A Struggle For Rome Volume Ii Part 8

"Thou, G.o.d, who rulest the stars, knowest that we are not moved by unwise delight in disobedience, or by wantonness. We use the sacred right of necessity. We honour the right of royalty, the glory which beams from the crown; but this glory is dimmed. And in the great need of the nation, we exercise a people's highest right. Heralds shall go forth to all the peoples of the earth, and announce that, not because we despise, but because we honour, the crown, have we acted thus. But, for G.o.d's sake, no disputes, no quarrels now; now, when the enemy is in the land! Therefore let us first solemnly swear, that he who has the majority, were it only of _one_ voice, we will all honour as our king--him and no other. I swear it--swear with me."

"We swear!" cried the Goths,

But young Arahad did not join in the oath. Ambition and love flamed in his heart. He remembered that after the fall of the Balthes and the Amelungs, his house was the oldest in the nation. He hoped to win Mataswintha's hand, if he could offer her a crown; and scarcely had the voices of the people died away, than he advanced and cried:

"Whom shall we choose, Goths? Reflect well! Above all, it is clear, we need a man with a young and powerful arm to lead us against the enemy.

But that alone is not sufficient. Why did our ancestors elevate the Amelungs? Because they were the n.o.blest and most ancient race, descended from the G.o.ds. The first star is extinguished; remember the second, remember the Balthes!"

"Now there lived only one male descendant of that family, a not yet adult grandchild of Duke Pitza--for Alaric, the brother of the Dukes Thulun and Ibba, had not been heard of for years. Arahad was confident that this boy would not be chosen, and that then the people would think of the third star of n.o.bility. But he erred. Old Haduswinth came forward angrily and exclaimed:

"n.o.bility and race! Are we serfs or freemen? By the Thunderer! shall we count ancestors when Belidarius is in the land? I will tell thee, boy, what a king needs. A brave arm, it is true, but not that alone. The King shall be a rock of justice, a bulwark of peace, not only a leader in the battle. The King shall have an ever-quiet and ever-clear mind, as clear as the blue sky; and, like stars, just thoughts shall rise and set therein. The King shall have an ever-equal power, but still more an ever-equal measure; he shall never lose and forget himself in love or hate, as we may, who stand below in the crowd. He shall not only be mild to friends, but just to enemies. He, in whose heart serenity is paired with bold courage, and true moderation with true strength--that man, Arahad, is kingly, even though the humblest peasant had begotten him."

Loud applause followed the words of the old man, and Arahad fell back abashed. But Haduswinth continued:

"Good Goths, I think we have such a man! I will not name him: you shall name him to me. I came here from the distant Alps of our boundary, towards the Karathans, where the wild Turbidus rushes foaming down the rocks. There I have lived for more than the usual days of man, free, proud and lonely. I heard little of the acts of men, even of the great deeds of my own nation, unless a pack-horse laden with salt happened to stray my way. And yet the warlike frame of _one_ of our heroes penetrated even to that desolate height. One who never drew his sword in an unjust cause, and who never sheathed it without victory. His name I heard again and again when I asked: Who will protect our kingdom when Theodoric dies? His name I heard in every victory that we gained, and in every work of peace that was accomplished. I had never seen him. I longed to see him. To-day I have both seen and heard him. I have looked into his eyes, that are clear and mild as the sun. I have heard his words. I heard how he pleaded for right and justice, even for a hated enemy. I heard how he alone, when blind pa.s.sion carried us away, remained serene and quiet and just. Then I thought in my heart: that man is kingly; strong in war and just in peace; true as steel and pure as gold. Goths! that man shall be our king. Name the man!"

"Earl Witichis! yes, Witichis! Hail, King Witichis!"

As the unanimous acclamation rang across the plain, a sudden fear fell upon the modest man, who had eagerly listened to the speech of the old orator, and only towards the close suspected that he himself was the man so praised.

And as he heard his name ring in this thousand-voiced shout, his only feeling was: "No! this cannot, must not be!"

He tore himself away from Teja and Hildebad, who were joyfully pressing his hands, and sprang forward, shaking his head, and, as if to protect himself, stretching forth his arm.

"No!" he cried; "no, friends! not that to me! I am a simple soldier, no king. I am perhaps a good tool, but no master! Choose another, a worthier!"

