A Struggle for Rome, v. 1

by Felix Dahn

CHAPTER XXIV.

After the removal of the three dukes, Amalaswintha had maintained an expectant attitude. Although by the fall of the heads of the aristocratic opposition she had obtained some freedom of action, yet the National Assembly at Regeta, near Rome, was soon to be held, when she must either completely exculpate herself from all suspicion of murder, or lose her crown, and perhaps her life. Only until the assembly had taken place did Witichis and his adherents promise her their protection. She therefore made every effort to strengthen her position before the decisive moment arrived. She hoped nothing more from Cethegus; she had seen through his selfish motives.

But she hoped that the Italians and the conspirators of the Catacombs, at the head of whose members her own name figured, would prefer her rule, so friendly to the Romans, to that of a king who belonged to the Gothic national party. She ardently longed for the arrival of the body-guard from the Emperor, which would protect her in the first moment of danger; and she was zealously employed in increasing the number of her friends amongst the Goths themselves. She invited many of her father's old followers--zealous adherents of the Amelungs, grey old warriors of great influence with the people, brothers-at-arms and almost play-fellows of old Hildebrand--to return to Ravenna; particularly the white-bearded Grippa, Theodoric's cupbearer, whose fame was scarcely less influential than that of the old master-at-arms. She overwhelmed him and his comrades with honours, confided the castle of Ravenna to their care, and made them swear to keep faith with the Amelung family. As this connection with popular names was to form a sort of counterbalance to the influence of Witichis, Hildebrand and their friends--and Witichis could not justly prevent her from distinguishing the old friends of Theodoric with honours--so the Queen also looked about for aid against the family of the Balthes and their revenge. With sharp discernment she perceived that this could best be procured from the Wölfungs, whose family possessed great influence and riches in central Italy. At that time the heads of this family were two brothers, Duke Guntharis and Earl Arahad.

To win their alliance she had thought of a peculiarly effective means. For the friendship of the Wölfungs she would offer no less a price than the hand of her beautiful daughter.

In a richly decorated room at Ravenna the mother and daughter were engaged in an earnest but not amicable conversation on this subject.

The Queen was measuring the narrow apartment with hasty steps; all her usual repose of manner gone. She frequently threw an angry look at the beautiful girl, who, leaning against a marble table, stood quietly before her with downcast eyelids.

"Reflect well," cried Amalaswintha angrily, and suddenly standing still, "reflect once more! I give you three days' time."

"It is in vain. I shall always speak as I have done to-day," said Mataswintha without raising her eyes.

"Then tell me, what have you to say against Earl Arahad?"

"Nothing, except that I cannot love him."

The Queen did not seem to hear her.

"This is quite a different case from the other, when we would have had you marry Cyprianus," she said. "He was old and--which perhaps in your eyes was a greater disadvantage," she added bitterly--"a Roman."

"And yet I was banished to Tarentum because I refused him."

"I hoped that severity would have induced you to change your mind. For months I kept you away from my court, from my motherly heart." A bitter smile curled Mataswintha's lovely mouth. "In vain," continued the Queen. "I now call you back----"

"You err. My brother Athalaric called me back!"

"I now offer you another husband. Young, handsome, a Goth of the purest nobility, his rank is at this moment the second in the kingdom. You know, at least you suspect, how sorely my throne, surrounded by enemies, needs protection. He and his powerful brother promise us the help of their whole army. Earl Arahad loves you, and you, you refuse him! Tell me why?"

"Because I do not love him."

"A girl's stupid speech! You are a King's daughter; you ought to sacrifice yourself to your rank, to your kingdom."

"I am a woman," answered Mataswintha, raising her sparkling eyes, "and will sacrifice my heart to no power in heaven or on earth!"

"And thus speaks my daughter? Look at me, foolish child. I have striven after great things, and have attained much. As long as men admire what is great, they will name my name. I have won all that life can offer, and yet I never----"

"Loved! I know it," sighed her daughter.

"You know it?"

"Yes; it was the curse of my childhood! I was indeed still a child when my father died. I knew not how to express it, but even then I could feel that his heart missed something, when, sighing deeply, he embraced Athalaric and me, and sighed again. And I loved him all the more tenderly because I felt that he sought love most where it was wanting. Now indeed I know what then I could not explain to myself. You became our father's wife, because, after Theodoric, he stood next to the throne. Ambition, and not love, led you to his arms, and you could only give cold pride in return for his warm affection."

Amalaswintha was startled, and stopped again in her restless walk.

"You are very bold!" she said.

"I am your daughter----"

"You speak of love so familiarly--you seem to know it at twenty better than I at fifty. You love!" she cried suddenly, "and thence comes this obstinacy!"

Mataswintha blushed and was silent.

"Speak," cried her angry mother; "confess it or deny it."

Mataswintha cast down her eyes and still kept silence. She had never looked more beautiful.

"Will you deny the truth? Are you afraid, you, a daughter of the Amelungs?"

The girl proudly raised her eyes.

"I am not afraid and I do not deny the truth. Yes, I love."

"And whom, unhappy girl?"

"Not even a god could force me to tell that!"

She looked so decided that Amalaswintha did not attempt to learn more.

"Well," she said, "my daughter has no common nature. So I demand of you what is uncommon: to sacrifice all to the highest."

"Mother, I cherish a noble dream in my heart. To me it is the highest. To it I will sacrifice all."

"Mataswintha," said the Queen, "how unqueenly! See, God has blessed you above thousands with beauty of body and mind. You are born to be a queen."

"I will be a queen of love. All praise my beauty. I have proposed to myself, loving and beloved, happy and bestowing happiness, to be a true woman!"

"A woman? is that all your ambition?"

"It is. Oh, would it had been yours!"

"And the realm is nothing to you, the grandchild of Theodoric? Your nation, the Goths, are they of no account?"

"No, mother," said Mataswintha quietly; "it grieves me, it almost makes me ashamed, but I cannot pretend what I do not feel. The word 'Goth' arouses no sentiment in me. Perhaps it is not my fault; you have always despised these Goths and valued these 'barbarians' lightly; that was my first impression; it is enduring. And I hate this crown, this kingdom of the Goths; it has taken the place of my father, of my brother, and of myself in your heart! The Gothic crown has never been anything to me but a hated and inimical power."

"Oh, my child, woe to me if I am guilty of this! If you will not do it for the sake of our kingdom, oh, do it for my sake! I am lost without these Wölfungs. Do it for the sake of my love!" And she took her daughter's hand.

Mataswintha drew back with a bitter smile:

"Mother, do not blaspheme that holy name! Your love? You have never loved me. Nor my brother, nor my father."

"My child! What should I have loved if not you?"

"The crown, mother, and the hated monarchy! How often have you repulsed me before Athalaric's birth, because I was a girl, and you wished for a crown-prince. Think of my father's grave and of----"

"Cease!" cried Amalaswintha.

"And Athalaric? Have you ever loved him? Have you not rather loved his right to the throne? Oh, how often have we poor children wept, when we sought the mother and found the Queen!"

"You never complained to me! you do it only now, when I ask you for the sacrifice----"

"Mother, even now it was not for yourself, only for your crown and throne. Put off the crown and you are free from all care. It has brought us no happiness, only pain. You are not threatened--I would sacrifice everything for you--but only your throne, only the golden diadem, the idol of your heart, the curse of my life! Never will I sacrifice my love to this hated crown, never, never, never!" And she crossed her white arms over her bosom as if she would protect her love thus from all assailers.

"Ha!" cried the Queen indignantly, "selfish, heartless child! you confess that you have no feeling for your people, no pride in the crown of your great ancestors! You will not voluntarily obey the voice of honour; well then, obey force! You deny my love? then feel my severity! You will leave Ravenna at once with your attendants. You will go to Florentia, as the guest of Duke Guntharis; his wife has invited you. Earl Arahad will accompany you on your journey. Leave me. Time will bend your stubborn will!"

"No power can do that," said Mataswintha, proudly raising her head, and she left the room.

The Queen looked after her silently. Her daughter's reproofs had made a greater impression upon her than she was willing to allow.

"Ambition?" she said to herself. "No, it is not that which fills my soul. I feel that I could protect my realm and render it happy, and truly I could sacrifice my life, as well as my crown, if the well-being of my nation demanded it. Could I not?" she asked herself, doubtfully laying her hand upon her heart.

She was roused from her reverie by Cassiodorus, who entered with bent head and slow steps.

"Well," said Amalaswintha, struck by the sad expression of his face, "do you come to tell me of a misfortune?"

"No; only to ask a question."

"What question?"

