"We shall know how to force you."
The Prefect's thin lips curled with contempt.
"I may be murdered upon mere suspicion, without doubt--we Italians have experienced such a thing--but not condemned. There can be no justification opposed to force."
"Justice shall be done, doubt it not. We charge all Romans present with the examination, and leave the sentence to the Roman Senate. Choose a defender."
"I defend myself," said Cethegus coolly. "What is the accusation? Who is my accuser? Where is he?"
"Here!" cried the King, and threw back the curtain.
A Gothic warrior, in a full suit of black armour, stepped forth. We already know him. It was Teja.
The Prefect turned away his eyes in deadly hatred.
Teja spoke.
"I, Teja, son of Tagila, accuse thee, Cethegus Cæsarius, of treason against the Goths. I accuse thee of having hidden the banished traitor, Albinus, in thy house in Rome. Death is the penalty. And, besides this, thou art plotting to subject this country to the Emperor of Byzantium."