with the Romans at last. The Roman was astride of him, and of all
Teutons, like Sindbad's old man of the sea. The only question, as with
Sindbad, was whether he should get drunk, and give them a chance of
throwing the perfidious tyrant. And now the time was come. He was
compelled to ask himself, not--what shall I be in relation to myself: but
what shall I be in relation to the Kaiser of the Romans--a mercenary, a
slave, or a conqueror--for one of the three I must be?

So it went on, year after year--sometimes with terrible reverses for
Dietrich, till the year 480. Then the old One-eyed died, in a strange
way. Mounting a wild horse at the tent-door, the beast reared before he
could get his seat; afraid of pulling it over by the curb, he let it go.
A lance, in Gothic fashion, was hanging at the tent-door, and the horse
plunged the One-eyed against it. The point went deep into his side, and
the old fighting man was at rest for ever.

And then came a strange peripeteia for the Amal. Zeno, we know not why,
sent instantly for him. He had been ravaging, pursuing, defeating Roman
troops, or being defeated by them. Now he must come to Rome. His Goths
should have the Lower Danube. He should have glory and honour to spare.
He came. His ideal, at this time, seems actually to have been to live
like a Roman citizen in Constantinople, and help to govern the Empire.
Recollect, he was still little more than five and twenty years old.

So he went to Constantinople, and I suppose with him the faithful mother,
and faithful sister, who had been with him in all his wanderings. He had
a triumph decreed him at the Emperor's expense, was made Consul
Ordinarius ('which,' saith Jornandes, 'is accounted the highest good and
chief glory in the world') and Master-general, and lodged in the palace.

What did it all mean? Dietrich was dazzled by it, at least for a while.
What it meant, he found out too soon. He was to fight the Emperor's
battles against all rebels, and he fought them, to return irritated,
complaining (justly or unjustly) of plots against his life; to be
pacified, like a child, with the honour of an equestrian statue; then to
sink down into Byzantine luxury for seven inglorious years, with only one
flashing out of the ancient spirit, when he demanded to go alone against
the Bulgars, and killed their king with his own hand.

What woke him from his dream? The cry of his starving people.

The Goths, settled on the l