"Leave me!" cried Mataswintha, frowning. "I will hear and read nothing.--But who are these?" And she pointed to the steps leading from the court to her apartments.
There, upon the cold stones, crouched women, children, and sick people, clothed in rags--a group of misery.
"Beggars," said Aspa; "poor people. They have lain there the whole morning. They will not be driven away."
"They shall not be driven away," said Mataswintha, drawing near.
"Bread, Queen! Bread, daughter of the Amelungs!" cried many voices.
"Give them gold, Aspa. All that thou hast with thee; and fetch----"
"Bread, bread. Queen--not gold! No more bread is to be had for money in all the city."
"It is dispensed freely outside the King's magazines. I have just come thence. Why were you not there?"
"Queen! we could not get through the crowd," said a haggard woman. "I am aged, and my daughter here is sick, and that old man is blind. The strong and young push us away. For three days we tried to go in vain. We could not get through."
"Yes, and we starve," grumbled the old man. "O Theodoric! my lord and King, where art thou? Under thy rule we had enough and to spare! Then the poor and sick were not deprived of bread. But this unhappy King----"