"In the little chapel with Verus. He is praying."
The words fell harshly from her lips.
"And my brother?" asked Gundomar. "How is his shoulder?"
"I cut the arrow-head out. He is doing well; he is in command of the guards. But the King, too, is wounded."
"What?" asked both the men, in startled tones. "He said nothing of it."
"He is ashamed--for his people. No foe; flying Vandals whom he stopped and tried to turn hacked his arm with their daggers."
"Dogs," cried Gundomar, grinding his teeth; but Gibamund sighed.
"Gundobad, who witnessed it, told me; I examined the arm; there is no danger."
"And Eugenia?" he asked after a pause.
"She is lying in the next house as if stupefied. When she heard of her husband's death, she cried: 'To him! Into his grave! Sigrun--' (I once told her the legend of Helgi) and tried to rush madly away. But she sank fainting in my arms. Even after she had recovered her senses, she lay on the couch as if utterly crushed. 'To him! Sigrun--into his grave!--I am coming, Thrasaric!' was all that she would answer to my questions. She tried to rise to obtain more news, but could not, and I sternly forbade her to attempt it again. I will tell her cautiously all that it is well for her to know--no more. But speak, Gundomar, if you can; I know all the rest--except how Ammata, how Thrasaric--"