Cedric took the gift, wrapping it beneath his cloak.
"Thou mayest depart."
The dumb sentinel again took charge of him, and led him away by many intricate passages towards the entrance, where it seems the goldsmith had directed him on presenting the signet of Caracalla. The person who took charge of him was a dumb eunuch, a slave in the service of the empress.
But the terrors of death were upon the wretched victim. He knew the centurion would assuredly be at hand to receive his report, and he could not escape. He had not brought back one word of intelligence; and, being blindfolded, he knew not whither he had been taken. The writing he carried would assuredly be unintelligible, save to those for whom it was intended. His mission, he could perceive, had utterly failed. The centurion would not be able to profit by any thing he had brought back, and must, inevitably, according to his pledge, at once render him up to the soothsayer. Whilst ruminating on his hard fate, a sudden thought crossed him. There was little probability of success; but, at all events, it might operate as a diversion in his favour, and the design was immediately executed. Skulking for a moment behind the slave, he tore off the bandage, and tripped up the heels of his conductor. Before the latter could recover himself, the Briton's gripe was on his throat.
"Now, slave, thou art my prisoner! Lead on, or, by this good sword, thou diest!"
The torch he carried was, luckily, not extinguished in the fall. The eunuch, almost choaking, made a sign that he would obey. With the drawn blade at his throat, the slave went on; but Cedric, ever wary, and with that almost instinctive sagacity peculiar to man in his half-civilised state, kept a tiger-like watch on every movement of his prisoner, which enabled him to detect the fingers of the slave suddenly raised to his lips, and a shrill whistle would have consigned him over to certain and immediate destruction; but he struck down the uplifted hand with a blow which made his treacherous conductor crouch and cringe almost to the ground.
"Another attempt," said Cedric, "and we perish together!"
The wily slave looked all penitence and submission. Silently proceeding, apparently through the underground avenues of the palace, Cedric was momentarily expecting his arrival at the place where the centurion kept watch. A flight of steps now brought them to a spacious landing-place. Suddenly a lamp was visible, and beneath it sat a number of soldiers, the emperor's body-guard. They gave way as the eunuch passed by, followed by Cedric, his sword still drawn. Several of these groups were successively cleared: the guide, by a countersign, was enabled to thread his way through every obstacle that presented itself. The Briton's heart misgave him as they approached a vestibule, before which a phalanx of the guards kept watch. Here he thought it prudent to sheath his weapon, though he still followed the eunuch, as his only remaining chance of escape. Even here they were instantly admitted, and without any apparent hesitation. The door turned slowly on its pivot, and Cedric found himself in a richly decorated chamber, where, by the light of a single lamp, and with the smell of perfumed vapour in his nostrils, he saw a figure in costly vestments reclining on a couch. The slave prostrated himself.
"What brings thee from thy mistress at this untimely hour? A message from the empress?"
Here the speaker raised himself from the couch, and the slave, with great vehemence, made certain signs, which the wondering Briton understood not.