With the exception of the two leaders, very few Romans had fallen in the short hand-to-hand combat; for the Bajuvaren duke had before the attack given the order: "To-day--prisoners! No slain! Consider, ye men; every man slain is a loss, every prisoner a servant gained for the new masters of the land!"
Fulvius and Crispus had been among the troops turned by Severus against the Bajuvaren. When their ranks were broken, the nephew cried to the uncle: "To Felicitas! Through the ford!" and as they had stood together, so they now ran together towards the river below the bridge, for that was held by the enemy.
But the stout Crispus, although he had quickly thrown away spear and shield, was soon left far behind the agile stone-mason.
An Alemannian horseman, with a youth running at his side, followed both.
Crispus was soon overtaken.
His ridiculous appearance challenged the rider to give him a blow on the casserole covering his head in the place of a helmet, it fell over his eyes and nose, from which poured a stream of blood, he gave a loud cry and fell to the ground; he thought he was dead.
But he soon came back to the agreeable certainty of life, when the foot-soldier, who had remained by him, roughly tore the casserole from his head. Crispus sprang up, gasping for breath, the German laughed in his big, fat, highly-astonished face.
"Ha! this Roman hero has had good provender. And this nose is not red with its own blood or with water either. Ho, friend, I will set thee free, if thou wilt reveal to me where in Juvavum the best wine can be got. It seems to me thou art the man to know it."
Crispus, so pleasantly spoken to, recovered himself quickly, now that he was quite convinced that he was not dead, and would not have to die for the fatherland.
He drew a deep breath and spoke, raising his hand as an oath:
"I swear as a Roman burgher, Jaffa, the good Jew, near the Basilica, has the sweetest. He is not baptized--but neither is his Falernian.
"Excellent!" cried the Alemannian. "Come, ye friends!"--a whole crowd of Alemanni and Bajuvaren were shaking hands close about him--"to Jaffa the Jew, to drink our gratitude to the god Ziu for our pleasant victory! Thou, fat fellow, lead on, and if, contrary to thine oath, it is sour, this Jew's wine, we will drown thee therein."
But Crispus was not alarmed; he rejoiced, on the contrary, that he would now be able to drink gratis, as much as he wished, of the choicest long-stored Cyprus wine, which hitherto had been quite beyond his means. That it was to be drunk to the honour of the god Ziu did not make the wine worse. "And," said he to himself, "it is at all events better pleasing to God that we empty the Jew's wine-skins than those of a good Christian."
He did not trouble about his house. "They will not interfere with my old Ancilla; her wrinkles will protect her better than many shields. The bit of money is buried; they will not carry away the plaster statues, they will only cut off their noses with great zeal and an incomprehensible liking for the business: it does not matter, one can stick them on again," But he was anxious about Fulvius, about Felicitas.
He looked about for the fugitive, but could not see him either lying dead, or brought in a prisoner; he seemed to be swallowed up by the earth: the rider who had pursued him had turned his horse in another direction, and was pursuing other flying Romans. Crispus hoped that the young husband had escaped. He (Crispus) was quite unable to help Felicitas, for his conqueror held him firmly by the shoulder and pushed him towards the bridge.
"Forward! Thou canst not imagine, Roman, how Alemannian thirst burns. And near the Basilica, sayest thou? That is right! There we shall find, besides, gold and silver cups for the liquor."
And in front of the whole noisy, laughing, shouting swarm, the fat Crispus, an involuntary pot-companion, stumped along as fast as his short legs could carry him, towards the gate through which he had shortly before marched, a proud helmeted legionary. He had left the casserole where it fell, but he was still reminded of it by the smarting of his nose.
In the meantime Fulvius had actually disappeared. He had not thrown away shield and spear, like his corpulent companion; he was young, strong, he had no fear, and he thought of the promise which he had given at his release to the gallant Severus. He had now reached the river and stood firmly on the marshy bank. He heard the hoof-strokes of the galloping horse coming nearer and nearer, and he resolutely turned, looked at the enemy fiercely, raised his spear, took good aim and threw it with all the strength of his arm against the face of the German.
"Well aimed!" cried he, as he dropped the reins, and with his left hand caught the whizzing spear.
The shield of Fulvius would now have availed him little, for the galloping horseman aimed at the same time with both spears, his own and the one he had caught, at the Roman's head and abdomen. But before the deadly lances reached him, Fulvius had suddenly disappeared; in stepping backwards from the snorting horse, that must the next instant have prostrated him, he lost his balance, slipped on the smooth grass, and fell backwards into the stream, the waters of which, dashing up, closed over him. The Alemannian bent down from his steed and looked after him laughing as he was carried away.
"Greet the Danube for me" cried he, "when thou hast reached it;" then turned his horse and galloped across the fields.
Zeno hastily pursuing his way, had reached the corner of the narrow street.
Loud cries sounded behind him; he looked round; the flames broke crackling through the roof of a house close by; it was that of the Judge, his son-in-law. Full of fresh anxiety he hurried forwards.
After a few steps he came to the door of the priest's small house, which stood open.
He sprang across the threshold, flew along the narrow, imperfectly-lighted passage. No Ostiarius, no sub-deacon showed himself. He hurried into the priest's room, the same into which we have already been.
It was empty.
The door which led into the adjoining church was ajar.
The fugitive entered and hastened across the dimly-lighted space to the altar, which, dividing apse and nave, furnished the most sacred asylum in the church. Here on the steps lay Johannes, stretched out motionless, with both arms clasping the relic-shrine on the altar.
In his anguish new horror seized the hard Byzantian.
Was he murdered?--He, who might perhaps have been able to protect him?
"Woe is me!" groaned he.
His horror increased when he, who lay as dead, slowly raised himself and silently turned his pale, venerable face.
"Ha! do the dead rise again?" cried Zeno, shrinking back.
"Why dost thou think me dead?" asked Johannes, regarding his disturbed countenance with a soul-piercing look.
"Not I--not I--but the Tribune wished"----
"I imagined so! What seekest thou here?"
"Safety! safety!" stammered the usurer; he again thought only of the danger that was following his steps. "My slaves! All the slaves have revolted. The Judge's house is in flames."
Then a bright light as of fire shone through the open windows of the church, and arms clashed in the distance.
"Hearest thou? They are seeking me! They come! Save me! Cover me with thy body. Here, all this gold"--he threw the heavy bag on the altar, it burst and single gold pieces ran clinking over the steps on to the marble pavement. "Alas! it escapes from me faithlessly! All this gold--or the half--no--all, the whole will I give thee--no, not tothee. I know thou wilt devote it to St. Peter, to thy church, to the poor--only save me!"
And he threw himself at the priest's feet, carefully concealing the little purse of jewels in his bosom.
Johannes raised him.
"Iwillsave thee!--for Christ's sake, not for the sake of the gold."
"Thou wilt stay with me," cried Zeno with rising hope.
"That I cannot do. My place at this hour is on the battle-field, to attend on the wounded. My brethren I have already sent out. I was only deriving strength from a last prayer."
"No, no, I will not let thee go!" cried Zeno, clinging to him.
But, with unlooked-for strength, Johannes freed himself.
"I must, I tell thee. The Lord calls me. Perhaps I may even check the slaughter. But thou--thy cruelty has so enraged the unhappy creatures, that some of them would not be restrained by the altar--by my intercession"----
"Yes, yes!" agreed Zeno.
He thought of Këix, the mad bull.
"Thou shalt be hidden where no one but God the Lord can find thee. See here!"
With these words he stooped down and raised a slab of the marble flooring near the altar; a short ladder was visible, which led into a dark, tolerably spacious vault.
"Go down there. No one but myself knows of this old cave. Wait till I fetch thee out; I will come as soon as the danger is over."
"But if--and if"----
"Thou meanest if I lose my life? See, thus can the roof-stone be lifted from below. Hasten!"
"It horrifies me--to be buried alive! Are the bones of the dead--skeletons----Pardon; are there relics in the vault?"
"Fear thou henceforth the living God, not dead men. Here, take the oil-lamp; and now away! Hearest thou? The tumult presses nearer."
