This resolution was a great sacrifice. For Witichis had his full share of the Germanic love of fight, and it was a hard blow to his pride to retreat and seek for means of defence, instead of striking at once.
But there was still more.
It was inglorious for a king who had been raised to the throne of the cowardly Theodahad because of his known courage, to begin his rule with a shameful retreat. He had lost Neapolis during the first days of his reign; should he now voluntarily give up Rome, the city of splendours? Should he give up more than the half of Italy? And if he thus controlled his pride for the sake of his people--what would that people think of him?
These Goths, with their impetuosity, their contempt of the enemy! Could he be sure of enforcing their obedience?
For the office of a Germanic king was more to advise and propose, than to order and compel. Already many a ruler of this people had been forced against his will to engage in war and suffer defeat. He feared a similar thing.
With a heavy heart, he one night paced to and fro his tent in the camp at Regeta.
All at once hasty steps drew near, and the curtain of the tent was pulled open.
"Up! King of the Goths!" cried a passionate voice. "It is no time now to sleep!"
"I do not sleep, Teja," said Witichis; "since when art thou returned? What bringest thou?"
"I have just entered the camp; the dews of night are still upon me. First know that they are dead!"