"Hear, all ye people, far and near,Hear, Byzant', to thy dole:The Gothic King, good Totila,Thrones on the Capitol/"No more is Belisarius' nameIn Rome with honour decked:Of Orcus, and no more of RomeCethegus is Prefect."Of what leaves shall we weave the crownFor good King Totila?Like sweetest rose upon his breastBlooms sweet Valeria."Peace, freedom, right, and law protectHis shield, his star, his sword:Olive, thy peaceful spray now give,Give for the peaceful Lord!"Who carried terror and revenge?Who bore the Grecians down?Come,laurel, leaf of victory,Make rich my hero's crown!"But his victorious strength grew notFrom Roma's mouldering ground:With leaves of young GermanicoakLet his young head be crowned."Hear, all ye people, far and near,Hear, Byzant', to thy dole:The Gothic King, young Totila,Thrones on the Capitol."
"Hear, all ye people, far and near,Hear, Byzant', to thy dole:The Gothic King, good Totila,Thrones on the Capitol/
"Hear, all ye people, far and near,
Hear, Byzant', to thy dole:
The Gothic King, good Totila,
Thrones on the Capitol/
"No more is Belisarius' nameIn Rome with honour decked:Of Orcus, and no more of RomeCethegus is Prefect.
"No more is Belisarius' name
In Rome with honour decked:
Of Orcus, and no more of Rome
Cethegus is Prefect.
"Of what leaves shall we weave the crownFor good King Totila?Like sweetest rose upon his breastBlooms sweet Valeria.
"Of what leaves shall we weave the crown
For good King Totila?
Like sweetest rose upon his breast
Blooms sweet Valeria.
"Peace, freedom, right, and law protectHis shield, his star, his sword:Olive, thy peaceful spray now give,Give for the peaceful Lord!
"Peace, freedom, right, and law protect
His shield, his star, his sword:
Olive, thy peaceful spray now give,
Give for the peaceful Lord!
"Who carried terror and revenge?Who bore the Grecians down?Come,laurel, leaf of victory,Make rich my hero's crown!
"Who carried terror and revenge?
Who bore the Grecians down?
Come,laurel, leaf of victory,
Make rich my hero's crown!
"But his victorious strength grew notFrom Roma's mouldering ground:With leaves of young GermanicoakLet his young head be crowned.
"But his victorious strength grew not
From Roma's mouldering ground:
With leaves of young Germanicoak
Let his young head be crowned.
"Hear, all ye people, far and near,Hear, Byzant', to thy dole:The Gothic King, young Totila,Thrones on the Capitol."
"Hear, all ye people, far and near,
Hear, Byzant', to thy dole:
The Gothic King, young Totila,
Thrones on the Capitol."
A burst of applause rewarded his song, during which a Roman youth and a Gothic maiden, kneeling before Totila and Valeria, offered each a crown of roses, laurels, olive-leaves and oak-leaves.
"Oursongs are also not quite without sweetness, Valeria," said Totila with a smile, "and not without strength and truth. I owe my life to this youthful minstrel." And he laid his hand upon Adalgoth's head. "He struck thy countryman Piso, his colleague in the art of song, most roughly upon his clever scanning fingers--as a punishment for having written many a verse to my Valeria and raised the deadly steel against me with one and the same hand!"
"There is one thing that I would rather have heard, my Adalgoth," Teja said to the boy in a low voice, "than your song of praise."
"What is that, my Earl of harp and sword?"
"The death-cry of the Prefect, whom thou hast only sent to hell in thy verse."
But Adalgoth was called away down the steps by a crowd of Gothic warriors, who would not part with him for a long time; for his song pleased the Gothic heroes who had fought with Totila much better than it will perhaps please you, my reader.
Duke Guntharis embraced and kissed Adalgoth and said, as he drew him aside:
"My young hero! What a resemblance! Whenever I see thee my first thought is: Alaric!"
"Why, that is my battle-cry!" said Adalgoth, and, engaged in conversation, they disappeared amid the crowd.
At the same time the King looked back at the vestibule of the villa, for the performance of the flute-players stationed there was suddenly interrupted.
He quickly perceived the cause and started from his seat with a cry of astonishment.
For between the two centre and flower-wreathed columns of the entrance stood a form which seemed scarcely human. A maiden of wondrous beauty, clad in a pure white garment, holding a staff in her hand, and with a wreath of star-like flowers upon her head.
"Ah! what is that? Lives this charming figure?" the King asked.
And all the guests followed the direction of the King's eyes and the movement of his hand with equal wonder, for the small opening left between the pillars by the masses of flowers was filled up by a more lovely form than their eyes had ever beheld.
The child, or girl, had fastened her shining white linen tunic upon her left shoulder with a large sapphire clasp; her broad golden girdle was set with a row of sapphires. The long and pointed sleeves of her dress fell from her shoulders like two white wings. Wreaths of ivy were twined about her whole figure; in her right hand, which rested on her bosom, she held a shepherd's staff, wreathed with flowers; her left hand carried a beautiful crown of wild-flowers and was laid upon the head of a large shaggy dog, whose neck was likewise surrounded with a wreath.
