English fiction -- 19th century; Historical fiction; Italy -- History -- 476-774 -- Fiction
'I had not thought of Petronilla,' he murmured. 'But for her, the
danger was not pressing. That thick-skulled Hun at Cumae easily let
himself be blinded, as I told you.'
'How could I forget,' cried Basil, 'that Petronilla would risk
damnation rather than lose her vengeance upon Aurelia But,' he added,
with sudden change from gloom to vehemence, 'that woman is not beyond
our reach. Only yesterday did she set forth for Rome, and she may have
passed the night at Neapolis. A horseman will easily overtake her.
Felix!' he shouted. 'Our horses!--she shall pay for this if my hands
can get at her throat!'
Felix appeared, but not in answer to his master's summons; he came
precipitately, followed by a swarm of frightened slaves, to announce
another surprise. Before the villa stood a hostile multitude, folk of
Surrentum, who demanded admittance, and, if denied, would enter by
force. At this news Venantius hastened to muster his troop of archers
and spearmen. Basil and Marcian, having made sure that all entrances
were locked and barred, went to the front gate, and through a wicket
surveyed the assailants. These seemed to be mainly of the baser class;
they had armed themselves with all sorts of rude weapons, which they
brandished menacingly, shouting confused maledictions. From the porter
Basil learned that those who had first presented themselves at the door
had demanded that 'the heretics' should be given up to them; and by
listening to the cries, he understood that the wrath of these people
was directed against the Arian servants brought hither by Aurelia.
Through the wicket he held colloquy with certain leaders of the throng.
'The heretics! Yield to us the accursed heretics!' shouted a burly
fellow armed with an ox-goad.
'For what usage?' asked Basil.
'That's as they choose. If they like to come before the bishop and turn
Christian--why, a little correction shall suffice. If not, they have
only themselves and the devil to blame.'
By this time Venantius and his retainers stood in the forecourt. To
him, the routing of such a rabble seemed a task not worth speaking of,
but some few would no doubt be slain, and Basil shrank from such
extremities.
'Would you give up these trembling wretches?' asked Venantius
scornfully, pointing to the four slaves, male and female, Arians either
by origin or by conversion to please Aurelia, whom she had brought from
Cumae. On their knees they were imploring protection.
'Nay, I will fight for their safety,' Basil answered. 'But if we can
frighten off this tag-rag without bloodshed so much the better.'
Venantius consented to make the attempt. On the upper villa was an open
gallery looking over the entrance, and fully visible from where the
invaders stood. Hither the armed men ascended and stood in line, the
bowmen with arrows on string. Their lord, advancing to the parapet,
made a signal demanding silence, and spoke in a audible to every ear in
the throng.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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