A murmur of approbation ran through the crowd.
"He loves the beautiful Mataswintha!"
"He is the brother of Duke Guntharis of Tuscany, who holds Florentia."
"He is her wooer."
"He comes forward as the avenger of her mother."
"I, Earl Arahad of Asta, the son of Aramuth, of the noble race of the Wölfungs," continued the young Goth with an engaging blush. "It is true, I am not akin to the murdered Princess; but the men of her family, Theodahad foremost, her cousin and her King, do not fulfil their duty as blood-avengers. Is not Theodahad himself abettor and hider of the murder? I, then, a free and unblemished Goth of noble blood, a friend of the late unhappy Princess, complain on behalf of her daughter, Mataswintha. I appeal against murder! I appeal against blood!"
And, amidst the loud applause of the Assembly, the stately youth drew his sword and laid it straight before him upon the seat of justice.
"And thy proofs? Speak!"
"Hold, Ting-Earl," cried a grave voice, and Witichis stepped forward opposite to the complainant. "Art thou so old, and knowest so well what is just, Master Hildebrand, and allowest thyself to be carried away by the pressure of the multitude? Must I remind thee, I, the younger man, of the first law of all justice? I hear the complainant, but not the accused."
"No woman may enter the Ting of the Goths," said Hildebrand quietly.