Then Zeno sprang down, lamp in hand. Johannes seized the money-bag, and threw it in after him; the miser noticed with agony that the priest had first taken out a handful of solidi. He replaced the stone, and then strewed the gold pieces from the principal door, of the church (which he bolted on the inside) up to the altar, and from there as far as, and over, the threshold of the door which led from the church into his own house. He then hastened through this door, and out of his house into the open air.
After a few minutes, Zeno heard, with a despairing heart, furious axe-blows thundering on the great door of the church.
It burst open and a great crowd of men--to judge from the voices and footsteps--crushed in. Zeno held his breath in an agony of fear; he pressed his ear to the slab, in order to hear better. He perceived first the voice of a woman.
"Do not kill him in the church!--in the sanctuary of the saints! He scourged me almost to death, and killed my child. But do not kill him in the church. Honour the house of the eternal God!"
"Rather in the house of God than in the house of the good Johannes!" said another voice.
"It is sanctuary only on the altar, not in the whole church!" cried a third. But then Zeno heard the terrible Këix scream out:
"At the feet of the Father in heaven would I strangle him! He has at the last murdered my old father, who had entreated me to spare the monster. When I would not yield, he stole from my side. I found him again when we had broken open the villain's door, and his dagger was in my father's neck. I could murder him seven times."
"Once is enough," said Kottys, "if we murder him as slowly as we have killed my master. Mucius the Judge we have burnt alive in the flames of his own house."
"Halt! Look here, brother Kottys; this is the track of the fugitive. The wounded hyena sweats blood; the fleeing miser sweats gold. See here! at the portal it begins: then he is inside--has drawn the bolt behind him--here, past the altar has he run; and there--through that door into the priest's house! There he must be hidden. After him!"
"After him! Down with him!" roared the whole mob, and ran with rambling steps across the slab over Zeno's head, away into the adjoining house.
The miser, senseless with fright, had crept back into the farthest corner; long cowered he there; cold sweat ran from his brow.
But all remained quiet, the last sound died away; the pursuers had, after searching the priest's house, poured out into the street.
He said to himself: "The Tribune will soon observe the conflagration, and the uproar in the town. He has already repeatedly subdued such riots. With his lancers he will in a few hours re-establish order." Thus presence of mind and a certain courage slowly returned to him.
By the light of the oil-lamp, he now looked around him in the cellar-like vault.
He stumbled against a chest. A strange curiosity, mixed with dread, impelled him irresistibly to open it; perhaps here the sly old fellow hid the treasures of his church! He lifted up the lid; the chest contained nothing but papyrus rolls and parchments; spread over them was a white, priestly garment with a hood, exactly like that which Johannes had worn.
An idea struck the fugitive. He hastily drew the wide robe over his own garments.
"I shall not stay long in this place, and I am now safely disguised--better than in armour."
After a time, as all remained still, he became uncomfortable in the damp air of the vault; he carefully half-raised the slab, mounted the ladder and looked into the empty church.
His eye fell on the glittering gold pieces, which shone in the light of the altar-lamp.
A few had been picked up by his pursuers, but they thirsted more for blood than gold. Already the miser repented having promised the priest so much.
"He, moreover, rejected the gold; so I am no longer bound to give it. And these scattered pieces--they shall not fall to the scoundrels."
He now lifted the slab quite up, and listened again anxiously. All was silent.
Then he deliberately placed money-bag and purse of jewels in the chest, closed the lid, climbed quickly out and picked up the solidi--at first those that lay nearest, then those by the altar; he then saw to the right of the altar a whole heap lying together, as they had fallen out of the burst bag.
He went now from the left of the altar towards the right, stooped down--oh, horror! he heard steps approaching from the priest's house! Only one man, certainly, but that was not Johannes--there was the clang of metal!
He quickly attempted to regain his hiding-place, but before he could pass the altar, a black shadow fell across his path. Zeno could not, unnoticed, spring into the vault.
His knees failed him; so, drawing the hood quickly over his head, he threw himself into the position in which he had found Johannes, with his arms encircling the relic shrine on the altar. At the same moment cold steel penetrated his neck. He was dead before he had heard the words, "Die, priest!"
But the murderer now thought it was not the high-towering form of the Presbyter. He bent down so that the black horse-tail of his high helmet fell forwards, and drew back the hood, and with it the head of the murdered man.
With a short scream he let it again fall.
"Irony of fate! The usurer! How comes he here? How in this disguise? Where is the priest?"
But before the Tribune could think about these questions, his whole attention was drawn towards the chief entrance of the church, by a noise of the most startling kind.
Leo had stationed his troops in the Forum of Hercules; had left them with the command there to await his return. He had dismounted, and put his horse in charge of one of the troopers. He wished to reach the priest's house on foot, by a circuitous route through narrow streets, where he would be less observed.
He had been startled when half-way by seeing the flames rise, and hearing in the distance the tumult of the revolted slaves. He stood still.
A fleeing woman then hurried towards him, with covered head, he stopped her.
"It is thou, Tribune!" cried the fugitive.
"What? Thou, Zoë! The Judge's wife! What has happened?"
"The slaves! Our house is burning! Save! help!"
"My troops are standing in the Forum of Hercules. I will return myself immediately. Then will I help."
He had then hurried into the empty house of the priest, rushing through it with sword drawn, he reached the Basilica, and instead of him he sought, had struck dead his own confederate. He had hardly discovered this, when there sounded in the direction of the portal the bugles and trumpets of his horsemen, calling to the attack.
"They are in conflict with the rioters," thought the Tribune, and he was going out through the doorway. "Rascals of slaves! while the barbarians stand before the gates!"
But on the threshold he suddenly stopped: for quite a different sound struck on his terrified ear--not the raging howl of frantic slaves; no, a cry well known to him--the watch-cry, the war-cry, the cry of victory of the Germans, and--it was close at hand.
"Germans in the town? Impossible!"
But, stepping carefully out from the door of the Basilica, he saw at the corner of the great square whole swarms, yes, hundreds of Germans, on foot--not the few horsemen whom they had so long observed--and they were advancing straight towards the church.
"To fight one's way through! Impossible! Back! through the priest's house!"
He fled through the nave of the church, past the still raised stone slab into the house of Johannes. But the noise came towards him in that direction also, loud laughing and shouting, and he saw approaching a crowd of Germans with a stout Roman at their head, whom they had heavily laden with wine-skins.
As quickly as his heavy armour would allow him, he turned back into the Basilica, sprang--this seemed the only possible place of safety--into the open vault, pulled down the stone slab, and immediately heard the Germans pouring into the church through both entrances. Shouting and exulting the conquerors greeted each other over the head of the imprisoned commandant of Juvavum.
We will join the drinking Germans above, rather than the Tribune raging in impotent wrath below the marble floor.
"Welcome in victory, ye brave Bajuvaren!"
"For that we thank you, ye clever Alemanni!"
"Did we not entice them out well?" said another comrade in arms. "First of all we--that is, Liuthari, our famous king's famous son, and two of his followers--surprised a post of five Moorish horsemen, whom the Tribune of the Capitol had sent out against us as spies. But we know the forests better than those brown Africans. Four were dead, or prisoners, before they were aware of it. One escaped--alas! But it seems he was not able to tell much. Then a little company of us slipped across the river--an Alemannian horse can swim like a swan--and galloped to you Bajuvaren in the eastern mountains, in order that at the right time the call of the heron should be answered by the cry of the eagle."
"And this time you also, ye heavy-stepping Bajuvaren, contrary to your manner and custom, actually came at the right time," teased Suomar, another Alemannian.
Fiercely the Bajuvaren put his hand to the battle-axe in his girdle. "What does that mean, thou Suevian blockhead? It is my opinion we have come early enough to cut you down--you as well as all others who wait long enough! Although you are so quick in thought and hasty in words, many times already you have not had limbs quick enough for flight, to escape from us, if we are slow."
Provoked thus, the other was going to answer angrily, but Vestralp, the first Alemannian, interposed soothingly: "Never mind, both of you; thou, my Suomar! and thou, brave Marcoman! Once there, the Bajuvaren fight so splendidly that they make up for lost time."
