CHAPTER XI.
The power and glory of Totila were now at their height. His happiness was completed by his union with Valeria.
The betrothal had just taken place in the church of St. Peter, and was solemnised by Cassiodorus, assisted by Julius, now a Catholic priest, and also by an Arian minister. When Cassiodorus had betrothed the daughter of his old friend to the King, and they had exchanged rings, the royal couple were led in solemn procession over the Janiculum towards the right bank of the river, and across the Theodosian and Valentinian Bridges, which were decorated with triumphal arches. Following the course of the river, the procession entered a villa situated on an eminence overlooking the river and the campagna, and the betrothed couple took their places under a magnificent baldachin in the great hall.
There, before the assembled national army, under the golden shield of the King, which was hung upon his spear, the Roman bride stepped into the right shoe of her Gothic bridegroom, while he laid his mailed right hand upon her head, which was covered with a transparent veil.
Thus the betrothal was completed according to ecclesiastical, Roman, and Germanic custom.
This ceremony over, Totila and Valeria took their seats at the centre table upon the terrace of the villa; Valeria surrounded by noble Roman and Gothic women, Totila by the dukes and earls of his army.
Grecian and Roman flute-players played and sang alternately; Roman dances followed the sword-dance of the Gothic youths. Presently, dressed in a long, white festive garment, the hem embroidered in gold, and a wreath of laurel and oak-leaves upon his head, Adalgoth stood forth in front of the royal pair, cast an inquiring look at his teacher in war and song. Earl Teja, who sat on the King's right hand, and, to the accompaniment of his harp, sang in a clear voice:
"Hear, all ye people, far and near,
Hear, Byzant', to thy dole:
The Gothic King, good Totila,
Thrones on the Capitol/
"No more is Belisarius' name
In Rome with honour decked:
Of Orcus, and no more of Rome
Cethegus is Prefect.
"Of what leaves shall we weave the crown
For good King Totila?
Like sweetest rose upon his breast
Blooms sweet Valeria.
"Peace, freedom, right, and law protect
His shield, his star, his sword:
Olive, thy peaceful spray now give,
Give for the peaceful Lord!
"Who carried terror and revenge?
Who bore the Grecians down?
Come, laurel, leaf of victory,
Make rich my hero's crown!
"But his victorious strength grew not
From Roma's mouldering ground:
With leaves of young Germanic oak
Let his young head be crowned.
"Hear, all ye people, far and near,
Hear, Byzant', to thy dole:
The Gothic King, young Totila,
Thrones on the Capitol."
A burst of applause rewarded his song, during which a Roman youth and a Gothic maiden, kneeling before Totila and Valeria, offered each a crown of roses, laurels, olive-leaves and oak-leaves.
"Our songs are also not quite without sweetness, Valeria," said Totila with a smile, "and not without strength and truth. I owe my life to this youthful minstrel." And he laid his hand upon Adalgoth's head. "He struck thy countryman Piso, his colleague in the art of song, most roughly upon his clever scanning fingers--as a punishment for having written many a verse to my Valeria and raised the deadly steel against me with one and the same hand!"
"There is one thing that I would rather have heard, my Adalgoth," Teja said to the boy in a low voice, "than your song of praise."
"What is that, my Earl of harp and sword?"
"The death-cry of the Prefect, whom thou hast only sent to hell in thy verse."
But Adalgoth was called away down the steps by a crowd of Gothic warriors, who would not part with him for a long time; for his song pleased the Gothic heroes who had fought with Totila much better than it will perhaps please you, my reader.
Duke Guntharis embraced and kissed Adalgoth and said, as he drew him aside:
"My young hero! What a resemblance! Whenever I see thee my first thought is: Alaric!"
"Why, that is my battle-cry!" said Adalgoth, and, engaged in conversation, they disappeared amid the crowd.
At the same time the King looked back at the vestibule of the villa, for the performance of the flute-players stationed there was suddenly interrupted.
He quickly perceived the cause and started from his seat with a cry of astonishment.
For between the two centre and flower-wreathed columns of the entrance stood a form which seemed scarcely human. A maiden of wondrous beauty, clad in a pure white garment, holding a staff in her hand, and with a wreath of star-like flowers upon her head.
"Ah! what is that? Lives this charming figure?" the King asked.
And all the guests followed the direction of the King's eyes and the movement of his hand with equal wonder, for the small opening left between the pillars by the masses of flowers was filled up by a more lovely form than their eyes had ever beheld.
