The Goths turned in astonishment, and saw a troop of horsemen hurrying down the hill in the direction of the place of justice.
The sun flashed upon the armed figures with such dazzling brilliancy that they could not be recognised, although they approached rapidly.
But old Hildebrand rose up in his elevated seat, shaded his eagle eyes with his hand, and at once exclaimed:
"Those are Gothic weapons! The waving banner bears the figure of the scales: that is the crest of Earl Witichis! and there he is himself at the head of the troop! and the tall figure on his left is the sturdy Hildebad! What brings the generals back? Their troops should be far on their way to Gaul and Dalmatia."
There ensued an uproar of excited voices. Meanwhile the riders had reached the place and sprang from their smoking horses. Received with enthusiasm, the two generals, Witichis and Hildebad, went through the crowd up to Hildebrand's judgment-seat.
"What?" cried Hildebad, still out of breath; "you sit here and hold a tribunal as if in time of peace, and the enemy Belisarius has landed!"
"We know it," answered Hildebrand quietly, "and would have held counsel with the King how best to check him."
"With the King!" laughed Hildebad bitterly.
"He is not here," said Witichis, looking round; "that confirms our suspicion. We returned because we had cause for grave mistrust. But of that later. Continue where you were interrupted. Everything according to right and order! Peace, friend!"
And, pushing the impatient Hildebad back, he modestly placed himself on the left of the judgment-seat amongst the others.
After all had become still, the old man continued:
"Gothelindis, our Queen, is accused of the murder of Amalaswintha, the daughter of Theodoric. I ask: are we a tribunal to judge such a cause?"
Old Haduswinth, leaning upon his club, advanced a step and said:
"Red are the cords which enclose this place of execution. The National Assembly has the right to judge red-handed crime; warm life and cold death. If it has been ordered otherwise in late times, it has been by force and not by right. Wearea tribunal to judge such a cause."
"Through all the nation," resumed Hildebrand, "a heavy reproach is made against Gothelindis; in the depths of our hearts we accuse her. But who will accuse her here, in open assembly, in audible words, of this murder?"
"I," cried a loud voice, and a handsome young Goth in shining armour stepped forward, on the right of the judge, laying his hand upon his heart.
A murmur of approbation ran through the crowd.
"He loves the beautiful Mataswintha!"
"He is the brother of Duke Guntharis of Tuscany, who holds Florentia."
"He is her wooer."
"He comes forward as the avenger of her mother."
"I, Earl Arahad of Asta, the son of Aramuth, of the noble race of the Wölfungs," continued the young Goth with an engaging blush. "It is true, I am not akin to the murdered Princess; but the men of her family, Theodahad foremost, her cousin and her King, do not fulfil their duty as blood-avengers. Is not Theodahad himself abettor and hider of the murder? I, then, a free and unblemished Goth of noble blood, a friend of the late unhappy Princess, complain on behalf of her daughter, Mataswintha. I appeal against murder! I appeal against blood!"
And, amidst the loud applause of the Assembly, the stately youth drew his sword and laid it straight before him upon the seat of justice.
"And thy proofs? Speak!"
"Hold, Ting-Earl," cried a grave voice, and Witichis stepped forward opposite to the complainant. "Art thou so old, and knowest so well what is just, Master Hildebrand, and allowest thyself to be carried away by the pressure of the multitude? Must I remind thee, I, the younger man, of the first law of all justice? I hear the complainant, but not the accused."
"No woman may enter the Ting of the Goths," said Hildebrand quietly.
"I know it; but where is Theodahad, her husband and defender?"
"He has not appeared."
"Is he invited?"
"He is invited, upon my oath and that of these messengers," cried Arahad. "Step forth, sajones!"
Two of the officers came forward and touched the judgment-seat with their staffs.
"Well," continued Witichis, "it shall never be said that a woman was judged by the people of the Goths unheard and undefended. However she may be hated, she has a right to be heard and protected. I will be her defender and pleader."
And he went towards the youthful complainant, likewise drawing his sword.
A pause of respectful admiration followed.
"So thou deniest the deed?"
"I say it is not proven."
"Prove it!" said the judge, turning to Arahad.
The latter, unprepared for a formal proceedings and not ready to cope with an opponent of Witichis's weight and steady composure, was somewhat embarrassed.
"Prove?" he cried impatiently. "What need of proof? Thou, I, all the Goths know that Gothelindis hated the Princess long and bitterly. The Princess disappears from Ravenna; at the same time her murderess also. The victim is discovered in a house belonging to Gothelindis--dead; and the murderess escapes to a fortified castle. What need, then, of proof?"
And he looked with impatience at the Goths near him.
"And on this argument thou wilt accuse the Queen of murder before the open Ting?" asked Witichis quietly. "Truly may the day be far distant when a verdict is founded upon such evidence! Justice, my men, is light and air. Woe, woe to the nation which makes its hatred its justice! I myself hate this woman and her husband; but where I hate I am doubly strict."
He said this in so simple and noble a manner, that the hearts of all present were touched.
"Where are the proofs!" now asked Hildebrand. "Hast thou a palpable act? Hast thou a visible appearance? Hast thou an important word? Hast thou a true oath? Dost thou claim the oath of innocence from the accused?"
"Proof!" again repeated Arahad angrily. "I have none but the conviction within my heart!"
"Then," said Hildebrand----
But at this moment a soldier made his way to him from the gate, and said:
"Romans stand at the entrance. They beg for a hearing. They say they know all about the death of the Princess."