"They have often shown that!" cried Rando, a third Alemannian.
"The last time," continued Suomar, "just now, in the market-place, and on the steep path up to the citadel, against the cavalry of the Tribune."
"Listen! What was that?"
"Yes! did not a groan come out of the ground?"
"There!--at the left by the altar."
"Look! behind the altar! Perhaps some one wounded."
Two warriors hastened to the spot and looked behind the altar, but they found nothing.
"But what lies there in front--on the steps?"
"A dead man."
"A Roman?"
"A priest, as it seems."
"The slaves must have done that; the rioters who joined themselves to us when we had climbed the walls," said Helmbert, an aged leader of the Bajuvaren. "They are now the guides to the richest booty."
"Take the corpse away! On the stone steps is the best place to sit and drink," said Helmdag, his son.
"Dare to do it, thou blasphemer! That is the table of the most exalted Lord of Heaven," threatened Rando.
"It is not true," cried Helmdag. "Thou art a Catholic. This is a heretic church, more harmful than any abominations of heathenism. So my Gothic godfather, the Bishop of Novi, teaches me."
"Thou stinking Arian!" answered Rando. "Thou denier of Christ! I will teach thee to give to the Lord Christ equal honour with the Father. I will fill thy mouth with my fist, and with thine own teeth as well!"
"With us the son always stands behind the father," growled Helmdag.
"Peace! both of you," commanded Vestralp, "fill your mouths with Roman wine. Bring the skin, Crispus, thou Roman hero! Do not untie it! A stroke with the sword. So! It spouts like red blood out of wounds! Now the helmets and hollow shields, until the noble Roman in the buck's skin is exhausted. And as concerns the strife about the two stone steps, I think that a good man honours everything that is sacred to another. Therefore, brothers, we will all draw back from those steps."
"But the gold and silver on the walls, on the pillars and stone coffers?" said Helmdag, the Arian.
"Perhaps that is to stay for the plundering slaves?" said Rando the Catholic.
"No!" cried the enlightened pagan, who had spoken for peace--it was Vestralp, the vanquisher of the helmeted Crispus--"that would be a pity. We will divide it amongst us all: for the God Ziu, for the Romish Bishops, and for the followers of Arius."
And they immediately set to work with the bronze helmet, or deer-skin cap, full of red wine in the left hand, the battle-axe in the right. Drinking heartily during their work, they broke away from the sarcophagi, holy shrines, and even from the columns, all that was valuable of the metal ornaments and jewels, and also the stones that pleased the eye by their variegated colours.
Garizo, a young, slim, tall Bajuvaren, lifted from the neck of a Saint Anne her necklace of heavy gold and sapphires, giving at the same time a deep bow, and saying:
"With thy permission, holy goddess, or whatever else thou mayest be; but thou art horribly ugly, and of dead stone. What one sees of thy bosom is yellow; but my bride Albrun is alive and young, and wonderfully beautiful; and very pretty will these stones look on her white neck."
"Yes, but where are they then, your women and children, and unarmed folk?" asked Vestralp of the busy bridegroom.
"They will come to-morrow down the eastern mountains," answered Garizo. "For this we have at last found out, 'slow-moving' as we are, as thy hasty-tongued comrade just now said--this we have now learnt: to send the men forwards into the battle, and let the unarmed come afterwards when the victory and land is won."
"There must be something in it," laughed Vestralp, "in this name 'slow-moving,' because it vexes you so. If one called you a coward, you would only laugh and strike him down. You are a strange people! No other race so calm, and at the same time so terrible in anger."
"I will tell thee," spoke thoughtfully Helmbert, the white-bearded. "We are like the mountains; they stand quiet, whatever goes on round about them. But if the tumult within gets too vexatious, they overturn in rocks and fire."
"You have shown this time that you also can be cunning and crafty," cried Suomar. "With what artful care did you prevent the enemy getting scent of your approach! So sharply did you watch all the roads, and even the mule-tracks and the paths of the chamois-hunters, that no intelligence from the east could reach Juvavum."