The girl looked without fear, but thoughtfully and examiningly, at the brilliant assembly. For a while the guests stared and waited, and the maiden stood motionless. Then the King left his seat, went towards her, and said with a smile:
"Welcome to our feast, if thou art an earthly being. But if--which I almost believe--thou art the lovely Queen of the Elves--why then, be welcome too! We will place a throne for thee high above the King's seat." And with a graceful action he opened both his arms, inviting her to approach.
With a light and gentle step the maiden crossed the threshold of the vestibule and, blushing, replied:
"What sweet folly speakest thou, O King! I am no queen. I am Gotho, the shepherdess. But thou--I see it more by thy clear brow than by thy diadem--thou art Totila, the King of the Goths, whom they call the 'King of joy.' I have brought flowers for thee and thy lovely bride. I heard that this feast was to celebrate a betrothal. Gotho has nothing else to give. I plucked and twined these flowers as I came through the last meadow. And now, O King, protector of the orphan's right, hear and help me!"
The King again took his place near Valeria. The maiden stood between them. Valeria took one of her hands; the King laid his hand upon her head, and said:
"I swear to protect thee and thy rights by thine own lovely head. Who art thou, and what is thy desire?"
"Sire, I am the grand-child and child of peasants. I have grown up in solitude amid the flowers of the Iffinger mountain. I had nothing dear to me on earth except my brother. He left me to seek thee. And when my grandfather felt that he was dying, he sent me to thee to find my brother and the solution of my fate. And he gave me old Hunibad from Teriolis as a companion and protector. But Hunibad's wounds were not fully healed and soon re-opened, and he was obliged to stay sick at Verona. And I had to nurse him for a long time, until at last he died too. And then I went alone, accompanied only by my faithful dog Brun, across all this wide hot country, until at last I found the city of Rome and thee. But thou keepest good order, O King, in thy land--thou deservest all praise. Thy high-roads are watched day and night by soldiers and horsemen. And they were friendly and good to the lonely wandering child. They sent me to the houses of good Goths at nightfall, where the housewife cherished me. And it is said that the law is so well obeyed in thy realm, that a golden bracelet might be laid upon the high-road, and would be found again after many many nights. In one town, Mantua, I think it was called, just as I was crossing the market-place, there was a great press, and the people ran together. And thy soldiers led forth a Roman to die there, and cried: 'Marcus Massurius must die the death, at the King's command. The King set him, a prisoner of war, free, and the insolent Roman ravished a Jewish girl. Sang Totila has renewed the law of the great Theodoric.' And they struck off his head in the open market-place, and all the people were terrified at King Totila's justice. Now, my faithful Brun, thou mayest rest here; here no one will hurt thee. I have even ornamentedhisneck with flowers to-day, in honour of thee and thy bride."
She slightly struck the powerful dog on the head; he immediately went up to the King's throne, and laid his left fore-foot confidingly upon the King's knee. And the King gave him water to drink out of a flat, golden dish.
"For golden fidelity a golden dish," he said. "But who is thy brother?"
"Well," the girl answered thoughtfully, "from what Hunibad told me during the journey and upon his sick-bed, I think that the name my brother bears is not his real one. But he is easy to be known," she added, blushing. "His locks are golden-brown; his eyes are blue as these shining stones; his voice is as clear as the note of the lark; and when he plays his harp, he looks up as if he saw the heavens open."
"Adalgoth!" cried the King.
"Adalgoth!" repeated all the guests.
The boy--he had heard the loud shout of his name--flew up the steps.
"My Gotho!" he exclaimed in a jubilant voice, and locked her in a tender embrace.
"Those two belong to each other," said Duke Guntharis, who had followed the youth.
"Like the dawn and the rising sun," added Teja.
"But now," said the girl, as she quietly withdrew from Adalgoth's arms, "let me fulfil my errand and the behest of my dying grandfather. Here, O King, take this roll and read it. In it is contained the fate of Adalgoth and Gotho; the past and the present, said our grandfather."
The King broke the seals and read:
"'This is written by Hildegisel, the son of Hildemuth, whom they call "the long;" once priest, now castellan at Teriolis. Written at the dictation of old Iffa; and it is all written down faithfully. Lo!--now it begins! The Latin is not always as good as that sung in the churches. But thou, O King, wilt understand it. For where it is bad Latin it is good Gothic. Lo!--now it really begins. Thus speaks the old man Iffa: My Lord and King Totila; the roll which is wrapped in this cover is the writing of the man Wargs, who, however, was neither my son, nor was his name Wargs--but his name was Alaric, and he was a Balthe, the banished Duke of----'"
A ay of astonishment from all present interrupted the King. He paused. But Duke Guntharis cried:
"Then Adalgoth, who calls himself the son of Wargs, is the son of Alaric! whom he himself, in his office of herald, has often, riding through the town on a white horse, loudly summoned to appear. And never saw I a greater resemblance than that between the father Alaric and the son Adalgoth."
"Hail to the Duke of Apulia!" cried Totila, with a smile, as he embraced the boy.
But, speechless with excitement, Gotho sank upon her knees, her eyes filled with tears, and, looking up at Adalgoth, she sighed:
"Then thou art not my brother! O God!--Hail, Duke of Apulia! Farewell! farewell for ever!" and she rose to her feet and turned to go.
