Volume Iii Part 20 (1/2)
But the young guide looked up into the King's s.h.i.+ning countenance, and sang in a soft sweet voice:
”Cunning Cethegus: Tricks will not serve thee!
Teja the terrible Daunts thy defiance.
And brightly arises, Like morning and May-time, Like night from the darkness, The favourite of heaven, The bright, and the beautiful King of the Goths!
To him are wide opened All halls and all hearts; To him, overpowered, Yield Winter and Woe!”
When the King entered the Forum, there fell a dead silence upon the people.
But Cethegus, who had expected this, immediately took advantage of it.
He urged his horse into the crowd and cried:
”What would you, Goth, in this my city?”
Totila cast one flaming look at him, and then turned away.
”With _him_ I speak, for evermore, only with my sword! With him, the threefold liar and murderer! To _you_ I speak, unhappy and befooled inhabitants of Rome! Your sufferings wring my heart. I come to end your misery. I come without arms, for I am safer, trusting to the honour of Romans, than protected by sword and s.h.i.+eld.”
He paused.
Cethegus no more attempted to interrupt him.
”Quirites,” continued Totila, ”you yourselves have truly acknowledged that I might long since have stormed your walls with my hosts. For now you have but stones, and no men to defend them. But if Rome were carried by storm, then Rome would burn; and I confess that I would rather never enter Rome, than enter to find it in ashes. I will not reproach you with the manner in which you have requited the kindness of Theodoric and the Goths. Have you forgotten the time when you coined your gold with the grateful inscription, 'Roma felix'? Truly you are punished enough; more heavily punished by hunger, pestilence, and the yoke of the Byzantines and that demon Cethegus, than by the severest penalty which we could have inflicted. More than eight thousand people--women and children not included--have perished. Your deserted houses fall into ruins; you greedily pluck the gra.s.s which grows in your temples; despair walks your streets with hollow eyes; famished mothers--Roman mothers--have devoured the flesh of their own children.
Until this day, your resistance was heroic, although lamentable. But henceforward it is madness. Your last hope was placed in Belisarius.
Then hear: Belisarius has sailed from Sicily to Byzantium. He has deserted you.”
Cethegus ordered the trumpets to be sounded, in order to drown the groans of the mult.i.tude.
For some time it was all in vain, but at last the brazen tones conquered.
When all was quiet the Prefect cried:
”It is a lie! Do not believe such barefaced lies!”
”Have the Goths, have I, ever lied to you, Romans? But you shall believe your own eyes and ears. Come forward, man, and speak. Do you know him?”
A Byzantine in rich armour was led forward by the Gothic hors.e.m.e.n.
”Konon!”
”The navarchus of Belisarius!”
”We know him!” cried the crowd.
Cethegus turned pale.