During the day following the nocturnal festival the fleet sailed out of the harbor of Carthage; it was only necessary to choose the troops intended for the campaign and to send them on board.
On the evening of this day Gibamund, Hilda, and Verus had gathered around Gelimer in the great hall of the palace, whose lofty arched windows afforded a wide view of the sea. Beside the marble table, heaped with papers, stood Gelimer, his head bowed as if by deep anxiety; his noble features expressed the gravest care.
"You sent for me, friend Verus, to listen with Gibamund to important tidings which had arrived within the few hours since Zazo left us. They must be matters of serious moment, from the expression of your face. Begin; I am prepared for everything. I have strength to bear the news."
"You will need it," replied the priest, in a hollow tone.
"But shall Hilda also?"
"Oh, let me stay, my King," pleaded the young wife, pressing closer to her husband. "I am a woman; but I can keep silence. And I wish to know and share your dangers."
Gelimer held out his hand to her. "Then brave sister-in-law! And bear with us whatever may be allotted by the stern Judge in heaven."
"Yes," Verus began, "it seems as if the wrath of Heaven indeed rested on you, King Gelimer." Gelimer shuddered.
"Chancellor," cried Gibamund, indignantly, "cease such words, such unhallowed thoughts. You are always thrusting the dagger of such sayings into the soul of the best of men. It seems as if you tortured him intentionally, fostered this delusion."
"Silence, Gibamund!" said the King, with a deep groan. "It is no delusion. It is the most terrible truth which religion, conscience, the history of the world teach; sin will be punished. And when Verus became my Chancellor, he remained my confessor. Who but he has the right and the duty to bruise my conscience and, by warning me of the wrath of God, break the defiant pride of my spirit?"
"But you need strength. King of the Vandals," cried Hilda, her eyes sparkling wrathfully, "not contrition."
Gelimer waved his hand, and Verus began:
"It is almost crushing, blow upon blow. As soon as the fleet had left the roadstead (the last sail had barely vanished from our sight), the messages of evil came. First, from the Visigoths. Simultaneously with the news from Sardinia a long, long letter from King Theudis arrived. It contained merely the repetition in many words it came from Hispalis--that he must consider everything maturely, must test what we could do in war."
"Test from Hispalis!" muttered Gibamund.
But Verus went on: "A stranger delivered this letter at the palace soon after our fleet went out to sea. It ran as follows:--
"'To King Gelimer King Theudis.
"'I am writing this in the harbor of Carthage--'"
"What? Impossible!" cried the three listeners.
"'--which I am just leaving. I wished to see the condition of affairs with my own eyes. For three days I remained among you unrecognized. Only my brave General, Theudigisel, accompanied me in the fishing boat which bore me across the narrow arm of the sea from Calpe, and will be carrying me home again when you read this, Gelimer. You are a true king, a true hero. I saw you slay the tiger to-night; but you cannot kill the serpent of degeneration which has coiled around your people. Your guards sleep at their posts; your nobles go naked, or in women's garb. I saw them flame up at last, but it is a fire of straw. Even if they really desired to improve, they could not change in a few weeks what the slothfulness of two generations has accomplished. The punishment, the recompense, for our sins does not fail.'" The King sighed heavily. "'Woe betide him who sought to unite his destiny to your sinking race! I offer you not alliance, but refuge. If after the battle is lost, you can escape to Spain,--and I will gladly aid you to do so,--no Justinian, no Belisarius shall reach you with us. Farewell!'"
"The subterfuge of cowardice," said Gibamund, resentfully.
"This man is no coward," replied Gelimer, sadly. "He is wise. Well, then, we will fight alone."
"And invite this wise King Theudis to be our guest at our banquet to celebrate the victory!" exclaimed Hilda.
"Do not challenge Heaven by idle boasting," warned Gelimer. "But be it so. The aid of the Visigoths in the war is of less value to us than to have the Ostrogoths at least remain neutral; to have Sicily--"
"Sicily," interrupted Verus, "if war should be declared, will be the bridge over which the enemy will march into Africa."
The King's eyes opened wider in astonishment; Gibamund started up, but Hilda, turning pale, exclaimed,--
"What? My own people? The daughter of the Amalungi?"
"This letter from the Regent has just arrived; Cassiodorus composed it. I should know by the scholarly style if he had not affixed his signature. She writes that, too weak to avenge, by her own power, the blood of her father's sister and many thousand Goths, she will joyfully see the vengeance of Heaven executed by her imperial friend in Constantinople."
"The vengeance of Heaven,--retribution," Gelimer repeated in a hollow tone. "All, all, unite in that!"
"What?" cried Gibamund, in an outburst of rage. "Has the learned Cassiodorus grown childish? Justinian, the wily intriguer, an avenging angel of God! And especially that she-devil, whose name I will not utter in my pure wife's presence! That pair the avengers of God!"
"That proves nothing," Gelimer murmured, talking to himself as if lost in reverie. "The Fathers of the Church teach that God often uses evil, sinful men for His deeds of vengeance."
"A wise utterance," said the priest, nodding his head gravely.
"I cannot believe it," cried Gibamund. "Where is the sentence?" Snatching the letter from Verus's hand, he rapidly glanced through it. "Sicily shall stand open to the Byzantines,--Justinian her only real friend, her protector and gracious defender."
"Ah," cried Hilda, sorrowfully, "does the daughter of the great Theodoric write that?"
"But," Gibamund went on in astonishment, "the sentence about the vengeance of Heaven--it is not here at all--not one word of it."
"Not in the mere wording, but the meaning is there," said the priest, taking the letter again and concealing it in the folds of his robe.
The King had not noticed the incident. He was pacing up and down the spacious hall with slow, hesitating steps, talking to himself. Now he again approached the table, saying wearily: "Go on. I suppose this is not all? But the end is coming," he added, unheard by the others.
"Your messenger. King Gelimer, sent to Tripolis to bring Pudentius here to be tried before your tribunal, has returned."
"When did he arrive?"
"Within an hour."
"Without Pudentius?"
"He refuses to obey."
"What? I gave the messenger a hundred horsemen to bring the traitor by force if necessary."
"They were received with a discharge of arrows from the walls. Pudentius had locked the gates, armed the citizens; the city has forsworn its allegiance to you. The whole province of Tripolitana has also risen, probably relying upon aid from Constantinople. Pudentius called from the battlements to your messenger, 'Now Nemesis is overtaking the bloody Vandals.'"
The King made a gesture as if to ward off invisible powers assailing him.
"Nemesis?" cried Gibamund. "Yes, she will overtake--the traitor. And while such peril threatens us close at hand in Africa itself, we send our best weapon,--the fleet,--the flower of our army, and the hero Zazo to distant Sardinia! How could you counsel that, Verus?"
"Am I omniscient?" replied the priest, shrugging his shoulders. "I told you that the messenger returned from Tripolis only an hour ago."
"Oh, brother, brother," urged Gibamund, "give me two thousand men,--no, only one thousand. I will fly to Tripolis on the wings of the wind and show the faithless wretch Nemesis as she looks in the Vandal dragon helmet."
"Not until Zazo returns," replied the King, who had drawn himself up to his full height. "We will not divide our strength still more. Zazo must come back at once! It was a grave error to send him. I wonder that I did not perceive it. But your counsel, Verus--Hush! That is not meant for a reproach. But a swift sailing ship must follow the fleet instantly to summon it back."
"Too late, my King," cried Gibamund, who had hurried to the arched window. "See how high the sea is running, and from the north! The wind has veered since we came in here, shifted from the southeast to the north. No ship can overtake the fleet which, borne by a strong south wind, has a start of many hours."
"O God," sighed Gelimer, "even Thy storms are against us. Only--" and again he drew himself up--"who knows whether we may not err in believing the peril so close at hand? Constantinople may send a small body of troops to aid Sardinia, but whether Justinian will really dare to attack us on our own soil here in Africa--"
"Oh, if he would but dare!" cried Gibamund.
Just at that moment a priest--he was a deacon from Verus's basilica--hastened in, and, bowing humbly, handed to his superior a sealed letter, saying: "This has just been brought by a swift-sailing ship from Constantinople." He bowed again and left the hall.
At the first sight of the cord fastening the papyrus Verus started so violently that neither of the three could fail to notice it as extraordinary in the man who, usually possessing almost superhuman self-control, never betrayed his emotion by a glance or even a vehement gesture.
"What fresh misfortune has happened?" cried even the brave Hilda.
"It is the sign agreed upon," said Verus, now gazing at the letter again with such icy calmness that the very transition from such agitation to such composure could not fail to perplex the witnesses afresh. But the little group were not overwhelmed with astonishment long, and waited impatiently while Verus, with a sharp dagger which he drew from the breast of his cloak, severed the brownish-red cord. The pieces, with the dainty little wax-seal fastening them, fell on the floor. Casting a single glance at the letter, the priest instantly handed it, without a word, to Gelimer. The King read,--
"You will receive a visit in Africa; the grain ship has sailed. The Persian merchant is in command."
"This was the agreement between me and my spy in Constantinople: the brownish-red cord means that war is certain; 'visit' is landing; 'grain ship' is the fleet; 'the Persian merchant' is Belisarius."
"Ah, that sounds like a war-song," cried Hilda.
"Welcome, Belisarius," cried Gibamund, grasping his sword.
The King threw the letter on the table. His expression was grave but calm: "Had this paper been in my hand only a day, only a few hours earlier, all would have been different. I thank you, Verus, that you obtained the news today, at least."
An almost imperceptible smile--did it mean pride? or was it flattered vanity?--flickered over the priest's pallid, bloodless lips. "I have old connections in Constantinople; since this danger threatened I have eagerly fostered them."
"Well, then," said the King, "let them come! The decision, the certainty, exerts a soothing, beneficial influence after the long period of suspense. Now there will be work, military work, which always does me good; it prevents pondering, thinking."
"Yes, let them come," cried Gibamund; "they break into our country like robbers, and we will resist them as if they were robbers. What right has the Emperor to interfere with the succession to the Vandal throne? Right is on our side; God and victory will also be with us."
"Yes, right is on our side," said the King. "That is my best, my sole support. God defends the right. He punishes wrong; so He will. He must, be with us."
This praise of justice, and this joyous confidence in their own cause seemed by no means to please the priest. With a gloomy frown on his brow he raised his sharp, penetrating voice, fixing his eyes threateningly on Gelimer,--
"Justice? Who is just in the eyes of God? The Lord finds sin where we see none. And He punishes not only present--"
At these words the King relapsed into his former mood; his eyes lost the bright sparkle of resolution. But Verus could not finish. A loud noise of voices in angry dispute rose in the corridor leading to the hall.
"I know those tones," said Gelimer, anxiously, turning toward the entrance.
"Yes; it is our boy," cried Gibamund. "He seems very angry."
