I
ALBOIN and ROSAMUND.
Alboin.
Untroubled by the conscientious scruples of the historian, the poet
throws the glamour of his genius over the events he relates, when
taking for his theme the great deeds of the past, he strives to make
them live in the hearts of his hearers.
The story of Alboin and Rosamund has a strictly historical foundation,
although many poetic liberties have been taken with it. For instance,
it is contrary to fact that the heroes of this and the following tale
were predecessors of Theoderic, for Alboin did not march into Italy at
the head of his Langobards until the year 568 A.D., whereas Theoderic
died in 526, and his Gothic empire was destroyed in 553. Nevertheless
we give the stories in their poetical order, as the natural connection
between them is thus kept up.
The Germanic Gepidæ and Langobards and the Asiatic Avars were
inhabitants of Pannonia (_i.e._ Hungary and the neighbouring provinces)
at the time this story begins. War and hunting were the occupations of
the freemen, while the serfs tended the flocks and herds, and
cultivated the land.
Now it happened that Alboin, son of the Langobardian ruler Audoin,
conquered and slew a son of Thurisind, king of the Gepidæ, in fair
fight. He then took possession of the armour of his vanquished foe, and
bore it in his arms to his father’s hall, just as the warriors of his
race were assembling there to hold high festival. He would have joined
them, but his father forbade him, saying that it had always been held
by the sages of the olden time, that no prince was worthy to sit at the
table of heroes until he had been given a suit of mail by some foreign
king. The young man snatched up his battle axe, but remembering in time
that it was his father who stood before him, turned and left the hall.
He mounted his charger, and set out with his train for the land of the
Gepidæ. He arrived at the royal stronghold when King Thurisind was
feasting with the princes of his people.
Alboin approached the king, and placing himself under protection of the
laws of hospitality, begged that he might be furnished with a suit of
armour forthwith. The Gepidæ were displeased with the boldness of his
manner, but Thurisind received him kindly, and gave him a seat at his
side.
Many beakers were drunk, and the conversation at table grew more and
more unfriendly, for Künemund, the king’s eldest son, was angry and
jealous at a stranger being given his place beside the king. To prevent
further disagreement, Thurisind sent for the minstrels to come and
enliven the company.
They came. They sang the glorious deeds of their forefathers, and
especially those done by Aldarich, who destroyed the power of the Huns.
Lastly, they called upon the young men before them to follow in the
footsteps of their ancestors, careless whether Fortune rewarded their
efforts or not.
“Yes,” said Künemund when the song was ended, “Fortune is blind and
throws her favours at the feet of mean-spirited creatures with white
bands round their knees, that make them look for all the world like
white-legged hacks, and every one knows it takes a deal of beating to
make them go!”
The Langobards always wore the white bands alluded to, so they knew
that the scornful words were directed against them. Alboin’s blood was
up in a moment. He started to his feet and told Künemund to go to the
place where he had fought his brother, and there he would see how
shrewdly the “white-legged hacks” could kick.
A tumult immediately arose, which was with difficulty calmed by the old
king, who then gave Alboin the armour he had craved, and sent him away
with his followers without loss of time, lest worse should come of it,
and the rights of hospitality be broken.
As Alboin rode away he passed Rosamund, Künemund’s fair little
daughter, who was playing at shuttlecock with her maidens, and as he
passed he looked at her long and earnestly.