Meantime the fugitives had happily reached the breach, where Paulus, the son of Dromon, let them pass. In the pine-grove of Diana they found their faithful Wachis and two horses.
The husband and wife mounted Wallada. The freedman took the other horse and rode off at a gallop towards the river, which at this point was very broad.
Witichis held Rauthgundis before him.
"My wife--losing thee I had lost all: life and courage. But now I will once more try for the kingdom. Oh, how could I ever let thee go, thou soul of my soul!"
"Thine arm is wounded with the chaffing of the chain. Lay it across my neck, my Witichis."
"Forward, Wallada--quick! It is for life or death!"
They now issued from the grove into the open country. They reached the shore of the river.
Wachis was trying to urge his rearing steed into the dark flood. The animal shyed and resisted.
The freedman sprang off.
"It is very deep, very rapid," he said. "For three days the river has been unusually full. The ford is useless. The horses will have to swim, and the current will drag us far to the left. There are rocks in the stream, and the moonlight is so inconstant and deceptive."
He looked doubtfully and searchingly up and down the river.
"Hark! what was that?" asked Rauthgundis. "It was not the wind in the trees."
"It is horses!" cried Witichis. "They approach rapidly. I hear the clatter of arms. There--torches! Now into the river for life or death--but softly!"
He urged his horse into the water.
"There is no footing. The horses must swim. Hold fast by the mane, Rauthgundis. Forward, Wallada!"
Snorting and trembling, the noble animal looked at the black water. His mane was blown wildly about his head--he held his fore-feet stretched out, his haunches drawn in.
"Forward, Wallada!" said Witichis, and called softly into the faithful animal's ear, "Theodoric!"
At this the charger sprang willingly into the water.
The pursuing horsemen had already galloped out of the wood, Cethegus foremost; at his side rode Syphax with a torch.
"Here the track disappears in the sand, master."
"They are in the river. Forward, Huns!"
But the horsemen drew rein and stood stock-still.
"Well, Ellak, why do you linger? At once into the flood!"
"Sir, we cannot. Before we ride into running water at night-time, we must ask forgiveness of Phug, the water-spirit. We must first pray to him."
"Pray when you are across as long as you like; but now----"
Just then a strong gust of wind blew from the river and extinguished all the torches.
The river rushed and roared.
"You see, sir, that Phug is angry."
"Be silent. Did you see nothing? There to the left."
The moon just then glanced between the driving clouds. It shone upon the light-coloured garments of Rauthgundis. She had lost her brown mantle.
"Aim quickly; there!"
"We cannot; we must first finish our worship!"
The clouds passed across the moon, and it was again quite dark.
With a curse, Cethegus snatched bow and quiver from the shoulder of the chief of the Huns.
"Come on!" cried Wachis in a low voice, when he had almost reached the opposite shore; "come quickly, before the moon issues from that narrow strip of cloud!"
"Halt, Wallada!" cried Witichis, as he dismounted in order to lighten the burden, and held fast by the horse's mane. "Here is a rock. Take care, Rauthgundis."
Horse, man, and woman were checked for a moment while balancing upon the top of the rock, past which the water rushed and gurgled in a deep whirl.
Suddenly the moon shone out clear and bright. It illuminated the surface of the stream and the group on the rock.
"It is they!" cried Cethegus, who held his bow and arrow ready.
He took a rapid aim, and pulled the string.
Whistling, the long black-feathered arrow flew from the string.
"Rauthgundis!" cried Witichis in terror; for his wife started convulsively and sank forward upon the horse's neck. But she did not utter a groan. "Rauthgundis, thou art hit?"
"I believe so. Leave me here and save thyself."
"Never! Let me support thee."
"For God's sake, sir, stoop! dive! They take aim again!"
The Huns had finished praying. They rode a short way into the water, fixing their arrows and taking aim.
"Leave me, Witichis. Fly! I will die here."
"No; I will never leave thee again!"
He lifted her out of the saddle, and tried to hide her on the rock. The group stood in the full light of the moon.
"Yield, Witichis!" cried Cethegus, spurring his horse up to its haunches in the water.
"A curse upon thee, thou traitor!" was the reply of Witichis.
Twelve arrows whizzed at once. The charger of Theodoric leaped wildly forward, and sank for ever into the flood.
But Witichis also was mortally wounded.
"With thee!" sighed Rauthgundis. She held him closely with both arms.
"With thee!"
And, locked in a fast embrace, husband and wife sank into the river.
In bitter grief, Wachis, on the farther shore, called their names. In vain. Three times he called, and then galloped away into the night.
"Get the bodies out," ordered Cethegus grimly, turning his horse to the bank.
And the Huns rode and swam to the rock, and sought for the bodies. But they sought in vain.
