At the same time, the favour in which Theodore stood with Attila, though it caused him some enemies, gained him many friends and courtiers; and kind-hearted, liberal, bold, skilful, and active, possessing all those qualities, in short, which barbarous nations most admire, united to the graces and accomplishments of civilized life, Theodore won the love of many for his own sake; so that the halls of his dwelling were far more frequently filled with the noblest and greatest of Attila's chiefs than those of Ellac, the monarch's eldest son.
At length, as spring began again to blossom over the earth, the interpreter Vigilius once more appeared at the court of Attila, accompanied by his son. But then came forth the secret of his former journey, and of the words that Attila had spoken. The base intriguer was instantly seized and brought before the king, on whose right hand stood Edicon as his accuser. Around were placed the chieftains of the Hunnish nation, and, in their presence, Edicon charged the interpreter Vigilius with having endeavoured to seduce him, during his embassy to the court of Constantinople, to take the life of Attila on his return. Seemingly yielding to the entreaties of Vigilius and Chrysapheus, he had feigned, he said, to enter into all their plans; but immediately on reaching his native land he had revealed the whole to Attila, who, with noble magnanimity, had suffered the suborner of his subjects to come and go unarmed under shelter of the character of Maximin the ambassador, who had been kept in ignorance of the base designs of those who sent him. But when, after having been warned that his treachery was discovered, the interpreter dared again to show his face in the country of the Huns, bearing bribes to the officers of the king, vengeance might well be demanded, and Attila determined that the accusation should be publicly made, and the crime fully punished.
Vigilius, of course, denied his crime; but when the very purse which contained the bribe he brought to Edicon was laid before him, and death--bitter death--was awarded by the assembled chieftains, both to himself and to the son who was the companion of his journey and the sharer of his guilt, his courage failed; and, confessing his crime, but laying the burden thereof upon the eunuch Chrysapheus, he petitioned for life and pardon with all the eloquence of terror.
Attila gazed upon him as he would upon a writhing worm in his path; and, scorning to tread on so pitiful a thing, he sent his ambassadors to demand of Theodosius the head of the chief instigator of the treason meditated against him. Theodosius bought the pardon of his minions with gold wrung from his people; and Attila continued to treat with the monarch of the Eastern empire, while he prepared to turn his arms against the West.
These things, however, have been related on an eloquent, though not impartial page; and to that I must refer those who would go deeper into the history of the time. This is but a story of a narrower sphere.
[CHAPTER V.]
THE LETTERS.
He stood alone at the door of his dwelling, gazing forth upon the summer sunset, as--reflected in rays of gold and rose colour from the summits of the mountains where the snow still lingered--it spread in floods of brightness over the western sky. During the day there had been in the royal village of the Huns a certain degree of silent activity, the coming and going of messengers here and there, the frequent gathering together in small groups, the examination of horses and arms, and the arrival of strangers from distant lands, which betoken, in general, some approaching expedition. As Theodore stood and gazed out on the splendours of the dying day, he thought that ere now, on such an evening as that, he had drank draughts of deep enjoyment from that well of sweet sensations, unpolluted nature; but yet, before the sun had risen again, the bright hopes to which that exciting draught gave rise had been trampled, like flowers before a war-horse, beneath the feet of fate. Perhaps it was that the indications of some near-coming change, which he had beheld during the day, had occasioned such feelings, and called up such memories; but, as he stood and gazed, a slave from the dwelling of Attila approached with rapid steps, and put into his hand some small leaves of vellum, rolled carefully up, and tied with waxed threads.
"From the land of the Alani," was all that the slave said, as he delivered them, and then departed without waiting for any questions. With a beating heart Theodore opened the packet, and, sitting down on a seat before his door, he read as long as the light of the declining day would permit, and then entering his dwelling, concluded his task by the lamp.