Читать книгу A Struggle for Rome (Vol. 1-3) - Felix Dahn - Страница 22

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The sound of approaching footsteps upon the sandy path startled her from her reverie. The step was so rapid and firm, that she did not expect Athalaric. But he it was, changed in appearance and carriage; more manly, stronger, more decided.

"Welcome, welcome, Camilla!" he cried, in a loud and lively voice. "To see you here is the best reward for this troublous day."

He had never spoken to her so before.

"My King!" she whispered, blushing. She cast a beaming look upon him from her dark eyes, then the long and silky lashes fell.

"My King!" She had never before called him so, never given him such a look.

"Your King!" he said, seating himself beside her. "I fear you will call me so no longer, when you learn what has happened to-day."

"I know all."

"You know! Well then, Camilla, be just. Do not scold, I am no tyrant----"

"The noble youth!" she thought. "He excuses himself for his most manly act."

"Heaven knows that I do not hate the Romans. Are they not your people? I honour them and their ancient greatness; I respect their rights; but I must firmly protect my kingdom, Theodoric's creation, and woe to the hand that threatens it! Perhaps," he continued, more slowly and solemnly, "perhaps its doom is already written in the stars. 'Tis all the same. I, its King, must with it stand or fall."

"You say truly, Athalaric, and speak like a King!"

"Thanks, Camilla; how just and good you are today! To such goodness I may well confide what blessing, what healing has come to me. I was a sick and erring dreamer, without support, without joy, gladly sinking to the grave. Then there suddenly came over me a feeling of the danger which threatened this nation, an active anxiety for the welfare of my people, and out of this anxiety grew a warm and mighty love for my Goths; and this ardent and watchful love has strengthened and comforted my heart for .... a bitterly painful renunciation. What matters my happiness, if only my people flourish! See, this thought has made me whole and strong, and truly, I could now venture upon the most daring deed!"

He sprang up and extended both his arms, exclaiming: "Oh, Camilla! this inaction destroys me! Oh that I were mounted and meeting a full-armed foe! Look," he added, more calmly, "the sun is setting. The mirror-like flood invites us. Come, Camilla, come with me in the boat."

Camilla hesitated. She looked around.

"The slave?" asked Athalaric. "Ah, let her alone. There she reposes under the palm by the spring. She sleeps. Come, come quickly, ere the sun sets. Look at the golden ripple on the water--it beckons us!"

"To the Isles of the Blessed?" asked the lovely girl, with a shy look and a slight blush.

"Yes, come to the Blessed Isles!" he answered, delighted, lifted her quickly into the boat, loosed the silver chain from the ram's head upon the quay, sprang in, took the ornamental oar, and pushed off.

Then he laid the oar into the notch at his left hand, and, standing in the stern of the boat, steered and rowed at the same time--a graceful and picturesque movement, and a right Germanic ferryman's custom.

Camilla sat upon a diphros, or Grecian folding-stool, in the bow of the boat, and looked into Athalaric's noble face. His dark hair was ruffled by the breeze, and it was pleasant to watch the lithe and graceful motions of his agile form.

Both were silent. Like an arrow the light bark shot through the smooth water. Flecked and rosy cloudlets passed slowly across the sky, the faint breeze was laden with clouds of perfume from the blossoming almond-trees upon the shore, and all around was peace and harmony.

At last the King broke the silence, while giving the boat a strong impulse, so that it obediently shot forwards.

"Do you know of what I am thinking? How splendid it would be to steer a nation--thousands of well-loved lives--securely forward through waves and wind, to happiness and glory! But what were you thinking about, Camilla? You looked so kind, you must have had pleasant thoughts."

She blushed and looked aside into the water.

"Oh, speak! Be frank in this happy hour."

"I was thinking," she said, her pretty head still averted, "how delightful it must be to be steered through the heaving flood of life by a faithful and beloved hand, to whose guidance one could implicitly trust."

"Oh, Camilla, even a barbarian may be trusted--"

"You are no barbarian! Whoever feels so tenderly, thinks so nobly, so generously controls himself, and rewards great ingratitude with kindness, is no barbarian! He is as noble a man as ever Scipio was."

The King ceased to row in his delight; the boat remained motionless.

"Camilla, am I dreaming? Did you say that? and to me V 9

"More still, Athalaric! I beseech you to forgive that I have repulsed you so cruelly. Ah! it was from shame and fear."

"Camilla, pearl of my soul----"

Camilla, who had her face turned towards the shore, suddenly cried out:

"What is that? They follow us. The court! the women! my mother!"

