Ever since the preceding day the rain clouds, which had so long densely veiled the mountain peaks and hung in gray curtains to the shore of the lake, had grown lighter and lighter. Scattered fragments still floated over the forest; but the mists were dispersing from Sentis and Tödi. And before the sun of that day sank behind the wooded heights of the western shore, it burst through the cloud rack for the first time in a long while, illumining lake and country for a few minutes with a blood-red glow. The fishes leaped greedily after the flies which were sunning themselves in the beams and flew feebly, with damp wings, close to the surface of the water: then the radiant ball disappeared behind the long cloud curtain.
The herons flew screaming from the rushes toward the land. The wind seemed to be rising. The clouds swept across the sky, sometimes in one direction, sometimes in another. The waves of the lake, obeying the former course of the wind, rolled in a direction opposite to the clouds above them.
The Batavian mercenaries of the Lower Rhine were encamped outside of the northern gate of the camp, the Porta Prætoria, but a little toward the west. The centurion, a man about forty years old, long in the service of Rome, who was adorned with neck-chains and various badges of honor on his breast-plate bestowed for gallant deeds, was fanning the smoking fire, which they were loath to have die out in the cold damp woods.
"There!" he muttered, "there it goes. I invoked both gods, Vulcan and Loki, in vain. Vulcan won't help me, because I am a Barbarian; Loki because I serve the Romans. We mercenaries no longer have any gods to aid us, because we belong to no nation."
"Ha, Rignomer," laughed another in the group, a youth whose downy red beard was just beginning to grow, "I care for only one god among them all--the god of victory."
"And he, Odin, is the very one who has deserted us, Brinno. Everywhere the Germans are conquering; that is, the peoples who are fighting against Rome, not we German mercenaries, who battle for the Cæsar. And in every conflict the men who bleed are we mercenaries."
"Because these cunning Romans always put us in the place which is most severely threatened," Brinno cried angrily.
"Because Odin is hostile to us," whispered the centurion. "We must no longer fight for Rome against the other Germans. He no longer wills it."
"What do you mean by Germans? That's a word like Barbarians. The Romans invented it, not we. What do I care for these Alemanni? I am a Batavian; a Frank, if you prefer the name."
"Yes, I do prefer it."
"It's newer."
"But stronger, because it is larger."
"What do I care, I ask again, for these thick-skulled Suabians? I can hardly understand what they say."
"But all we blue-eyed, yellow-haired men are sons of the dwellers in Asgard. We have all come here to the great waters front the East. So our forefathers teach us; so the harpers sing. And everywhere, on the Rhine and the Danube, the districts and peoples who formerly had such bitter feuds are gathering. This is Odin's work. He is summoning the descendants of Asgard to war against Rome. This is my last campaign under the dragon standard. In a few days my time of service will expire; then I shall go home and till my land on the Issala, where my mother and my brother and sisters live; till it with a better plough, a Roman one. And if I must fight again, I will fight for my land, against Rome. We Franks have too little room down there in the swamps of the Rhine; we must go into beautiful Gaul."
"Well, this war of the Romans will soon be over. A bloodless victory."
"Who knows?" Here the centurion threw himself on the ground beside Brinno and whispered: "A man from my district, who formerly fought under the Emperor Valentinian by this lake against the Alemanni, told me why in fear and horror he suddenly gave up the service and lost his pay: In a battle the Romans were vanquished.Oneagainst whom no man can lift his hand without forfeiting salvation forever dashed forward on a gray charger at the head of the Alemanni wedge."
"What?" asked Brinno, half incredulously, half timidly: "He--he-- himself?"
Rignomer nodded significantly: "In the form of a white-haired Duke; so runs the legend. When sore peril threatens the dwellers by the lake he descends from the heavenly heights, warns them, conceals them from the eyes of the foe with his dark mantle of clouds; teaches them runes of victory on inaccessible mountains, and bears them suddenly away on the eagle wings of the tempest. Against him I will not fight. I vowed to serve the Imperator against men only. But hark! a tuba signal from our outposts. Whom are our mounted men bringing in?"
"A messenger from the Alemanni, it seems."
"Yes, a leader and two attendants. What a youth! Halt, young hero: if you wish to go into the camp to the General,--only one is permitted to ride in,--I must first cover your eyes. Dismount! You will not? Well then, turn back again."
This was a severe blow to Adalo's hopes. He would so gladly have gazed keenly about him in the Roman camp, scanned ditches, walls, gates, and--two persons within that frowning palisade. He sullenly dismounted. A thick woollen blanket was thrown in loose folds over his head like a huge sack and fastened under his chin: Rignomer took him by the hand and guided him to the gate, where a centurion of the Thracians received the Barbarians' envoy.
