Splendidly rose the sun out of the sea the next morning. Its beams glittered upon the shining weapons of many thousand Gothic warriors, who crowded the wide levels of Regeta.

From all the provinces of the kingdom they had hastened by groups, in families, often with wife and child, to be present at the great muster which took place every autumn.

Such an Assembly was at once a splendid feast, and the highest national solemnity. Originally, in heathen times, its immediate intention had been the grand feast of sacrifice, which, twice a year, at the winter and the summer solstice, had united all branches of the nation in honour of their common gods; to this were added a market and exchange of goods, exercises of arms, and the review of the army. The Assembly had the power of the highest jurisdiction, and the final decision as to peace, war, and political relations with other states.

And even now, in the Christian time, when the King had acquired many a right which once belonged to the people, the National Assembly possessed a high solemnity, although its ancient heathen significance was forgotten.

The remains of the old liberties of the people, which even the powerful Theodoric had not contested, revived under his weak descendants.

A majority of free Goths had still to pronounce sentence, and to award punishment, even though the King's Earl conducted the proceedings in his name, and fulfilled the sentence.

Often already had Germanic nations themselves accused, judged, and executed their kings, on account of treachery, murder, or other heavy crimes, before a Free Assembly of the people.

In the proud consciousness that he was his own master, and served none, not even the King, beyond the limit of freedom, the German went in full armour to the "Ting," where he felt himself safe and strong in union with his fellows, and saw the liberties, strength, and honour of himself and his countrymen represented in living pictures before his eyes.

To the Assembly of which we now speak, the Goths had been attracted by peculiarly strong reasons. When the summons to meet at Regeta was published, the war with Byzantium was expected or already declared; the nation rejoiced at the coming struggle with their hated enemy, and were glad to muster their forces beforehand. This time the Assembly was to be, more than ever, a grand review.

Besides this, most of the Goths in the adjacent places knew that judgment was to be passed on the murderers of the daughter of Theodoric, and the great excitement caused by this treacherous act had also contributed to draw the people to Regeta.

While a portion of those assembled had been received by friends and relatives in the nearest villages, great numbers had--already some days before the formal opening of the Assembly--encamped in light tents and huts upon the wide plain, two hundred and eighty stadii distant from Rome.

At the earliest dawn of day these groups were already in noisy movement, and employed the time during which they were yet masters of the place, in various games and pastimes.

Some swam and bathed in the clear waters of the rapid river Ufen (or "Decemnovius," thus named because it flowed into the sea at Terracina, nineteen miles off), which crossed the plain. Others displayed their skill in leaping over whole rows of outstretched spears, or, almost naked, in dancing amid brandished swords, while others again--and these the fleetest-footed--clinging to the manes of their horses, kept step with their swiftest gallop, and when arrived at the goal, securely swung themselves upon their unsaddled backs.

"What a pity," cried young Gudila, who was the first to arrive at the goal in one of these races, and now stroked his yellow locks out of his eyes, "what a pity that Totila is not present! He is the best rider in the nation, and has always beaten me. But now, with this horse, I would try again with him."

"I am glad that he is not here," said Gunthamund, who had arrived second, "else I had scarcely won the first prize in hurling the lance yesterday."

"Yes," said Hilderich, a stately young warrior in a jingling suit of mail, "Totila is clever at the lance. But black Teja throws still better; he can tell you beforehand which rib he will hit."

"Pshaw!" grumbled Hunibad, an elderly man, who had looked critically at the performance of the youths, "all that is only play. In bloody earnest the sword is the only weapon that serves a man at the last, when death so presses on him from all sides that he has no space for throwing. And for that I praise Earl Witichis, of FÆsulÆ! He is my man! What a breaking of skulls was there in the war with the GepidÆ! The man cleaved through steel and leather as if it were dry straw! He is still more valiant than my own duke, Guntharis the WÖlfung, in Florentia. But what do you youngsters know about it?--Look! the first arrivals are coming down the hill. Up! let us go to meet them!"

And now people came streaming in on all the roads; on foot, on horseback, and in wagons. A noisy and turbulent crowd filled all the plain.

