A Struggle For Rome Volume Ii Part 9

"What is it, Teja? For G.o.d's sake, what wilt thou?"

"Leave of absence! for six--three days! I must go!"

"Go? Where?"

"To revenge myself! Read--the devil who accused my parents, who drove them to desperation, madness, and death--it is he--whom I long since suspected. Here is his accusation, addressed to the Bishop of Florentia, in his own handwriting--it is Theodahad!"

"It is, it is Theodahad," said Witichis, looking up from the letter.

"Go, then! But, doubt it not, thou wilt not find him in Rome. He has certainly fled long since. He has had a great start. Thou canst not overtake him!"

"I will overtake him, even if he rides on the wings of the storm-eagle!"

"Thou wilt not find him!"

"I will find him, if I must pluck him from h.e.l.l's deepest abyss, or from out of the midst of the angels!"

"He will have fled with a strong escort," warned Witichis.

"I will reach him in the midst of a thousand demons! Hildebad, thy horse! Farewell, King of the Goths. I go to fulfil the ban!"

BOOK IV.

WITICHIS.

"And the Goths chose Witichis for their King, a man of humble origin, but a famous warrior."--_Procopius: Wars of the Goths_, i. 11.

PART I.

CHAPTER I.

Slowly sank the sun behind the green hills of Faesulae, and gilded the columns in front of the simple country-house of which Rauthgundis was the mistress.

The Gothic servants and Italian slaves were busy concluding the day's work.

The stable-man was fetching the young horses from the pasture; two other servants were bringing a herd of fine cattle home from the fields to the stable; while the goatherd, with Roman invectives, was driving forward his _proteges_, which stopped here and there to nibble the salty saxifrage which grew upon the broken walls of the road.

Other labourers were housing the agricultural implements in the large yard, and a Roman freedman, a very learned and superior personage, the upper gardener himself, left, with a contented look, the place where he practised his blooming and sweet-scented science.

Our little friend Athalwin, with his crown of bright golden hair, was just issuing from the stables.

"Don't forget, Kakus," he cried, "to throw a rusty nail into the water-bucket. Wachis spoke of it particularly. Then he need not beat thee when he comes home."

And he banged the door to.

"Nothing but trouble with these Italian servants," said the little master, with an air of importance. "Since father went away, and Wachis joined him in the camp, everything lies upon my shoulders; for mother is enough for the maids, but the men need a master."

And the little lad marched with great gravity across the yard.

"And they have no proper respect for me," he continued, pouting his cherry lips and ruffing his white forehead. "How should they? At the next equinox I shall be fully nine years old, and they still let me go about with a thing like a kitchen spoon;" and he pulled contemptuously at the little wooden sword hanging to his belt.

"They ought to give me a hunting-knife, a real weapon. With this I can do nothing, and I look like nothing!"

Yet he looked very lovely, like an angry Cupid, in his short sleeveless coat of the finest white linen, which the loving hand of his mother had spun, sewed, and embroidered with an ornamental red stripe.

"I should like very much to run into the fields and get the wild flowers for mother which she loves so much, far more than our finest garden flowers; but I must look round before they shut the doors, for, 'Athalwin,' said father, as he left us, 'take good care of the place, and protect thy mother. I rely upon thee;' and I shook hands upon it, so I must keep my word."

So saying, he went across the yard, past the front of the dwelling-house, looked into all the offices on the left, and was just about to turn to the back of the square court, when he was attracted by the loud barking of some young dogs at a noise which was heard behind the wooden fence which enclosed the whole.

He went towards the corner, and started back in surprise; for on the fence sat, or rather climbed, a strange figure.

It was a tall, haggard old man in a coa.r.s.e doublet of rough cloth, such as was worn by mountain shepherds; instead of a mantle, an immense undressed wolfskin hung over his shoulders, and in his right hand he carried a long staff with a steel point, with which he warded off the dogs, who angrily sprang at the fence.

The boy ran up.

"Stop, thou strange man! What art thou doing at my fence? Wilt get down at once!"

The old man started, and looked keenly at the handsome boy.

"Down, I say!" repeated the lad.

"Is this the way one greets a tired wanderer at this house!" asked the intruder.

"Yes, when the tired wanderer climbs over the back fence. Art thou honest and meanest honestly--in front stands the great yard-gate wide open; come in there!"

"I know that very well."

And the man prepared to climb down into the courtyard.

"Stop!" cried the boy angrily; "thou shalt not come down there. At him, Gruffo! At him, Wulfo! And if thou art not afraid of the two young ones, I will call the old one! Then take care! Hey! Thursa! Thursa!

stop him!"

At this cry an immense bristly grey wolf-hound darted round the corner of the stable with a furious bark, and was about to spring at the intruder's throat. But she had scarcely reached the fence, when her rage was suddenly changed into joy; she ceased to bark, and, wagging her tail, sprang up to the old man, who now climbed leisurely down.

"Yes, yes, Thursa, faithful b.i.t.c.h, we remember each other," he said.

"Now tell me, little man, what is thy name?"

"I am called Athalwin," answered the boy, retreating shyly; "but thou--I believe thou hast bewitched the dog--what art thou called?"

"Like thee," said the old man, in a more friendly manner; "I am glad thou hast my name. But be quiet; I am no robber! Lead me to thy mother, that I may tell her how bravely thou hast defended thy home."