CHAPTER 8.
THE GOTHS.
It was no false rumour that had driven the populace of the suburbs tofly to the security of the city walls. It was no ill-founded cry ofterror that struck the ear of Ulpius, as he stood at Numerian's window.The name of Rome had really lost its pristine terrors; the walls ofRome, those walls which had morally guarded the Empire by their renown,as they had actually guarded its capital by their strength, weredeprived at length of their ancient inviolability. An army ofbarbarians had indeed penetrated for conquest and for vengeance to theCity of the World! The achievement which the invasions of six hundredyears had hitherto attempted in vain, was now accomplished, andaccomplished by the men whose forefathers had once fled like huntedbeasts to their native fastnesses, before the legions of theCaesars--'The Goths were at the gates of Rome!'
And now, as his warriors encamped around him, as he saw the arrayedhosts whom his summons had gathered together, and his energy led on,threatening at their doors the corrupt senate who had deceived, and theboastful populace who had despised him, what emotions stirred withinthe heart of Alaric! As the words of martial command fell from hislips, and his eyes watched the movements of the multitudes around him,what exalted aspirations, what daring resolves, grew and strengthenedin the mind of the man who was the pioneer of that mighty revolution,which swept from one quarter of the world the sway, the civilisation,the very life and spirit of centuries of ancient rule! High thoughtsgathered fast in his mind; a daring ambition expanded within him--theambition, not of the barbarian plunderer, but of the avenger who hadcome to punish; not of the warrior who combated for combat's sake, butof the hero who was vowed to conquer and to sway. From the far-distantdays when Odin was driven from his territories by the romans, to thenight polluted by the massacre of the hostages in Aquileia, the hour ofjust and terrible retribution for Gothic wrongs had been delayedthrough the weary lapse of years, and the warning convulsion of bitterstrifes, to approach at last under him. He looked on the toweringwalls before him, the only invader since Hannibal by whom they had beenbeheld; and he felt as he looked, that his new aspirations did notdeceive him, that his dreams of dominion were brightening into proudreality, that his destiny was gloriously linked with the overthrow ofImperial Rome!
But even in the moment of approaching triumph, the leader of the Gothswas still wily in purpose and moderate in action. His impatientwarriors waited but the word to commence the assault, to pillage thecity, and to slaughter the inhabitants; but he withheld it. Scarcelyhad the army halted before the gates of Rome, when the news waspromulgated among their ranks, that Alaric, for purposes of his own,had determined to reduce the city by a blockade.
The numbers of his forces, increased during his march by the accessionof thirty thousand auxiliaries, were now divided into battalions,varying in strength according to the service that was required of them.These divisions stretched round the city walls, and though occupyingseparate posts, and devoted to separate duties, were so arranged as tobe capable of uniting at a signal in any numbers, on any given point.Each body of men was commanded by a tried and veteran warrior, in whosefidelity Alaric could place the most implicit trust, and to whom hecommitted the duty of enforcing the strictest military discipline thathad ever prevailed among the Gothic ranks. Before each of the twelveprincipal gates a separate encampment was raised. Multitudes watchedthe navigation of the Tiber in every possible direction, with untiringvigilance; and not one of the ordinary inlets to Rome, howeverapparently unimportant, was overlooked. By these means, every mode ofcommunication between the beleaguered city and the wide and fertiletracts of land around it, was effectually prevented. When it isremembered that this elaborate plan of blockade was enforced against aplace containing, at the lowest possible computation, twelve hundredthousand inhabitants, destitute of magazines for food within its walls,dependent for supplies on its regular contributions from the countrywithout, governed by an irresolute senate, and defended by an enervatedarmy, the horrors that now impended over the besieged Romans are aseasily imagined as described.
Among the ranks of the army that now surrounded the doomed city, thedivision appointed to guard the Pincian Gate will be found, at thisjuncture, most worthy of the reader's attention: for one of thewarriors appointed to its subordinate command was the young chieftainHermanric, who had been accompanied by Goisvintha through all the toilsand dangers of the march, since the time when we left him at theItalian Alps.
The watch had been set, the tents had been pitched, the defences hadbeen raised on the portion of ground selected to occupy every possibleapproach to the Pincian Gate, as Hermanric retired to await byGoisvintha's side, whatever further commands he might yet be entrustedwith, by his superiors in the Gothic camp. The spot occupied by theyoung warrior's simple tent was on a slight eminence, apart from thepositions chosen by his comrades, eastward of the city gate, andoverlooking at some distance the deserted gardens of the suburbs, andthe stately palaces of the Pincian Hill. Behind his temporary dwellingwas the open country, reduced to a fertile solitude by the flight ofits terrified inhabitants; and at each side lay one unvarying prospectof military strength and preparation, stretching out its animatedconfusion of soldiers, tents, and engines of warfare, as far as thesight could reach. It was now evening. The walls of Rome, enshroudedin a rising mist, showed dim and majestic to the eyes of the Goths.The noises in the beleaguered city softened and deepened, seeming to bemuffled in the growing darkness of the autumn night, and becoming lessand less audible as the vigilant besiegers listened to them from theirrespective posts. One by one, lights broke wildly forth at irregulardistances, in the Gothic camp. Harshly and fitfully the shrill call ofthe signal trumpets rang from rank to rank; and through the dim thickair rose, in the intervals of the more important noises, the clash ofheavy hammers and the shout of martial command. Wherever thepreparations for the blockade were still incomplete, neither theapproach of night nor the pretext of weariness were suffered for aninstant to hinder their continued progress. Alaric's indomitable willconquered every obstacle of nature, and every deficiency of man.Darkness had no obscurity that forced him to repose, and lassitude noeloquence that lured him to delay.
