house."
Supported by his arm she climbed the steps, hewn in the rock, which led
to the tower-like, loftily-situated villa. Of the gardens, which, as
she distinctly remembered, extended on both sides of the narrow path,
scarcely the outlines of the rows of trees could be distinguished in
the mist.
At last they reached the lofty entrance, a bronze door with posts of
black marble.
Dolios knocked upon it with the hilt of his sword; the stroke
reverberated dully through the vaulted halls--the door sprang open.
Amalaswintha remembered how she had once entered this door, then almost
choked with wreaths of flowers, at the side of her young husband; she
remembered with what friendly warmth they had been welcomed by the
door-keeper and his wife, at that time also a newly-married couple.
The dark-looking slave with tangled grey hair, who now stood before her
with a lantern and a bunch of keys, was a stranger to her.
"Where is Fuscina, the wife of the late ostiarius? Is she no more in
the house?" she asked.
"She was long since drowned in the lake," answered the door-keeper
indifferently; and went forward with the light.
The Princess followed shuddering; she could not help thinking of the
cold black waves which had so dismally licked the planks of the little
boat.
They went on through arched courts and pillared halls; all were empty,
as if the inhabitants were dead. Their footsteps echoed loudly in the
deserted rooms--the whole villa seemed one vast catacomb.
"The house is uninhabited? I need a female slave."
"My wife will attend you."
"Is no one else in the villa?"
"One other slave--a Greek physician."
"A physician? I will see him----"
But at this moment a violent knocking was heard at the outer door.
Amalaswintha started in terror.
"What was that?" she asked, catching Dolios by the sleeve.
She heard the banging of the heavy door as it was closed again.
"It was only some one demanding admittance," said the ostiarius, as he
returned and unlocked the door of the room intended for the fugitive
Princess.
The close air of a chamber which had not been opened for a long time
half suffocated her; but she recognised with emotion the tortoise-shell
lining of the walls; it was the same room which she had occupied twenty
years ago.
Overpowered by the recollection, she sank upon the small couch, which
was covered with dark-coloured cushions.
Dismissing the two men, she drew close the curtains of the couch, and
soon sank into an uneasy slumber.
CHAPTER VI.
Thus she lay, she knew not how long, half awake, half dreaming; picture
after picture arose in her excited mind.
Eutharic with the expression of constant pain upon his lips--Athalaric
as he lay stretched upon his bier, he seemed to sign to her--the
reproachful face of Mataswintha--then mist and clouds and leafless
trees--then three angry warriors with pale faces and bloody
garments--and the blind ferryman in the realm of shades.
At another time it seemed to her as if she lay on the steps of the
monument in the desolate waste, and again something rustled behind her,
and a shrouded figure bent over her, nearer and nearer, oppressing and
suffocating her.
Her heart was contracted by fear; she started up terrified, and looked
about her. There!--it was no dream-fancy--something really rustled
behind the curtains, and a shrouded shadow glided along the wainscoted
walls.
With a scream Amalaswintha opened the curtain wide--there was nothing
to be seen.
Was it, then, but a dream?
It was impossible to remain alone with her torturing thoughts. She
pressed a knob of agate on the wall, which set in motion a hammer
outside the room.
Very soon a slave appeared, whose features and costume betrayed a
higher education.
He introduced himself as the Greek physician. She told him of the
terrible dreams and the feverish tremblings by which she had been
tormented during the last few hours. He explained the symptoms as the
consequence of excitement, perhaps of cold taken during her flight,
recommended a warm bath, and left her to order its preparation.
Amalaswintha remembered the splendid baths, which, divided into two
stories, occupied the whole right wing of the villa.
The lower story of the large octagonal rotunda, designed for the cold
bath, was in immediate connection with the lake. The water was
conducted into the bath through sieves, which excluded every impurity.
The upper story, a smaller octagon, was erected over the bath-room of
the lower story, the ceiling of which, made of a large circular metal
plate, formed the floor of the upper bath, and could be pushed, divided
into two semicircles, into the walls; so that both stories then formed
an undivided space, which, for the purposes of cleansing or for games
of swimming and diving, could be completely filled with the water of
the lake.
Generally, however, the upper story was used only for the warm bath,
and was provided with hundreds of pipes, and innumerable dolphin,
triton, and Medusa-heads of bronze or marble, through which flowed the
scented waters, mixed with oils and essences; while from the gallery
all round, upon which the bathers undressed, ornamental steps led down
into the shell-shaped porphyry basin of the bath.
As the Princess was recalling these rooms to her memory, the wife of
the door-keeper appeared to lead her to the bath.
They passed through wide columned halls and libraries--where, however,
the Princess missed the capsulas and rolls of Cassiodorus--in the
direction of the garden; the slave carrying fine bath-cloths, oil
flasks, and the salve for anointment.
At last they arrived at the tower-like octagon of the bath-rooms, which
was completely lined and paved with pale grey marble.
They went through the halls and passages, which served for the
gymnastics and games of ball usually indulged in before and after the
bath, past the heating-rooms, undressing and anointing-rooms, directly
to the calidarium, or warm bath.
The slave silently opened the door in the marble wall. Amalaswintha
went in and stood upon the narrow gallery which ran round the basin.
Immediately before her was a flight of easy steps leading into the
bath, out of which warm and delicious odours already arose.
The light fell from above through an octagonal dome of artistically-cut
glass. Close to the entrance into the room a staircase of cedar-wood,
consisting of twelve steps, led on to a spring-board.
On the marble walls of the gallery, as well as of the basin, the
openings of the water-works and heating-pipes were concealed by marble
bas-reliefs.
Without a word, the attendant laid the various articles for the bath
upon the soft cushions and carpets which covered the gallery, and
turned to go.
"How is it that I seem to know you?" asked the Princess, looking
thoughtfully at her. "How long have you been here?"
"Eight days," answered the slave, turning the handle of the door.
"How long have you served Cassiodorus?"
"I serve, and have always served, the Princess Gothelindis."
At this name Amalaswintha started up with a cry and caught at the
woman's skirt--too late; she was gone and the door closed, and
Amalaswintha heard the key taken from the lock outside.
A great and unknown terror overcame her. She felt that she had been
fearfully deceived; that some shocking secret lay behind. Her heart was
full of unspeakable anxiety; and flight--flight from the rooms was her
only thought.
But flight seemed impossible. The door now appeared to be only a thick
marble slab like those on the right and left; even a needle could not
have penetrated into the junctures. She looked desperately round the
walls of the gallery, but met only the marble stare of the tritons and
dolphins. At last her eyes rested upon a snake-encircled Medusa's head
directly opposite and a scream of horror escaped her lips.
The face of the Medusa was pushed aside, and the oval opening beneath,
the snaky hair was filled with a living countenance! Was it a human
face?
The trembling woman clung to the marble balustrade of the gallery, and
bent, over it, staring at the apparition. Yes, it was the distorted
features of Gothelindis! A hell of hate and mockery flashed from the
eyes.
Amalaswintha fell upon her knees and hid her face in her hands.
"_You_--you here?"
A hoarse laugh was the reply.
"Yes, child of the Amelungs, I am here; to your ruin! Mine is this
island; mine the house--it will become your grave--mine is Dolios, and
all the slaves of Cassiodorus; bought by me eight days ago. I have
decoyed you here; I have followed you like your shadow. I have endured
the torture of my hatred for long days and nights, in order to enjoy
full revenge at last. I will revel for hours in your death-agony. I
will see your tender frame shaken as with fever-frost, and your haughty
features convulsed with terror. Oh, I will drink a sea of revenge!"
Amalaswintha rose from her knees wringing her hands.
"Revenge? For what? Why this deadly hatred?"
