g to
me."

Cethegus imperceptibly compressed his lips.

"Well? What was he? What did he say?"

"He was an Isaurian mercenary," said Gothelindis sharply, "an
overlooker of the works on the ramparts at Rome, and he said,
'Cethegus, the Prefect, sent me to the Queen, and the Queen sent me to
Duke Thulun!'"

"Who heard his confession besides you?" asked Cethegus.

"No one. And no one shall know of this, if you stand by me. But if not,
then----"

"Gothelindis," interrupted the Prefect, "no threats! They are of no
use. You must comprehend that they can only aggravate, but not control
me. In case of need, I would allow it to come to an open accusation.
You are known as the bitter enemy of Amalaswintha, and your evidence
alone--you were imprudent enough to confess that no one else heard the
declaration of the dying man--would ruin neither her nor me. You cannot
force me to act against the Queen; at the most, you could persuade me,
if you can show that it would be to my advantage. And to do this, I
myself will propose an ally to you. You certainly know Petros, my
friend?"

"Very well; long since."

"Permit me to fetch him to this conference."

He returned to his study.

"Petros, my visitor is the Princess Gothelindis, the wife of Theodahad.
She wishes to speak to both of us. Do you know her?"

"I? oh no. I have never seen her," answered Petros quickly.

"'Tis well; follow me."

As soon as they entered the hall, Gothelindis cried out:

"Welcome, old friend! What a surprising meeting!"

Petros was dumb. Cethegus, his hands clasped behind his back, enjoyed
the confusion of the Byzantine.

"Do you see, Petros? always too cunning, always unnecessary subtleties!
But come, do not be so cast down by the discovery of a trick. So you
two have combined together for the Queen's ruin. You wish to persuade
me to help you. But before doing so, I must know your intentions
exactly. Whom will you place upon Amalaswintha's throne? For the way is
not yet open for Justinian."

Both were silent for some moments. His clear perception of the
situation surprised them. At last Gothelindis spoke:

"Theodahad, my husband, the last of the Amelungs."

"Theodahad, the last of the Amelungs," Cethegus repeated slowly.

Meanwhile, he considered all the advantages and disadvantages of this
plan. He reflected that Theodahad, unloved by the Goths, and raised to
the throne by Petros, would soon be entirely in the power of the
Byzantines,