"Are they feared?"
"There is no cause to fear them."
"Are they loved?"
Gladly would the Prefect have replied, "There is no cause to love them;" but the King himself continued:
"So there is no trace of discontent? No cause for uneasiness? Nothing particular in preparation?"
"I have nothing to communicate."
"Then you are badly informed, Prefect of Rome, or badly disposed! What? must I--who have scarcely risen from my sick-bed here at Ravenna--tell you what happens in Rome under your very eyes? The workmen on your bulwarks sing satirical songs against the Goths, against the Queen, against me. Your legions use threatening words while practising the use of their arms. Most probably there exists already a widespread conspiracy, with senators and priests at its head. They assemble by night in secret places. An accomplice of Boëthius, a banished man, Albinus, has been seen in Rome, and do you know where? In the garden of your house."
All eyes--either in astonishment, rage, or fear--were fixed upon Cethegus. Amalaswintha trembled for the object of her trust. But he was now quite himself again. Quiet, cool, and silent, he looked full at the King.
"Justify yourself!" exclaimed the King.
"Justify myself? Against a shadow, a report? Against an accusation without accusers? Never!"