I finished Volume II of Gibbon’s Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire this morning, which ends on a characteristically ominous note. The Emperor Theodosius is holding a feast for his dangerous and divided subjects, the Goths—recent immigrants and refugees, pushed toward the empire by the invasion of the Huns and finally admitted by the Emperor Valens—who split their allegiance between Fravitta “a valiant and honorable youth,” and “the fierce and faithless Priulf.” Here’s what happens: 

“…When the chiefs of both parties were invited to the Imperial table, they were insensibly heated by wine, till they forgot the usual restraints of discretion and respect; and betrayed, in the presence of Theodosius, the fatal secret of their domestic disputes. The emperor, who had been the reluctant witness of this extraordinary controversy, dissembled his fears and resentment, and soon dismissed the tumultuous assembly. Fravitta, alarmed and exasperated by the insolence of his rival, whose departure from the palace might have been the signal of a civil war, boldly followed him; and, drawing his sword, laid Priulf dead at his feed. Their companions flew to arms; and the faithful champion of Rome would have been oppressed by superior numbers, if he had not been protected by the seasonable interposition of the Imperial guards. Such were the scenes of Barbaric rage, which disgraced the palace and table of the Roman emperor; and, as the impatient Goths could only be restrained by the firm and temperate character of Theodosius, the public safety seemed to depend on the life and abilities of a single man.”

You can guess how that will turn out.