Adalo's two companions also dismounted, tied the three horses to the nearest trees, and soon lay chatting with the Batavians. The bad Latin of the frontier, it is true, often had to aid the understanding of the different dialects around the watchfire. With great exertion it had now been rekindled, for it was growing very dark. Suddenly, from the forest path by which the envoys had come, a strange growling was heard which drew nearer and nearer. The whole group, including the two Alemanni, started up in surprise.
"A bear?"
"So near the fire?"
"Slipped through our outposts?"
They seized the spears which stood stacked together. Then a Batavian, laughing loudly, came around the bend of the narrow path, pointing behind him. "Look, comrades! A Sarmatian juggler with a tame she-bear! She dances to his big flute! It's very comical."
A cry of surprise escaped the lips of one of the Alemanni, whose eyes and mouth opened in astonishment: "That's surely--"
But his companion gave him a violent dig in the ribs with his elbow: "A she-bear! Yes. Didn't you ever see one?"
A man in the Sarmatian costume--black sheepskin with the wool turned inside--now stepped into the firelight, leading by a leather thong a large she-bear. Behind him, also clad in sheepskin, limped his boy, probably carrying in his bundle provisions for their journey; he was a poor cripple, who made his way forward slowly with the help of a crutch, and doubtless found it hard either to stand or to walk; for when the third Batavian, shoving him with the handle of his spear, invited him to come nearer to the fire, the poor lad, with a low cry, fell on the grass.
The soldiers, with Roman and German taunts, asked whathecould do. He did not stir.
"You can talk to him a long while," said his master, laughing. "The boy is deaf, and he is sick with fever. He is afraid of people. Let him lie there!"
The lad crept under the thickest underbrush, far away from the flames. He could scarcely be seen from the watchfire; all that was visible was his coal-black curly hair. Taking out a little earthen pot, he poured a few drops of some liquid on his lame foot and rubbed it with his hand.
To Adalo's impatience the time seemed very long--in his wrath he believed the delay intentional--during which he was led through the spacious camp till at last his guide stopped and removed the muffler from his head. He found himself in the Prefect's tent. Ausonius, Bissula's friend, he instantly recognized, with a thrill of anger. A number of other army leaders were standing and sitting around him. They had had plenty of time to assemble while the Barbarian was being guided in bewildering zigzag lines through the streets of tents.
He silently saluted Ausonius (it did not escape his eyes that his foe looked admiringly at him), who motioned to him to sit down on a camp stool. But the youth, with a defiant bearing, remained standing. In vain, gazing around the richly decorated space, Adalo endeavored to discover some trace, not of Bissula herself--that was beyond his hopes--but of some garment or article that belonged to her. Nothing was to be seen except arms and papyrus rolls.
"You understand the language of Rome, since you have come without an interpreter?" Ausonius began.
Adalo nodded.
"Be welcome! We expected such a messenger. You desire peace?"
The young hero angrily flung back his handsome head so that his long locks rested on his shoulders, and answered with flashing eyes: "I offer to let you depart unmolested."
"Ha, insolent Barbarian!" cried Herculanus.
But Saturninus wrathfully motioned to him to keep silence, and then asked very quietly: "Are we surrounded?"
"Not yet; but only because we did not desire it."
Saturninus cast a significant glance at the Prefect.
"Boasting!" replied the latter in Greek.
"And why haven't you destroyed us yet?" sneered Herculanus.
"The result, Roman, is in the hands of the gods. We have not attacked because we, who do not fear battle, but rather--you know well--love it, this time desire peace; or our wise leaders, who think further than my comrades, desire it. The great league of the Alemanni wishes to end forever by a treaty not only this campaign but the whole war with you, which for generations has been burning or at least smouldering: we wish not a truce, but peace with Rome."
"Is this your idea, youth?" asked Saturninus, searchingly.
"I have already said it is the choice of our wise leaders, among whom I am not numbered. But I, too, perceive that intercourse with you across the frontiers, when the spears are leaning in the hall, will bring to our people many benefits. We have already learned much from watching you; we must learn still more."
"But why," interposed Ausonius, "if you perceive this, have you for centuries broken every armistice, every treaty? You Germans boast of fidelity as one of the virtues of your race, and we must praise the loyal service of your mercenaries under our standards. Why, here on the frontiers, are all your tribes of many names, Alemanni and Franks, Goths and Quadi and Marcomanni, the same in this unfaithfulness? Why, year after year, do you continually break peace and compact? Our cohorts, constantly compelled to wade through your forest marshes, upbraid you with fierce hatred as the falsest of the peoples. Why do you continually break over our frontiers, like a forest stream?"
