He stepped out of the road. At the other side of the ditch lay a large mossy block of stone. There the King of the Goths seated himself, rested his arms upon his knees, and buried his face in his hands. He pressed them hard against his eyes, to shut out the whole world from his grief.
Tears trickled through his fingers. He did not notice them.
Horsemen galloped past. He scarcely heard them.
So he sat motionless for hours; so motionless, that the birds of the wood hopped close to him.
The sun stood in the south.
At last--he heard some one call his name.
He looked up. Earl Teja stood before him.
"I knew well," said Teja, "that thou hadst not fled like a coward. Come back with me, and save thy kingdom. When, this morning, thou wert not found in thy tent, the report spread through the camp that, despairing of kingdom and happiness, thou hadst fled. It soon reached the city of Ravenna and Guntharis. The Ravennese threaten a sally, and that they will go over to Belisarius. Arahad tempts the army to give him the crown. Two, three opposing Kings arise. Everything will fall to pieces if thou comest not to save us!"
"I come!" cried Witichis. "Let them take care! The best heart in the world has been broken for the sake of this crown; it is sacred, and they shall not desecrate it. Come, Teja, back to the camp!"