The rapid current had carried man and wife, united now for ever, into the free and open sea.
The same day Prince Germanus had returned from Ariminum to the harbour of Ravenna, ready to take Mataswintha to Byzantium.
The latter was only roused from the faint into which she had fallen when left by Witichis and Rauthgundis, by the noise of the hammers with which the work-people broke open the passage to liberate the soldiers.
The Princess was found crouching upon the steps of the prison. She was carried up to her chamber in a high fever. She lay for hours upon her purple cushions without moving or speaking, her eyes fixed in a wild stare.
Towards noon Cethegus asked for admission.
His look was dark and threatening; his expression cold as ice.
He went up to Mataswintha's couch.
"He is dead!" she quietly said.
"He would not have it otherwise. He--and you. It is useless to reproach you. But you see what ensues when you oppose me. The report of his death will inevitably rouse the barbarians to new fury. You have created a difficult task for me; for you only are the cause of his flight and death. The least that you can do to atone for this is to fulfil my second wish. Prince Germanus has landed. He comes to fetch you. You will follow him."
"Where is the corpse?"
"It has not been found. The current has carried it away; his body and--the woman's."
Mataswintha's lips twitched.
"Even in death! She died with him?"
"Think no more of the dead. In two hours I will return with the Prince. Will you then be prepared to welcome him?"
"I shall be ready."
"'Tis well. We will be punctual."
"I also. Aspa, call all my slaves; they shall adorn me richly to meet this Prince. Diadem, purple, and silk."
"She has lost her senses," Cethegus said to himself as he left the room. "But women are tough; she will recover them. These women can live, even when their hearts are broken."
He went to console the impatient Prince.
Before the expiration of the time appointed, a slave came to invite the two men to come to the Queen.
Germanus crossed the threshold of her room with a rapid step. But he stood still astonished. He had never seen the Gothic Princess looking so lovely, so queenly.
She had placed a high golden diadem upon her shining hair, which fell over her shoulders in two thick tresses. Her under-dress of heavy white silk, embroidered with golden flowers, was only visible below the knee, for the upper part of her body was covered by the royal purple. Her face was white and cold as marble: her eyes blazed with a strange and supernatural light.
"Prince Germanus," she said, as he entered, "you once spoke to me of love; but do you know of what you spoke? To love is to die."
Germanus looked inquiringly at the Prefect, who now came forward.
He was about to speak, but Mataswintha, in a clear loud voice, recommenced:
"Prince Germanus, you are famed as the most highly-cultivated man of a learned court, where it is a favourite pastime to practise the solving of finely-pointed riddles. I also will put to you a riddle; see to it that you solve it. Let the clever Prefect, who so well understands human nature, help you. What is this?--A wife, and yet a maid; a widow, and yet no wife? You cannot guess? You are right; death alone resolves all riddles!"
With a sudden movement, she cast off her purple robe.
There was a flash of steel! She had stabbed herself to the heart.
With a shriek, Germanus and Aspa (who had stood behind) sprang forward.
Cethegus silently caught the falling figure.
She died as soon as he drew the sword from her breast. He knew the sword. He himself had sent it to her.
It was the sword of King Witichis.
"Well for us that this sunny youth still lives!"--Margrave Ruediger of Bechelaren, Act i., Scene i.
A few days after the death of Mataswintha and the departure of Prince Germanus, who was deeply shocked by the sad event, a message came from Castra Nova, which rendered necessary the march of Byzantine troops from Ravenna.
Hildebad had been informed, by fugitive Goths, who had made their way in disguise through the lines of the besiegers, of the treacherous imprisonment of the King.
On hearing the news, he sent word to Cethegus and Belisarius, through some prisoners whom he released, that he challenged them, either together or singly, to mortal combat, "if they had a drop of courage in their veins, or a trace of honour in their souls."
"He thinks that Belisarius is still in the country, and does not seem to fear him greatly," said Bessas.
"This might be a means," said Cethegus cunningly, of ruining the turbulent fellow. "But, certainly, it needs great courage--such courage as Belisarius possesses."
"You know that I do not yield to him a jot in that," answered Bessas.
"Good," said Cethegus. "Then follow me to my house. I will show you how to destroy this giant. You shall succeed where Belisarius failed." But he said to himself, "Bessas is indeed a tolerably bad commander; but Demetrius is still worse, and therefore easier to lead. And I owe Bessas a grudge for that affair of the Tiburtinian Gate at Rome."
The Prefect had not without reason feared that the almost extinguished resistance of the Goths would be renewed on hearing of the treason practised on their King.
No exact report had yet reached old Hildebrand at Verona, Totila at Tarvisium, or Teja at Ticinum.
