"And in truth she came dashing among us like the leader of the Valkyries," said Thrasaric, rather to himself than to Eugenia.
"Verus of course knows nothing of that," Hilda went on. "Yet he smiled strangely as he said: 'You are the right bearer of this message and my errand to the King.' I did not linger. I bring you war, and--I feel it, O King of the Vandals--certain victory; read."
Gelimer unrolled the parchment, whose seal had been broken, and motioning to a torch-bearer, read aloud:
"'To Gelimer, who calls himself the King of the Vandals--'"
"Who is the insolent knave?" interrupted Zazo.
"Goda, formerly Governor, now King of Sardinia."
"Goda? The scoundrel! I never trusted him," cried Zazo.
"'Since, by a false accusation, you have dethroned and imprisoned King Hilderic, I refuse you allegiance, usurper. You credulous fools forgot that I am an Ostrogoth; but I never did. Almost the only one left alive in the massacre of my people, I have since thought only of vengeance. In blind confidence you gave me this governorship; but I have won the Sardinians, and shall henceforth rule this island as its sovereign. If you dare to attack me, I shall appeal, and I have received the promise of the great Emperor Justinian's protection. I would far rather serve a powerful Imperator than a Vandal tyrant.'
"Ay, this is war!" said Gelimer, gravely. "Certainly with Sardinia. Perhaps also with Constantinople, though the last letters from there spoke only of peace. Did you hear it?"--he now turned with royal dignity to the nobles. "Did you hear, you nobles and people of the Vandal race? Shall I tell the rebel, shall I write to the Emperor: 'Take and keep whatever you desire! Genseric's descendants shrink from the weight of their weapons'? Will you now continue to hold festivals in the Circus, or will you--"
"We will have war!" loudly shouted the giant Thrasaric, forcing his way swiftly through the group of nobles. "O King Gelimer, your deed, your words, the sight of this glorious woman, and that bold traitor's insolent letter have again waked in me--surely, in us all--what, alas! has slumbered far, far too long. And like the effeminate ornament of these roses,"--he snatched the wreath from his head and hurled it on the ground,--"I cast from me all the enervating, corrupting pleasures and luxuries of life. Forgive me, my King, great King and hero. I will atone. Believe me, I will make amends in battle for the wrongs I have done."