A Struggle For Rome Volume Iii Part 38

"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.

"_Our_ songs 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 h.e.l.l 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 ma.s.ses of flowers was filled up by a more lovely form than their eyes had ever beheld.

The child, or girl, had fastened her s.h.i.+ning 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 s.h.a.ggy dog, whose neck was likewise surrounded with a wreath.

The girl looked without fear, but thoughtfully and examiningly, at the brilliant a.s.sembly. 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, blus.h.i.+ng, 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 hors.e.m.e.n. 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 Ma.s.surius 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 ornamented _his_ neck 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, blus.h.i.+ng. "His locks are golden-brown; his eyes are blue as these s.h.i.+ning 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."

CHAPTER XII.

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 G.o.d!--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 d.u.c.h.ess!"

And Totila, who had meanwhile cast a rapid glance over the two doc.u.ments, 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 a.s.sembled 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."