The tall, haggard priest who now came slowly into the hall was several
years older than Gelimer. A wide, dark-brown upper garment fell in
mantle-like folds from his broad shoulders: his figure, and still more
his unusually striking face, produced an impression of the most
tenacious will. The features, it is true, were too sharply cut to be
handsome; but no one who saw them ever forgot them. Strongly marked
thick black brows shaded penetrating black eyes, which, evidently by
design, were always cast down; the eagle nose, the firmly closed thin
lips, the sunken cheeks, the pallid complexion, whose dull lustre
resembled light yellow marble, combined to give the countenance
remarkable character. Lips, cheeks, and chin were smoothly shaven, and
so, too, was the black hair, more thickly mingled with gray than seemed
quite suited to his age,--little more than forty years. Each of his
rare gestures was so slow, so measured, that it revealed the rigid
self-control practised for decades, by which this impenetrable man
ruled himself--and others. His voice sounded expressionless, as if from
deep sadness or profound weariness, but one felt that it was repressed;
it was a rare thing to meet his eyes, but they often flashed with a
sudden fire, and then intense passion glowed in their depths. Nothing
that passed in this man's soul was recognizable in his features; only
the thin lips, firmly as he closed them, sometimes betrayed by a
slight, involuntary quiver that this rigid, corpse-like face was not a
death-mask.
Gelimer had started up the instant he saw the priest, and now, hurrying
toward him, clasped the motionless figure, which stood with arms
hanging loosely before him, ardently to his heart.
"Verus, my Verus!" he cried, "my guardian angel! And you!--_you_!--they
are trying to make me distrust. Really, brother, the stars would sooner
change from God's eternal order in the heavens than this man fail in
his fidelity to me." He kissed him on the cheek. Verus remained
perfectly unmoved. Zazo watched the pair wrathfully.
"He has more love, more feeling," he muttered, stroking his thick
beard, "for that Roman, that alien, than for--Speak, priest, can you
deny that last Sunday, after midnight, Pudentius--ah, your lips
quiver--Pudentius of Tripolis was secretly admitted by you through the
little door in the eastern gate and received in your house, beside your
basilica? Speak!"
Gelimer's eyes rested lovingly on his friend, and, smiling faintly, he
shook his head. Verus was silent.
"Speak," Zazo repeated. "Deny it if you dare. You did not suspect that
I was watching in the tower after I had relieved the guard. I had long
suspected the gate-keeper; he was once a slave of Pudentius. You bought
and freed him. Do you see, brother? He is silent! I will arrest him at
once. We will search for secret letters his house, his chest, the
altars, the sarcophagi of his church, nay, even his clothes."
Now Verus's black eyes suddenly blazed upon the bold soldier, then
after a swift side-glance at Gelimer were again bent calmly on the
floor.
"Or do you deny it?"
"No," fell almost inaudibly from the scarcely parted lips.
"Do you hear that, brother?"
Gelimer hastily advanced a step nearer to Verus.
"It was to tell you this that I requested an immediate interview," said
the latter, quietly, turning his back on Zazo.
"That's what I call presence of mind!" cried Zazo, laughing loudly.
"But how will you prove it?"
"I have brought the proof that Pudentius is a traitor," Verus went on,
turning to Gelimer, without paying the slightest attention to his
accuser. "Here it is."
He slowly threw back his cloak, passed his hand through the folds of
his under garment, and after a short search drew from his breast a
small, crumpled strip of papyrus, which he handed to Gelimer, who
hurriedly unfolded it, and read,--
"In spite of your warning, we shall persist. Belisarius is perhaps
already on the way. Give this to the King."
Both Vandals were startled.
"That letter?" asked Gelimer.
"Was written by Pudentius."
"To whom?"
"To me."
"Do you hear, brother?" exclaimed Zazo.
"He betrays--"
"The betrayers," Verus interrupted. "Yes, Gelimer, I have acted while
you were hesitating, pondering, and this brave fool was sleeping,
or--blustering. You remember, long ago I warned you that the King and
his nephews were negotiating with Constantinople."
"Did he do so really, brother?" asked Zazo, eagerly.
"Long ago. And repeatedly."
Zazo shook his brown locks, angry, wondering, incredulous. But he said
firmly,--
"Then forgive me, priest,--if I have really done you injustice."
"Pudentius," Verus continued, without replying, "was, I suspected, the
go-between. I gained his confidence."
"That is, you deceived him--as you are perhaps deluding us," muttered
Zazo.
"Silence, brother!" Gelimer commanded imperiously.
"It was not difficult to convince him. My family, like his, had by your
kings--" he interrupted himself abruptly. "I expressed my anguish; I
condemned your cruelty."
"With justice! Woe betide us, with justice!" groaned Gelimer, striking
his brow with his clenched fist.
"I said that my friendship for you was not so strong as my resentment
for all my kindred. He initiated me into the conspiracy. I was
startled; for, in truth, unless God worked a miracle to blind him, the
Vandal kingdom was hopelessly lost. I warned him--to gain time until
your return--of the cruel vengeance you would take upon all Romans if
the insurrection should be suppressed. He hesitated, promised to
consider everything again, to discuss the matter once more with the
King. There--this note, brought to me by a stranger to-day in the
basilica, contains the decision. Act quickly, or it may be too late."