"Not my sister!" cried Adalgoth. "That is the best thing which this dukedom brings me! Stop there!" and he caught Gotho in his arms, pressed her to his bosom, and kissed her heartily. Then he led her up to the King, saying, "Now, King Totila, unite us! Here is my bride--here is my duchess!"
And Totila, who had meanwhile cast a rapid glance over the two documents, answered smiling:
"In this case I do not need the wisdom of Solomon. Young Duke of Apulia, thus I betroth thee to thy bride." And he laid the laughing, weeping girl in Adalgoth's arms.
Then he turned to the assembled Goths, and said:
"Permit me shortly to explain to you what this writing--the Latin of which is rather rude, for Hildegisel was cleverer with the sword than the pen--contains. Here is, besides, Duke Alaric's declaration of his innocence."
"That has already been proved by his son," cried Duke Guntharis. "And I never believed in his guilt."
"Duke Alaric," continued the King, "discovered his secret accuser too late. Our Adalgoth, as you know, brought his innocence to light, when he found the hidden documents in the broken statue of Cæsar. Cethegus the Prefect had kept a sort of diary in a secret cypher. But Cassiodorus, with grief and amazement, deciphered the writing, and found an entry at the commencement of the book, written about twelve years ago, which ran thus: 'Duke Alaric condemned. That he was innocent, is now only believed by himself and his accuser. He who injures Cethegus shall not live. At the time when I woke from a death-like swoon on the banks of the Tiber, I swore to be revenged. I made a vow and it is now fulfilled.' The cause of this hatred is still a secret. But it is connected in some way with our friend Julius Montanus. Where is he?"
"He has already returned to St. Peter's with Cassiodorus," answered Earl Teja; "excuse them. Every day at this hour they pray for peace with Byzantium. And Julius," he added with a bitter smile, "prays also for the Prefect's soul."
"King Theodoric," said the King, "was hardly to be persuaded of the guilt of the brave duke, with whom he was on terms of intimate friendship."
"Yes," observed Duke Guntharis, "he once gave him a broad gold bracelet with a runic device."
The King now resumed his reading of the papers:
"'I took a bracelet given me by King Theodoric'--these are the words of the duke--'when I fled with my child. Broken in two just in the centre of the runic inscription. It will one day serve to prove the honourable birth of my son.'"
"He bears the proof on his face," cried Duke Guntharis.
"But the golden proof is also not wanting!" exclaimed Adalgoth: "at least old Iffa gave me a broken bracelet. Here it is," and he took out the half of a broken bracelet, which he carried tied to a ribbon round his neck; "I have never been able to explain the sense of these words:
"'The Amelung--The eagle--In need--The friend--'"
"Thou hast not the other half," said Gotho, and took the second half of the bracelet from her bosom. "See, here is written:
"'--to the Balthe,--to the falcon,--and death,--to the friend.'"
And now Teja, holding the two halves together, read:
"'The Amelung to the Balthe,The eagle to the falcon,In need and death,The friend to the friend.'"
But the King continued to read from the roll:
"'King Theodoric could no longer protect me when letters were laid before him, in which my handwriting was so excellently imitated that I myself, on being shown a harmless sentence which had been cut out, acknowledged without hesitation that I had written it. Then the judges fitted the piece into the parchment and read the whole to me. That letter purported to be written to the court of Byzantium, with the promise that the writer would murder the King and evacuate South Italy, if the Emperor would acknowledge him as King of North Italy. And the judges condemned me. As I was led away from the hall, I met my old friend Cethegus Cæsarius in the passage. I had some time before succeeded in persuading a girl with whom he was in love to leave him and marry a good friend of mine in Gaul. Cethegus forced his way through my guards, struck me lightly on the shoulder and said, "He from whom his love has been torn, comforts himself with revenge;" and his eyes told me that he, and no other, had been my secret accuser. As a last favour, the King procured me the means of escape. But I and all my house were outlawed. For a long time I wandered restlessly in the northern mountains, until I recollected that some old and faithful adherents of my house were settled upon the Iffinger mountain. Thither I went with my boy, taking with me a few hereditary jewels, and my faithful friends received me and my son, and hid me under the name of Wargs--the banished--and gave out that I was the son of old Iffa, sending away all untrustworthy servants who might have betrayed me. Thus I lived in secret for some years. I educate my son to be my avenger on Cethegus the traitor, and when I die, old Iffa will continue this education. I hope the day will come when my innocence will be proved. But if it delays too long, my son, when he can wield the sword, shall leave the Iffinger and go to Italy, and revenge his father upon Cethegus Cæsarius. That is my last word to my son.'--'But,'" the King now read from a second paper, "'soon after the Duke had written this, a great landslip buried him, together with some of my relations. And I, Iffa, have brought up the boy as my grandchild and Gotho's brother, for the ban had not been taken off the family of Duke Alaric, and I did not wish to expose the boy to the revenge of that devil, Cethegus. And that it might not be possible for the boy to betray anything about his dangerous parentage, I never told him of it. But when he was grown up, and I heard that there reigned in the Roman citadel a mild and just King, who had conquered the devilish Prefect as the God of Morning conquers the Giant of the Night, I sent young Adalgoth away, and told him that, according to his father's command, he must revenge the noble chief and patron of our family upon Cethegus the traitor. But I did not even then tell him that he was Alaric's son, for I feared the ban. So long as his father's innocence was unproved, his father's name could only injure him. And I sent him away in great haste, for I discovered that the belief in his brotherly relation to my grandchild, Gotho, had not prevented him from loving her in a very unbrotherly manner. I might have told him that Gotho was not his sister. But far be it from me that I should dishonestly try to unite the noble scion of my old master and patron with my blood, the simple shepherd's child. No, if justice still exists upon earth, he will soon take his place as Duke of Apulia, like his father before him. And as I fear that I may die before he sends me word of the Prefect's ruin, I have begged the long Hildegisel to write all this down.' (And I, Hildegisel, have received for the writing twenty pounds of the best cheese, and twelve jars of honey, which I thankfully acknowledge, and all of which was good.) 'And with, these writings, and with the blue stones and fine garments and golden solidi from the inheritance of the Balthes, I send my child Gotho to King Totila the Just, to whom she must reveal everything. He will take the ban away from the innocent son of the guiltless duke. And when Adalgoth knows that he is the heir of the Balthes, and that Gotho is not his sister--then he may freely choose or shun the shepherdess; but this he must know, that the race of the Iffingers was never a race of vassals, but free from the very beginning, although under the protection of the House of Balthe.
