Many days passed before Mataswintha fully recovered from the delirium of fever and the uneasy slumbers, haunted by terrible dreams, which followed.
She had become dull and impassive to all that passed around her, taking no interest in the great changes which were in preparation. She appeared to have no other feeling than that of the enormity of her crime. The triumphal exultation which she had felt while rushing through the night with her torch, had given place to devouring remorse, horror, and dread.
At the moment of committing the wicked deed, the earthquake had thrown her upon her knees, and in her excitement, in the pang of awakening conscience, she thought that the very earth was rising up against her, and that the judgment of Heaven was about to fall upon her guilty head.
And when, on reaching her chamber, she presently saw the flames, which her own hand had kindled, reddening all the sky; when she heard the cries and lamentations of Ravennese and Goths; the flames seemed to scorch her heart and every cry to call down curses upon her.
She lost her senses; she was overwhelmed by the consequences of her deed.
When she came to herself and gradually recollected all that had passed, her hatred of the King was completely spent. Her soul was bowed down; she was filled with deep remorse; and a terrible fear of ever having to appear before him again came upon her, for she well knew, and now heard from all sides, that the destruction of the magazines would oblige the King to surrender to his enemies.
Himself she did not see. Even when he found a moment in which to ask personally after her health, she had conjured the astonished Aspa on no account to let him approach her, although she had left her couch many days ago, and had frequently admitted the poor of the city; had, indeed, invited the sufferers to apply to her for help.
At such times she had given the provisions intended for herself and her attendants to the poor with her own hands, and divided amongst them her jewels and gold with unlimited generosity.
It was one of these visits that she was expecting, after having been petitioned by a man in a brown mantle and steel cap to grant a private audience to a poor woman of her nation. "She has a message which concerns the King. She has to warn you of some treachery which threatens his crown and perhaps his life," the man had said.
Mataswintha at once granted his request.
Even if it were a mistake, an excuse, she could now never more refuse to admit any one who came with a message concerning the King's safety. She ordered the woman to come at sunset.
The sun had gone down.
In the south there is almost no twilight, and it was nearly dark when a slave beckoned to the woman, who had been waiting in the court for some time, to come forward.
The Queen, sick and sleepless during the night, had only fallen asleep at the eighth hour. She had just awoke, and was very weak. Notwithstanding, she would receive the woman, because she said her message concerned the King.
"But is that really true?" inquired the slave----it was Aspa. "I should not like to disturb my mistress without cause. If you only want gold, say so freely; you shall have as much as you wish--only spare my mistress. Does it really concern the King?"
"It does."
With a sigh, Aspa led the woman into the Queen's chamber.
The form of Mataswintha, clad in light white garments, her head and hair covered by a folded kerchief, was relieved against the dark background of the spacious chamber, lying upon a couch, near which stood a round table in mosaic. The golden lamp, which was fixed to the wall above the table, shed a faint light.
Mataswintha rose and seated herself, with an air of fatigue, upon the edge of her couch.
"Draw near," she said to the woman. "Thy message concerns the King? Why dost thou hesitate? Speak!"
The woman pointed at Aspa.
"She is silent and faithful."
"She is a woman."
At a sign from the Queen, the slave reluctantly left the room.
"Daughter of the Amelungs, I know that nothing but the strait in which the kingdom stood, and not love, led thee to Witichis.--(How lovely she is, although pale as death!)--Yet thou art the Queen of the Goths--his Queen--and even if thou dost not love him, his kingdom, his triumph, must be all in all to thee."
Mataswintha grasped the gilded arm of her couch.
"So thinks every beggar in the nation!" she sighed.
"To the King I cannot speak, for special reasons," continued the woman. "Therefore I speak to thee whose province it is to succour and warn him against treason. Listen to me." And she drew nearer, looking keenly at the Queen.--"How strange," she said to herself; "what similarity of form!"
"Treason! still more treason?"
"So thou too suspectest treason?"
"It is no matter. From whom? From Byzantium? From without? From the Prefect?"
"No," the woman answered, shaking her head. "Not from without; from within. Not from a man; from a woman."
"What dost thou say?" asked Mataswintha, turning still paler. "How can a woman----"
"Injure the hero? In the devilish wickedness of her heart. Not openly, but by cunning and treachery; perhaps with secret poison, as has already happened; perhaps with secret fire."
"Hold!"
