Verus went on: "A stranger delivered this letter at the palace soon
after our fleet went out to sea. It ran as follows:--

"'To King Gelimer King Theudis.

"'I am writing this in the harbor of Carthage--'"

"What? Impossible!" cried the three listeners.

"'--which I am just leaving. I wished to see the condition of affairs
with my own eyes. For three days I remained among you unrecognized.
Only my brave General, Theudigisel, accompanied me in the fishing boat
which bore me across the narrow arm of the sea from Calpe, and will be
carrying me home again when you read this, Gelimer. You are a true
king, a true hero. I saw you slay the tiger to-night; but you cannot
kill the serpent of degeneration which has coiled around your people.
Your guards sleep at their posts; your nobles go naked, or in women's
garb. I saw them flame up at last, but it is a fire of straw. Even if
they really desired to improve, they could not change in a few weeks
what the slothfulness of two generations has accomplished. The
punishment, the recompense, for our sins does not fail.'" The King
sighed heavily. "'Woe betide him who sought to unite his destiny to
your sinking race! I offer you not alliance, but refuge. If after the
battle is lost, you can escape to Spain,--and I will gladly aid you to
do so,--no Justinian, no Belisarius shall reach you with us.
Farewell!'"

"The subterfuge of cowardice," said Gibamund, resentfully.

"This man is no coward," replied Gelimer, sadly. "He is wise. Well,
then, we will fight alone."

"And invite this wise King Theudis to be our guest at our banquet to
celebrate the victory!" exclaimed Hilda.

"Do not challenge Heaven by idle boasting," warned Gelimer. "But be it
so. The aid of the Visigoths in the war is of less value to us than to
have the Ostrogoths at least remain neutral; to have Sicily--"

"Sicily," interrupted Verus, "if war should be declared, will be the
bridge over which the enemy will march into Africa."

The King's eyes opened wider in astonishment; Gibamund started up, but
Hilda, turning pale, exclaimed,--

"What? My own people? The daughter of the Amalungi?"

"This letter from the Regent has just arrived; Cassiodorus composed it.
I should know by the scholarly style if he had not affixed his
signature. She writes that, too weak to avenge, by her own power, the
blood of her father's sister and many thousand Goths, she will joyfully
see the vengeance of Heaven executed by her imperia