Veranilda Part 37

'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 G.o.d!' he exclaimed in a voice of sudden pa.s.sion, 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 friends.h.i.+p. 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 G.o.d 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 pa.s.sed 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 G.o.d 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 G.o.d.'

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 d.a.m.ning 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 pa.s.sed 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 hors.e.m.e.n 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.