Mataswintha, who had just risen, staggered back to the table and leaned upon it. But the woman followed her and whispered softly:
"I must tell thee of an incredible, shameful act! The King and the people believe that the lightning set the magazines on fire, but I know better. Andheshall know it. He shall be warned bythee, so that he may discover the rank offender. That night I saw a torch-light passing through the galleries of the magazines, and it was carried by a woman.Herhand cast it amongst the stores! Thou shudderest? Yes, awoman. Wherefore wilt thou go? Hear one other word, and I will leave thee. The name? I do not know it. But the woman fell just at my feet, and, recovering, escaped; but as she went, she lost a sign and means of recognition--this snake of emeralds."
And the woman held up a bracelet in the light of the lamp.
Mataswintha, tortured to death, started upright. She held both arms over her face. The hasty movement disturbed her kerchief. Her red-gold hair fell over her shoulders, and through the hair gleamed a golden bracelet with an emerald snake, which encircled her left arm.
The woman saw it and screamed:
"Ha! by the God of the faithful! It was thou--thou thyself!HisQueen--hiswifehas betrayed him! He shall know it! Curses upon thee!"
With a piercing cry, Mataswintha fell back upon her couch and buried her face in the cushions.
The scream brought Aspa from the adjoining room. But when she entered, the Queen was alone.
The curtain of the door still rustled. The beggar had disappeared.
The next morning Procopius, Johannes, Demetrius, Bessas, Acacius, Vitalius, and many other Byzantine leaders arrived in the city, and, to the great astonishment of the Ravennese, entered the King's palace.
They assembled there to take counsel as to particular stipulations, and to decide upon the form of surrender.
Meanwhile the Goths heard only that peace was concluded. The two principal considerations, for the sake of which they had endured all the grievous war, were obtained. They would be free, and remain in undisturbed possession of the lovely Southland, which had become so dear to them. That was far more than could have been expected, considering the desperate state at which the Gothic cause had arrived since the retreat from Rome and the inevitable loss of Ravenna; and the heads of the great families, and other influential men in the army, who were now made acquainted with the intentions of Belisarius, were completely satisfied with the conditions agreed upon.
The few who refused acquiescence were freely allowed to depart from Ravenna and Italy.
But, apart from this, the Gothic army in Ravenna had already been dispersed in all directions.
Witichis saw that it was impossible to feed the Gothic army and the population, as well as the hosts of Belisarius, from the produce of the exhausted land; he therefore agreed to the proposal of Belisarius, that the Goths, in companies of a hundred or a thousand, should be led out of the gates of the city and dismissed in all directions to their native places.
Belisarius feared the outbreak of despair when the terrible treachery practised should become known, and he therefore wished for the speedy dispersal of the disbanded army. Once in Ravenna, he hoped to be able to quell any possible rebellion in the open country without difficulty.
Tarvisium, Verona, and Ticinum, the last strongholds of the Goths in Italy, could not then, for any length of time, resist the forces which would be sent against them.
The execution of these measures was the work of many days. Only when very few Goths were left in Ravenna did Belisarius decide upon entering the city. And even of the few who remained, half were transferred to the Byzantine camp, the other half being divided amongst the different quarters of the city, under the pretext of being ready to crush any possible resistance on the part of Justinian's adherents.
But what surprised the Ravennese and the uninitiated Goths the most was, that the blue Gothic flag still waved upon the roof of the palace. Certainly it was guarded by a Byzantine instead of by a Gothic sentinel. For the palace was already full of Byzantines.
Belisarius had taken particular measures against any attempt of the Prefect to make himself master of the city, as he had done of Rome.
Cethegus saw through this and smiled. He did nothing to prevent it.
On the morning of the day appointed for the entrance, Cethegus entered the tent of Belisarius, clad in a magnificent suit of armour. He found only Procopius.
"Are you ready!" he asked.
"Perfectly."
"At what time shall it take place?"
"At the moment when the King mounts his horse in the courtyard of the palace in order to ride to meet Belisarius. We have thought of everything."
"Once more of everything!" said Cethegus, with a laugh. "Yet one thing you have left to me. It is certain that as soon as our plan has succeeded and become known, that the barbarians all over the country will fly into a rage. Revenge and compassion for their King may cause them to commit furious deeds. But all their enthusiasm for Witichis and anger against us would be nipped in the bud; they would consider themselves betrayed by their King, and not by us, if we could get him to sign a document to the purport that he did not surrender the city to Belisarius as the King of the Goths and a rebel against the Emperor, but simply to Justinian's commander-in-chief. Then the revolt of Belisarius, which will actually not take place, would seem to the Goths to have been a mere lie invented by their King in order to hide from them the shame of the surrender."
"That would be excellent; but Witichis will not do it."
"Knowingly, scarcely; but perhaps unknowingly. He has only signed the treaty in the original yet?"
"He has signed only once."
"And the document is in his possession? Good. I will make him sign the duplicate which I have drawn up, so that Belisarius also may possess the valuable document."
