Justinian will really dare to attack us on our own soil here in Africa--"

"Oh, if he would but dare!" cried Gibamund.

Just at that moment a priest--he was a deacon from Verus's basilica--hastened in, and, bowing humbly, handed to his superior a sealed letter, saying: "This has just been brought by a swift-sailing s.h.i.+p from Constantinople." He bowed again and left the hall.

At the first sight of the cord fastening the papyrus Verus started so violently that neither of the three could fail to notice it as extraordinary in the man who, usually possessing almost superhuman self-control, never betrayed his emotion by a glance or even a vehement gesture.

"What fresh misfortune has happened?" cried even the brave Hilda.

"It is the sign agreed upon," said Verus, now gazing at the letter again with such icy calmness that the very transition from such agitation to such composure could not fail to perplex the witnesses afresh. But the little group were not overwhelmed with astonishment long, and waited impatiently while Verus, with a sharp dagger which he drew from the breast of his cloak, severed the brownish-red cord. The pieces, with the dainty little wax-seal fastening them, fell on the floor. Casting a single glance at the letter, the priest instantly handed it, without a word, to Gelimer. The King read,--

"You will receive a visit in Africa; the grain s.h.i.+p has sailed. The Persian merchant is in command."

"This was the agreement between me and my spy in Constantinople: the brownish-red cord means that war is certain; 'visit' is landing; 'grain s.h.i.+p' is the fleet; 'the Persian merchant' is Belisarius."

"Ah, that sounds like a war-song," cried Hilda.

"Welcome, Belisarius," cried Gibamund, grasping his sword.

The King threw the letter on the table. His expression was grave but calm: "Had this paper been in my hand only a day, only a few hours earlier, all would have been different. I thank you, Verus, that you obtained the news today, at least."

An almost imperceptible smile--did it mean pride? or was it flattered vanity?--flickered over the priest's pallid, bloodless lips. "I have old connections in Constantinople; since this danger threatened I have eagerly fostered them."

"Well, then," said the King, "let them come! The decision, the certainty, exerts a soothing, beneficial influence after the long period of suspense. Now there will be work, military work, which always does me good; it prevents pondering, thinking."

"Yes, let them come," cried Gibamund; "they break into our country like robbers, and we will resist them as if they were robbers. What right has the Emperor to interfere with the succession to the Vandal throne?

Right is on our side; G.o.d and victory will also be with us."

"Yes, right is on our side," said the King. "That is my best, my sole support. G.o.d defends the right. He punishes wrong; so He will. He must, be with us."

This praise of justice, and this joyous confidence in their own cause seemed by no means to please the priest. With a gloomy frown on his brow he raised his sharp, penetrating voice, fixing his eyes threateningly on Gelimer,--

"Justice? Who is just in the eyes of G.o.d? The Lord finds sin where we see none. And He punishes not only present--"

At these words the King relapsed into his former mood; his eyes lost the bright sparkle of resolution. But Verus could not finish. A loud noise of voices in angry dispute rose in the corridor leading to the hall.