On the last day of the armistice, Cethegus was again able to appear
upon the walls of the Mausoleum, where his legionaries and Isaurians
greeted him with loud cheers.
His first walk was to the monument of Kallistratos. He laid a wreath of
laurels and roses upon the black marble slab.
While he was superintending the strengthening of the fortifications
from this point, Syphax brought him a letter from Mataswintha.
The contents were laconic enough:
"Put an end to it. I cannot bear to see this misery any longer. The
sight of the interment of forty thousand of my countrymen has broken my
heart. The death-choruses all seem to accuse me. I shall succumb if
this continue. Famine rages fearfully in the camp. The army's last hope
is a large convoy of corn and cattle, which is on the way from South
Gaul. In the next calends it is expected off Portus. Act accordingly;
but make an end."
"Triumph!" said the Prefect. "The siege is over. Hitherto our little
fleet lay idle at Populonium; but now it shall have work enough. This
Queen is the Erinnys of the barbarians."
And he himself went to Belisarius, who received him with noble
generosity.
The same night--the last of the armistice--Johannes marched out of the
Pincian Gate, and wheeled to the left, towards the Flaminian high-road.
Ravenna was his goal.
And swift messengers sped by sea to Populonium, where a small Roman
squadron lay at anchor.
The fight for the city, in spite of the expiration of the armistice,
was scarcely renewed.
About a week after this the King, who was only now able to leave his
bed of pain, took his first walk through the lines of tents,
accompanied by his friends.
Three of the seven camps, formerly crowded with soldiers, were
completely desolated and abandoned; and the other four were but
sparsely populated.
Tired to death, without complaint, but also without hope, the famished
soldiers lay before their tents.
No cheer, no greeting, rejoiced the ears of their brave King upon his
painful way; the warriors scarcely raised their tired eyes at the sound
of his approaching footsteps.
From the interior of the tents sounded the loud groaning of the sick
and dying, who succumbed to wounds, hunger, and pestilence. Scarcely
could healthy men enough be found to occupy the most necessary posts.
The sentries dragged their spears behind them, too weak to carry them
upright or to lay them across their shoulders.
The leaders arrived at the outwork before the Aurelian Gate; in the
trench lay a young archer, chewing the bitter grass.
Hildebad called to him:
"By the hammer, Gunthamund! what is this? Thy bow-string has sprung;
why dost thou not bend another?"
"I cannot, sir. The string broke yesterday as I shot my last shot; and
I and my three comrades have not strength enough to bend another."
Hildebad gave him a drink from his gourd-bottle.
"Didst thou shoot at a Roman?"
"Oh no, sir!" said the man. "A rat was gnawing at that corpse down
there. I happily hit it, and we divided it between us."
"Iffaswinth, where is thine uncle Iffamer?" asked the King.
"Dead, sire. He fell behind you, as he was carrying you away from that
cursed marble tomb."
"And thy father Iffamuth?"
"Dead too. He could no longer bear the poisonous water from the
ditches. Thirst, King! burns more fiercely than hunger; and it will
never, never rain from these leaden skies."
"Are you all from the Athesis valley?"
"Yes, sire; from the Iffinger mountains. Oh! what delicious spring
water there is at home!"
Teja observed another warrior at some distance drinking from his
helmet. His features grew darker and darker.
"Hey, thou, Arulf!" he cried to the warrior; "thou seem'st to suffer
no thirst."
"No; I often drink," said the man.
"What dost thou drink?"
"Blood from the wounds of the newly-fallen. At first it disgusts one
terribly; but in despair one gets used to it."
Witichis passed on with a shudder.
"Send all my wine into the camp, Hildebad; the sentries shall share
it."
"All thy wine? O King! my office of cup-bearer has become very light.
There are but one and a half skins left; and Hildebrand, thy physician,
says that thou must strengthen thyself."
"And who will strengthen _these_, Hildebad? They are reduced to the
state of wild animals!"
"Come back to thy tent," said Totila; "it is not good to be here." And
he put his hand on the King's shoulder.
Arrived at the tent, the friends seated themselves silently round the
beautiful marble table, upon which, in golden dishes, lay mouldy bread,
as hard as stone, and a few pieces of meat.
"It was the last horse in the royal stables," said Hildebad, "except
Boreas."
"Boreas must not be slaughtered. My wife, my child, have sat upon his
back." And Witichis rested his weary head upon both his hands. A sad
pause ensued. "Friends," the King at last began, "this cannot go on.
Our people perish before these walls. After a hard struggle, I have
come to a painful decision--"
"Do not pronounce it yet, O King!" cried Hildebad. "In a few days Earl
Odoswinth, of Cremona, will arrive with the ships, and we shall
luxuriate in good things."
"He is not yet here," said Teja.
"And will not our heavy loss of men be replaced by fresh troops when
Earl Ulithis arrives from Urbinum with the garrisons which the King has
summoned from all the forts of Ravenna, in order to fill our empty
tents?"
"Ulithis also is not yet here," said Teja. "He is said to be still in
Picenum; and if he happily arrive, then the greater will be the want."