"Like a forest stream! You have uttered the right words, though probably without knowing it. I will not answer that often we are not the breakers of the treaties, but, perhaps against the Emperor's will, your army leaders, your frontier officials. In defiance of the treaty they build citadels on our free land, and the supplies which, according to the treaties, you owe us, are withheld: especially the grain."
"Why," asked Saturninus eagerly, rising from his seat, "do you not raise for yourselves the grain you need?"
"We cannot. There is not land enough for our increasing population. The gods multiply our numbers wonderfully: it must be their will that we should grow and overflow our boundaries. Hundreds, nay, thousands of our young men emigrate every year to serve you as mercenaries and frontier guards. We often send forth a third of our young people, chosen by lot, to seek a new home where the flight of the birds and the will of the gods directs them: but all this does not avail."
"Then," Saturninus questioned, speaking more to himself than to the envoy, "it is not mere wantonness?"
"Do you think that mere wantonness would have driven, from the days of our earliest ancestors (the legends have treasured it loyally, sadly, and proudly) our almost naked heroes upon the spears of your mailed legions? Nay, had it been we youths only, we would always rather win what we need by blood--the foe's or our own--than by toiling with the plough. But do you believe that, from mere wantonness, whole nations, with their women and children, their men and maid-servants, their herds and wagons, would constantly press across your frontiers southward and westward; not as a warlike band on a foray in quest of booty, but on a weary pilgrimage, pressing forward because pressed by others, pushing because being pushed from the south and the east by other Germans and by Sarmatians; not quitting the old home, but maintaining it by those left behind till they too were obliged to yield--do you believe that mere wantonness has so often lured these hundreds of thousands to and beyond your frontiers, usually to certain destruction? Oh, no. It is not wantonness that impels us, but the most powerful of all the goddesses--Necessity. A man utters her name unwillingly; for the woman with the iron girdle is the only inexorable deity; she is the mother of the three Fates, who also revere her, and she often strangles with her iron girdle the mortals who mention her carelessly. Beware, Romans! Before our faces stands only your Empire, one mighty in military power, it is true, but behind us threatens and urges the terrible mother of the Norns. We have no choice. The country has become too narrow; we must, come what may, pour out of the old bed in roaring torrents. Therefore, clever Roman, you speak aptly of a forest stream. Believe me: we shall continually break over your frontiers, no matter how strongly they may be guarded with men and walls, until either all we countless German tribes are destroyed or until we have gained land enough to live upon. Not until then will there be peace."
The words uttered by Adalo, evidently from sincere belief, and with warm feeling, produced a deep impression. Herculanus shrugged his shoulders scornfully. Saturninus, with a grave face, gazed silently into vacancy--into the future. After a long pause, Ausonius found words:
"I have never seen that side of the question. Is this your wisdom?"
"I say once more, it is the wisdom of our wise men; Duke Hariowald taught me. But the necessity of our people cries so loudly that even an inexperienced youth must understand its call: Land or destruction! So, in the name of our whole league of peoples, I ask (we Alemanni yield in courage to no race on earth), do you wish to gain us, our spears, forever against all your enemies, especially the false Franks, our evil neighbors and yours? Do you desire that?"
The Romans listened intently; no one interrupted him in his appeal.
"Well, there is a way, but only one." He paused.
"Speak," urged Saturninus eagerly.
"Vacate all the land which you still occupy but can hold only by constant fighting, the country northward between this lake and the right bank of the Rhine to where the Main empties into it beneath your stronghold of Mogontiacum, and all the region south of the lake to the chain of the Cisalpine region."
"Insolent fellow!" shouted Herculanus. The other army leaders also did not spare words of wrath. "Not bad!" said Ausonius, smiling. Saturninus alone was silent; he was thinking how the great military hero, Aurelian, had given up, in a manner very similar to the way asked here, Trajan's proud conquest, Dacia, and thereby, for a long time, pacified the Goths on the Danube.
But Adalo continued: "Do it, do it half voluntarily; do it for the most valuable compensation; for I tell you, it must be done very soon. Then it will be exacted without compensation in return. Do it willingly; for there is a proud prediction current among our people: the Alemanni will some day pasture their horses from the snows of the Alps to the woods of the Vosges."
Ausonius rose indignantly. "Not another word! For our sole answer take to your people the old Roman war-cry, 'Woe to the Barbarians!'"
"Woe to the Barbarians!" repeated the army leaders, with loud shouts.
