"Yes, she writes Greek to the Emperor, and speaks Latin with the pious Cassiodorus. I doubt that she even thinks in Gothic. Woe to us, if she should hold the rudder in a storm!"
"But I see no signs of storm, old man," laughed the torch-bearer, and shook his locks. "From whence will it blow? The Emperor is again reconciled, the Bishop of Rome is installed by the King himself, the Frank princes are his nephews, the Italians are better off under our shield than ever before. I see no danger anywhere."
"The Emperor Justinus is only a weak old man," said he of the sword, assentingly. "I know him."
"But his nephew, who will soon be his successor, and is already his right arm--knowest thou him? Unfathomable as the night and false as the sea is Justinian! I know him well, and fear that which he meditates. I accompanied the last embassy to Byzantium. He came to our camp; he thought me drunk--the fool! he little knows what Hilding's child can drink!--and he questioned me about everything which must be known in order to undo us. Well, he got the right answer from me! But I know as well as I know my name, that this man will again get possession of Italy; and he will not leave in it even the footprint of a Goth!"
"If he can," grumblingly put in the brother of the fair youth.
"Right, friend Hildebad, if he can. And he can do much. Byzantium can do much."
The other shrugged his shoulder
"Knowest thou how much?" asked the old man angrily. "For twelve long years our great King struggled with Byzantium and did not prevail. But at that time thou wast not yet born," he added more quietly.
"Well," interposed the fair youth, coming to his brother's help, "but at that time the Goths stood alone in the strange land. Now we have won a second half. We have a home--Italy. We have brothers-at-arms--the Italians!"
"Italy our home!" cried the old man bitterly; "yes, that is the mistake. And the Italians our allies against Byzantium? Thou young fool!"