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CHAPTER XXVI

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All necessary measures had been taken for the escape of the King.

Rauthgundis and Wachis had made themselves thoroughly acquainted with the pine-grove where the faithful freedman was to wait with the charger of Dietrich of Bern.

And it was with the confidence which completed preparations always lend to a stout heart, that Rauthgundis returned to the dwelling of the gaoler.

But she turned pale when the latter rushed to meet her with an air of desperation, and dragged her across the threshold.

Once in the room, he threw himself on his knees before her, beating his breast with his fists and tearing his grey hair.

For some time he could find no words.

"Speak," cried Rauthgundis, pressing her hand to her wildly-beating heart. "Is he dead?"

"No; but flight is impossible! all is lost! all is lost! An hour ago the Prefect came, and went down to the King. As usual, I opened both doors for him, the passage and the prison door, and then——"

"Well?"

"Then he took both keys from me, saying he would keep them in future himself."

"And thou gavest them up!" said Rauthgundis, grinding her teeth.

"How could I refuse? I did all I could. I kept them back and asked: 'Master, do you no longer trust me?' He looked at me with a look that seemed to pierce soul and body. 'From this moment,' he said, 'no longer,' and snatched the keys from my hand."

"And thou didst not prevent him?"

"Oh, mistress, you are unjust! What could you have done in my place? Nothing!"

"I should have strangled him. And now? What shall we do now?"

"Do? Nothing! Nothing can be done!"

"He must be liberated. Dost thou hear? he must!"

"But, mistress, I know not how."

Rauthgundis caught up an axe which lay near the hearth.

"We will open the doors by force."

Dromon tried to take the axe from her hand.

"It is impossible! They are thickly plated with iron."

"Then send for the monster! Tell him that Witichis desires to speak with him, and I will strike him down at the passage door."

"And then? You rave! Let me go out. I will call Wachis away from his useless watch."

"No! I cannot think that we shall not succeed. Perhaps that devil will return of his own accord. Perhaps—" she continued reflectively—"Ha!" she cried suddenly, "it must be so. He wants to murder him! He intends to steal alone to the defenceless prisoner. But woe to him if he come! I will guard the threshold of that door as if it were a sanctuary, and woe to him if he cross it!"

She leaned heavily against the half-door of the room, and swung the ponderous axe.

But Rauthgundis was wrong.

Not to kill his prisoner had the Prefect taken the keys into his own keeping.

He had gone with them in his hand to the south side of the palace, where he gained admittance to Mataswintha's room.

The stillness of death and the excitement of fever alternated so rapidly in Mataswintha, that Aspa could never look at her mistress without the tears rushing to her eyes.

"Most beautiful daughter of the Germans," began the Prefect, "dissipate the cloud which rests upon your white brow, and listen to me calmly."

"How is the King? You leave me without news. You promised to let him go free when all was decided. You promised that he should be taken over the Alps. You have not kept your word."

"I promised it on two conditions. You know them well, and you have not yet done your part. Tomorrow the nephew of the Emperor will return from Ariminum, ready to take you to Byzantium, and I desire you to give him hopes that you will become his bride. Your marriage with Witichis was forced and null."

"No, never! I have told you so before."

"I am sorry for it, for the sake of my prisoner, for he will not see the light of day again until you are on the way to Byzantium with Germanus."

"Never!"

"Do not irritate me, Mataswintha. The folly of the girl who bought the Ares' head at such a high price, is, I think, outgrown. For that once enamoured being has since sacrificed the Ares of the Goths to his enemies. But if you still honour that dream of girlhood, then save the man you once loved."

Mataswintha shook her head.

"Until now I have treated you as a free agent, as a Queen. Do not remind me that you, as well as he, are in my power. You will become the wife—soon the widow—of this noble Prince—and Justinian—Byzantium—the whole world, will lie at your feet. Daughter of the Amelungs, is it possible that you do not love power?"

"I only love—— Never!"

"Then I must force you."

She laughed.

"You? Force me?"

"Yes, I force you! (She still loves the man she has ruined!) The second condition is this: that the prisoner fill up this empty space with a name—the name of the castle in which the treasure of the Goths is concealed—and sign the declaration. He refuses to do this with a stubbornness which begins to anger me. Seven times I, the conqueror, have been to him. He would never yet speak to me. And the first time I went I received a look for which alone he deserves to lose his haughty head."

"He will never consent!"

"That remains to be seen. The continual dropping of water wears away a stone at last. But I can wait no longer. Early to-day I received word that that mad Hildebad, in a furious sally, has beaten Bessas so thoroughly, that the latter can scarcely continue the siege. Everywhere the Goths rebel. I must go and make an end of it, and extinguish these last sparks with the water of deception, which is better than blood. To this end I must have the King's declaration, and the secret of the castle. Therefore I tell you that if, before to-morrow, you do not consent to accompany the Prince to Byzantium, and have not procured for me the signature of the prisoner, witnessed as such by yourself, I will—I swear by the Styx—kill——"

Horrified at the awful expression of Cethegus's face, Mataswintha started from her seat and grasped his arm.

"You will not kill him!"

"Yes; or rather, I will first torture him, then blind him, and afterwards kill him!"

"No! no!" screamed Mataswintha.

"I am resolved. The executioners are ready. And you, you shall tell him this. He will believe that I am in earnest when he sees your despair. You will perhaps be able to soften him; the sight of me only hardens him. Perhaps he thinks that he is still in the hands of Belisarius, that tender-hearted hero. You will tell him in whose power he really is. Here are the documents—here the keys which open his prison. You shall choose the hour yourself."

A ray of joyful hope shone from Mataswintha'a eyes. Cethegus failed not to remark it, but, smiling calmly, he left the room.

A Struggle for Rome, Vol. III

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