"I cannot believe it," cried Gibamund. "Where is the sentence?" Snatching the letter from Verus's hand, he rapidly glanced through it. "Sicily shall stand open to the Byzantines,--Justinian her only real friend, her protector and gracious defender." "Ah," cried Hilda, sorrowfully, "does the daughter of the great Theodoric write that?" "But," Gibamund went on in astonishment, "the sentence about the vengeance of Heaven--it is not here at all--not one word of it." "Not in the mere wording, but the meaning is there," said the priest, taking the letter again and concealing it in the folds of his robe. The King had not noticed the incident. He was pacing up and down the spacious hall with slow, hesitating steps, talking to himself. Now he again approached the table, saying wearily: "Go on. I suppose this is not all? But the end is coming," he added, unheard by the others. "Your messenger. King Gelimer, sent to Tripolis to bring Pudentius here to be tried before your tribunal, has returned." "When did he arrive?" "Within an hour." "Without Pudentius?" "He refuses to obey." "What? I gave the messenger a hundred horsemen to bring the traitor by force if necessary." "They were received with a discharge of arrows from the walls. Pudentius had locked the gates, armed the citizens; the city has forsworn its allegiance to you. The whole province of Tripolitana has also risen, probably relying upon aid from Constantinople. Pudentius called from the battlements to your messenger, 'Now Nemesis is overtaking the bloody Vandals.'" The King made a gesture as if to ward off invisible powers assailing him. "Nemesis?" cried Gibamund. "Yes, she will overtake--the traitor. And while such peril threatens us close at hand in Africa itself, we send our best weapon,--the fleet,--the flower of our army, and the hero Zazo to distant Sardinia! How could you counsel that, Verus?" "Am I omniscient?" replied the priest, shrugging his shoulders. "I told you that the messenger returned from Tripolis only an hour ago." "Oh, brother, brother," urged Gibamund, "give me two thousand men,--no, only one thousand. I will fly to Tripolis on the wings of the wind and show the faithless wretch Nemesis as she looks in the Vandal dragon helmet." "Not until Zazo returns," replied the King, who had drawn himself up to his full height. "We will not divide our strength still more. Zazo must come back at once! It was a grave error to send him. I wonder that I did not perceive it. But your counsel, Verus--Hush! That is not meant for a reproach. But a swift sailing ship must follow the fleet instantly to summon it back." "Too late, my King," cried Gibamund, who had hurried to the arched window. "See how high the sea is running, and from the north! The wind has veered since we came in here, shifted from the southeast to the north. No ship can overtake the fleet which, borne by a strong south wind, has a start of many hours."