A Struggle For Rome - BestLightNovel.com
You’re reading novel A Struggle For Rome Volume I Part 19 online at BestLightNovel.com. Please use the follow button to get notification about the latest chapter next time when you visit BestLightNovel.com. Use F11 button to read novel in full-screen(PC only). Drop by anytime you want to read free – fast – latest novel. It’s great if you could leave a comment, share your opinion about the new chapters, new novel with others on the internet. We’ll do our best to bring you the finest, latest novel everyday. Enjoy
Longer and longer stretched the shadows of the towers across the court of the palace, into which she was gazing. All at once she was roused by the firm footsteps of a man; Cethegus stood before her. His countenance was cold and dark, but icily calm.
"Cethegus!" cried the distressed woman, hurrying towards him; and would have taken his hand, but his coldness repulsed her.
"All is lost!" she sighed, stopping short.
"Nothing is lost. Calmness is all that is wanting--and promptness," he added, looking round the room.
When he saw that he was alone with her, he put his hand into the folds of his toga.
"Your love-philtre has done no good, Rusticiana. Here is another; more potent. Take it," and he thrust into her hand a small phial made of dark-coloured lava-stone.
She looked into his face with anxious suspicion.
"Do you all at once believe in magic and charms? Who has mixed it?"
"I," he answered, "and _my_ potions work."
"You!" a cold shudder ran through her frame.
"Ask no questions, do not delay," he commanded. "It must be done this day! Do you hear? This very day!"
But Rusticiana still hesitated, and looked doubtfully at the bottle in her hand.
Then Cethegus went close to her and lightly touched her shoulder.
"You hesitate?" he said slowly. "Do you know what is at stake? Not only our whole plan! No, blind mother. Still more. Camilla _loves_, loves the King; with all the power of her young soul. Shall the daughter of Boethius become the paramour of the tyrant?"
With a loud cry Rusticiana started back. That which, during the last few days, had crossed her mind with a terrible suspicion, now became a certainty; she cast one glance at the man who had spoken the cruel word, and hurried away, angrily grasping the phial.
Cethegus looked quietly after her.
"Now, young Prince, we shall see! You were quick, I am quicker. It is strange," he added, "I have long thought that I was incapable of such violent emotion. Life has again a charm. I can again strive, hope, and fear. Even hate. Yes, I hate this boy, who dares to meddle in my affairs with his childish hand. He would defy me--hinder my progress--he boldly crosses my path--he! Well, let him bear the consequences!" And he slowly left the chamber, and turned towards the audience-room of the Queen, where he intentionally showed himself to the a.s.sembled crowd, and, by his calmness, gave some degree of confidence to the troubled hearts of the Roman courtiers.
At sunset he went with Ca.s.siodorus and a few other Romans--consulting about his defence for the next day--into the gardens, where he looked about in vain for Camilla.
She, as soon as she had heard the end of Ca.s.siodorus' report, had hurried to the court of the palace, where she hoped to find the King at the exercise of arms with the other young Goths. She only wished to see him, not yet to speak to him and beg pardon at his feet for the great wrong she had done him.
She had abhorred him, repulsed him, hated him as spotted with the blood of her father--him, who had suffered for her father's sake, who had saved her brothers' lives!
But she did not find the King in the court. The important events of the day kept him confined to his study. His comrades also did not fence to-day. Standing in thick groups, they loudly praised the courage of their young King. Camilla heard this praise with delight. Blus.h.i.+ng with pride, she wandered in happy dreams about the garden, seeking the traces of her lover in all her favourite haunts.
Yes, she loved him! Joyfully and proudly she confessed it to herself; he had a thousand times deserved it. What matter that he was a Goth, a barbarian! He was a n.o.ble, generous youth, the King of her soul!
She repeatedly told the slave who accompanied her to keep at a distance, so that she might not hear how she again and again murmured the beloved name.
At last she arrived at the Temple of Venus, and sank into sweet dreams of the future, which lay indistinct, but golden-hued, before her. She first of all resolved to declare to her mother and the Prefect that they must no more reckon upon her a.s.sistance in any plot against the King. Then she would ask pardon for her fault with moving words, and then--then?