Even as he spoke young Ammata rushed in, dragging with him by his short hair and the open neck of his robe a lad considerably larger, clad in a richly ornamented tunic, who struggled vainly as the other jerked him with both hands through the entrance, which was closed only by a curtain. The dark eyes, clear-cut features, and round, short head of Ammata's foe indicated his Roman lineage.
"What is it, Ammata?"
"What has happened, Publius Pudentius?"
"No, no! I won't let you go," shouted the Vandal prince. "You shall repeat it in the presence of the King! And the King shall give you the lie! Listen, brother! We were playing in the vestibule; we were wrestling together. I threw him. He rose angrily, and, grinding his teeth, said, 'That doesn't count. The devil, the demon of your race, helped you.'
"'Who?' I asked.
"'Why, that Genseric, the son of Orcus. You Asdings boast of your descent from pagan gods; but these, so the priest taught us, were demons. That is the reason of his luck, his victories.'
"I laughed, but he went on: 'He said so himself. Once, when Genseric left the harbor of Carthage on his corsair ship and the helmsman asked where he should turn the prow, the wicked tyrant answered: "Let us drift with the wind and waves toward whomsoever God's anger is directed against."' Is that true, brother?"
"Yes, it is true!" retorted the young Roman. "And it is also true that Genseric was as cruel as a demon to the defenceless and the prisoners. From rage because he was defeated in an attack upon Taenarus he landed at Zacynthus, dragged away as captives five hundred noble men and women, and, when out at sea, ordered them the whole five hundred--to be hacked into pieces from the feet upward, and flung into the waves."
"Brother, surely this is not true?" cried Ammata, pushing back his waving locks from his flushed face. "What? You are silent? You turn away? You cannot--"
"No, he cannot deny it," cried Pudentius, defiantly. "Do you see how pale he turns? Genseric was a demon. You have all sprung from hell. He and his successors have committed horrible deeds of cruelty upon us Romans, us Catholics! But wait! It will not remain unpunished. As surely as there is a God in Heaven! This curse of sin rests upon you. What do the Scriptures say? 'I will visit the sins of the fathers upon the children unto the third and fourth generation.'"
A hollow groan escaped the lips of the King. He tottered, sank upon the couch, and covered his face with the folds of his purple mantle. Ammata gazed at him in terror. Hilda hastily pushed him and the young Roman away.
"Go!" she whispered. "Make friends with each other; you must stop quarrelling. What have you boys to do with such things? Make friends, I say." Ammata held out his right hand pleasantly; the Roman clasped it slowly, angrily.
"Look," said Ammata, stooping, "how lucky!" He lifted from the floor the bit of brownish-red cord, to which the little wax seal hung.
"Yes, indeed," exclaimed Pudentius, in surprise; "the same seal that Verus would not give us for our collection of seals and impressions."
"It is very odd,--a scorpion surrounded by flames."
"Last week, when I saw the open letter lying on his table with the seal and cord, how I begged him for it!"
"He struck my fingers when I seized it."
"I wondered why it should be so valuable."
"And to-day we find it thrown away, on the floor."
"He might have given it to us, then, after the letter was opened."
"He do a kind act? He looks as though he came straight from the nether world."
"Come, let us go."
The two lads left the hall together, apparently friends again. But for how long a time? No one had heard their whispered conversation.
Gibamund bent over his brother.
"Gelimer," he cried sorrowfully, "rouse yourself! Calm yourself! How can the words of a child--"
"Oh, it is true, all too true! It is the torture of my life. It is the worm boring into my brain. Even the children perceive it, utter it! God, the terrible God of vengeance, will visit the sins of our fathers upon us all,--on our whole nation, especially on Genseric's race. We are cursed for the guilt of our ancestors. And on the Day of Judgment, even from the depths of the sea, accusers will rise against us. When the Son of Man returns in the clouds of Heaven, when the summons is heard: 'Earth, open thy heights! mighty ocean, give up thy dead!' those mutilated forms will bear witness against us."
"No, no, thrice no!" cried Gibamund. "Verus, do not stand there with folded arms, so cold, so silent. You see how your friend, your priestly charge, is suffering. You, the shepherd of his soul, help him! Take his delusion from him. Tell him God is a God of Mercy, and every man suffers for his own sins only."
But the priest answered gloomily: "I cannot tell the King that he is wrong. You, Prince, talk like a youth, like a layman, like a German, almost like a pagan. King Gelimer, a mature man, has acquired the ecclesiastical wisdom of the Fathers of the Church and the secular knowledge of the philosophers. And he is a devout Christian. God is a terrible avenger of sin. Gelimer is right, and you are wrong."
"Then I will praise the folly of my youth."
"And I my paganism!" said Hilda. "They make me happy."
"The King's (or your) Sacred Wisdom makes him miserable."
"It might paralyze his strength!"
"Had he not inherited such unusual vigor from his much-despised ancestors."
"And with it the curse of their sins," said Gelimer to himself.
"We might consider," said Verus, slowly, "whether it would not be wise to cast into prison, with the other captives, this Publius Pudentius, the son of Pudentius the rebel, whom he could not take with him in his hasty flight."
"The lad? Why?" asked Hilda, reproachfully.
"With shrewd caution, your former kings reared the sons of aristocratic Romans at their courts, in the palace," Verus went on quietly, "apparently to do honor to their fathers; really as hostages for their fidelity."
"Shall Gelimer the Good visit the father's guilt on the innocent son, like your terrible God?" cried Gibamund.
"That I would never do," said Gelimer.
"The traitor knew it," replied Verus. "He calculated on your mildness; that is why he dares to rebel while his son is in your hands."
"Let all these boys go in peace to their families."
