A Struggle For Rome Volume I Part 8

The sick man frowned.

"This time thou art nearer the mark. I always knew the weakness of my kingdom. When at the evening banquet I have shown the proud face of confidence to the foreign amba.s.sadors, at night I have anxiously sighed at its inward disease. Old man, I know that thou hast often considered me all too confident. But none might see me tremble, neither friend nor foe. Else my throne had trembled. I sighed only when alone, and have borne my care in solitude."

"Thou art wisdom itself, my King, and I was a fool!" cried the old man.

"Thou seest," continued the King, stroking the old man's hand, "that I knew in what I displeased thee. I knew also thy blind hatred of these Italians. Believe me, it _is_ blind, as was, perhaps, my love of them."

Here he stopped and sighed.

"Why wilt thou distress thyself?"

"No, let me continue! I know that my kingdom--the work of my glorious and toilsome life--may easily fall. Perhaps owing to my generosity to these Romans. Be it so! No work of man is eternal, and the error of over-kindness is easily borne!"

"My great King!"

"But, Hildebrand, one night, as I was lying awake, anxious about the danger of my kingdom, there rose before my soul the ghost of another sin! Not of too much kindness, but of b.l.o.o.d.y force! And woe, woe to me, if my nation is to be destroyed in expiation of the crime of Theodoric!

His, _his_ image rises before me!"

The sick man spoke with difficulty, and lay for a moment overwhelmed with emotion.

"Whose image? of whom dost thou speak?" asked the old man softly, bending over him.

"Odoacer!" whispered the King, and Hildebrand bowed his head.

At last Theodoric broke the painful silence.

"Yes, old friend, this right hand, as thou knowest, struck down the mighty hero--my guest--at the banquet-table. His hot blood splashed into my face, and an ardent hate flashed upon me from his filming eyes.

A few months past, during the night I speak of, his b.l.o.o.d.y, pale and angry form rose before me like an avenging G.o.d. My heart was contracted, my pulses beat with fever. The fearful conviction came over me that my kingdom would fall and my nation decay, because of this my b.l.o.o.d.y deed."

This time, after a short pause, Hildebrand, looking up defiantly, said:

"King, why dost thou fret like a woman? Hast thou not struck down hundreds with thine own arm, and thy people thousands at thy behest?

Have we not descended from the mountains into this land in more than thirty battles, wading ankle-deep in blood? What is the blood of _one_ man to all this? And remember the circ.u.mstances. For four years he had defied thee as the ure-ox defies the bear. Twice he had driven thee and thy folk to the brink of destruction. Hunger, sword, and pestilence carried off thy Goths. At last, at last, stubborn Ravenna fell, forced by famine. The deadly enemy lay at thy feet. Then a warning came that he contemplated treason; that he would renew the fearful strife; that he would attack thee and thine that night. What couldest thou do? Call him openly to account? If he were guilty, that could do no good, therefore thou wert beforehand with him, and did that to him in the evening which he intended doing to thee at night. That _one_ deed saved thy people, and prevented the renewal of a fearful strife. Thou forgavest all his followers, and for thirty years caused Goths and Italians to live as if in Paradise. And now thou wilt torment thyself with vain remorse? Two nations will ever thank thee for this deed! I--I would have killed him seven times over!"

The old man ceased; his eyes flashed; he looked like an angry giant.

But the King shook his head.

"That is nothing, old warrior! I have repeated the same thing to myself a hundred times, and put it into more flattering forms than is possible to thy rude tongue. All in vain! He was a hero--the only one of my kind--and I murdered him without proof of his guilt, for I was jealous, suspicious, aye, it must be said, I was _afraid_--afraid that I should be compelled again to strive with him. It was, and is, and ever will be a sin! I have found no peace in self-excuses. Since that night his image has followed me unceasingly. At the banquet and in the council-chamber; at the hunt, in the church, waking and sleeping. Then Ca.s.siodorus sent the priests and bishops to me. They could not help me.

They heard my confession, saw my grief and my faith, and absolved me from all my sins. But peace came not, and though they forgave me, I could not forgive myself. I know not whether it be the old manner of thought inherited from my heathen ancestors, but I cannot hide myself behind the Cross from the ghost of the murdered man! I cannot believe I am freed from my b.l.o.o.d.y deed by the blood of an innocent G.o.d who died upon the Cross!"

Hildebrand's face was suddenly lit up with joy.