"And not to make the Romans suspicious at the absence of all news," added Helmbert, "we sent our own Roman settlers disguised like peasants and workmen, as if they were the people from Ovilava and Laureacum, into the town, there to buy and sell."
"And if these had revealed all?" asked Suomar.
"Their relatives left behind would have been put to death. That was said plainly enough to them. But besides this, the poor people would rather support us than their Roman tormentors."
"The burghers of the town soon gave up the contest; they find themselves under a new rule; as they see, we do not eat them," said Helmdag, laughing.
"Yes;onlythe cavalry and foot-soldiers of the Tribune fought bravely, and with exasperation," said Rando.
"Tell us about it," urged Vestralp. "We, who fought on the other side of the river, do not know yet exactly what happened within the walls, or how the citadel fell so quickly."
"By the sword of Ziu, it was wonderful!" began Rando. "There, on the great square, where the Christian saint stands with lion's skin and club"----
"Thata saint! That is a heathen god!"
"No; a demi-god."
"All the same to me," continued Rando; "he did not help the Romans, whether saint, or god, or demi-god. But we were surprised on that market-place. After we, some twenty Alemanni, with the Bajuvaren--they can climb like cats, these mountain huntsmen of Bajuhemum--had clambered over the walls, we thought all was over. But when we came to the open market, there came galloping towards us, in close order, with the crashing sounds of the tuba, the cavalry of the Tribune. He himself was not to be seen; it was said, he lay ill in the citadel; but he was not taken prisoner there. We were at first very few, and it was only with difficulty that we could stand against them. But we gradually pressed them back; step by step they were forced upwards towards the Capitol. But then came the Isaurian infantry to their help, and it was now a fearful struggle--man against man. Ah! I have again seen them fight with their Wotan's fury, these Bajuvaren."
"Say, rather, lion's courage," interposed proud Helmdag the Bajuvaren, "for we carry the lion on our standard, and lion's courage in our hearts."
"How come you with the southern beast? I think the bear stands nearer, and more resembles you."
"Thou thinkest that, forsooth, thou sharp-witted Suevian!" said old Helmbert, coming to his son's help, "because you know so much more than we; but you do not know everything. Three hundred years ago one had not heard the name of the Alemanni; but our ancestors, the Marcomanni, had already long fiercely fought with the Romans. And at that time victory cradled itself on the wings of the golden eagle. There was, in the golden house of Nero on the Tiber, a great, wise Emperor skilled in magic. He had found out, by his magical arts, that if he made two lions swim across the Danube, the bravest people on the earth would conquer in the impending battle. But our fathers, the Marcomanni, said: 'What yellow dogs are these?'--killed the lions with clubs, and afterwards slew the army of the Emperor and his general: twenty thousand Romans lay dead on their shields. The clever Emperor in Rome knew then which was the bravest people on the earth. And since then we carry two lions on our colours. So sing and tell our bards. Now, continue, Suevian."
"That I will, to your glory! Like cats--or if thou, Helmdag, wouldst rather hear it, like lions--sprang the Bajuvaren on to the necks of the Moorish horses, and allowed themselves to be dragged along rather than let go. 'Give to Loge his due,' says a proverb that I have heard among the Anglo-Saxons: the Moors and Isaurians fought desperately, man by man covering the narrow, steep path which only offered space for two horses. At last the Duke came to our help; he brought fresh troops, and now in a sudden attack with levelled spears, pushing our way between the horses, we scattered the whole entangled mass. The Bajuvaren now used their short knives in a hand-to-hand conflict. They ran under the long lances of the Isaurians, sprang on to the saddle of the fully armed Moorish horsemen, and in face and throat--the only vulnerable part--thrust the blade of their daggers; on both sides, now right, now left, fell the enemy, horse and man, over the low breastwork of the Roman wall on to the jagged rocks in the depths below. Nevertheless the battle might have lasted long around the citadel; indeed, hunger alone would have subdued those rock walls if the rest of the enemy, who now at last fled, had gained the gate. But they didnotsucceed in getting within it. A great deed was done by the hand of a Bajuvarian boy; I saw it plainly: having been overtaken by the Bajuvaren, I was, at last, no longer fighting, but was watching the gate of the fortress, which, high above me, was distinctly visible. I then saw that one of the two Isaurians who there stood on guard, ran towards his fleeing comrades; his movements plainly indicated that he was urging them to still hastier flight into the fortress, before the barbarians should press in with them. The other Isaurian stood on the threshold, holding the iron bolt in his hand, ready to close the half-door from the inside and draw the bolt as soon as the fugitives had poured in. Then, suddenly, as if struck by lightning, the man fell forward on his face: he stood up no more. Immediately afterwards appeared a boy with fair hair on the tower above the gateway; he cut down with a battle-axe the imperial purple standard, and in place of the fallen banner planted, on a tall spear, which shone afar, a blue shield.