And, as if beseeching them, he held out both hands to the people. But the thundering cry, "Hail, King Witichis!" was the only answer he received.

And now old Hildebrand advanced, seized his hand, and said in a loud voice:

"Cease to resist, Witichis! Who was it who first swore to acknowledge, without hesitation, the man who gained a majority even of one voice?

See, thou hast all voices; and wilt thou refuse!"

But Witichis shook his head.

Then the old man went up to him and whispered:

"What? Must I urge thee more strongly? Must I remind thee of that midnight oath and bond; to sacrifice all for the well-being of thy people? I know--I see through thy transparent soul--that the crown is more a burthen to thee than an honour. I suspect that this crown will bring thee great and bitter pain, perhaps more pain than joy; and therefore I ask of thee, that thou accept it."

Witichis was still silent and pressed both hands over his eyes.

This by-play had lasted far too long for the enthusiasm of the people.

They already prepared the broad shield on which to lift him; they already pressed up the eminence; and, almost impatiently, the cry sounded anew, "Hail, King Witichis!"

"Think of thy oath! wilt thou keep it or break it!" whispered Hildebrand.

"Keep it!" said Witichis, and resolutely looked up. He now, without false shame or vanity, came forward a step and said: "You have chosen me, O Goths! well, then take me; I will be your king."

At this each man's sword flashed in the light, and a louder cry arose: "All hail, King Witichis!"

Old Hildebrand now descended from his place and said:

"I leave this high seat, for the place now belongs to our king. Only once again let me perform the office of the Ting-Earl. If I cannot hang the purple on thy shoulders, O King, which the Amelungs have worn; nor reach to thee their golden sceptre--take, at least, my judge's mantle and the staff of justice for a sceptre; as a sign that thou wert chosen for thy justice' sake. I cannot press Theodoric's golden circlet, the old Gothic crown, upon thy brow, then take the first leaves of the oak which thou resemblest in trustiness and strength."

With these words he broke a tender shoot of the oak and bound it round Witichis' brow.

"Up, Gothic warriors! fulfil your office with the shield!"

Haduswinth, Teja, and Hildebad took the ancient Ting-shield, lifted the King, who was now crowned with wreath, staff, and mantle, and raised him on their shoulders in sight of all the people.

"Behold, O Goths, your King, whom you yourselves have chosen, and swear allegiance to him!"

And they swore--standing upright, not kneeling=-to true to him till death.

Witichis sprang from the shield, ascended the Ting-seat and cried:

"As you swear fidelity to me, so do I to you. I will be a mild and just king; I will do right and prevent wrong. I will remember that you are free, like me, and not my slaves. And I dedicate my life, my happiness, all that is mine, to you, to the people of the good Goths! I swear it by the G.o.d of Heaven, and by my throne."

And taking the Ting-shield from the tree, he cried:

"The Ting is over. I dissolve the a.s.sembly."

The sajones at once knocked down the hazel staffs with the cords, and in disorderly confusion the ma.s.ses mingled over the wide plain.

The Romans, who, curiously but shyly, had observed from a distance this custom of a free people, such as Italy had not witnessed for more than five hundred years, now also mixed freely with the Gothic soldiers, to whom they sold wine and meat.

Witichis prepared to go with his friends and the leaders of the army to one of the tents which were erected on the bank of the river.

There a man in Roman costume--as it seemed, a well-to-do citizen--pressed among his followers, and asked eagerly for Earl Teja, the son of Tagila.

"I am he. What would you, Roman?" asked Teja, turning.

"Nought, sir, except to deliver this vase to you. See, the seal, the scorpion, is intact."

"What shall I do with the vase? I buy no such things."

"The vase is yours, sir. It is full of doc.u.ments and rolls which belong to you. My guest desired me to give it to you. I beg you, take it."

And he pressed the vase into Teja's hand, and disappeared amid the crowd.

Teja broke the seal indifferently, and took the doc.u.ments out.

Indifferently he looked at them.

But suddenly a vivid flush overspread his pale cheeks, his eyes flashed, and he convulsively bit his lip. The vase fell to the ground as he rushed up to Witichis, and said, in an almost toneless voice:

"My King! King Witichis, a favour!"