"Here in the camp, in safe keeping."
"And the hostages?"
"They were--Pudentius's son among them--confined in Decimum," Verus answered. "After the lost battle, they were freed by the victors."
"That might be repeated to-morrow," cried Zazo, angrily. "Amid the tumult of conflict, the foe might easily, for a short time, enter this open camp. I entreat, my King--"
"So be it," interrupted the latter, and turning to Verus he ordered: "Have Hilderic and Euages taken away."
"Where?"
"To some safe place where no Byzantine can liberate them."
Verus bowed and hurriedly left the tent.
"I will follow you," the King called after him. "Do not judge me too sternly in your hearts, you thoroughly healthy people," he now added in a gentle voice, turning to the others. "I am a tree blasted by the lightning. But to-morrow," he went on, drawing himself up to his full height, "to-morrow, I hope, you shall be satisfied with me. Even you, Hilda! Send me your little harp; I believe you will not regret it."
Hilda brought the instrument from a corner of the tent. "Here! But you know," she said, smiling, "its strings will break if any one tries to play on them an accompaniment to Latin verses of penitential hymns."