tter 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.

CHAPTER XIII.

The Goths turned in astonishment, and saw a troop of horsemen hurrying
down the hill in the direction of the place of justice.

The sun flashed upon the armed figures with such dazzling brilliancy
that they could not be recognised, although they approached rapidly.

But old Hildebrand rose up in his elevated seat, shaded his eagle eyes
with his hand, and at once exclaimed:

"Those are Gothic weapons! The waving banner bears the figure of the
scales: that is the crest of Earl Witichis! and there he is himself at
the head of the troop! and the