What had passed before needs not description; but at the moment we now speak of a messenger from the weak Theodosius was brought into the presence of the king, with the aspect of a trembling slave approaching an offended master. Attila gazed upon him sternly as he came near; and Theodore felt the indignant blood rush up into his cheeks as he beheld the degradation of his country.
"Art thou of what thy nation calls of patrician rank?" demanded Attila, when the ambassador, with his forehead almost bending to the ground, had approached within two steps of the monarch.
"Alas, no," he answered; "lam but the humblest slave of Attila the King."
"If thou art my slave, thou art happier than I believed thee to be," replied Attila; "for to be the slave of a slave is a humbler rank than any that we know on this side of the Danube. Yet such thou art, if thou art the servant of Theodosius. How dares he," continued the king, fixing his keen black eyes fiercely upon him, "how dares he to send any but the noblest in his land to treat with him who sets his foot upon his neck? 'Tis well for thee that thou art but a servant, and that therefore we pardon thee, otherwise hadst thou died the death for daring to present thyself before me. But now get thee gone! Yet stay! Edicon, we will that thou shouldst accompany him back to the vicious city of Theodosius, the womanly king of an effeminate nation. Thou shalt go into his presence and say unto him, 'How is it that thou hast been so insolent as to send any of blood less noble than thine own, even to lick the dust beneath the feet of Attila? As thou hast so done, thou shalt be exiled again by the same hand that has smitten thee; for Attila the King, thy master and mine, bids thee prepare a place for him.' Thus shalt thou speak--in these words and no others?"
"Oh king! I will obey thee to a word," replied Edicon. "When wilt thou that I set out?"
"Ere the earth be three days older," answered Attila: "take that Roman slave from my presence; to see him offends mine eye. Now, what tidings from my brother Bleda?" he continued, turning to a warrior who stood near, dressed in glittering apparel.
"He greets thee well, oh king! and bids me tell thee that, after resting in his own dwelling for a space, he will lead his warriors towards the banks of the Aluta, if thou dost not need his services against thine enemies."
Attila turned his eyes towards Ardaric, who cast his down, and smoothed back the beard from his upper lip.
"Fortune attend him," said the monarch; "and thou mayst tell him, my friend, that as he will be in the neighbourhood of the revolted Getæ, he had better, if his time permit, reduce them to a wise and bloodless submission, otherwise Attila must march against them himself, and this hand strikes but once. Bid good fortune attend him, and wisdom guide him in all his actions!"
Attila placed a peculiar emphasis on his words, but his countenance underwent no variation. Such, however, was not the case with the chiefs who stood around, on the brows of many of whom Theodore had remarked a cloud gather at the announcement of Bleda's purposes; and they now heard the reply of their great leader with a grim but not insignificant smile. The young Roman could not, it is true, divine the secret causes of all that he saw; but the conversation of Ardaric on the preceding evening led him to believe that Bleda was hurrying on his hopeless schemes of ambition, and that he would soon be plunged into open contention with his far more powerful brother. With all the feelings of a Roman yet strong within him, Theodore could hardly regret the prospect of a struggle which might divide and occupy the enemies of his native country; but still he felt a degree of sorrowful regret that all the high and noble qualities of the barbarian king should not have been enough to win the love or overawe the ambition of his inferior brother.