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in a clear low voice, steady but full of
suppressed anguish. A shriek was heard among the women, and
Sidonius stepped forth and demanded the amount of wehrgeld.

"That must be for King Euric to decide," returned Meinhard. "He will
fix the amount, and it will be for Odo to choose whether he will accept
it. The mulct will be high, for the youth was of high Baltic blood, and
had but lately arrived with his father from the north!"
"Enough," said Verronax. "Listen, Meinhard. Thou knowest me, and
the Arvernian faith. Leave me this night to make my peace with
Heaven and my parting with man. At the hour of six to-morrow
morning, I swear that I will surrender myself into thine hands to be
dealt with as it may please the father of this young man."
"So let it be, Meinhard," said AEmilius, in a stifled voice.
"I know AEmilius, and I know Verronax," returned the Goth.
They grasped hands, and then Meinhard drew off his followers, leaving
two, at the request of Marcus, to act as sentinels at the gate.
The Senator sat with his hands clasped over his face in unutterable grief,
Columba threw herself into the arms of her betrothed, Marina tore her
hair, and shrieked out--
"I will not hold my peace! It is cruel! It is wicked! It is barbarous!"
"Silence, Marina," said Verronax. "It is just! I am no ignorant child. I
knew the penalty when I incurred it! My Columba, remember, though it
was a hasty blow, it was in defence of our Master's Name."
The thought might comfort her by and by; as yet it could not.
The Senator rose and took his hand.
"Thou dost forgive me, my son?" he said.
"I should find it hard to forgive one who lessened my respect for the
AEmilian constancy," returned Verronax.
Then he led Marcus aside to make arrangements with him respecting
his small mountain estate and the remnant of his tribe, since Marina

was his nearest relative, and her little son would, if he were cut off, be
the sole heir to the ancestral glories of Vercingetorix.
"And I cannot stir to save such a youth as that!" cried the Senator in a
tone of agony as he wrung the hand of Sidonius. "I have bound mine
own hands, when I would sell all I have to save him. O my friend and
father, well mightest thou blame my rashness, and doubt the justice that
could be stern where the heart was not touched."
"But I am not bound by thine oath, my friend," said Sidonius. "True it
is that the Master would not be served by the temporal sword, yet such
zeal as that of this youth merits that we should strive to deliver him.
Utmost justice would here be utmost wrong. May I send one of your
slaves as a messenger to my son to see what he can raise? Though I fear
me gold and silver is more scarce than it was in our younger days."
This was done, and young Lucius also took a summons from the
Bishop to the deacons of the Church in the town, authorising the use of
the sacred vessels to raise the ransom, but almost all of these had been
already parted with in the time of a terrible famine which had ravaged
Arvernia a few years previously, and had denuded all the wealthy and
charitable families of their plate and jewels. Indeed Verronax shrank
from the treasure of the Church being thus applied. Columba might
indeed weep for him exultingly as a martyr, but, as he well knew,
martyrs do not begin as murderers, and passion, pugnacity, and national
hatred had been uppermost with him. It was the hap of war, and he was
ready to take it patiently, and prepare himself for death as a brave
Christian man, but not a hero or a martyr; and there was little hope
either that a ransom so considerable as the rank of the parties would
require could be raised without the aid of the AEmilii, or that, even if it
were, the fierce old father would accept it. The more civilised Goths,
whose families had ranged Italy, Spain, and Aquitaine for two or three
generations, made murder the matter of bargain that had shocked
AEmilius; but this was an old man from the mountain cradle of the race,
unsophisticated, and but lately converted.
In the dawn of the summer morning Bishop Sidonius celebrated the
Holy Eucharist for the mournful family in the oratory, a vaulted

chamber underground, which had served the same purpose in the days
of persecution, and had the ashes of two tortured martyrs of the
AEmilian household, mistress and slave, enshrined together beneath the
altar, which had since been richly inlaid