Bracciolini said, idly:
"So you served under him? I remember that he was taken by the heathen.
A woman ransomed him, they say."
Demetrios, able to tell a tale against any man, told now the tale of Melicent's immolation, speaking with vivacity and truthfulness in all points save that he represented himself to have been one of the ransomed Free Companions.
Bracciolini's careful epilogue was that the proconsul had acted foolishly in not keeping the emeralds.
"He gave his enemy a weapon against him," Bracciolini said, and waited.
"Oh, but that weapon was never used. Sire Perion found service at once, under King Bernart, you will remember. Therefore Sire Perion hid away these emeralds against future need—under an oak in Sannazaro, he told me. I suppose they lie there yet."
"Humph!" said Bracciolini. He for a while was silent. Demetrios sat adjusting the strings of the lute, not looking at him.
Bracciolini said, "There were eighteen of them, you tell me? and all fine stones?"
"Ey?—oh, the emeralds? Yes, they were flawless, messire. The smallest was larger than a robin's egg. But I recall another song we learned at Nacumera—"
Demetrios sang the loves of Lucius and Fotis. Bracciolini grunted, "Admirable" in an abstracted fashion, muttered something about the duties of his office, and left the room. Demetrios heard him lock the door outside and waited stolidly.