"Nothing, my King; nothing of importance, my father." "What! secrets from me? By my crown! Wilt thou govern while I still breathe? I hear the sound of strange tongues outside. Open the doors!" The doors which divided the outer hall from the ante-room were thrown open. There, in the midst of a number of Goths and Romans, were to be seen several strange and dwarfish forms, clothed in a curious costume, with doublets of wolfskin, pointed caps, and shaggy sheep-skins hanging down their backs. Surprised and impressed by the sudden apparition of the King, they sank upon their knees. "Ah, messengers from the Avarians! Those robber border-ruffians on our eastern boundaries! Have you brought the owing yearly tribute?" "Sire, once again we bring it: skins, woollen carpets, swords, shields. There they hang--there they lie. But we hope that next year--we will see----" "You will see whether the aged Theodoric has become a dotard? You hoped that I was dead? You think that you can refuse the tribute to my successor? You err, spies!" And he took up, as if proving its worth, one of the swords which the messengers had laid at his feet, together with its sheath, held it firmly by hilt and point, and with a slight effort snapped the steel in two, and threw the pieces on the ground. "The Avari carry worthless swords," he said quietly. "Come, Athalaric, heir to my kingdom. They do not believe that thou canst bear the weight of my crown. Show them how thou canst throw my spear." The youth bounded to him. The scarlet hue of ambition flushed his pale face. He swung the heavy spear of his grandfather, and hurled it with such force at a shield which the messengers had leaned against one of the wooden pillars, that it completely pierced it and penetrated deeply into the wood. The King laid his left hand on the head of his grandchild, and said proudly to the messengers: "Now go, and tell at home what you have seen." He turned away; the outer doors were closed, and shut out the amazed Avarians. "Give me a cup of wine. It may possibly be the last! No, unmixed! In Germanic fashion--" he repulsed the Grecian physician. "Thanks, old Hildebrand, for this draught, so faithfully given. I drink prosperity to the Goths!" He slowly emptied the goblet; and with a hand yet firm and strong he replaced it on the marble table. But suddenly, like a flash of lightning, that which the physicians had long expected took place. He staggered, pressed his hand to his heart, and fell backwards into Hildebrand's arms; who, slowly kneeling down, let him gently slide on to the marble pavement, supporting his helm-crowned head. For one moment all present held their breath; but the King did not move, and, with a loud cry, Athalaric threw himself upon the corpse. CHAPTER VIII.