"I demand that they be heard!" cried Arahad eagerly. "Not as complainants, but as witnesses of the complainant."
Hildebrand made a sign, and the soldier hastened to bring up the Romans through the curious throng.
Foremost came a man, bent with years, wearing a hair shirt, and a rope tied round his loins; the cowl of his mantle hid his features. Two men in the habit of slaves followed. Questioning looks were fixed upon the old man, whose bearing, in spite of simplicity and even poverty, was full of dignity and nobility.
When he reached Hildebrand's seat, Arahad looked closely into his face, and started back in surprise.
"Who is it," asked the judge, "whom thou callest as a witness to thy words? An unknown stranger?"
"No," cried Arahad, and threw back the old man's mantle. "A man whom you all know and honour--Marcus Aurelius Cassiodorus."
A cry of general surprise arose from the Ting-place.
"Such was my name," said the witness, "during the time of my worldly existence; now only Brother Marcus."
An expression of holy resignation beamed from his features.
"Well, Brother Marcus," responded Hildebrand, "what hast thou to tell us of Amalaswintha's death? Tell the whole truth, and nothing but the truth."
"I will. Know, first, that it is not the striving after human requital which brings me here. I do not come to avenge the murder. 'Vengeance is mine; I will repay,' saith the Lord. No; I am here to fulfil the last wish of the unhappy woman, the daughter of my great King."
He took a roll of papyrus out of his dress.
"Shortly before her flight from Ravenna, Amalaswintha directed these lines to me, which I have to communicate to you as her legacy to the nation of the Goths. These are her words:
"'The thanks of a contrite heart for thy friendship. Still more than the hope of safety, I am comforted by the feeling that I have not lost thy attachment. Yes, I will hasten to thy villa in the Lake of Bolsena. Does not the road lead thence to Rome, to Regeta, where I will confess before my Goths, and atone for my crime? I will die, if it must be; but not by the hands of my enemies. No; by the verdict of my people, whom I, blind fool, have ruined! I have deserved death, not only for the murder of the three dukes--who, let it be known to all, died through me--but still more for the madness with which I repulsed my people for the sake of Byzantium. If I reach Regeta alive, I will warn my people with my last breath, and cry: Fear Byzantium! Justinian is false as hell, and there can be no peace between him and us! But I will warn them also of inner enemies. King Theodahad plots treason; he has sold Italy and the Gothic crown to the ambassador of Byzantium; he has done I refused to do. Be cautious, strong, and united! Would that' dying, I could expiate the crimes committed while living.'"
The people had listened in deep silence to these words, read by Cassiodorus in a trembling voice, and which seemed to come to them from the other side of the grave.
When he ceased, compassion and sorrow prolonged this silence.
At last old Hildebrand rose and said:
"She has erred; she has made atonement. Daughter of Theodoric, the nation of the Goths forgives thy crime, and thanks thee for thy fidelity."
"So may God forgive her; amen!" said Cassiodorus.
He then continued:
"I never invited her to my villa; I could not do so. Fourteen days before I had sold all my property to Queen Gothelindis."
"Therefore her enemy," interrupted Arahad, "misusing his name, decoyed Amalaswintha into that house. Canst thou deny this. Earl Witichis?"
"No," answered he. "But," he continued, turning to Cassiodorus, "hast thou also proof that the Princess did not die an accidental death there? that Gothelindis caused her death!"
"Come forth, Syrus, and speak!" said Cassiodorus. "I answer for the truth of this man."
The slave advanced, bent his head reverently, and said:
"For twenty years I have had the superintendence of the sluices of the lake and the waterworks of the baths in the villa; none beside me knew the secret. When Queen Gothelindis bought the estate, all the slaves and personal servants of Cassiodorus were sent away; I alone remained. Early one morning, the Princess Amalaswintha landed at the island, and the Queen soon followed. The latter at once sent for me, said she would take a bath, and ordered me to give her the keys of all the sluices of the lake and the pipes of the baths, and to explain to her the whole plan of the works. I obeyed; gave her the keys and the plan drawn upon parchment, but warned her seriously not to open all the sluices, nor to let all the pipes play, for it might cost her her life. But she angrily rebuked me, and I heard that she ordered her slave to fill the kettles, not with warm, but with hot water. I went away; but, anxious for her safety, I remained in the vicinity of the baths. After some time, I heard, by the violent roaring and rushing, that notwithstanding, and in spite of, my advice, the Queen had let in the whole water of the lake. At the same time I heard the steaming water rise hissing through all the pipes in the walls; and, as it seemed to me, I heard, dulled by the marble walls, fearful cries for help. I hurried to the outer gallery of the baths to save the Queen. But what was my surprise when, at the central point of the works, at the Medusa's head, I saw the Queen, whom I thought in danger of death in the bath, standing quietly outside, completely clothed. She pressed the springs, and exchanged angry words with some one who was calling for help within. Horrified, and partly guessing what was going forward, I crept away, happily unobserved."
"What, coward?" cried Witichis, "thou couldst guess what was passing and creep away!"
"I am only a slave, sir, no hero, and if the Queen had noticed me, I should certainly not be standing here to bear witness against her. Shortly afterwards a report was spread that the Princess Amalaswintha was drowned in the bath."
Loud murmurs and angry cries rang through the assembled crowd.
Arahad cried triumphantly: "Now, Earl Witichis, wilt thou still defend her?"