On the shores of the river, where stood most of the tents, the horses were unharnessed, and the wagons pushed together to form a barricade. Through the lanes of the camp the ever-increasing crowd now streamed. There friends and acquaintances, who had not met for years, sought and greeted each other.

It was a gay and chequered scene, for the old Germanic equality had long since disappeared from the kingdom.

There stood near the aristocratic noble, who had settled in one of the rich Italian towns, who lived in the palaces of senatorial families, and had adopted the more luxuriant and polite customs of the Italians; near the duke or earl from Mediolanum or Ticinum, who wore a shoulder-belt of purple silk across his richly-gilt armour; near such a dainty lord towered some rough, gigantic Gothic peasant, who lived in the thick oak-forests on the Margus in Moesia, or who had fought the wolf in the forests by the rushing Œnus for the ragged skin which he carried over his bear-like shoulders, and whose harsh-sounding speech struck strangely on the ear of his half-Romanised companion.

There came strong and war-hardened men from the distant Augusta Vindelicorum on the Licus, who day and night defended the rotten walls of that outermost northern fortress of the Gothic kingdom against the wild Suevi.

And here were peaceful shepherds from Dacia, who, possessing neither field nor house, wandered with their flocks from pasture to pasture, still living in the manner introduced into the West by their ancestors from Asia a thousand years ago.

There was a rich Goth, who, in Rome or Ravenna, had married the daughter of some Italian moneychanger, and had soon learned to do business like his father-in-law, and reckon his profits by thousands.

And here stood a poor Alpine shepherd, who drove his meagre goats on to the meagre pastures near the noisy Isarcus, and who erected his hut of planks close to the den of the bear.

So differently had the die been cast for the thousands who were here met together, since their fathers had followed the call of the great Theodoric to the West, away from the valleys of the HÆmus.

But still they felt that they were brothers, the sons of one nation; they spoke the same proud language, they had the same golden locks, the same snowy skins, the same light and sparkling eyes, and--above all--the same feeling in their hearts: "We stand as victors on the ground that our fathers forced from the Roman Empire, and which we will defend to the death."

Like an immense swarm of bees the masses hummed and buzzed, greeting each other, seeking old acquaintances and concluding new friendships; and the chaotic tumult seemed as if it would never end.

But suddenly the peculiar long-drawn tones of the Gothic horn were heard from the crown of the hill, and at once the storm of the thousand voices was laid.

All eyes were eagerly turned in the direction of the hill, from which a procession of venerable men now approached.

It was formed of half a hundred men in white and flowing mantles, their heads crowned with ivy, carrying white staffs and ancient stone axes. They were the sajones or soldiers of the tribunal, whose office it was to carry out the ceremonial forms of opening, warding, and closing the "Ting."

Arrived on the plain, they greeted with a triple long-drawn flourish the assembly of free warriors; who, after a solemn silence, answered with the clash and clang of their arms.

The ban-officers shortly began their work.

They divided to the right and left, and enclosed the whole wide field with red woollen cords, which they wound round hazel staffs fixed into the earth at every twenty steps; accompanying this action with the repetition of ancient songs and sayings.

Exactly opposite the rising and setting of the sun, the woollen cords were raised over the shafts of tall lances, so that they formed the two gates of the now completely enclosed "Ting-place;" and these entrances were guarded by soldiers with drawn swords, in order to keep all strangers and women at a distance.

When all was arranged, the two oldest of the men stepped beneath the spear-gates and called in a loud voice:

"According to ancient Gothic custom
Is the fence erected.
Now, with God's help,
The judgment may begin."

After the pause which ensued, there arose a low murmur amongst the crowd, which gradually grew into a loud, and, at last, almost deafening uproar of questioning, disputing, and doubting voices.

It had been already remarked, as the procession advanced, that it was not, as usual, led by the Earl who was accustomed to hold and conduct the "Ting" in the name and ban of the King. But it had been expected that this representative of the King would make his appearance during the ceremony of enclosing the place. When, therefore, this work was accomplished, and the sentence of the old men called for the commencement of the tribunal, and still no earl or officer had appeared, who alone could pronounce the opening speech, the attention of all present was directed to this deficiency, so difficult to be supplied.

