"You here, Prefect of Rome? The war has ended very differently to what we expected! However, you may be satisfied. At least no Grecian Emperor, no Justinian, will rule over your Rome." "And shall not, as long as I live." "I come, King of the Goths," interrupted Bessas, "to lay before you the treaty with Belisarius, in order that you may sign it." "I have already done so." "It is the duplicate intended for my master." "Then give it me," said Witichis, and stretched out his hand to take it. But before he could do so, Duke Guntharis hurried into the room with the attendant. "Witichis," he cried, "the royal insignia have disappeared!" "What sayest thou?" asked Witichis. "Hildebad alone kept the key!" "The golden chest and other chests are gone. Within the empty niche, where they usually stood, lay this strip of parchment. The characters are those of Hildebad's secretary." The King took it and read: "'Crown, helm and sword, purple and shield of Theodoric are in my care. If Belisarius will have them, he may fetch them.' The Runic character H-- for Hildebad!" "He must be followed until he yield them up," cried Cethegus. At this moment Demetrius and Johannes hurried in. "Make haste. King Witichis," they cried. "Do you hear the trumpets? Belisarius has already reached the Gate of Stilicho." "Then let us go," said Witichis, allowing his attendant to place the purple mantle, which they had brought instead of the missing one, upon his shoulders, and pressing a golden coronet upon his head. Instead of the sword, a sceptre was handed to him; and thus adorned, he turned to the door. "You have not yet signed, King," said Bessas. "Give it to me," and now Witichis took the parchment from the hand of the Byzantine. "The document is very long," he said, glancing over it; and then began to read. "Haste, King," said Johannes. "There is no time to read it," said Cethegus, with an indifferent voice, and took a reed-pen from the table. "Then there is no time to sign it," said the King. "You know I am the '_Peasant_-King,' as the people call me. And a peasant never signs a letter before he has read to what he commits himself. Let us go," and, smiling, he gave the document to the Prefect and left the room. Bessas and all present followed, except Cethegus. Cethegus crushed the document in his hand. "Wait!" he whispered furiously. "You shall yet sign!" And he slowly followed the others. The hall leading to the King's apartment was already empty. The Prefect went into the vaulted gallery which ran round the quadrangle of the first story of the palace. The Byzantine-Roman arches afforded a free outlook into the large courtyard. It was filled with armed men. At all the four doors were placed the Persian lance-bearers of Belisarius. Cethegus leaned against an archway and, watching the course of events, spoke to himself.