"Stop!" cried the boy angrily; "thou shalt not come down there. At him,
Gruffo! At him, Wulfo! And if thou art not afraid of the two young
ones, I will call the old one! Then take care! Hey! Thursa! Thursa!
stop him!"
At this cry an immense bristly grey wolf-hound darted round the corner
of the stable with a furious bark, and was about to spring at the
intruder's throat. But she had scarcely reached the fence, when her
rage was suddenly changed into joy; she ceased to bark, and, wagging
her tail, sprang up to the old man, who now climbed leisurely down.
"Yes, yes, Thursa, faithful bitch, we remember each other," he said.
"Now tell me, little man, what is thy name?"
"I am called Athalwin," answered the boy, retreating shyly; "but
thou--I believe thou hast bewitched the dog--what art thou called?"
"Like thee," said the old man, in a more friendly manner; "I am glad
thou hast my name. But be quiet; I am no robber! Lead me to thy mother,
that I may tell her how bravely thou hast defended thy home."
And so the two adversaries walked peacefully into the house, Thursa
leaping on in front with joyful barks.
The Gothic housewife had changed, with slight alteration, the
Corinthian atrium of this Roman villa, with its rows of pillars on four
sides, into the hall of the Germanic dwelling.
In the absence of her husband it was not wanted for gay hospitality,
and Rauthgundis had brought her maids here from the women's room, to
enjoy the larger space and fresher air.
There sat a long row of Gothic maidens with their noisy spindles;
opposite to them a few Roman women slaves, occupied in finer work.
In the middle of the hall walked Rauthgundis, and let her own
swiftly-turning spindle dance upon the smooth mosaic pavement, at the
same time turning frequently to look at the maids.
Her dark-blue dress of home manufacture was gathered up above one knee,
and puffed out over a belt of steel rings, which, her only ornament,
bore a bunch of keys.
Her auburn hair was combed, back from the brow and temples, and twined
into a simple knot at the back of the head.
There was much simple dignity in her aspect as she paced the room with
grave and examining looks. She went up to one of the youngest of the
maids, who sat lowest in the row, and bent over her.
"Well done, Liuta," she said; "thy thread is smooth, and thou hast not
so often looked up at the door to-day. Certainly," she added with a
smile, "there is not much merit in that, as Wachis cannot enter."
The young girl blushed.
Rauthgundis laid her hand kindly upon her smooth hair.
"I know," she said, "that thou art angry with me in secret, because I
made thee, the betrothed, work all this year an hour longer, morning
and evening, than the other maids. It was cruel, was it not? Well, see!
it was for thine own good. All that thou hast spun this year of my best
flax is thine; I give it thee for thy new household. Then thou wilt not
need to spin next year, the first of thy married life."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account