CHAPTER V.
Amalaswintha at first revelled in the feeling of gratitude, freedom,and safety. She made happy plans of reconciliation. She saw her peoplesaved from Byzantium by her warning voice--saved from the treachery oftheir own King.
She already heard the enthusiastic shouts of the valiant army,announcing death to the enemy, and pardon to herself.
Lost in such dreams, the hours, days, and nights passed rapidly.
The party hurried on without pause. Three or four times a day thehorses were changed, so that mile after mile was passed with the utmostvelocity.
Dolios carefully watched over the Princess. He stood at the door of thecarriage with drawn sword, while his companions fetched meat and drinkfrom the stations which they passed.
The speed at which they went, and the faithful attention of Dolios,freed the Princess from an anxiety which she had not been able for sometime to get rid of--it seemed to her that they were pursued.
Twice, at Perusia and Clusium, where the carriage stopped, she hadthought she heard the rattle of wheels and the sound of horses' hoofsclose behind.
And, at Clusium, she had even fancied, as she looked through thelattices, that she saw a second _carruca_, likewise accompanied byoutriders, turn into the gate of that town.
But when she had spoken of this to Dolios, he had at once galloped backto the gate, and shortly returned with the assurance that there wasnothing to be seen.
From that time she had noticed nothing more; and the mad haste withwhich she was being carried to the wished-for island, encouraged thehope that her enemies, even if they had discovered her flight and hadfollowed her for a time, had soon become tired and remained behind.
An accident, insignificant in itself, but fraught with dread because ofaccompanying circumstances, suddenly darkened the brightening hopes ofthe fugitive Princess.
A desolate, treeless waste extended on all sides, farther than the eyecould reach. Only reeds and tall marsh-plants stood in the damp ditcheson both sides of the Roman high-road, nodding and whisperingmysteriously in the night wind.
The road was now and then bordered by walls grown over with vines; or,in old Roman style, by monuments, which, however, were often sadlyruined, and the scattered stones of which, fallen across the road,hindered the progress of the horses.
Suddenly the carriage stopped with a violent shock, and Dolios toreopen the door.
"What has happened?" cried the Princess; "have we fallen into the handsof our enemies?"
"No," said Dolios, who, though known to her as gloomy and reserved,seemed, during the journey, almost alarmingly silent; "a wheel isbroken. You must descend and wait until it is mended."
A violent gust of wind just then extinguished his torch, and chillydrops of rain lashed the face of the terrified Princess.
"Descend? here? whither shall I go? There is no house near, not even atree which might afford a shelter from the rain and wind. I shallremain in the carriage."
"The wheel must be taken off. That monument will afford some shelter."
Shivering with fright, Amalaswintha obeyed, and walked over thescattered stones to the right side of the road, where, across theditch, she saw a tall monument rise out of the darkness.
Dolios helped her over the ditch. All at once the neighing of a horsewas heard on the road behind the carriage. Amalaswintha stopped shortin alarm.
"It is our rear-guard," said Dolios quickly. "Come!" And he led herthrough the wet grass up the hill upon which stood the monument.
Arrived at the top, she seated herself upon the broad slab of asarcophagus. Dolios all at once disappeared into the darkness; in vainshe called him back. Presently she saw the light of his torch on theroad below; it shone redly through the mist of the marsh, and thestormy wind rapidly bore away the sound of the hammer-strokes of theslaves who were working at the wheel.
Thus sat the daughter of the great Theodoric, lonely and in fear. Thecold rain slowly penetrated her clothing. The wind tore at her dressand sighed dismally through the cypresses behind the monument; raggedclouds drove across the sky and at intervals permitted a gleam ofmoonlight to penetrate their folds, which only intensified the darknessthat followed.
Amalaswintha's heart was sick with fear. Gradually her eyes becameaccustomed to the gloom, and, looking about her, she could distinguishthe outlines of the nearest objects. There!--her heart stood still withhorror--it seemed to her as if, close behind her on the raised cornerof the back of the sarcophagus, there sat a second figure--it was nother own shadow--a shorter figure in a wide flowing garment, its armsresting on its knees, its head supported on its hands, and its eyesfixed upon her.
She could scarcely breathe; she thought she heard a whisper; shefeverishly tried to see, to hear.
Again there came a whisper.
"No, no; not yet!" this was what she thought she heard.
She raised herself gently, and the figure, too, seemed to move; shedistinctly heard the clang of steel upon stone. In mortal fear shescreamed out:
"Dolios! lights! help! lights!"
She turned to descend the hill, but her knees trembled too much; shefell and hurt her cheek against the sharp stones.
All at once Dolios stood beside her, and silently lifted her up. Heasked no questions.
"Dolios," she said, trying to compose herself, "give me the light! Imust see what was there; what is there now."
She took the torch and walked with a firm step round the corner of thesarcophagus. There was nothing to be seen, but by the light of thetorch she now perceived that the monument was not old like the others,but newly erected; so unsoiled was the white marble, so fresh the blackletters of the inscription.
Irresistibly impelled by the strange curiosity which is inseparablefrom terror, she held the torch to the socle of the monument, and byits flickering light read these words:
"Eternal honour to the three Balthes, Thulun, Ibba, and Pitza. Aneternal curse upon their murderers!"
With a scream Amalaswintha staggered back.
