A Struggle For Rome Volume Ii Part 45

And, pointing with her finger, she began to read.

"Why this disguise?" asked Mataswintha. "It is suspicious. He must be arrested."

"No, no, mistress," whispered Aspa; "dost thou know what these letters mean? No other eye than mine can decipher them for thee."

"Well?" asked Mataswintha.

"They say," whispered Aspa, "Syphax owes a life to his master, Cethegus the Prefect.' Yes, yes, I know him; it is Syphax, the son of Hiempsal, a friend of my family. The G.o.ds have sent him to us."

"Yes, Aspa," said Mataswintha, "the G.o.ds have sent him: the G.o.ds of revenge! Goths, lay this wounded man upon a bier, and follow my slave to the palace. Henceforward he shall be employed in my service."

CHAPTER IV.

A few days later Mataswintha again repaired to the camp, this time unaccompanied by Aspa, for the latter never stirred, by day or night, from the bedside of her wounded countryman, who was rapidly recovering under her careful nursing.

King Witichis himself came to fetch the Queen with all his court, for a most important council of war was to be held in his tent. The arrival of the last reinforcements had been reported, and Guntharis and Hildebad were also expected to return with the reply of Belisarius to the proposal of peace.

"This will be a fateful day," said Witichis to his consort. "Pray to Heaven for peace."

"I pray for war," said Mataswintha, with a fixed stare.

"Does thy woman's heart so long for revenge?"

"For revenge alone, and it will be mine!"

They entered the tent, which was already crowded with Gothic leaders.

Mataswintha returned their reverent greetings with a haughty bend of her neck.

"Are the amba.s.sadors here?" the King asked old Hildebrand, as he seated himself. "Then bring them in."

At a sign from the old man, the curtains at the side of the tent were withdrawn, and Duke Guntharis and Hildebad entered, bowing low.

"What bring you, peace or war?" Witichis asked eagerly.

"War! war, King Witichis!" cried both men with one voice.

"What! Belisarius refuses the sacrifice I offered him? Hast thou communicated my proposal to him in a friendly and earnest manner?"

Duke Guntharis stepped forward and answered:

"I met the commander in the Capitol, as the guest of the Prefect, and I said to him: 'The Gothic King, Witichis, sends thee greeting. In thirty days he will march before these walls with a hundred and fifty thousand valiant Goths, and there will be a strife and struggle for this venerable city, such as her bloodstained soil has not witnessed for a thousand years. The King of the Goths loves peace even more than victory, and he swears to yield the island of Sicilia to the Emperor Justinian, and stand by him in every war with thirty thousand Goths, if you will at once evacuate Rome and Italy, which belong to us by right of conquest, as well as according to the treaty with Emperor Zeno, who conceded them to Theodoric when he had overthrown Odoacer.' Thus I spoke, according to thy command. But Belisarius laughed, and cried: 'Witichis is very kind to yield to me the island of Sicilia, which belongs to me already, and is no more his. I will give him instead the island of Thule! No. The treaty of Theodoric with Zeno was a forced one, and as to the right of conquest--well, that speaks now for us. No peace except upon these conditions: that the whole Gothic army lay down their arms, and the entire nation march over the Alps, sending their King and Queen as hostages to Byzantium.'"

A murmur of indignation ran through the tent.

"Without making any reply to such a proposition," continued Guntharis, "we turned our backs angrily and departed. 'We shall meet again in Ravenna!' Belisarius cried after us."

"Then I turned," added Hildebad, "and cried: 'We shall meet again before Rome!' Up, King Witichis! to arms! Thou hast done thine utmost for peace, and hast only reaped humiliation. Up, then! Long enough hast thou lingered and prepared; lead us now to battle!"

Just then a flourish of trumpets was heard in the camp, followed by the sound of the hoof-beats of approaching horses.

Presently the curtain of the tent was lifted, and Totila entered in his s.h.i.+ning armour, his white mantle floating round him.

