The cup was filled again, and to each of his most famous warriors, calling upon them by name, Attila drained the cup with some words of thanks and praise. To Maximin and Priscus also he drank, and then with ready celerity the slaves cleared the dishes from the table, and another service as splendid as the first supplied its place.
At every course Attila thus drank to his guests, and song and music went on, but not with the effect that they produced at first. The merriment grew higher and more loud; and Attila at length despatched a slave across the hall to bid Vigilius, the interpreter of the Eastern embassy, to advance and speak with him.
With a bending head and air of profound reverence, the cunning Byzantine approached the king. The monarch motioned him to come nearer, and then addressed him in a low tone, laying at the same time one finger of his sinewy hand upon the blade of the naked sword that lay beside him. What he said no one heard; but the effect upon the countenance of Vigilius was strange and fearful. The rose at no time flourished very luxuriantly upon his cheek, but now that cheek turned pale as death. A green and ashy hue, something even beyond the tint of death itself, spread over all his face. His eyes opened wide, his jaw dropped; and both Maximin and Theodore, whose looks were fixed upon him, thought that he must have fallen to the ground. Attila, however, bowed his head, as a signal that the interpreter might retire; and then perceiving that he could scarcely walk, the king beckoned to an attendant, saying coldly, "Lead him back to the table, or from the hall, if he prefer it."
But Vigilius returned to the table, and drank cup after cup of wine. Attila looked round to Ardaric with a meaning glance, and then he bade one of the slaves send in the jesters. A moment after, two of those miserable beings entered the hall, and one of those scenes of rude and dissolute merriment ensued which makes the heart ache for human nature. Laughter rang from every part of the hall; but the face of Attila was unmoved even by a smile. He sat and heard with calm and thoughtful gravity; and though he looked round from time to time, and noticed with careful consideration his various guests, yet it is probable his mind was far away, occupied with more important interests.
At length, gliding in among the slaves, who, with their busy services, occupied the greater part of the space which the tables left unfilled in the centre of the hall, appeared the boy Ernac, and took his way towards the table at which his father sat. The first smile that crossed Attila's lip beamed on it as the boy appeared; and greeting him with many a fond caress as he hung at his knee, he spoke with him for a few moments in a low tone, with an expression which showed how that stern heart was melted at the sight of tender youth. After a while, lifting his eyes, he looked towards the part of the hall at which Theodore was seated, and at the same time spoke a few words to his son. The boy's eyes instantly followed those of his father; and bounding away as soon as they lighted upon Theodore, he was at the youth's side in a moment, and greeting him, with eyes radiant from pleasure, upturned towards his face, while his lips poured forth words of gratitude and gladness.
"I thought thou hadst gone away, and left us for ever," he said, "though my father said that thou wouldst return. Yet I remember, when I lost a young wolf that I had tamed, they all told me it would return, but it never came again. It was too wise," he added, laughing, but with a gleam of intelligent light beaming from his eyes--"it was too wise, when it had got back to its woods and to its own way of life, to come back to captivity and strange customs."
Ardaric, who sat near, laughed at the boy's simile; and Theodore, smiling also, answered, "And so I suppose, Ernac, because we Romans say the great founder of our city was nourished by a wolf, you thought I must needs follow the example of your wolf's whelp. But did it promise you it would return before it went."
"No!" answered the boy, laughing; "and you did promise my father to come back: I know that is what you mean; and I did not intend to say that you were wrong to keep your word. If my wolf had returned, I should have loved it better, even though it made no promise, because that would have showed it loved me."
"And do you love every one who loves you, Ernac?" demanded Theodore: "if so, love me, for I love you."
"And so I do, noble Theodore," answered the boy: "ungrateful should I be if I did not love you. I always love those who are brave and generous, and I shall ever love you, because you saved my life, and risked your own to save it. So I will try in return to love you better than myself, and I will ask my father to make you a king instead of me."