so as
to make certain his escape, in case the Greek horsemen began a chase
early on the morrow. To the left lay a mountainous region, with byways
and little ancient towns, in old time the country of the Hernici;
beyond, a journey of two good days, flowed the river Liris, and there,
not far from the town of Arpinum, was Marcian's ancestral villa. Of
this he thought, as his horse trotted beside or behind the carriage. It
was much out of his way; surely there would be no need to go so far in
order to baffle pursuers. Yet still he thought of his villa, islanded
in the Liris, and seemed to hear through the night the music of
tumbling waters, and said within his heart, 'Could I not there lie
safe?'

Safe?--from the Greeks, that is to say, if they persistently searched
for him. Safe, until a messenger could reach Totila, and let him know
that Veranilda was rescued.

An hour after midnight, one of the mules' traces broke. In the silence
of the stoppage, whilst the driver was mending the harness as best he
could, Marcian alighted, stepped to the side of the vehicle, laid a
hand on the curtain which concealed those within, and spoke in a
subdued voice.

'Is all well with you, lady?'

'As well,' came the answer, 'as it can be with one who dreads her
unknown fate.'

The soft accents made Marcian tremble. He expected to hear a sweet
voice, but this was sweeter far than he could have imagined: its
gentleness, its sadness, utterly overcame him, so that he all but wept
in his anguish of delight.

'Have no fear,' he whispered eagerly. 'It is freedom that awaits you. I
am Marcian--Marcian, the friend of Basil.'

There sounded a low cry of joy; then the two names were repeated, his
and that of his friend, and again Marcian quivered.

'You will be no more afraid?' he said, as though laughingly.

'Oh no! The Blessed Virgin be thanked!'

An owl's long hoot wailed through the stillness, seeming to fill with
its infinite melancholy the great vault of moonlit heaven. In Marcian
it produced a sudden, unaccountable fear. Leaping on to his horse, he
cursed the driver for slowness. Another minute, and they were speeding
onward.

Marcian watched anxiously the course of the silver orb above them. When
it began to descend seaward, the animals were showing signs of
weariness; before daybreak he must perforce call a halt. In
conversation with the leader of his guard, he told the reason of their
hasting on by night (known already to the h