Procopius looked at it.
"If he sign this, then, indeed, not a Goth will raise his sword in his defence. But----"
"Let me manage the 'buts.' Either he will voluntarily sign it to-day, unread, under pressure of the moment----"
"Or?"
"Or," concluded Cethegus gloomily, "he will sign it later, against his will. I will now go before you. Excuse me if I do not assist at your triumphal procession. Many congratulations to Belisarius."
But as he turned to go, Belisarius himself entered the tent, unarmed, and looking very sullen. He was followed by Antonina.
"Hasten, general," cried Procopius, "Ravenna waits for her conqueror. The entrance----"
"Speak not of it!" cried Belisarius angrily. "I regret the whole affair! Recall the soldiers!"
Cethegus remained standing at the entrance of the tent.
"Belisarius!" cried Procopius, horrified, "what demon has put you into this temper?"
"I!" said Antonina proudly. "What do you say now?"
"I say that great statesmen have no business with wives," cried Procopius angrily.
"Belisarius told me your intentions only last night," said Antonina, "and with tears----"
"Of course!" grumbled Procopius. "Tears always come when wanted."
"With tears I prayed him to refrain. I cannot bear to see my hero so spotted with black treachery."
"And I will not be so," said Belisarius. "Rather would I ride into Orcus a prisoner, than assucha conqueror into Ravenna! My letters to the Emperor have not yet been sent away--so there is still time----"
"No!" cried Cethegus imperiously, coming forward from the doorway, "fortunately for you there isnotstill time. I wrote to the Emperor eight days ago, told him all, and congratulated him on his general's having won Ravenna and put an end to the war without the slightest loss."
"Indeed, Prefect!" cried Belisarius. "You are very ready! Wherefore this zeal?"
"Because I know Belisarius and his wavering mind. Because you must beforcedinto taking advantage of your good fortune, and because I wish to make an end to this war which so cruelly devastates my Italy!"
And he approached Antonina threateningly, who again could not avoid the demonic fascination of his glance.
"Dare it! try it now! Dare to retreat, to undeceive Witichis, and sacrifice Ravenna, Italy, and your whole army to a whim of your wife! Then see if Justinian would ever forgive you! On Antonina's soul the guilt! Hark! the trumpets sound! Arm yourself! There is no choice!"
And he hurried out.
Antonina looked after him in dismay.
"Procopius," she asked, "does the Emperor really know it already?"
"Even if he did not, too many are initiated into our secret. In all cases he would learn afterwards that Ravenna and Italy were his, and--that Belisarius strove for the Gothic and the imperial crown. Nothing can justify Belisarius in the Emperor's eyes, except the fact of gaining Ravenna, and delivering it to Justinian."
"Yes," said Belisarius, sighing, "he is right. I have no choice left."
"Then go!" said Antonina, intimidated. "But excuse me from accompanying you. It is no triumph, but a laying of a trap."
The population of Ravenna, although in the dark as to the particular conditions, were still certain that peace was concluded, and the long and terrible suffering they had endured at an end. In their joy at this deliverance, the citizens had cleared away the ruins caused by the earthquake in many of the streets, and had festively decorated the city.
Wreaths, flags, and carpets were hung out; the people crowded the forums, the canals of the lagoons, and the baths and basilicas, curious to see the hero, Belisarius, and the army which had so long threatened their walls, and had, at last, overcome the barbarians.
Already some divisions of the Byzantine army marched proudly through the gates, while the scattered and scanty Gothic patrols beheld, in silence and indignation, the entrance of their hated enemies into the residence of Theodoric.
The Gothic nobles assembled in a hall in the gaily-decorated palace, near the apartment of the King.
The latter, as the hour for the entrance of Belisarius approached, prepared to don his royal garments--with great contentment, for it was the last time that he would ever wear the signs of a dignity which had brought him nothing but pain and wretchedness.
"Go, Duke Guntharis," he said to the Wölfung, "Hildebad, my faithless chamberlain, has left me; thou, therefore, must take his place. The attendant will show thee the golden chest which contains the crown, helm, and purple mantle, the sword and shield of Theodoric. To-day, for the first and last time, I will array myself in them, in order to deliver them to a hero who will wear them not unworthily. What noise is that?"
"Sire," answered Earl Wisand, "it is a Gothic woman. She has tried to force her way in thrice already. Send her away!"
"No; tell her I will listen to her later. She shall ask for me this evening at the palace."
As Guntharis left the room, Bessas entered with Cethegus.
The Prefect had given Bessas--without initiating him into the secret--the duplicate of the capitulation, which the King had yet to sign. He thought that Witichis would take the document more unsuspiciously from an innocent hand.
