"Either," eagerly interrupted Silverius, "a special Emperor of the Western Empire----"
"Who, however," said Cethegus, completing the sentence, "would be only a puppet in the hands of the holy Petrus----"
"Or a Roman republic, a State of the Church----"
"In which the Bishop of Rome is master, Italy the principal country, and the barbarian kings in Gaul, Germany, and Spain the obedient sons of the Church. All very fine, my friend. But first the enemy must be annihilated, whose spoils you already divide. Therefore let us drink an old Roman toast: 'Woe to the barbarians!'"
He rose and drank to the priest.
"But," he added, "the last night-watch creeps on, and my slaves must find me in the morning in my bedchamber. Farewell!"
With this he drew the cucullus (hood) of his mantle over his head and departed.
His host looked after him. "A very important tool!" he said to himself. "It is a good thing that he is only a tool. May he always remain so!"
Cethegus walked away from the Via Appia in a north-westerly direction, towards the Capitol, beneath which, at the northern end of the Via Sacra, his house was situated, to the north-east of the Forum Romanum.
The cool morning air played refreshingly over his brow. He threw open his mantle and deeply inflated his strong broad chest.