They had only heard that Ravenna had fallen, and that the King was imprisoned.
Vague rumours of treachery accompanied this report, and the friends of the King, in their pain and anger, were persuaded that the fall of the strong fortress and of the brave King had not been effected by honest means.
Instead of discouraging them, this misfortune only increased the strength of their resistance.
They weakened their besiegers by repeated and successful sallies.
And the enemy felt almost constrained to raise the siege, for already signs of an important change of circumstance crowded upon them from all sides.
This change was, in fact, a rapidly progressing reversion of feeling in the Italian population, at least of the middle classes: the merchants and artisans of the towns; the peasants and farmers of the country.
The Italians had everywhere greeted the Byzantines as liberators.
But after a short period their exultation died away.
Whole troops of officials followed Belisarius from Byzantium, sent by Justinian to reap without delay the fruits of the war, and to fill the ever-empty treasury of the East with the riches of Italy.
In the midst of all the suffering caused by the war, these zealous officials began their work.
As soon as Belisarius had occupied a town, his treasurer summoned all free citizens to the Curia or to the Forum; ordered them to divide themselves into six classes according to their wealth, and then called upon each class to value the property of the class above it.
According to this valuation, the imperial officials then laid the highest possible tax upon each class.
And, as these officials were almost necessitated, because of the retention and curtailment of their never punctually paid salaries, to think of filling their own pockets as well as the Emperor's treasury, the oppression they put in practice became intolerable.
They were not content with the high rates which the Emperor required to be paid in advance for three years; the special tax laid upon every liberated town of Italy as a "gratitude tax"--besides the large contributions and requisitions which Belisarius and his generals were obliged to demand for the use of the army--for neither gold nor provisions came from Byzantium--but every official sought to extort special payments, by special means, out of the richer citizens.
They everywhere ordered a revision of the tax-lists, discovered arrears owing since the times of the Gothic Kings, even from the days of Odoacer, and left the citizens the option of paying immense sums for indemnity or of carrying on a ruinous lawsuit with Justinian's fiscus, who scarcely ever lost one.
But if the tax-lists were incomplete or destroyed--which happened often enough in those times of war--the accountants arbitrarily reconstructed them.
In short, all the arts of finance which had ruined the provinces of the Eastern Empire were practised in Italy, after the landing of Belisarius, as far as imperial arms could reach.
Without consideration for the misery of war-time, the tax executors unyoked the oxen of the peasant from the plough, took his tools from the workshop of the artisan, and his wares from the house of the merchant.
In many towns the people rebelled against their oppressors and drove them away; but they only returned in larger numbers with severer measures.
The Mauretanian horsemen of Justinian, with African bloodhounds, hunted the desperate peasants from their hiding-places in the woods, whither they had fled to escape the tax-gatherer. And Cethegus, who alone was in a position to check such deeds, looked on with calculating coolness.
He desired that, before the end of the war, all Italy should have become acquainted with the tyranny of Byzantium, for then it would be a lighter task for him to persuade the people to rise and, when they had got rid of the Goths, to throw off the burden of the Byzantines. He listened to the complaints of the deputations from various towns, who appealed to him for assistance, with a shrug and the laconic answer:
"That is only Byzantine government--you must get used to it."
"No," had answered the deputation from Rome, "one does not get accustomed to what is unbearable. The Emperor may live to see that of which he has never even dreamed!"
To Cethegus this could only mean the independence of Italy; he knew of nothing else.
But he was mistaken.
Although he thought meanly enough of his countrymen and the times in which he lived, he yet believed that he could elevate them by example.
But the thought so natural to his spirit; as necessary to him as the air he breathed--the freedom and independence of Italy--was far too grand for the comprehension of that generation.
They could only vacillate between two masters.
And when the yoke of Byzantium proved unbearable they began to recall to their memory the milder rule of the Goths; a possibility which had never entered the Prefect's head.
And yet such was the case.
Before Tarvisium, Ticinum, and Verona, there now happened on a small scale, that which was preparing on a large one in such cities as Neapolis and Rome. The Italian country-people revolted against the Byzantine officials and soldiers, and the inhabitants of the above-named three cities supported the Goths in every possible manner.
So, when Totila, backed by the armed peasants of the plains, had destroyed a great part of their works, the besiegers of Tarvisium were obliged to cease their attacks, and limit themselves to the defence of their camp, thus enabling Totila to draw supplies and soldiers from the neighbouring country.
With a more cheerful spirit than usual he one evening made his round of the walls of Tarvisium.
Rosy clouds floated across the sky, and the sun, as it sank behind the Venetian hills, gilded all the plain before him.
With emotion he watched the peasants from the neighbourhood streaming through the open gates of the city, bringing bread, meat, and wine to his half-starved Goths; who, on their part, hurried out into the open country, and Germans and Italians, embracing, celebrated the victory which they had together gained over their hated enemies.