"Hail, my King and my Queen!" he said, bowing, "My mission is fulfilled, I bring you the friendly greeting of the Frank King. He had an army ready for the service of Byzantium, and prepared to attack thee. I succeeded in changing his intentions. His army will not enter Italy against the Goths. Duke Markja of Mediolanum, who, until now, has defended the Cottian Alps against the Franks, is therefore free. He follows me in haste with all his thousands. On my way hither I gathered together whatever men I found capable of bearing arms, and also the garrisons of the fortresses. Further: until now we were short of cavalry. Be comforted, my King! I bring thee six thousand hors.e.m.e.n, splendidly mounted. They long to caper upon the plains of Rome. _One_ wish alone dwells in all our hearts: lead us to battle, to Rome!"

"Thanks, my friend, to thee and to thy hors.e.m.e.n! Speak, Hildebrand, how is the army now divided? Tell me, generals, how many men does each one of you command? Notaries, write the numbers down."

"I command three thousand foot-soldiers," cried Hildebad.

"And I forty thousand foot and horse with s.h.i.+eld and spear," said Duke Guntharis.

"I lead forty thousand foot: archers, slingers, and spear-bearers,"

said Earl Grippa of Ravenna.

"I seven thousand with knives and clubs," counted Hildebrand.

"Then come Totila's six thousand horse, and fourteen selected thousands led by Teja, with battle-axes--where is he? I miss him here--and I have raised the number of my troops, foot and horse, to fifty thousand,"

concluded the King.

"Altogether that makes a hundred and sixty thousand," said the protonotary, writing down the numbers, and handing the parchment to the King.

A ray of warlike joy and exultation spread over the face of Witichis.

"A hundred and sixty thousand Gothic warriors! Belisarius, shall they lay down their arms before thee without a struggle?--What repose do you need before the march?"

Just then Teja hurried into the tent. As he entered he caught the last question. His eyes flashed; he trembled with rage.

"Repose? not an hour longer; up! revenge, King Witichis! a monstrous crime has been committed, which cries to Heaven for vengeance. Lead us at once to battle!"

"What has happened?"

"One of Belisarius's generals, the Hun Ambazuch, besieged, as thou knowest, the fortress of Petra with his Huns and Armenians. There was no relief for the garrison far and near. Only young Earl Arahad--he surely sought death--attacked the superior force with his small troop; he fell in brave combat. The little company of armed Goths in the fortress resisted desperately, for all the helpless people of the Goths, the Aged, the sick, women and children, coming from the plains of Tuscany, Valeria, and Picenum, and amounting to some thousands, had taken refuge in the fortress from the enemy. At last famine compelled them to open the gates, with the stipulation that they should be allowed to leave unhurt. The Hun swore that he would not allow a drop of Gothic blood to be shed. He entered, and ordered the Goths to a.s.semble in the Great Basilica of St. Zeno. This they did, above five thousand people and a few hundred warriors. And when they were all a.s.sembled----"

Teja paused with a shudder.

"Well?" asked Mataswintha, turning pale.

"The Hun closed the doors, surrounded the church with his troops--and burnt all the five thousand, together with the church."

"And his promise!" cried Witichis.

"Yes, so cried the desperate people amidst the smoke and flames! 'My promise?' laughed the Hun, 'it will be fulfilled: not a drop of blood will be shed. The Goths must be burnt out of Italy, like field-mice and vermin.' And so the Byzantines looked on, while five thousand Goths, aged men, women, sick people, and children--King Witichis, dost thou hear?--_children_! were miserably suffocated and burnt to death! Such things happen, and thou--thou sendest offers of peace! Up, King Witichis!" cried the enraged man, drawing his sword. "If thou be a man, set forth at once to revenge thy people! The spirits of the murdered will march before us. Lead us to battle! Lead us to revenge!"

"Lead us to battle! lead us to revenge!" echoed the Goths with a shout.

Witichis rose with quiet majesty.