Volume Iii Part 29 (1/2)
Thanks to the King's eloquence, he was able to induce his friend to promise that he would accompany the aged Ca.s.siodorus to Byzantium in a few days. Julius at first shunned the glitter, the noise, and the wickedness of the Emperor's court, until at last Ca.s.siodorus' example and Totila's persuasions overcame his scruples.
”I think,” the King said, ”that more pious works can be accomplished in the world than in the cloister. _This_ emba.s.sy is such a pious work; a work which is to save two nations from the horrors of renewed warfare.”
”Certainly,” said Julius, ”a king and a hero can serve G.o.d as well as a monk. I do not blame your manner of service--leave mine to me. It seems to me that in the time in which we live, when an ancient world is sinking amid much terror, and a new one arises amid wild storms; when all the vices of a degenerated heathenism are mixed with the wildness of a barbarous race; when luxury, brute force, and the l.u.s.ts of the flesh fill East and West, I think it is well done to found a sanctuary apart from the world, where poverty, purity, and humble-mindedness can dwell in peace.”
”But to me,” said Totila, ”it seems that splendour, the happiness of honest love, and cheerful pride, are no sin before the G.o.d of Heaven!
What thinkest thou of our dispute, friend Teja?”
”It has no meaning for me,” answered Teja quietly, ”for your G.o.d is not my G.o.d. But let us not speak of that, for here comes Valeria.”
CHAPTER III.
One evening, the same on which Adalgoth had arrived with the King at Taginal, Gotho, the shepherdess, stood in the sunset light upon the southern declivity of the Iffinger, leaning upon her staff.
Round her gambolled and grazed her flock of sheep and lambs, and gradually gathered close round their mistress, eagerly expecting to be led to the sheepfold.
But they waited and bleated in vain, for the pretty maiden bent over the mossy stones on the edge of the clear mountain brook. Heaped up in her leather ap.r.o.n lay the lovely scented flowers of the mountain: thyme, wild-rose, mint--which grew on the moist edges of the brook--and the dark blue enzian.
Gotho murmured and spoke to herself, to the flowers, and to the running stream, throwing the flowers into the water, sometimes singly, sometimes in little sprays or unfinished wreaths.
”How many,” said the girl, as she tossed her thick yellow braids over her shoulder, ”how many of you have I sent away to greet him! For he has gone to the south, and the water runs there too. But I know not if you give my greeting, for he has never yet come home. But you, as you rise and sink in the dance of the ripples, you beckon me to follow you.
Ah! if I could! or follow the little fish which dart down the stream like dark arrows! Or the swift mountain swallows that skim through the air as free as thought! Or the rosy-winged evening clouds, when the mountain wind drives them southwards! But most surely of all would the heart of the seeker herself find him, could she but leave the mountain, and follow him to the distant and sunny land. But what should I do down there? A shepherdess amongst the warriors or the wise court-ladies! And I shall certainly see him again, as surely as I shall again see the sun, although it sinks behind yonder mountains. It is sure to come again, and yet! all the time between its parting ray and its morning greeting is filled with longing!”
From the house there suddenly sounded a far-reaching tone, a blast upon the twisted ram's horn. Gotho looked up; it had become darker; she could see the red fire upon the hearth glimmer through the open door.
The sheep answered the well-known sound with louder bleatings, stretching their necks in the direction of the house and the stalls.
The brown and s.h.a.ggy sheep-dog sprang upon Gotho, as if to remind her that it was time to go home.
”I will go directly,” she said, smiling, and stroking the dog's head.
”Ah! the sheep are sooner tired of their pasture than the shepherdess of her thoughts! Now, forwards, White Elf, thou art already become a great fat sheep!”
She went down the hill towards the little hollow between two mountain summits, where the house and stalls found protection from the wind and the avalanches. There the last rays of the sun dazzled her no more. The stars were already visible. Gotho looked up at the sky.
”They are so beautiful, because _he_ has looked at them so often!”
A shooting-star fell to the south.
”He calls me! Thither!” cried Gotho, slightly trembling.
She now drove the sheep more quickly forward, and presently shut them into their cot, and entered the large and only chamber of the ground-floor of the dwelling-house.
There she found her grandfather stretched upon the raised stone placed close to the hearth; his feet covered with two large sheep-skins.
He looked paler and older than usual.
”Seat thyself beside me, Gotho,” he said, ”and drink; here is milk mixed with honey. Listen to me. The time is come of which I have often spoken. We must part. I am going home. Thy dear face is indistinct; my tired old eyes can no longer distinguish thy features. And yesterday when I tried to go down to the spring, my knees failed me. Then I felt that the end was near, and I sent the goat-herd over to Teriolis with a message. But thou shalt not be present when his soul flies out of old Iffa's mouth. The death of a man is not lovely to behold--especially death upon the straw-bed. And thou hast never yet seen anything sorrowful. This shadow shall not fall upon thy young life. To-morrow, before c.o.c.kcrow, brave Hunibad will come over from Teriolis to fetch thee--he has promised me to do so. His wounds are not yet healed; he is yet weak; but he says that he cannot remain idle when, as they say, the war will be sure to break out again. He wishes to go to King Totila in Rome. And there too thou must go with an important message. He shall be thy guide and protector. Bind thick soles of beech-rind under thy feet, for the way is long. Brun, the dog, may accompany thee. Take that bag of goat's leather; in it are six gold pieces which belonged to--to Adalgoth's--to your father; they are Adalgoth's--but thou mayst use them--they will last till thou reachest Rome. And take a bundle of scented mountain hay from the meadows of the Iffinger, and lay thy head upon it at night; then thou wilt sleep more soundly. And when thou reachest Rome and the golden palace of the King, and enterest the hall, observe which of the men wears a golden circlet upon his brow, and from whose countenance s.h.i.+nes a light like that of the morning--that will be King Totila. Then bow thy head before him--but not too much--and do not bend thy knee; for thou art a free Goth's free child. Thou must give the King this roll, which I have carefully kept for many summers. It comes from Uncle Wargs, who was buried by the mountain.”