"But you linger long," said Antonina. "Justinian's litter was already waiting as I came up."
"Yes, mistress," said a young slave anxiously, "the slave at the sundial has already announced the fourth hour. Hasten, mistress!"
A prick with the lancet was the only answer.
"Would you teach your Empress!" but she whispered to Antonina: "We must not spoil the men; they must always wait for us, never we for them. My ostrich fan, Thais. Go, Ione, tell the Cappadocian slaves to come to my litter." And she turned to go.
"Oh, Theodora!" cried Antonina quickly, "do not forget my request."
"No," answered Theodora, suddenly standing still, "certainly not! And that you may be quite sure, I will give the order into your own hands. My wax-tablets and the stylus!"
Theodora wrote, and whispered to her friend:
"The Prefect of the harbour is one of my old friends. He blindly obeys me. Read what I write."
"To Aristarchus the Prefect, Theodora the Empress.
"When Severinus, the son of Boëthius, is about to go on board the ship of Belisarius, keep him back, if necessary, by force; and send him to my rooms. He is appointed my chamberlain."
"Is that right, dear sister?" she whispered.
"A thousand thanks!" said Antonina, with beaming eyes.
"But," said the Empress suddenly, putting her hand to her neck, "have we forgotten the principal thing? My amulet! the Mercury. Please, Antonina; there it hangs."
Antonina turned hastily to fetch the little golden Mercury, which hung, by a silk cord, on the bed of the Empress.
Meanwhile Theodora quickly crossed out the word "Severinus," and wrote instead "Anicius." She closed the tablets, tied them, and fastened the string with her seal.
"Here is the amulet," said Antonina, returning.
"And here is the order," said the Empress, smiling. "You can give it to Aristarchus yourself at the moment of departure. Now," she cried, "let us go. To the church!"
In Neapolis, that Italian city over which the tempest then gathering at Byzantium was soon to burst in its first violence, no presentiment of the coming danger was felt.
On the charming declivities of Posilippo, or on the shore to the south-east of the city, there wandered, day by day, two handsome youths, exchanging confidences with all the enthusiasm of youthful friendship. They were the "Dioscuri," Julius and Totila.