"But would you not wish to be a king, Ernac?" demanded Ardaric. "Power is a great thing, boy! Power and command, to a brave and wise man, are not to be despised. Would you not wish to be a king?"
"Not I!" answered the boy: "I will be a chief under my father or my brother, and lead men to battle; but I never saw that kings were happier than other men. I would rather have some one to tell me what to do, and to make sure that I did not do wrong, than have no one to guide me, and be obliged to blame myself every day. Even you, noble Ardaric, you are a king, and yet you come to fight under my father's standard, and are willing to do what he commands."
A slight flush came over Ardaric's cheek; but he replied, without anger, "True, Ernac; but we have not every day an Attila. The wisest, and the noblest, and the bravest may be proud to obey him; but a weaker king might find a foe in Ardaric where Attila finds a friend. With pleasure we obey those that we respect, but we spurn from us those that we despise."
"That is what I mean," said Ernac: "I would sooner obey some one whom I could love and reverence, than take all the trouble of making others respect and yield to me. No, I would rather not be a king; but I would fain see Theodore a king, and striking down enemies beneath his arm as he struck down the wild urus."
Both Ardaric and Theodore smiled, perhaps to think how readily that unambitious spirit might learn in after years the lesson of aspiring; but if they thought so they were wrong; for such as it then showed itself was the natural moderation of the young chiefs spirit; and it never became contaminated, even in mingling in scenes of strife and contention, where every one strove for dominion except himself.
They looked up, however, at the same moment; and both remarked, as their glances accidentally wandered over the opposite table, that the eyes of Ellac, the eldest son of Attila, were fixed upon them and Ernac with a look of jealous malignity, as the boy stood by them and prattled of all his fancies.
Ardaric turned to Theodore, saying, in a low tone, "Were all as moderate as this fair boy, a bitter strife might be averted from the future."
But as Theodore was about to answer, Maximin and the rest of the Romans rose to withdraw; and knowing to what a pitch of excess the revels of the Huns were often carried, the son of Paulinus followed his countrymen from the hall.
Late and long the intoxicating juice flowed in the banquet-chamber of Attila; but early on the following morning Maximin was admitted to the presence of the king, and a long audience terminated as favourably as the Roman ambassador could wish. Even Vigilius seemed to forget the fear that some casual words of Attila had called forth; and, at the end of a few days, the envoy and his train took their departure from the Hunnish village, bearing with them rich presents. Several Roman captives also had been liberated at their request; but, alas! though Maximin tried eagerly to persuade Attila to free Theodore from the promise he had made to remain among the Huns, the monarch was, on that point, inexorable.
Some months passed by in the sports and occupations of winter, and Theodore became more and more accustomed to the manners of the barbarous nations among which he lived. The favour of Attila towards him was unbounded; and the commanding mind of that great conqueror was not without its effect upon the heart of Theodore. He became fond of the proximity and conversation of the Hunnish king, and felt a sort of strange and exciting pleasure in the vague sensation of awe with which Attila inspired all those who approached his presence. The monarch's kindness attached him, and his greater qualities gained the young Roman's reverence, even while the strange excess of his worse passions mingled a degree of regret in the sensations which he felt towards him.