"Ah! can you ask? Certainly years have passed, and the happy easily
forget. But hate has a faithful memory. Have you forgotten how two
young girls once played under the shade of the plantains in the meadow
at Ravenna? They were the fairest among their play-fellows; both young,
beautiful, and amiable. A royal child the one, the other a daughter of
the Balthes. The girls were about to choose a queen of the games. They
chose Gothelindis, for she was still more handsome than you, and not so
tyrannical. And they chose her twice in succession. But the King's
daughter stood near, devoured by ungovernable pride and envy, and when
they chose me for the third time she took up a pair of sharp-pointed
gardener's scissors----"
"Stop! Oh! be silent, Gothelindis!"
"And hurled it at me. It hit me. Screaming' with pain and bleeding, I
fell to the ground, my whole cheek one yawning wound, and my eye, my
eye pierced through! Ah! how it still pains, even to-day!"
"Forgive, pardon me, Gothelindis!" cried Amalaswintha. "You have
pardoned me long ago."
"Forgive? I forgive you? Shall I forgive you when you have robbed me of
my eye, and of all my beauty? You conquered for life! Gothelindis was
no more dangerous as a rival. She lamented in secret; the disfigured
girl hid from the eyes of mankind. And years passed. Then there came to
the court of Ravenna a noble Amelung from Spain; Eutharic with his dark
eyes and tender soul. And he, himself sick, took pity upon the sick and
half-blind girl. He spoke to her with affection and kindness; spoke to
the ugly, disfigured creature whom all the others avoided. And it was
decided--in order to eradicate the ancient enmity between our families,
and to expiate old and new guilt--for Duke Alaric had been condemned in
consequence of a secret and unproved accusation--that the poor ill-used
daughter of the Balthes should become the wife of the noblest of the
Amelungs. But when you heard this, you, who had so terribly disfigured
me, were resolved to deprive me also of my lover! Not out of jealousy,
no; not because you loved him, no; but from mere pride. Because you
were determined to keep the first man in the kingdom and the heir to
the crown to yourself. And you succeeded; for your father could deny
you nothing, and Eutharic soon forgot his compassion for the one-eyed
girl, when the hand of the beautiful Amalaswintha was offered to him.
In recompense--or was it only in mockery?--they gave me, too, to an
Amelung; to Theodahad, that miserable coward?"
"Gothelindis, I swear to you, I never suspected that you loved
Eutharic. How could I----"
"To be sure! how could you believe that the disfigured girl could
place her heart so high? Oh, you cursed woman, if you had really loved
him, and had made him happy--I could have forgiven all! But you never
loved him; you are only capable of ambition! His lot with you was
misery. For years I saw him wasting by your side, oppressed, unloved,
chilled to the very soul by your coldness. Grief soon killed him. You!
you have robbed me of my lover and brought him to the grave with
sorrow--revenge! revenge for him!"
And the lofty dome echoed with the cry: "Revenge! Revenge!"
"Help!" cried Amalaswintha, and ran despairingly round the circle of
the gallery, beating the smooth walls with her hands.
"Aye! call! call! here no one can hear you but the God of Revenge! Do
you think I have bridled my hate for months in vain? How often, how
easily could I have reached you, with dagger or poison, at Ravenna! But
no; I have decoyed you here. At the monument of my murdered cousins; an
hour ago at your bedside; I with difficulty restrained my uplifted
hand--but slowly, inch by inch, shall you die. I will watch for hours
the growing agony of your death."
"Terrible! Oh, terrible!"
"What are hours compared with the long years during which I was
martyred by the thought of my disfigurement, of your beauty and your
possession of my lover! But you shall repent it!"
"What will you do?" cried the terrified woman, again and again seeking
some outlet in the walls.
"I will drown you, slowly and surely, in the waterworks of this bath,
which your friend Cassiodorus built. You do not know what tortures of
jealousy and impotent rage I endured in this house when your wedding
with Eutharic was celebrated, and I was compelled to serve in your
train. In this room, you proud woman, I unloosed your sandals, and
dried your fair limbs--in this room you shall die?"
She touched a spring in the wall.
The floor of the basin, the round metal plate, divided into two halves,
which slid slowly into the walls on the right and left.
With horror the imprisoned woman looked down from the narrow gallery
into the chasm thus opened at her feet.
"Remember that day in the meadow!" cried Gothelindis; and in the lower
story the sluices were suddenly opened, and the waters of the lake
rushed in, roaring and hissing, and rose higher and higher with fearful
rapidity.
Amalaswintha saw certain death before her. She saw the impossibility of
escape, or of softening her fiendish enemy by prayers. At this crisis,
the hereditary courage of the Amelungs returned to her; she composed
herself, and was reconciled to her fate.
She descried, amid the numerous reliefs of mythological subjects near
her, a representation of the death of Christ on the right of the
entrance. The sight strengthened her mind; she threw herself upon her
knees before the marble cross, clasped it with both ands, and prayed
quietly with closed eyes, while the water rose and rose; it already
splashed upon the steps of the gallery.
"You pray, murderess? Away from the cross!" cried Gothelindis, enraged;
"think of the three dukes!"
Suddenly all the dolphin and triton heads on the right side of the
octagon began to spout streams of hot rater; white steam rushed out of
the pipes.
Amalaswintha sprang up and ran to the left side of the gallery.
"Gothelindis, I forgive you! Kill me, but forgive me also!"
And the water rose and rose; it already covered the topmost step of the
bath, and slowly wetted the floor of the gallery.
And now the streaming water-pipes spouted upon Amalaswintha from the
left also. She took refuge in the middle of the gallery, directly
opposite the Medusa, the only place where no steam from the hot-water
pipe could reach her.
If she mounted the spring-board, which was placed here, she could
respite her life for some time longer. Gothelindis seemed to expect
that she would do so, and to revel in the prospect of the lengthened
torture of the agonised woman.
The water already rushed over the marble flooring of the gallery and
laved the feet of Amalaswintha. She ran quickly up the brown and
shining wooden steps, and leaned over the railing of the bridge.
"Hear me, Gothelindis! my last prayer! not for myself, but for my
people, for _our_ people. Petros will destroy them, and Theodahad----"
"Yes, I know that the kingdom is your last anxiety! Despair. It is
lost! These foolish Goths, who have always preferred the Amelungs to
the Balthes, are sold and betrayed by the Amelungs. Belisarius
approaches, and there is no one to warn them."
"You err, satanic woman; they _are_ warned! I, their Queen, have warned
them! Hail to my people! Destruction to their enemies! and may God have
mercy on my soul!" and she suddenly leapt from the spring-board into
the water, which closed whirling over her head.
Gothelindis looked at the place which her victim had occupied a moment
before.
"She has disappeared," she said. Then she looked at the water--on the
surface floated Amalaswintha's kerchief.
"Even in death this woman conquers me," said Gothelindis slowly. "How
long was my hate, and how short my revenge!"
CHAPTER VII.
A few days after these occurrences, there were assembled in the
apartments of the Byzantine ambassador at Ravenna a number of
distinguished Romans of worldly and ecclesiastical rank. The Bishops
Hypatius and Demetrius from the Eastern Empire were also present.
Great excitement, mixed with alarm and anger, was visible on all faces,
as Petros, the rhetorician, concluded his address in these words:
"It is for this reason, reverend bishops of the East and West, and you,
noble Romans, that I have assembled you here. I protest loudly and
solemnly, in the name of the Emperor, against all secret acts of
cunning or force which may have been practised against the noble lady.
Nine days ago she disappeared from Ravenna; most likely taken by force
from your midst; she, who has ever been the friend and protector of the
Italians! On the same day, the Queen, her bitter enemy, also
disappeared. I have sent out expresses in all directions, but, until
now, am without news. But alas! if----"
He could not complete the sentence.
A confused tumult arose from the Forum of Hercules, and very soon hasty
footsteps were heard in the vestibule; the curtain was parted, and one
of the Byzantine slaves of the ambassador hurried into the room,
covered with dust.