"That will not do. They are old enough, and have seen enough of our preparations and our weak points to do us serious injury if they should talk of them to our foes. They must remain in the city, in the palace. I will leave you now; my work summons me."
"One thing more, my Verus. It grieves me that I could not extort from Zazo before his departure a consent which I have long striven to win from him."
"What do you mean?" asked Hilda.
"I can guess," said Gibamund.
"It concerns the prisoners in the dungeons of the citadel. When, against the entreaties of the whole nation and Zazo's urgency especially, Gelimer protected the lives of Hilderic and Euages, changing the sentence of death pronounced by the Council of the Nation to imprisonment, he was obliged to promise Zazo that at least he would never liberate the prisoners without his consent."
"I wished to release them now. But Zazo has my promise, and he could not be softened."
"He is right,--a rare instance," said Verus.
"What? You, the priest, counsel against pity and pardon?" asked Hilda, in astonishment.
"I am also chancellor of this kingdom. The former King would be far too dangerous if he were set at liberty. Romans, Catholics,--he is said secretly to have joined this church,--might gather round him, and 'the rightful King of the Vandals' would be a much-desired weapon against the 'Tyrant' Gelimer. The prisoners will be better off where they are. Their lives are safe--"
"They have repeatedly requested an audience; they wish to justify themselves. These petitions--"
"Were always granted. I have heard them myself."
"What resulted from them?"
"Nothing that I did not already know. Did you not feel the armor under Hilderic's robe, wrest the dagger from his hand yourself?"
"Alas, yes! Yet I so easily distrust myself. Ambition, desire for this crown (one of my heaviest sins), made me only too ready to believe in Hilderic's guilt. And now the captive King, protesting his innocence, appealing to a warning letter received by him on that day, which would explain and prove everything, requests another trial. Yet you have fulfilled the prisoner's wish and searched for it in the place he named?"
"Certainly," said Verus, quietly, his lifeless features growing even more rigid, more sternly controlled. "That letter is an invention. As Hilderic repeatedly asserted that he had concealed it in a secret drawer of 'Genseric's Golden Chest,'--you know the coffer, Gibamund?--I searched the whole chest with my own hands and alone. I even found the secret drawer and opened it; nothing of the kind was there. Nay, at the prisoner's earnest entreaties, I had the coffer carried to his dungeon and examined by himself in the presence of witnesses. He, too, found nothing."
"And no one could have previously removed the letter?" asked Gelimer.
"You and I alone have the keys to the chest which contains the most important documents. But I must leave you now," said the priest. "I have many letters to write to-night. Farewell!"
"I thank you, my Verus. May the angel of the Lord watch over me in Heaven as faithfully as you watch and care for me on earth."
The priest closed his eyes a moment, then smiling faintly, nodded, saying: "That is my prayer also."
He glided noiselessly across the threshold.
Hilda followed Verus's retreating figure with a long, long look; at last, with a slight shake of her beautiful head, she went up to Gelimer and said: "Do not be angry, my King, if I ask a question which nothing gives me the right to utter, except my anxiety for your welfare, and that of all our people."
"And my love for you, brave sister-in-law," replied Gelimer, gently stroking her flowing golden hair, and seating himself on the couch again. "For," he added, smiling, "though you are a wicked pagan and often cherish--as I well know--secret resentment, nay, animosity, against me, I love you, foolish, impetuous young heart."
She sank down at his feet, on a high, soft cushion covered with leopard skins, while Gibamund paced slowly up and down the spacious hall, often gazing out through the lofty arched window over the wide sea. No light was burning in the apartment; but the full moon, which meanwhile had risen above the dark flood and the harbor wall, poured in the full splendor of her rays, which, falling on the features of the three noble human beings, illumined them with a spectral light.
"I will not," Hilda began, "as Zazo and my Gibamund have repeatedly done, until you wrathfully forbade it, warn you against this priest, who--"
With neither impatience nor anger, Gelimer interrupted: "Who first discovered the wiles of Pudentius; who revealed to us the treachery of Hilderic; to whom alone I am indebted for my escape from assassination that night; who has saved the kingdom of the Vandals from the snare."
Gibamund paused in his walk.
"Yes, it is true. I had almost said,unfortunatelytrue. For I would rather have owed it to any other man."
"It is so strikingly true that even our Zazo, who at first accused him harshly to me, could scarcely find any objection to mutter, when I took the brilliant man among my councillors and intrusted to him (for he is an expert in letter-writing) the care of the correspondence. And how unweariedly he has toiled since, priest and chancellor at the same time! I marvel at the number of papers he lays before me every morning; I do not believe he sleeps three hours."
"Men who neither sleep nor fight, drink nor kiss, are unnatural to me," cried Gibamund, laughing.
"I do not warn," said Hilda, "but I ask"--she laid her hand lightly on the King's arm--"how does it happen, how is it possible, that you, the warlike Prince of the Vandals, loved this gloomy Roman, this renegade, better than all who stood nearest to you?"
"There you are mistaken, fair Hilda," smiled the King, stroking her hand.
"Yes," she answered, correcting herself; "doubtless you love Ammata better; he is the apple of your eye."
"My father, on his death-bed, confided this brother (he was then only a prattling boy) to my care. I cherished him in my inmost heart, and reared him as though he were my own child," said Gelimer, tenderly. "It is not love," he went on, "that binds me to Verus. What constrains me to revere in him my guardian spirit on earth, to look up to him with ardent gratitude, with blind, credulous trust, is the confidence, nay, the superhuman certainty: yes," here he shuddered slightly, "it is a revelation of God, a miracle."
