A Struggle for Rome, v. 2

by Felix Dahn

  CHAPTER XIX.

  Meanwhile, Mataswintha had entered her husband's presence unannounced.

  Witichis had left untouched all the rooms which had been occupied bythe Amelungs--Theodoric, Athalaric, and Amalaswintha--and hadappropriated to his own use the apartments which he had formerly beenaccustomed to inhabit when on duty at court.

  He had never assumed the gold and purple trappings of the Amelungs, andhad banished from his chamber all the pomp of royalty.

  A low camp-bed, upon which lay his helmet, sword, and variousdocuments, a long wooden table, and a few wooden chairs and utensils,formed the simple furniture of the room.

  When Procopius had taken leave, the King had thrown himself into achair, and, supporting his weary head on his hands, leaned his elbowsupon the table. Thus he had not noticed Mataswintha's light step.

  She remained standing near the door, reluctant to advance. She hadnever before sought an interview with her husband. Her heart beat fast,and she could not muster courage to address him.

  At last Witichis rose with a sigh, and, turning, saw the motionlessfigure at the door.

  "Thou here, Queen!" he asked with surprise, as he approached her. "Whatcan have led thee to me?"

  "Duty--compassion--" Mataswintha answered quickly; "otherwise I hadnot---- I have a favour to ask of thee."

  "It is the first," said Witichis.

  "It does not concern me," she added hastily. "I beg for food for somepoor people, who----"

  The King silently stretched out his right hand.

  It was the first time he had ever offered it. She did not dare to claspit, and yet how gladly she would have done so.

  Then the King took her hand himself, and pressed it gently.

  "I thank thee, Mataswintha, and regret my injustice. I never believedthat thou hadst a heart for thy people. I have thought unkindly ofthee."

  "If thy thoughts had been more just from the beginning, perhaps manythings might be better now."

  "Scarcely! Misfortune dogs my heels. Just now--thou hast a right toknow it--my last hopes have been destroyed. The Franks, upon whose aidI depended, have betrayed us. Relief is impossible; the superiority ofthe enemy has become too great, by reason of the rebellion of theItalians. Only one thing remains to me--death!"

  "Let me share it with thee," cried Mataswintha, her eyes sparkling.

  "Thou? No. The granddaughter of Theodoric will be honourably receivedat the Court of Byzantium. It is known that she became my wife againsther will. Thou canst appeal to that fact."

  "Never!" exclaimed Mataswintha with enthusiasm.

  Witichis, without noticing her, went on:

  "But the others! The thousands, the tens of thousands of women andchildren! Belisarius will keep his word. There is only one hope forthem, one single hope! For--all the powers of nature are in leagueagainst me. The Padus has suddenly become so shallow, that two hundredships with grain, which I had expected, could not be brought down theriver, and fell into the hands of the enemy. I have now written forassistance to the King of the Ostrogoths; I have asked him to send afleet; for ours is lost. If the ships can force their way into theharbour, then all who cannot fight may take refuge in them. And, ifthou wilt, thou canst fly to Spain."

  "I will die with thee--with the others!"

  "In a few weeks the Ostrogothic sails may appear off the city. Untilthen my magazines will not be exhausted. That is my only comfort. Butthat reminds me of thy wish. Here is the key to the great door of thegranaries. I carry it with me day and night. Keep it carefully--itguards my last hope. Upon its safety depend the lives of manythousands. These granaries are the only thing that has not failed. Iwonder," he added sadly, "that the earth has not opened, or fire fallenfrom Heaven, to destroy this my work!"

  He took the heavy key from the bosom of his doublet.

  "Guard it well, it is my last treasure, Mataswintha."

  "I thank thee, Witichis--King Witichis," said she, and would have takenthe key, but her hand trembled so much that it fell to the ground.

  "What is the matter?" asked the King as he picked up the key and put itinto her hand. "Thou tremblest? Art thou sick!" he added anxiously.

