Theodoric the Goth

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[Footnote 157: There is some little difference of opinion as to the site
of this battle. I place it near the Roman posting station of Ad Ensem,
represented by the modern village of Scheggia, in latitude 43º 25'
north.]

A space of about twelve miles separated the hostile camps. Narses sent
some of his most trusted counsellors to warn Totila not to continue the
struggle any longer against the irresistible might of the Empire; "but
if you will fight", said the messengers, "name the day". Totila
indignantly spurned the proposal of surrender and named the eighth day
from thence as the day of battle. Narses, however, suspecting some
stratagem, bade his troops prepare for action, and it was well that he
did so, for on the next day Totila with all his army was at hand.

A hill, which to some extent commanded the battle-field, was the first
objective point of both generals. Narses sent fifty of his bravest men
over-night to take up their position on this hill, and the Gothic
troops, chiefly cavalry, which were sent to dislodge them, failed to
effect their purpose, the horses being frightened by the din which the
Imperial soldiers made, clashing with their spears upon their shields.
Several lives were lost on this preliminary skirmish, the honours of
which remained with the soldiers of Narses.

At dawn of day the troops were drawn up in order of battle, but Narses
had made all his arrangements on a defensive rather than an offensive
plan and Totila, who was expecting a reinforcement of two thousand
Goths under his brave young lieutenant Teias, wished to postpone the
attack. Both generals harangued their armies: Totila, in words of lordly
scorn for the patch-work host of various nationalities which Justinian,
weary of the war, had sent against him. It was the Emperor's last
effort, he declared, and when this heterogeneous army was defeated, the
brave Goths would be able to rest from their labours. Narses, on the
other hand, congratulated his soldiers on their evident superiority in
numbers to the Gothic host. They fought too, as he reminded them, for
the Roman Empire, which was in its nature, and by the will of
Providence, eternal, while these little barbarian states, Vandal,
Gothic, and the like, sprang up like mushrooms, lived their little day,
and then vanished away, leaving no trace behind them. He had recourse
also to less refined and philosophical arguments. Riding rapidly along
the ranks, the Eunuch dangled before the eyes of his barbarian
auxiliaries golden armlets, golden collars, golden bridles. "These",
said he, "and such other ornaments as these, shall be the reward of your
valour, if you fight well to-day".

The long morning of waiting was partly occupied by a duel between two
chosen champions. A warrior, named Cocas, who had deserted from Emperor
to King, rode up to the Imperial army, challenging their bravest to
single combat. One of Narses' lifeguards, an Armenian' like his master,
Anzalas by name, accepted the challenge. Cocas couched his spear and
rode fiercely at his foe, thinking to pierce him in the belly. Anzalas
dexterously swerved aside at the critical moment and gave a thrust with
his spear at the left side of his antagonist, who fell lifeless to the
ground. A mighty shout rose from the Imperial ranks at this propitious
omen of the coming battle. Not yet, however, was that battle to be
gained. King Totila rode forth in the open space between both armies,
"that he might show the enemy what manner of man he was". His armour was
lavishly adorned with gold: from the cheek-piece of his helmet, from his
_pilum_ and his spear hung purple pennants; his whole equipment was
magnificent and kingly. Bestriding a very tall war-horse he played the
game of a military athlete with accomplished skill. He wheeled his horse
first to the right, then to the left, in graceful curves; then he tossed
his spear on high to the morning breezes and caught it in the middle as
it descended with quivering fall; then he threw it deftly from one hand
to another, he stooped low on his horse, he raised himself up again.
Everything was done as artistically as the dance of a well-trained
performer. All this "was beautiful to look at, but it was not war". The
ugly, wrinkled old Armenian in the other camp, who probably kept his
seat on horseback with difficulty, knew, one may suspect, more of the
deadly science of war than the brilliant and martial Totila.

