Volume Iii Part 7 (1/2)
”We cannot; we must first finish our wors.h.i.+p!”
The clouds pa.s.sed across the moon, and it was again quite dark.
With a curse, Cethegus s.n.a.t.c.hed bow and quiver from the shoulder of the chief of the Huns.
”Come on!” cried Wachis in a low voice, when he had almost reached the opposite sh.o.r.e; ”come quickly, before the moon issues from that narrow strip of cloud!”
”Halt, Wallada!” cried Witichis, as he dismounted in order to lighten the burden, and held fast by the horse's mane. ”Here is a rock. Take care, Rauthgundis.”
Horse, man, and woman were checked for a moment while balancing upon the top of the rock, past which the water rushed and gurgled in a deep whirl.
Suddenly the moon shone out clear and bright. It illuminated the surface of the stream and the group on the rock.
”It is they!” cried Cethegus, who held his bow and arrow ready.
He took a rapid aim, and pulled the string.
Whistling, the long black-feathered arrow flew from the string.
”Rauthgundis!” cried Witichis in terror; for his wife started convulsively and sank forward upon the horse's neck. But she did not utter a groan. ”Rauthgundis, thou art hit?”
”I believe so. Leave me here and save thyself.”
”Never! Let me support thee.”
”For G.o.d's sake, sir, stoop! dive! They take aim again!”
The Huns had finished praying. They rode a short way into the water, fixing their arrows and taking aim.
”Leave me, Witichis. Fly! I will die here.”
”No; I will never leave thee again!”
He lifted her out of the saddle, and tried to hide her on the rock. The group stood in the full light of the moon.
”Yield, Witichis!” cried Cethegus, spurring his horse up to its haunches in the water.
”A curse upon thee, thou traitor!” was the reply of Witichis.
Twelve arrows whizzed at once. The charger of Theodoric leaped wildly forward, and sank for ever into the flood.
But Witichis also was mortally wounded.
”With thee!” sighed Rauthgundis. She held him closely with both arms.
”With thee!”
And, locked in a fast embrace, husband and wife sank into the river.
In bitter grief, Wachis, on the farther sh.o.r.e, called their names. In vain. Three times he called, and then galloped away into the night.