"Is it then impossible," said Totila to himself, "to preserve and propagate this amity through the whole country? Is it a necessity that these two nations should be eternally divided? How their friendship embellishes each! Have we not also failed, in that we ever treated the Italians as the vanquished? We meet them with suspicion, instead of with generous confidence. We demand their obedience, and neglect to win their affection. And it would have been well worth the winning! Had it been won--never would Byzantium have gained a footing here! The release from my vow--Valeria--would not have been so unattainable. Would that it were permitted me to strive for this goal inmyway!"
His reflections and dreams were interrupted by a messenger from the outposts, announcing that the enemy had suddenly forsaken their camp, and were in fall retreat to the south, towards Ravenna. On the road to the west clouds of dust were seen: a large body of horsemen was approaching--probably Goths.
Totila received the news with joy, but also with doubt. He took all necessary measures against a stratagem.
But during the night his doubts were resolved. He was awakened by the news of a Gothic victory, and the arrival of the victor.
He hurried out and found Hildebrand, Teja, Thorismuth, and Wachis.
With the cry of "Victory! victory!" his friends greeted him, and Teja and Hildebrand announced that at Ticina, and Verona also, the country-people had rebelled against the Byzantines, and had aided the Goths in falling upon the besiegers, whom, after destroying their defences, they had forced to retreat.
But in spite of this joyful news, there lay in Teja's eyes and voice a deeper melancholy than usual.
"What of sorrow hast thou to communicate, beside this joy?" asked Totila.
"The shameful ruin of the best man in the world!" said Teja, and signed to Wachis, who now related the sufferings and death of the King and his wife.
"I escaped the arrows of the Huns by hiding amongst the rushes. Thus I still live. But only for one thing; that is, to revenge my master upon his betrayer and murderer--Cethegus the Prefect."
"No; the Prefect is mine!" said Teja.
"Thou, Totila, hast the first right to his life," said Hildebrand, "for thou hast a brother to revenge."
"My brother Hildebad!" cried Totila. "What of him?"
"He has been shamefully murdered by the Prefect," said Thorismuth, "before my very eyes, and I could not prevent it."
"My strong Hildebad dead!" exclaimed Totila. "Speak!"
"The hero lay with us in the Castle of Castra Nova, near Mantua," related Thorismuth. "The report of the King's treacherous death had reached us. Hildebad challenged Belisarius and Cethegus to mortal combat. Presently a herald arrived, who said that Belisarius had accepted the challenge, and expected thy brother on the plain between our walls and their camp. Thy brother set forth rejoicing; we horsemen followed. And verily, there rode out of a tent, in his golden armour, with closed helm and white plume, with his round shield--well known to us all--the hero, Belisarius. Only twelve horsemen followed him; foremost of all, Cethegus the Prefect. The other Byzantines halted just outside the camp. Hildebad ordered me to follow him with an equal number of horsemen. The two combatants greeted each other with their spears; the trumpets sounded, and Hildebad rushed at his enemy. The next moment the latter lay upon the ground, pierced through and through. Thy brother, unhurt, dismounted, crying: 'That was no thrust from Belisarius!' and opened the visor of the dying man. 'Bessas!' cried Hildebad, and looked, furious at the deception, towards his enemies. Then the Prefect gave a sign. The twelve Moorish horsemen hurled their spears, and, severely hit, thy brother fell."
Totila covered his face. Teja went sympathisingly up to him.
"Listen to the end," said Thorismuth. "When we saw this murder, we were filled with fury. We threw ourselves upon the enemy, who, trusting that we should be discouraged, pressed forward from the camp. After a hot fight, we compelled them to fly. Only the speed of his devilish horse saved the Prefect, who was wounded in the shoulder by my spear. Thy brother lived to see our victory. He caused the chest which he had brought from Ravenna to be carried down to the Castle; opened it, and said to me: 'Crown, shield, and sword of Theodoric. Take them to my brother.' And with his last breath he cried: 'He must revenge me and renew our kingdom. Tell him--that I loved him very dearly!' Then he sank back upon his shield, and his faithful soul departed."
"My brother! Oh, my beloved brother!" cried Totila, leaning against a pillar. Tears flowed from his eyes.
There was a moment of reverent silence.
Then: "Remember thine oath!" cried Hildebrand. "He was doubly thy brother! Thou wilt revenge him!"
"Yes," said Totila, and involuntarily he drew the sword--which Teja handed to him--from its sheath. "I will revenge him!"
It was the sword of Theodoric.
"And renew the kingdom," said old Hildebrand solemnly, and, taking the crown, he set it upon Totila's head. "Hail to thee, King of the Goths!"