At length the long-looked-for two thousand arrived, and Totila gave the
signal to charge upon the foe. It was the hour of the noon-tide meal,
and he hoped to catch the Imperial troops in the disorder of their
repast; but for this also Narses, the wary, had provided. Even the food
necessary to support their strength was to be taken by the soldiers, all
keeping their ranks, all armed, and all watching intently the movements
of the enemy. Narses had purposely somewhat weakened his centre in order
to strengthen his wings, which, as the Gothic cavalry charged, closed
round them and poured a deadly shower of arrows into their flanks.
Again, as in the campaigns of Belisarius, the _Hippo-toxotai_, the
"Mounted Rifles" of the Empire, decided the fate of the battle. Vain
against their murderous volleys was the valour of the Gothic horseman,
the thrust of the Gothic lance, the might of the tall Gothic steed.
Charge upon charge of the Goths was made in vain; the cavalry could
never reach the weak but distant centre of the Imperialists. At length,
when the sun was declining, the horsemen came staggering back, a
disorganised and beaten band. Their panic communicated itself to the
infantry, who were probably the weakest section of the army; the rout
was complete, and the whole of the Gothic host was seen either flying,
surrendering, or dying.

As evening fell Totila, with five of his friends hastened from the lost
battle-field. A young Gepid chief, named Asbad, ignorant who he was
couched his lance to strike Totila in the back. A young Gothic page
incautiously cried out, "Dog! would you strike your lord?" hereby
revealing the rank of the fugitive and, of course, only nerving the arm
of Asbad to strike a more deadly blow. Asbad was wounded in return and
his companions intent on staunching his wound let the fugitives ride on,
but the wound of Totila was mortal. His friends hurried him on, eight
miles down the valley, to the little village of Caprae, where they
alighted and strove to tend his wound. But their labour was vain; the
gallant king soon drew his last breath and was hastily buried by his
comrades in that obscure hamlet.

The Romans knew not what had become of their great foe till several days
after, when some soldiers were riding past the village, a Gothic woman
told them of the death of Totila and pointed out to them his grave. They
doubted the truth of her story, but opened the grave and gazed their
fill on that which was, past all dispute, the corpse of Totila. The news
brought joy to the heart of Narses, who returned heartiest thanks to God
and to the Virgin, his especial patroness, and then proceeded to
disembarrass himself as quickly as possible of the wild barbarians,
especially the Lombards, by whose aid he had won the victory which
destroyed the last hopes of the Ostrogothic monarchy in Italy.[158]

[Footnote 158: A gallant stand was made by Teias, who was elected king
on the death of Totila, but his reign lasted only a few months. He was
defeated and slain early in 553 at the battle of Mons Lactarius, not far
from Pompeii, and the little remnant of his followers, the last of the
Goths, marched northward out ot Italy and disappear from history.]

(568) Not thus easily, however, was the tide of barbarian invasion to be
turned. The Lombards had found their way into Italy as auxiliaries. They
returned thither sixteen years after as conquerors, conquerors the most
ruthless and brutal that Italy had yet groaned under. From that day for
thirteen centuries the unity of Italy was a dream. First the Lombard
King and the Byzantine Emperor tore her in pieces. Then the Frank
descended from the Alps to join in the fray. The German, the Saracen,
the Norman made their appearance on the scene. Not all wished to ravage
and despoil; some had high and noble purposes in their hearts, but, in
fact, they all tended to divide her. The Popes even at their best, even
while warring as Italian patriots against the foreign Emperor, still
divided their country. Last of all came the Spaniard and the Austrian,
by whom, down to our own day, Italy was looked upon as an estate, out of
which kingdoms and duchies might be carved at pleasure as appanages for
younger sons and compensations for lost provinces. Only at length,
towards the close of the nineteenth century, has Italy regained that
priceless boon of national unity, which might have been hers before it
was attained by any other country in Europe, if only the ambition of
emperors and the false sentiment of "Roman" patriots would have spared
the goodly tree which had been planted in Italian soil by Theodoric the
Ostrogoth.

[Illustration: COIN OF TEIAS. (successor of Totila.)]

[Illustration:]

CHAPTER XIX.[159]

[Footnote 159: This chapter is based on Peringskiold's Latin translation
of the "Wilkina Saga", and on the German translation contained in F.H.
von der Hagen's "Alt-deutsche und Alt-nordische Helden-Sagen". I am also
much indebted to the spirited rendering of the Sagas contributed by
Madame Dahn to her husband, Professor Dahn's, volume, "Walhall".]

THE THEODORIC OF SAGA.

The fame of Theodoric attested by the Saga dealing with his name,
utterly devoid as they are of historic truth--The Wilkma Saga--Story of
Theodoric's ancestors--His own boyhood--His companions, Master
Hildebrand, Heime, and Witig--Death of his father and his succession to
the throne--Herbart wooes King Arthur's daughter, first for Theodoric
and then for himself--Hermanric, his uncle, attacks Theodoric--Flight
and exile at the Court of Attila--Attempt to return--Attila's sons slain
in battle--The tragedy of the Nibelungs--Theodoric returns to his
kingdom--His mysterious end.

