"I will not dispute about that," answered Cethegus with a smile; "only I should like to preserve my fatherland from _your_ tyrant." "I don't blame you for it," said Procopius, smiling also; "the blessings of our rule are--stifling." "A native governor under the protection of Byzantium will suffice at first." "To be sure. And his name would be--Cethegus!" "If it must be so--that too." "Listen," said Procopius earnestly, "I would only advise you against _one_ thing. The air of Rome engenders proud plans. There, as master of Rome, a man is not willing to be only the second in the world. And believe the historian--nothing more can come of the universal Empire of Rome." Cethegus felt annoyed. He thought of King Theodoric's warning. "Historicus of Byzantium, I know my Roman affairs better than you. First let me initiate you into our Roman secrets; then, early to-morrow, before the embassy arrives from Rome, procure me an interview with Belisarius, and--be sure of a great success." And he now began to unfold to the astonished Procopius, in rapid outlines, the secret history of the latest times and his plans for the future, wisely veiling his ultimate aim. "By the manes of Romulus!" cried Procopius, when he had finished, "you still make history on the Tiber. Well, here is my hand. You shall have my assistance. Belisarius shall win, but not rule in Italy. Let us empty a flask of dry 'Sallustius' upon it!" Early the next day Procopius brought about an interview with Belisarius, from which his friend returned well contented. "Have you told him everything?" asked the historian. "Not quite everything," said Cethegus with a sly smile; "one must always keep something to say in reserve." CHAPTER XI. Shortly afterwards the whole camp was full of strange excitement. The report of the approach of the Holy Father, which outsped his gilded litter, aroused thousands of soldiers, attracted by feelings of reverence, piety, superstition, or curiosity, from sleep, feasting, or gaming. The captains could scarcely keep the sentries at their posts or the soldiers at their drill. The faithful had hurried to meet the Pope from places miles distant, and now, mixed with groups of country people from the neighbourhood, accompanied the procession into the camp. The peasants and soldiers had already harnessed themselves to the litter instead of the mules which drew it--in vain had the Pope modestly remonstrated--and shouting in exultation: "Hail to the Bishop of Rome, hail to the holy Petros!" the crowd, upon whom Silverius continually bestowed blessings, entered the camp. No one noticed his two colleagues, Scævola and Albinus. Belisarius gravely observed the imposing spectacle from his tent. "The Prefect is right!" he cried; "this priest is more dangerous than the Goths! Procopius, dismiss the Byzantine body-guard at my tent, as soon as the interview begins. Let the Huns and the heathen Gepidæ take their place."