Totila started.
He raised his left hand to the golden coronet.
"What do ye?" he exclaimed.
"That which is right. The dying hero's words were prophecy! Thou wilt surely renew the kingdom. Three victories call upon thee to take up the struggle. Remember thine oath. We are not yet defenceless. Shall we lay down our weapons? Shall we submit to treachery and tricks?"
"No," cried Totila, "that we will not. And it is well done to choose a king, as a sign of renewed hope. But here stands Earl Teja, worthier than I, of proved experience. Choose Teja!"
"No," said Teja, shaking his head, "it is thy turn first! Thy dying brother has senttheethis sword and crown. Wear them happily! If the kingdom can be saved, it is thou who canst save it; if not, an avenger must be left."
"But now," interrupted Hildebrand, "now we must hasten to sow the seeds of confidence in all hearts. This is thine office, Totila! See, the young day breaks in glory. The first rays of the sun fall into the hall and kiss, thy brow! It is a sign from the gods! Hail, King Totila--thou that shalt renew the Gothic kingdom!"
The youth pressed the glittering crown firmly upon his golden locks, and raised Theodoric's sword towards the morning sun.
"Yes!" he cried, "if human strength can do it, I will raise anew the kingdom of the Goths."
And King Totila kept his word.
Once again he raised the Goths, whose sole hold on Italy was embodied in a few thousand men and three cities, to a great power, greater even than in the days of Theodoric.
He drove the Byzantines out of all the towns of Italy, with one fatal exception.
He won back the islands of Sardinia, Corsica, and Sicilia.
And still more: he victoriously crossed the old limits of the kingdom, and, as the Emperor obstinately refused recognition of the Gothic rule and possession, sent his royal fleet to carry terror and devastation into the provinces of the Eastern Empire.
And Italy, in spite of the continuance of the war--which was never quite extinguished--bloomed under his government as in the time of Theodoric.
It is remarkable that the legends both of the Goths and Italians celebrate this fortunate King, now as the grandchild of Numa Pompilius, Titus, or Theodoric, now as the spirit of the latter, returned to earth in youthful form, to restore and bless his well-beloved kingdom.
As the morning sun, issuing from the clouds of night, irresistibly spreads light and blessing abroad, so Totila's arms brought happiness to Italy.
The dark shadows retreated step by step at his approach. Victory flew before him, and the gates of the cities and the hearts of men opened to him almost without a struggle.
The manly qualities--the genius of a general and a ruler--which had slumbered in this fair youth, which were only guessed at by Theodoric and Teja, and known to their full extent to no one, were now gloriously displayed.
The youthful freshness of his nature, far from being destroyed by the hard trials of the last years, by the sufferings which he had endured in Neapolis and before Rome, by the long absence from his beloved Valeria, from whom he was parted farther and farther by every fresh victory of the Byzantines, had only deepened into more earnest manliness. The bright sympathy of his manner remained, and cast the charm of amiability and heartfelt kindness over all his actions.
Sustained by his own ideality, he tamed trustingly to the ideal in his fellow-men; and almost all, except those governed by some diabolical power, found his confident appeal to what was noble and good irresistible.
As light illumines whatever it shines upon, so the noble-heartedness of this glorious King seemed to communicate itself to his courts to his associates, and even to his adversaries.
"He is irresistible as Apollo!" said the Italians.
More closely regarded, we find that the secret of his great and rapid success lay in the genial art with which--following the inmost impulse of his nature--he contrived to transmute the bitterness of the Italians against Byzantine oppression into sympathy with the benevolence of the Goths.
We have seen how this feeling of bitterness had taken root amongst the peasants, the farmers, the rich merchants, the artisans, and the middle and lower ranks of the citizens; in fact, among the greater part of the population.
And later, when the Goths marched to the field of battle with the jubilating cry of "Totila!" the personality of the young King completely estranged the Italians from their Byzantine oppressors, who seemed to be totally forsaken by the fortune of war.
It is true that a minority remained uninfluenced: the Orthodox Church, which knew of no peace with heretics; hard-headed Republicans; and the kernel of the Catacomb conspiracy--the proud Roman aristocrats and the friends of the Prefect. But this small minority compared to the mass of the population, was of little moment.
The King's first act was to publish a manifesto to the Goths and Italians.
It was proved to the first that the fall of King Witichis and Ravenna had been the work of superior falsehood, and not of superior strength; and the duty of revenge, begun already by three victories, was impressed upon them.
And the Italians, having now experienced what kind of exchange they had made in revolting to Byzantium, were invited to return to their old friends.