It is one of the most striking testimonies to the greatness of
Theodoric's work and character, that his name is one of the very few
which passed from history into the epic poetry of the German and
Scandinavian peoples. True, there is scarcely one feature of the great
Ostrogothic King preserved in the mythical portrait painted by minstrels
and Sagamen; true, Theodoric of Verona would have listened in
incredulous or contemptuous amazement to the romantic adventures related
of Dietrich of Bern; still the fact that his name was chosen by the
poets of the early Middle Ages as the string upon which the pearls of
their fantastic imaginations were to be strung, shows how powerfully his
career had impressed their barbaric forefathers. Theodoric's eminence in
this respect, his renown in mediaeval Saga, is shared apparently but by
three other undoubtedly historic personages: his collateral ancestor,
Hermanric; the great world-conqueror, Attila; and Gundahar, king of the
Burgundians, about whom history really records nothing, save his defeat
in battle by the Huns.

As it would be a hopeless attempt in a short chapter like the present to
discuss the various allusions to Dietrich von Bern in the Teutonic and
Scandinavian Sagas, I shall invite the reader's attention to one only,
that which concerns itself most exclusively with his life, and which is
generally called the "Wilkina Saga",[160] though some German scholars
prefer to call it by the more appropriate name of "Thidreks Saga".

[Footnote 160: So called because it contains a large number of episodes
as to King Wilkinus, his descendants, and the land known by his name,
Wilkina-land (Norway and Sweden). Some suppose the name to be a
corruption of Viking.]

The earliest manuscripts of this Saga at present known are attributed to
the first half of the thirteenth century. There are many allusions in
the work to other sources of information both written and oral, but the
Saga itself in its present form appears to contain the story of
Theodoric as current in the neighbourhood of Bremen and Muenster,
translated into the old Norse language, and no doubt somewhat modified
by the influence of Scandinavian legends on the mind of the translator.
In its present form it is not a poem but a prose work, and though the
flow of the ballad and the twang of the minstrel's harp still often make
themselves felt even through the dull Latin translation of Johan
Peringskiold, there are many chapters of absolutely unredeemed prose,
full of genealogical details and the marches of armies, as dry as any
history, though purely imaginary.

I will now proceed to give the outline of the story of Theodoric as told
in the "Wilkina Saga", I shall not harass the reader by continual
repetitions of the phrase "It is said", or "It is fabled", but will ask
him to understand once for all that the story so circumstantially told
is a mere romance, having hardly the slenderest connection with the
actual history of Theodoric, or with any other event that has happened
on our planet.

The Knight Samson, the grandfather of Theodoric, was a native of Salerno
and served in the court of Earl Roger, the lord of that city Tall and
dark, with black brows and long, thin face, he was distinguished by
great personal strength, and his ambition was equal to his prowess. Earl
Roger had a most lovely daughter, Hildeswide, to whom Samson dared to
raise his eyes in love. Being sent one day by her father to the tower
where she dwelt, with dainty morsels from his table for her repast, he
persuaded her to mount his servant's horse and ride away with him into
the forest. For this Earl Roger confiscated his possessions and sought
his life. Enraged at the decree of exile and death which had been passed
against him, Samson issued forth from his forest to ravage Earl Roger's
farms. In his return to the forest, being intercepted by the Earl and
sixty of his knights, he was seized with sudden fury, and struck down
the Earl's standard-bearer, dealt so terrible a blow at the Earl that he
lopped off not only his head but that of the steed on which he rode,
slew fifteen knights besides, and then galloped off, himself unwounded,
to the forest where Hildeswide abode. Thus did Salerno lose her lord.

Brunstein, the brother of Earl Roger, sought to avenge his death, but
after two years of desultory warfare was himself surprised in a night
attack by Samson, compelled to flee, overtaken and slain. So Samson went
on and increased in strength, treading down all his enemies; but not
till he had persuaded the citizens of Salerno to accept him as their
lord would he assume the title of king. Then did he send out messengers
to announce to all the other kingdoms of the world his royal dignity. He
governed long and wisely, extending his dominions to the vast regions of
the West (apparently making himself lord of all Italy), and by his wife
Hildeswide becoming the father of two sons, whose names were Hermanric
and Dietmar.

