Many beakers were drunk, and the conversation at table grew more and more unfriendly, for Künemund, the king’s eldest son, was angry and jealous at a stranger being given his place beside the king. To prevent further disagreement, Thurisind sent for the minstrels to come and enliven the company. They came. They sang the glorious deeds of their forefathers, and especially those done by Aldarich, who destroyed the power of the Huns. Lastly, they called upon the young men before them to follow in the footsteps of their ancestors, careless whether Fortune rewarded their efforts or not. “Yes,” said Künemund when the song was ended, “Fortune is blind and throws her favours at the feet of mean-spirited creatures with white bands round their knees, that make them look for all the world like white-legged hacks, and every one knows it takes a deal of beating to make them go!” The Langobards always wore the white bands alluded to, so they knew that the scornful words were directed against them. Alboin’s blood was up in a moment. He started to his feet and told Künemund to go to the place where he had fought his brother, and there he would see how shrewdly the “white-legged hacks” could kick. A tumult immediately arose, which was with difficulty calmed by the old king, who then gave Alboin the armour he had craved, and sent him away with his followers without loss of time, lest worse should come of it, and the rights of hospitality be broken. As Alboin rode away he passed Rosamund, Künemund’s fair little daughter, who was playing at shuttlecock with her maidens, and as he passed he looked at her long and earnestly. ROSAMUND. Peace lasted between the Langobards and Gepidæ while the old kings Audoin and Thurisind lived, but after their death a bloody feud broke out between the rival tribes. At length Künemund and many of the noblest Gepidæ fell under the axes of Alboin and his people. Upon which the Langobardian king had his enemy’s skull set as a goblet in a silver rim, and used it for drinking solemn toasts at the great feasts. Then he married Rosamund, and she, poor soul, hated him as the murderer of her father. She had to feign love, though she would willingly have strangled her husband with her own hands. She bore her lot as well as might be, all the while nursing the secret hope that she might one day avenge her father’s death.