In no part of the army had the commands of the Gothic king been soquickly and intelligently executed, as in that appointed to watch thePincian Gate. The interview of Hermanric and Goisvintha in the youngchieftain's tent, was, consequently, uninterrupted for a considerablespace of time by any fresh mandate from the head-quarters of the camp.
In outward appearance, both the brother and sister had undergone achange remarkable enough to be visible, even by the uncertain light ofthe torch which now shone on them as they stood together at the door ofthe tent. The features of Goisvintha--which at the period when wefirst beheld her on the shores of the mountain lake, retained, in spiteof her poignant sufferings, much of the lofty and imposing beauty thathad been their natural characteristic in her happier days--nowpreserved not the slightest traces of their former attractions. Itsfreshness had withered from her complexion, its fulness had departedfrom her form. Her eyes had contracted an unvarying sinister expressionof malignant despair, and her manner had become sullen, repulsive, anddistrustful. This alteration in her outward aspect, was but the resultof a more perilous change in the disposition of her heart. The deathof her last child at the very moment when her flight had successfullydirected her to the protection of her people, had affected her morefatally than all the losses she had previously sustained. Thedifficulties and dangers that she had encountered in saving heroffspring from the massacre; the dismal certainty that the child wasthe only one, out of all the former objects of her affection, left toher to love; the wild sense of triumph that she experienced inremembering, that in this single instance her solitary efforts hadthwarted the savage treachery of the Court of Rome, had inspired herwith feelings of devotion towards the last of her household whichalmost bordered on insanity. And, now that her beloved charge, herinnocent victim, her future warrior, had, afte
r all her struggles forhis preservation, pined and died; now that she was childless indeed;now that Roman cruelty had won its end in spite of all her patience,all her courage, all her endurance; every noble feeling within hersunk, annihilated at the shock. Her sorrow took the fatal form whichirretrievable destroys, in women, all the softer and betteremotions;--it changed to the despair that asks no sympathy, to thegrief that holds no communion with tears.
Less elevated in intellect and less susceptible in disposition, thechange to sullenness of expression and abruptness of manner now visiblein Hermanric, resulted rather from his constant contemplation ofGoisvintha's gloomy despair, than from any actual revolution in his owncharacter. In truth, however many might be the points of outwardresemblance now discernible between the brother and sister, thedifference in degree of their moral positions, implied of itself thedifference in degree of the inward sorrow of each. Whatever the trialsand afflictions that might assail him, Hermanric possessed thehealthful elasticity of youth and the martial occupations of manhood tosupport them. Goisvintha could repose on neither. With no employmentbut bitter remembrance to engage her thoughts, with no kindlyaspiration, no soothing hope to fill her heart, she was abandonedirrevocably to the influence of unpartaken sorrow and vindictivedespair.
Both the woman and the warrior stood together in silence for some time.At length, without taking his eyes from the dusky, irregular massbefore him, which was all that night now left visible of the ill-fatedcity, Hermanric addressed Goisvintha thus:--
'Have you no words of triumph, as you look on the ramparts that yourpeople have fought for generations to behold at their mercy, as we nowbehold them? Can a woman of the Goths be silent when she stands beforethe city of Rome?'
'I came hither to behold Rome pillaged, and Romans slaughtered; what isRome blockaded to me?' replied Goisvintha fiercely. 'The treasureswithin that city will buy its safety from our King, as soon as thetremblers on the ramparts gain heart enough to penetrate a Gothic camp.Where is the vengeance that you promised me among those distantpalaces? Do I behold you carrying that destruction through thedwellings of Rome, which the soldiers of yonder city carried throughthe dwellings of the Goths? Is it for plunder or for glory that thearmy is here? I thought, in my woman's delusion, that it was forrevenge!'
'Dishonour will avenge you--Famine will avenge you--Pestilence willavenge you!'
'They will avenge my nation; they will not avenge me. I have seen theblood of Gothic women spilt around me--I have looked on my children'scorpses bleeding at my feet! Will a famine that I cannot see, and apestilence that I cannot watch, give me vengeance for this? Look!Here is the helmet-crest of my husband and your brother--thehelmet-crest that was flung to me as a witness that the Romans hadslain him! Since the massacre of Aquileia it has never quitted mybosom. I have sworn that the blood which stains and darkens it, shallbe washed off in the blood of the people of Rome. Though I shouldperish under those accursed walls; though you in your soulless patienceshould refuse me protection and aid; I, widowed, weakened, forsaken asI am, will hold to the fulfilment of my oath!'
As she ceased she folded the crest in her mantle, and turned abruptlyfrom Hermanric in bitter and undissembled scorn. All the attributes ofher sex, in thought, expression, and manner, seemed to have desertedher. The very tones she spoke in were harsh and unwomanly.
Every word she had uttered, every action she had displayed, had sunkinto the inmost heart, had stirred the fiercest passions of the youngwarrior whom she addressed. The first national sentiment discoverablein the day-spring of the ages of Gothic history, is the love of war;but the second is the reverence of woman. This latterfeeling--especially remarkable among so fierce and unsusceptible apeople as the ancient Scandinavians--was entirely unconnected withthose strong attaching ties, which are the natural consequence of thewarm temperaments of more southern nations; for love was numbered withthe base inferior passions, in the frigid and hardy composition of thewarrior of the north. It was the offspring of reasoning andobservation, not of instinctive sentiment and momentary impulse. Inthe wild, poetical code of the old Gothic superstition was one axiom,closely and strangely approximating to an important theory in theChristian scheme--the watchfulness of an omnipotent Creator over afinite creature. Every action of the body, every impulse of the mind,was the immediate result, in the system of worship among the Goths ofthe direct, though invisible interference of the divinities theyadored. When, therefore, they observed that women were more submittedin body to the mysterious laws of nature and temperament, and moreswayed in mind by the native and universal instincts of humanity thanthemselves, they inferred as an inevitable conclusion, that the femalesex was more incessantly regarded, and more constantly and remarkablyinfluenced by the gods of their worship, than the male. Acting underthis persuasion, they committed the study of medicine, theinterpretation of dreams, and in many instances, the mysteries ofcommunication with the invisible world, to the care of their women.The gentler sex became their counsellors in difficulty, and theirphysicians in sickness--their companions rather than theirmistresses,--the objects of their veneration rather than the purveyorsof their pleasures. Although in after years, the national migrationsof the Goths changed the national temperament, although their ancientmythology was exchanged for the worship of Christ, this prevailingsentiment of their earliest existence as a people never entirelydeserted them; but, with different modifications and in differentforms, maintained much of its old supremacy through all changes ofmanners and varieties of customs, descending finally to their posterityamong the present nations of Europe, in the shape of that establishedcode of universal courtesy to women, which is admitted to be one greatdistinguishing mark between the social systems of the inhabitants ofcivilised and uncivilised lands.
This powerful and remarkable ascendancy of the woman over the man,among the Goths, could hardly be more strikingly displayed than in theinstance of Hermanric. It appeared, not only in the deterioratingeffect of the constant companionship of Goisvintha on his naturallymanly character, but also in the strong influence over his mind of thelast words of fury and disdain that she had spoken. His eyes gleamedwith anger, his cheeks flushed with shame, as he listened to thosepassages in her wrathful remonstrance which reflected most bitterly onhimself. She had scarcely ceased, and turned to retire into the tent,when he arrested her progress, and replied, in heightened and accusingtones:--
'You wrong me by your words! When I saw you among the Alps, did Irefuse you protection? When the child was wounded, did I leave him tosuffer unaided? When he died, did I forsake him to rot upon the earth,or abandon to his mother the digging of his grave? When we approachedAquileia, and marched past Ravenna, did I forget that the sword hung atmy shoulder? Was it at my will that it remained sheathed, or that Ientered not the gates of the Roman towns, but passed by them in haste?Was it not the command of the king that withheld me? and could I, hiswarrior, disobey? I swear it to you, the vengeance that I promised, Iyearn to perform,--but is it for me to alter the counsels of Alaric?Can I alone assault the city which it is his command that we shouldblockade? What would you have of me?'
'I would have you remember,' retorted Goisvintha, indignantly, 'thatRomans slew your brother, and made me childless! I would have youremember that a public warfare of years on years, is powerless to stayone hour's craving of private vengeance! I would have you lesssubmitted to your general's wisdom, and more devoted to your ownwrongs! I would have you--like me--thirst for the blood of the firstinhabitant of yonder den of traitors, who--whether for peace or forwar--passes the precincts of its sheltering walls!'
She paused abruptly for an answer, but Hermanric uttered not a word.The courageous heart of the young chieftain recoiled at the deliberateact of assassination, pressed upon him in Goisvintha's veiled yetexpressive speech. To act with his comrades in taking the city byassault, to outdo in the heat of battle the worst horrors of themassacre of Aquileia, would have been achievements in harmony with hiswild disposition and war
like education; but, to submit himself toGoisvintha's projects, was a sacrifice, that the very peculiarities ofhis martial character made repugnant to his thoughts. Emotions such asthese he would have communicated to his companion, as they passedthrough his mind; but there was something in the fearful and ominouschange that had occurred in her disposition since he had met her amongthe Alps,--in her frantic, unnatural craving for bloodshed and revenge,that gave her a mysterious and powerful influence over his thoughts,his words, and even his actions. He hesitated and was silent.
'Have I not been patient?' continued Goisvintha, lowering her voice totones of earnest, agitated entreaty, which jarred upon Hermanric's ear,as he thought who was the petitioner, and what would be the object ofthe petition,--' Have I not been patient throughout the weary journeyfrom the Alps? Have I not waited for the hour of retribution, evenbefore the defenceless cities that we passed on the march? Have I notat your instigation governed my yearning for vengeance, until the daythat should see you mounting those walls with the warriors of theGoths, to scourge with fire and sword the haughty traitors of Rome?Has that day come? Is it by this blockade that the requital youpromised me over the corpse of my murdered child, is to be performed?Remember the perils I dared, to preserve the life of that last one ofmy household,--and will you risk nothing to avenge his death? Hissepulchre is untended and solitary. Far from the dwellings of hispeople, lost in the dawn of his beauty, slaughtered in the beginning ofhis strength, lies the offspring of your brother's blood. And therest--the two children, who were yet infants; the father, who was bravein battle and wise in council--where are they? Their bones whiten onthe shelterless plain, or rot unburied by the ocean shore! Think--hadthey lived--how happily your days would have passed with them in thetime of peace! how gladly your brother would have gone forth with youto the chase! how joyfully his boys would have nestled at your knees,to gather from your lips the first lessons that should form them forthe warrior's life! Think of such enjoyments as these, and then thinkthat Roman swords have deprived you of them all!'
Her voice trembled, she ceased for a moment, and looked mournfully upinto Hermanric's averted face. Every feature in the young chieftain'scountenance expressed the tumult that her words had aroused within him.He attempted to reply, but his voice was powerless in that tryingmoment. His head drooped upon his heaving breast, and he sighedheavily as, without speaking, he grasped Goisvintha by the hand. Theobject she had pleaded for was nearly attained;--he was fast sinkingbeneath the tempter's well-spread toils!
'Are you silent still?' she gloomily resumed. 'Do you wonder at thislonging for vengeance, at this craving for Roman blood? I tell youthat my desire has arisen within me, at promptings from the voices ofan unknown world. They urge me to seek requital on the nation who havewidowed and bereaved me--yonder, in their vaunted city, from theirpampered citizens, among their cherished homes--in the spot where theirshameful counsels take root, and whence their ruthless treacheriesderive their bloody source! In the book that our teachers worship, Ihave heard it read, that "the voice of blood crieth from the ground!"This is the voice--Hermanric, this is the voice that I have heard! Ihave dreamed that I walked on a shore of corpses, by a sea of blood--Ihave seen, arising from that sea, my husband's and my children'sbodies, gashed throughout with Roman wounds! They have called to methrough the vapour of carnage that was around them;--'Are we yetunavenged? Is the sword of Hermanric yet sheathed?' Night after nighthave I seen this vision and heard those voice, and hoped for no respiteuntil the day that saw the army encamped beneath the walls of Rome, andraising the scaling ladders for the assault! And now, after all myendurance, how has that day arrived? Accursed be the lust of treasure!It is more to the warriors, and to you, than the justice of revenge!'
'Listen! listen!' cried Hermanric entreatingly.
'I listen no longer!' interrupted Goisvintha. 'The tongue of my peopleis as a strange language in my ears; for it talks but of plunder and ofpeace, of obedience, of patience, and of hope! I listen no longer; forthe kindred are gone that I loved to listen to--they are all slain bythe Romans but you--and you I renounce!'
Deprived of all power of consideration by the violence of the emotionsawakened in his heart by Goisvintha's wild revelations of the evilpassion that consumed her, the young Goth, shuddering throughout hiswhole frame, and still averting his face, murmured in hoarse, unsteadyaccents: 'Ask of me what you will. I have no words to deny, no powerto rebuke you--ask of me what you will!'
'Promise me,' cried Goisvintha, seizing the hand of Hermanric, andgazing with a look of fierce triumph on his disordered countenance,'that this blockade of the city shall not hinder my vengeance! Promiseme that the first victim of our righteous revenge, shall be the firstone that appears before you--whether in war or peace--of theinhabitants of Rome!'
'I promise,' cried the Goth. And those two words sealed the destiny ofhis future life.
During the silence that now ensued between Goisvintha and Hermanric,and while each stood absorbed in deep meditation, the dark prospectspread around them began to brighten slowly under a soft, clear light.The moon, whose dull broad disk had risen among the evening mistsarrayed in gloomy red, had now topped the highest of the exhalations ofearth, and beamed in the wide heaven, adorned once more in her pale,accustomed hue. Gradually, yet perceptibly, the vapour rolled,--layerby layer,--from the lofty summits of the palaces of Rome, and the highplaces of the mighty city began to dawn, as it were, in the soft,peaceful, mysterious light; while the lower divisions of the walls, thedesolate suburbs, and parts of the Gothic camp, lay still plunged inthe dusky obscurity of the mist, in grand and gloomy contrast to theprospect of glowing brightness, that almost appeared to hover aboutthem from above and around. Patches of ground behind the tent ofHermanric, began to grow partially visible in raised and openpositions; and the song of the nightingale was now faintly audible atintervals, among the solitary and distant trees. In whatever directionit was observed, the aspect of nature gave promise of the cloudless,tranquil night, of the autumnal climate of ancient Italy.
Hermanric was the first to return to the contemplation of the outwardworld. Perceiving that the torch which still burnt by the side of histent, had become useless, now that the moon had arisen and dispelledthe mists, he advanced and extinguished it; pausing afterwards to lookforth over the plains, as they brightened slowly before him. He hadbeen thus occupied but a short time, when he thought he discerned ahuman figure moving slowly over a spot of partially lightened and hillyground, at a short distance from him. It was impossible that thiswandering form could be one of his own people;--they were all collectedat their respective posts, and his tent he knew was on the outermostboundary of the encampment before the Pincian Gate.
He looked again. The figure still advanced, but at too great adistance to allow him a chance of discovering, in the uncertain lightaround him, either its nation, its sex, or its age. His heart misgavehim as he remembered his promise to Goisvintha, and contemplated thepossibility that it was some miserable slave, abandoned by thefugitives who had quitted the suburbs in the morning, who nowapproached as a last resource, to ask mercy and protection from hisenemies in the camp. He turned towards Goisvintha as the idea crossedhis mind, and observed that she was still occupied in meditation.Assured by the sight, that she had not yet observed the fugitivefigure, he again directed his attention--with an excess of anxietywhich he could hardly account for--in the direction where he had firstbeheld it, but it was no more to be seen. It had either retired toconcealment, or was now still advancing towards his tent through aclump of trees that clothed the descent of the hill.
Silently and patiently he continued to look forth over the landscape;and still no living thing was to be seen. At length, just as he beganto doubt whether his senses had not deceived him, the fugitive figuresuddenly appeared from the trees, hurried with wavering gait over thepatch of low, damp ground that still separated it from the young Goth,gained his tent, and then with a feeble cry fell helplessly
upon theearth at his feet.
That cry, faint as it was, attracted Goisvintha's attention. Sheturned in an instant, thrust Hermanric aside, and raised the strangerin her arms. The light, slender form, the fair hand and arm hangingmotionless towards the ground, the long locks of deep black hair, heavywith the moisture of the night atmosphere, betrayed the wanderer's sexand age in an instant. The solitary fugitive was a young girl.
Signing to Hermanric to kindle the extinguished torch at a neighbouringwatch-fire, Goisvintha carried the still insensible girl into the tent.As the Goth silently proceeded to obey her, a vague, horrid suspicion,that he shrunk from embodying, passed across his mind. His hand shookso that he could hardly light the torch, and bold and vigorous as hewas, his limbs trembled beneath him as he slowly returned to the tent.
When he had gained the interior of his temporary abode, the light ofhis torch illuminated a strange and impressive scene.
Goisvintha was seated on a rude oaken chest, supporting on her kneesthe form of the young girl, and gazing with an expression of the mostintense and enthralling interest upon her pale, wasted countenance.The tattered robe that had hitherto enveloped the fugitive had fallenback, and disclosed the white dress, which was the only other garmentshe wore. Her face, throat, and arms, had been turned, by exposure tothe cold, to the pure whiteness of marble. Her eyes were closed, andher small, delicate features were locked in a rigid repose. But forher deep black hair, which heightened the ghastly aspect of her face,she might have been mistaken, as she lay in the woman's arms, for anexquisitely chiseled statue of youth in death!
When the figure of the young warrior, arrayed in his martialhabiliments, and standing near the insensible girl with evidentemotions of wonder and anxiety, was added to the group thusproduced,--when Goisvintha's tall, powerful frame, clothed in darkgarments, and bent over the fragile form and white dress of thefugitive, was illuminated by the wild, fitful glare of the torch,--whenthe heightened colour, worn features, and eager expression of the womanwere beheld, here shadowed, there brightened, in close opposition tothe pale, youthful, reposing countenance of the girl, such anassemblage of violent lights and deep shades was produced, as gave thewhole scene a character at once mysterious and sublime. It presentedan harmonious variety of solemn colours, united by the exquisiteartifice of Nature to a grand, yet simple disposition of form. It wasa picture executed by the hand of Rembrandt, and imagined by the mindof Raphael.
Starting abruptly from her long, earnest examination of the fugitive,Goisvintha proceeded to employ herself in restoring animation to herinsensible charge. While thus occupied, she preserved unbrokensilence. A breathless expectation, that absorbed all her senses in onedirection, seemed to have possessed itself of her heart. She labouredat her task with the mechanical, unwavering energy of those, whoseattention is occupied by their thoughts rather than their actions.Slowly and unwillingly the first faint flush of returning animationdawned, in the tenderest delicacy of hue, upon the girl's colourlesscheek. Gradually and softly, her quickening respiration fluttered athin lock of hair that had fallen over her face. A little intervalmore, and then the closed, peaceful eyes suddenly opened, and glancequickly round the tent with a wild expression of bewilderment andterror. Then, as Goisvintha rose, and attempted to place her on aseat, she tore herself from her grasp, looked on her for a moment withfearful intentness, and then falling on her knees, murmured, in aplaintive voice,--
'Have mercy upon me. I am forsaken by my father,--I know not why. Thegates of the city are shut against me. My habitation in Rome is closedto me for ever!'
She had scarcely spoken these few words, before an ominous changeappeared in Goisvintha's countenance. Its former expression of ardentcuriosity changed to a look of malignant triumph. Her eyes fixedthemselves on the girl's upturned face, in glaring, steady, spell-boundcontemplation. She gloated over the helpless creature before her, asthe wild beast gloats over the prey that it has secured. Her formdilated, a scornful smile appeared on her lips, a hot flush rose on hercheeks, and ever and anon she whispered softly to herself, 'I knew shewas Roman! Aha! I knew she was Roman!'
During this space of time Hermanric was silent. His breath came shortand thick, his face grew pale, and his glance, after resting for aninstant on the woman and the girl, travelled slowly and anxiously roundthe tent. In one corner of it lay a heavy battle-axe. He looked for amoment from the weapon to Goisvintha, with a vivid expression ofhorror, and then moving slowly across the tent, with a firm, yettrembling grasp, he possessed himself of the arm.
As he looked up, Goisvintha approached him. In one hand she held thebloody helmet-crest, while she pointed with the other to the crouchingform of the girl. Her lips were still parted with their unnaturalsmile, and she whispered softly to the Goth--'Remember yourpromise!--remember your kindred!--remember the massacre of Aquileia!'
The young warrior made no answer. He moved rapidly forward a fewsteps, and signed hurriedly to the young girl to fly by the door; buther terror had by this time divested her of all her ordinary powers ofperception and comprehension. She looked up vacantly at Hermanric, andthen shuddering violently, crept into a corner of the tent. During theshort silence that now ensued, the Goth could hear her shiver and sigh,as he stood watching, with all the anxiety of apprehension,Goisvintha's darkening brow.
'She is Roman--she is the first dweller in the city who has appearedbefore you!--remember your promise!--remember your kindred!--rememberthe massacre of Aquileia!' said the woman in fierce, quick,concentrated tones.
'I remember that I am a warrior and a Goth,' replied Hermanric,disdainfully. 'I have promised to avenge you, but it must be on a manthat my promise must be fulfilled--an armed man, who can come forthwith weapons in his hand--a strong man of courage whom I will slay insingle combat before your eyes! The girl is too young to die, too weakto be assailed!'
Not a syllable that he had spoken had passed unheeded by the fugitive,every word seemed to revive her torpid faculties. As he ceased shearose, and with the quick instinct of terror, ran up to the side of theyoung Goth. Then seizing his hand--the hand that still grasped thebattle-axe--she knelt down and kissed it, uttering hurried brokenejaculations, as she clasped it to her bosom, which the tremulousnessof her voice rendered completely unintelligible.
'Did the Romans think my children too young to die, or too weak to beassailed?' cried Goisvintha. 'By the Lord God of Heaven, they murderedthem the more willingly because they were young, and wounded them themore fiercely because they were weak! My heart leaps within me as Ilook on the girl! I am doubly avenged, if I am avenged on the innocentand the youthful! Her bones shall rot on the plains of Rome, as thebones of my offspring rot on the plains of Aquileia! Shed me herblood!--Remember your promise!--Shed me her blood!'