"No," answered Witichis, and sheathed his sword, "I defend no murderess! My office is at an end."
With this he went over from the left to the right, amongst the accusers.
"You, ye free Goths, have now to find the verdict, and administer justice," said Hildebrand. "I have only to execute what you pronounce; so I ask you, ye men of judgment, what think ye of this accusation, which Earl Arahad, son of Aramuth the Wölfung, has brought against Gothelindis, the Queen? Speak! is she guilty of murder?"
"Guilty! guilty!" shouted many thousand voices, and not a voice said "no."
"She is guilty," said the old man, rising. "Speak, complainant, what punishment dost thou demand for this crime?"
Arahad lifted his sword towards heaven.
"I appealed against murder, I appealed against blood! She shall die the death!"
And before Hildebrand could put his question to the people, the crowd was filled with angry emotion, every man's sword flew from its sheath and flashed in the sun, and every voice shouted, "She shall die the death!"
The words rolled like a terrible thunder, bearing the people's judgment over the wide plain till the echo died away in the distance.
"She dies the death," said Hildebrand, "by the axe. Up, soldiers, and search for her."
"Hold," cried Hildebad, coming forward, "our sentence will be hard to fulfil, so long as this woman is the wife of our King. Therefore I demand that the Assembly at once examine into the accusation that we carry in our hearts against Theodahad, who governs a people of heroes so unheroically. I will give words to this accusation. Mark well, I accuse him of treachery, not only of incapability to lead and save us. I will be silent on the fact that, without his knowledge, his Queen could scarcely have cooled her hate in Amalaswintha's blood; I will not speak of the warning which the latter sent to us, in her last words, against Theodahad's treachery; but is it not true that he deprived the whole southern portion of the realm of men, weapons, horses, and ships? that he sent all the forces to the Alps, so that the degenerate Greeks won Sicily, and entered Italy without a blow? My poor brother, Totila, stands alone against them, with a mere handful of soldiers. Instead of defending his rear, the King sent Witichis, Teja and me to the north. We obeyed with heavy hearts, for we guessed where Belisarius would land. We advanced slowly, expecting to be recalled at every moment. In vain. Already there ran a report through the places which we passed that Sicily was lost, and the Italians, who saw us march to the north, pulled mocking faces. We had accomplished a few days' march along the coast, when a letter from my brother Totila reached me: 'Has then, like the King, the whole nation, and my brother also, forsaken and forgotten me?' it said. 'Belisarius has taken Sicily by surprise. He has landed in Italy. The population join him. He presses forward to Neapolis. I have written four letters to King Theodahad for help. All in vain. Received not a single sail. Neapolis is in great danger. Save, save Neapolis and the kingdom!'"
A cry of dismay and anger ran through the listening crowd.
"I wanted," continued Hildebad, "to return immediately with all our thousands, but Earl Witichis, my commander, would not suffer it. I could only persuade him to halt the troops, and hasten here with a few horsemen to warn, to save, to revenge! For I cry for revenge, revenge upon King Theodahad. It was not only folly and weakness, it was knavery, to expose the south to the enemy. This letter proves it. My brother warned him four times in vain. He delivered him and the realm into the enemy's hands. Woe to us if Neapolis falls, or has already fallen! Ha! he who is guilty of this shall reign no longer, no longer live! Tear the crown of the Goths, which he has dishonoured, from his head! Down with him! Let him die!"
"Down with him! Let him die!" thundered the people, in a mighty echo.
The storm of their fury seemed irresistible, and capable of destroying whatever opposed it.
Only one man remained quiet and composed in the midst of the turbulent crowd. It was Earl Witichis. He sprang upon one of the old stones beneath the oak, and waited till the tumult was somewhat appeased.
Then he lifted his voice, and spoke with the clear simplicity which so well became him.
"Countrymen! companions! hear me! You are wrong in your sentence. Woe to us if, in the Gothic nation, by whom, since the days of our forefathers, right has been ever honoured, hate and force should sit on the throne of justice! Theodahad is a bad and weak King. He shall no longer hold the reins of the kingdom alone. Give him a guardian, as if to a minor! Depose him if you like; but you may not demand his death, his blood! Where is the proof of his treachery? or that Totila's message reached him? See, you are silent! Be wary of injustice! It destroys nations!"
As he stood on his elevated place in the full blaze of the sun, he looked great and noble, full of power and dignity. The eyes of the multitude rested with admiration upon him who seemed so superior to them all in nobility, temperance, and clear-sighted composure. A solemn pause followed.
Before Hildebad and the people could find an answer to the man who seemed to be Justice personified, the general attention was drawn away to the thick forest which bounded the view to the south, and which suddenly seemed to become alive.
For the quick trampling of approaching horses and the jingling of armour was heard in the wood, and soon a little group of horsemen appeared issuing from under the trees, and far in front galloped a man on a coal-black charger, which sped on as if rivalling the rushing of the wind.
The long black locks of the rider waved in the air, as well as the thick black mane which formed the crest of his helmet. Bending forwards, he urged his foaming horse to greater speed, and as he reached the southern entrance to the Ting, sprang from his saddle with a clash.
All gave way as they met the furious glance of his eye. His handsome face was ghastly pale.
He rushed up the incline, sprang upon a stone near Witichis, held on high a roll of parchment, cried with a last effort, "Treachery! treachery!" and fell prone, as if struck by lightning.
Witichis and Hildebad ran to him; they had barely recognised their friend.