After twenty years of wise and peaceful rule, as Samson sat feasting in
his palace he began to lament the decay of energy in himself and his
warriors, and to fear that his name and fame would perish after his
death. He therefore resolved on war with Elsung, Earl of Verona, and to
that end despatched six ambassadors with this insulting message: "Send
hither thy daughter to be the concubine of my youngest son. Send sixty
damsels with her, and sixty noble youths each bringing two horses and a
servant. Send sixty hawks and sixty retrievers, whose collars shall be
of pure gold, and let the leash with which they are bound be made of
hairs out of thine own white beard. Do this, or in three months prepare
for war".

This insolent demand produced the expected result. Elsung ordered the
leader of the embassy to be hung. Four of his companions were beheaded.
The sixth, having had his right hand lopped off, was sent back with no
other answer to Salerno. When he reached that city, Samson appeared to
treat the matter as of no importance and went on with his hunting and
hawking and all the amusements of a peaceful court. He was, however,
quietly making his preparations for war, and at the end of three months,
at the head of an army of 15,000 men, commanded by three under-kings and
many dukes he burst into the territories of Earl Elsung who had only
10,000 men, drawn from Hungary and elsewhere, with whom to meet his
powerful foe. There was great slaughter on the battle-plain. Then the
two chiefs met in single combat. Elsung inflicted a wound on Samson, but
Samson cut off Elsung's head and clutching it by the hoary locks
exhibited it in triumph to his men. The utter rout of the Veronese army
followed. Samson went in state to Verona, received the submission of the
citizens and laid hands on the splendid treasure of Earl Elsung. He
then celebrated with great pomp the marriage of Odilia, the daughter of
the slain earl, to his second son Dietmar, whom he made lord of Verona
and all the territory which had been Elsung's. He marched next toward
"Romaborg" (Rome) intending to make his eldest son, Hermanric, lord of
that city, but died on the journey. Hermanric, however, after many
battles with the Romans achieved the desired conquest, and became Lord
of Romaborg and the country round it, even to the Hellespont and the
isles of Greece.

Dietmar, son of Samson, King of Verona, was brave, prudent, and greatly
loved by the folk over whom he ruled. His wife Odilia was one of the
wisest of women. Their eldest son was named Theodoric, and he, when full
grown, though not one of the race of giants, surpassed all ordinary men
in stature. His face was oval, of comely proportions; he had gray eyes,
with black brows above them; his hair was of great beauty, long and
thick and ending in ruddy curls. He never wore a beard. His shoulders
were two ells broad; his arms were as thick as the trunk of a tree and
as hard as a stone. He had strong, well-proportioned hands. The middle
of his body was of a graceful tapering shape, but his loins and hips
were wondrously strong; his feet beautiful and well-proportioned; his
thighs of enormous bigness. His strength was much beyond the ordinary
strength of men. The size of Theodoric's body was equalled by the
qualities of his mind. He was not only brave but jovial, good-tempered,
liberal, magnificent, always ready to bestow gold and silver and all
manner of precious things on his expectant friends. It was the saying of
some that the young warrior was like his grandfather, Samson; but
others held that there was never any one in the world to compare unto
Theodoric. When he had attained the fifteenth year of his age he was
solemnly created a knight by his father, Dietmar.

Now, while Theodoric was still a child there came to his father's court
one who was to have a great influence on his after life. This was
Hildebrand, commonly called Master Hildebrand, son of one of the Dukes
of Venice. He was a brave knight and a mighty one, and when he had
reached the age of thirty he told his father that he would fain see more
of the world than he could do by lingering all his days at Venice. Upon
which his father recommended him to try his fortune at the court of
Dietmar, King of Verona. He came therefore and was received very
graciously by Dietmar, who conferred great favours upon him and assigned
to him the care of the young Theodoric then about seven years of age.
Hildebrand taught Theodoric all knightly exercises; together they ever
rode to war, and the friendship which grew up between them was strong as
that which knit the soul of David to the soul of Jonathan.