The child, or girl, had fastened her shining white linen tunic upon her left shoulder with a large sapphire clasp; her broad golden girdle was set with a row of sapphires. The long and pointed sleeves of her dress fell from her shoulders like two white wings. Wreaths of ivy were twined about her whole figure; in her right hand, which rested on her bosom, she held a shepherd's staff, wreathed with flowers; her left hand carried a beautiful crown of wild-flowers and was laid upon the head of a large shaggy dog, whose neck was likewise surrounded with a wreath.
The girl looked without fear, but thoughtfully and examiningly, at the brilliant assembly. For a while the guests stared and waited, and the maiden stood motionless. Then the King left his seat, went towards her, and said with a smile:
"Welcome to our feast, if thou art an earthly being. But if--which I almost believe--thou art the lovely Queen of the Elves--why then, be welcome too! We will place a throne for thee high above the King's seat." And with a graceful action he opened both his arms, inviting her to approach.
With a light and gentle step the maiden crossed the threshold of the vestibule and, blushing, replied:
"What sweet folly speakest thou, O King! I am no queen. I am Gotho, the shepherdess. But thou--I see it more by thy clear brow than by thy diadem--thou art Totila, the King of the Goths, whom they call the 'King of joy.' I have brought flowers for thee and thy lovely bride. I heard that this feast was to celebrate a betrothal. Gotho has nothing else to give. I plucked and twined these flowers as I came through the last meadow. And now, O King, protector of the orphan's right, hear and help me!"
The King again took his place near Valeria. The maiden stood between them. Valeria took one of her hands; the King laid his hand upon her head, and said:
"I swear to protect thee and thy rights by thine own lovely head. Who art thou, and what is thy desire?"
"Sire, I am the grand-child and child of peasants. I have grown up in solitude amid the flowers of the Iffinger mountain. I had nothing dear to me on earth except my brother. He left me to seek thee. And when my grandfather felt that he was dying, he sent me to thee to find my brother and the solution of my fate. And he gave me old Hunibad from Teriolis as a companion and protector. But Hunibad's wounds were not fully healed and soon re-opened, and he was obliged to stay sick at Verona. And I had to nurse him for a long time, until at last he died too. And then I went alone, accompanied only by my faithful dog Brun, across all this wide hot country, until at last I found the city of Rome and thee. But thou keepest good order, O King, in thy land--thou deservest all praise. Thy high-roads are watched day and night by soldiers and horsemen. And they were friendly and good to the lonely wandering child. They sent me to the houses of good Goths at nightfall, where the housewife cherished me. And it is said that the law is so well obeyed in thy realm, that a golden bracelet might be laid upon the high-road, and would be found again after many many nights. In one town, Mantua, I think it was called, just as I was crossing the market-place, there was a great press, and the people ran together. And thy soldiers led forth a Roman to die there, and cried: 'Marcus Massurius must die the death, at the King's command. The King set him, a prisoner of war, free, and the insolent Roman ravished a Jewish girl. Sang Totila has renewed the law of the great Theodoric.' And they struck off his head in the open market-place, and all the people were terrified at King Totila's justice. Now, my faithful Brun, thou mayest rest here; here no one will hurt thee. I have even ornamented his neck with flowers to-day, in honour of thee and thy bride."
She slightly struck the powerful dog on the head; he immediately went up to the King's throne, and laid his left fore-foot confidingly upon the King's knee. And the King gave him water to drink out of a flat, golden dish.
"For golden fidelity a golden dish," he said. "But who is thy brother?"
"Well," the girl answered thoughtfully, "from what Hunibad told me during the journey and upon his sick-bed, I think that the name my brother bears is not his real one. But he is easy to be known," she added, blushing. "His locks are golden-brown; his eyes are blue as these shining stones; his voice is as clear as the note of the lark; and when he plays his harp, he looks up as if he saw the heavens open."
"Adalgoth!" cried the King.
"Adalgoth!" repeated all the guests.
The boy--he had heard the loud shout of his name--flew up the steps.
"My Gotho!" he exclaimed in a jubilant voice, and locked her in a tender embrace.
"Those two belong to each other," said Duke Guntharis, who had followed the youth.
"Like the dawn and the rising sun," added Teja.
"But now," said the girl, as she quietly withdrew from Adalgoth's arms, "let me fulfil my errand and the behest of my dying grandfather. Here, O King, take this roll and read it. In it is contained the fate of Adalgoth and Gotho; the past and the present, said our grandfather."