"A miracle?" Hilda repeated.
"A revelation?" Gibamund asked incredulously, stopping before them.
"Both," replied the King. "Only, to understand it, you must know more, you must know all, you must learn how my mind, my soul, was tossed to and fro by conflicting powers; you must live through with me once more my wanderings, my perils, and my deliverance. Yes, and you shall, you who are my nearest and dearest, now and here; who knows when the impending war will grant us another hour of leisure?
"Even in my earliest childhood, my father told me, I was not like ordinary children; I dreamed, I asked questions beyond my years. Then, it is true, came the happy days of boyhood: arms, arms, and again arms, my only sport, my only labor, my only study. At that time I grew to the power and the pleasure in the use of weapons--" his eyes flashed in the moonlight.
"Which made you the hero of your people," cried Gibamund.
"But suddenly an end came. By chance the leader of the hundred who was commanded to execute the order fell sick, and I was next in the list: I, a lad of sixteen, was sent with my troop to witness the terrible tortures of Romans, Catholics, who would not abjure their faith, in the courtyard of this citadel. The shrieks of agony which pierced through the thick walls had repeatedly roused the Carthaginians to insurrection; it was absolutely necessary to guard the dungeons. I had heard that such things were done; I was told that they were needful; that the Catholics were all traitors to the kingdom, and the rack was used only to compel them to reveal the secrets of their disloyal plans. But I had never witnessed the scene. Now suddenly I beheld it. The boy of sixteen was himself the commander of the executioners. Horrible! horrible! About a hundred persons, among them women, old men, boys and girls scarcely as old as I. I commanded a halt. 'By order of the King!' replied the Arian priest. I wanted to rush to the aid of the tortured prisoners. Alas! Verus's whole family were among the victims. I wanted to tear his gray-haired mother from the stake, from the ascending flames, amid which, in spite of her iron chains, she writhed, shrieking in unutterable agony. My own soldiers held me! 'By order of the King!' they shouted. I struck about me, I foamed, I raged. In vain! I shut my eyes that I might see the terrible scene no longer! But ah--"
The King hesitated and passed his hand across his brow. Then he went on,--
"My name, in a shrill scream, reached my ear. I involuntarily opened my eyes again and saw, stretched toward me, the naked, fettered, arm of the gray-haired woman. 'Curses on you, Gelimer!' she shrieked. 'Curses on you upon earth and in hell! Curses on all you Asdings! Curses on the Vandal people and kingdom! God's vengeance for your own and your fathers' sins shall pursue you from childhood to old age. Curses, curses on you, murderer Gelimer!' And I saw her eyes, horribly disfigured by suffering and hate, piercing mine. Then I sank down in the convulsions which, later, often attacked me, and lay gasping under the burden of the thought: even though I myself am free from sin, the despairing woman cursed me as she died; she bore the curse to the throne of God. I must bear the burden of guilt of all our family." He trembled, beads of perspiration stood on his brow.
"For God's sake, brother, stop! Your illness might return."
But Gelimer continued: "When I came to my senses, I was no longer a youth; I was an old man; or crushed, half mad, as you will call it. I threw off my sword-belt, helmet, shield, and all my weapons, and--oh, never shall I forget it--that one terrible word alone pressed through my poor brain, deadening all else: 'Sin--the curse of sin rests upon me, my family, my people!'
"I sought comfort. I seized the Bible. I had been taught that God speaks to us through the oracles of the Sacred Book. With a sharp dagger in my hand I unrolled the passages of Holy Writ. I appealed to God. 'O Lord, wilt Thou really punish me for the sins of my ancestors?' I struck haphazard with my dagger at the open page; it pierced the verse: 'For I the Lord thy God am a jealous God, visiting the iniquity of the fathers upon the children unto the third and fourth generation.'
"I almost died of terror. Once more I controlled myself. From the street below rose the blast of the Vandal horns; glittering in brilliant armor, our horsemen were going out to battle with the Moors. That was my joy, my pride. Twice already I myself had mingled in the victorious conflict. My heart, my courage, my joy in life, revived. I said to myself: 'Even though all pleasure is forever dead to me, my people, the Vandal kingdom, the hero's duty to live, to fight, to die for his country, summon me. Is this, too, nothing? Is sin, too, an idle nothing?' Again, in another place, I questioned the word of God. I closed the roll, opened it again, and my dagger's point touched the words: All is vanity!
"Then I sank down in despair. So people and country and heroism, which our ancestors had fostered and praised as at once the highest duty and the greatest pleasure,--this, too, is vanity, is sin before the eyes of the Lord."
"It is a cruel chance," said Gibamund, wrathfully.
"And it is folly to believe it," cried Hilda. "O Gelimer, thou hero, grandson of Genseric, does not every pulsation of your heart give the lie to this gloomy delusion." She sprang up, throwing back her flowing hair and fixing a fiery glance upon him.
"Sometimes, doubtless, fair leader of the Valkyrie," replied Gelimer, smiling. "And especially since--since God saved me by a miracle. And fear not, granddaughter of Hildebrand, you will have no cause to be ashamed of your brother-in-law, the Vandal King, when the tuba of Belisarius summons us to battle." He raised his noble head, clenching his fist.
"Oh, joy to us, my husband," cried Hilda, "that is still the inmost care of his being--the hero!" And she eagerly pressed her husband's hand.
