"Nought, sir, except to deliver this vase to you. See, the seal, the scorpion, is intact." "What shall I do with the vase? I buy no such things." "The vase is yours, sir. It is full of documents and rolls which belong to you. My guest desired me to give it to you. I beg you, take it." And he pressed the vase into Teja's hand, and disappeared amid the crowd. Teja broke the seal indifferently, and took the documents out. Indifferently he looked at them. But suddenly a vivid flush overspread his pale cheeks, his eyes flashed, and he convulsively bit his lip. The vase fell to the ground as he rushed up to Witichis, and said, in an almost toneless voice: "My King! King Witichis, a favour!" "What is it, Teja? For God's sake, what wilt thou?" "Leave of absence! for six--three days! I must go!" "Go? Where?" "To revenge myself! Read--the devil who accused my parents, who drove them to desperation, madness, and death--it is he--whom I long since suspected. Here is his accusation, addressed to the Bishop of Florentia, in his own handwriting--it is Theodahad!" "It is, it is Theodahad," said Witichis, looking up from the letter. "Go, then! But, doubt it not, thou wilt not find him in Rome. He has certainly fled long since. He has had a great start. Thou canst not overtake him!" "I will overtake him, even if he rides on the wings of the storm-eagle!" "Thou wilt not find him!" "I will find him, if I must pluck him from hell's deepest abyss, or from out of the midst of the angels!" "He will have fled with a strong escort," warned Witichis. "I will reach him in the midst of a thousand demons! Hildebad, thy horse! Farewell, King of the Goths. I go to fulfil the ban!" BOOK IV. WITICHIS. "And the Goths chose Witichis for their King, a man of humble origin, but a famous warrior."--_Procopius: Wars of the Goths_, i. 11. PART I. CHAPTER I. Slowly sank the sun behind the green hills of Fæsulæ, and gilded the columns in front of the simple country-house of which Rauthgundis was the mistress. The Gothic servants and Italian slaves were busy concluding the day's work. The stable-man was fetching the young horses from the pasture; two other servants were bringing a herd of fine cattle home from the fields to the stable; while the goatherd, with Roman invectives, was driving forward his _protégés_, which stopped here and there to nibble the salty saxifrage which grew upon the broken walls of the road. Other labourers were housing the agricultural implements in the large yard, and a Roman freedman, a very learned and superior personage, the upper gardener himself, left, with a contented look, the place where he practised his blooming and sweet-scented science. Our little friend Athalwin, with his crown of bright golden hair, was just issuing from the stables.