She advanced with extended arms and gleaming eyes towards the fugitive.She gasped for breath, her face turned suddenly to a livid paleness,the torchlight fell upon her distorted features, she looked unearthlyat that fearful moment; but the divinity of mercy had now braced thedetermination of the young Goth to meet all emergencies. His brightsteady eye quailed not for an instant, as he encountered the franticglance of the fury before him. With one hand he barred Goisvintha fromadvancing another step; the other, he could not disengage from thegirl, who now clasped and kissed it more eagerly than before.
'You do this but to tempt me to anger,' said Goisvintha, altering hermanner with sudden and palpable cunning, more ominous of peril to thefugitive than the fury she had hitherto displayed. 'You jest at me,because I have failed in patience, like a child! But you will shed herblood--you are honourable and will hold to your promise--you will shedher blood! And I,' she continued, exultingly, seating herself on theoaken chest that she had previously occupied, and resting her clenchedhands on her knees; 'I will wait to see it!'
At this moment voices and steps were heard outside the tent. Hermanricinstantly raised the trembling girl from the ground, and supporting herby his arm, advanced to asce
rtain the cause of the disturbance. He wasconfronted the next instant by an old warrior of superior rank,attached to the person of Alaric, who was followed by a small party ofthe ordinary soldiery of the camp.
'Among the women appointed by the king to the office of tending, forthis night, those sick and wounded on the march, is Goisvintha, sisterof Hermanric. If she is here, let her approach and follow me;' saidthe chief of the party in authoritative tones, pausing at the door ofthe tent.
Goisvintha rose. For an instant she stood irresolute. To quitHermanric at such a time as this, was a sacrifice that wrung her savageheart;--but she remembered the severity of Alaric's discipline, she sawthe armed men awaiting her, and yielded after a struggle to theimperious necessity of obedience to the king's commands. Tremblingwith suppressed anger and bitter disappointment, she whispered toHermanric as she passed him:--
'You cannot save her if you would! You dare not commit her to thecharge of your companions, she is too young and too fair to beabandoned to their doubtful protection. You cannot escape with her,for you must remain here on the watch at your post. You will not lether depart by herself, for you know that she would perish with cold andprivation before the morning rises. When I return on the morrow I shallsee her in the tent. You cannot escape from your promise;--you cannotforget it,--you must shed her blood!'
'The commands of the king,' said the old warrior, signing to his partyto depart with Goisvintha, who now stood with forced calmness awaitingtheir guidance: 'will be communicated to the chieftain Hermanric onthe morrow. Remember,' he continued in a lower tone, pointingcontemptuously to the trembling girl; 'that the vigilance you haveshown in setting the watch before yonder gate, will not excuse anynegligence your prize there may now cause you to commit! Consult youryouthful pleasures as you please, but remember your duties! Farewell!'
Uttering these words in a stern, serious tone, the veteran departed.Soon the last sound of the footsteps of his escort died away, andHermanric and the fugitive were left alone in the tent.
During the address of the old warrior to the chieftain, the girl hadsilently detached herself from her protector's support, and retiredhastily to the interior of the tent. When she saw that they were lefttogether again, she advanced hesitatingly towards the young Goth, andlooked up with an expression of mute inquiry into his face.
'I am very miserable,' said she, after an interval of silence, in soft,clear, melancholy accents. 'If you forsake me now, I must die--and Ihave lived so short a time on the earth, I have known so littlehappiness and so little love, that I am not fit to die! But you willprotect me! You are good and brave, strong with weapons in your hands,and full of pity. You have defended me, and spoken kindly of me--Ilove you for the compassion you have shown me.'
Her language and actions, simple as they were, were yet so new toHermanric, whose experience of her sex had been almost entirely limitedto the women of his own stern impassive nation, that he could onlyreply by a brief assurance of protection, when the suppliant awaitedhis answer. A new page in the history of humanity was opening beforehis eyes, and he scanned it in wondering silence.
'If that woman should return,' pursued the girl, fixing her dark,eloquent eyes intently upon the Goth's countenance, 'take me quicklywhere she cannot come. My heart grows cold as I look on her! She willkill me if she can approach me again! My father's anger is veryfearful, but hers is horrible--horrible--horrible! Hush! already Ihear her coming back--let us go--I will follow you wherever youplease--but let us not delay while there is time to depart! She willdestroy me if she sees me now, and I cannot die yet! Oh my preserver,my compassionate defender, I cannot die yet!'
'No one shall harm you--no on shall approach you to-night--you aresecure from all dangers in this tent,' said the Goth, gazing on herwith undissembled astonishment and admiration.
'I will tell you why death is so dreadful to me,' she continued, andher voice deepened as she spoke, to tones of mournful solemnity,strangely impressive in a creature so young. 'I have lived much alone,and have had no companions but my thoughts, and the sky that I couldlook up to, and the things on the earth that I could watch. As I haveseen the clear heaven and the soft fields, and smelt the perfume offlowers, and heard the voices of singing-birds afar off, I havewondered why the same God who made all this, and made me, should havemade grief and pain and hell--the dread eternal hell that my fatherspeaks of in his church. I never looked at the sun-light, or woke frommy sleep to look on and to think of the distant stars, but I longed tolove something that might listen to my joy. But my father forbade meto be happy! He frowned even when he gave me my flower-garden--thoughGod made flowers. He destroyed my lute--though God made music. Mylife has been a longing in loneliness for the voices of friends! Myheart has swelled and trembled within me, because when I walked in thegarden and looked on the plains and woods and high, bright mountainsthat were round me, I knew that I loved them alone! Do you know nowwhy I dare not die? It is because I must find first the happinesswhich I feel God has made for me. It is because I must live to praisethis wonderful, beautiful world with others who enjoy it as I could!It is because my home has been among those who sigh, and never amongthose who smile! It is for this that I fear to die! I must findcompanions whose prayers are in singing and in happiness, before I goto the terrible hereafter that all dread. I dare not die! I dare notdie!'