"Teja! Teja!" they cried, "what has happened? Speak!"
"Speak," repeated Witichis once more, "it concerns the kingdom!"
At this word the steel-clad man raised himself with a superhuman effort, looked about him for a moment, and then said in a hollow voice:
"We are betrayed, Goths! betrayed by our King! Six days ago I received orders to go to Istria, not to Neapolis, as I had begged. I felt suspicious, but I obeyed, and embarked with my thousands. A violent storm drove numerous small vessels towards us from the west. Amongst them was theMercurius, the swift-sailing post-boat of Theodahad. I knew the vessel well; she once belonged to my father. As soon as she caught sight of our ships, she tried to evade us. I, mistrustful, chased her and overtook her. Her captain carried a letter to Byzantium, in the handwriting of the King. 'You will be content with me, great general,' it said, 'all the Gothic forces are at this moment on the north-east of Rome; you can land without danger. I have destroyed four letters from the Count of the Harbour of Neapolis, and thrown his messengers into a dungeon. In requital, I expect that you will punctually fulfil our contract, and shortly pay me the price fixed.'"
Teja let the letter fall; his voice died away.
The people uttered deep groans of rage.
"I at once turned and landed, and have galloped here for three days and nights without pause. I can no more."
And, staggering, he sank into the arms of Witichis.
Then old Hildebrand sprang upon the highest stone of his seat, so that he towered above the crowd. He tore a lance, which bore a small marble bust of the King upon its cross-stick, out of the hands of the bearer, and held it aloft in his left hand. In his right he raised his stone-axe.
"Sold!" he cried. "He has sold his people for yellow gold! Down with him! Down, down!"
And with a stroke of his axe he shattered the bust.
This action was the first thunder-clap that unchained the brooding tempest. Only to be compared to the strife of the elements was the wild storm which now arose amongst the multitude.
"Down with him! down with Theodahad!" was repeated a thousand times, accompanied by the deafening clash of arms.
Amidst this tumult the old master-at-arms again lifted up his metallic voice, silence once more ensued, and he said solemnly:
"Hear it, God in heaven, and men on earth: all-seeing sun and blowing wind, hear it! Whereas King Theodahad, the son of Theodis, has betrayed people and kingdom to the enemy; the nation of the Goths, free and full of ancient fame and born to bear arms, depose him from the throne. We deprive thee, Theodahad, of the golden crown and of the kingdom; of Gothic right and of life. And we do this not wrongly, but rightly. For under all our kings we have been ever free, and we would rather want kings than want freedom. No king stands so high, that he may not be judged by his people for murder, treachery, and perjury. So I deprive thee of crown, kingdom, right, and life. Outlawed shalt thou be, contemned, dishonoured. As far as Christians pray in their churches, and heathens sacrifice on their altars; as far as fire burns and earth grows green; as far as the falcon can fly a whole day when the wind supports his wings; as far as ships sail and shields shine; as far as heaven spreads its vault and the world extends; house and hall, and the companionship of good people, and all dwelling shall be denied thee, except hell alone. Thy inheritance I divide amongst the Gothic people. Thy flesh and blood I give to the ravens of the air. And whoever findeth thee, in hall or court, in a house or on the high-road, shall slay thee unpunished, and shall be thanked for his deed by the good Goths, and blessed by God. I ask you, men of justice, shall it be thus?"
"It shall be thus!" answered the crowd, and struck their swords upon their shields.
Hildebrand had scarcely descended from the stone, when old Haduswinth took his place, threw back his shaggy bear-skin, and spoke:
"We are rid of the perjured king! He will meet with an avenger. But now, true men, we must choose another king. For we have never been without one. As far back as legend and story reach, our forefathers have lifted a king upon the shield, the living symbol of the power, glory, and fortune of the good Goths. So long as Goths exist, they will have kings; and as long as a king can be found, the nation will endure. And now it is more than ever necessary that we should have a head, a leader. The race of the Amelungs rose like the sun in glory--Theodoric, its brightest star, shone for a long time; but this sun has been shamefully extinguished in Theodahad. Up! people of the Goths, ye are free! Freely choose a rightful king, who will lead you to victory and glory! The throne is vacant. Goths, I call upon you to choose a king!"
"Let us choose a king!" was the answer, in a solemn and mighty chorus.
Then Witichis mounted the Ting-seat, took off his helmet, and raised his right hand.
"Thou, God, who rulest the stars, knowest that we are not moved by unwise delight in disobedience, or by wantonness. We use the sacred right of necessity. We honour the right of royalty, the glory which beams from the crown; but this glory is dimmed. And in the great need of the nation, we exercise a people's highest right. Heralds shall go forth to all the peoples of the earth, and announce that, not because we despise, but because we honour, the crown, have we acted thus. But, for God's sake, no disputes, no quarrels now; now, when the enemy is in the land! Therefore let us first solemnly swear, that he who has the majority, were it only ofonevoice, we will all honour as our king--him and no other. I swear it--swear with me."
"We swear!" cried the Goths,
But young Arahad did not join in the oath. Ambition and love flamed in his heart. He remembered that after the fall of the Balthes and the Amelungs, his house was the oldest in the nation. He hoped to win Mataswintha's hand, if he could offer her a crown; and scarcely had the voices of the people died away, than he advanced and cried:
"Whom shall we choose, Goths? Reflect well! Above all, it is clear, we need a man with a young and powerful arm to lead us against the enemy. But that alone is not sufficient. Why did our ancestors elevate the Amelungs? Because they were the noblest and most ancient race, descended from the gods. The first star is extinguished; remember the second, remember the Balthes!"
"Now there lived only one male descendant of that family, a not yet adult grandchild of Duke Pitza--for Alaric, the brother of the Dukes Thulun and Ibba, had not been heard of for years. Arahad was confident that this boy would not be chosen, and that then the people would think of the third star of nobility. But he erred. Old Haduswinth came forward angrily and exclaimed:
"Nobility and race! Are we serfs or freemen? By the Thunderer! shall we count ancestors when Belidarius is in the land? I will tell thee, boy, what a king needs. A brave arm, it is true, but not that alone. The King shall be a rock of justice, a bulwark of peace, not only a leader in the battle. The King shall have an ever-quiet and ever-clear mind, as clear as the blue sky; and, like stars, just thoughts shall rise and set therein. The King shall have an ever-equal power, but still more an ever-equal measure; he shall never lose and forget himself in love or hate, as we may, who stand below in the crowd. He shall not only be mild to friends, but just to enemies. He, in whose heart serenity is paired with bold courage, and true moderation with true strength--that man, Arahad, is kingly, even though the humblest peasant had begotten him."
Loud applause followed the words of the old man, and Arahad fell back abashed. But Haduswinth continued:
"Good Goths, I think we have such a man! I will not name him: you shall name him to me. I came here from the distant Alps of our boundary, towards the Karathans, where the wild Turbidus rushes foaming down the rocks. There I have lived for more than the usual days of man, free, proud and lonely. I heard little of the acts of men, even of the great deeds of my own nation, unless a pack-horse laden with salt happened to stray my way. And yet the warlike frame ofoneof our heroes penetrated even to that desolate height. One who never drew his sword in an unjust cause, and who never sheathed it without victory. His name I heard again and again when I asked: Who will protect our kingdom when Theodoric dies? His name I heard in every victory that we gained, and in every work of peace that was accomplished. I had never seen him. I longed to see him. To-day I have both seen and heard him. I have looked into his eyes, that are clear and mild as the sun. I have heard his words. I heard how he pleaded for right and justice, even for a hated enemy. I heard how he alone, when blind passion carried us away, remained serene and quiet and just. Then I thought in my heart: that man is kingly; strong in war and just in peace; true as steel and pure as gold. Goths! that man shall be our king. Name the man!"
"Earl Witichis! yes, Witichis! Hail, King Witichis!"
As the unanimous acclamation rang across the plain, a sudden fear fell upon the modest man, who had eagerly listened to the speech of the old orator, and only towards the close suspected that he himself was the man so praised.
And as he heard his name ring in this thousand-voiced shout, his only feeling was: "No! this cannot, must not be!"
He tore himself away from Teja and Hildebad, who were joyfully pressing his hands, and sprang forward, shaking his head, and, as if to protect himself, stretching forth his arm.
"No!" he cried; "no, friends! not that to me! I am a simple soldier, no king. I am perhaps a good tool, but no master! Choose another, a worthier!"
And, as if beseeching them, he held out both hands to the people. But the thundering cry, "Hail, King Witichis!" was the only answer he received.
And now old Hildebrand advanced, seized his hand, and said in a loud voice:
"Cease to resist, Witichis! Who was it who first swore to acknowledge, without hesitation, the man who gained a majority even of one voice? See, thou hast all voices; and wilt thou refuse!"
But Witichis shook his head.
Then the old man went up to him and whispered:
"What? Must I urge thee more strongly? Must I remind thee of that midnight oath and bond; to sacrifice all for the well-being of thy people? I know--I see through thy transparent soul--that the crown is more a burthen to thee than an honour. I suspect that this crown will bring thee great and bitter pain, perhaps more pain than joy; and therefore I ask of thee, that thou accept it."
Witichis was still silent and pressed both hands over his eyes.
This by-play had lasted far too long for the enthusiasm of the people. They already prepared the broad shield on which to lift him; they already pressed up the eminence; and, almost impatiently, the cry sounded anew, "Hail, King Witichis!"
"Think of thy oath! wilt thou keep it or break it!" whispered Hildebrand.
"Keep it!" said Witichis, and resolutely looked up. He now, without false shame or vanity, came forward a step and said: "You have chosen me, O Goths! well, then take me; I will be your king."
At this each man's sword flashed in the light, and a louder cry arose: "All hail, King Witichis!"
Old Hildebrand now descended from his place and said:
"I leave this high seat, for the place now belongs to our king. Only once again let me perform the office of the Ting-Earl. If I cannot hang the purple on thy shoulders, O King, which the Amelungs have worn; nor reach to thee their golden sceptre--take, at least, my judge's mantle and the staff of justice for a sceptre; as a sign that thou wert chosen for thy justice' sake. I cannot press Theodoric's golden circlet, the old Gothic crown, upon thy brow, then take the first leaves of the oak which thou resemblest in trustiness and strength."
With these words he broke a tender shoot of the oak and bound it round Witichis' brow.
"Up, Gothic warriors! fulfil your office with the shield!"
Haduswinth, Teja, and Hildebad took the ancient Ting-shield, lifted the King, who was now crowned with wreath, staff, and mantle, and raised him on their shoulders in sight of all the people.
"Behold, O Goths, your King, whom you yourselves have chosen, and swear allegiance to him!"
