"How so?"

"Thus," said Wulf. "We shall take for ourselves what should be ours by right, what is wrung from us by infamous greed. What would suffice us would not be missed by those who have more than plenty, yet even this they will not give us. We must get it for ourselves."

Wardo nodded.

"That will be a good thing to do. Where shall we find it?"

"Why should we show mercy to them?" Wulf declaimed. "What mercy have they shown us? Do they not grind us into the earth; do we not pay in sweat and blood for their idle pleasures? And with all of this, have they not sought to force us to our knees before any new G.o.d they choose to perch upon a pedestal? I, for one, will not worship because one man says 'Bow down!' And I do not care who knows it. I am as good as the next man, and I will have my rights."

Wardo, who had never heard anything like this before, was impressed deeply.

"I say so too," he exclaimed with great earnestness. "Let us take what is our own. Then if thou hast rights, _I_ have rights also. And I will have my rights!"

"Of course! I see thou art a clever fellow, and a man after mine own heart. Drink more wine. See, then, I will tell thee a thing. This lord of thine, who oppresses thee and vouchsafes thee no rights, who wrings from thee what should be thine--thou hast him in thy hand. He hath committed a grievous crime in giving shelter to a murderer. Does he think that his guest will not be demanded of him by those whom that guest hath wronged? For this does he not deserve punishment?"

Wardo nodded, much bewildered at the rapid changes of subject he was called upon to follow. G.o.ds, gold, oppression, murderers, and all at once--and his mind was taxed with one thing at a time.

"Then I see plainly that thou art chosen to execute justice and to claim thy full reward!" cried Wulf, in sonorous prophecy.

"Oh, no--not on my lord!" said Wardo, firmly. "Or, look you, it would be I who should be executed." And chuckled at his cleverness in discovering this point.

"You do not understand," Wulf a.s.sured him, patiently. "There is no danger in it for you--none at all. All you will do is to answer these questions I shall ask you now. Tell me then, first, how many men can your lord summon to--let us say, protect this lord Felix when his enemies find him out?"

"With his familia, and the coloni and casarii who own him lord, he can call out near a thousand; though it would take time to gather all of these from his estates. But, my friend, how may the enemies of this lord Felix find him out when they know not where he is?"

Again he chuckled at the point which he had made.

"True," Wulf admitted smoothly. "I but suppose the case. For they are roaming far and wide, and if they find him not, it will not be for lack of searching."

"Now I must tell my lord of this, that he may be prepared," Wardo muttered. He pressed his hands to his temples. "My head is buzzing with your questions, and I am weary, for I have ridden far. Pray you, let me sleep."

"Not yet!" Wulf said hastily, in alarm, as Wardo's head sank lower.

"See, friend, you are trusted in your lord's household, I doubt not. Is there a rear door, even a very little one, of which you know where the key is hung?"

Wardo jerked his head upright, his eyes half closed.

"What is this you say?" he asked angrily. "What would you with a--a--little key?"

"Give me a key, and I will give you as much gold as you can carry on your back," said Wulf, low and eagerly, his caution forgotten in the fever of his greed.

Wardo opened his eyes with effort to their fullest extent and stared at him. His voice was thick and stuttering.

"A key? to my lord's house? _Deae matres!_ What should I do that for? I am my lord's man!"

"You shall come to no harm!" Wulf urged desperately, fearful lest the man fall asleep before he could gain what he would. But at last Wardo understood. He staggered off the couch, clutching at Sada's shoulder for support, reeling and blind with drink, and towered over Wulf.

"Look you, sirrah!" he shouted, so that men turned to look at him in surprise, "I am no traitor to my lord! I am his man, blood and body, and his will is my law and his faith is my faith. I have served him loyally, and so shall I continue to serve. What is this you would have me do?

Turn rascal, even as you? Holy G.o.ds, I'll show you, knave and varlet--"

Unexpectedly he stooped, and caught Wulf by the collar of his tunic.

Wulf struggled, but Wardo dragged him across the floor, shook him, and flung him outside the door and slammed it. He turned to Sada, demanding her applause with drunken self-satisfaction at his prowess, dropped on the nearest couch in abject prostration, and was instantly asleep.