As she uttered these last words she began to weep bitterly. Betweenamazement and compassion the young Goth was speechless. He looked downupon the small, soft hand that she had placed on his arm while shespoke, and saw that it trembled; he pressed it, and felt that it wascold; and in the first impulse of pity produced by the action, he foundthe readiness of speech which he had hitherto striven for in vain.
'You shiver and look pale,' said he; 'a fire shall be kindled at thedoor of the tent. I will bring you garments that will warm you, andfood that will give you strength; you shall sleep, and I will watchthat no one harms you.'
The girl hastily looked up. An expression of ineffable gratitudeoverspread her sorrowful countenance. She murmured in a broken voice,'Oh, how merciful, how merciful you are!' And then, after an evidentstruggle with herself, she covered her face with her hands, and againburst into tears.
More and more embarrassed, Hermanric mechanically busied himself inprocuring from such of his attendants as the necessities of theblockade left free, the supplies of fire, food and raiment, which hehad promised. She received the coverings, approached the blazing fuel,and partook of the simple refreshment, which the young warrior offeredher, with eagerness. After that she sat for some time silent, absorbedin deep meditation, and cowering over the fire, apparently unconsciousof the curiosity with which she was still regarded by the Goth. Atlength she suddenly looked up, and observing his eyes fixed on her,arose and beckoned him to the seat that she occupied.
'Did you know how utterly forsaken I am,' said she, 'you would notwonder as you do, that I, a stranger and a Roman, have sought you thus.I have told you how lonely was my home; but yet that home was a refugeand a protection to me until the morning of this long day that is past,when I was expelled from it for ever! I was suddenly awakened in mybed by--my father entered in anger--he called me--'
She hesitated, blushed, and then paused at the very outset of hernarrative. Innocent as she was, the natural instincts of her sexspoke, though in a mysterious yet in a warning tone, within her heart,abruptly imposing on her motives for silence that she could neitherpenetrate nor explain. She clasped her trembling hands over her bosomas if to repress its heaving, and casting down her eyes, continued in alower tone:--
'I cannot tell you why my father drove me from his doors. He hasalways been silent and sorrowful to me; setting me long tasks inmournful books; commanding that I should not quit the precincts of hisabode, and forbidding me to speak to him when I have sometimes askedhim to tell me of my mother whom I have lost. Yet he never threatenedme or drove me from his side, until the morning of which I have toldyou. Th
en his wrath was terrible; his eyes were fierce; his voice wasthreatening! He bade me begone, and I obeyed him in affright, for Ithought he would have slain me if I stayed! I fled from the house,knowing not where I went, and ran through yonder gate, which is hard byour abode. As I entered the suburbs, I met great crowds, all hurryinginto Rome. I was bewildered by my fears and the confusion all around,yet I remember that they called loudly to me to fly to the city, erethe gates were closed against the assault of the Goths. And othersjostled and scoffed at me, as they passed by and saw me in the thinnight garments in which I was banished from my home!'
Here she paused and listened intently for a few moments. Everyaccidental noise that she heard still awakened in her the apprehensionof Goisvintha's return. Reassured by Hermanric and by her ownobservation of all that was passing outside the tent, she resumed hernarrative after an interval, speaking now in a steadier voice.
'I thought my heart would burst within me,' she continued, 'as I triedto escape them. All things whirled before my eyes. I could notspeak--I could not stop--I could not weep. I fled and fled I knew notwhither, until I sank down exhausted at the door of a small house onthe outskirts of the suburbs. Then I called for aid, but no one was byto hear me. I crept--for I could stand no longer--into the house. Itwas empty. I looked from the windows: no human figure passed throughthe silent streets. The roar of a mighty confusion still rose from thewalls of the city, but I was left to listen to it alone. In the houseI saw scattered on the floor some fragments of bread and an oldgarment. I took them both, and then rose and departed; for the silenceof the place was horrible to me, and I remembered the fields and theplains that I had once loved to look on, and I thought that I mightfind there the refuge that had been denied to me at Rome! So I setforth once more; and when I gained the soft grass, and sat down besidethe shady trees, and saw the sunlight brightening over the earth, myheart grew sad, and I wept as I thought on my loneliness and rememberedmy father's anger.
'I had not long remained in my resting-place, when I heard a sound oftrumpets in the distance, and looking forth, I saw far off, advancingover the plains, a mighty multitude with arms that glittered in thesun. I strove, as I beheld them, to arise and return even to thosesuburbs whose solitude had affrighted me. But my limbs failed me. Isaw a little hollow hidden among the trees around. I entered it, andthere throughout the lonely day I lay concealed. I heard the longtramp of footsteps, as your army passed me on the roads beneath; andthen, after those hours of fear came the weary hours of solitude!
'Oh, those--lonely--lonely--lonely hours! I have lived withoutcompanions, but those hours were more terrible to me than all the yearsof my former life! I dared not venture to leave my hiding-place--Idared not call! Alone in the world, I crouched in my refuge till thesun went down! Then came the mist, and the darkness, and the cold.The bitter winds of night thrilled through and through me! The lonelyobscurity around me seemed filled with phantoms whom I could notbehold, who touched me and rustled over the surface of my skin! Theyhalf maddened me! I rose to depart; to meet my wrathful father, or thearmy that had passed me, or solitude in the cold, bright meadows--Icared not which!--when I discerned the light of your torch, the momentere it was extinguished. Dark though it then was, I found your tent.And now I know that I have found yet more--a companion and a friend!'
She looked up at the young Goth as she pronounced these words with thesame grateful expression that had appeared on her countenance before;but this time her eyes were not dimmed by tears. Already herdisposition--poor as was the prospect of happiness which now lay beforeit--had begun to return, with an almost infantine facility of change,to the restoring influences of the brighter emotions. Already the shorttranquilities of the present began to exert for her their effacingcharm over the long agitations of the past. Despair was unnumberedamong the emotions that grew round that child-like heart; shame, fear,and grief, however they might overshadow it for a time, left no taintof their presence on its bright, fine surface. Tender, perilously aliveto sensation, strangely retentive of kindness as she was by nature, thevery solitude to which she had been condemned had gifted her, young asshe was, with a martyr's endurance of ill, and with a stoic's patienceunder pain.
'Do not mourn for me now,' she pursued, gently interrupting some brokenexpressions of compassion which fell from the lips of the young Goth.'If you are merciful to me, I shall forget all that I have suffered!Though your nation is at enmity with mine, while you remain my friend,I fear nothing! I can look on your great stature, and heavy sword, andbright armour now without trembling! You are not like the soldiers ofRome;--you are taller, stronger, more gloriously arrayed! You are likea statue I once saw by chance of a warrior of the Greeks! You have alook of conquest and a presence of command!'
She gazed on the manly and powerful frame of the young warrior, clothedas it was in the accoutrements of his warlike nation, with anexpression of childish interest and astonishment, asking him theappellation and use of each part of his equipment, as it attracted herattention, and ending her inquiries by eagerly demanding his name.
'Hermanric,' she repeated, as he answered her, pronouncing with somedifficulty the harsh Gothic syllables--'Hermanric!--that is a stern,solemn name--a name fit for a warrior and a man! Mine soundsworthless, after such a name as that! It is only Antonina!'
Deeply as he was interested in every word uttered by the girl,Hermanric could no longer fail to perceive the evident traces ofexhaustion that now appeared in the slightest of her actions.Producing some furs from a corner of the tent, he made a sort of rudecouch by the side of the fire, heaped fresh fuel on the flames, andthen gently counselled her to recruit her wasted energies by repose.There was something so candid in his manner, so sincere in the tones ofhis voice, as he made his simple offer of hospitality to the strangerwho had taken refuge with him, that the most distrustful woman wouldhave accepted with as little hesitation as Antonina; who, gratefullyand unhesitatingly, laid down on the bed that he had been spreading forher at her feet.
As soon as he had carefully covered her with a cloak, and rearrangedher couch in the position best calculated to insure her all the warmthof the burning fuel, Hermanric retired to the other side of the fire;and, leaning on his sword, abandoned himself to the new and absorbingreflections which the presence of the girl naturally aroused.
He thought not on the duties demanded of him by the blockade; heremembered neither the scene of rage and ferocity that had followed hisevasion of his reckless promise; nor the fierce determination thatGoisvintha had expressed as she quitted him for the night. The caresand toils to come with the new morning, which would oblige him toexpose the fugitive to the malignity of her revengeful enemy; thethousand contingencies that the difference of their sexes, theirnations, and their lives, might create to oppose the continuance of thepermanent protection that he had promised to her, caused him noforebodings. Antonina, and Antonina alone, occupied every faculty ofhis mind, and every feeling of his heart. There was a softness and amelody to his ear in her very name!
His early life had made him well acquainted with the Latin tongue, buthe had never discovered all its native smoothness of sound, andelegance of structure, until he had heard it spoken by Antonina. Wordby word, he passed over in his mind her varied, natural, and happyturns of expression; recalling, as he was thus employed, the eloquentlooks, the rapid gesticulations, the changing tones which hadaccompanied those words, and thinking how wide was the differencebetween this young daughter of Rome, and the cold and taciturn women ofhis own nation. The very mystery enveloping her story, which would haveexcited the suspicion or contempt of more civilised men, aroused in himno other emotions than those of wonder and compassion. No feelings ofa lower nature than these entered his heart towards the girl. She wassafe under the protection of the enemy and the barbarian, after havingbeen lost through the interference of the Roman and the senator.
To the simple perceptions of the Goth, the discovery of so muchintelligence united to such ext
reme youth, of so much beauty doomed tosuch utter loneliness, was the discovery of an apparition that dazzled,and not of a woman who charmed him. He could not even have touched thehand of the helpless creature, who now reposed under his tent, unlessshe had extended it to him of her own accord. He could onlythink--with a delight whose excess he was far from estimatinghimself--on this solitary mysterious being who had come to him forshelter and for aid; who had awakened in him already new sources ofsensation; and who seemed to his startled imagination to have suddenlytwined herself for ever about the destinies of his future life.
He was still deep in meditation, when he was startled by a handsuddenly laid on his arm. He looked up and saw that Antonina, whom hehad imagined to be slumbering on her couch, was standing by his side.
'I cannot sleep,' said the girl in a low, awe-struck voice, 'until Ihave asked you to spare my father when you enter Rome. I know that youare here to ravage the city; and, for aught I can tell, you may assaultand destroy it to-night. Will you promise to warn me before the wallsare assailed? I will then tell you my father's name and abode, and youwill spare him as you have mercifully spared me? He has denied me hisprotection, but he is my father still; and I remember that I disobeyedhim once, when I possessed myself of a lute! Will you promise me tospare him? My mother, whom I have never seen and who must therefore bedead, may love me in another world for pleading for my father's life!'
In a few words, Hermanric quieted her agitation by explaining to herthe nature and intention of the Gothic blockade, and she silentlyreturned to the couch. After a short interval, her slow, regularbreathing announced to the young warrior, as he watched by the side ofthe fire, that she had at length forgotten the day's heritage ofmisfortune in the welcome oblivion of sleep.