"Queen," the old man solemnly commenced, "I have served you and your father faithfully for thirty years. I, a Roman, have served the barbarians, for I honoured your virtues, and believed that Italy, no longer capable of self-government, would flourish best under your rule, for your rule was just and mild. I continued to serve you, even when the blood of my best friends--and, as I believe, the most innocent blood--was shed. But they died by law, and not by treachery. I was obliged to honour your father, even where I could not praise him. But now----"

"Now? but now?" repeated the Queen proudly.

"I come now to beg from my friend, may I say my scholar----"

"You may," answered the Queen, softened.

"To beg great Theodoric's noble daughter to speak one single word, a 'yes.' If you can say this 'yes.'--and I pray to God that you can--then I will serve you as faithfully as ever, so long as my grey hairs are spared."

"And if not?"

"And if not, O Queen," answered the old man sadly--"oh, then farewell to you, and to my last joy in this world!"

"What have you to ask?"

"Amalaswintha, you know that I was far away on the northern frontiers of the realm, when the rebellion here broke out, when that terrible rumour arose, and that fearful accusation was made. I believed nothing--I hurried here from Tridentum--I arrived two days ago, and not an hour passes, not a Goth do I meet, but a terrible doubt falls heavily upon my heart. And you, too, are changed; restless, inconstant--and yet I cannot believe it. One sincere word of yours will dispel all these mists."

"Why use so many words?" she cried, supporting herself on the arm of her chair. "Ask briefly what you have to ask."

"Say but one simple 'yes.' Are you guiltless of the death of the three dukes?"

"And if I were not, have they not richly deserved their fate?"

"Amalaswintha--I beseech you--say 'yes.'"

"You take a very sudden interest in the Gothic rebels!"

"I beseech you," cried the old man, falling on his knees, "daughter of Theodoric, say 'yes,' if you can!"

"Rise!" she cried, turning away with a frown. "You have no right to question me thus."

"No," said the old man quietly, and rising from his knees. "No, not now. From this moment I no longer belong to this world."

"Cassiodorus!" cried the Queen, alarmed.

"Here are the keys of my rooms in the palace. There you will find all the gifts that I have received from you and Theodoric; the documents which assert my dignities, and my seals of office. I go!"

"Whither, my old friend, oh, whither?"

"To the cloister which I founded at Squillacium, in Apulia. Henceforward, far from kings and their deeds, I shall only do God's work upon earth. My soul has long since panted for peace, and now I have nothing left on earth that is dear to me. Accept once more my advice at parting: put away the sceptre from your blood-stained hands. You can bless this realm no longer, you can only bring a curse upon the nation. Think of the salvation of your soul, and may God be gracious to you!" And before the Queen could recover from her consternation, he had disappeared.

She would have hurried after him to call him back but she was met at the door by Petros, the ambassador.

"Stay, Queen," he said in a low and rapid voice, "stay and hear me. I have no time to lose. I am followed."

"Who follows you?"

"People who do not mean so well by you as I do. Deceive yourself no more; the fate of the kingdom is decided; you can hinder it no longer, so save for yourself what you can. I repeat my proposal."

"What proposal?"

"You heard it yesterday."

"That treacherous advice! Never! I shall report it to your master, the Emperor, and beg him to recall you. With you I will confer no more."

"Queen, this is not the moment to spare you. The next ambassador of Justinian is called Belisarius, and he will come with an army!"

"Impossible!" cried the forsaken Queen. "I recall my petition."

"Too late. The fleet of Belisarius already lies off Sicily. The proposal which you thought came from me you have rejected. Learn that the Emperor, and not I, was the propounder, and meant it as a last token of his favour."

"Justinian, my friend, my protector, would thus ruin me and my kingdom!" cried Amalaswintha, who began to see the terrible truth.

"Not ruin you, but save you! He will re-conquer this Italy, the cradle of the Roman Empire. This unnatural, impossible kingdom of the Goths is condemned and lost. Leave the sinking ship. Justinian reaches out to you a friendly hand, and the Empress offers you an asylum, if you will deliver Neapolis, Rome, Ravenna, and all the fortresses into the hands of Belisarius, and consent that the Goths shall be led, disarmed, over the Alps."

"Wretched man! Shall I betray my people as you have betrayed me? Too late I see your schemes; I came to you for help, and you will destroy me!"

"Not you, only the barbarians."

"These barbarians are my people; they are my only friends! I see it now, and will stand by them to the death."

