’Where Basil may be I know not.  If he is still at Asculum many days must pass before a summons from me could bring him hither.  He may already be on his way to join the king, as I bade him in my last message.  The uncertainty, the danger of this situation, can be met only in one way.  On leaving Rome I saw my duty plain before me.  A desire to pleasure my friend made me waver, but I was wrong—­if Basil is to have Veranilda for his bride he can only receive her from the hands of Totila.  Anything else would mean peril to the friend I love, and disrespect, even treachery, to the king I honour.  And so it shall be; I will torment myself no more.’

He hastened back into the villa, summoned Sagaris, and bade him be ready in half an hour to set forth on a journey of a day or two.  He then wrote a brief letter to the king of the Goths.  It was in the Gothic tongue, such Gothic as a few Romans could command for everyday use.  Herein he told that Veranilda, intrusted to him by the deacon Leander to be conducted to the king’s camp, had arrived in safety at his villa by Arpinum.  The country being disturbed, he had thought better to wait here with his charge until he could learn the king’s pleasure, which he begged might be made known to him as soon as possible.

‘This,’ he said, when Sagaris appeared before him equipped for travel, ’you will deliver into the king’s own hands.  At Aquinum you will be directed to his camp, which cannot be far beyond.  Danger there is none between here and there.  Make your utmost speed.’

Many were the confidential missions which Sagaris had discharged; yet, looking now into his man’s face, the master was troubled by a sudden misgiving.  The state of his own mind disposed him to see peril everywhere.  At another time he would not have noted so curiously a sort of gleam in the Syrian’s eye, a something on the fellow’s cunning, sensual lips, which might mean anything or nothing.  Did Sagaris divine who the veiled lady was?  From the bishop’s man he could not have learned it, they themselves, as the bishop had assured Marcian, being totally ignorant in the matter.  If he guessed the truth, as was likely enough after all the talk he had heard concerning Veranilda, was it a danger?  Had Sagaris any motive for treachery?

‘Listen,’ continued Marcian, in a tone such as he had never before used with his servant, a tone rather of entreaty than of command.  ’Upon the safe and swift delivery of that letter more depends than you can imagine.  You will not lack your reward.  But not a word to any save the king.  Should any one else question you, you will say that you bear only a verbal message, and that you come direct from Rome.’

‘My lord shall be obeyed,’ answered the slave, ’though I die under torture.’

‘Of that,’ said Marcian, with a forced laugh, ’you need have no fear.  But, hark you!’ He hesitated, again searching the man’s countenance.  ’You might chance to meet some friend of mine who would inquire after me.  No matter who it be—­were it even the lord Basil—­you will answer in the same words, saying that I am still in Rome.  You understand me?  Were it even lord Basil who asked?’