of the lowest rank, it was just possible that the gold collar might
purchase its master's life, provided he were not too proud to part
with the ancestral badge.

By this time the tribunal had been reached--a special portion of the
peristyle, with a curule chair, inlaid with ivory, placed on a
tesselated pavement, as in the old days of the Republic, and a
servant on each side held the lictor's axe and bundle of rods, which
betokened stern Roman justice, wellnigh a mockery now. The forum of
the city would have been the regular place, but since an earthquake
had done much damage there, and some tumults had taken place among
the citizens, the seat of judgment had by general consent been
placed in the AEmilian household as the place of chief security, and
as he was the accredited magistrate with their Gothic masters, as
Sidonius had been before his banishment.

As Sidonius looked at the grave face of the Senator, set like a
rock, but deadly pale, he thought it was no unworthy representative
of Brutus or Manlius of old who sat on that seat.

Alas! would he not be bound by his fatal oath to be only too true a
representative of their relentless justice?

On one side of the judgment-seat stood Verronax, towering above all
around; behind him Marina and Columba, clinging together, trembling
and tearful, but their weeping restrained by the looks of the
Senator, and by a certain remnant of hope.

To the other side advanced the Goths, all much larger and taller men
than any one except the young Gaulish chieftain. The foremost was a
rugged-looking veteran, with grizzled locks and beard, and a
sunburnt face. This was Meinhard, the head of the garrison on
Deodatus's farm, a man well known to AEmilius, and able to speak
Latin enough to hold communication with the Romans. Several younger
men pressed rudely behind him, but they were evidently impressed by
the dignity of the tribunal, though it was with a loud and fierce
shout that they recognised Verronax standing so still and unmoved.

"Silence!" exclaimed the Senator, lifting his ivory staff.

Meinhard likewise made gestures to hush them, and they ceased, while
the Senator, greeting Meinhard and inviting him to share his seat of
authority, demanded what they asked.

"Right!" was their cry. "Right on the slayer of Odorik, the son of
Odo, of the lineage of Odin, our guest, and of the King's trust."

"Right shall ye have, O Goths," returned AEmilius. "A Roman never
flinche