A Struggle For Rome Volume Iii Part 5

"Witichis--King Witichis--" at last stammered Mataswintha; "it is I!

Dost thou hear me?"

But the prisoner did not move.

"I come to save thee--fly! Thou art free!"

But the prisoner dropped his head again.

"Oh, speak!--oh, only look at me!"

She now went quite into the dungeon. Gladly would she have touched his arm, and taken his hand, but she did not yet dare.

"Cethegus will kill thee!" she said; "torture thee. He surely will if thou dost not fly!"

And now her desperation gave her courage. She drew nearer.

"But thou wilt fly! Thou shalt not die! I must save thee! I beseech thee, fly, fly! Oh, thou dost not hear me, and time presses! Sometime thou shalt know everything! but now fly--to life and liberty! I have the keys of the doors! fly, fly!" And now she grasped his arm and tried to drag him from his seat.

But she heard the rattling of chains--on his arms on his feet. He was chained to the block of stone.

"Oh! what is this?" she cried, and fell upon her knees.

"Stone and iron," he said, in a toneless voice. "Leave me, I am doomed.

And even if these bonds did not hold me--I would not follow thee. Back to the world? The world is one great lie. Everything is a lie."

"Thou art right. It is better to die. Let me die with thee, but forgive me! For I, too, have lied to thee."

"It is very possible. It does not surprise me."

"But thou wilt forgive me before we die? I have hated thee--I have rejoiced in thy ruin--I have--oh, it is so hard to tell! I have not the strength to confess it! And yet I must have thy forgiveness. Oh, forgive me!--give me thy hand as a sign of thy pardon."

But Witichis had sunk back into his former stupor.

"Oh, I beseech thee--forgive me, whatever I may have done!"

"Go--why should I not forgive thee? thou art like the rest--not better and not worse."

"No, I am more wicked than all--and yet better. At least more miserable. It is true that I hated thee, but only because thou hast ever thrust me from thee. Thou wouldst not permit me to share thy life.

Forgive me!--O G.o.d! I only wish to die with thee!--give me thy hand as a sign of pardon!"

Kneeling and beseeching, she stretched out both her hands.

The King again lifted his head. The kindness of his nature awoke within him, and overpowered his own dull pain.

"Mataswintha," he said, lifting his chained hand, "go. I am sorry for thee. Let me die alone. Whatever thou mayst have done--go--I forgive thee."

"O Witichis!" breathed Mataswintha, and would have clasped his hand, but she felt herself suddenly and violently dragged away.

"Incendiary! never shall he forgive thee! Come, Witichis!--_my_ Witichis!--follow me; thou art free!"

The King sprang up, roused to life by this voice.

"Rauthgundis! My wife! Thou hast never lied! Thou art true! at last I have thee again!"

And, with a gasp of joy, he stretched out his arms. His wife flew to his bosom, and tear's of delight rushed from their eyes.

But Mataswintha, who had risen, tottered to the wall. She slowly stroked her loose red hair out of her eyes and looked at the pair, who were illuminated by the bright moonlight from the c.h.i.n.k in the wall.

"How he loves her! Yes, he will follow _her_! But he shall not! He shall remain and die with me!"

"Delay no longer!" said the voice of Dromon at the door.

"Come, come quickly, my life!" cried Rauthgundis.

She drew a little key from her bosom and felt at the chains, seeking the small opening of the lock.

"What? Shall I really breathe once more the air of freedom?" asked the prisoner, half sinking back into his stupor.

"Yes; the free and open air!" cried Rauthgundis, and threw the loosened chains to the ground. "Here, Witichis, here is a weapon! an axe! Take it!"

Eagerly the Goth took the axe and weighed it in his hand.

"Ha! how the weapon strengthens my arm and soul!"

"I knew it, my brave Witichis," said Rauthgundis, kneeling down and unlocking the chain which bound his left foot to the block of stone.

"Now step out, for thou art free!"

Witichis, raising the axe in his right hand, made a step toward the door.

"And _she_ is permitted to loose his chains!" whispered Mataswintha.

"Yes, free!" cried Witichis, drawing a deep breath. "Come, Rauthgundis, let us go!"

"He goes with _her_!" screamed Mataswintha, and cast herself before the pair. "Witichis--farewell--but tell me once more--that thou hast forgiven me!"

"Forgiven thee!" cried Rauthgundis. "Never--never! She has destroyed our kingdom--she has betrayed thee! It was no lightning--it was her hand which kindled the granaries!"

"Ha--then be thou accursed!" cried Witichis. "Away, away from this serpent!" and, thrusting Mataswintha violently away, he crossed the threshold, followed by Rauthgundis.

"Witichis," screamed Mataswintha, dragging herself up--"stay--stay!

Hear one word--Witichis!"

"Be silent," said Dromon, grasping her arm. "You will alarm the guard!"

But Mataswintha, now no more mistress of herself, ran up the steps into the pa.s.sage. "Stay, Witichis--stay!" she screamed. "Thou canst not leave me thus!" and fell fainting to the earth.

Dromon hurried past her, and followed the fugitives.

But the shrill cries of Mataswintha had already reached the ear of one who ever slept lightly. Cethegus, his sword in his hand, and only half dressed, came out of his chamber into the gallery which looked over the square court of the palace.