"Before I go," said the youth,--he struggled fiercely to subdue the agitation, the terrible anxiety which now sent a tremor through every limb,--"listen to another message. You have captured a daughter of our people." Six eyes were bent upon him with the keenest attention. "I am commissioned to ransom her." In spite of every effort to appear calm and cold his voice trembled.
"Are you Bissula's relative? She has no brother," said Ausonius suspiciously.
"Or her lover?" asked Herculanus.
The youth's face flamed, his brow knit wrathfully. "Neither her kinsman nor her betrothed lover. I am commissioned--I have already said so--to ransom her. Name the price."
Ausonius was about to utter a refusal, but Saturninus hastily anticipated him.
"You would pay any price as ransom?"
"Any."
"Is she a princess or a noble's daughter, that your people set so high a value upon her liberty?"
"She is a free maiden of our people, and has as much right to our protection as a queen."
"Well, your protection has been of little service to her," cried Herculanus, laughing.
"I will give her weight in silver, nay, if needful, in gold--her full weight."
"Pshaw!" replied Ausonius, smiling, "that isn't saying much. The little one doesn't weigh heavily. Don't trouble yourself: I will not release her."
"Pardon me, Prefect," said Saturninus quietly, yet without averting his eyes an instant from Adalo, "I must again remind you that the Barbarian girl is not your slave, but mine."
"What? O ye gods!" cried Adalo, wild with grief and horror.
He hastily advanced two paces toward the Roman. "Is it possible? Is it true? Say no, Ausonius." The voice of the usually defiant youth now sounded almost pleading.
"Unfortunately it is true," replied the Prefect sullenly.
But Saturninus, who now knew what he wished to learn, answered calmly: "The captive is my property. And she cannot be bought with gold. But I will release her, if you--" he rose, approached Adalo and whispered into his ear.
The youth burst forth angrily: "The location of our fortification and the strength of our force? Come into the woods, Roman: you will learn there."
Saturninus stepped back coldly. "As you choose. Never will the red-haired maiden see her people."
"And consider, Barbarian," hissed Herculanus, "we need not use the rack to torture a maiden."
Adalo, with a fierce cry, gripped the hilt of the short sword at his side. But he controlled himself and only cast a look at Herculanus, who, unable to endure it, blinked and turned his eyes away.
Adalo, tortured by deep anguish, gazed inquiringly, searching into the characters and dispositions of the two men; first into Saturninus's stern, handsome face, then his glance scanned Ausonius's features, kindly in expression, but wholly lacking the impress of a firm will. He sighed heavily. But, conscious that the eyes of all were fixed intently upon him, he summoned his whole strength, and said quietly: "If any harm should befall her, her people will take terrible vengeance." The firmly repressed, yet intense fury in the brief words, did not fail to make an impression.
Adalo, without any gesture of farewell, turned to leave the tent, and was already standing under the curtains at the entrance, when Saturninus cried: "And what name has the envoy of the Alemanni?"
The youth turned quickly and, comprehending the whole group in a single glance, exclaimed: "Adalo, son of Adalger. You shall remember it." He passed outside the tent as he spoke.
"Uncle," cried Herculanus, "wasn't that the fellow's name? Yes, yes, it is he: the 'Mars of the Alemanni!' Seize him--and the war is over!"
Before Ausonius could answer, Saturninus, hurrying out of the tent, said: "Beware, Ausonius! Nothing in heaven or on earth seems to be sacred to this nephew of yours. But that Barbarian's eyes must be quickly bandaged again; their glance is like an eagle's." He hastened after the envoy.
Ausonius, vexed by many things, said very irritably, in a tone almost never heard from the lips of the kind-hearted noble: "I have long been displeased with you, nephew Herculanus. I am very much displeased. Very! Extremely!"
He passed him with a hasty step, harshly thrusting aside the arms which Herculanus stretched toward him with a soothing gesture. The nephew's eyes followed him with a glance that boded evil.
Meanwhile the Batavians, Adalo's two companions, and the bear-leader had lain chattering peaceably together around the campfire.
There was, in general, so total a lack of any feeling of unity among the various German tribes that the Alemanni did not think of openly reproaching the Batavians, or even cherishing any secret resentment because they were fighting under Roman standards against other Germans: Alemanni mercenaries also fought against the German, as well as against the other foes of Rome.
So the Roman bronze vessel, filled with dark red Rhaetian wine, was passed to the two Alemanni also, and the Batavians gladly drank the mead which Adalo's companions had brought in long wooden vessels fastened on their backs. For in those days the thirst of the Alemanni was great and frequent, and the brave fellows--hospitality in the enemy's camp had not been expected--would have been reluctant to do without liquor during the long hours consumed on the journey there, the waiting, and the return.