"Who knows the inmost care of his own being?" Gelimer went on. "At that time--and for years after--all joy in the pomp and glitter of arms was over for me. I was so ill! At that second oracle the convulsions returned; and later they came very frequently, so that my father was compelled to yield to my earnest desire, for I was not yet fit for military service. I was permitted to enter a monastery of the monks of our religion as a pupil, and to remain there in the solitude of the desert. I spent many years within those walls, and during that time I burned all the war songs which I had written in our language to sing to the accompaniment of the harp."
"Oh, what a shame!" exclaimed Hilda.
"But a few were preserved by the lips of our soldiers," said Gibamund, consolingly; "for instance,--
"'Grandsons most nobleOf ancestors noblest,Ancient blood of the Asdings,Gold-panoplied raceOf mighty Genseric,To ye hath descendedThe Sea-Kings' power.'"
"'Grandsons most noble
Of ancestors noblest,
Ancient blood of the Asdings,
Gold-panoplied race
Of mighty Genseric,
To ye hath descended
The Sea-Kings' power.'"
"And the fatal harvest of his sins!" said Gelimer, bowing his head gloomily. He was silent for a time, then he began again,--
"Instead of the Vandal verse, I now composed Latin penitential hymns. My brothers thought that the tortures of the condemned groaned, the flames of hell darted through these trochees. Doubtless there were flames--those which I had seen consume living human beings. There was no mortification, no asceticism, which I did not practise to excess. I raged against my flesh; I hated myself, my sinful soul, my body, which dragged with it the curse of mortal sin. I fasted, I scourged myself, I wore the nail-studded belt till it pierced deep wounds. I secretly invented fresh tortures, when the abbot forbade the undue infliction of the old ones. At the same time I devoured all the books in the monastery and the libraries of Carthage. I persuaded my father to let me go to Alexandria, to Athens, to Constantinople, to hear the teachers there. I had become more learned, not wiser, when I returned from those schools to the monastery in the desert. At last my father summoned me from this monastery to his deathbed; he committed to me, as a sacred legacy, the care of my youngest brother, the child Ammata. I could not selfishly hasten from my father's grave to the desert, as I desired; the care of the child was a human, healthy duty which restored me to the world. I lived for the darling boy."
"No father could watch over him more tenderly," cried Gibamund.
"At that time I was urged to marry. The King, the whole nation wished it. The lady belonged to the royal race of the Visigoths, and came to visit Carthage. A beautiful, noble, brilliant Princess, she charmed my heart and ray eyes. I ruled both, and said, No."
"To live solely for Ammata?" asked Hilda.
"Not that alone. The thought entered my mind," his brow clouded again, "the curse which the old woman had called down upon my head should not, according to those terrible words of Scripture, be transmitted by me from generation to generation. I should tremble to see in my children's faces the features of their accursed father. So I remained unwedded."
"What a gloomy idea!" Gibamund whispered in the ear of his beautiful wife, as, drawing her tenderly toward him, he kissed her cheek.
"I suppose it was at that time," said Hilda, "that you composed that denunciation which condemns all love as sin?"
"Maledictus amor sextus,Maledicta oscula,Sint amplexus maledictiInferi ligamina."
"Maledictus amor sextus,
Maledicta oscula,
Sint amplexus maledicti
Inferi ligamina."
"It is all untrue," she added smiling, warmly returning her husband's embrace.
But Gelimer went on: "The result will teach us the truth--on the Day of Judgment. The care of the boy cured me. I again turned to the practice of arms; it would soon be necessary to teach my pupil their use. But a still greater aid was the duty--"
"You owed your people and your native land," interrupted Hilda.
"Yes," added Gibamund. "At that time the Moors had proved greatly superior to our effeminate troops, and especially our unwarlike King. We were defeated in every battle, and could no longer hold our own in the open field against the camel-riders. Our frontier was harried year after year. Nay, the robbers of the desert grew bold enough to penetrate deep into the heart of the proconsular province, till they made forays to the very gates of Carthage. Then I was summoned to become the shield of my people; I did so gladly. The old love of arms waked anew, and I said to myself: 'No vain, sinful greed for fame urges you on.'"
"What? Is heroism called a sin?" cried Hilda. "You were fighting only to defend your people."
"Ah, but he found much pleasure in it," replied Gibamund, smiling at his wife. "And he often pursued the Moors farther into the desert, and in following them killed many more with his own hand than the protection of Carthage would have required."
"May Heaven pardon all that I did beyond what was necessary," said Gelimer, in a troubled tone. "The thought, 'It is a sin,' often paralyzed my arm, even in the midst of battle. Often, too, I was overwhelmed by the old melancholy, the torturing fear of sin, the consciousness of guilt, the burden of the curse of the burning woman, the words piercing to the quick: 'All is sin, all is vanity!'
"Then came the day which brought to me the most terrible ordeal,--tortures little less than those suffered by the Catholics, the parents and relatives of Verus, and at the same time the decision, rescue, deliverance, through Verus. Yes, as Jesus Christ is my Redeemer in Heaven, this priest became my savior, my redeemer on earth."
"Do not blaspheme," warned Gibamund. "I, unfortunately, am not so devout a Christian as you; but the Saviour is only like unto, not equal with, God--"
"You have learned your Arian creed by heart, my dear one," cried Hilda, laughing. "But old Hildebrand said he was neither like nor equal to the gods of our ancestors."
"No, for they are demons," said Gelimer, wrathfully, making the sign of the cross.
"Yet I should not like to compare the gloomy Verus with Christ," replied Gibamund.