  "No--it is nothing. But do not look at me so--do not look at me as thoudidst this morning----"

  "Forgive me, Queen," said Witichis, turning away, "my looks shall nomore offend thee. I have had much, too much, to grieve me lately. Andwhen I tried to find out for what hidden guilt I could have deservedall my misfortune--" his voice grew very tender.

  "Then? Oh, speak!" cried Mataswintha; for she could not doubt themeaning of his unspoken thought.

  "I often thought amid all my doubt, that it might be a punishment forthe cruel, cruel wrong I did to a noble creature; a woman whom I havesacrificed to my people----"

  And in the ardour of his speech he involuntarily looked at hislistener.

  Mataswintha's cheeks glowed. She was obliged, in order to keep herselfupright, to grasp the arm of the chair near her.

  "At last," she thought, "at last his heart awakes, and I--how have Iacted towards him! And he regrets----"

  "A woman," continued Witichis, "who has suffered unspeakably on myaccount, more than words can express----"

  "Cease," whispered Mataswintha so softly that he did not hear it.

  "And when I lately saw thee so gentle, so mild, more womanly than everbefore--it touched my heart, and tears came into my eyes!"

  "O Witichis!" breathed Mataswintha.

  "Every tone of thy voice penetrated deeply into my heart, for the sweetsound reminded me so vividly, so sadly----"

  "Of whom?" asked Mataswintha, and she turned pale as death.

  "Of her whom I have sacrificed! Who gave up all for me; of my wifeRauthgundis, the soul of my soul!"

  For how long a time had he never uttered aloud that beloved name! Atthe sound of his own voice, grief and longing overcame him, and sinkinginto a chair, he buried his face in his hands.

  It was well that he did so, for it spared him the sight of the Queen'ssudden start, and the Medusa-like expression which convulsed herfeatures.

  But the sound of a fall made him spring from his seat.

  Mataswintha lay upon the ground. Her left hand grasped the broken armof the chair near which she had fallen, while her right was pressedconvulsively upon the mosaic floor. Her pale face was bent down; hersplendid golden hair, loosed from its bonds, flowed over her shoulders;her mobile nostrils quivered.

  "Queen!" cried Witichis, bending to lift her up, "what ails thee?"

  But before he could touch her, she started up, swift as a serpent, andstood erect.

  "It was only a weakness--which is already over," she panted."Farewell!"

  She tottered to the door, and, closing it behind her, fell senselessinto Aspa's arms.

  During all this time, the mysteriously threatening appearance of theatmosphere had increased.

  The little cloud which Cethegus had remarked the day before, had beenthe forerunner of an immense black wall of vapour which had arisen inthe east during the night, and which, since morning, had hoveredgloomily, as if brooding destruction, over the city and the greaterpart of the horizon.

  In the south, however, the sun shone with an intolerable heat from acloudless sky.

  The Gothic sentries had doffed their helmets and armour; they preferredto expose themselves to the arrows of the enemy rather than suffer theunbearable heat.

  There was not a breath of air. The east wind, which had brought up thewall of cloud, had dropped again.

  The sea was grey and motionless; not a leaf of the poplars in thepalace garden moved.

  The animal world, silent the day before, was uneasy and terrified. Overthe hot sands on the shore swallows, seagulls, and marsh-birdsfluttered hither and thither, without cause or aim, flying low abovethe ground, and often uttering shrill cries.

  In the city the dogs ran whining out of the houses; the horses torethemselves loose from their halters and, snorting impatiently, k
ickedand pranced; cats, asses, and mules uttered lamentable cries; and threeof the dromedaries belonging to Belisarius killed themselves in theirfrantic efforts to get loose.

  Evening was approaching. The sun was about to sink below the horizon.

  In the Forum of Hercules a citizen was sitting upon the marble steps ofhis house. He was a vine-dresser, and, as the dry branch hung at hisdoor indicated, himself sold the produce of his vines. He glanced atthe threatening thundercloud.