The Sarmatian, with laudable impartiality, drank wine and mead by turns. He, too, at a sign from Rignomer, had taken his seat by the fire. The bear lay stretched at full length at his side, while he began to throw sharp knives into the air and nimbly catch them again, to the astonishment of the Batavians, who gave him small copper coins. His lame companion was lying under the bushes, sleeping so soundly that he snored.
"Ah," cried Rignomer, wiping his chin with his bare arm and returning the little cask to the Alemanni, "may Fro reward you for the drink! Nothing has tasted so good since I turned my back on the Issala and my mother's earth-cellar. She brews it even stronger."
"Wine tastes still better," said his countryman.
"Better in the mouth, Brinno; but mead and ale taste better in the heart: it's home drink. And the best part is not the moist wave that runs down the throat, but the memory of many a happy hour of former drinks, which hovers over it like the rustling of a heron's wings. Well, Alemanni, when will it come to fighting? And will you seek us, or must we hunt for you?"
"As the Duke chooses," replied the other, draining his cup--"and all-ruling Odin."
The Batavian's face changed.
"Don't name him to me! I fearhim; you wearers of hair I don't. I've seized many a man of you with the left hand by his Suabian tail, and thrust the short Roman sword into his throat with my right. But I fear the wearer of the mantle! He is hostile to us mercenaries. It seems to me as though he were hovering in the air opposing us, wherever we fight. There, Juggler, drink again. And then show (we've seenyourtricks) what your bear has learned. Ought not your boy in the bushes yonder, the lame fellow, to have something too? But where is he?"
"Ho, Zizais, dog of a cripple, are you deaf as well as dumb? Where are you hiding? Look, there he lies over by the spring, nearer to the ditch: he has a fever, and went for water. Now stir yourself, my brown dancing maid."
He whispered in the ear of the animal which, growling, rose on its hind legs; the juggler put his long staff in its fore-paws, and now the clumsy creature turned slowly in a circle, keeping time to a monotonous melancholy tune which he first played on his huge flute and then sang, beating time on a bronze cup with a knife-blade. The Romans laughed loudly at the clumsy dancer.
"What is the dainty damsel's name?" asked Rignomer.
"Bruna. She can prophesy too. Take heed! Ask what you choose."
Taking the staff from the bear's paws as he spoke, he laid his hand on her head. The animal now dropped down on her fore-paws and looked up intelligently at her master, who thrust some bread into her mouth.
"Well, you wise Wala," laughed Rignomer, "will the Romans conquer in the next battle?"
The Sarmatian lightly stroked the animal's head against the hair: the bear, growling angrily, shook her head.
The Batavian started, the laugh died on his lips. "She is Donar's friend," he said dejectedly. "He speaks through her. I thought so."
He spoke as if the battle had already been fought and lost.
"Well," said the juggler consolingly, "I'll question her for you. Bruna, clever wood spirit, look sharply at this hero: Will he come out of this war safe and go back to his mother who brews the good mead?"
He lightly stroked the bear from the forehead down toward the tail: Bruna nodded assent.
"I thank thee, Donar," cried Rignomer cheerily. "What do I care for the Romans' victory? I'm going home soon. Hark ye, fellow, the clever fortune-teller pleases me. Will you sell her?"
The Sarmatian looked thoughtful. The question was evidently unexpected. "Not willingly--not cheaply--" he said hesitatingly, wishing to gain time for reflection. "I live by her tricks even more than by my own."
"You are right, Rignomer," Brinno observed. "It's often very dull in camp when we're not on duty. She would amuse us."
"And I'd like to startle the Romans, the proud legionaries who look down scornfully upon us auxiliaries, but always send us to the bloodiest posts in battle."
"I suppose the creature came from these forests?" asked Brinno.
The juggler nodded.
"Aha," cried Rignomer, laughing, "then we must have her. We'll take her to little Bissula: the brown German to the red one."
"Who is Bissula?" drawled the juggler.
"The most charming girl I ever saw," cried Brinno quickly.
"Yes! Every one who sees her is fond of her," Rignomer went on.
"Especially we Germans!"
"So are the Romans, I think; at any rate, most of them. But she often sits gazing so sadly toward the woods, as if longing for something. Her countrywoman will amuse her. I'll buy the animal from you."
"No, no! I don't want to part with her. But,"---his eyes sparkled--"I'll tell you. Take me, the bear, and--" (he was going to say my boy, but as he no longer saw him lying beside the spring, nor in his former place, he checked himself) "into the camp for a few days, till you are tired of the toy."
