Cethegus came close to her.
"As soon as you wish it--they shall never return."
The woman trembled:
"Murder? Terrible man, of what are you thinking?"
"Of what is necessary. Murder is a wrong expression. It is self-defence. Or a punishment. If you had now the power, you would have a perfect right to kill them. They are rebels. They force your royal will. They kill your Navarchus; they deserve death."
"And they shall die," whispered Amalaswintha to herself, clenching her fist; "they shall not live, these brutal men, who force a Queen to do their behest. You are right--they shall die!"
"They must die--they and," he added in a tone of intense hatred, "and--the young hero!"
"Wherefore Totila? He is the handsomest and most valiant youth in the nation!"
"He dies!" growled Cethegus. "Oh that he would die ten times over!" And such bitter hatred flamed from his eyes, that, suddenly seen in a man of such a cold nature, it both startled and terrified Amalaswintha.
"I shall send you from Rome," he continued rapidly in a low tone, "three trusty men, Isaurian mercenaries. These you will send after the three Balthes, as soon as they have reached their several camps. You understand that you, the Queen, send them; for they are executioners, no murderers. The three dukes must fall on the same day--I myself will care for handsome Totila--the bold stroke will alarm the whole nation. During the first consternation of the Goths I will hurry here from Rome, with troops, to your aid. Farewell."