Dolios led her, half fainting, to the carriage. She passed theremaining hours of her journey in an almost unconscious state. She feltill in body and mind. The nearer she came to the island the more thefeverish joy with which she had looked forward to reaching it wasreplaced by a mysterious fear. With apprehension she saw the shrubs andtrees at the road-side fly past her faster and faster.
At last the smoking horses stopped. She let down the shutters andlooked out. It was that cold and dreary hour in which the first grey ofdawn struggles for the mastery with the still pervading night. They hadarrived, it seemed, at the shore of the lake, but nothing was to beseen of its waters.
A dismal grey mist lay, impenetrable as the future, beforeAmalaswintha's eyes. Of the villa, even of the island, nothing could beseen.
On the right side of the road stood a low fisher-hut, half-buried inthe tall, thick reeds, which bent their heads to the soughing of themorning wind. Singular! they seemed to warn and beckon her away fromthe hidden lake behind them.
Dolios had gone into the hut. He now returned and lifted the Princessout of the carriage. Silently he led her through the damp meadow to thereeds. Among them lay a small boat, which seemed rather to float on themist than on the water.
At the rudder sat an old man in a grey and ragged mantle; his longwhite hair hung dishevelled about his face. He seemed to sit dreamingwith closed eyes, which he did not even open when the Princess enteredthe rocking boat and placed herself in the middle upon a camp-stool.
Dolios entered the boat after her, and took the two oars; the slavesremained behind with the carriage.
"Dolios!" cried Amalaswintha anxiously, "it is very dark. Can the oldman steer in this fog, and no light on either shore?"
"A light would be of no use, Queen. He is blind."
"Blind!" cried the terrified woman. "Let me land! Put back!"
"I have guided the boat for twenty years," said the aged ferryman; "noseeing man knows the way as well a
s I."
"Were you born blind then?"
"No. Theodoric the Amelung caused me to be blinded, believing thatAlaric, the brother of Thulun, had hired me to murder him. I am aservant of the Balthes, and a follower of Alaric, but I was innocent;and so was my master, the banished Alaric. A curse upon the Amelungs!"he cried with an angry pull at the rudder.
"Silence, old man!" said Dolios.
"Why should I not say to-day what I have said at every oar-stroke fortwenty years? It is the way I beat time. A curse upon the Amelungs!"
The Princess looked with horror at the old man, who, in fact, steeredthe boat with complete security, and as straight as an arrow.
His wide mantle and dishevelled hair waved in the wind; all around wasfog and silence; only the regular beat of the oars could be heard.Empty air and grey mist enveloped the slight boat.
It seemed to Amalaswintha as if Charon was rowing her over the Styx tothe grey realm of shades.
Shivering, she drew her mantle closely around her.
A few more strokes of the oar, and they landed.
Dolios lifted the trembling Queen on to the land; but the old mansilently turned his boat, and rowed as quickly and unerringly back ashe had come. With a sort of dismay Amalaswintha watched him disappearinto the thick mist.
Suddenly it seemed to her as if she heard the sound of oar-strokes froma second boat, which approached nearer and nearer. She asked Dolioswhat was the cause of this noise.
"I hear nothing," he answered; "you are over-excited. Come into thehouse."
Supported by his arm she climbed the steps, hewn in the rock, which ledto the tower-like, loftily-situated villa. Of the gardens, which, asshe distinctly remembered, extended on both sides of the narrow path,scarcely the outlines of the rows of trees could be distinguished inthe mist.
At last they reached the lofty entrance, a bronze door with posts ofblack marble.
Dolios knocked upon it with the hilt of his sword; the strokereverberated dully through the vaulted halls--the door sprang open.
Amalaswintha remembered how she had once entered this door, then almostchoked with wreaths of flowers, at the side of her young husband; sheremembered with what friendly warmth they had been welcomed by thedoor-keeper and his wife, at that time also a newly-married couple.
The dark-looking slave with tangled grey hair, who now stood before herwith a lantern and a bunch of keys, was a stranger to her.
"Where is Fuscina, the wife of the late ostiarius? Is she no more inthe house?" she asked.
"She was long since drowned in the lake," answered the door-keeperindifferently; and went forward with the light.
The Princess followed shuddering; she could not help thinking of thecold black waves which had so dismally licked the planks of the littleboat.
They went on through arched courts and pillared halls; all were empty,as if the inhabitants were dead. Their footsteps echoed loudly in thedeserted rooms--the whole villa seemed one vast catacomb.
"The house is uninhabited? I need a female slave."
"My wife will attend you."
"Is no one else in the villa?"
"One other slave--a Greek physician."
"A physician? I will see him----"
But at this moment a violent knocking was heard at the outer door.
Amalaswintha started in terror.
"What was that?" she asked, catching Dolios by the sleeve.
She heard the banging of the heavy door as it was closed again.
"It was only some one demanding admittance," said the ostiarius, as hereturned and unlocked the door of the room intended for the fugitivePrincess.
The close air of a chamber which had not been opened for a long timehalf suffocated her; but she recognised with emotion the tortoise-shelllining of the walls; it was the same room which she had occupied twentyyears ago.
Overpowered by the recollection, she sank upon the small couch, whichwas covered with dark-coloured cushions.
Dismissing the two men, she drew close the curtains of the couch, andsoon sank into an uneasy slumber.