But both mercenaries shook their heads.
"That won't do! You jugglers and animal tamers are regarded as professional spies."
"The Tribune would have us flogged if we even let you pass through the gate of the camp."
"Well," replied the bear-leader, "I won't sell her, but I'll leave the creature with you a few days; I'll soon come back for her."
"Without pay? That's suspicious!" said Brinno.
"Not without pay!" the other interposed quickly. "Not on any account! I earn my living by her. You must pay me."
"Very well. But listen: is the beast perfectly tame?"
"Perfectly. If she gets a little unruly, you need only buckle the broad collar here--do you see?--a little tighter."
"I see."
"Don't neglect to tell everybody who has anything to do with the animal," warned the Sarmatian.
"Especially the little one," said Brinno. "It would be a pity to have a hair of her head harmed."
"If only people do nothing to injure her, this clever countrywoman won't bite them."
Steps echoed from the camp: Adalo was being escorted back.
"Zizais, where are you? We must go!" called the Sarmatian, turning toward the bushes to search for the boy, who came limping slowly out of the thicket.
The woollen blanket was now removed from the envoy's head; with a gloomy face he swung himself upon his horse, his two companions did the same, and all three soon vanished in the darkness of the forest.
The clank of weapons sounded at the gate; the Thracian spearmen were coming to relieve the Batavians. At the same moment the bear-leader and the cripple emerged from the thicket at the left; the former gave the animal to Rignomer, who tried to drag it with him by the leather collar toward the camp. But the bear resisted, growling and bracing herself on her hind paws, as she looked beseechingly with her intelligent eyes at her master.
"Come, come, Bruna," urged the latter--"they are good people (he stooped and whispered in her ear) won't you go yet? Didn't you understand?"
He scratched his head in perplexity. Then the cripple limped forward, took from his moleskin knapsack a narrow long blue kerchief,--it looked like a girdle,--and handed it to his master. The latter, laughing, gave it to the Batavian.
"Yes, yes. That will help. Hold it before the animal. No! Not in front of her eyes: her nose. There! See how she sniffs? She is getting the scent. Are you surprised? Yes, the cloth belonged to Bruna's dearest playfellow. Go on slowly. You see, she is following like a lamb. Well, greet the Roman camp for me, Bruna: I'll soon come for you."
During the following night Saturninus made a little reconnoitring expedition northward and, as far as it was possible to venture into the swamps without trustworthy guides, towards the east. But he was compelled to return to camp about noon without success.
"They are evidently hiding in the northwest," he said angrily to his best officer, Decius, as they rode side by side. "But none of the guides will go in that direction, and we cannot penetrate into those forest-clad mountains by force until Nannienus arrives. If we had only brought his troops with us by land! It is almost useless, it seems to me, to build galleys to blockade the lake."
"Yes," Decius assented. "The Barbarians must have burned all their boats, or carried them inland: not one is to be seen."
Directly after the General's return a Batavian came to his tent, and asked to see him alone.
"What do you desire, brave Rignomer?"
"To report myself for punishment. I drank too much wine."
"When?"
"Last night."
"How? While on guard outside the camp?"
"No, after I was relieved."
"The trader will be scourged. Who sold it to you?"
"No one. That was just it! I shouldn't have drunk so much if I had bought it. But given! A present of Massican wine! Who can resist it?"
"No German, it seems. And you report for punishment? Of your own free will? Highly improbable. You were probably detected and wish to anticipate?"
"No: no one discovered me. When I was relieved, I had been completely sobered by fright."
"Why?"
"My lord,"--he spoke hesitatingly,--"it is about the Idise."
"Who is that?"
"Why, the red-haired wood nymph."
"What of her?" asked the Illyrian eagerly, now keenly intent.
"My lord, I wish her well! As--as we all do."
"As we all do?"
"Yes, yes," replied the German, smiling, "even you. General; I've noticed it. Well, I report for punishment, and will tell the whole story because--because I'm afraid the little one's life is in danger."
"Tell your story," Saturninus commanded, evidently startled. "Who gave you the wine?"
"Davus, the Prefect's slave."
"Ah--and what happened then?"
"Then it happened that I drank too much, and when I mounted guard outside of the little one's tent, I soon fell asleep on the soft turf. A terrible growling roused me. The she-bear owned by a juggler, a Sarmatian, which I brought into camp yesterday and carried to the captive girl, acted exactly as though she were a human being, that is, a man; for she followed the red elf everywhere."
