"You shall have it, doubt it not! But I will not venture to judge in this case. Only the wisdom of Emperor Justinian himself can here decide upon what is right. Vulkaris, my faithful Herulian! I herewith deliver into your keeping the person of the Bishop of Some. You will at once take him on board a vessel, and conduct him to Byzantium!" "I put in a protest!" cried Silverius. "No one on earth can try me but a council of the orthodox Church. I demand to be taken to Rome." "Rome you will never see again. And Emperor Justinian, who is justice itself, will decide upon your protest with Trebonianus. But I think your companions, Scævola and Albinus, the false accusers of the Prefect (who has proved himself to be the best and warmest friend of the Emperor), highly suspicious. Let Justinian decide how far they are innocent. Take them too, Vulkaris, take them in chains to Byzantium. By sea. Now take them out by the back door of the tent, not through the camp. Vulkaris, this priest is the Emperor's _worst_ enemy. You will answer for him with your head!" "I will answer for him," said the gigantic Herulian, coming forward and laying his mailed hand upon the Bishop's shoulder.--"Away with you, priest! On board! He shall die, ere I will let him escape." Silverius saw that further resistance would only excite compulsion dangerous to his dignity. He submitted, and walked beside the German, who did not withdraw his hand, towards the door in the back of the tent, which was opened by a sentry. The Bishop was obliged to pass close to Cethegus. He lowered his head and did not look at him, but he heard a voice whisper: "Silverius, this moment repays me for your victory in the Catacombs. Now we are quits!" CHAPTER XII. As soon as the Bishop had left the tent, Belisarius rose eagerly from his seat, hurried to the Prefect, and embraced him. "Accept my thanks, Cethegus Cæsarius! Your reward will not be wanting. I will tell the Emperor that for him you have to-day saved Rome." But Cethegus smiled. "My acts reward themselves." The intellectual struggle, the rapid alternation of anger, fear, anxiety, and triumph had exhausted the hero Belisarius more than half a day of battle. He longed for rest and refreshment, and dismissed his generals, none of whom left the tent without speaking a word of acknowledgment to the Prefect. The latter saw that his superiority was felt by all, even by Belisarius. It pleased him that, in one and the same hour, he had ruined the scheming Bishop and humbled the proud Byzantines. But he did not idly revel in the feeling of victory. He knew the danger of sleeping upon laurels; laurel stupefies. He decided to follow up his victory, to use at once the intellectual superiority over the hero of Byzantium which he undoubtedly possessed at this moment, and to strike his long-prepared and principal blow.