"Verus!" groaned the King. "God has abandoned me; my guardian spirit has betrayed me. I am condemned on earth, and in the world beyond the grave. I can do nothing else!"
"Yes. Here, Gelimer, here is your sharp sword."
Stooping, she tore it from the sheath which lay with the sword-belt at the foot of the steps.
"'The dead are free' is a good motto."
But Gelimer shook his head.
"Vanity. Pride of heart. Pagan sin. I am a Christian. I will not kill myself. I will bear my cross--as Christ bore His--until I sink beneath it."
Hilda flung the sword clanking at his feet and turned from him without a word.
"Where are you going? What do you mean to do?"
"Do you suppose I loved less truly and deeply and fervently than that delicate Greek child? I come, my hero and my husband."
She walked across to a building now turned into a stable, the former curia of Medenus, where, a short time before, many horses had stamped. Only Styx, the stallion, now stood in it. Hilda grasped his mane, and the wise, faithful animal followed like a lamb. The Princess went with the horse to the hut. It hung back a moment before following her into the narrow inclosure, which was dimly lighted by a pine torch in an iron ring by the door.