vile.
So, at least, it would be held in those northern lands which you are
pleased to call barbarian."

Now Irene sprang from her seat and clapped her hands for joy.

"You hear what he says, Martina, and the Emperor shall hear it too; aye,
and so shall my ministers, Stauracius and Aetius, who supported him in
this matter. I alone withstood him; I prayed him for his soul's sake to
be merciful. He answered that he would no longer be governed by a woman;
that he knew how to safeguard his empire, and what conscience should
allow and what refuse. So, in spite of all my tears and prayers, the
vile deed was done, as I think for no good cause. Well, it cannot
be undone. Yet, Olaf, I fear that it may be added to, and that these
royal-born men may be foully murdered. Therefore, I put you in charge of
the prison where they lie. Here is the signed order. Take with you what
men you may think needful, and hold that place, even should the Emperor
himself command you to open. See also that the prisoners within are
cared for and have all they need, but do not suffer them to escape."

I saluted and turned to go, when Irene called me back.

At that moment, too, in obedience to some sign which she made, Martina
left the chamber, looking at me oddly as she did so. I came and stood
before the Empress, who, I noted, seemed somewhat troubled, for her
breast heaved and her gaze was fixed upon the floor now. It was of
mosaic, and represented a heathen goddess talking to a young man, who
stood before her with his arms folded. The goddess was angry with the
man, and held in her left hand a dagger as though she would stab him,
although her right arm was stretched out to embrace him and her attitude
was one of pleading.

Irene lifted her head, and I saw that her fine eyes were filled with
tears.

"Olaf," she said, "I am in much trouble, and I know not where to find a
friend."

I smiled and answered:

"Need an Empress seek far for friends?"

"Aye, Olaf; farther than anyone who breathes. An Empress can find
flatterers and partisans, but not a single friend. Such love her only
for what she can give them. But, if fortune went against her, I say that
they would fall away like leaves from a tree in a winter frost, so that
she stood naked to every bitter blast of heaven. Yes, and then would
come the foe and root up that tree and burn it to give them warmth and
to celebrate their triumph. So I think, Olaf, it will be with me before
all is done.