Volume Ii Part 38 (1/2)
”I protest against this court-martial!” he cried, ”Your laws do not concern me. I am a Roman--no Goth! My father died before my birth; my mother was a Roman, the n.o.ble Cloelia. I have never felt as if this barbarous old man was my kinsman. I despised his severity as I did his love. He forced his name upon me, the child, and took me away from my mother. But I ran away from him as soon as I could. I have always called myself Flavius Cloelius, never Hildebrand. My friends were Romans; Roman was my every thought; Roman my life! All my friends joined Belisarius and Cethegus; could I remain behind? Kill me--you can and you will! But confess that it is a murder, and not an act of justice! You judge no Goth; you murder a conquered Roman, for Roman is my soul!”
The crowd had listened to his defence silently and with mixed feelings.
But the old man rose furiously from his seat; his eyes flashed fire; his hands trembled with rage.
”Miserable boy,” he cried, ”thou hast confessed that thou art the son of a Goth! Then art thou a Goth thyself; and if thy heart is Roman, thou deservest death for that alone. Soldiers, away with him to the gallows!”
Once more the prisoner advanced to the foot of the judgment-seat.
”Then be accursed,” he cried, ”you rude and savage people! May your nation be accursed! And, most of all, thou, old man with the wolf's heart! Do not think that your savagery and cruelty will do you any service! You shall be wiped away from the surface of this lovely land, and not a trace of you shall be left behind!”
At a sign from Hildebrand, the ban-officers again threw the cover over the prisoner's head, and led him away to a hill upon which stood a st.u.r.dy yew-tree, deprived of its boughs and leaves.
At this moment the eyes of the crowd were diverted towards the camp, whence the sound of horses' hoofs were heard. Soon a troop of riders with the royal banner was seen approaching, Witichis and Hildebad at their head.
”Stop!” cried the King from a distance. ”Spare the grandchild of Hildebrand! Pardon, pardon!”
But the old man pointed to the hill.
”Too late, King,” he cried; ”it is all over with the traitor. So may all perish who forget their nation! The kingdom comes first. King Witichis, and afterwards wife and child and grandchild!”
This act of Hildebrand made a great impression upon the army, and a still greater one upon the King. He felt the weight which was given to any demand of the old man by his sacrifice. And with the conviction that resistance had now become much more difficult, he returned to his tent.
Hildebrand did not fail to take advantage of the King's humour.
In the evening he entered the royal tent with Teja.
The husband and wife were sitting silent, hand in hand, on the camp bed; upon a table before them stood the black urn; near it lay a small golden locket, something like an amulet, appended to a blue ribbon; a bronze lamp shed a faint light.
As Hildebrand gave his hand to the King, the latter looked into his face, and saw at one glance that he had entered the tent with the fixed resolve to carry out his intentions at whatever cost.
All present seemed silently moved by the impending conflict of feeling.
”Mistress Rauthgundis,” began the old man, ”I have to speak of sad things with the King. It will hurt thee to hear them!”
Rauthgundis rose, but not to go. Deep pain and earnest love for her husband gave to her fair and regular features a n.o.ble and elevated expression.
Without removing her right hand from that of her husband, she laid her left gently upon his shoulder.
”Speak freely, Hildebrand. I am his wife, and demand the half of these sad words!”
”Mistress,” the old man repeated.
”Let her remain,” said the King. ”Dost thou fear to tell thy thoughts before her face?”
”Fear? no! And though I were forced to tell a G.o.d that the people of the Goths was dearer to me than he, I should do it without fear. Know then----”
”What! Thou wilt? Spare her, spare her!” cried Witichis, throwing his arms around his wife.
But Rauthgundis looked at him quietly and said: