A Struggle For Rome Volume Ii Part 73

They were the first words that she had spoken for hours.

Flash after flash, and peal after peal.

Aspa closed the window.

"O Queen! the Christian maids say that the end of the world has come, and that the Son of G.o.d will come down upon fiery clouds to judge the living and the dead. Oh! what a flas.h.!.+ And yet there is not a drop of rain. I have never seen such a storm. The G.o.ds are very angry."

"Woe to those with whom they are angry! Oh, I envy the G.o.ds! They can love and hate as they like. They can annihilate those who do not adore them."

"O mistress! I was in the streets; I have just returned. All the people stream into the churches, praying and singing. I pray to Kairu and Astarte. Mistress, dost thou not pray?"

"I curse. That, too, is a kind of prayer."

"Oh, what a peal!" screamed the slave, and fell trembling on her knees.

The dark blue mantle which she wore slid from her shoulders.

The thunder and lightning had now become so violent, that Mataswintha sprang from her couch and ran to the window.

"Mercy, mercy!" prayed the slave. "Have pity upon us, ye great G.o.ds!"

"No, no mercy--a curse upon us miserable mortals! Ha! that was splendid! Dost thou hear how they scream with fear in the streets?

Another, and yet another! Ha! ye G.o.ds--if there be a G.o.d or G.o.ds--I envy ye but one thing: the power of your hate and your deadly lightning. Ye hurl it with all the rage and l.u.s.t of your hearts, and your enemies vanish. Then you laugh; the thunder is your laughter. Ha!

what was that!"

A flash and a peal of thunder which outdid all that had gone before.

Aspa started from her knees.

"What is that great building, Aspa? That dark ma.s.s opposite? The lightning must have struck it. Is it on fire?"

"No, thanks to the G.o.ds! The lightning only lit it up. It is the granaries of the King."

"Ha! has your lightning failed?" cried the Queen. "But mortals, too, can use the lightning of revenge." And she left the window. The room became suddenly dark.

"Queen--mistress--where art thou? Whither hast thou gone?" cried Aspa.

And she felt along the walls.

But the room was empty, and Aspa called her mistress in vain.

Below in the streets a procession wound its way to the Basilica of Saint Apollonaris.

Romans and Goths; children and old people; very many women. Boys with torches walked first; behind came priests with crucifix and banners.

Through the growling of the thunder and the roaring of the wind sounded the ancient and solemn chorus:

"Dulce mihi cruciari, Parva vis doloris est; Malo mori quam f[oe]dari; Major vis amoris est."

And the choir answered:

"Parce, judex, contristatis Parce pecatoribus, Qui descendis perflammatis Ultor jam in nubibus."

And the procession disappeared into the church.

The overseers of the corn-magazines had also joined the crowd of wors.h.i.+ppers.

Upon the steps of the Basilica, exactly opposite the door of the magazines, sat the woman in the brown mantle, calm and fearless amid the uproar of the elements; her hands not folded, but resting quietly on her lap.

The man in the steel cap stood near her.

A Gothic woman, who was just hurrying into the church, recognised her by the light of a flash of lightning.

"Thou here again, countrywoman? Without shelter? I have offered thee my house, often enough. Thou appearest strange here in Ravenna?"

"I am so; but still I have a lodging."

"Come into the church and pray with us."

"I pray here."

"But thou neither singest nor speakest."

"Yet still G.o.d hears me."

"Pray for the city. They fear that the end of the world is at hand."

"I am not afraid."

"Pray for our good King, who daily gives us bread."

"I do pray for him."

Just then two Gothic patrols came clattering round the corner, and met opposite the Basilica.

"Aye, thunder till the skies crack!" scolded the leader of one of the bands; "but do not hinder me in my duty. Halt! Wisand, is it thou?

Where is the King? In the church also?"

"No, Hildebad; upon the walls."

"That is right; that is his place. Forwards! Long live the King!"

Their steps died away.

A Roman tutor, with some of his pupils, pa.s.sed by.

"But, magister," said the youngest boy, "I thought you were going to the church? Why do you take us out in this storm?"

"I only spoke of church to get you out of the house. Church! I tell you, the fewer roofs and walls about one the better. I am going to take you out into the great meadow in the suburbs. I wish it would rain. If Vesuvius were near, as it is in my native place, I should think that Ravenna was about to become a second Herculaneum. I know such an atmosphere as we have to-day--it is dangerous."