In order to favour this return, the King promised not only a general amnesty, but equal rights with the Goths; the abolition of all former Gothic privileges; the right of forming a native army; and--what was especially effective by contrast--the abolition of all taxes upon Italian soil or property until the end of the war.
Further, as the aristocracy favoured the Byzantines--the farmers, on the contrary, the Goths--it was a measure of the highest prudence which provided that every Roman noble who did not, within three months, subject himself to the Goths, should lose his landed property in favour of his former tenants.
And, lastly, the King placed a high premium, to be paid out of the royal purse, on all intermarriages between Goths and Italians, promising the settlement of the pair upon the confiscated property of Roman senators.
"Italia," concluded the manifesto, "bleeding from the wounds inflicted by the tyranny of Byzantium, shall recover and bloom again under my protection. Help us, sons of Italia, to drive from this sacred ground our common enemies, the Huns and Scythians of Justinianus. Then, in the new-born kingdom of the Italians and Goths, a new people shall arise--begotten of Italian beauty and cultivation, of Gothic strength and truth--whose nobility and splendour shall be such as the world has. never yet beheld!"
When Cethegus the Prefect, awaking at morn on the field-bed to which his wound had confined him, heard the news of Totila's accession, he sprang from his couch with a curse.
"Sir," said the Grecian physician, "you must take care of yourself and----"
"Did you not hear? Totila wears the Gothic crown! It is no time now to be prudent.--My helm, Syphax."
And he snatched the manifesto from the hand of Lucius Licinius, who had brought the news, and read eagerly.
"Is it not ridiculous--madness?" asked Lucius.
"Madness it is if the Romans be yet Romans! But are they so? If they are not--then we--and not the barbarian prince--work madness. The thing must never be put to a trial, but be at once nipped in the bud. The blow directed against the aristocracy is a masterpiece. It must not have time to take effect. Where is Demetrius?"
"He marched against Totila last evening. You were asleep. The physician forbade us to awaken you, and Demetrius also."
"Totila king, and you let me sleep! Do you not know that this flaxen-head is the very genius of the Goths? Demetrius wishes to win his laurels alone. How strong is he?"
"More than twice as strong as the Goths; twelve thousand to five thousand."
"Demetrius is lost. Up--to horse! Arm all who can carry a lance. Leave only the wounded to guard the walls. This firebrand Totila must be trampled out, or an ocean of blood cannot extinguish him. My weapons--to horse!"
"I have never seen the Prefect look so," said Lucius Licinius to the physician. "It must be fever? He grew pale."
"He is without fever."
"Then I do not comprehend it, for it cannot befear. Syphax, let us follow him."
Cethegus urged on his troop indefatigably. So indefatigably, that only a small suite of horsemen could keep up with his impatience and the swift hoofs of his war-horse.
At long intervals followed Marcus Licinius, Massurius with Cethegus's mercenaries, and Balbus with the hurriedly-armed citizens of Ravenna. For Cethegus had indeed left in the fortress only old men, women and children, and the wounded soldiers.
At last the Prefect succeeded in communicating with the rear-guard of the Byzantines.
Totila was marching from Tarvisium southwards against Ravenna.
He was joined by numerous bands of armed Italians from the provinces of Liguria, Venetia, and Æmilia, who had been roused by his manifesto into new hope and new resolve.
They desired to fight with him his first battle against the Byzantines.
"No," Totila had answered their general; "you shall decide upon what you will doafterthe battle. We Goths will fight alone. If we win, then you may join us. If we lose, then the revenge of the Byzantines will not affect you. Await the result."
The report of such magnanimous sentiments attracted many more to the Gothic flag.
Besides this, Totila's army was reinforced from hour to hour, during the march, by the arrival of Gothic warriors, who, singly, or in small bands, had come out of prison or left their hiding-places when they heard of the treachery practised on King Witichis, the accession of a new King, and the renewal of the war.
The haste with which Totila pressed forward, in order to avail himself of the enthusiasm of his troops before it had time to cool, and the zeal with which Demetrius flew to meet him, soon brought the two armies in sight of each other.
It was at the bridge across the Padus, named Pons Padi.
The Byzantines stood in the plain; they had the river, which they had crossed with half their foot, at their backs.
The Goths appeared upon the gently-sloping hills towards the north-west.
The rays of the setting sun dazzled the eyes of the Byzantines.
Totila, from the hill, observed the position of the enemy.
"The victory is mine!" he cried to his troops, and, drawing his sword, he swooped upon his enemies like a falcon on his prey.
Cethegus and his followers had reached the last deserted camp of the Byzantines shortly after sunset.
They were met by the first fugitives.
"Turn, Prefect," cried the foremost horseman, who recognised him, "turn and save yourself! Totila is upon us! He cleaved the helm and head of Artabazes, the best captain of the Armenians, with his own hand!" And the man continued his flight.
