A Struggle For Rome Volume I Part 51

"But not an hour longer!" cried Teja, and went away in anger.

CHAPTER II.

The very same day Theodahad and Gothelindis were crowned with the ancient crown of the Goths.

A splendid banquet, at which all the Roman and Gothic dignitaries of the court and city were present, enlivened the old palace and the usually quiet gardens, with which we have become acquainted as the scene of Athalaric's and Camilla's loves.

The revel lasted until deep into the night.

The new King, no friend of the cup, or of barbaric revelry, had retired early.

Gothelindis, on the contrary, sunned herself in the glory of her new rank. Proudly she sat upon her high seat, the golden circlet on her dark hair. She seemed all ear for the loud hurrahs with which, again and again, her own and her husband's names were greeted. But most of all she enjoyed the thought that these shouts would penetrate into the royal vault, where Amalaswintha, her hated and conquered rival, sat mourning by the sarcophagus of her son.

Among the crowd of such guests as need only a full cup to make them merry, many a grave face was to be seen; many a Roman who would rather have seen the Emperor Justinian upon the throne at the head of the table; many a Goth who, in the present precarious condition of affairs, could not do homage to such a King as Theodahad without anxiety.

To these last belonged Witichis, whose thoughts seemed far absent from the splendid scene around him. The golden cup before him stood untouched, and he scarcely noticed the loud exclamations of Hildebad, who sat opposite him.

At last--the lamps were long since lit, and the stars stood in the sky--he rose and went into the greeny darkness of the garden. He slowly wandered through the taxus-walks, his eyes fixed upon the sparkling luminaries. His heart was with his wife, with his child, whom he had not seen for months.

He wandered on unconsciously, until at last he came to the little Temple of Venus by the quay, with which we are already acquainted.

He looked out over the gleaming sea. All at once something s.h.i.+ning at his feet attracted his attention. It was the glittering of the moonlight upon a small Gothic harp, and upon a suit of mail. A man lay before him upon the soft gra.s.s, and a pale face was uplifted towards him.

"Thou here, Teja? Thou wert not at the banquet?"

"No; I was with the dead."

"My thoughts, too, were absent; at home with wife and child," said Witichis.

"With wife and child," repeated Teja, sighing.

"Many asked after thee, Teja."

"After me? Should I sit by Cethegus, who has robbed me of my honour, or by Theodahad, who took inheritance?"

"Thine inheritance?"

"At least he possesses it. And over the place where once stood my cradle he now drives his ploughshare."

His head sank upon his breast, and both were silent.

"And thy harp," at last said Witichis, "will it never be heard again?

They praise thee as our nation's best minstrel!"

"Like Gelimer, the last King of the Vandals, who was also the best singer of his nation.--But they shall never lead _me_ in triumph to Byzantium!"

"Thou singest but seldom now?"

"Seldom or never. But it seems to me time is coming when I shall sing again."

"A time of joy?"

"A time of deep and final sorrow."

Again a long pause ensued.

"My Teja," resumed Witichis, "I have ever found thee, in all trouble of peace or war, as true as steel. And although thou art so much younger than I--and an elder man does not lightly bind himself to a youth--I may call thee my best and bosom-friend. I know that thy heart cleaves to me more than to thy youthful companions."

Teja took the speaker's hand and pressed it. "Yes, even when my ways perplex thee, thou withholdest not thy respect and sympathy. The others---- And yet, _one_ of them I love much!"

"Whom?"

"He whom all love."

"Totila?"

"Yes. I love him as the night loves the morning star. But he is so frank, that he cannot understand when others are, and must be, reserved."

"Must be! Why? Thou knowest that curiosity is not my failing. And if, at this earnest moment, I beg thee to lift the veil from thy grief, I ask it only because I would gladly help and comfort thee, and because a friend's eye often sees more clearly than one's own."

"Help? Help me? Canst thou awaken the dead? My pain is irrevocable as the past! Whoever has, like me, seen the unmerciful wheel of Fate roll, crus.h.i.+ng everything before it, blind and dumb to all tenderness and n.o.bleness; yea, even crus.h.i.+ng what is n.o.ble more easily and readily, because it _is_ tender; whoever has acknowledged that a dull necessity, which fools call the wise providence of G.o.d, rules the universe and the life of mankind, is past all help and comfort! If once he has caught the sound, he hears for ever, with the sharp ear of despair, the monotonous rumble of the cruel, insensible wheel in the centre of the universe, which, at every revolution, indifferently produces or destroys life. Whoever has felt this, and lived through it, renounces all and for ever. For evermore, nothing can make him afraid. But certainly--he has also for ever forgotten the sweetness of a smile."

"Thou makest me shudder! G.o.d forbid that I should ever entertain such a delusion! How hast thou acquired, so young, such terrible wisdom?"

"Friend, by thought alone the truth cannot be reached; only the experience of life can teach it. And in order to understand what and how a man thinks, it is necessary to know his life. Therefore, that I may not appear to be an erring dreamer, or an effeminate weakling, who delights in nursing his sorrow--and in honour of thy trust and friends.h.i.+p--thou shalt hear a small portion of the cause of my grief.

The larger part, by far the larger, I will keep to myself," he added, in evident pain, and pressing his hand to his heart. "The time for that will come too. But now thou shalt only hear how the Star of Misfortune, even at my birth, shone over my head. And amidst all the million stars above, this one alone remains faithful. Thou wert present--thou wilt remember--when the false Prefect taunted me before the whole a.s.sembly with being a b.a.s.t.a.r.d, and refused to fight with me. I was obliged to endure the insult. I am even worse than a b.a.s.t.a.r.d. My father, Tagila, was a famous hero, but no n.o.ble. Poor, and of low birth. He had loved, ever since his beard sprouted, the daughter of his father's brother, Gisa. She lived far away on the outermost eastern frontier of the realm; on the cold Ister, where continued battles raged with the Gepidae and the wild Sarmatian hordes, and where a man has little time to think of the Church, or of the changing laws promulgated by her Conclaves.

For a long time my father was not able to lead Gisa to his home; ha had nought but his helm and spear, and could not pay the tax, nor prepare a home for his wife. At last fortune smiled upon him. In the war against the Sarmatians, he conquered the king's stronghold on the Alutha, and the rich treasures which the Sarmatians had gained by years of plunder, and had there ama.s.sed, became his booty. In reward of his valour, Theodoric gave him the rank of earl, and called him to Italy. My father took with him Gisa, now become his wife, and all his treasure, and bought a large and beautiful estate in Tuscany, between Florentia and Luca. But his good fortune did not last long. Shortly after my birth, some miserable fellow, some cowardly rascal, accused my parents of incest before the Bishop of Florentia. They were Catholics, and not Arians--and brothers' children; their marriage was null in the eyes of the Church--and the Church ordered them to part. My father pressed his wife to his heart, and laughed at the order. But the secret accuser did not rest----"

"Who was he?"

"Oh, would that I knew it! I would reach him, even if he lived amid all the horrors of Vesuvius! The priests tormented my mother without cessation, and tried to alarm her conscience. In vain; she stood fast by her G.o.d and her husband, and defied the bishop and his messengers.

And whenever my father met one of the priests upon his estate, he gave him such a welcome that he took care never to come again. But who can strive with those who speak in G.o.d's name! A last term was appointed; if, by that time, the disobedient couple had not separated, they were to be excommunicated, and their property forfeited to the Church. My father now hurried in despair to the King, to beg for the abolition of the terrible sentence. But the verdict of the Conclave was too clear, and Theodoric did not dare to offend the rights of the Orthodox Church.

When my father returned from Ravenna, he stared in horror at the place where once his house had stood: the time had elapsed, and the threat had been fulfilled. His home was destroyed, his wife and child had disappeared. He madly sought for us all over Italy, and at last, disguised as a peasant, he discovered Gisa in a convent at Ticinum.

They had torn her boy from her arms, and taken him to Rome. My father arranged everything for her flight from the convent; at midnight they escaped over the wall of the cloister garden. But the next morning the sisters missed their prisoner at the _hora_--her cell was empty. The convent servants followed the track of the horses--they were overtaken.

Fighting desperately, my father fell; my mother was taken back to the convent. The pain of her loss and the severe discipline of the order had such a terrible effect upon her brain, that she went mad and died.

Such was the fate of my parents."

"And thou?"

"I was discovered in Rome by old Hildebrand, who had been a brother-at-arms of my grandfather and father. With the King's a.s.sistance, he took me from the care of the priests, and brought me up with his own grandchildren in Regium."

"And thy estate, thine inheritance?"

"Was forfeited to the Church, which sold it, almost as a gift, to Theodahad. He was my father's neighbour; he is now my King!"

"My poor friend! But what happened to you later? I have heard only rumours--thou hast been in Greece----"