"I had felt toward him as you, as Zazo, as almost all did; he did not attract, he rather repelled me. That he--he alone of all his kindred, whose death for their faith he had witnessed, should have adopted the religion of their executioners! Was it from fear, or really from conviction? I distrusted him! It displeased me, too, that King Hilderic, the friend of the Byzantines, whose plots against my own succession to the throne I already suspected, so greatly favored him. How greatly I wronged Verus there he has now proved; he--he alone saved me and the Vandal kingdom. Thus he has done visibly what God's sign announced to me in the most terrible moment of my life. Now listen to what only our Zazo yet knows; I told him, as an answer to his warning. Hear, marvel, and recognize the signs and wonders of God."
It was three years ago. We had again marched against the Moors, this time to the southwest to meet the tribes which pitch their tents at the foot of the Auras Mountains. We passed through the Proconsularis, then Numidia, and from Tipasa forced the foe out of the level country up the steep mountains, where, amid inaccessible rocks, they sought refuge. We encamped on the plain, keeping them surrounded until hunger should force them to yield. Days, weeks elapsed. The time grew too long for me, and often, riding along the mountain chain, I sought some spot where lower cliffs might render it possible to scale or storm them.
"On one of these lonely rides (I needed no companion, for the enemy did not venture down into the valley) I had gone a long, long distance from our camp. Riding in a wide circuit around a projecting cliff, I lost the right direction in the vast, monotonous desert. I had never examined this side of the mountains, they seemed less difficult to scale; I felt no anxiety about returning, though my panting horse had covered many a mile,--the prints of his hoofs would guide me back. Already the rays of the ardent sun were falling more aslant, and brown mists were gathering around the glowing disk. I wished to see what lay beyond the nearest cliff, and, guiding my horse close to the rocky base, I turned the corner. Instantly a terrible sound deafened my ears,--a roar that made every nerve quiver. My horse reared in terror; I saw, only a few paces in front of me, a huge lion, a monster in size, crouching to spring. I hurled my spear with all my force; but at the same moment my horse, frantic with fear, reared still higher, overbalanced himself, and fell backward, burying me under his weight. A sharp pain in the thigh was the last thing I felt. Then my senses failed."
He paused, deeply agitated by the remembrance of the scene.
Hilda, her lips half parted, gazed at him in breathless suspense. "A lion?" she faltered. "They usually shun the desert."
"Yes," said Gibamund. "But they like to prowl among the mountains close to the border. I know that you were brought back to Carthage with a broken thigh," he added. "Many, many weeks passed before you were cured; but I was not aware--"
"When I recovered consciousness the sun was setting. It was burning hot--everything--the air, the dry sand on which the back of my head rested (for the helmet had slipped off in my fall), the heavy horse which lay motionless on my right leg and thigh. He had broken his neck. I tried to drag myself from beneath the heavy burden. Impossible; I could not move the broken limb. By bracing my right hand and arm on the sand, I attempted to raise the upper part of my body above the carcass of the horse. I succeeded. Directly in front of me was the lion! The animal lay motionless on his belly a few feet away; the handle of my spear protruded from his breast just beside his right fore-paw. My heart exulted at his death. But alas, no! Now that I had stirred, a low angry growl came from his half-open jaws. The mane bristled; he tried to rise, but could not, and remained lying where he had fallen. Then the claws clenched the sand deeper, evidently in the attempt to drag the body nearer, while the monster's glittering eyes were fixed full on mine. And I?--I could not draw back a single inch. Then--I will not deny it--fear, base, abject, trembling terror seized me. I let myself fall back upon the sand; I could not bear the horrible sight. Through my brain darted the thought: 'Woe betide you, what will be your fate?' And in my despair, my mortal terror, I shrieked as loud as I could, 'Help, help!' But I repented horribly; my voice must have roused the fury of the wounded animal; a roar answered me,--a roar so frightful in its rage and menace that my breath failed. When silence followed, my blood rushed, seething, through my veins. What threatened me? What end awaited me? No cries for aid would be heard by our troops; many, many miles of untrodden desert sands separated me from our farthest outposts. I had not seen during my whole ride a single trace of the foe among the mountains; how gladly would I have surrendered myself into their hands as a captive! But to languish here, under the scorching sun, on the burning sands--to perish slowly, for already thirst was torturing me with its terrible pangs! Ah, and I had heard that this agonizing death by thirst might drag along for days in the lonely wilderness.
"Then, looking up to the pitiless, leaden sky, I asked in a whisper,--I confess that I was afraid to wake the lion's voice again,--'God, God of Justice, why? What sin have I committed to be forced to suffer thus?'
"Then through my brain darted the terrible answer of Holy Writ: 'I will visit the iniquity of the fathers upon the children unto the third and fourth generation.' You are atoning, I groaned, for the sins of your ancestors; the curse of those who were burned at the stake is burning you here. You are condemned upon earth and in hell. Is this already hell that compasses me with such scorching heat, that sears my eyes, my throat, my chest, nay, my very soul? And hark! More terrible, louder still, it seemed to me, nearer, rose the roar of the monster. My senses failed again.
"I lay unconscious all night, probably passing from the fainting fit into a dream. In my half-doze I again saw everything that had happened. 'Ah,' I murmured, smiling, 'it is only a dream; it can be nothing but a dream. Such things do not belong to the world of reality. You are lying in your tent, with your sword by your side.' Rousing, I grasped at the hilt. Oh, horrible! I clutched the desert sand. It was no dream.