While everywhere the people asked and sought for the Earl, or some representative of the King, it was remembered that the King himself had announced that he would appear in person before his people, to defend himself and his Queen against the heavy accusation brought against them.

But when the leaders of the people now sought for the friends and partisans of the King, to question them concerning him, they discovered the suspicious fact--which, till now, had been overlooked in the confusion of general greetings--that not one of the numerous relations, friends or servants of the royal family, whose duty, privilege, and interest it was to appear in support of the accused, were present at the meeting, although they had been seen in numbers, a few days ago, in the streets and neighbourhood of Rome.

This circumstance excited surprise and suspicion; and for some time it seemed as if, in consequence of the tumult caused by this singular fact and the absence of the Earl, the formal commencement of the whole proceedings would be rendered impossible.

Many speakers had already tried in vain to gain a hearing.

All at once, from the middle of the crowd, a sound was heard, similar to the battle-cry of some fearful monster, which drowned all other noises.

All eyes were turned in the direction whence the sound proceeded, and in the middle of the place, leaning against a lofty ilex-tree, was seen the tall form of a man, who shouted the Gothic war-cry into the hollow of his bronze shield, which he held before his mouth.

As the shield dropped, it discovered the powerful face of old Hildebrand, whose eyes seemed to flash fire.

Enthusiastic applause greeted the appearance of the old and well-known master-at-arms of the great Theodoric, who, like his master, had, by means of song and proverb, become a mythic figure amongst the Goths while still living.

As the applause died away the old man commenced:

"Good Goths! my brave brothers! It troubles and surprises you that you see no Earl, and no representative of the man who wears your crown. Do not let it disturb you! If the King thinks thereby to interrupt this meeting, he is mistaken. I still remember old times, and I tell you, the people can judge what is right without the King, and hold the tribunal without the King's Earl. You are all grown up amongst new manners and customs, but there stands old Haduswinth, scarcely a few winters younger than myself; he will bear me witness that power is with the people alone; the Gothic nation is free!"

"Yes! we are free!" cried a thousand voices.

"If the King does not send his Earl, we will choose our 'Ting-Earl' ourselves," cried the grey-haired Haduswinth; "right and justice existed before King and Earl! And who knows the old customs of the nation better than Hildebrand, son of Hilding? Hildebrand shall be our Ting-Earl!"

"Yes!" was echoed on all sides; "Hildebrand shall be our Ting-Earl!"

"You have chosen me," now said Hildebrand, "and I count myself as well elected as if King Theodahad had given me a warrant in letter and parchment. And my ancestors for centuries have often held tribunals for the Goths. Come, sajones, help me to open the Assembly."

In front of the oak there still lay the ruins of an ancient fane of the wood-god Picus; the sajones cleared the place, piled up the broadest stones, and leaned two square slabs to the right and left against the trunks of the oak, so that a stately seat of justice was thus formed. And so before the altar of the old Italic sylvan god, the Gothic Earl held a tribunal.

Other sajones threw a wide blue woollen mantle with a broad white collar over Hildebrand's shoulders, and gave him an ashen staff, curved at the top. At his left hand, on the branches of the oak, they hung a shining shield of burnished steel, and then placed themselves in two groups on his right and on his left. The old man struck the shield with his staff till it rung loudly. Then he seated himself with his face to the east and began:

"I enjoin silence, ban, and peace! I enjoin right and forbid wrong, quick anger, biting words, ready blows, and everything which can offend the peace of the Ting. And I ask: is it the year and day, the time and hour, the place and spot in which to hold a free tribunal of Gothic men?"

The Goths who stood the nearest stepped forward and answered in chorus:

"Here is the right place, under the wide sky, under the rustling oak; now is the right time, with a climbing sun, to hold a free tribunal of Gothic men on the sword-won soil of our Gothic inheritance."

"We are assembled," continued old Hildebrand, "to decide upon two cases: an accusation of murder against Gothelindis the Queen, and of cowardice and negligence, in this time of great danger, against Theodahad our King. I ask----"

But his speech was interrupted by the loud flourish of horns, which sounded nearer and nearer from the west.