"But they will not stand by you."

"Insolent! Out of my sight! Leave my court!"

"You will not listen? Reflect, O Queen! only on this condition can I answer for your life."

"My people in arms shall answer for my life!"

"Hardly. For the last time I ask you----"

"Be silent! I will not give up my crown to Justinian without a struggle."

"Well, then," said Petros to himself, "another must, do it. Enter!" he called aloud at the entrance.

But Cethegus alone appeared from behind the curtain.

"Where is Gothelindis? Where is Theodahad?" whispered Petros.

"I left them outside the palace. The two women hate each other too bitterly. Their passion would spoil all."

"You are not my good angel, Prefect of Rome," said Amalaswintha, turning away from him gloomily, as he approached.

"This time perhaps I am," whispered Cethegus, going close up to her. "You have rejected the proposals from Byzantium, as I expected you would. Dismiss that false Greek."

At a sign from the Queen, Petros retired into an ante-room.

"What would you with me, Cethegus? I trust you no longer."

"You have trusted the Emperor instead of me, and you see the consequences."

"I do indeed," she answered in deep grief.

"Queen, I have never deceived you in this: that I love Italy and Rome more than the Goths. You will remember that I never concealed it from you."

"I know it, and do not blame you."

"My dearest wish is to see Italy free. In order to keep the Emperor off, I would uphold your government; but I tell you openly that there is now no hope of this. If you proclaim war against Byzantium, the Goths will no more obey or the Italians trust you."

"And why not? What separates me from the Italians and my people?"

"Your own acts: two unfortunate documents, which, are in Justinian's hands. You yourself first called his arms into Italy--a body-guard from Byzantium!"

Amalaswintha grew pale.

"You know----"

"Unfortunately not I alone, but my friends, the conspirators of the Catacombs. Petros showed them, the letter, and they call down curses upon you."

"Then my Goths, at least, remain to me!"

"No longer. Not alone do the adherents of the Balthes seek your life; but the conspirators of Rome have sworn, as soon as war breaks out, to announce to all the world that your name stands at the head of their conspiracy against the Goths--against your own nation! The document, with your signature, is in my hands no longer; it lies in the archives of the conspirators."

"Faithless man!"

"How could I know that you treated with Byzantium behind my back, and thus made enemies of my friends? You see that Byzantium, the Goths, and Italy are all against you. If the war break out under your direction, division will run rife in Italy. No one will obey you, and the kingdom will fall helpless into the hands of Belisarius. Amalaswintha, there must be a sacrifice! I demand it of you in the name of Italy, in the name of your people and of mine."

"What sacrifice? I consent to any."

"The greatest sacrifice--your crown. Give it to a man who is capable of uniting the Goths and Italians against Byzantium, and save both nations."

Amalaswintha looked at him searchingly. A terrible struggle took place in her soul.

"My crown? It is very dear to me," she said.

"I always held Amalaswintha capable of any sacrifice."

"Dare I place confidence in your advice?"

"If it were sweet, you might doubt it; if I flattered your pride you might mistrust me. But I offer you the bitter cup of renunciation. I appeal to your generosity and courage. Make me not ashamed."

"Your last advice was a crime," cried Amalaswintha, shuddering.

"I preserved your throne by every possible means as long as it could be upheld, as long as it was necessary for Italy; and I now demand that you should love your people more than your sceptre."

"By God! there you do not err. For my people I have not hesitated to sacrifice the lives of others"--she gladly dwelt on this thought, which appeased her conscience--"and I shall not refuse now to sacrifice my personal ambition. But who will be my successor?"

"Your heir, to whom the crown belongs--Theodahad, the last of the Amelungs."

"What! that feeble creature?"

"He is no hero, it is true; but heroes will obey the nephew of Theodoric if you place him on the throne. And, consider, his Roman education has won the Italians for him; they will stand by him. They would both fear and hate a king after Hildebrand's heart."

"And rightly," answered the Queen reflectively. "But Gothelindis, Queen!"

Cethegus came nearer, and looked keenly into her eyes.

"Amalaswintha is not so mean as to nourish a pitiful feminine enmity when there is need of a noble resolve. You have ever appeared to me nobler than your sex. Now prove it, and decide."

"Not now," said Amalaswintha. "My head burns and my brain is confused. Let me alone to-night. You believe me capable of self-sacrifice. I thank you for that at least. To-morrow I will decide."