"Day had already dawned, and the sun again shone pitilessly with its scorching rays upon my unprotected face. Now the thought came, 'My sword! A weapon!' Bear the same torture, the same mortal anguish, for long hours? No! God forgive the heavy sin, but I would end my life; I was already condemned to hell! I grasped my sword-belt; an empty sheath hung from it. The blade had dropped out in the fall. I glanced around and saw the trusty weapon lying very near. Never had I loved it as I did at that moment; it was just at my left; I tried to seize it--in vain. Far as I could stretch my arm, my fingers, the faithful blade lay--perhaps barely six inches away--but beyond my reach. Then a low growl reminded me of the lion, and by a great effort (my strength was failing) I raised myself high enough to see the animal.
"Alas! Was it an illusion, indicative of approaching madness? For my thoughts were darting through my brain like clouds whirling before the blast of the coming storm. No! It was true. The monster had moved nearer, much nearer than the day before. It was no illusion. I could estimate clearly. Yesterday, no matter how far he stretched his paw, he could not reach the large black stone which had fallen from the cliff directly in front of my horse; now it lay almost by the wild beast's hind leg. During these hours, urged by increasing hunger, the lion had pushed himself forward almost the entire length of his body, and now lay only a foot and a half or two feet from me. If he should advance still farther--if he should reach me? Helpless, defenceless, I must allow myself to be devoured alive! Then terror darted through my heart. In mortal anguish I prayed aloud to God, struggled with Him in appeal: 'No, no, my God, Thou must not abandon me! Thou must save me, God of Mercy!' At this moment I suddenly remembered the belief of our whole people concerning the guardian spirits whom God has allotted to us in the form of helpful human beings. Do you remember? The attendant spirits."
"Yes," said Gibamund. "And by fervent prayer we can, in the hour of supreme peril, constrain God to show us the guardian spirit sent by Him to our rescue."
"My ancestor, too," said Hilda, "believed in them firmly. He said that our forefathers imagined the guardian spirits in the form of women who invisibly followed the chosen heroes everywhere to protect them. But since the Christian religion came--"
"These demon women have left us," said Gelimer, crossing himself, "and God has assigned to usmen, who are our keepers, counsellors, saviors, and guardian spirits here on earth. 'Send me, O God,' I cried, in an agony of entreaty, 'send me in this hour of utmost need the man whom Thou hast appointed to be my guardian spirit here on earth. Let him save me! And so long as I breathe, I will trust him as I would Thyself, will revere in him Thy wondrous power.'
"When I had ended this fervent prayer, my heart suddenly grew lighter. True, great weakness, almost faintness, stole over me; but there blended with it something infinitely sweet, inexpressedly happy and full of relief And now, in my feverish illusion, I suddenly beheld alluring visions of deliverance; the terrible thirst which tortured me painted a spring of delicious water gushing from the rocks close beside me. The rescuers, too, were already coming! Not Zazo, not Gibamund; I knew that they had marched against other Moors, far, far westward of my camp. No, it was some one else, whose features I could not see distinctly. He dashed forward on a neighing horse; he slew the lion; he dragged the constantly-increasing weight of my dead horse from my body. Then I heard only a rushing, ringing noise in my ears, which said: 'Your deliverer is here! Your guardian spirit.' Suddenly the ringing died away, and--it was no fevered dream--I heard in reality behind me, from the direction of our camp, the neighing of a horse. With my last strength I turned my head and saw a few paces behind me a man who had just sprung from his horse. He was standing in a hesitating, doubting attitude, as if reflecting, with his hand clenched on his sword-hilt, gazing at me and the lion."
"He hesitated?" cried Hilda. "He reflected; A Vandal warrior?"
"He was no Vandal."
"A Moor? A foe?"
"It was Verus, the priest."
"'My guardian spirit,' I cried, 'my preserver! God has sent you. Take my whole life!' Then my senses failed again.
"Verus told me afterwards that he cautiously approached the lion, and, seeing how deeply the weapon had penetrated, he hastily tore the spear from the wound; a tremendous rush of blood followed, and the monster died. Then he dragged me from under the dead horse, lifted me with difficulty on his own, bound me firmly on its back, and carried me slowly to the camp. My soldiers had sought me solely in the path along which they saw me ride out; Verus, who accompanied our army, was the only one who noticed that, after leaving the encampment that morning, I turned eastward. And when I was missed, he searched until he found me."
"Alone?"
"Entirely alone."
"How strange!" said Hilda; "how easily, alone, he might have failed in his purpose!"
"God enlightened and sent him."
"And did you--did he never tell others?"
Gelimer shook his noble head gravely. "The miracles of God are not to be the subject of idle talk. I earnestly besought his forgiveness that, formerly, I had almost distrusted him. He generously pardoned me. 'True, I felt it,' he said. 'It grieved me. Now atone by trusting me fully. For in truth you are right. God really did send me to you; Iamyour fate, I am the tool in God's hand that watches over your life and guides it to its predestined goal. I saw you--as if in a dream, though I was awake--lying helpless in the desert, and a secret voice urged me on, saying: "Seek him. Thou shalt become his fate!" And I could not rest until I had found you.'
"Now I have confided this to you that you may no longer wound me by your doubts. No, Hilda, do not shake your head. No objection; I will suffer none. How your distrust angers me! Has he not saved me a second time? Do you want a third sign from God, unbeliever? I would not wish to be incensed against you, so I will leave you. It is late. Believe, trust, and keep silence." With a bearing of lofty dignity, he left the room.
Hilda gazed after him thoughtfully. Then she shrugged her shoulders. "Mere chance," she said, "and superstition! How can delusion ensnare such a mind?"
"Such danger threatens just such minds. I rejoice that mine is less exalted."
"And that your soul is healthy!" cried Hilda, starting from her reverie with a gesture of relief, and throwing both arms around her beloved husband.