His uncle made some opposition on the plea of his nephew's youth and yet unconfirmed strength, but that opposition was slight, and soon overcome. There was, indeed, an eagerness, a haste, an impetuosity, in the bishop's whole demeanour, which betokened a keen and ambitious mind struggling with difficulties and dangers which he feared not, but estimated at their true value. He seemed, to the eyes of Theodore, like a skilful swordsman contending with a multitude of enemies, with all his energies awake and active to avoid every blow, to parry every thrust, and to return upon his assailants their strokes with usury.
When at length he consented that his nephew should go, and gave him into the hands of one of the officers, with directions to provide for his repose and refreshment, what was the impression which his uncle's conduct had made upon Theodore's mind? The bishop had been kinder than he expected; he had evinced more affection for his father, more deep love for that dead parent whose memory was enshrined in the heart of Theodore, and revered as the relics of some pure and sainted martyr; he had shown more depth of feeling, and more of the energy of talent, than the youth had been taught to believe he could display; and yet Theodore was not satisfied. The diamond touchstone of a pure and innocent heart, without an analysis, without minute investigation, detected at once the alloy which ran through the seeming gold: he saw that there was much of goodness, he saw that there was much of power, in his uncle's character; but there wanted the simplicity, the mildness, the humility of the Christian priest: there were strong feelings without strong principles, high talents without high honour, and through all his best and brightest qualities ran a vein of brilliant selfishness, stimulating nearly, in appearance, the more precious things with which it mixed; but, oh! how different in intrinsic value.
[CHAPTER X.]
THE TREASON.
It was night; but no bright moon compensated for the absence of the greater orb, and the air was dark, though the sky itself shone with all its innumerable sparks of golden light. It was one of those nights in which the depth of the heavens becomes apparent, in which each separate star is seen hanging distinct and apart from all the rest, a lamp of everlasting fire in the blue profound of space. The lately troubled waters of the Danube had become clear; and, flowing more calmly, though in a less volume, mirrored the splendid pageantry of heaven's resplendent host.
Within an hour, however, after the full setting of the sun had left the earth to the dominion of the night, another light than that of the stars was reflected from the waters of the rolling stream at the distance of a few miles from the city of Margus. The glare of a multitude of torches flickered over the rolling stream, and cast a red, unpleasing light over the rocks and trees amid which the Roman road was cut from Tricornium to Margus. That light, too, shone upon the anxious and wearied countenances of those who, a little more than a month before, we have seen set out from the spot where all their happy memories were left behind them to wander forward towards lands and fortunes that they knew not.
A change, however, had been effected in the appearance of many of that party. Young as he was, Theodore had shown a wisdom and prudence beyond his years; and as soon as they had lost the escort of the tribune Marcian, on the frontiers of M[oe]sia, he had selected twenty of the most faithful slaves, and had besought Flavia to liberate and arm them. His pretext was that, in approaching the barbarian countries, many dangers lay upon the way; but he did not say that even against the authority of the emperor himself those arms might not be used.
Belated by the length and fatiguing nature of the way, many a timid glance was cast by Ildica and Eudochia towards the opposite bank of the stream, where lay, shrouded in its dark woods, the strange and dangerous country of the Huns. Many an apprehensive inquiry, too, went from lip to lip among the women slaves that followed; and, though each knew that the other was as ignorant of the land through which they were passing as herself, many a time was the question asked, "How far is it now to Margus!" meeting still with the same unsatisfactory reply. At length Theodore, riding up from the rear of the line, where he had remained to see that no one lingered behind, approached the side of the lectula in which Ildica was borne, and said, to the no small joy of all who heard him, "Lo! the arch of Trajan. To Margus is but one short mile."
That mile was soon accomplished; and at the gates of the city they were met by persons sent on purpose to welcome them, both by the magistrates and by the bishop of the town. Such friendly greeting in such a remote spot, the sight of a populous and wealthy city, the cheerful sounds and objects which met the ear and eye in the streets, served to revive hope in the bosoms of that weary and anxious train, and to recall the images of warm domestic tranquillity, which had been banished during their dreary journey of the last two days: a house had been prepared for them not far from the dwelling of the bishop, and they found, waiting their arrival, all those ready luxuries which the skill and ingenuity of the most pleasure-loving nation upon earth had devised in the most voluptuous period of the world's history. Baths were prepared; wine-cups crowned with garlands, and delicacies from remote lands, waited for the lip; the softest triclinia surrounded the already spread table; and the sound of sweet music was breathing through the atrium: odours floated on the air; lights blazed through the halls; and when at length Flavia, Ildica, Eudochia, Theodore, and Ammian stood in the midst of that enchanted scene--far from their enemies, with a place of certain refuge close at hand, and the long, weary, perilous journey accomplished behind them--feelings of joy and thankfulness, great, irrepressible, overpowering, welled up from the deep fountain of the heart, and, casting themselves into each other's arms, they wept.
Many moments passed in those entrancing feelings; but when, at length, the bishop appeared to bid them welcome to a city over which his eloquence and powers of mind had given him greater influence than even the representative of the imperial authority possessed, Flavia had again resumed her calm and tranquil dignity. He would not sit down to meat with the guests for whose entertainment he had provided so sumptuously, affecting an abstinence which might or might not be habitual; but he insisted upon waiting in a neighbouring chamber while they supped, declaring that he had matter of some moment to communicate to the Lady Flavia. Simple in her habits, and encouraging simplicity in her children, Flavia was soon prepared to give the prelate that private hearing which he desired. He led her accordingly into another chamber, while Ammian sported with Eudochia; and Theodore, seated beside Ildica, tasted once more the sweet moments of love.