  "I wish it would rain," he sighed. "If it does not rain, it will hail,and then all the fruit that has not been trampled by the enemy's horseswill be completely destroyed."

  "Do you call the troops of our Emperor enemies?" whispered his son, aRoman patriot. But he said it very softly, for just then a Gothicpatrol turned the corner of the Forum. "I wish Orcus would devour themall, Greeks and barbarians! The Goths at least are always thirsty. See,there comes that long Hildebadus; he is one of the thirstiest. I shallbe surprised if he has no desire to drink to-day, when the very stonesare cracking with heat!"

  Hildebad had just set the nearest watch. He held his helmet in his lefthand; his lance was carelessly laid across his shoulder.

  He passed the wine-house--to the great astonishment of itsowner--turned into the next street, and soon stood before a loftymassive round tower--it was called the Tower of AEtius.

  A handsome young Goth was walking up and down upon the wall in theshadow of the tower. Long light locks curled upon his shoulders, andthe delicate white and red of his complexion, as well as his mild blueeyes, gave him almost a girlish aspect.

  "Hey! Fridugern," Hildebad called up to him. "Hey! How canst thou bear tostay up there on that gridiron? With shield and breastplate too!_Ouff_!"

  "I have the watch, Hildebad," answered the youth gently.

  "Bother the watch! Dost thou think that Belisarius will attack us inthis blazing heat? I tell you he is glad if he can get air; to-day hewill not thirst for blood. Come with me; I came to fetch thee. Thefat Ravennese in the Forum of Hercules has old wine and youngdaughters--let us put both to our lips."

  The young Goth shook his long ringlets and frowned.

  "I have the watch, and no desire for girls. But thirsty I am,truly--send me a cup of wine up here."

  "Aha! 'tis true, by Freia, Venus, and Maria! Thou hast a bride acrossthe mountains! And thou thinkest that she will find it out and breakher promise if thou lookest too closely into a pair of black Romaneyes! Oh, dear friend, how young thou art! No, no; no malice! It is allright. Thou art nevertheless a very good fellow and wilt get olderby-and-by. I will send thee some old Massikian--then thou canst drinkto Allgunthis all alone."

  Hildebad turned back, and soon disappeared into the wine-house.

  Presently a slave brought a cup of wine to the young Goth, whowhispered, "Here's to thee, Allgunthis!" and he emptied it at onedraught. Then he took up his lance, and slowly paced to and fro on thewall.

  "I can at least think of her," he said; "no duty can prevent that. Whenshall I see her again?"

  He walked on, but presently stopped and stood, lost in thought, in theshadow of the great dark tower, which looked down upon himthreateningly.

  In a short time another troop of Goths passed the tower. In their midstthey led a man blindfolded, and let him out at the Porta Honorii.

  It was Procopius who had in vain waited for three hours, hoping thatthe King would change his mind. It was useless. No messenger came, andthe ambassador left the city ill at ease.

  Another hour passed. It had become darker, but not cooler.

  Suddenly a strong blast of wind rose from the sea. It drove the blackcloud toward the north with great rapidity. It now hung dense and heavyover the city. But the sea and the south-eastern horizon were notthereby rendered clear, for a second and similar wall of cloud closelyfollowed the first.

  The whole sky had now become one black vault.

  Hildebad, drowsy with wine, went towards his night-watch at the PortaHonorii.

  "Still at thy post, Fridugern?" he called to the young Goth in passing."And still no rain. The poor earth, how thirsty it will be! I pity it!Goodnight!"

  It was insufferably sultry in the houses, for the wind blew from thescorching deserts of Africa.

  The people, alarmed by the threatening appearance of the heavens, cameout of doors, walking in companies through the streets, or sitting ingroups in the courtyards and under the colonnades of the churches.

  A crowd of people sat upon the steps of Saint Apollonaris.

  And, though the sun had scarcely set, it was already as black as night.

  Upon her couch in her bed-chamber lay Mataswintha, the Queen, in a kindof heavy stupor, her cheeks pale as death. Her wide open eyes staredinto the darkness. She refused to answer Aspa's anxious questions, andpresently dismissed the weeping slave with a motion of her hand.

  As she lay thinking, these names passed continuously and monotonouslythrough her mind: Witichis--Rauthgundis--Mataswintha!Mataswintha--Rauthgundis--Witichis!

  Thus she lay for a long, long time; and it seemed as if nothing couldever interrupt the unceasing circle of these words.

  Suddenly a red light flashed into the room, and at the same moment apeal of thunder, louder than she had ever before heard, clattered overthe trembling city.

  A scream from her women caught her ear, and she started upright on hercouch.

  Aspa had divested her of her upper garment; she wore only herunder-dress of white silk. Throwing the falling tresses of her splendidhair back over her shoulder, she leaned on her elbow and listened.

  There was an awful stillness.

  Then another flash and another peal.

  A rush of wind tore open the window of feldspath which looked into thecourt.

  Mataswintha stared out at the darkness, which was illuminated at everymoment by a vivid flash of lightning. The thunder rolled incessantly,overpowering even the fearful howling of the wind.

  Mataswintha felt relieved by this strife of the elements. She lookedout eagerly.

  Just then Aspa hurried in with a light. It was a torch, the flame ofwhich was protected from the wind by a glass globe.

  "Queen, thou--but, by all the gods! how dost thou look? Like aLemure--like the Goddess of Revenge!"

  "Would that I were!" said Mataswintha, without taking her eyes from thewindow.

  They were the first words that she had spoken for hours.

  Flash after flash, and peal after peal.

  Aspa closed the window.

  "O Queen! the Christian maids say that the end of the world has come,and that the Son of God will come down upon fiery clouds to judge theliving and the dead. Oh! what a flash! And yet there is not a drop ofrain. I have never seen such a storm. The gods are very angry."

  "Woe to those with whom they are angry! Oh, I envy the gods! They canlove and hate as they like. They can annihilate those who do not adorethem."

  "O mistress! I was in the streets; I have just returned. All the peoplestream into the churches, praying and singing. I pray to Kairu andAstarte. Mistress, dost thou not pray?"

  "I curse. That, too, is a kind of prayer."

  "Oh, what a peal!" screamed the slave, and fell trembling on her knees.The dark blue mantle which she wore slid from her shoulders.

  The thunder and lightning had now become so violent, that Mataswinthasprang from her couch and ran to the window.

  "Mercy, mercy!" prayed the slave. "Have pity upon us, ye great gods!"

  "No, no mercy--a curse upon us miserable mortals! Ha! that wassplendid! Dost thou hear how they scream with fear in the streets?Another, and yet another! Ha! ye gods--if there be a God or gods--Ienvy ye but one thing: the power of your hate and your deadlylightning. Ye hurl it with all the rage and lust of your hearts, andyour enemies vanish. Then you laugh; the thunder is your laughter. Ha!what was that!"

  A flash and a peal of thunder which outdid all that had gone before.

  Aspa started from her knees.

  "What is that great buildi
ng, Aspa? That dark mass opposite? Thelightning must have struck it. Is it on fire?"

  "No, thanks to the gods! The lightning only lit it up. It is thegranaries of the King."

  "Ha! has your lightning failed?" cried the Queen. "But mortals, too,can use the lightning of revenge." And she left the window. The roombecame suddenly dark.

  "Queen--mistress--where art thou? Whither hast thou gone?" cried Aspa.And she felt along the walls.

  But the room was empty, and Aspa called her mistress in vain.

  Below in the streets a procession wound its way to the Basilica ofSaint Apollonaris.

  Romans and Goths; children and old people; very many women. Boys withtorches walked first; behind came priests with crucifix and banners.

