Veranilda | Page 5

such a service as was proposed. On his delicate mission,
the young man set forth without delay. To Cumae, whether by sea or
land, was but a short journey: starting at daybreak, Basil might have
given ample time to his embassy, and have been back again early on
the morrow. But the second day passed, and he did not return. Though
harassed by the delay, Maximus tried to deem it of good omen, and
nursed his hope through another sleepless night.
Soon after sunrise, he was carried forth to his place of observation, a
portico in semicircle, the marble honey-toned by time, which afforded
shelter from the eastern rays and commanded a view of vast extent.

Below him lay the little town, built on the cliffs above its landing-place;
the hillsides on either hand were clad with vineyards, splendid in the
purple of autumn, and with olives. Sky and sea shone to each other in
perfect calm; the softly breathing air mingled its morning freshness
with a scent of fallen flower and leaf. A rosy vapour from Vesuvius
floated gently inland; and this the eye of Maximus marked with
contentment, as it signified a favourable wind for a boat crossing hither
from the far side of the bay. For the loveliness of the scene before him,
its noble lines, its jewelled colouring, he had little care; but the infinite
sadness of its suggestion, the decay and the desolation uttered by all he
saw, sank deep into his heart. If his look turned to the gleaming spot
which was the city of Neapolis, there came into his mind the sack and
massacre of a few years ago, when Belisarius so terribly avenged upon
the Neapolitans their stubborn resistance to his siege. Faithful to the
traditions of his house, of his order, Maximus had welcomed the
invasion which promised to restore Italy to the Empire; now that the
restoration was effected, he saw with bitterness the evils resulting from
it, and all but hoped that this new king of the Goths, this
fortune-favoured Totila, might sweep the land of its Greek oppressors.
He looked back upon his own life, on the placid dignity of his career
under the rule of Theodoric, the offices by which he had risen, until he
sat in the chair of the Consul. Yet in that time, which now seemed so
full of peaceful glories, he had never at heart been loyal to the great
king; in his view, as in that of the nobles generally, Theodoric was but
a usurper, who had abused the mandate intrusted to him by the
Emperor Zeno, to deliver Italy from the barbarians. When his own
kinsmen, Boethius and Symmachus, were put to death on a charge of
treachery, Maximus burned with hatred of the Goth. He regarded with
disdain the principles of Cassiodorus, who devoted his life to the
Gothic cause, and who held that only as an independent kingdom could
there be hope for Italy. Having for a moment the ear of Theodoric's
daughter, Amalasuntha, when she ruled for her son, Maximus urged her
to yield her kingdom to the Emperor, and all but saw his counsel acted
upon. After all, was not Cassiodorus right? Were not the senators who
had ceaselessly intrigued with Byzantium in truth traitors to Rome? It
was a bitter thought for the dying man that all his life he had not only
failed in service to his country, but had obstinately wrought for her

ruin.
Attendants placed food beside him. He mingled wine with water and
soothed a feverish thirst. His physician, an elderly man of Oriental
visage, moved respectfully to his side, greeted him as Illustrious,
inquired how his Magnificence had passed the latter part of the night.
Whilst replying, as ever courteously--for in the look and bearing of
Maximus there was that senatorius decor which Pliny noted in a great
Roman of another time--his straining eyes seemed to descry a sail in
the quarter he continually watched. Was it only a fishing boat? Raised
upon the couch, he gazed long and fixedly. Impossible as yet to be sure
whether he saw the expected bark; but the sail seemed to draw nearer,
and he watched.
The voice of a servant, who stood at a respectful distance, announced:
'The gracious Lady'; and there appeared a little procession. Ushered by
her eunuch, and attended by half a dozen maidens, one of whom held
over her a silk sunshade with a handle of gold, the sister of Maximus
approached at a stately pace. She was tall, and of features severely
regular; her dark hair--richer in tone and more abundant than her years
could warrant--rose in elaborate braiding intermingled with golden
threads; her waistless robe was of white silk adorned with narrow
stripes of purple, which descended, two on each