Witichis greeted them as they entered; but at the sight of the Prefect there passed a shadow across his countenance, which had before been brighter than for many months. But he forced himself to say:
"You here, Prefect of Rome? The war has ended very differently to what we expected! However, you may be satisfied. At least no Grecian Emperor, no Justinian, will rule over your Rome."
"And shall not, as long as I live."
"I come, King of the Goths," interrupted Bessas, "to lay before you the treaty with Belisarius, in order that you may sign it."
"I have already done so."
"It is the duplicate intended for my master."
"Then give it me," said Witichis, and stretched out his hand to take it.
But before he could do so, Duke Guntharis hurried into the room with the attendant.
"Witichis," he cried, "the royal insignia have disappeared!"
"What sayest thou?" asked Witichis. "Hildebad alone kept the key!"
"The golden chest and other chests are gone. Within the empty niche, where they usually stood, lay this strip of parchment. The characters are those of Hildebad's secretary."
The King took it and read:
"'Crown, helm and sword, purple and shield of Theodoric are in my care. If Belisarius will have them, he may fetch them.' The Runic character H-- for Hildebad!"
"He must be followed until he yield them up," cried Cethegus.
At this moment Demetrius and Johannes hurried in.
"Make haste. King Witichis," they cried. "Do you hear the trumpets? Belisarius has already reached the Gate of Stilicho."
"Then let us go," said Witichis, allowing his attendant to place the purple mantle, which they had brought instead of the missing one, upon his shoulders, and pressing a golden coronet upon his head. Instead of the sword, a sceptre was handed to him; and thus adorned, he turned to the door.
"You have not yet signed, King," said Bessas.
"Give it to me," and now Witichis took the parchment from the hand of the Byzantine. "The document is very long," he said, glancing over it; and then began to read.
"Haste, King," said Johannes.
"There is no time to read it," said Cethegus, with an indifferent voice, and took a reed-pen from the table.
"Then there is no time to sign it," said the King. "You know I am the 'Peasant-King,' as the people call me. And a peasant never signs a letter before he has read to what he commits himself. Let us go," and, smiling, he gave the document to the Prefect and left the room.
Bessas and all present followed, except Cethegus. Cethegus crushed the document in his hand.
"Wait!" he whispered furiously. "You shall yet sign!" And he slowly followed the others.
The hall leading to the King's apartment was already empty. The Prefect went into the vaulted gallery which ran round the quadrangle of the first story of the palace. The Byzantine-Roman arches afforded a free outlook into the large courtyard. It was filled with armed men. At all the four doors were placed the Persian lance-bearers of Belisarius.
Cethegus leaned against an archway and, watching the course of events, spoke to himself.
"Well, there are Byzantines enough to take a small army prisoner! Friend Procopius is prudent. There! Witichis appears at the door. His Goths are still far behind upon the staircase. The King's horse is led forward. Bessas holds the stirrups. Witichis is close to it; he lifts his foot. Now comes a blast of trumpets. The door of the staircase is closed and the Goths shut into the palace! Procopius tears down the Gothic flag on the roof. Johannes takes the King's right arm--bravo, Johannes! The King defends himself valiantly--but his long mantle hinders him--he staggers! He falls to the ground! There lies the kingdom of the Goths!"
"There lies the kingdom of the Goths!" with these words Procopius also concluded the sentences which he wrote down in his diary that night.
"To-day I have assisted in making an important piece of history," he wrote, "and will take note of it to-night. When I saw the imperial army enter the gates and the King's palace of Ravenna, I thought that indeed it is not always merit, virtue, or number that ensures success. There is a higher power, inevitable necessity. In number and heroism the Goths were superior to us, and they did not fail in every possible exertion. The Gothic women in Ravenna scolded their husbands to their faces when they saw the slight forms, the small number of our troops as they marched in. Summa: in the most righteous cause, with the most heroic efforts, a man or a nation may succumb, if superior powers, which have not always the better right on their side, oppose him. My heart beat with a sense of wrong as I tore down the Gothic flag and set the golden Dragon of Justinian in its place, as I raised the flag of evil above the flag of righteousness. Not justice, but a necessity which is inscrutable, rules the fate of men and nations. But that does not confuse a true man. For notwhatwe do, live, or suffer--howwe do or bear it, makes a man a hero. The Goths' defeat is more honourable than our victory. And the hand which tore down their banner will chronicle the fame of this people for future generations. Notwithstanding, however that may be--there lies the kingdom of the Goths!"
Footnote 1: Procopius, in his "Wars of the Goths," vol. i., pp. 7, 18, places here, in mistake, the Tiber instead of the Anio.
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