Was it not true? If young Dietrich had in him (and he shewed that he
had in after years) a Teuton's heart, may not that strange interview
have opened his eyes to his own folly, and taught him that the Teuton
must be his own master, and not the mercenary of the Romans?

The men cried out that it was true. He must make peace with the One-
eyed, or they would do it themselves; and peace was made. They both
sent ambassadors to Zeno; the Amal complaining of treachery; the One-
eyed demanding indemnity for all his losses. The Emperor was
furious. He tried to buy off the Amal by marrying him to a princess
of the blood royal, and making him a Caesar. Dietrich would not
consent; he felt that it was a snare. Zeno proclaimed the One-eyed
an enemy to the Empire; and ended by reinstating him in his old
honours, and taking them from the Amal. The Amal became furious,
burnt villages, slaughtered the peasants, even (the Greeks say) cut
off the hands of his captives. He had broken 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