She did not know what would happen then; but she blushed in the midst of her sweet reverie.
Red and perfumed almond-blossoms fell from the bending trees; in the thick oleander near her sang a nightingale; the clear stream glided purling past her to the blue sea, and the waves of this sea rolled softly to her feet, as if doing homage to her love.
CHAPTER XVII.
The sound of approaching footsteps upon the sandy path startled her from her reverie. The step was so rapid and firm, that she did not expect Athalaric. But he it was, changed in appearance and carriage; more manly, stronger, more decided.
"Welcome, welcome, Camilla!" he cried, in a loud and lively voice. "To see you here is the best reward for this troublous day."
He had never spoken to her so before.
"My King!" she whispered, blus.h.i.+ng. She cast a beaming look upon him from her dark eyes, then the long and silky lashes fell.
"My King!" She had never before called him so, never given him such a look.
"Your King!" he said, seating himself beside her. "I fear you will call me so no longer, when you learn what has happened to-day."
"I know all."
"You know! Well then, Camilla, be just. Do not scold, I am no tyrant----"
"The n.o.ble youth!" she thought. "He excuses himself for his most manly act."
"Heaven knows that I do not hate the Romans. Are they not your people?
I honour them and their ancient greatness; I respect their rights; but I must firmly protect my kingdom, Theodoric's creation, and woe to the hand that threatens it! Perhaps," he continued, more slowly and solemnly, "perhaps its doom is already written in the stars. 'Tis all the same. I, its King, must with it stand or fall."
"You say truly, Athalaric, and speak like a King!"
"Thanks, Camilla; how just and good you are today! To such goodness I may well confide what blessing, what healing has come to me. I was a sick and erring dreamer, without support, without joy, gladly sinking to the grave. Then there suddenly came over me a feeling of the danger which threatened this nation, an active anxiety for the welfare of my people, and out of this anxiety grew a warm and mighty love for my Goths; and this ardent and watchful love has strengthened and comforted my heart for .... a bitterly painful renunciation. What matters _my_ happiness, if only my people flouris.h.!.+ See, this thought has made me whole and strong, and truly, I could now venture upon the most daring deed!"
He sprang up and extended both his arms, exclaiming: "Oh, Camilla! this inaction destroys me! Oh that I were mounted and meeting a full-armed foe! Look," he added, more calmly, "the sun is setting. The mirror-like flood invites us. Come, Camilla, come with me in the boat."
Camilla hesitated. She looked around.
"The slave?" asked Athalaric. "Ah, let her alone. There she reposes under the palm by the spring. She sleeps. Come, come quickly, ere the sun sets. Look at the golden ripple on the water--it beckons us!"
"To the Isles of the Blessed?" asked the lovely girl, with a shy look and a slight blush.
"Yes, come to the Blessed Isles!" he answered, delighted, lifted her quickly into the boat, loosed the silver chain from the ram's head upon the quay, sprang in, took the ornamental oar, and pushed off.
Then he laid the oar into the notch at his left hand, and, standing in the stern of the boat, steered and rowed at the same time--a graceful and picturesque movement, and a right Germanic ferryman's custom.
Camilla sat upon a _diphros_, or Grecian folding-stool, in the bow of the boat, and looked into Athalaric's n.o.ble face. His dark hair was ruffled by the breeze, and it was pleasant to watch the lithe and graceful motions of his agile form.
Both were silent. Like an arrow the light bark shot through the smooth water. Flecked and rosy cloudlets pa.s.sed slowly across the sky, the faint breeze was laden with clouds of perfume from the blossoming almond-trees upon the sh.o.r.e, and all around was peace and harmony.
At last the King broke the silence, while giving the boat a strong impulse, so that it obediently shot forwards.
"Do you know of what I am thinking? How splendid it would be to steer a nation--thousands of well-loved lives--securely forward through waves and wind, to happiness and glory! But what were you thinking about, Camilla? You looked so kind, you must have had pleasant thoughts."