Volume Ii Part 69 (2/2)

”My poor Faesulae!” exclaimed the King, when he learned this last disaster, for he had been the Count of that town, and close to it lay the house where he had lived so happily with Rauthgundis;--”My poor Faesulae! the Huns will run riot in my deserted home!”

When, later, the garrison taken prisoner at Faesulae were led in chains before the eyes of the defenders of Auximum, and reported to the latter the hopelessness of any relief from Ravenna, the famished troops of Wisand compelled him to surrender.

He stipulated for himself a free escort to Ravenna. His men were led prisoners out of Italy.

And, so deeply sunk was the courage and patriotism of the conquered troops, that, led by Earl Sisifrid of Sarsina, they accepted service against their own countrymen under the flag of Belisarius.

The victor had strongly garrisoned Auximum and then led the army back to the camp before Ravenna, where he now again took the command, which had been entrusted to Cethegus during his absence.

It was as if a curse rested upon the head of the Gothic King, who so sorely felt the weight of his crown.

As he could not ascribe the cause of his failure to any weakness or oversight on his own part; as he did not doubt in the justice of the Gothic cause, and as his simple piety could see nothing but the hand of Heaven in all his misfortunes, he conceived the torturing thought that G.o.d was punis.h.i.+ng the Goths for some unforgiven sin committed by himself, a conviction imparted to his conscience by the then dominating doctrine of the Old Testament no less than by many features of the old Germanic legends.

Day and night the King was tortured by this idea, which undermined his strength and resolution. Now he tried to discover his secret guilt; now he reflected how he could at least turn aside the curse from his people.

He would long since have abdicated, but that such an act at such a moment would have been considered cowardly both by himself and others.

So this escape from his misery--the quickest and best--was closed to him.

His soul was bowed to the very earth. He often sat motionless for hours, silent and staring at vacancy; at times shaking his head or sighing deeply.

The daily recurring sight of this resigned suffering, this dumb and hopeless bearing of an oppressive fate, was not, as we have said, without effect on Mataswintha. She thought that lately the eyes of Witichis rested upon her with an expression of sorrow and even of beneficence.

And vague hope--which is so difficult to destroy in a living heart--remorse and compa.s.sion, attracted her more powerfully than ever to the suffering King.

They were now often thrown together by some common errand of mercy.

For some weeks the inhabitants of Ravenna had begun to suffer want, while the besiegers ruled the sea from Ancona, and received plentiful provisions from Calabria and Sicily.

None but rich citizens could afford to pay the high price asked for corn.

The King's kind heart did not hesitate, when he had provided his troops, to share the wealth of his magazines--which, as we have seen, contained sufficient for the wants of all for more than double the time required for the arrival of the Franks--amongst the poor of the city.

He also hoped for the arrival of many s.h.i.+ps laden with corn, which the Goths had collected in the northern districts of the Padus, and which lay in that river, waiting for an opportunity to reach Ravenna.

In order to avoid any misuse of his bounty, or extravagance in the granting of rations, the King himself superintended the distribution; and Mataswintha, who one day met him among the groups of grateful people, placed herself near him upon the marble steps of the Basilica of Saint Apollonaris, and helped him to fill the baskets with bread.

It was a touching sight to see this royal pair standing before the church doors, distributing their gift to the people.

As they were standing thus, Mataswintha remarked among the crowd--for many country-people had fled to the city from all sides--sitting upon the lowest step of the Basilica, a woman in a simple brown mantle, which was half drawn over her head.

This woman did not press forward with the others to demand bread, but leaned against a high sarcophagus, with her head resting upon her hand, and, half concealed by the corner pillar of the Basilica, looked sharply and fixedly at the Queen.

Mataswintha thought that the woman was restrained by fear, pride, or shame, from mixing with the more importunate beggars who pushed and crowded each other upon the steps, and she gave Aspa a basket of bread, telling her to go down and give it to the woman. With care she heaped up the sweet-scented bread with both her hands.

As she looked up, she met the eye of the King, which rested upon her with a more soft and friendly expression than she had ever seen before.

She started slightly, and the blood rushed into her cheeks as she cast down her beautiful eyes.

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