"'And now. King Totila, decide the fate of my grandchild and Adalgoth.'"
"Well," laughed the King, "thou hast spared me the trouble, Duke of Apulia!"
"And the little duchess," added Valeria, "has, as if she had foreseen what was coming, already adorned herself like a bride."
"In honour ofyou," said the shepherdess. "When I heard of this feast as I entered the gates of Roma, I opened my bundle, as my grandfather had bidden me, and put on my ornaments."
"Our betrothal," said Adalgoth to his bride, "has fallen upon the day of the King's betrothal; shall our wedding take place also on the wedding-day of the royal pair?"
"No, no!" interrupted Valeria hastily, almost anxiously. "Add no other to a vow which is yet unfulfilled! You children of Fortune, be wise. You have to-day found each other. Keep to-day fast, for to-morrow belongs to the unknown!"
"Thou speakest truth!" cried Adalgoth. "Even today shall be our wedding!" and he lifted Gotho upon his left arm, and showed her to all the people. "Look here, ye good Goths! This is my little wife and duchess!"
"With your favour!" said a modest voice. "When so much sunshine falls upon the summits and heights of the nation, the lower vegetation would also gladly share some of its warmth."
A homely-looking man approached the King, leading a pretty girl by the hand.
"Is it thou, brave Wachis?" cried Earl Teja, going up to him. "And no longer a bond-servant, but with the long hair of a freedman?"
"Yes, sir. My poor master. King Witichis, gave me my liberty when he sent me away with Mistress Rauthgundis and Wallada. Since then I have let my hair grow. And my mistress--I know it for a fact--was about to free Liuta, so that we might be married according to the law of the nation; but, alas, my mistress never returned to her home at Fæsulæ. But I returned just at the right moment to save Liuta, for the very next day the Saracens burnt the house and murdered all whom they found. After Mistress Rauthgundis's death--leaving no one to claim the inheritance, for a storm had buried her father Athalwin under an avalanche--Liuta became the King's property; and therefore I would beg the King to take me again as a bond-servant, so that we may not be punished if we marry, and----"
"Wachis, thou art indeed faithful!" cried Totila, interrupting him. "No! thou shalt contract a free marriage! Give me a gold-piece."
"Here, King Totila," said Gotho, eagerly taking one from her shepherd's bag; "it is the last of six."
The King took the gold, laid it upon Liuta's open palm, and then struck her hand from below, so that the gold-piece flew up into the air, and fell ringing upon the mosaic pavement.
Then the King said:
"Liuta, thou art free! No bonds hold thee. Go in peace and rejoice with thy bridegroom."
Earl Teja now came forward and said:
"Wachis, once before thou hast borne the shield of a luckless master. Wilt thou now become my shield-bearer?"
With tears in his eyes, Wachis clasped the hand of the Earl in both his own.
And now Teja lifted his golden goblet and solemnly said:
"Fortune befall you!Already shines on youThe shimmering sunshine:Yet thankfully thinkOf the Dear and the DeadWith reverent remembrance!He who strove unsuccessful,The world-renowned warrior:Witichis, Waltharis' worthiest son!Though you celebrate cheerilyThe feast of the fairest,The Deity's darlings,Yet honour for everThe memory mournfulOf the Great and the Good!I remind you, O revellers,To drink to the dear ones;To the manliest man,And the worthiest woman;To Rauthgundis and Witichis,Deploring, I drink!"
And all solemnly and silently returned his pledge.
Then King Totila once more raised his cup and said before all the people:
"Hedeserved!Ireceived! To him be eternal honour!"