"Sir," he cried, "she is dead! she is murdered!"
"Murdered!" repeated many voices.
"By whom?" asked Petros.
"By Gothelindis; at the villa in the Lake of Bolsena!"
"Where is the corpse? Where the murderess?"
"Gothelindis pretends that the Princess was drowned in the bath while
playing with the water-works, with which she was unacquainted. But it
is known that the Queen had followed her victim, step by step, ever
since she left the city. Romans and Goths have crowded by hundreds to
the villa to bring the corpse here in solemn procession. The Queen
escaped the fury of the people and fled to the fortress of Feretri."
"Enough," cried Petros indignantly. "I go to the King, and call upon
you all to follow me. I shall refer to your testimony of what passes in
my report to Emperor Justinian." And he at once hurried out at the head
of the assembly to the palace.
In the streets they found a throng of people rushing hither and
thither, full of rage and indignation. The news had arrived in the
city, and spread from house to house. On recognising the imperial
ambassador and the dignitaries of the city, the crowd gave way before
them, but immediately closed again behind them pressed after them to
the palace, and was with difficulty kept from entering the gates.
Every moment increased the number and excitement of the people. The
Roman citizens crowded together in the Forum of Honorius, and to their
grief for the fate of their protectress was added the hope that this
occurrence might cause the downfall of the barbarians. The appearance
of the ambassador encouraged this hope, and the feelings of the mass
took a direction which was by no means inimical alone to Theodahad and
Gothelindis.
Meanwhile Petros, with his companions, hastened to the apartments of
the helpless King, who, in the absence of his wife, had lost all
strength of resistance. He trembled at the excitement of the crowd
before the palace, and had already sent for Petros, to ask from him
help and counsel; for it was Petros himself who had decided upon the
murder of the Princess, and arranged with Gothelindis the manner of its
accomplishment. The King, therefore, now expected him to help to bear
the consequences.
When, then, the Byzantine appeared upon the threshold, Theodahad
hurried to him with open arms; but he suddenly stood still in
amazement, astonished to see what companions Petros had brought with
him, and still more astonished at his threatening aspect.
"I call you to account, King of the Goths!" cried Petros, even before
he had crossed the threshold. "In the name of Byzantium, I call you to
account for the disappearance of the daughter of Theodoric. You know
that Emperor Justinian had assured her of his particular protection;
every hair of her head is therefore sacred, and sacred every drop of
her blood. Where is Amalaswintha?"
The King stared at him in speechless astonishment. He admired this
power of dissimulation; but he did not understand its cause. He made no
answer.
"Where is Amalaswintha?" repeated Petros, advancing threateningly: and
his companions also came a step forward.
"She is dead," said Theodahad, who began to feel extremely anxious.
"She is murdered!" cried Petros. "So says all Italy. Murdered by you
and your wife. Justinian, my illustrious Emperor, was the protector of
this woman, and he will be her avenger. In his name I declare war
against you--war against you and all your race!"
"War against you and all your race!" repeated the Italians, carried
away by the excitement of the moment, and giving vent to their
long-cherished hatred; and they pressed upon the trembling King.
"Petros," he stammered in terror, "you will remember our treaty, and
you will----"
But the ambassador took a roll of papyrus out of his mantle, and tore
it in two.
"Thus I tear all bonds between my Emperor and this bloodthirsty house!
You yourselves by this cruel deed have forfeited all our former
forbearance, No treaties--war!"
"For God's sake!" cried Theodahad; "no fighting! What do you demand,
Petros?"
"Complete subjection. The evacuation of Italy. Yourself and Gothelindis
I summon to Byzantium, before the throne of Justinian. There----"
But his speech was interrupted by the sounding clang of the Gothic
alarum, and into the room hurried a strong troop of Gothic warriors,
led by Earl Witichis.
On hearing of Amalaswintha's death, the Gothic leaders had at once
summoned the most valiant men of the nation in Ravenna to meet before
the Porta Romana, and there they had agreed upon the best means of
security. They had appeared in the Forum of Honorius just at the right
moment--when the excitement was becoming dangerous. Here and there a
dagger flashed, and the cry arose, "Woe to the barbarians!"
These signs and voices ceased at once, as the hated Goths advanced in
close ranks from the Forum of Hercules through the Via Palatina.
Without resistance, they marched through the murmuring groups; and
while Earl Teja and Hildebad guarded the gates and terraces of the
palace, Witichis and Hildebrand arrived in the King's rooms just in
time to hear the last words of the ambassador.
Wheeling to the right, they placed their followers near the throne, to
which the King had just retreated; and Witichis, leaning on his long
sword, went close up to Petros, and looked keenly into his eyes.
A pause of expectation ensued.
"Who dares," asked Witichis quietly, "to play the master here in the
royal palace of the Goths?"
Recovering from his surprise, Petros answered,
"It does not become you, Earl Witichis, to interfere for the protection
of a murderer. I have summoned the King before the court at Byzantium."
"And for this insult thou hast no reply, Amelung?" cried old Hildebrand
angrily.
But his bad conscience tied the King's tongue.
"Then we must speak for him," said Witichis "Know, Greek, and
understand it well, you false and ungrateful Ravennites, the nation of
the Goths is free and acknowledges no foreign master or judge or
earth."
"Not even for murder?"
"If evil deeds occur amongst us, we ourselves will judge and punish
them. It does not concern strangers; least of all our enemy, the
Emperor of Byzantium."
"My Emperor will revenge this woman, whom he could not save. Deliver up
the murderers to Byzantium."
"We would not deliver up a Gothic hind, much less our King!"
"Then you share his guilt and his punishment, and I declare war against
you in the name of my master. Tremble before Justinian and Belisarius!"
A movement of joy amongst the Gothic warriors was the only answer.
Old Hildebrand went to the window, and cried to the Goths, who crowded
below:
"News! joyful news! War with Byzantium!"
At this a tumult broke loose below, as if the sea had burst its dams;
weapons clashed, and a thousand voices shouted:
"War! war with Byzantium!"
This repetition of his words was not without effect upon Petros or the
Italians. The fierceness of this enthusiasm alarmed them; they were
silent, and cast down their eyes.
While the Goths, shaking hands, congratulated each other, Witichis went
up to Petros with an earnest mien, and said solemnly:
"Then it is war! We do not shun it; that you have heard. Better open
war than this lurking, undermining enmity. War is good; but woe to him
who kindles it without reason and without a just cause! I see
beforehand years of blood and murder and conflagration; I see trampled
corn-fields, smoking towns, and numberless corpses swimming down the
rivers! Listen to our words. Upon your heads be this blood, this
misery! You have irritated and excited us for years; we bore it
quietly. And now you have declared war against us, judging where you
had no right to judge, and mixing yourselves in the affairs of a nation
which is as free as your own. On your heads be the responsibility! This
is our answer to Byzantium."
Silently Petros listened to these words; silently he turned and went
out, followed by his companions.
Some of them accompanied him to his residence, amongst them the Bishop
of Florentia.
"Reverend friend," Petros said to the latter at parting, "the letters
of Theodahad about the matter you know of, which you entrusted to me
for perusal, you must leave entirely at my disposal. I need them, and
they are no longer necessary to you."
"The process is long since decided," answered the Bishop, "and the
property irrevocably acquired. The documents are yours."
The ambassador then dismissed his friends, who hoped soon to see him
again in Ravenna with the imperial army, and went to his chamber, where
he at once despatched a messenger to Belisarius, ordering him to invade
the country. Then he wrote a detailed report to the Emperor, which
concluded in the following words:
"And so, my Emperor, you seem to have just reason to be contented with
the services of your most faithful messenger, and the situation of
affairs. The barbarian nation split into parties; a hated Prince,
incapable and faithless, upon the throne; the enemy surprised,
unprepared and unarmed; the Italian population everywhere in your
favour. We cannot fail! If no miracle occur, the barbarians must
succumb almost without resistance; and, as often before, my great
Emperor appears as the protector of the weak and the avenger of wrongs.
