"Yes, Hildebad is very strong, though not quite as strong as Winither, Walamer and others, who were young with me. Against North-men strength is a good thing. But this Southern folk," he continued angrily, "fight from towers and battlements. They carry on war as they might make a reckoning, and at last they reckon a host of heroes into a corner, where they can neither budge nor stir. I know one such arithmetician in Byzantium, who is himself no man, but conquers men. Thou, too, knowest him, Witichis?" So asking, he turned to the man with the sword.
"I know Narses," answered Witichis reflectively. He had become very grave. "What thou hast said, son of Hilding, is, alas! too true. Such thoughts have often crossed my mind, but confusedly, darkly, more a horror than a thought. Thy words are undeniable; the King is at the point of death--the Princess has Grecian sympathies--Justinian is on the watch--the Italians are false as serpents--the generals of Byzantium are magicians in art, but"--here he took a deep breath--"we Goths do not stand alone. Our wise King has made friends and allies in abundance. The King of the Vandals is his brother-in-law, the King of the West Goths his grandson, the Kings of the Burgundians, the Herulians, the Thuringians, the Franks, are related to him; all people honour him as their father; the Sarmatians, even the distant Esthonians on the Baltic, send him skins and yellow amber in homage. Is all that----"
"All that is nothing! It is flattering words and coloured rags! Will the Esthonians help us against Belisarius and Narses with their amber? Woe to us, if we cannot win alone! These grandsons and sons-in-law flatter as long as they tremble, and when they no more tremble, they will threaten. I know the faith of kings! We have enemies around us, open and secret, and no friends beyond ourselves."
A silence ensued, during which all gravely considered the old man's words; the storm rushed howling round the weather-beaten columns and shook the crumbling temple.
Then, looking up from the ground, Witichis was the first to speak:
"The danger is great," said he, firmly and collectedly, "we will hope not unavoidable. Certainly thou hast not bidden us hither to look deedless at despair. There must be a remedy, so speak; how, thinkest thou, can we help?"
The old man advanced a step towards him and took his hand:
"That's brave, Witichis, son of Waltari. I knew thee well, and will not forget that thou wert the first to speak a word of bold assurance. Yes, I too think we are not yet past help, and I have asked you all to come here, where no Italian hears us, in order to decide upon what is best to be done. First tell me your opinion, then I will speak."
As all remained silent, he turned to the man with the black locks:
"If thy thoughts are ours, speak, Teja! Why art thou ever silent?"