"Thou knowest," he whispered in the King's ear, "that I could never believe the priests of the Cross. Speak, oh, speak! dost thou still believe in Thor and Odin? Have _they_ helped thee?"

The King smiled and shook his head.

"No, thou incorrigible old heathen! Thy Walhalla is nothing for me.

Hear how I was helped. Yesterday I sent the bishops away, and retired into the recesses of my own heart. I thought and wrestled and entreated G.o.d, and I became calmer, and, behold! in the night a deep slumber came upon me, such as I had not known for long months. When I awoke, no fever of torture shook my limbs; I felt composed, and my mind clearer; I felt that no grace or miracle of G.o.d could undo the deed that I had committed. I knew that if G.o.d be indeed a G.o.d of vengeance, He could punish me and my house unto the seventh generation, and I dedicated myself and my kingdom to His eternal vengeance. But, if G.o.d be just, He cannot visit the sins committed by their King upon the people of the Goths. No, He will not do that. And if ever this people decay, I feel that it will not be owing to my deed; and thus peace hath entered into my soul, and I can die with courage."

He was silent, but Hildebrand bowed his head and kissed the hand which had killed Odoacer.

"These are my parting words to thee, my legacy and thanks for a whole life of fidelity. Now let us dedicate the remaining time to the Goths.

Come, a.s.sist me to rise, I cannot die amid these cus.h.i.+ons. There hang my weapons! Give them to me! No objections! I will, and I can!"

Hildebrand was obliged to obey. With his help the sick man rose, and threw a purple mantle over his shoulders, girded on his sword, set the low helmet-crown on his head, and supporting himself on the shaft of his heavy lance, leaned his back against the thick Doric column in the middle of the room.

"Now call my daughter, and Ca.s.siodorus, and whoever else may be outside."

CHAPTER VII.

The King remained quietly standing, while Hildebrand threw back the curtains of the door on both sides, so that bed-chamber and ante-room now formed one undivided apartment. All those a.s.sembled outside--for many Goths and Romans had entered meanwhile--drew near to the King in astonished and reverent silence.

"My daughter," said the King, "are the letters written which are to announce my death and the succession of my grandchild to Byzantium?"

"Here they are," answered Amalaswintha.

The King rapidly ran through the rolls of papyrus.

"To Emperor Justinus.--A second: to his nephew, Justinia.n.u.s. 'Tis true, he will soon wear the crown, and is already the master of his masters.

I see by the fine similes that Ca.s.siodorus has written these letters.

But hold!" A cloud pa.s.sed across his face. "'Recommending my youth to your imperial protection!' Protection! That is too much. Alas! if ever you should be obliged to depend on the protection of Byzantium!

'Recommending myself to your _friends.h.i.+p_, is enough from the grandson of Theodoric." And he gave the letters back. "Still a third letter to Byzantium? To whom? 'To Theodora, the n.o.ble spouse of Justinia.n.u.s?'

What! to the dancer of the circus? To the shameless daughter of the lionkeeper?"

His eye flashed.

"She has great influence upon her husband," interposed Ca.s.siodorus.

"No, no. My daughter shall write to no female who has dishonoured the name of her s.e.x."

And he tore the roll of papyrus into pieces and threw them on the floor. Then, walking over the fragments, he advanced towards the Goths who stood in the middle of the hall.

"My brave Witichis, what will be thy office after my death?"

"I shall review our foot at Tridentum."

"None could do it better! Never yet hast thou claimed the favour which was granted to thee beforehand, when thou wert victorious over the Gepidae. Hast thou no wish even now?"

"I _have_ a wish, my King."

"At last!--that pleases me. Speak."

"A poor jailer, for refusing to apply the torture and for striking at a lictor, is himself condemned to be put to the torture to-day. Sire, set the man free! To torture is shameful, and----

"The jailer is free; and from this moment torture is abolished in the kingdom of the Goths. Look to it, Ca.s.siodorus! Brave Witichis, give me thy hand. To show to all how much I honour thee, I bequeath thee Wallada, my chestnut charger, in remembrance of this parting hour. And if ever thou art in danger, or--" here he lowered his voice, "would avoid it, whisper my name into the horse's ear. Who will watch over Neapolis? Duke Thulun was too rough. Those gay people must be won by gentle looks."

"Yes. Young Totila will be Count of the Harbour there," answered Ca.s.siodorus.