"Never!" cried Hildebad. "Thou art our King, and shall remain so. Never will I bow my head to that young coxcomb! Let us march to-morrow against the rebels; I alone will drive them out of their camp, and carry the royal child--at the touch of whose hands those fast-shut gates will fly open as if by magic--into our tents."
"And when we have her," asked Earl Teja, "what then? She is of no use to us if we do not make her our Queen. Wilt thou do so? Hast thou not had enough with Amalaswintha and Gothelindis? Once more the rule of a woman?"
"God forbid!" laughed Hildebad.
"I think so too," said the King, "otherwise I should have taken this course long since."
"Well, then, let us remain here and wait until the city is wearied out."
"It is impossible." said Witichis, "we cannot wait. In a few days Belisarius may descend from yonder mountains and conquer us, Duke Guntharis, and the city; then the kingdom and people of the Goths are lost for ever! There are only two ways--to storm--"
"Impossible!' said Hildebrand.
"Or to yield. Go, Teja, take the crown. I see no other expedient."
The two young men hesitated.
Then old Hildebrand, with a sad and earnest and loving look at the King, said: