Presently he found
himself walking apart with Venantius, who spoke to him of public
affairs, apprised him of the course of the war during these past
weeks, and uttered the hope that before the end of the year the
liberators would enter Rome. It was true that the Emperor had at
length charged Belisarius with the task of reconquering Italy, but
months must pass before an army could be assembled and transported;
by the latest news the great commander was in Illyria, striving to
make a force out of fresh-recruited barbarians, and lamenting the
avarice of Justinian which grudged him needful supplies. And as he
listened to all this, Basil felt a new ardour glow within him. He
had ever worshipped the man of heroic virtues; once upon a time it
was Belisarius who fired his zeal; now his eyes dazzled with the
glory of Totila; he burned to devote a loyal service to this brave
and noble king.
Suddenly there sounded a trumpet. Its note broke strangely upon the
monastic stillness, and, in a moment, echoed clear from the
mountains.
'The king goes forth,' said Venantius.
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