And they swore--standing upright, not kneeling=-to true to him till death.
Witichis sprang from the shield, ascended the Ting-seat and cried:
"As you swear fidelity to me, so do I to you. I will be a mild and just king; I will do right and prevent wrong. I will remember that you are free, like me, and not my slaves. And I dedicate my life, my happiness, all that is mine, to you, to the people of the good Goths! I swear it by the God of Heaven, and by my throne."
And taking the Ting-shield from the tree, he cried:
"The Ting is over. I dissolve the Assembly."
The sajones at once knocked down the hazel staffs with the cords, and in disorderly confusion the masses mingled over the wide plain.
The Romans, who, curiously but shyly, had observed from a distance this custom of a free people, such as Italy had not witnessed for more than five hundred years, now also mixed freely with the Gothic soldiers, to whom they sold wine and meat.
Witichis prepared to go with his friends and the leaders of the army to one of the tents which were erected on the bank of the river.
There a man in Roman costume--as it seemed, a well-to-do citizen--pressed among his followers, and asked eagerly for Earl Teja, the son of Tagila.
"I am he. What would you, Roman?" asked Teja, turning.
"Nought, sir, except to deliver this vase to you. See, the seal, the scorpion, is intact."
"What shall I do with the vase? I buy no such things."
"The vase is yours, sir. It is full of documents and rolls which belong to you. My guest desired me to give it to you. I beg you, take it."
And he pressed the vase into Teja's hand, and disappeared amid the crowd.
Teja broke the seal indifferently, and took the documents out. Indifferently he looked at them.
But suddenly a vivid flush overspread his pale cheeks, his eyes flashed, and he convulsively bit his lip. The vase fell to the ground as he rushed up to Witichis, and said, in an almost toneless voice:
"My King! King Witichis, a favour!"
"What is it, Teja? For God's sake, what wilt thou?"
"Leave of absence! for six--three days! I must go!"
"Go? Where?"
"To revenge myself! Read--the devil who accused my parents, who drove them to desperation, madness, and death--it is he--whom I long since suspected. Here is his accusation, addressed to the Bishop of Florentia, in his own handwriting--it is Theodahad!"
"It is, it is Theodahad," said Witichis, looking up from the letter. "Go, then! But, doubt it not, thou wilt not find him in Rome. He has certainly fled long since. He has had a great start. Thou canst not overtake him!"
"I will overtake him, even if he rides on the wings of the storm-eagle!"
"Thou wilt not find him!"
"I will find him, if I must pluck him from hell's deepest abyss, or from out of the midst of the angels!"
"He will have fled with a strong escort," warned Witichis.
"I will reach him in the midst of a thousand demons! Hildebad, thy horse! Farewell, King of the Goths. I go to fulfil the ban!"
"And the Goths chose Witichis for their King, a man of humble origin, but a famous warrior."--Procopius: Wars of the Goths, i. 11.
Slowly sank the sun behind the green hills of Fæsulæ, and gilded the columns in front of the simple country-house of which Rauthgundis was the mistress.
The Gothic servants and Italian slaves were busy concluding the day's work.
The stable-man was fetching the young horses from the pasture; two other servants were bringing a herd of fine cattle home from the fields to the stable; while the goatherd, with Roman invectives, was driving forward hisprotégés, which stopped here and there to nibble the salty saxifrage which grew upon the broken walls of the road.
Other labourers were housing the agricultural implements in the large yard, and a Roman freedman, a very learned and superior personage, the upper gardener himself, left, with a contented look, the place where he practised his blooming and sweet-scented science.
Our little friend Athalwin, with his crown of bright golden hair, was just issuing from the stables.
"Don't forget, Kakus," he cried, "to throw a rusty nail into the water-bucket. Wachis spoke of it particularly. Then he need not beat thee when he comes home."
And he banged the door to.
"Nothing but trouble with these Italian servants," said the little master, with an air of importance. "Since father went away, and Wachis joined him in the camp, everything lies upon my shoulders; for mother is enough for the maids, but the men need a master."
And the little lad marched with great gravity across the yard.
"And they have no proper respect for me," he continued, pouting his cherry lips and ruffing his white forehead. "How should they? At the next equinox I shall be fully nine years old, and they still let me go about with a thing like a kitchen spoon;" and he pulled contemptuously at the little wooden sword hanging to his belt.
"They ought to give me a hunting-knife, a real weapon. With this I can do nothing, and I look like nothing!"
Yet he looked very lovely, like an angry Cupid, in his short sleeveless coat of the finest white linen, which the loving hand of his mother had spun, sewed, and embroidered with an ornamental red stripe.
"I should like very much to run into the fields and get the wild flowers for mother which she loves so much, far more than our finest garden flowers; but I must look round before they shut the doors, for, 'Athalwin,' said father, as he left us, 'take good care of the place, and protect thy mother. I rely upon thee;' and I shook hands upon it, so I must keep my word."
So saying, he went across the yard, past the front of the dwelling-house, looked into all the offices on the left, and was just about to turn to the back of the square court, when he was attracted by the loud barking of some young dogs at a noise which was heard behind the wooden fence which enclosed the whole.
He went towards the corner, and started back in surprise; for on the fence sat, or rather climbed, a strange figure.
It was a tall, haggard old man in a coarse doublet of rough cloth, such as was worn by mountain shepherds; instead of a mantle, an immense undressed wolfskin hung over his shoulders, and in his right hand he carried a long staff with a steel point, with which he warded off the dogs, who angrily sprang at the fence.