"Suspicious! Did Bissula know the animal? Did she call it by any name?"
"No. But she was very much pleased when she saw the she-bear; her face flushed and paled. So much pleased that I asked, as you did just now: 'Bissula, do you know each other? How does it happen that the beast will have nothing to do with anybody except you? Hark! how friendly her growl sounds: why doesn't she treat us the same?'
"'Oh,' replied Bissula, laughing, 'she comes from our country and she knows that I am the only one who understands her Alemanni language. Don't you believe me? Well, then ask her,' she added, still laughing, shaking back her curling locks, 'maybe she will tell you.'
"In short, the monster would not leave her side, and followed her into the tent when she went to bed. So the bear's growling waked me. I started up and saw by the light of the campfire a man, running at full speed, vanish around the corner of the nearest tent.
"I rushed in. The young girl had seen nothing--she had fallen asleep. She was trying to soothe the furious animal, which, bleeding from a dagger thrust in its right fore-paw, was angrily crunching in its jaws a piece of brown cloth. At last Bissula, while washing the wound, coaxed it away. Here it is."
He gave it to Saturninus. The Roman General examined it closely.
"This is certainly--but stay! Do you speak first, Rignomer. What do you think it is?"
"A fragment from the hem of a mantle."
"What kind of a mantle?"
"A Roman one: a sagum,"
"Who wear brown mantles--the only ones?"
"The Thracian spearmen and the mailed riders."
"Right. Say nothing of this matter to any one; and go."
"And my punishment?"
"You are pardoned. But drink gift wine cautiously in future."
"Indeed I will, General."
"In the inspection I am about to make you will act shrewdly and prudently, as I order. And listen: one thing more. You owe the young girl some atonement: do you perceive it?"
"Unfortunately."
"Will you make it?"
"Gladly."
"Then mark me. She has complained that I have her watched continually, even during the day. Thrax, my fat scribe, to whom I gave the secret commission, has acted very awkwardly; she found him out long ago. I promised to rid her of him. But she must not remain unguarded."
"Certainly not."
"After this attack less than ever. You, Rignomer,--I will relieve you meanwhile from any other duty,--must henceforth follow the young girl: but unnoticed."
"I thank you, General. I'll make amends for my fault. She shall neither escape nor come to any harm. And she shall not discover that she is constantly watched and guarded."
Directly afterwards the tubas gave the signal through the streets of the camp for a general inspection of the troops, in marching equipments, with mantles. The foot-soldiers were to occupy the wide space on both sides of the Prætorium in the Forum and the Quæstorium, and the cross streets intersecting the camp from east to west, the Via Principalis and the Via Quintana; but the horsemen were to remain directly in front of their rows of tents, near the southern gate facing the lake, the Porta Decumana.
The Tribune mounted his horse and rode along the front. When he had inspected the Batavians, he ordered a body of them to follow him and station themselves behind the mailed riders, at the same time making a sign to Rignomer. The Tribune first rode at a walk down the lines of the mailed cavalry, then he ordered them to wheel and pass before him.
"You look pale, O Herculanus!" he called to their commander. "Have you been up all night? Did you sacrifice to Bacchus after the evening banquet?"
"A little."
Saturninus now closed the inspection. Turning the corner of the Via Media, which intersected the camp from north to south, he motioned to Rignomer, dismounted, and gave him his horse.
"Who had a piece missing from his mantle?"
"No one. But one had a new piece of cloth sewed into the hem--the color did not match, it had not yet been faded by the sun exactly the size of that scrap."
"An officer?"
"Yes."
"It was he: it was Herculanus."
"But my lord, you saw the horsemen only from the front."
"Yet I know it. Be watchful. Guard the little one."
Adalo had retraced the road to the Holy Mountain with a heavy heart, and with deep pain he made his report in the Duke's tent at daybreak.
"I have gained nothing," were his closing words, "seen nothing of the camp, and not a sign of--of her. What is to be done?"
"Wait," replied the Duke, stroking his long beard and half closing his eye.
"Wait! it is easy for you to say that."
"Harder than for you, who still have thrice as many years before you as I."
"But Bissula! Surely I have told you that she does not belong to the old man, her friend. When will you lead us to the assault?"
"When it is time."
"When will it at last be time?"
"Not before the moon has vanished from the sky."
"Have the wise women read that to you in the runes of destiny?" asked Adalo wrathfully.
"I do not consult old women, when I am to fight; but neither will I risk the victory for young ones. The moon must not shine; the night must be dark. And another thing: the torrents of rain were a great help, they kept the Romans in their camp, shut them out of the marshes and forests. But now everything must get dry again, that it may burn merrily. The god of wishes has already sent the right wind. Only have patience a short time. Something else, too, must first be accomplished."