It is a witty coincidence that the trireme which brought me here bears
the name of _Nemesis_. Only one thing afflicts me much, that, with all
my efforts, I have not succeeded in saving the unhappy daughter of
Theodoric. I beg you, at least, to assure my mistress, the Empress, who
was never very graciously disposed to me, that I tried most faithfully
to obey all her injunctions concerning the Princess, whose fate she
entrusted to me as her principal anxiety during our last interview. As
to the question about Theodahad and Gothelindis, by whose assistance
the Gothic Kingdom has been delivered into our hands, I will venture to
recall to the Empress's memory the first rule of prudence: it is too
dangerous to have the sharers of our profoundest secrets at court."
This letter Petros sent on in advance with the two bishops, Hypatius
and Demetrius, who were to go immediately to Brundusium, and thence
through Epidamnos by land to Byzantium.
He himself intended to follow in a few days, sailing slowly along the
Gothic coasts of the Ionian Gulf, in order to prove the temper and
excite the rebellion of the inhabitants of the harbour towns.
He would afterwards sail round the Peloponnesus and Eub[oe]a to
Byzantium, for the Empress had ordered him to travel by sea, and had
given him commissions for Athens and Lampsacus.
Before his departure from Ravenna, he already calculated the rewards he
expected to receive at Byzantium for his successful operations in
Italy.
He would return twice as rich as he had come, for he had never
confessed to the Queen, Gothelindis, that he had come into the country
with the order to overthrow Amalaswintha.
He had rather, for some time, met her with representations of the anger
of the Empress and Emperor, and had, with great show of repugnance,
allowed himself to be bribed with large sums to connive at her plans,
when, actually, he but used her as his tool.
He looked forward with certainty to the proud rank of patrician in
Byzantium, and already rejoiced that he would be able to meet his
haughty cousin, Narses--who had never used his influence to advance
him--on equal terms.
"So everything has succeeded better than I could wish," he said to
himself with great complacency, as he set his papers in order before
leaving Ravenna, "and this time, my proud friend Cethegus, cunning has
proved truly excellent. The little rhetorician from Thessalonica, with
his small and stealthy steps, has advanced farther than you with your
proud strides. Of one thing I must be careful: that Theodahad and
Gothelindis do not escape to Byzantium; it would be too dangerous.
Perhaps the question of the astute Empress was intended as a warning.
This royal couple must be put out of our way."
Having completed his arrangements, Petros sent for the friend with whom
he lodged, and took leave of him. At the same time he delivered to him
a dark-coloured narrow vase, such as those which were used for the
preservation of documents; he sealed the cover with his ring, which was
finely engraved with a scorpion, and wrote a name upon the wax-tablet
appended to it.
"Seek this man," he said to his host, "at the next assembly of the
Goths at Regeta, and give him the vase; the contents are his. Farewell.
You shall soon see me again in Ravenna."
He left the house with his slaves, and was soon on board the
ambassador's ship; filled with proud expectations, he was borne away by
the _Nemesis_.
As his ship, many weeks after, neared the harbour of Byzantium--he had,
at the Empress's wish, announced his speedy arrival at Lampsacus, by
means of an imperial swift-sailer which was just leaving--Petros looked
at the handsome country houses on the shore, which shone whitely from
out of the evergreen shade of the surrounding gardens.
"Here you will live in future, amongst the senators of the Empire," he
thought with great contentment.
Before they ran into the harbour, the _Thetis_, the splendid
pleasure-boat of the Empress, flew towards them, and, as soon as she
recognised the galley of the ambassador, hoisted the purple standard,
as a sign to lay to.
Very soon a messenger from the Empress came on board the galley. It was
Alexandros, the former ambassador to the court of Ravenna. He showed to
the captain of the galley a writing from the Emperor, at which the
captain appeared to be much startled; then he turned to Petros.
"In the name of the Emperor Justinian! You are condemned for life,
convicted of long-practised forgery and embezzlement of the taxes, to
the metal-works in the mines of Cherson, with the Ultra-Ziagirian Huns.
You have delivered the daughter of Theodoric into the hands of her
enemies. The Emperor thought you excused when he read your letter; but
the Empress, inconsolable for the death of her royal sister, revealed
your former guilt to the Emperor, and a letter from the Prefect of Rome
proved that you had secretly planned the murder of the Princess with
Gothelindis. Your fortune is confiscated, and the Empress wishes you to
recollect--" here he whispered into the ear of Petros, who was
completely stunned and broken by this terrible blow--"that you
yourself, in your letter, advised her to get rid of all the sharers of
her secrets."
With this, Alexandros returned to the _Thetis_, but the _Nemesis_
turned her stern to Byzantium, and bore the criminal away for ever from
all civilised community with mankind.
CHAPTER VIII.
We have lost sight of Cethegus ever since his departure for Rome.
During the events which we have described, he had been extremely active
in that city, for he saw that things were coming to a crisis, and
looked forward with confidence to a favourable result.
All Italy was united in hatred against the barbarians, and who could so
well direct this hatred as the head of the conspiracy of the Catacombs,
and the master of Rome?
For now he was so in fact. The legions were fully formed and equipped,
and the fortifications of the city--the works of which had been carried
on for the last few months night and day--were almost completed.
And, as he thought, he had finally succeeded preventing an immediate
incursion of the Byzantine army into Italy, the greatest calamity which
threatened his ambitious plans. He had learned, through trustworthy
spies, that the Byzantine fleet--which, till now had been anchored off
Sicily--had really left that island, and sailed towards the African
coast, where seemed occupied in suppressing piracy.
Cethegus certainly foresaw that it would yet come to a landing of the
Greeks in Italy; he could not do without their help. But it was
material to his plans that the Emperor's assistance should be of
secondary importance, and, to insure this, he must take care that,
before a single Byzantine had set foot in Italy, a rebellion of the
Italians should have taken place spontaneously, and have been already
carried to such a point, that the later co-operation of the Greeks
would appear to be a mere incident, and could be easily repaid by the
acknowledgment of a light supremacy of the Emperor.
To this end he had prepared his plans with great nicety.
As soon as the last tower on the Roman walls was under roof, the Goths
were to be attacked on one and the same day all over Italy, and, at one
stroke, all the fortresses, castles, and towns--Rome, Ravenna, and
Neapolis foremost--were to be overpowered and taken.
If the barbarians were once driven into the open country, there was no
fear--considering their complete ignorance of the art of siege, and the
number and strength of the Italian fortresses--that they would be able
to take these last, and thereby again become masters of the peninsula.
Then an allied army from Byzantium might aid in finally driving the
Goths over the Alps; and Cethegus was resolved to prevent these allies
from entering the most important fortresses, so that, later, they also
might be got rid of without difficulty.
To ensure the success of this plan, it was necessary that the Goths
should be taken by surprise. If war with Byzantium were in prospect,
or, still worse, already broken out, it naturally followed that the
barbarians would not allow their fortified places to be wrested from
them by a mere stroke of the hand.
Now as Cethegus--since he had penetrated the motives of the embassy of
Petros--fully expected that Justinian would come forward at the first
opportunity, and as he had barely succeeded in preventing the landing
of Belisarius, he was resolved not to lose a moment's time.
He had arranged that a general meeting of the conspirators should take
place in the Catacombs on the day of the completion of the Roman
fortifications, when their successful termination should be celebrated,
the moment of the attack on the Goths decided, and Cethegus himself
designated as the leader of this purely Italian movement.
He hoped to overcome the opposition of the timorous or the bribed--who
were inclined to act only for and with the assistance of Byzantium--by
the enthusiasm of the Roman youth, whom he would promise to lead at
once to battle.
