PART II.
CHAPTER I.
Thenceforth King Totila held his court in Rome with much splendour andrejoicing.
The heaviest task of all the war seemed to be completed.
After the fall of Rome, most of the small forts on the coast and in theApennines opened their gates; very few remained to be taken by siege.
For this purpose the King sent forth his generals, Teja, Guntharis,Grippa, Markja, and Aligern; while he himself undertook the difficultpolitical task of reducing to order the kingdom so long disturbed bywar or rebellion. He had, indeed, almost to refound it.
He sent his dukes and earls into the towns and districts to carry outhis intentions in all departments of the state; particularly to protectthe Italians from the vengeance of the victorious Goths. He hadpublished from the Capitol a general amnesty; excluding only oneperson: the ex-Prefect, Cornelius Cethegus Caesarius.
Everywhere he caused the destroyed churches, both Catholic and Arian,to be restored; everywhere the landed property was settled, the taxesnewly-laid and diminished.
The beneficial results of all this care were not long in makingthemselves felt.
Even when Totila had first assumed the crown and issued his manifesto,had the Italians resumed the long-neglected cultivation of the land.The Gothic soldiers were directed to refrain from disturbing thisimportant work, and to do all in their power to prevent any suchdisturbance on the part of the Byzantines.
And a wonderful fertility of the soil, a harvest of grain, wine, andoil, such as had not been seen for ages, seemed to prove that theblessing of Heaven had fallen upon the young King.
The news of the taking of Neapolis and Rome spread rapidly through theEastern Empire, where it was received with great astonishment, for allthere had long since considered the Gothic kingdom to be extinct.
Merchants who had been tempted by the strong and just government, thesecurity of the high-roads and of the sea--which were severallyprotected by patrols of soldiers and watchful squadrons of Gothicships--to revisit the deserted towns and harbours of the peninsula,praised the justice and benevolence of the royal youth, and told of theflourishing state of his kingdom, and of the brilliancy of his court atRome, where he gathered about him the senators who had repented oftheir rebellion, and gave to the populace liberal alms and splendidgames in the Circus.
The Kings of the Franks acknowledged this change of circumstances. Theysent presents--Totila rejected them; they sent ambassadors--Totilawould not receive them.
The King of the Ostrogoths frankly offered an alliance againstByzantium and the hand of his daughter. The Avarian and Slavonianmarauders on the eastern frontier were punished. With the exception ofthe few fortresses which were still in a state of siege--Ravenna,Perusium, and a few small castles--the whole country enjoyed as perfectpeace as in Theodoric's most glorious days.
At the same time, the King was wise enough to be moderate. Heacknowledged, in spite of his victories, the danger-fraught superiorityof the East, and earnestly sought to make peace with the Emperor.
He resolved to send an embassy to Byzantium, to offer peace on thebasis of a full acknowledgment of the Gothic rule in Italy. He wouldrenounce all claim to Sicily--where not a Goth was now dwelling (theGothic settlements on that island had never been very numerous); hewould also resign those parts of Dalmatia now occupied by theByzantines. On his side the Emperor should immediately evacuateRavenna, which no perseverance or stratagem on the part of the Gothicbesiegers had been able to reduce.
As the person most qualified to undertake this mission of peace andreconciliation, the King thought of a man who was distinguished byworth and dignity, by his love for Italy and the Goths, and who wasrenowned, even in the East, for his wisdom--the venerable Cassiodorus.
Although the pious old man had withdrawn from all affairs of state formany years, the young King succeeded in persuading him to leave thepeaceful quiet of his lonely cloister, and brave the troubles anddangers of a journey to Byzantium in order to perform this noble andpious work.
But it was impossible to lay upon the old man the whole burden of suchan embassy, and the King now sought for a younger and stronger man toaccompany him. A man of similar benevolent and Christian feeling--asecond apostle of peace.
A few weeks after the conquest of Rome, a royal messenger carried thefollowing letter over the Cottian Alps into Provence:
"To Julius Manilius Montanus, Totila, who is called the King of theGoths.
"Come, my beloved friend, return to my heart! Years have passed; muchblood has been shed, and many tears have fallen. More than once,terribly or fortunately, has everything changed around me since Ipressed your hand for the last time. Everything around me has changed,but I remain the same. All is as it was between you and me. I stillrevere the idols at whose shrines we worshipped together in the firstdreams of our youth, but growing experience has ennobled these idols.When sin, treachery, and all dark powers raged upon Italian soil, youabandoned it. See, they have disappeared, like moisture in the sun andwind. The conquered demons growl in the distance, and a rainbowstretches its brilliant arch over this my beloved kingdom. When noblersouls unhappily succumbed. Heaven preserved me to see the end of thefearful storm and to sow the seeds of a new time. Come now, my Julius;help me to carry out those dreams at which you so often smiled,thinking them _mere_ dreams. Help me to create a new people of Gothsand Italians, which will unite the advantages and exclude theweaknesses of both nations. Help me to found a realm of justice and ofpeace, of freedom and of beauty, ennobled by Italian grace, andstrengthened by Gothic endurance. You, my Julius, have built a cloisterfor the Church--help me to build a temple for humanity. I am lonely,friend, at the summit of fortune. Lonely my bride awaits the fullcompletion of my vow. The war has robbed me of my devoted brother. Willyou not come, my Dioscuros? In two months I shall expect you at Taginaewith Valeria."
Julius read; and with emotion said to himself: "My friend, I come!"
Before King Totila left Rome for Taginae, he resolved to pay an old debtof gratitude, and to give a worthy, that is a beautiful, form to an oldconnection that, until now, had not satisfied the desire for harmonywhich possessed his soul--his connection with the first hero of hisnation, with Teja.
They had been friends from their earliest boyhood. Although Teja wasseveral years older, he had always perceived and honoured the depth ofthe younger man's nature under the brilliant husk of his joyoustemperament. And a common inclination to enthusiasm and idealism,besides a certain pride and magnanimity, had drawn them early together.Later, however, their opposite fates had caused their originally verydifferent natures to deviate more and more.
The sunny brightness of the one seemed to contrast with the austerityof the other with painful brilliancy. And Totila, after repeated andimpetuous attempts to dispel the gloom of his silent friend--the causeof which he did not know, and the nature of which he did notunderstand--had at last, attributing it to a morbid mind, withdrawn toa distance.
The milder, though grave and softer influence of Julius, and hispassion for Valeria, gradually estranged Totila from the friend of hisboyhood.
But the experience of late years, the sufferings and dangers he hadendured since the death of Valerius and Miriam, the burning ofNeapolis, the distress of Rome, the crimes committed at Ravenna andCastra Nova, and lately the cares and duties of royalty, had socompletely matured the impatient and joyous youth, that he was now ableto do full justice to his gloomy friend.
And what had not this friend accomplished since the night when they hadsworn brotherhood!
When the others had become paralysed by suffering; when Hildebrand'simpatience, Totila's enthusiasm, and the quiet steadfastness ofWitichis, even old Hildebrand's icy fortitude, had wavered--Teja hadnever sighed, but always acted; never hoped, but always dared!
At Regeta, before Rome, after the fall of Ravenna, and again beforeRome--what had he not accomplished! What did not the kingdom owe
to hisefforts! And he would receive no thanks.
When Witichis had offered him the dignity of a duke, gold, and land, hehad rejected the offer as an offence.
Lonely, silent, and melancholy, he walked through the streets of Rome,the last shadow in the light of Totila's presence. He stood next to theKing's throne, with his black eyes ever lowered to the ground. He stoleaway without a word from the royal table. He never laid aside hisarmour or weapons.
Only when in action did he sometimes laugh; when, with contempt ofdeath, or the temerity which courts it, he sprang amid the spears ofthe Byzantines--then only did he seem to feel at ease, then all hisbeing was life, movement, and fire.
It was known to all the nation--and Totila specially had known it fromhis boyhood--that this melancholy hero possessed the gift of song.
But since his return from captivity in Greece, no one had ever beenable to persuade him to sing one of his glowing and inspiring songs;and yet every one knew that his little triangular harp was his constantcompanion in war or peace, inseparable as his sword. At the moment ofattack he was sometimes heard to sing wild snatches of song to themeasure of the Gothic horns. And whoever followed him into thewilderness of white marble and green bushes, among the old Roman ruins,where he was fond of passing his nights, might sometimes hear him playsome long-forgotten melody, accompanying it with dreamy words. But ifany one--which was seldom the case--ventured to ask what he wanted, heturned silently away.
Once, after the taking of Rome, he replied to a similar question put byGuntharis, by the words, "The head of the Prefect!"
The only person whose company he affected was Adalgoth, to whom he hadlately attached himself.
The young shepherd had been raised to the office of herald andcup-bearer to the King, as a reward for his bold act at the storming ofthe Tiber shore.
He had brought with him, though little schooled, a decided gift forsong. Teja was pleased with his genius; and it was reported that hesecretly taught him his superior art, though they suited each other aslittle as night and morning.
"It is just on that account," said Teja, when his brave cousin Aligernonce remarked this to him, "something must be left when the nightsinks."
The King felt that the only thing that could be offered to this man wasin _his_ power to offer--neither gold, nor land, nor dignities.
One night King Totila came to where the two bards were sitting. Hefollowed the sounds which, arising at irregular intervals from a groveof cypresses, and interrupted by half-sung, half-spoken words, wereborne to his ear by the night wind. Unnoticed and unbetrayed by thesoft moonlight, Totila reached the avenue of half-wild laurels andcypresses which led into the centre of the garden.
But now Teja heard the approaching footsteps, and laid aside his harp.
"It is the King," he said; "I recognise his step. What seekest thouhere, my King?"
"I seek thee, Teja," answered Totila.
Teja sprang from his seat upon a fallen column.
"Then we must fight!" he exclaimed.
"No," said Totila; "but I deserve this reproach."
He took Teja's hand, and affectionately drew him down to his formerseat, placing himself at his side.
"I did not seek thy sword, Teja; I sought thyself. I need thee; notthine arm, but thy heart. No, Adalgoth; do not go. Thou mayst see--andI wish thee to see--how every one must love this proud man, the 'BlackEarl.'"