It was so. Rusticiana, aroused by the Prefect's terrible warning, had sought for her daughter in the garden. She could not find her. She hurried to the Temple of Venus. In vain. Looking around, she suddenly caught sight of the two--her child, alone with Athalaric--in the boat, far out upon the sea.

Greatly angered, she rushed to the marble table, where the slaves were just preparing the King's evening draught, sent them down the steps to unloose the gondola, won in this way an unobserved moment near the table, and directly afterwards descended the steps with Daphnidion--whom her angry cry had awakened--to the boat.

At this moment the Prefect and his friends, whose walk had also led them to this place, approached from a thick taxus-path. Cethegus followed Rusticiana down the steps and gave her his hand to help her into the gondola.

"It is done!" she whispered to him, and the boat pushed off.

It was just then that the young pair became aware of the movement upon the beach. Camilla stood up; perhaps she suspected that the King would turn the boat, but he cried:

"No; they shall not rob me of this hour, the happiest of my life! I must sip still more of these sweet words. Oh, Camilla, you must tell me more; you must tell me all! Come, we will land upon that island, they may reach us there."

And rowing rapidly, he pressed with all his might upon the oar, so that the boat flew forward as if winged.

"Will you not speak again?"

"Oh! my friend, my King--do not press me."

He only looked into her lovely face, into her beaming eyes; he paid no more attention to his goal.

"Well, wait--there upon the island; there you shall----"

A renewed and passionate effort, when all at once a dull crash was heard; the boat had struck, and drove, shaking violently, backwards.

"Oh, Heaven!" cried Camilla, springing up and looking towards the bow of the boat. A whole volume of water came foaming towards her. "The boat has burst! we sink!" she cried, turning pale.

"Come here to me; let me see!" cried Athalaric, starting up. "Ah! it is the 'Needles of the Amphitrites!' We are lost!"

The "Needles of the Amphitrites"--we know that they could scarcely be seen from the terrace of the temple--were two narrow, sharp-pointed rocks, lying between the shore and the nearest lagoon island. They scarcely rose above the level of the water; with the slightest wind, the waves washed quite over them.

Athalaric knew the danger of the place, and had always easily avoided it; but this time he had only looked into Camilla's eyes.

At one glance he saw their fearful position.

They could not be saved.

A plank in the bottom of the slightly-made boat had sprung; the water rushed rapidly through the leak. The boat sank deeper and deeper every moment.

He could not hope, with Camilla, to gain the nearest island or the shore by swimming. On the narrow point of the rock scarcely the feet of a sea-eagle could have found a moment's resting-place, and Rusticiana's gondola had only just pushed off from the land.

All this he had seen with lightning-like rapidity, and he cast a horrified look at Camilla.

"Beloved, thou must die!" he cried despairingly. "And through me!" He embraced her passionately.

"Die?" she cried. "Oh no! not so young--not now! Let me live--live with thee!" And she clung closely to his arm.

The tone, the words, cut him to the heart. He tore himself loose; he looked about for rescue. In vain; in vain. The water rose higher and higher; the boat sank more and more rapidly. He threw the oar away.

"It is over--all is over, beloved! Let us take leave!"

"No; we part no more! If we must die--oh! then, away with all the restraints which bind the living!" And, glowing all over, she nestled to his breast. "Oh! let me tell thee, let me confess to thee how much I love thee; how long ago--since--since first I knew thee! All my hate was only bashful love. Oh, God! I loved thee already when I thought I ought to abhor thee! Yes, thou shalt know how I love thee!" And she covered his eyes and mouth with hasty kisses. "Oh! now I will gladly die. Rather die with thee than live without thee! But no"--and she suddenly pushed him away--"thou shalt not die! Leave me here; go! swim--you can easily reach the island alone. Try; and leave me."

"No," he cried, in an ecstasy of joy; "rather die with thee than live without thee! After such painful doubt, at length joyous certainty! From this hour we belong to each other for ever. Come, Camilla, beloved, let us die together!"

A shudder of horror and delight, of love and death, shook their frames. He drew her to him, embraced her with his left arm, and lifted her upon the steer-board of the boat, which scarcely rose a hand's-breadth above the water. Already he prepared for the fatal leap--when suddenly they both uttered a joyful cry.

Round a precipitous promontory which stretched far out into the sea, at a short distance, they saw a ship coming at full speed.

The crew had heard their cry, and, at all events, saw their danger; perhaps had even recognised the person of the King. Forty oars, plunged into the water at the same moment by the rowers on the double deck, gave impetus to the course of the swift vessel, which rustled before the wind with swelling sails.