Before the day of meeting arrived, he had heard the news of
Amalaswintha's murder, and of the confusion and division of the Goths,
and he impatiently longed for the crisis.
At length the last tower of the Aurelian Grate was completed. Cethegus
himself gave the finishing stroke, and as he did so it seemed to him
that he heard the sound of the blow which would liberate Rome and
Italy.
At the banquet which he afterwards gave to thousands of labourers in
the theatre of Pompey, most of the conspirators were present, and the
Prefect made use of the opportunity to show them how unlimited was his
popularity. Upon the younger members the impression which he wished and
expected to make was produced, but a small party, headed by Silverius,
retired from the tables with discontented and gloomy looks.
The priest had lately seen that Cethegus would not consent to be a mere
tool, but that he contrived to carry out his own plans, which might
prove extremely dangerous to the Church and to his (the priest's)
personal influence. He was decided to overthrow his colleague as soon
as he could be spared, and it had not been difficult for him to excite
the jealousy of many Romans against Cethegus.
The wily archbishop had taken advantage of the presence of the two
bishops from the Eastern Empire, Hypatius of Ephesus and Demetrius of
Philippi--who secretly treated with the Pope in matters of faith, and
with King Theodahad in affairs of policy--to enter into a close and
secret alliance with Theodahad and Byzantium.
"You are right, Silverius," grumbled Scaevola, as they issued from the
doors of the theatre, "the Prefect unites Marius and Caesar in one
person."
"He does not throw away such immense sums for nothing," said the
avaricious Albinus warningly; "we must not trust him too far."
"Beloved brethren," said the priest, "see that you do not lightly
condemn a member of our community. Who should do this would be worthy
of hell-fire! Certainly Cethegus commands the fists of the workmen as
well as the hearts of his young 'knights;' and it is well, for he can
therewith break the tyranny----"
"But at the same time he could replace it by new despotism," interrupted
Calpurnius.
"That he shall not, if daggers can still kill, as in the time of
Brutus!" cried Scaevola.
"Bloodshed is not necessary. Consider; the nearer the tyrant, the more
oppressive the tyranny; the farther the ruler, the more bearable his
government. The power of the Prefect must be balanced by the power of
the Emperor."
"Yes," affirmed Albinus, who had received large sums from Byzantium,
"the Emperor must become master of Italy."
"That is," said Silverius, restraining Scaevola, who would have
interrupted indignantly, "we must keep down the Prefect by means of the
Emperor, and the Emperor by means of the Prefect. See, we have arrived
at the door of my house. Let us enter. I must tell you in confidence
what will be made known to the assembly to-night. It will surprise you;
but other people still more."
Meanwhile the Prefect had also hurried home from the banquet, to
prepare for his important work by lonely meditation.
He did not think over his speech; he knew long ago what he had to say;
and, a splendid orator, to whom words came as readily as thoughts, he
willingly left the mode of expression to the impulse of the moment,
knowing well that words which issue spontaneously from the heart, have
the liveliest effect.
But he sought for inward composure; for his passions were vividly
excited.
He thought over the steps which he had taken in order to reach his
goal, since first he had been drawn towards it with demoniac force. He
measured the short space which he had still to tread; he counted the
difficulties and hindrances which lay upon his path, and measured the
strength of mind with which he could overcome them; and the result of
all this examination awakened in him a certainty of victory which
filled him with youthful enthusiasm.
He measured his room with rapid strides; the muscles of his arms
swelled as if in the hour of battle; he girded himself with the broad
and victorious sword of his former campaigns, and convulsively grasped
the hilt as if he were about to fight for his Rome against two worlds:
against Byzantium and the barbarians.
He paused before the statue of Caesar, and looked long at the silent
marble face.
"Farewell!" he cried, "give me thy good fortune upon my way. More I do
not need."
He turned quickly, and hurried out of the room and through the atrium
into the street, where the first stars were already shining. The
conspirators had assembled in the Catacombs on this evening in greater
numbers than ever, for urgent invitations had been sent through all
Italy.
According to the wish of the Prefect, all strategically important
places were represented at this meeting. Deputies had been sent from
the strong warders of the frontiers, Tridentum, Tarvisium, and Verona,
which behold the ice of the Alps; from Otorantum and Consentia, which
are laved by the tepid waves of the Ausonian Sea; from all the
celebrated towns of Sicily and Italy, with the proud, beautiful, and
historic names: Syracuse and Catana, Panormus and Messana, Regium,
Neapolis and Cumae, Capua and Beneventum, Antium and Ostia, Reate and
Narnia, Volsinii, Urbsvetus and Spoletum, Clusium and Perusia, Auximum
and Ancona, Florentia and Faesulas, Pisa, Luca, Luna and Genua;
Ariminum, Casena, Faventia, and Ravenna; Parma, Dertona and Placentia;
Mantua, Cremona, and Ticinum (Pavia); Mediolanum, Comum, and Bergamum;
Asta and Pollentia; and from the northern and eastern coasts of the
Ionian Gulf: Concordia, Aquileja, Iadera, Scardona, and Salona.
There were grave senators and judges, who had grown grey in the
councils of their towns, where their ancestors had been leaders for
centuries; wise merchants, broad-shouldered proprietors, disputing
jurists, mocking rhetoricians, and in particular a great number of
clergy of all ranks and all ages: the only firmly organised party, and
which was implicitly obedient to Silverius.
As Cethegus, still concealed behind the corner of the narrow entrance,
overlooked the groups assembled in the rotunda of the grotto, he could
not restrain a contemptuous smile, which, however, ended in a sigh.
Excepting the general dislike to the barbarians--which, however, was by
no means strong enough to support the sacrifices and self-denial
necessary to the accomplishment of difficult political plans--what
different and often what small motives had led these men together!
Cethegus knew exactly the motives of each individual: had he not been
able to influence them by taking advantage of their foibles? And, after
all, he could not but rejoice at this, for he could never have brought
true Romans so completely under his influence as he had done these
conspirators.
But as he now looked at the assembled patriots, and reflected how one
had been induced to join the discontented, in the hope of a title from
Byzantium; another by bribery; another from revenge or on account of
some personal offence, or even from tedium, or debts, or some foolish
dilemma; and when he told himself that with _such_ colleagues he must
meet the warriors of the Gothic army--he almost shrank from the
temerity of his plan.
It was some relief to him, when the clear voice of Lucius Licinius
attracted his looks to the troop of young "knights," whose truly
martial courage and national enthusiasm were expressed on their
features; there at least he had a few trustworthy weapons.
"Welcome! Lucius Licinius," he said, as he stepped out of the darkness
of the passage, "Ha, ha! you are mailed and armed as if we were going
straight from hence to meet the barbarians!"
"I can scarcely contain myself for joy and hate!" cried the handsome
youth. "Look here, all these I have won for you, for the cause of the
fatherland."
Cethegus looked round and greeted the others.
"You here also, Kallistratos? you merry son of peace!"
"Hellas will not desert her sister Italia in the hour of danger," said
the Greek, and laid his white hand upon his elegant, ivory-hilted
sword.
Cethegus nodded to him and turned to the rest; Marcus Licinius, Piso,
Massurius, Balbus, who, completely won for the Prefect since the feast
of the Floralia, had brought with them their brothers, cousins, and
friends.
Cethegus looked searchingly through the groups; he seemed to miss some
one.
Lucius Licinius guessed his thoughts.
"You seek the dark Corsican, Furius Ahalla? You must not reckon upon
him. I sounded him thoroughly, but he said: 'I am a Corsican--no Roman.
My trade flourishes under Gothic protection. Leave me out your game.'
And when I pressed him further--for I would gladly win his brave sword
and the many thousands of hands which he commands--he said abruptly: 'I
will not fight against Totila.'"