  Through the growling of the thunder and the roaring of the wind soundedthe ancient and solemn chorus:

  "Dulce mihi cruciari, Parva vis doloris est; Malo mori quam f[oe]dari; Major vis amoris est."

  And the choir answered:

  "Parce, judex, contristatis Parce pecatoribus, Qui descendis perflammatis Ultor jam in nubibus."

  And the procession disappeared into the church.

  The overseers of the corn-magazines had also joined the crowd ofworshippers.

  Upon the steps of the Basilica, exactly opposite the door of themagazines, sat the woman in the brown mantle, calm and fearless amidthe uproar of the elements; her hands not folded, but resting quietlyon her lap.

  The man in the steel cap stood near her.

  A Gothic woman, who was just hurrying into the church, recognised herby the light of a flash of lightning.

  "Thou here again, countrywoman? Without shelter? I have offered thee myhouse, often enough. Thou appearest strange here in Ravenna?"

  "I am so; but still I have a lodging."

  "Come into the church and pray with us."

  "I pray here."

  "But thou neither singest nor speakest."

  "Yet still God hears me."

  "Pray for the city. They fear that the end of the world is at hand."

  "I am not afraid."

  "Pray for our good King, who daily gives us bread."

  "I do pray for him."

  Just then two Gothic patrols came clattering round the corner, and metopposite the Basilica.

  "Aye, thunder till the skies crack!" scolded the leader of one of thebands; "but do not hinder me in my duty. Halt! Wisand, is it thou?Where is the King? In the church also?"

  "No, Hildebad; upon the walls."

  "That is right; that is his place. Forwards! Long live the King!"

  Their steps died away.

  A Roman tutor, with some of his pupils, passed by.

  "But, magister," said the youngest boy, "I thought you were going tothe church? Why do you take us out in this storm?"

  "I only spoke of church to get you out of the house. Church! I tellyou, the fewer roofs and walls about one the better. I am going to takeyou out into the great meadow in the suburbs. I wish it would rain. IfVesuvius were near, as it is in my native place, I should think thatRavenna was about to become a second Herculaneum. I know such anatmosphere as we have to-day--it is dangerous."

  And they went on.

  "Wilt thou not come with me, mistress?" the man in the steel cap askedthe Gothic woman. "I must try to find Dromon, else we shall get nolodging tonight. I cannot leave thee alone in the dark. Thou hast nolight with thee."

  "Dost thou not see that the lightning never ceases? Go; I will comeafterwards. I have still something to think of--and to pray for."

  And the woman remained alone.

  She pressed both hands against her bosom and looked up at the blacksky; her lips moved slightly.

  Just then it seemed to her as if, in the high outer galleries,passages, and upper rooms of the mighty wooden edifice which towered ina dark mass opposite, a light came and went, wandering up and down. Shethought it must have been a deception caused by the lightning, for anyopen light would have been extinguished by the wind. But no; it reallywas a light, for its appearance and disappearance alternated at regularintervals, as if the person carrying it were hurrying along thegalleries and passing behind the pillars and supports.

  The woman attentively watched the changing light and shadow---- Butsuddenly--oh, horror!--she started up.

  It seemed to her as if the marble step upon which she was sitting hadbeen some sleeping animal, which, suddenly awaking, moved slightly,then rose--and turned itself--violently--from left to right.

  Thunder, lightning, and wind ceased all at once.

  There! from the granaries sounded a shrill scream. The light flamed upbrightly, and then disappeared.

  But the woman in the street also uttered a low cry of fear, for now shecould no longer doubt--the earth quaked under her.

  A slight movement; then two, three strong shocks, as if the ground hadheaved from left to right like a wave.

  Screams of fear rose from the city.

  The people rushed out of the doors of the Basilica.

  Another shock!

  The woman kept her feet with difficulty.

  And, from the farther side of the city, sounded a dull and distantcrash, as if of heavy falling masses.

  A fearful earthquake had shaken all Ravenna.