"Whom shall we choose, Goths? Reflect well! Above all, it is clear, we need a man with a young and powerful arm to lead us against the enemy. But that alone is not sufficient. Why did our ancestors elevate the Amelungs? Because they were the noblest and most ancient race, descended from the gods. The first star is extinguished; remember the second, remember the Balthes!"
"Now there lived only one male descendant of that family, a not yet adult grandchild of Duke Pitza--for Alaric, the brother of the Dukes Thulun and Ibba, had not been heard of for years. Arahad was confident that this boy would not be chosen, and that then the people would think of the third star of nobility. But he erred. Old Haduswinth came forward angrily and exclaimed:
"Nobility and race! Are we serfs or freemen? By the Thunderer! shall we count ancestors when Belidarius is in the land? I will tell thee, boy, what a king needs. A brave arm, it is true, but not that alone. The King shall be a rock of justice, a bulwark of peace, not only a leader in the battle. The King shall have an ever-quiet and ever-clear mind, as clear as the blue sky; and, like stars, just thoughts shall rise and set therein. The King shall have an ever-equal power, but still more an ever-equal measure; he shall never lose and forget himself in love or hate, as we may, who stand below in the crowd. He shall not only be mild to friends, but just to enemies. He, in whose heart serenity is paired with bold courage, and true moderation with true strength--that man, Arahad, is kingly, even though the humblest peasant had begotten him."
Loud applause followed the words of the old man, and Arahad fell back abashed. But Haduswinth continued:
"Good Goths, I think we have such a man! I will not name him: you shall name him to me. I came here from the distant Alps of our boundary, towards the Karathans, where the wild Turbidus rushes foaming down the rocks. There I have lived for more than the usual days of man, free, proud and lonely. I heard little of the acts of men, even of the great deeds of my own nation, unless a pack-horse laden with salt happened to stray my way. And yet the warlike frame of one of our heroes penetrated even to that desolate height. One who never drew his sword in an unjust cause, and who never sheathed it without victory. His name I heard again and again when I asked: Who will protect our kingdom when Theodoric dies? His name I heard in every victory that we gained, and in every work of peace that was accomplished. I had never seen him. I longed to see him. To-day I have both seen and heard him. I have looked into his eyes, that are clear and mild as the sun. I have heard his words. I heard how he pleaded for right and justice, even for a hated enemy. I heard how he alone, when blind passion carried us away, remained serene and quiet and just. Then I thought in my heart: that man is kingly; strong in war and just in peace; true as steel and pure as gold. Goths! that man shall be our king. Name the man!"
"Earl Witichis! yes, Witichis! Hail, King Witichis!"
As the unanimous acclamation rang across the plain, a sudden fear fell upon the modest man, who had eagerly listened to the speech of the old orator, and only towards the close suspected that he himself was the man so praised.
And as he heard his name ring in this thousand-voiced shout, his only feeling was: "No! this cannot, must not be!"
He tore himself away from Teja and Hildebad, who were joyfully pressing his hands, and sprang forward, shaking his head, and, as if to protect himself, stretching forth his arm.
"No!" he cried; "no, friends! not that to me! I am a simple soldier, no king. I am perhaps a good tool, but no master! Choose another, a worthier!"