"I knew it," said Adalgoth, "ever since I first saw him. He is like adark forest, through the branches of whose lofty trees blows amysterious breach, full of terror and charm."
Teja fixed his large and melancholy eyes upon the King.
"My friend," began Totila, "the gracious God of Heaven has endowed merichly. I have won back a kingdom which was half-lost; shall I not beable to win back the half-lost heart of a friend? And it was to thisfriend's efforts that most of my success was owing; he must now help meto regain my friend. What has estranged thee from me? Forgive me if I,or my good fortune, has offended thee. I know to whom I owe my crown;but I cannot wear it with gladness if only thy sword and not thy heartbe mine. We were once friends, Teja; oh! let us be so again, for I missthee sorely!"
And he would have embraced Teja, but the latter caught both his handsand pressed them to his heart.
"This evening's walk honours thee more than thy victorious marchthrough Italy! The tear which I see glittering in thine eye is worthmore than the richest pearl upon thy crown. Forgive thou me; I havebeen unjust. The gifts of fortune and thy careless joy have notcorrupted thy heart. I have never been angered against thee; I haveever loved thee, and it was with sorrow that I saw our paths in lifediverge; for, in truth, thou art more congenial to me, nearer than thouever wert to the brave Witichis, or even to thine own brother."
"Yes," said Adalgoth; "you two complete each other like light andshade."
"Our natures are, indeed, equally emotional and fiery," said the King.
"If Witichis and Hildebad," continued Teja, "went the straight way witha steady pace, we two were borne, by our impatient enthusiasm, as if onwings. And being so congenial, though so different, it pains me that,in thy sunny bliss, thou seemest to think that any one who cannot laughlike thee is a sick fool! Oh, my King and friend! whoever has onceexperienced certain trials and woes, and conceived certain thoughts,has for ever lost the sweet art of laughter!"
Totila, filled with a deep sense of Teja's worth, answered:
"Whoever has fulfilled life's noblest duties with a heroism equal tothine, my Teja, may be pitied, but not blamed, if he proudly scornslife's light pleasures."
"And thou couldst think that I was envious of thy good fortune or thycheerful humour? O Totila! it is not with envy, but with deep, deepsadness that I observe thee and thy hopefulness. As a child may exciteour sadness who believes that sunshine, spring-time, and life endurefor ever; who knows neither night, winter, nor death! Thou trustestthat success and happiness will be the reward of the cheerful-hearted;but I for ever hear the flapping of the wings of Fate, who, deaf andmerciless to curses, prayers, or thanks, sweeps high above the heads ofpoor mortals and their futile works."
He ceased, and looked out into the darkness, as if he saw the shadow ofthe coming future.
"Yes, yes," said the young cup-bearer, "that reminds me of an old adagewhich Iffa sang in the mountain, and which means something like that;he had learnt it from Uncle Wargs:
"'Good fortune or bad Is not the world's aim; That is but vain folly, Imagined by men. On the earth is fulfilled A Will everlasting. Obedience, defiance-- They serve it alike.'
"But," he continued thoughtfully, "if, with all our exertions, we cannever alter the inevitable, why do we move our hands at all? Why do wenot wait for what shall come in dull inaction? In what lies thedifference between hero and coward?"
"It does not lie in victory, my Adalgoth, but in the kind of strife orendurance! Not justice, but necessity decides the fate of nations.Often enough has the better man, the nobler race, succumbed to themeaner. 'Tis true that generosity and nobility of mind are inthemselves a power. But they are not always able to defy other andignoble powers. Noble-mindedness, generosity, and heroism can alwaysconsecrate and glorify a downfall, but not always prevent it. And theonly comfort we have is, that it is not _what_ we endure, but _how_ weendure it, that honours us the most; it is often not the victor, butthe conquered hero, who deserves the crown of laurels."
The King looked meditatively at the ground, leaning on his sword.
"How much thou must have suffered, friend," he then said warmly,"before thou couldst embrace such a dark error! Thou hast lost thy Godin heaven! For me, that would be worse than to lose the sun in thesky--I should feel as if blinded. I could not breathe if I could notbelieve in a just God, who looks down from His heavenly throne upon thedeeds of men, and makes the good cause to triumph!"
"And King Witichis?" asked Teja; "w
hat evil had he done? that manwithout spot or blemish! And I myself, and----"
He suddenly became silent.
"Thy life has been a mystery to me since our early youth----"
"Enough for the present," said Teja. "I have this evening revealed moreof my inmost heart than in many a long year. The time will surely comewhen I may unfold to thee my life and my thoughts. I should not like,"he continued, turning to Adalgoth, and stroking his shining locks, "todim too soon the bright harp-strings of the youngest and best singer ofour nation."
"As thou wilt," said the King, rising. "To me thy sorrow is sacred.But, I pray thee, let us cherish our refound friendship. To-morrow I goto Taginae, to my bride. Accompany me--that is, if it does not pain theeto see me happy with a Roman woman."
"Oh no--it touches me--it reminds me of---- I will go with thee!"