Teja heard the report of the weeping Adalgoth in silence. Then he went close to the King's corpse. Without a tear, he laid his mailed right hand upon the King's wounded breast, bent over him, and whispered:
"I will complete the work."
Then he went back and took his place under a mighty tree, which rose above a forgotten grave-mound, and spoke to the little group of soldiers who stood silently and reverently round the dead.
"Gothic men! the battle is lost, and the kingdom likewise. Whoever will now go to Narses, whoever will subject himself to the Emperor, I will not keep him back. But I am resolved to fight to the end; not for victory, but to die the free death of a hero. Whoever wishes to share this fate with me, may remain. You all wish it? 'Tis well."
Hildebrand interposed.
"The King has fallen. The Goths cannot--even to die--fight without a King. Athalaric, Witichis, Totila--one only can be the fourth; only one is worthy to succeed these three; thou, Teja, our last, our greatest hero!"
"Yes," said Teja; "I will be your King. Under me you shall not live joyfully; you shall only die greatly. Be still! No cry of joy, no clang of arms must greet me. Whoever will have me for his King, let him do as I do."
And he broke a small branch from the tree under which he stood, and twisted it round his helmet. All silently followed his example.
Adalgoth, who stood next him, whispered:
"O King Teja! it is a cypress bough! Thus is crowned a victim doomed to sacrifice!"