“’Keep these Presents secret and do not act upon them until the ship which brings them and the prisoner to you has sailed for Byzantium, which it is ordered to do as soon as it has been revictualled.  On your head be it to carry out these our commands, for which you shall answer with your life and those of your wife and children.  This signed and sealed at our Court of Byzantium on the twelfth day of the sixth month of the first year of our reign, and countersigned by the high officers whose names appear beneath.’”

Such was this awful letter that, having read, Martina thrust into my hand as though she would be rid of it.  Then followed a silence, which at length Martina broke.

“Your commands, Excellency,” she said in a dry voice.  “I understand that the—­the—­prisoner is in the ante-room in charge of the Captain Jodd.”

“Then let her remain in the charge of the Captain Jodd,” I exclaimed angrily, “and in your charge, Martina, who are accustomed to attending upon her, and know that you are both answerable for her safety with your lives.  Send the captain of the ship to me and prepare a discharge for him.  I will not see this woman till he has sailed, since until then I am commanded to keep all secret.  Send also the head officer of the guard.”

Three days went by.  The Imperial ship had sailed, taking with her my formal acknowledgment of the Emperor’s letter, and the time had come when once more I must meet Irene face to face.

I sat in the audience chamber of my Great House, and there was present with me only Jodd, my lieutenant in office.  Being blind, I dared not receive a desperate woman alone, fearing lest she might stab me or do herself some mischief.  At the door of the chamber Jodd took her from the guards, whom he bade remain within call, and conducted her to where I sat.  He told me afterwards that she was dressed as a nun, a white hood half hiding her still beautiful face and a silver crucifix hanging upon her breast.

As I heard her come I rose and bowed to her, and my first words to her were to pray her to be seated.

“Nay,” she answered in that rich, well-remembered voice of hers, “a prisoner stands before the judge.  I greet you, General Olaf, I pray your pardon—­Michael—­after long years of separation.  You have changed but little, and I rejoice to see that your health is good and that the rank and prosperity which I gave have not been taken from you.”

“I greet you, Madam,” (almost had I said Augusta), I answered, then continued hurriedly:  “Lady Irene, I have received certain commands concerning you from the Emperor Nicephorus which it is best that you should hear, so that you shall hold me quit of blame in aught that it may be my duty to inflict upon you.  Read them, Captain Jodd.  Nay, I forgot, you cannot.  Give the copy of the letter to the Lady Irene; the original she can see afterwards if she wills.”

So the paper was given to her by Jodd, and she read it aloud, weighing each word carefully.