"Wherefore are you come. King of the Goths?"
"Not to ask you how far the Romans may be trusted; and also not to complain that we can trust you so little--you, whom Theodoric and his daughter overwhelmed with benefits--but honestly and simply to arrange a few things with you, for our mutual well-being."
Cethegus was surprised. In the proud frankness of this man lay something which he envied. He would gladly have despised it.
"We shall leave Rome," continued Witichis, "and shortly afterwards the Romans will admit Belisarius. It is sure to be so; I cannot hinder it. I have been advised to take the heads of the aristocracy as hostages."
Cethegus started, and with difficulty hid the movement.
"You before all, the Princeps Senatus."
"Me?" said Cethegus, smiling.
"I shall leave you here. I know well that you are the soul of Rome."
Cethegus cast down his eyes, "I accept the oracle," he thought.
"But for that very reason I leave you here," Witichis continued. "Hundreds who call themselves Romans would like the Byzantines for masters. You--you would not have it."