Gelimer gazed silently into vacancy. But Zazo drew his sword and was
rushing from the hall.
"Where are you going?" asked the priest, in a low tone, seizing his
arm. The grasp was so firm, so powerful, that the Vandal could not
shake it off.
"Where? To the King! To cut down the traitor and his allies! Then
assemble the army and--Hail to King Gelimer!"
"Silence, madman!" cried the latter, startled, as if his most secret
wish were revealed to him, "you will stay here! Would you add to all
the sins which already burden the Vandal race--especially our
generation--the crime of dethronement, regicide, the murder of a
kinsman? Where is the proof of Hilderic's guilt? Was my long-cherished
distrust not merely the fruit, but the pretext,--inspired by my own
impatient desire for the throne? Pudentius may lie--exaggerate. Where
is the proof that treason is planned?"
"Will you wait till it has succeeded?" cried Zazo, defiantly.
"No! But do not punish till it is proved."
"There speaks the Christian," said the priest, approvingly.--"But the
proof must be quickly produced: this very day. Listen, I have reason to
believe that Pudentius is in the city now."
"We must have him!" cried Zazo. "Where is he? With the King?"
"They do not work so openly. He steals into the palace only by night.
But I know his hiding-place. In the grove of the Holy Virgin--the warm
baths."
"Send me, brother! Me! I will fly!"
"Go, then," replied Gelimer, waving his hand.
"But do not kill him," the priest called after the hurrying figure.
"No, by my sword! We must have him alive." He vanished down the
corridor.
"Oh, Verus!" Gelimer passionately exclaimed, "you faithful friend!
Shall I owe you the rescue of my people, as well as the deliverance of
my own poor life from the most horrible death?" He eagerly clasped his
hand.
The priest withdrew it.
"Thank God for your own and your people's destiny, not me. I am only
the tool of His will, from the hour I assumed the garb of this
priesthood. But listen: to you alone dare I confide the whole truth;
yonder blockhead would ruin everything by his blind impetuosity. Your
life is threatened. That does not alarm the hero! Yet you must preserve
it for your people. Fall if fall you must, in battle, under the sword
of Belisarius" (Gelimer's eyes sparkled, and a noble enthusiasm
transfigured his face), "but do not perish miserably by murder."
"Murder? Who would--?"
"The King. No, do not doubt. Pudentius told me. The nephews overruled
his opposition. They know that you will baffle their plans so long as
you live. You must never be permitted to become King of the Vandals."
Here the black eyes shot a swift glance, then fell again.
"We shall see!" cried Gelimer, wrathfully. "I _will_ be King, and
woe--"
Here he stopped suddenly. His breath came and went quickly. After a
pause, repressing his vehemence, he asked humbly,--
"Is this ambition a sin, my brother?"
"You have a right to the crown," the other answered quietly. "If you
should die, then, according to Genseric's law of succession, Hoamer, as
the oldest male scion of the race, would follow. So they have persuaded
the King to invite you on the day of your return to a secret interview
in the palace--entirely alone--and there murder you."
"Impossible, my friend. I have already seen the King. He received me
ungraciously, ungratefully; but," he smiled, "as you see, I am still
alive."
"You went to see the King, surrounded by all the leaders of your troops
fully armed. But beware that he does not summon you again alone."
"That would be strange. We discussed every subject of moment."
At that instant steps echoed in the corridor. A negro slave handed
Gelimer a letter. "From the King," he said, and left the hall.
The hero tore the cord that fastened the little wax tablet, glanced at
the contents, and turned pale.
It is true. Come at the tenth hour in the evening to my sleeping room,
with no companion. I have a secret matter to discuss with you.
HILDERIC.
"You see--"
"No, no! I will not believe it. It may be accident. Hilderic is weak;
he hates me; but he is no murderer."
"So much the better if Pudentius lied. But it is the duty of the friend
to warn. Do not go there!"
"I must! I fear for myself? Does my Verus know me so little?"
"Then do not go alone. Take Zazo with you, or Gibamund."
"Impossible, against the King's command! And no one is permitted to
have a private interview with the King except unarmed."
"Well, then, at least wear _under_ your robe the cuirass, which will
protect you from a dagger-thrust. And the short-sword? Cannot you
conceal it in your sleeve or girdle?"
"Over-anxious friend!" said Gelimer, smiling. "But for your sake I will
put on the cuirass."
"That is not enough for me. However, I will consider; there is one way
of helping you in case of need. Yes, that will do."
"What do you mean?"
"Hush! I will pray that my thoughts may be fulfilled. You, too, my
brother, pray. For you, we all, are to meet great dangers; and God
alone sees the--"
Here he stopped suddenly, clasped both hands around his head, and with
a hoarse cry sank upon the couch.
"Alas, Verus!" exclaimed Gelimer. "Are you faint?" Hastily seizing the
mixing vessel, he sprinkled water on the insensible man's face, and
rubbed his hands.
The priest opened his eyes again, and by a great effort, sat erect.
"Never mind; it is over! But the strain of this hour--was probably--too
much. I will go--no, I need no support--to the basilica, to pray. Send
Zazo there as soon as he returns--before you go to the King; do you
hear? God grant my ardent desire!"