One day when Theodoric and Hildebrand were hunting in the forest, a
little dwarf ran across their path, to which Theodoric gave chase. This
dwarf proved to be Alpris, the most thievish little creature in the
world. Theodoric was about to kill it, but Alpris said: "If you will
spare my life I will get you the finest sword that ever was made, and
will show you where to find more treasure than ever your father owned.
They belong to a little woman called Hildur and her husband Grimur. He
is so strong that he can fight twelve men at once, but she is much
stronger than he, and you will need all your strength if you mean to
overcome them". Having bound himself by tremendous oaths to perform
these promises, the dwarf was dismissed unhurt, and the two comrades
went on with their hunting. At evening they stood beside the rock where
Alpris was to meet them. The dwarf brought the sword, and pointed out
the entrance to a cave. The two knights gazed upon the sword with
wonder, agreeing that they had never seen anything like it in the world.
And no marvel, for this was the famous sword Nagelring, the fame whereof
went out afterwards into the whole world. They tied up their horses and
went together into the cave. Grimur, seeing strangers, at once
challenged them to fight; but looking round anxiously for Nagelring, he
missed it, whereupon he cursed the knavish Alpris, who had assuredly
stolen it from him. However, he snatched from the hearth the blazing
trunk of a tree and therewith attacked Theodoric. Meanwhile Hildebrand,
taken at unawares, was caught hold of by Hildur, who clung so tightly
round his neck that he could not move. After a long struggle they both
fell heavily to the ground, Hildebrand below, Hildur on top of him. She
squeezed his arms so tightly that the blood came out at his
finger-nails; she pressed her fist so hard on his throat and breast that
he could hardly breathe. He was fain to cry for help to Theodoric, who
answered that he would do all in his power to save his faithful friend
and tutor from the clutches of that foul little wench. With that he
swung round Nagelring and smote off the head of Grimur. Then he hastened
to his foster-father's aid and cut Hildur in two, but so mighty was the
power of her magic that the sundered halves of her body came together
again. Once more Theodoric clove her in twain; once more the severed
parts united. Hereupon quoth Hildebrand: "Stand between the sundered
limbs with your body bowed and your head averted, and the monster will
be overcome". So did Theodoric, once more cleaving her body in twain and
then standing between the pieces. One half died at once, but that to
which the head belonged was heard to say: "If the Fates had willed that
Grimur should fight Theodoric as toughly as I fought Hildebrand, the
victory had been ours". With these words the brave little woman died.

Hildebrand congratulated his pupil on his glorious victory, and they
then proceeded to despoil the cave of its treasures. One of the chief of
these was a helmet of wonderful strength, the like of which Theodoric
had never seen before. It was made by the dwarf Malpriant, and so
greatly had the strange couple prized it that they had given it their
united names Hildegrimur. This helmet guarded Theodoric's head in many a
fierce encounter, and by its help and that of the sword Nagelring he
gained many a victory. Bright was the renown which he won from this deed
of arms.

So great was the fame of the young hero that striplings from distant
lands, thirsting for glory, came to Dietmar's court that they might be
enrolled among the comrades of Theodoric. There were twelve of these
who, when they came to manhood, were especially distinguished as the
chiefs of his army, and among these Theodoric shone pre-eminent, even as
his contemporary, Arthur, king of Bertangenland,[161] among the Knights
of his Table Round.

[Footnote 161: Britain.]

But there were two of these comrades, friendly to Theodoric, though by
no means friendly to one another, who were more renowned than any of the
rest for their knightly deeds and strange adventures. These were Witig
and Heime, each of whom, having first fought with Theodoric, was
afterwards for many years his loyal and devoted knight.

Heime was the son of a great horse-breeder who dwelt north of the
mountains, and whose name was Studas. He was short and squat of figure
and square of face, but was all made for strength; and he was churlish
and morose of disposition, wherefore men called him Heime (which was the
name of a strong and venomous serpent), instead of Studas, which was of
right his name as well as his father's. One day Heime, having mounted
his famous grey horse Rispa, and girded on his good sword Blutgang,
announced to his father that he would ride southward over the mountains
to Verona, and there challenge Theodoric to a trial of strength. Studas
tried to dissuade his son, telling him that his presumption would cost
him his life; but Heime answered: "Thy life and thy calling are base and
inglorious, and I would rather die than plod on in this ignoble round.
But, moreover, I think not to fall by the hand of Theodoric. He is
scarce twelve winters old, and I am sixteen; and where is the man with
whom I need fear to fight?" So Heime rode over the rough mountain ways,
and appearing in the court-yard of the palace at Verona, challenged
Theodoric to fight. Indignant at the challenge, but confident of
victory, Theodoric went forth to the encounter, having donned his iron
shoes, his helmet and coat of mail, and taking his great thick shield,
red as blood, upon which a golden lion ramped, and above all, his good
sword Nagelring.

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