Surely he is hungry, mother. (Approaches him. The men draw back.) My King!
Teja.
Who art thou, woman? What wilt thou, woman?
Balthilda.
Can I help thee, Sire?
Teja.
Ah, it is thou, the Queen! Pardon me; and pardon me, also, ye men. (Rises.)
Bishop.
King, thou must husband thy strength. Theoderic. Yea, King, for the sake of us all. The Men. For the sake of us all.
Teja.