The boy ran up.
"Stop, thou strange man! What art thou doing at my fence? Wilt get down at once!"
The old man started, and looked keenly at the handsome boy.
"Down, I say!" repeated the lad.
"Is this the way one greets a tired wanderer at this house!" asked the intruder.
"Yes, when the tired wanderer climbs over the back fence. Art thou honest and meanest honestly--in front stands the great yard-gate wide open; come in there!"
"I know that very well."
And the man prepared to climb down into the courtyard.
"Stop!" cried the boy angrily; "thou shalt not come down there. At him, Gruffo! At him, Wulfo! And if thou art not afraid of the two young ones, I will call the old one! Then take care! Hey! Thursa! Thursa! stop him!"
At this cry an immense bristly grey wolf-hound darted round the corner of the stable with a furious bark, and was about to spring at the intruder's throat. But she had scarcely reached the fence, when her rage was suddenly changed into joy; she ceased to bark, and, wagging her tail, sprang up to the old man, who now climbed leisurely down.
"Yes, yes, Thursa, faithful bitch, we remember each other," he said. "Now tell me, little man, what is thy name?"
"I am called Athalwin," answered the boy, retreating shyly; "but thou--I believe thou hast bewitched the dog--what art thou called?"
"Like thee," said the old man, in a more friendly manner; "I am glad thou hast my name. But be quiet; I am no robber! Lead me to thy mother, that I may tell her how bravely thou hast defended thy home."
And so the two adversaries walked peacefully into the house, Thursa leaping on in front with joyful barks.
The Gothic housewife had changed, with slight alteration, the Corinthian atrium of this Roman villa, with its rows of pillars on four sides, into the hall of the Germanic dwelling.
In the absence of her husband it was not wanted for gay hospitality, and Rauthgundis had brought her maids here from the women's room, to enjoy the larger space and fresher air.
There sat a long row of Gothic maidens with their noisy spindles; opposite to them a few Roman women slaves, occupied in finer work.
In the middle of the hall walked Rauthgundis, and let her own swiftly-turning spindle dance upon the smooth mosaic pavement, at the same time turning frequently to look at the maids.
Her dark-blue dress of home manufacture was gathered up above one knee, and puffed out over a belt of steel rings, which, her only ornament, bore a bunch of keys.
Her auburn hair was combed, back from the brow and temples, and twined into a simple knot at the back of the head.
There was much simple dignity in her aspect as she paced the room with grave and examining looks. She went up to one of the youngest of the maids, who sat lowest in the row, and bent over her.
"Well done, Liuta," she said; "thy thread is smooth, and thou hast not so often looked up at the door to-day. Certainly," she added with a smile, "there is not much merit in that, as Wachis cannot enter."
The young girl blushed.
Rauthgundis laid her hand kindly upon her smooth hair.
"I know," she said, "that thou art angry with me in secret, because I made thee, the betrothed, work all this year an hour longer, morning and evening, than the other maids. It was cruel, was it not? Well, see! it was for thine own good. All that thou hast spun this year of my best flax is thine; I give it thee for thy new household. Then thou wilt not need to spin next year, the first of thy married life."
The girl took her hand, and looked up gratefully, with tearful eyes.
"Andyouthey call hard and severe!" was all that she could say.
"Mild with the good, severe with the bad, Liuta. All that is under my care is the property of my husband, and the inheritance of my boy. Therefore I must be strict."
Just then the old man and Athalwin appeared at the door. The boy wanted to call out, but the old man held his hand over his mouth, and, for a while, observed unremarked the actions of Rauthgundis as she examined the maids' work, praised, scolded, and arranged new tasks.
"Yes," at last said the old man to himself, "she looks very stately, and seems to be mistress in the house--yet, who knows all!"
And now it was no more possible to hold Athalwin back.
"Mother!" he cried, "a strange man! who has bewitched Thursa, and climbed over the fence, and wants to come to thee! I cannot understand it!"
The stately woman turned to the door with dignity, holding her hand over her eyes, to shade them from the dazzling evening sun, which shone full into the doorway.
"Why dost thou lead the guest here? Thou knowest that thy father is not at home. Take him into the men's hall; his place is not here with me."
"But it is, Rauthgundis! Here, with thee, is my place!" cried the old man, coming forward.
"Father!" cried Rauthgundis, and threw herself into the stranger's arms.
Puzzled, and not without displeasure, Athalwin looked on at this meeting.
"So thou art grandfather, who lives up in the northern mountains? God be with thee, grandfather! But why didst thou not tell me at once? And why didst thou not come through the gate, like other honest folk?"
The old man held his daughter by both hands, and looked inquiringly into her eyes.
"She looks happy and blooming," he murmured to himself.
Rauthgundis composed herself. She cast a quick look round the hall.
All the spindles had ceased whirling--except Liuta's--all eyes were curiously fixed upon the old man.
"Will you spin directly, curious girls!" cried Rauthgundis reprovingly. "Thou, Marcia, hast let the flax fell with thy staring; thou knowest the custom--thou wilt spin another spoolful. You others can leave your work. Come, father! Liuta, prepare a tepid bath, and meat and wine----"
"No," said the old man; "the old peasant in the mountains has only the waterfall for bath and drink. And as to eating--outside the fence, near the boundary-stone, lies my knapsack; fetch it for me. There I have my wheaten bread and my sheep's-milk cheese.--What cattle hast thou in the stall, and horses in the pasture?"
It was his first question.
An hour after--it was already dark, and little Athalwin had gone to bed, shaking his head over his grandfather--father and daughter wandered into the open air in the light of the rising moon.
"I have not air enough inside," the old man had said.
They spoke much and earnestly as they walked up and down the court-yard and garden. Between whiles, the old man put questions about the household, such as were suggested by the implements or buildings near him; and in his tone lay no tenderness; only sometimes he secretly examined the countenance of his child with a loving look.
"Do cease talking about rye and horses," at last said Rauthgundis, "and tell me how it has gone with thee these long years? And what has at last brought thee down from the mountains to thy children?"
"How has it gone with me? pretty lonely! lonely! and cold winters! Yes, it is not so pleasant and warm up there as here in the Italian valley."
He spoke as if in reproach.
"Why did I come down? Well, last year the breeding-bull fell down from theFirn-joch, and so I wanted to buy another here."
Rauthgundis could no longer contain herself; she affectionately embraced the old man and cried:
"And no bull was to be found nearer than here? Do not lie, father, to thine own heart and to thine own child. Thou art come because thou couldst not help it, because thou couldst no more endure thy longing for thy child!"
The old man stroked her hair.
"How dost thou know that? Well, yes, I wanted to see how it went with thee, and howhekeeps thee--the Gothic Earl!"
"Like the apple of his eye!" cried Rauthgundis joyfully.
"Indeed? Why, then, is he not at home with wife and child in his house and farm?"
"He serves in the King's army."
"Yes, that is just it! What has he to do with service and a king? But, tell me, why dost not wear a golden bracelet? A Gothic woman once came our way from the Italian valleys, five years ago; she had gold a hand broad. Then I thought, such thy daughter wears. And I was pleased, and now----"
Rauthgundis smiled.
"Shall I wear gold to please my maids? I only put on ornaments when Witichis sees me."
"Indeed! May he deserve it! But thouhastgolden brooches and rings, like other Gothic wives down here?"
"More than others--chests full. Witichis brought a great booty from the wars."
"So thou art quite happy?"
"Quite, father, but not because of the gold bracelets."
"Hast thou nothing to complain of? Only tell me, child! Whatever it may be, tell it to thy old father, and he will see thee righted."
Rauthgundis stopped short in her walk.
"Father, speak not thus! Thou art wrong to speak so, nor is it right for me to listen. Cast it off, this unhappy delusion, as if I must necessarily be unhappy because I came into the valley. I verily believe this fear alone has brought thee down."
"That alone!" cried the old man, striking his staff upon the ground. "And thou callest thy father's deepest conviction a delusion! Last night I saw thee and Witichis in a dream. He banqueted in a gilded hall, among proud men and lovely women, richly clothed; but thou wert standing outside the door in a beggar's dress, and wept bitter tears and called to him. But he said, 'Who is this woman? I know her not!' And I could no longer rest upon the mountains. Something drew me down; I felt obliged to come and see if my child was well cared for in the valley; and I wished to surprise him, therefore I would not enter thy house by the gate."
"Father," said Rauthgundis angrily, "one should not think such things, even in a dream. Thy mistrust----"
"Mistrust? I trust no one but myself, and the dream told me distinctly that a misfortune threatens thee! Avoid it! Take thy boy and go back with me; only for a short time. Believe me, thon wilt quickly love again the free air up there, where one can overlook all the land."
"I leave my husband? Never!"
"Has he not left thee? The court, and the service of kings, is more to him than wife and child! Then let him have his will."
"Father," said Rauthgundis, grasping his hand, "not a word more. Didst thou, then, not love my mother, that thou canst speak so to a wedded wife? My Witichis is all in all to me; the air and light of life. And he loves me with all his faithful heart; we are one. And if he thinks it right to work and act apart from me, then itisright. He serves the cause of his people, and between me and him there shall not be a word, not a shadow, not even a father!"
The old man was silent, but his doubts were not removed.
"Why," he re-commenced after a pause, "why does he not take thee with him, if he has such important affairs at court? Is he ashamed of the peasant's daughter?" and he struck his staff angrily on the ground.
"Anger blinds thee! Thou art vexed because he has taken me away from the mountain into the Italian valley, and art equally vexed because he does not take me to Rome, amongst the Italians!"
"And thou shalt not go there! But he ought to wish it; he ought not to be able to live without thee. But the King's general is no doubt ashamed of the peasant's child."
Just then, before Rauthgundis could answer, a horseman galloped up to the closed gate, before which they happened to be standing.
"Up! open!" he cried, striking the gate-post with his war-club.
"Who is there!" asked the old man cautiously.
"Open! A king's messenger should not be kept waiting so!"
"It is Wachis!" exclaimed Rauthgundis, pushing back the heavy bolt. "What brings thee back so unexpectedly!"
"It is you who open to me!" cried the faithful man. "Oh, hail! all hail, Queen of the Goths! Your lord is chosen King. With my own eyes I saw him lifted upon the shield! He greets you, and calls you and Athalwin to Rome. In three days you must depart."
In the midst of all her fright and surprise and joy and questioning, Rauthgundis could not help casting a joyful and proud look at her father. Then she threw herself upon his neck and wept.
"Well, father," she asked, when she had again composed herself, "what sayest thou now?"
"What do I say? The misfortune that I foresaw has come! Even to-night will I return to my mountains!"