"A god led the barbarians!" cried a second. "All is lost--the commander-in-chief is taken!"
"This King Totila is irresistible!" cried a third, trying to pass the Prefect, who blocked his way.
"Tell that in hell!" cried Cethegus, and struck him to the earth. "Forward!"
But he had scarcely given the command when he recalled it.
For already whole battalions of vanquished Byzantines came flying through the wood towards him. He saw that it would be impossible to stem the flight of these masses with his small troop.
For some time he watched the movement irresolutely.
The Gothic pursuers were already visible in the distance, when Vitalius, one of Demetrius's captains, came wounded up to Cethegus.
"Oh, friend," he cried, "there is no stopping them! They will now go on till they reach Ravenna."
"I verily believe it," said Cethegus. "They will more likely carry my men away with them than stand and fight."
"And yet only the half of the victors, under Teja and Hildebrand, follow us. The King turned back already on the field of battle. I saw him withdraw his troops. He wheeled to the south-west."
"Whither?" cried Cethegus, becoming attentive. "Tell me again. Inwhatdirection?"
"He marched towards the south-west."
"He is going to Rome!" exclaimed the Prefect, and pulled his horse round so suddenly that it reared. "Follow me!--to the coast!"
"And the routed army? without leaders!" cried Lucius Licinius. "See how they fly!"
"Let them fly! Ravenna is strong. It will hold out. Do you not hear? The Goth is going toRome! We must get there before him. Follow me to the coast--the way by sea is open. To Rome!"
Lovely--famed far and wide for its beauty--is the valley in which the Passara flows from the north into the rapid Athesis, which hurries from the west to the south-east.
Like a bending figure, which leans longingly towards the beautiful Southland, the lofty Mendola rises at a distance from the right bank of the river.
Here, above the junction of the two streams, once lay the Roman settlement of Mansio Majæ.
A little farther up the river, on a dominating rock, stood the Castle of Teriolis.
Now--from a mountain-"muhr" or "mar" (landslip)--the town is called Meran.
The Castle has given its name to the Tyrol.
"Mansio Majæ" is heard even now in the name of the place "Mais," rich in pleasant villas.
But at the time of which we speak an East Gothic garrison lay in the Castle of Teriolis, as was the case in all the old Rhætian rock-nests on the Athesis, the Isarcus, and the œnus, in order to keep down the only half-subjected Suevi, Alamanni, and Markomanni, or, as they were already named, the Bajuvars, who dwelt in Rhætia, on the Licus, and on the lower course of the œnus.
But, besides the garrisons of the castles, East-Gothic families had settled in larger numbers in the mild and fruitful valley and on the willow-covered slopes of the mountains.
Even now a singular, noble, and grave beauty distinguishes the peasants of the valleys of Meran, Ultner, and Sarn. These reticent people are much more refined, pensive, and aristocratic than the Bajuvar type on the Inn, the Lech, and the Isar.
Their dialect and legends support the supposition that here some few remains of the Goths continued to flourish; for the legends of the Amelungs, Dietrich of Bern, and the Rose-garden, still live in the names of the places and the traditions of the people.
Upon one of the highest mountains on the left shore of the Athesis, a Goth named Iffa had before-times settled; his descendants continued the settlement.
The mountain is named the "Iffinger" to this day. Upon the southern slope, half-way up, the simple settlement was fixed. The Gothic emigrants had found it already cultivated. The Rhætian alpine-house, which Druses had met with when he conquered the Rasenian mountain-people, had suffered no change in its characteristic and commodious form through the Roman conquerors, who built their villas in the valley, and their watch-towers on dominating rocks.
All the Romanised inhabitants of the Eltsch valley had, after the East-Gothic invasion, remained in quiet possession of their property.
For not here, but farther east, from the Save and over the Isonzo, had the Goths pressed forward into the peninsula; and only when Ravenna and Odoacer had fallen, did Theodoric spread his hosts in a peaceful and regular manner over North Italy and the Etschland.
Thus Iffa and his people had peacefully shared the soil with the Roman settlers whom they found upon the mountain, which at that time still possessed its Rasenian name.
A third of the arable land, the meadows and woods; a third part of the house, slaves, and animals, was, here as everywhere, claimed by the Gothic settler from the Roman farmer.
In the course of years, however, the Romanhospeshad found this close and involuntary vicinity to the barbarians inconvenient. He therefore left the rest of his property on the mountains to the Goths, in exchange for thirty yoke of the splendid oxen which the Germans had brought with them from Pannonia--and which they so well understood how to breed--and went southwards, where the Romans dwelt in greater numbers.
