Volume Iii Part 51 (2/2)

For the brave dead's direst curses Rest upon the rocky tomb, Where the Gothic hero-nation Will fulfil their glorious doom.”

”Yes,” said Teja, ”glorious, my Adalgoth! Of that glory no fate and no Na.r.s.es shall deprive us. The awful judgment, which our beloved Totila challenged, has fallen heavily upon himself, his people, and his G.o.d.

No Heavenly Father has, as that n.o.ble man imagined, weighed our destinies in a just balance. We fall by the thousand treacheries of the Italians and the Byzantines, and by the brute superiority of numbers.

But _how_ we fall, unshaken, proud even in our decay, can be decided by no fate, but only by our own worth. And after us? Who after us will rule in this land? Not for long these wily Greeks--and not the native strength of the Italians. Numerous tribes of Germans still exist on the other side of the mountains--and I nominate them our heirs and our avengers.”

And he softly took up the harp which Adalgoth had laid down, and sang in a low voice as he looked down upon the rapidly darkening sea. The stars glittered over his head; and at rare intervals he struck a chord.

”Extinguished is the brightest star Of our Germanic race!

O Dietrich, thou beloved of Bern, Thy s.h.i.+eld is bruised, defaced.

Unblemished truth and courage fail-- The coward wins--the n.o.ble fly; Rascals are lords of all the world-- Up, Goths, and let us die!

”O wicked Rome, O southern gleam, O lovely, heavenly blue!

O rolling blood-stained Tiber-stream-- O Southerns, all untrue!

Still cherishes the North its sons Of courage true and high; Vengeance will roll its thunders soon-- Then, up! and let us die!”

”The melody pleases me,” said Adalgoth; ”but is it already finished?

What is the end?”

”'The end can only be sung in time to the stroke of the sword,” said Teja. ”Soon, methinks, thou wilt also hear this end.” And he rose from his seat. ”Go, my Adalgoth,” he said; ”leave me alone. I have already kept thee far too long from”--and he smiled through all his sadness--”from the loveliest of all d.u.c.h.esses. You have but few of such evening hours to spend together, my poor children! If I could but save your young and budding lives----” He pa.s.sed his hand across his brow. ”Folly!” he then cried; ”you are but a part of the doomed nation--perhaps the loveliest.”

Adalgoth's eyes had filled with tears as the King mentioned his young wife. He now went up to Teja and laid his hand inquiringly upon his shoulder.

”Is there no hope? She is so young!”

”None,” answered Teja; ”for no saving angel will come down from heaven.

We have still a few days before famine commences its inroads. Then I will make a speedy end. The warriors shall sally forth and fall in battle.”

”And the women, the children--the defenceless thousands?”

”I cannot help them. I am no G.o.d. But not a Gothic woman or maiden need fall into slavery under the Byzantines, unless they choose shame instead of a free death. Look there, my Adalgoth--in the dark night the glow of the mountain is fully seen. Seest thou, there, a hundred paces to the right.--Ha! how splendidly the fiery smoke rushes from the gloomy mouth!--When the last guardian of the pa.s.s has fallen--one leap into that abyss--and no insolent Roman hand shall touch our pure women.

Thinking of _them_--more than of us, for we can fall anywhere thinking of the Gothic women, I chose for our last battle-field--Vesuvius!”

And Adalgoth, no longer weeping, but with enthusiasm, threw himself into Teja's arms.

CHAPTER VII.

A few days after Cethegus had taken up his chosen position on the left of Na.r.s.es with his mercenaries, the report came to the camp of the Byzantines that the Goths in the Mausoleum of Hadrian had been overpowered.

So now all Rome was in the hands of the Romans; not a single Goth, and, as Cethegus exultingly thought, not a single Byzantine, ruled in his Rome.

<script>