As he resumed his place--the other two betrothed couples had been seated at the King's table--Earl Thorismuth, of Thurii (he had been rewarded for his valour by the title of Earl, but, at his own request, had retained his office of herald and shield-hearer), ascended the steps, and lowered his herald's staff before the King, saying:
"I come to announce strangers, O King of the Goths! Guests who have sailed here from afar. The large fleet, of about a hundred ships, which was reported by thy coast-guards and from the harbour-towns, has now run into the harbour of Portus. It has brought northern people, an old, brave, and seafaring folk, from the land of farthest Thule. Their dragon-ships have lofty decks, and their monstrous figure-heads terrify the beholder. But they come to thee in peace. Yesterday the flag-ship lowered its boats, and our noble guests have sailed up the river. I challenged them, and received the answer: 'King Harald of Goetaland, and Haralda (his wife, as it seems), wish to greet King Totila.'"
"Lead them to us! Duke Guntharis, Duke Adalgoth. Earl Teja, Earl Wisand, and Earl Grippa, go to meet and accompany them here."
Presently, to the sound of strange and twisted horns made of shells, and surrounded by twenty of their sailors and heroes clad in close coats of mail, there appeared on the terrace two figures which far overtopped even the slender Totila and his table companions.
King Harald bore upon his helmet the two wings--each several feet long--of the black sea-eagle. The tail-feathers of the same bird floated from his iron crest. Down his back fell the skin of a monstrous black bear, the jaws and fore-paws of which hung from broad iron rings upon his breast-plate. His coat, woven of iron wire, reached to the knee, and was confined round the hips by a broad belt of seal-skin, set with shells. His arms and legs were bare, but at once adorned and protected by broad golden bracelets. A short knife hung from a steel chain at his belt. In his right hand he carried a long forked spear like a harpoon. His thick, bright yellow hair fell like a mane low down upon his shoulders.
At his left hand stood--scarcely shorter by a finger's length--the Walkyre-like form of his female companion.
Upon her head she wore a golden open helmet, decorated with the small wings of the silver-gull. Her bright red hair, which had a metallic lustre, fell from beneath it in a long straight mass over the small strip of white bearskin which covered her back--more an ornament than a mantle--almost to her ankles.
A closely-fitting mail, made of little scales of gold, betrayed the incomparable figure of the Amazon, yielding to every movement of her heaving bosom. Her under garment, which reached half-way between the knee and ankle, was tastefully made of the white skin of the snow-hare. Her arms were covered by sleeves made of rows of amber beads, which glittered strangely in the evening rays of the southern sunshine.
Upon her left shoulder was gravely perched one of the delicate white falcons of Iceland.
A small hatchet was stuck into her girdle. She carried over her shoulder a long sweeping harp, surmounted with a swan's head and neck of silver.
The Roman populace--their eyes opened wide in wonder--pressed after these singular figures, and even the Goths could not but admire the wondrously fair complexion and the singularly light and sparkling eyes of these northerners.
"As the black hero who received me," began the Viking, "assures me that he is not the King, then no other can be he but thou," and he gave his hand to Totila, first pulling off his fighting-glove of shark's skin.
"Welcome to the Tiber, my cousins from Thuleland!" cried Totila, as he raised his cup and pledged his guests.
Seats were quickly prepared, and the royal visitors took their places at the King's table; their followers at the table near them. Adalgoth poured out wine from tall, two-handled jugs.
King Harald drank, and looked wonderingly around.
"By Asathor!" he cried; "but it is beautiful here!"
"Such I imagine Walhalla to be!" said his companion.
The Goths and the northerners could scarcely understand each other.
"If it pleases thee so well, brother," Totila slowly said, "then rest amongst us with thy wife for some time."
"Ho-ho! Rome-King!" laughed the giantess, and tossed back her head so suddenly, that the waves of her red hair shook.
The falcon flew screaming up, and circled round her head three times. It then quietly returned to her shoulder.
"The man has not yet been born," continued the Amazon, "who could conquer Haralda's heart and hand. Harald alone, my brother, can bend my arm, and spring and hurl his spear farther than I."
"Patience, my little sister! I trust that soon a man of marrow will master thy coy maidenhood. This King here, although he looks as mild as Baldur, yet resembles Sigurd, the vanquisher of Fafner. You shall vie with each other in hurling the spear."
Haralda cast a long look at the Gothic King, blushed, and pressed a kiss upon her falcon's smooth head.
But Totila said:
"Evil befell, as the singers tell us, when Sigurd strove with the Amazon. Rather let woman greet woman in peace. Give thy hand, Haralda, to my bride."
And he signed to Valeria, to whom Duke Guntharis had very imperfectly translated what was said.
Valeria rose with graceful dignity. She wore a long white Roman-Grecian garment, which hung in soft folds, and was confined at the waist by a golden girdle, and upon the shoulder with a cameo brooch. Bound her nobly-shaped head was bound a branch of laurel, which Totila had taken from Adalgoth's wreath to fasten into her black hair. Her beauty, and the rhythm of her movements and the folds of her garments, seemed to float around her like music. She silently held out her hand to her northern sister.
Haralda had cast a sharp and not very friendly look upon the Roman girl; but admiration soon dispelled the angry surprise which had overspread her countenance, and she said:
"By Freia's necklace! thou art the most lovely woman I have ever beheld. I doubt whether a Wish-girl of Walhalla could compare with thee. Dost thou know, Harald, whom this Princess resembles? Ten nights ago we laid waste an island in the blue Grecian sea, and plundered a columned temple. There stood a tall, icy-cold woman, made of white stone; upon her breast was the figure of a head surrounded with snakes; at her feet the night-bird; she was clad in a garment of many folds. Swen unfortunately broke her to pieces because of the jewels in her eyes. The King's bride resembles that marble goddess."
"I must translate what she has said to thee," said Totila, turning to Valeria with a smile. "Thy poetical adorer, Pisa, could not have flattered thee more delicately than this Bellona of the north. They landed, so we were told, at Melos, and there broke the beautiful statue of Athene, sculptured by Phidias. You have made great desolation, I hear," he continued, turning to Harald, "in all the islands between Cos, Chios, and Melos. What, then, has led you so peacefully to us?"
"That I will tell thee, brother; but only after more drink." And he held out his cup to Adalgoth. "No, do not spoil the splendid juice with water! Water should be salt, so that no one could drink it unless he were a shark or a walrus. Water is good to carry us upon its back, but not to be carried in our stomachs. And this vine-beer of yours is a wonderful drink. I am soon tired of our mead; it is like a tame sweet dish. But this vine-mead! the more a man drinks, the thirstier he becomes. And if one drank too much--which is scarcely possible--it is not like the intoxication of ale or mead, which makes a man ready to pray to Asathor to hammer an iron ring round his temples. No; the intoxication of the vine is like the sweet madness of the Skalds--a man feels like a god! So much for the vine! But now I will tell thee how it was that we came here."
"Well," began King Harald, "our home is in Thuleland, as the Skalds call it; in Goetaland, as we name it. For Thuleland is the land where one doesnotdwell; where only, still nearer to the ice-mountains,otherpeople live. Our realm reaches, towards the rising of the sun, to the sea and our island, Gothland; towards the setting of the sun, as far as Hallin and the Skioldungahaff; towards midday, to Smaland, Skone, and the kingdom of the Sea-Danes; towards midnight, to Svealand. The King is my father, Frode, whom Odin loves. He is much wiser than I; but he has now crowned me as Vi-king, upon the sacred-stone at King-Sala, because he is already a hundred years old, and quite blind. Now the minstrels in our halls still sing the legends which tell that you Goths were originally our brothers, and that only by reason of the wandering of the peoples have you gradually drawn nearer to the south; for you followed the flight of the crane from the Caucasus, but we the running of the wolf."
"If that be so," said King Totila, smiling, "I prefer the crane for a guide."
"It may well seem so to thee, sitting here in this gay drinking-hall," answered King Harald gravely. "But however that maybe--and I do not quite believe it, for then we ought to understand each other's words better--we truly and highly honour this our blood-relationship. For a long time nothing but good news came from your warm realm to our cold Gothaland--news of the highest fame. And once my father and your King Thidrekr,1who is praised by the harp-songs of our Skalds, exchanged envoys and gifts, through the agency of the Esthes, who live on the Austrway. These men led our envoys to the Wends, on the Wyzla; these to the Longobardians, on the Tisia; these to the Herulians, on the Dravus; these through Savia to Salona and Ravenna."
"Thou art a man learned in roads and countries," observed Totila.
"That the Viking must be; for else he will never go forwards, and likewise never get back. Well, for some time we only heard of your glory and good fortune. But once and again there came bad news, brought by merchants who bought our furs and eiderdown and amber, and took it to the Frisians, and Saxons, and franks, giving us in exchange artfully-formed vessels, and silver and gold. The news became sadder and more sad; we heard that King Thidrekr had died, and that afterwards great evils had broken out in your realm. We heard of defeat, treachery, and of the murder of Kings; of Goths warring against Goths; and of the might of the false Prince of Grêkaland. And it was said that you had broken your heads by thousands against the high walls of your own Roman citadel, which was held not by you, but by a man like Asathor, and another man still worse than the fire-fiend Loki. And we asked if none of the many Kings and Princes who had begged favours of Thidrekr of Raven could have helped you. But at that the Frank merchant, who offered us fine tissues from the Wahala, laughed and said, 'Broken fortunes, broken faith! They have all forsaken the luckless Gothic heroes, Visigoths and Burgundians, Herulians and Thuringians, and most of all we Franks, for we are wiser than all.' But, on hearing this. King Frode threw down his staff angrily, and cried, 'Where is my strong son Harald?" 'Here, father,' I answered, and took his hand. 'Hast thou heard,' my father continued, 'the news of the faithlessness of the Southland Kings? Such things shall not be said or sung of the men of Goetaland! If all others turn away from the Goths of Gardarike and Raven, we will keep faith and help them in their need. Up, my brave Harald, and thou, my bold Haralda! equip a hundred dragon-ships, and fill them with men and weapons. Put your hands deeply into my royal treasure at Kinsala, and do not spare the heaped-up golden rings. And set forth with Odin's wind in your sails. Go first from Konghalla, past the island Danes and the Jutlanders, towards the setting of the sun; thence along the coasts of the Frisians and the Franks, through the narrow path of the sea; then sail farther round the realm of the Sueves to the mountain land that is called Asturia; and round the land of the Visigoths bend towards the south. Then wind through the narrow strait of the wide ocean, where Asathor and Odin have set two pillars.