And so the "Iffinger" had become completely Germanic, for the present master had suddenly sold the few Roman slaves which he possessed, and had replaced them by men and maids of Germanic race: Gepidians taken in war. This master was again named "Iffa," like his ancestor. He lived alone, a silver-haired man. A brother, and his wife and daughter-in-law, had, many years ago, been buried under a landslip.
A son, a younger brother, and a son of the latter, had obeyed the call of King Witichis to arms, and had never returned from the siege of Rome.
So no one was left to the old man but his two grandchildren, the boy and girl of the son who had fallen.
The sun had set gloriously behind the mountains which bordered the incomparable Etsch valley in the blue distance to the south and west.
A warm golden lustre lay upon the tender porphyry colouring of the "Iffinger," making it glow like red wine.
Up the mountain slope, upon the top of which stood a dwelling-house with a row of stalls a little apart, climbed slowly, step by step, resting ever and again, and holding her hands over her eyes as she looked at the sunset, a child--or was it already a maiden?--who was driving a flock of lambs before her.
She now and then gave herprotégéestime to crop with dainty tooth the aromatic Alpine herbs which grew in their path, and beat time with the hazel stick which she carried to an ancient and simple melody, the words of which she was softly singing:
"Little lambkins,Follow freely;By your shepherd'sHand led heedful;Like the heaven'sLovely lambkins,Like the quietSteady stars, thatShining, sparkling,Obey everTheir bright shepherd,Mustered by theMild moon ever,Without trouble,Without pause."
She ceased, and bent forward to look over into a deep ravine on her left hand, which had been hollowed out in the steep slope by a rapid mountain brook. Now, being summer, the water was very shallow. On the opposite side the hill again rose steeply upward.
"Where can he be?" the girl said; "usually his goats are already descending the hill when the sun has turned to gold. My flowers will fade soon!"
She seated herself upon a stone near the path, let the lambs graze, laid the hazel stick beside her, and allowed the apron of sheepskin, which, till now, she had held up carefully, to fall. A shower of the loveliest Alpine flowers fell to the ground.
She began to wind a wreath.
"The blue speik will suit his brown hair the best," she said as she worked busily. "I get much more tired when I drive the flock alone than when he is with me. And yet then we climb much higher. I wonder how it is! How my naked feet burn! I might go down to the brook and cool them. And then I should see him sooner when he comes along the height. The sun does not scorch any more."
She took off the large broad pumpkin leaf which she wore instead of a hat; and now was seen the shining colour of her pale golden hair--so fair it was!--which, stroked back from the temples, was tied together at the back of the head with a red ribbon. Like a flood of sunbeams it rippled over her neck, which was only covered by a white woollen kirtle, that, confined at the waist with a leather girdle, reached a little above the knees.
She measured the size of her wreath on her own head.
"Certainly," she said, "his head is larger. I will add these Alpine roses."
Then she tied the two ends of the wreath together with delicate grasses, sprang up, shook the remaining flowers from her lap, took the wreath in her left hand, and turned to descend the steep declivity, at the foot of which the brook gurgled amid the stones.
"No! stop up here and wait! Thou, too, darling White Elf! I will come back directly."
And she drove back the lambs, which had tried to follow, and which now, bleating, looked wistfully after their mistress.
With great agility the practised girl sprang down the ravine; now holding fast to the tough shrubs, spurge-olives, and yellow willow; now boldly leaping from rock to rock.
The loose stones broke and the fragments came rattling after her. As she merrily jumped after the rolling pebbles, she suddenly heard a sharp and threatening hiss from below.
Before she could turn, a great copper-brown snake, which had no doubt been disturbed from sunning itself on a stone, coiled itself up, ready to dart at her naked feet.
The child was alarmed; her knees trembled, and screaming loudly, she called:
"Adalgoth, help! help!"
A clear voice immediately replied to this cry of fear with the words, "Alaric! Alaric!" which sounded like a battle-cry.
The bushes on the right creaked and cracked; stones rolled down the slope, and, swift as an arrow, a slender boy in a rough wolf-skin flew between the hissing snake and the affrighted maiden.
He hurled his strong Alpine stick like a spear, and with so true an aim that the small head of the snake was transfixed to the ground. Its long body twined convulsively round the deadly shaft.
"Gotho, thou art not wounded?"
"No, thanks to thee, thou hero!"
"Then let me say the snake-charm before the viper ceases to struggle; it will ban all its fellows for three leagues around."
And lifting the three first fingers of his right hand, the boy repeated the ancient saying:
"Woe! thou wolf-worm,Wriggle wildly!Bite the bushes,Poisonous panting:Men and maidens,Hurt thou shalt not.Down, black devil,Venomous viper,Down and die now!High o'er the headsOf scaly-bright serpentsSteppeth the race of the glorious Goths!"