"The Gods alone know what binds the wild tiger to that milksop," said
Piso.
Cethegus smiled, but frowned as well.
"I think we Romans will suffice," he said in a loud voice; and the
youths looked at him with beating hearts.
"Open the assembly," said Scaevola impatiently to Silverius. "You see
how he talks over the young people; he will win them all. Interrupt
him; speak!"
"Immediately. Are you sure that Albinus will come?"
"He will; he waits for the messengers at the Appian gate."
"Well," said the priest, "God be with us!"
And he stepped into the middle of the rotunda, raised the black cross
which he held, and began:
"In the name of the Triune God! We have again assembled in the gloom of
night for the works of light. Perhaps for the last time; for the Son of
God, to whom the heretics refuse all honour, has wonderfully blessed
our endeavours. Next to God, our warmest thanks are due to the noble
Emperor Justinian and his pious spouse, who listen to the sighs of the
suffering Church with active sympathy; and, lastly, to our friend and
leader here, the Prefect, who zealously works for the cause of our
master the Emperor----"
"Stop, priest!" cried Lucius Licinius. "Who calls the Emperor of
Byzantium our _master_? We will not have the Greeks instead of the
Goths! We will be free!"
"We will be free!" echoed the chorus of his friends.
"We shall _become_ free!" continued Silverius. "Certainly! But that is
not possible unaided. The Emperor must help us. And do not think,
beloved youths, that the man whom you honour as your leader, Cethegus,
is of a different opinion. Justinian has sent him a costly ring--his
portrait in carneol--as a sign that he is contented with the Prefect's
services, and the Prefect has accepted the ring. Behold, he wears it on
his finger."
Startled and indignant, the youths looked at Cethegus, who silently
advanced into the middle of the room.
A painful pause ensued.
"Speak, General!" cried Lucius; "contradict him! It is not as he says
with the ring!"
But Cethegus nodded and drew off the ring.
"It is as he says. The ring is from the Emperor, and I have accepted
it."
Lucius Licinius fell back a step.
"As a sign?" asked Silverius.
"As a sign," cried Cethegus, in a threatening voice, "that I am not the
ambitious egoist for which many take me. As a sign that I love Italy
more than my ambition. Yes, I built upon Byzantium, and would have
given up the leadership to the mighty Emperor; therefore I took this
ring. I build no more upon Byzantium, for she hesitates everlastingly:
therefore I have brought the ring with me to-day, in order to return it
to the Emperor. You, Silverius, have proved yourself the representative
of Byzantium; here, return his pledge to your master; he delays too
long. Tell him Italy will help herself!"
"Italy will help herself!" shouted the young Romans.
"Reflect what you do!" cried the priest with restrained anger.
"I understand the hot courage of youth--but that my friend, the
ripe and experienced man, stretches forth his hand for what is
unattainable--_that_ surprises me! Remember the strength and ferocity
of the barbarians! Reflect that the Italians are unused to arms, that
all the fortresses of the country are in the hands----"
"Be silent, priest," thundered Cethegus. "You do not understand such
matters! Speak where the psalms have to be explained or souls led to
heaven, for that is your office; but where war and fighting are
concerned, let those speak who understand! We will leave you all
heaven--leave the earth to us. Roman youths, you have the choice. Will
you wait until this cautious Byzantium vouchsafes to take pity upon
Italy?--you may become weary old men before then!--or will you in old
Roman fashion, win freedom with your own swords? You will; I see it by
your sparkling eyes. How? They tell us we are too weak to liberate
Italy! Ha! were not your fathers Romans, who conquered the world?
If I call upon you, man by man, there is not a name which does not ring
with the fame of a hero. Decius, Corvinus, Cornelius, Valerius,
Licinius--will you free the fatherland with me?"
"We will! Lead us, Cethegus!" cried the youth with enthusiasm.
After a pause Scaevola began:
"My name is Scaevola. When the names of Roman heroes are cited, the race
which inherits the heroism of the Celts might have been remembered. I
ask you, Cethegus, have you more than dreams and wishes, like these
young fools? have you a plan?"
"More than that, Scaevola, I have, and will keep, the victory! Here is a
list of all the fortresses in Italy. At the next Ides, that is in
thirty days, they will fall, at one blow, into my hands."
"What? must we still wait thirty days?" asked Lucius.
"Only till the deputies assembled here have again reached their towns.
Only till my expresses have flown through Italy. You have _had_ to wait
forty years!"
But the impatience of the youths, which he himself had excited, was not
to be subdued; they looked gloomy at the postponement--they murmured.
The priest was quick to take advantage of this change of humour.
"No, Cethegus," he cried; "we cannot delay so long! Tyranny is
unbearable to the noble-minded; shame upon him who endures it longer
than he must! I know of better comfort, youths! In a few days the
spears of Belisarius may flash in Italian sunshine."
"Or shall we, perhaps," asked Scaevola, "refuse to follow Belisarius
because he is not Cethegus?"
"You speak of wishes," cried Cethegus, "not of realities. If Belisarius
land, I shall be the first to join him. But he will not land. It is
this which has disgusted me; the Emperor does not keep his word."
Cethegus played a very bold game. But he could not do otherwise.
"You may err," said Silverius, "and the Emperor may fulfil his promise
sooner than you think. Belisarius lies off Sicily."
"Not now. He has gone towards Africa, towards home. Hope nothing from
Belisarius."
Just then hasty steps were heard in the passage, and Albinus rushed in.
"Triumph!" he cried. "Freedom! freedom!"
"What news?" asked the priest.
"War! deliverance! Byzantium has declared war against the Goths!"
"Freedom! war!" shouted the Romans.
"It is impossible!" said Cethegus.
"It is certain!" cried another voice from the entrance--it was
Calpurnius, who had followed close upon Albinus. "And, more than this,
the war has commenced. Belisarius has landed in Sicily, at Catana;
Syracusae and Messana have surrendered; Panormus he has taken with the
fleet. He has crossed to Italy, from Messana to Regium; he is upon
Italian soil!"
"Freedom!" cried Marcus Licinius.
"Everywhere the population joins him. The Goths, taken by surprise, fly
from Apulia and Calabria. Belisarius presses on without pause, through
Bruttia and Lucania, to Neapolis."
"It is all lies--lies!" cried Cethegus, more to himself than to the
others.
"You do not seem pleased at the success of the good cause! But the
messenger rode three horses to death. Belisarius has landed with thirty
thousand men."
"Who still doubts is a traitor!" cried Scaevola.
"Now let us see," said Silverius to Cethegus sarcastically, "if you
will keep your word. Will you be the first to join Belisarius?"
At this bitter moment a whole world--_his_ world--sank before the eyes
of Cethegus. So, then, all had been in vain; worse than that--what he
had done, had been done for a hated enemy. Belisarius in Italy with a
strong army, and he deceived, powerless, conquered! Any other man would
have given up all further effort.
But not a shadow of discouragement crossed the mind of the Prefect. His
gigantic edifice was shattered; the noise of its fall still deafened
him, and yet at the same moment he had already resolved to begin again.
His world was destroyed, and he had no time even to sigh, for the eyes
of all were fixed upon him.
"Well, what will you do?" repeated Scaevola.
Cethegus disdained to look at him.
He turned to the assembly, and spoke in a quiet voice:
"Belisarius has landed," he said; "he is now our leader. I shall at
once go to his camp."
With this he walked, with measured steps and a composed countenance,
past Silverius and his friends towards the exit.
Silverius would have whispered a word of sarcasm, but he was startled
at the glance which the Prefect cast upon him.
"Do not rejoice too soon, priest," it seemed to say; "you will repent
this hour!" And Silverius, the victor, was dumb.
CHAPTER IX.
The landing of the Byzantines had taken both Goths and Italians by
surprise; for the last move of Belisarius to the east had misled both
parties.
