CHAPTER XXIII.
A few weeks later, we find Cethegus in the well-known room containing the statue of Cæsar, together with our new acquaintance, Petros, the ambassador of the Emperor Justinian, or rather of the Empress.
The two men had shared a simple meal and had emptied a flask of old Massikian together, exchanging reminiscences of past times--they had been fellow-students, as we already know--and had just left the dinner-room for the study of Cethegus, in order, undisturbed by the attendants, to talk over more confidential affairs.
"As soon as I had convinced myself," said Cethegus, concluding his account of late events, "that the alarming reports from Ravenna were only rumours--perhaps inventions, and, at all events, exaggerated--I opposed the utmost coolness to the excitement and zeal of my friends. Lucius Lucinius, with his fiery temper and foolish enthusiasm, almost spoilt everything. He repeatedly demanded that I should accept the office of Dictator, and literally put his sword to my breast, shouting that I should be compelled to serve the fatherland. He let out so many secrets, that it was fortunate the dark Corsican--who seems to stick to the Goths, no one knows why--took him to be more drunk than he really was. At last news came that Amalaswintha had returned, and so people and Senate gradually became more calm."
"And you," said Petros, "have saved Rome for the second time from the revenge of the barbarians--a service which can never be forgotten, and for which all the world, but most of all the Queen, must thank you."
"The Queen--poor woman!" answered Cethegus, shrugging his shoulders. "Who knows how long the Goths, or your imperial master at Byzantium, will leave her upon her throne?"
"What! You mistake entirely!" interrupted Petros eagerly. "My embassy was intended, above all other things, to support her government; and I was just upon the point of asking your advice," he added cunningly, "as to how this can best be done."
But the Prefect leaned back his head against the marble wall, and looked with a smile at the ambassador.
"Oh, Petros! oh, Peter!" he said. "Why so secret? I thought we knew each other better."
"What do you mean?" asked the Byzantine, embarrassed.