"You will then have entered the sea of Midilgard, where lie innumerable islands covered with evergreen bushes, out of which shine marble halls, upheld by high, round stone-beams. Lay waste these islands, for they belong to the false Prince of Grêkaland. And then sail to the Roman citadel or to Raven, and help the people of King Thidrekr against their enemies. And fight for them by land and water, and stand by them until all their enemies are overcome. And then speak to them and say: Thus advises King Frode, who will soon have seen a hundred winters, and who has seen the rise and fall of many peoples, and who, as a young Viking, has himself visited the Southland. This is his advice: 'Leave the Southland, however beautiful it may be. You cannot endure therein. As little as the iceberg can endure when it drifts into the southern sea. The sun, air, and waves consume it continually, and be it ever so mighty, it must melt away and leave not a trace behind. It is better to live in the poor Northland than to die in the rich Southland. Go on board our dragon-ships, and equip your own, and fill them with all your people; men, women, and children; and with your oxen and horses, and weapons and treasures; and leave the hot ground that will surely swallow you up, and come away to us. We will press closely together and make room, or take as much land from the Wends and Esthes as you need. And you shall be preserved fresh and green. Down there the southern sun withers and scorches you.' This is the advice of King Frode, whom men have called the Wise for fifty years. Now as we passed into the sea of Midilgard, we had already heard from seafarers that your troubles had been put an end to by a new King, whom they described as looking like the god Baldur; that you had re-won the Roman citadel and all the land of Gardarike, and had even victoriously carried destruction into part of Grêkaland itself. And now we see with our own eyes that you do not need the aid of our weapons. You live in plenty and pleasure, and everything is full of red gold and white stone. But still I must repeat my father's words and advice; listen to him; he is wise! Until now, every one who has despised King Frode's advice, has bitterly regretted it."
But Totila shook his head, smiled, and said:
"We owe you and King Frode warm thanks for rare and noble faithfulness. Such brotherly love from the Northern heroes shall never be forgotten in the songs of the Goths. But, O King Harald, follow me and look about you."
And Totila rose and took his guest by the hand, and led him to the entrance of the pavilion, casting back the hanging curtains.
There lay river and land and city in the glowing light of the setting sun.
"Look at this land, wonderful in the beauty of its sky and soil and art. Look at this Tiber-stream, covered by a happy, jubilant, and handsome people. Look at these masses of laurel and myrtle. Cast thine eyes upon the columned palaces, which shine across from Rome in the evening rays; on the tall marble figures upon these terrace-steps--and say thou, if all this were thine, wouldst thou ever leave it? Wouldst thou exchange all this magnificence for the firs and pines of the cold land of the north, where spring-time never blooms, for the smoke-blackened wooden huts on the misty heaths?"
"Aye, that I would, by Thorns hammer! This land is good to lay waste, to luxuriate and win battles in; but that done, then up and away with the booty! But you, Goths, are thrown here like drops of water upon hot iron. And if ever we sons of Odin shall rule this land, it will be only such of us as have a strong support in other sons of Odin. But you--you have already become very different to us. Your grandfathers, your fathers, and yourselves have wooed Roman women; in a few generations, if this continue, you will be Romanised. Already you have become smaller, and darker in skin, eyes, and hair. At least many of you. I long to be away from this soft and sultry air, and to breathe the north wind that rushes over our woods and waves. Yes, and I long for the smoke-blackened halls of wood, where Gothic runes are burnt into the roof-beams, and the harps of the Skalds hang on the wooden pillars, and the sacred hearth-fire glows hospitably for ever! I long for our Northland, for it is our home!"
"Then permit us to loveourhome: this land Italia!"
"It will never be your home; but perhaps your grave. You are strangers and will remain so. Or you will become Romanised. But there is no abiding in the land possible for you as sons of Odin."
"Let us at least try, my brother Harald," cried Totila, laughing. "Yes, we have changed in the two centuries during which our people have lived among the laurels. But are we the worse for it? Is it necessary to wear a bearskin in order to be a hero? Is it necessary to rob gold and marble statues in order to enjoy them? Can one be only either a barbarian or a Roman? Can we not keep the virtues of the Germans and lay aside their faults? Adopt the virtues of the Romans without their vices?"
But Harald shook his massive head.
"I should rejoice at your success, but I do not believe in it. The plant takes the nature of the soil and climate upon and under which it lives. And, for my part, I should not at all like it, even if I and mine could succeed. Our faults are dearer to me than the virtues of the Italians--if they have any."
Totila remembered the words with which he himself had answered Julius.
"From the north comes all strength--the world belongs to the Northmen," concluded Harald.
"Tell it to them in the words of thy favourite song," said his sister.
And she handed him her harp; and Harald played and sang an alliterative measure, orstabreim, which Adalgoth, translating it into rhymed verse, thus repeated to Valeria:
"Thor stood at the midnight end of the world,And the battle-axe flew from his hand.'As far as the battle-axe flies when hurled,Is mine the sea and the land!'And the hammer flew from his powerful handLike chaff by a hurricane blown:And it fell in the farthest southern-land,So that all became his own.Since then 'tis German right and graceWith the hammer the lands to merit;We come of the Hammer-God's noble race,And his world-wide realm will inherit!"
"Thor stood at the midnight end of the world,
And the battle-axe flew from his hand.