"Then at least let me try to inform her by a secret messenger how she can surely escape."
"No, by my wrath! Before we storm, I will show you why it is impossible for her to escape by the way of which you are thinking. It would lead her into the very midst of the guards outside the camp and betray everything to them. But, did you not meet Zercho on the way back?"
"No; but my companions told me. So you sent him?"
"Sent him? No; he went without my orders. But hark--voices--there he is, and some one with him."
Zercho and Sippilo came hurrying into the tent. The young noble was amazed to see his fair-haired brother in such a disguise.
"Boy, what have you dared to do? You went with him as a spy?" he cried wrathfully. "How you look!"
"Like an elf of darkness; but the soot rubs off easily. See!" Laughing merrily, he threw his arms around Adalo's neck and pressed his curly black head against his brother's cheek.
"Don't scold him until you know all--if you can do it then," pleaded Zercho.
"Make your report," the Duke commanded.
"My lord, much--almost all is well! Yet not everything. Unfortunately I could not get into the camp. But Bruna did," he added, grinning, as he turned to Adalo, "and she'll find the little mistress."
"Can the she-bear fly out again and bring us information about the camp?" said Hariowald angrily.
"Not she, but perhaps this paper can," replied Sippilo, laughing, as he drew a roll of papyrus from his breast. "While Zercho and Bruna were making the sentries laugh and stare, I succeeded, unnoticed, in reaching the ditch, slipped down, and climbed part way up the wall on the opposite side, I dared not risk going to the top, some one would have seen me there. I'm as slender and supple as an eel. Part of the earth in the wall had been washed away by the rain between the palisades in many places; I squeezed into one and got my head and one arm through, but could go no farther, my shoulders were too broad. Then for a while I was very uncomfortable; I couldn't move forward and did not want to go back without having seen something; besides, the cramping hurt. Suddenly I heard voices, footsteps, and saw hurrying toward me along the inner path of the camp, close to the wall--Bissula."
Adalo uttered a cry of joy, and the Duke, too, looked at the bold lad with surprise and pleasure.
"Several paces behind her a fat, very fat man came waddling along. She didn't see me, for she was looking straight in front of her, and her face was not merry as usual, but very sorrowful. I risked the chance that the panting fellow would hear me. But I didn't trust myself to call with a human voice; I began the warbling notes of the chaffinch. Often and often we had practised together to try which could imitate it the more closely; but I did better and lured the little male bird in a fit of furious jealousy to my hiding-place among the leaves. Bissula started, looked toward the gap in the palisades where the bird--so late in the season--was singing, saw and instantly recognized me; she could probably see only my eyes, not my disfiguring sooty hair. Stooping as if to look for the finch, she whispered: 'Save me quickly.'"
An expression of delight flashed over Adalo's handsome face. "She does not love him; she wants to return!" his heart cried exultingly. Sippilo noticed it and guessed the cause of his joy. His young face grew very grave as he went on: "But alas, she added: 'Terrible danger, the greatest, threatens me!'"
Adalo groaned and clutched the nearest tent pole to support himself: his brain was reeling.
"Go on," said the Duke.
"She could say no more, for the fat man was now close behind her: I saw some long yellowish-white thing sticking out of the front of his mantle.
"'This is unbearable!' she cried furiously, turning upon him. 'Are you my shadow, slave? Why do you follow at my heels? Leave me!'
"'By command of my lord the Tribune.'
"'Indeed?' she cried, half mischievously, half angrily. 'Then--by command of your lord, the Tribune, you shall run and sweat well. Can you catch the roe of the lake forest?'
"And she darted off as swiftly as the merlin shoots down the mountain stream. The fat man, panting and swearing, followed. At the end of the road along the wall she turned, glided nimbly past the breathless slave, and again ran toward me: she probably wanted to tell me something, but I understood only the one word, 'hasten!'
"Then she was gone; for her companion, pursuing her, now approached me. When directly opposite he raised his cloak, which was hanging around his legs, and the yellowish-white thing dropped from his breast. He puffed along, and it rolled close to the two posts in the sides of my hole. I hastily snatched it. I wanted to wait for Bissula to pass again, but I saw several splendidly armed Romans stop her, and all went into the inner camp. Then I drew myself backward from between the posts (it wasn't easy; a little skin and hair were left sticking there in remembrance of Sippilo), slid down the wall, climbed the other side of the ditch, entered the bushes, crept back to my former place, and came just as Zercho gave the she-bear to the guards and left the camp."