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.
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