When Basil turned towards the bent form of the speaker his gaze fell upon a gleaming knife which Bessarion had produced from under the loose folds of his gown.
For a moment the two stood face to face. Neither spoke, each seemingly intent upon fathoming the thoughts of the other. The wind hissed and screamed through the corridors of the Colosseum.
It was Basil who broke the silence.
"What is it, you want?"
"Bare your left arm!"
There was a natural hollow in the rock, that the weather had scooped out in the stone altar.
Basil obeyed.
The gibbering voice rose again above the silence.
"Hold it over the basin!"
The lightnings twisted and streamed like silvery adders through the dark vaults of the heavens, and terrific peals of thunder shook the shuddering world in its foundations.