After uncounted hours he roused, to find Sada dashing cold water in his face and calling his name in great distress. They were alone in the room, and the sun was shining through the window.

"What hast thou?" Wardo grumbled. "Let me sleep!"

She shook his shoulder.

"Hasten, Wardo, and undo the mischief thou hast done while there may yet be time. For hours I have tried to wake thee!"

"Harm? What harm?"

"Thou hast told that evil man all he would know of thy lord's defences, of the treasures within his house, and of the lord called Felix who is there. And when thou wert asleep he, being drunken also, did tell Eunice, who bade him render payment for his wine, that it would not take long to send word to these men who search for this lord Felix, and that then he would give her gold and jewels in plenty. Hasten, Wardo, and warn thy lord, or it will be too late!" She wrung her hands.

"_I_ have done this thing?" Wardo exclaimed, pointing a finger at his own broad chest. "Nay, girl, thou'rt joking!"

"Never that!" cried Sada, with impatience. "Thou wert drunk, I tell thee, and he got out of thee what he would. Thy lord is betrayed, and through thee!"

"Betrayed!" The word stabbed through his dull sodden wits and sent him starting from the couch, his face gray with horror. He sank back with a groan of sheer physical sickness, and tried again, his teeth set, the sweat starting on his forehead. His legs trembled under him, and his eyes were dazed, but he got to the door and leaned against it, his hands over his face.

"If I have done this thing thou sayest," he said hoa.r.s.ely, "my life is rightly forfeit, and I shall give it into my lord's hand. I do not understand--I am my lord's man, and loyal." He turned to her in stunned appeal. "Sada girl, am I drunk, that thou shouldst fill me with this madness?"

Her eyes filled with tears.

"Nay," she answered sadly. "Thou art sober now."

The fresh air aided what the shock of her words had begun. He mounted, heavily, yet in feverish desperate haste, whirled his horse about with scarcely a word of farewell to her, and struck the heavy spurs deep. The beast sprang forward, with a shower of sparks from the cobbles.

Sada, returning from the door, ran into the arms of a thin slip of a girl, white-faced and with burning eyes, who caught her and cried desperately:

"What said he of Nicanor? What have they done to him? Does he live still?"

"Peace, child!" said Sada. "Now he hath thought for nothing but this thing which he hath done, and I with him. But last night he did tell me that this friend of his, thy lover, hath been sent to the mines, and that he had been of the guard."

"And I not to know!" cried Eldris, bitterly. "He might have told me how he looked and what he said; and now he hath gone, and I may not ask him--"

"Ay, and I think that I shall never see him more. For surely his lord will slay him when he knows what he hath done," said Sada.

Suddenly she put her head on Eldris's shoulder and wept; and Eldris, by way of showing sympathy, having love sorrows of her own, put her arms about her and wept also.

II

The lord Eudemius laid himself upon his couch of ebon and carved ivory with the air of a man whose work has been well done. Midnight was long gone, the great house was quiet, and the desire of his heart stood forth in fulfilment. He had a son; his dying house was propped with fresh strength and vigor, and the G.o.ds of the shades might claim him when they would. One week ago had the marriage been celebrated. Each night since there had been feasts, with at every feast new dishes contrived, new sports and entertainments offered, new souvenirs of price distributed, to provide the jaded senses of his guests with fresh gratification. Now the festivities were nearly over; already some of the lords had gone.

Among them was Count Pomponius, with his Wardens of the Eastern Marches, for it was reported that Saxons were again harrying and burning along the coast.

In the mellow light of the bronze lamps the face of Eudemius showed softer, less inscrutable, with eyes more kindly. On it was great weariness, but also a great content. He put forth a hand and touched the bell on the stand beside his couch. The strain under which he had labored was lifting; he could afford to relax. The silvery tinkle of sound had scarcely fallen into the quiet of the room when Mycon, chief of the eunuchs, entered, parting the curtains, with his arms crossed before his face.

"Bid Cyrrus bring hither his lyre," said Eudemius.