"But the Roman city hungers too," said Hildebad, breaking the hard
bread upon the table with his fist. "Let us see who can bear it the
longest!"
"I have often wondered, during these heavy days and sleepless nights,"
the King slowly said, "why--why all this must be. I have ever
conscientiously weighed right and wrong between our enemies and us, and
I can come to no other conclusion but that we have right on our side.
And, truly, we have never failed in strength and courage."
"Thou least of all," said Totila.
"And we have grudged no sacrifice," sighed the King. "And yet if, as we
all say, there is a God in heaven, just and good and almighty, why does
He permit this enormous and undeserved misery? Why must we succumb to
Byzantium?"
"But we must not succumb!" cried Hildebad. "I have never speculated
much, about our Almighty God; but if He permits _that_ to happen, we
ought to storm heaven and overthrow His throne!"
"Do not blaspheme, my brother," said Totila. "And thou, my noble King,
take courage and trust. Yes, a good God reigns above the stars;
therefore the just cause must win at last. Courage, my Witichis; hope
till the end."
But the heart-broken man shook his head.
"I confess that I have been able to find but _one_ way out of this
error; one way to get rid of this terrible doubt of God's justice. It
cannot be that we suffer guiltless. And as our nation's cause is,
without doubt, a just one, there must be hidden guilt in me, your King.
Repeatedly, so say our heathen songs, has a King sacrificed himself for
his people when defeat, pestilence, or scarcity had persecuted the
nation for years. Then the King took upon himself the hidden sin which
seemed to weigh upon his people, and atoned by his death, or by going
sceptreless into exile, an outlawed fugitive. Let me put off the crown
from my unfortunate head. Choose another King, with whom God is not
angry; choose Totila, or----"
"Thou ravest still in the fever of thy wounds," interrupted the old
master-at-arms. "_Thou_ weighed down with guilt--thou, the most
faithful of all? No! I tell you, you children of too young days, who
have lost the old strength of your fathers with your fathers' old
belief, and now know of no comfort for your hearts--I tell you, your
distrustful speeches grieve me!" and his eyes flashed with a strange
radiance as he continued, "All that rejoices or pains us here upon
earth is scarcely worth our notice. Here below there is but one thing
necessary, and that is, to have been a true man, and no perjurer, and
to die on the battle-field, and not upon a straw bed. Then the Walkyri
bear the faithful hero from the bloody field, and carry him on rosy
clouds to Odin's halls, where the Einheriar greet him with full cups.
There he daily rides forth at dawn to the hunting-field or the
fencing-court, and at eve he returns to the banquet and the song in the
golden halls. And lovely virgins caress the youths, and the elders chat
about wise primeval times with the old primeval heroes. And there I
shall meet again all the valiant companions of my youth; bold Winithar
and Waltharis of Aquitania, and Guntharis of Burgundy. There I shall
again behold him for whom I have so longed. Sir Beowulf; and I shall
see the Cheruskians of ancient days, the first who ever beat the
Romans, and of whom the singer of the Saxons still sings. And again I
shall carry the shield and spear of my master, the King with the eagle
eyes. And thus we shall live for all eternity in light and joy, the
earth below and all its woes forgotten."
"A fine poem, old heathen!" said Totila, with a smile. "But if all this
can no longer console us for actual and heart-rending suffering? Speak
thou also, Teja, thou gloomy guest. What is thy opinion of our sorrows?
Thy sword never fails us; why dost thou withhold thy words? What makes
thy comforting harp dumb, thou singer of singers?"
"My words?" answered Teja, rising; "my words and my thoughts would be
perhaps harder to bear than all our suffering. Let me yet be silent, my
sun-bright Totila. Perhaps a day will come when I may answer thee.
Perhaps, also, I may once more play on my harp, if but a string will
vibrate."
And he left the tent; for outside in the camp a confused and
inexplicable noise of calling and questioning voices arose. The friends
looked silently after Teja.
"I guess his thoughts," at last said old Hildebrand, "for I have known
him from his boyhood. He is not as other men. And in the Northland
there are many who think like him, who do not believe in Thor and Odin,
but only in necessity and in their own strength. It is almost too heavy
a burden for a human heart to bear, and it makes no one happy to think
as he does. I wonder that he can sing and play the harp
notwithstanding."
Just then Teja, returning, tore open the curtain of the tent; his face
was still paler than before; his dark eyes flashed; but his voice was
as quiet as ever as he said:
"Break up the camp. King Witichis. Our ships have fallen into the
enemy's hands at Ostia. They have sent the head of Earl Odoswinth into
the camp. And upon the walls of Rome, before the very eyes of our
sentinels, they slaughter the cattle taken from the Goths. Large
reinforcements from Byzantium, under Valerian and Euthalius--Huns,
Slaves and Antians--have been brought into the Tiber by many ships. For
Johannes has marched through Picenum."
"And Earl Ulithis?"
"Has been killed and his troops beaten. Ancona and Ariminum are taken,
and----"
"Is that not yet all?" cried the King.
"No, Witichis. Johannes threatens Ravenna, He is only a few miles
distant from that city. And urgent haste is necessary."