Of all our Gothic friends, Totila alone was in South Italy. He had, in
his office as commodore and Count of the Harbour of Neapolis, in vain
warned the Government of Ravenna of the impending danger, and begged
for the power and means of defending Sicily.
We shall see how he had been deprived of all possibility of preventing
the catastrophe which threatened to overwhelm his nation, and which was
to throw the first shadow upon the brilliant path of his own life, and
tear the web of good fortune which a happy fate had, until now, woven
about this favourite of the gods.
Valerius, who, though stern, had a noble and kindly nature, had soon
been won by Totila's irresistible amiability. We have seen how strongly
the prayers of his daughter, the memory of his wife's last words, and
Totila's frankness, had influenced the worthy man, even when he was
irritated at the discovery of the lovers' secret meetings.
Totila remained at the villa as a guest. Julius, with his winning
affection, was called upon to help the lovers, and to their united
influence the father gradually yielded.
But this was only possible because Totila assimilated to the Romans
more nearly in manners, education, and inclinations than any other
Goth: so that Valerius soon saw that he could not call a youth a
"barbarian" who knew and appreciated the language, wisdom, and beauty
of Hellenic and Roman literature better than most Italians, and
admired the culture of the ancient world no less than he loved his
fellow-countrymen.
And, in addition to all this, a common hatred of Byzantium united the
old Roman and the young German.
The Valerians had always belonged to the aristocratic Republican
opposition against the Caesars, and, since the time of Tiberius, many a
member of this family had sealed with his blood his fidelity to the
cause of Old Republicanism.
The family had never really acknowledged the removal of the Empire of
the World from the city on the Tiber to that on the Bosphorus. In the
Byzantine imperial dignity Valerius beheld the acme of all tyranny,
and, at any cost, would gladly have saved his Latium from the avarice,
religious intolerance, and Oriental despotism of the Byzantine
Emperors.
Added to this, the father and brother of Valerius had been arrested at
Byzantium by an avaricious predecessor of Justinian, while passing
through that city, and, on pretence of participation in a conspiracy,
had been executed, and all their eastern possessions had been
confiscated; so that private loss considerably strengthened the
political hatred of the patriot. When Cethegus introduced him to the
conspiracy of the Catacombs, he had eagerly taken up the idea of an
Italian rebellion; but had repulsed all advances of the imperial party
with the words, "Rather death than Byzantium!"
So the two, Valerius and Totila, were unanimous in the resolution to
tolerate no Byzantine in their beloved country, which was scarcely less
dear to the Goth than to the Roman.
The lovers took care not to press the old man, at present, to make any
formal promise; they contented themselves with the freedom of
intercourse allowed by Valerius, and waited quietly until the influence
of habit should gradually accustom him to the thought of their ultimate
union.
Our young friends thus passed many happy days, and, added to the bliss
of their mutual love, they had the delight of witnessing the growing
affection of Valerius for Totila.
Julius was filled with the noble exaltation which lies in the sacrifice
of one's own passion for the sake of another's happiness. His soul,
unsatisfied by the wisdom of old philosophy, turned more and more
to the doctrine which teaches that peace is only to be found in
self-denial.
Valeria was of a very different nature. She was the true expression of
the Roman ideal of her father, who had conducted her education in place
of her early-lost mother, and had imbued her with the spirit of the
antique Pagans. Christianity--to which she hard been dedicated by an
outward form at the very commencement of her life, and from which she
had afterwards been wrested by an equally external formality--seemed to
her a fearful power, by no means loved or understood, but which,
nevertheless, she could not exclude from the circle of her thoughts and
feelings.
Like a true Roman, she noticed with joy and pride, not with dismay, the
martial enthusiasm with which Totila spoke to her father in their
conversations concerning Byzantium. She felt that he was born to be a
hero, and so, when duty suddenly called him away from love and
friendship, she bore the parting with noble self-control.
For as soon as the Byzantine fleet was known to be cruising off
Syracusae, the young Goth was inflamed with an insatiable thirst for
war. It was his duty, as commodore of the South Italian squadron, to
watch the movements of the enemy and protect the coast. He promptly set
sail to meet the Grecian fleet, and demanded the reason of its
appearance in those waters. Belisarius, who had orders to avoid all
inimical proceedings until called upon to commence hostilities by
Petros, gave a peaceful and plausible answer, alleging as his pretext
the disturbances in Africa and the piracies of Mauritanian ships.
Totila was obliged to content himself with this reply, but in his heart
he was sure that the war would soon break out; perhaps only because he
so ardently desired it.
He therefore took all precautions: sent messengers with warnings to
Ravenna, and, above all, essayed to protect the city of Neapolis at
least towards the sea, for the inland fortifications had fallen into
decay during the long peace, and old Uliaris, the commander of the
city, was not to be shaken out of his proud security and contempt of
the Greeks.
The Goths in general cherished the dangerous delusion that the
Byzantines would never dare to attack them; and their treacherous King
did all in his power to strengthen this belief.
The warnings of Totila, therefore, were disregarded, and the zealous
commodore was even deprived of his whole fleet, which was ordered to
the Harbour of Ravenna, on the pretext of an exchange; but the ships
which should have replaced those which had sailed away never arrived.
So Totila had nothing left but a few small guardships, with which, as
he declared to his friends, he could not even sufficiently watch the
movements of the enemy, much less prevent their advance.
When apprised of all this, the merchant determined to leave his
villa at Neapolis, and to go to his rich estates and mercantile
establishments at Regium, on the south point of the peninsula, in order
to remove all his most valuable property from that neighbourhood--where
Totila feared the first attack of the enemy--and bring it to Neapolis;
and also to make his preparations in case of a prolonged war.
Julius was to accompany him on this journey; and Valeria was not to be
persuaded to remain behind in the empty villa; so, as Totila assured
them that no danger was to be feared for the next few days, the three,
accompanied by a few slaves, journeyed to the villa on the estate near
the Pass of Jugum, to the north of Regium, which, situated close to the
sea, was partly, with all the luxury already so severely blamed by
Horace, "daringly built out" into the very sea itself.
Valerius found things in a bad condition. His stewards, taking
advantage of the prolonged absence of their master, had made sad work,
and Valerius saw with indignation that, in order to repair the
mischief, his presence would be necessary, not for days, but for weeks.
Meanwhile the threatening symptoms increased. Totila sent many warning
messages; but Valeria decided that she could not leave her father while
in danger, and the latter scorned to fly before the "degenerate
Greeks," whom he still more despised than hated.
One day they were surprised by the arrival of two boats, which ran into
the little harbour of the villa at Regium almost at the same moment.
One brought Totila; the other the Corsican, Furius Ahalla.
The two greeted each other with surprise, but, as old acquaintances,
were well pleased to meet, and walked together through the taxus-hedges
and laurel walks to the villa. There they parted, Totila saying that he
wished to pay a visit to his friend Julius, while the Corsican had
business with the merchant, with whom he had for years been connected
in a commerce which was equally advantageous to both parties.
Valerius was therefore much pleased to see the clever, bold, and
handsome sailor enter his room, and after a hearty welcome, the two
business-friends turned to their books and accounts.
After some short discussion, the Corsican rose from his examination of
the books, and said:
"So you see, Valerius, that Mercurius has again blessed our connection.
My ships have brought you purple and costly woollen stuffs from
Ph[oe]nicia and Spain; and taken your exquisite manufactures of last
year to Byzantium and Alexandria, to Massilia and Antiochia. A
centenarius of gold more profit than last year! And so it will go on
rising from year to year, so long as the brave Goths uphold peace and
justice in the West."
He ceased, as if in expectation.
"So long as they _can_ uphold it!" sighed Valerius. "So long as these
Greeks keep the peace! Who can guarantee that to-night the sea-breeze
may not drive the ships of Belisarius towards these coasts!"
"So you, too, expect war? In confidence: it is more than probable, it
is certain."
"Furius!" cried the Roman, "how do you know that?"
"I come from Africa--from Sicily. I have seen the fleet of the Emperor.
One does not arm against pirates in such a manner. I have spoken to the
captains of Belisarius; they dream night and day of the treasures of
Italy. Sicily is ripe for defection, as soon as the Greeks land."
Valerius grew pale with excitement.
Furius remarked it, and continued.
"For this reason I have come here to warn you. The enemy will land in
this vicinity, and I know--that your daughter is with you."
"Valeria is a Roman."
"Yes, but these enemies are the most ferocious barbarians. For it is
Huns, Massagetae, Scythians, Avari, Sclavonians, and Saracens which this
Emperor of the Romans lets loose upon Italy! Woe to your lovely child
should she fall into their hands."
"That she shall not!" cried Valerius, his hand upon his dagger. "But
you are right--she must go--she must be placed in safety."
"Where is safety in Italy? Soon the billows of the conflict will roll
over Neapolis--over Rome--and will scarcely break against the walls of
Ravenna!"
"Do you think so highly of these Greeks? Yet Greece has never sent
anything to Italy but mimes, pirates, and pickpockets!"
"But Belisarius is the favourite of fortune. At all events, a war will
be kindled, the end of which many of you will not outlive!"
"Of _us_, you say? Will not _you_ fight with us?"
"No, Valerius! You know that pure Corsican blood flows in my veins, in
spite of my adopted Roman name. I am no Roman, no Greek, and no Goth. I
wish the Goths the victory, because they keep order on land and sea,
and my trade flourishes under their sway; but were I to fight openly on
their side, the exchequer of Byzantium would swallow up all that I
possess in ships and goods in the harbours of the East: three-fourths
of my whole fortune. No, I intend so to fortify my island--you know
that half Corsica is mine--that neither of the disputants can molest
me. My island shall be an asylum of peace, while round about land and
water echo with the noise of battle. I shall defend this asylum as a
king defends his crown, or a bridegroom his bride; and therefore"--his
eyes sparkled, and his voice trembled with excitement--"therefore I
wish--now--to speak a word which for years I have carried hidden in my
heart----"
He hesitated.
Valerius saw beforehand what was coming, and saw it with deep regret.
For years he had pleased himself with the thought of entrusting his
daughter's happiness to this powerful merchant, the adopted son of an
old friend, of whose affection to Valeria he had long been aware.
Although he had learned to love Totila, he would far rather have had
his old friend for a son-in-law.
And he knew the ungovernable pride and irritable temper of the
Corsican; he feared, in case of refusal, that the old love and
friendship would be speedily changed to burning hate. Dark stories were
told of the wild rage of this man, and Valerius would gladly have
spared both him and himself the pain of a rejection.
But the other continued:
"I think we are both men who do business in a business-like manner.
And, according to old custom, I speak at once to the father, and not
first to the daughter. Give me your child to wife, Valerius! In part
you know my fortune--only in part--for it is far larger than you think.
I will match her dowry, be it never so splendid, with the double----"
"Furius!" interrupted the father.
"I think I am a man who can make his wife happy. At least, I can
protect her better than any one else in these dangerous times. I will
take her in my ships, should Corsica be threatened, to Asia or to
Africa. On every coast there awaits her, not a house, but a palace. No
queen could envy her. I will cherish, her more dearly--more dearly than
my life!"
He paused in extreme agitation, as if expecting a prompt reply.
Valerius was silent, he sought for an excuse--it was but a moment, but
the bare appearance of hesitation on the father's part revolted the
Corsican. The blood rushed to his handsome face, which, just before
almost soft and mild, suddenly assumed an aspect of ferocity; a vivid
red flush spread over his brown cheeks.
"Furius Ahalla," he said hastily, "is not accustomed to offer a thing
twice. Usually my wares, at the first offer, are snatched at with both
hands. I now offer myself--by God! I am not worse than my purple----
"My friend," began the old man, "we no longer live in ancient times.
The new belief has almost deprived a father of the right to dispose of
his daughter. My _will_ would give her to you and to no other, but her
heart----"
"She loves another!" cried the Corsican, "whom?"
And his hand caught at his dagger, as if he would gladly have killed
his rival on the instant.
There was something of the tiger in this movement, and in the glare of
his rolling eyes.
Valerius felt how deadly would be his hatred, and would not mention the
name.
"Who can it be?" asked Furius, in an under tone. "A Roman? Montanus?
No! Oh, only--only not _he_--say no, old man! not he----" and he caught
Valerius by the sleeve.
"Who? Whom do you mean?"
"He, who landed with me--the Goth! But yes it must be he--every one
loves him--Totila!"
"It is he," said Valerius, and kindly tried to take his friend's hand.
But he released it again in terror; a fearful convulsion shook the iron
frame of the strong Corsican. He stretched forth his hand stiffly, as
if he would strangle the pain which tortured him. Then he tossed back
his head, and, laughing wildly, struck his forehead repeatedly.
Valerius observed this mad fit with horror. At last the arms of the
enraged man slowly dropped, and revealed an ashy-pale face.
"It is over," said Furius in a trembling voice. "It is a curse that
lies upon me. I am never to be happy in a wife. Once before--just
before accomplishment! And now! I know that Valeria's influence and
quiet composure would have brought peace into my wild life--I should
have become different, better. And if this could not have been"--his
eyes again sparkled--"it would have been almost equally sweet to murder
the destroyer of my happiness. Yes, I would have wallowed in his blood,
and torn his bride away from his corpse! And now it is _he_! He, the
only being to whom Ahalla owes gratitude--and what gratitude!----"
He was silent, nodding his head as if lost in recollection.
"Valerius," he then said, suddenly rousing himself, "I would yield to
no man on earth--I could not have borne to give place to another--but
Totila! I will forgive her for not loving me, because she has chosen
Totila. Farewell, Valerius, old friend. I go to sea; to Persia, to
India--I know not whither--ah! everywhere I shall carry with me the
bitter pain of this hour!"
He went quickly out, and immediately afterwards his arrow-swift boat
bore him away from the little harbour of the villa.
Valerius left the room sighing, and went in search of his daughter.
In the atrium he met Totila, who was obliged to take leave at once. He
had only come to try to persuade them to return to Neapolis. For
Belisarius had left the African coast and was cruising near Panormus,
and any day a descent might be effected in Sicily or even Italy; and,
in spite of Totila's insistence, the King had sent no ships. He
himself was shortly going to Sicily to convince himself of the truth.
His friends, therefore, were here totally unprotected, and he begged
Valerius to return forthwith to Neapolis by land.
But it revolted the old soldier to fly before the Greeks; he could not
and would not leave his affairs before three days; and Totila could
scarcely persuade him to accept a small troop of twenty Goths as a poor
protection.
With a heavy heart Totila entered his boat and was taken back to his
guardship. It was almost dark when he arrived on board; a veil of mist
shrouded the nearest objects.
All at once the sound of oars was heard to the west, and a ship,
recognisable by the red light on the tall mast, turned the point of a
small promontory.
Totila listened, and asked his look-out:
"A sail to the left! what ship? what master?"
"It is already signalled from the mast-head," was the reply,
"merchant-ship--Furius Ahalla--lay at anchor here."
"Where bound?"
"For the East--for India!"
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 1: A place for wrestling and other exercises.]
[Footnote 2: The most valued wood--not the modern citron-tree.]
[Footnote 3: Pine-wood.]
[Footnote 4: A Grecian rider's upper garment, worn by the Romans of
that time.]
[Footnote 5: An epocha of the Roman calendar instituted by Constantine
the Great.]
END OF VOL. I.
BILLING AND SONS, PRINTERS, GUILDFORD, SURREY.
_H. L. & Co._