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.