Those who crowded the deck shouted to them to stand firm; and presently--it was high time--the prow of the bireme lay close over the little boat, which sank immediately after the endangered pair had been taken on board the ship through the opening of the lower deck.

It was a small Gothic guardship. The golden rampant lion, the arms of the Amelungs, shone upon the blue flag. Aligern, a cousin of Teja, commanded it.

"Thanks, brave friends!" said Athalaric, as soon as he could find words. "Thanks! you have not only saved your King, but also your Queen!"

Much astonished, soldiers and sailors surrounded the happy man, who held the weeping Camilla in his arms.

"Hail to our young and beautiful Queen!" cried the red-haired Aligern; and the crew shouted enthusiastically, "Hail! hail to our Queen!"

At this moment the sailing-vessel rustled past Rusticiana's gondola. The sound of this joyous shout aroused the unhappy woman from the stupor of horror into which she had fallen when her two startled oarsmen had discovered the danger of the young couple in the sinking boat, and had at once declared that it was impossible to save them.

On hearing this, she had sunk senseless into Daphnidion's arms. Now she came to herself, and cast a confused glance around her. She was amazed. Was it a dream that she saw, or was it really her daughter who stood on the deck of the Gothic ship, which proudly rustled past, lying on the young King's breast? And did really joyous voices cry, "Hail, Camilla, our Queen?" She stared at the passing vision, speechless and confounded.

But the swiftly-flying ship had already passed her boat and drew near the land. It anchored outside the shallow garden-bay; a boat was lowered, the rescued couple, Aligern, and three sailors sprang into it, and soon they climbed the steps of the quay, where, besides Cethegus and his companions, a crowd of people had collected, who, from the palace or the gardens, had with horror become aware of the danger of the little boat, and now hurried to greet the rescued King.

Accompanied by felicitations and blessings, Athalaric mounted the steps.

"Behold!" he said, on arriving at the temple, "behold, Goths and Romans! behold your Queen, my bride! The God of Death has united us. Is it not so, Camilla?"

She looked up at him, but was terribly startled. The excitement and the sudden change from horror to joy had fearfully shaken the scarcely-recovered King. His countenance was pale as marble; he tottered and convulsively pressed his hand to his breast, as though suffocating.

"For God's sake!" cried Camilla, fearing an attack of his old malady. "The King is unwell! Quick with the wine, the medicine!"

She flew to the table, caught up the silver cup which stood ready, and pressed it into the King's hand.

Cethegus stood close by, and followed Athalaric's every movement with eagerness. The latter had already lifted the cup to his lips, but suddenly removed it, and said, smiling, to Camilla:

"Thou must drink to me, as becomes a Gothic Queen at her court."

And he gave her the goblet. She took it out of his hand.

For a moment the Prefect felt as if on fire.

He was upon the point of darting forward to dash the cup from her hand. But he controlled himself. If he did so, he was irrevocably lost. Not only tomorrow, as guilty of high treason, but at once arrested and accused of poisoning. And with him would be lost the future of Rome and all his ideal world. And for whom? For a love-sick girl, who had faithlessly revolted to his deadly enemy.

"No," he said coldly to himself, clenching his fist; "she or Rome--therefore she!"

And he quietly looked on while the girl, sweetly blushing, sipped somewhat of the wine, which the King then drank to the last dregs.

Athalaric shuddered as he replaced the cup upon the marble table.

"Come up to the palace," he said, shivering, and threw his mantle across his shoulders; "I feel cold."

And he turned away. In doing so he caught sight of Cethegus, stood still for a moment, and looked penetratingly into the Prefect's eyes.

"You here?" he said gloomily, and advanced a step towards him. All at once he shuddered again, and, with a sudden cry, fell prone near the spring.

"Athalaric!" cried Camilla, and threw herself upon him. The old servant Corbulo sprang to her from the group of domestics.

"Help!" he cried; "she is dying--the King!"

"Water, quick! water!" called Cethegus, and he resolutely went to the table, took the silver cup, stooped, rinsed it quickly but thoroughly in the spring, and then bent over the King, who lay in Cassiodorus' arms, while Corbulo laid Camilla's head upon his knee.

Helpless and horrified, the courtiers surrounded the two apparently lifeless forms.

"What has happened? My child!" With this cry Rusticiana, who had just landed, rushed to her daughter's side. "Camilla!" she screamed desperately, "what ails you?"

"Nothing," said Cethegus quietly, examining the two bodies. "It is only a fainting-fit. But his heart-disease has carried off the young King! He is dead!"