'As far as the battle-axe flies when hurled,
Is mine the sea and the land!'
And the hammer flew from his powerful hand
Like chaff by a hurricane blown:
And it fell in the farthest southern-land,
So that all became his own.
Since then 'tis German right and grace
With the hammer the lands to merit;
We come of the Hammer-God's noble race,
And his world-wide realm will inherit!"
A burst of applause from his Gothic hearers rewarded the royal minstrel, who looked as if he could well realise the proud boast of the song.
Harald once more emptied his deep golden cup. Then he rose and said:
"Now, my little sister Haralda, and you, my sailor brothers, we must break up. We must be on board theMidgardschlangebefore the moon shines upon her deck. What says the Wikinga-Balk?--
"'Ill sleeps the shipWhen her pilot lies on shore.'
"Long friendship--short parting; that is northern custom."
Totila laid his hand upon his guest's arm.
"Art thou in such haste? Fearest thou to become Romanised with us? Do but remain; it does not come so quickly. And with thee would scarcely happen."
"There thou art right, Rome-King," laughed the giant; "and, by Thor's hammer, I am proud of it! But we must go. We had three things to do here. To help you in battle. You do not need us. Or do you? Shall we wait until new wars break out?"
"No," said Totila, with a smile; "we have peace and not new strife in view. And if it should really once more come to a war--shall I prove thee right, brother Harald, in thinking us Goths too weak to uphold our rule alone? Have we not beaten our enemies without your help? Could we not beat them again, we Goths alone?"
"I thought as much," said the Viking. "Secondly, we came to fetch you back to the Northland. You will not come. And, thirdly, to lay waste the islands of the Emperor of Grêkaland. That is a merry sport, which we have not sufficiently practised. Come with us, help us, and revenge yourselves."
"No; the word of a king is sacred. We have agreed to an armistice which has still several months to run. And listen, friend Harald. Have a care and do not mistakeourislands for those of the Emperor. It would displease me if----"
"No, no," laughed Harald, "fear nothing. We have already noticed that thy harbours and coasts are excellently guarded. And here and there thou hast erected high gallows, and affixed to them tablets inscribed with Roman runes. Thy commodore at Panormus translated it to us:
"'Sea-robbers drowned,Land-robbers hanged;That is the lawIn Totila's land.'
"And my sea-brothers have taken a great dislike to thy sticks and tablets and runes. Farewell, then, Rome-King of the Goths! May thy good-fortune endure! Farewell, lovely Queen of Night! Farewell, all you heroes! we shall meet again in Walhalla, if not sooner."
And after taking a short leave, the northerners walked away.
Haralda threw her falcon into the air.
"Fly before us, Snotr--on deck!"
And the intelligent bird flew away, swift as an arrow, straight down the river.
The King and Valeria accompanied their guests halfway down the staircase; there they exchanged the last greetings. The Amazon cast one more rapid glance at Totila.
Harald remarked it, and as they descended the last steps he whispered:
"Little sister, it is on thy account that I left so quickly. Do not grieve about this handsome King. Thou knowest that I have inherited from our father the gift of recognising men who are fated to die. I tell thee, death by the spear hovers over this King's sunny head. He will not again see the changing of the moon."
At this the strong and tender-hearted woman forced back the tears which rose into her proud eyes.
Duke Guntharis, Earl Teja, and Duke Adalgoth accompanied the Goths to their boats on the Tiber, and waited until they had put off.
Teja looked after them gravely.
"Yes, King Frode is wise," he said. "But folly is often sweeter than truth; and grander. Go back to the terrace without me, Duke Guntharis. I see the King's despatch-boat coming up the river. I will wait and see what news it brings."
"I will wait with thee, my master," said Adalgoth, looking at Teja anxiously. "Thy countenance is so terribly grave. What is the matter?"
"I have a foreboding, my Adalgoth," answered Teja, putting his arm round the youth's neck. "See how rapidly the sun sets. I shudder! Let us go and meet the boat--it will land below there, where lie the ancient marble columns."
Totila and Valeria had returned to the pavilion.
"Wert thou moved, my beloved," asked the Roman girl with emotion, "by what that stranger said? It was--Guntharis and Teja explained it to me--of very grave import."
But Totila quickly raised his head.
"No, Valeria, it did not move me! I have taken great Theodoric's great work upon my shoulders. I will live and die for the dream of my youth, for my kingdom! Come--where is Adalgoth, my cup-bearer? Come; let us once more pledge a cup, Valeria--let us drink to the good fortune of the Gothic kingdom!"
And he lifted up his cup; but before he could put it to his lips, Adalgoth, with a loud call, hurried up the steps followed by Teja.
"King Totila," cried Adalgoth breathlessly, "prepare to hear terrible news; collect thyself----"
Totila set down his cup and asked, turning pale:
"What has happened?"
"Thy despatch-boat has brought news from Ancona. The Emperor has broken the armistice--he has----"
Teja had now drawn near. He was pale with fury.
"Up, King Totila!" he cried. "Exchange the wreath for the helmet! Off Senogallia, near Ancona, a Byzantine fleet suddenly attacked our squadron which lay under the protection of the armistice. Our ships no more exist. A powerful army of the enemy has landed. And the commander-in-chief is--Cethegus the Prefect!"