"'My Hortari,' then cried Garibrand, the Duke, 'my brother's son, stolen many weeks ago, and thought dead!Hisshield, the victorious blue shield of our house, of our family. Forward, ye Bajuvaren! Now to cut our way to Hortari!'
"But there was nothing more through which to cut our way; the Tribune was not there; the slaves of the Tribune were also not to be found in the fortress: the brave child was the only human being inside the Capitol. The fight before the gate was over immediately; the enemy shut out, powerless, one man springing on the back of another trying to climb the high walls, pressed still harder by us, soon threw down their arms and yielded. A few certainly, despairing of grace, or despising it, spurred their horses from the steep path into the abyss below. The gate of the citadel of Juvavum flew open from the inside, and young Hortari sprang into his uncle's arms; this youth of the Bajuvaren had won for his people the Capitol of Juvavum."
"Hail to the youth Hortari! The minstrels will have him in remembrance!"
"Hail to the youth Hortari!" sounded loud through the wide halls of the Basilica.
When the joyous cry had died away, quarrelling words were heard at the farther end of the building.
In the apse behind the altar, two, flushed with wine, were in loud strife.
In a chest containing Roman memorials, which the zealous Johannes had taken away from his flock, in order to wean them from their pagan superstitions, the two men had found a small, beautifully-carved marble relief, representing the three Graces tenderly clasping each other. They had seized the piece of sculpture; and screaming and shouting, now dragged and pulled each other through the church till they stood before Vestralp and Helmbert.
Then one of the disputants let fall the marble and flashed his short knife against his opponent, who immediately dropped the plunder and seized the hand-axe in his girdle.
"Halt, Agilo!" cried Vestralp, seizing the arm of his fellow tribesman.
"StabRomans, if thou wilt, not Alemanni," shouted Helmbert, and struck down the knife of his countryman.
"Well! You shall decide," cried both disputants with one breath.
"I saw it first," cried the Alemannian. "I wished to hang it on my favourite horse as a breast-plate."
"But I took it first," retorted the other. "They are the three fate-spinning sisters. I should hang it up over my child's cradle."
"The strife is easily settled," said Vestralp, picked up the three Graces from the floor, took the axe from the hand of the Alemannian, aimed well, and cut the relief exactly through the middle.
Helmbert seized the two pieces and said:
"Forasitzo, Wotan's son, who is the judge in Heligoland, could not have divided it more evenly; there, each of you has a goddess and a half. Now go and drink reconciliation."
"We thank you very much," said the combatants, again unanimous and highly satisfied.
"But there is no more wine," complained the Alemannian.
"Or I should have drunk it long ago," sighed the Bajuvaren.
"Heigh, Crispe, son of Mars and Bellona," cried Vestralp, "where is there wine--more wine?"
Crispus came panting. "Oh, sir, it is incredible! But they have actually drunk it all! The prudent Jaffa," whispered he, "has still a very small skin of the very best; but that is for thee alone, because thou hast saved my life." He continued aloud: "There is a large stone jug full of water; if we mix that with the last dregs in the wine-skins there will still be abundance of drink."
But Vestralp raised his spear-shaft and shattered the great jug so that the water ran in a stream. "Let the man be cut off from the race of the Alemanni," cried he, "who at any time mixes water with his wine! That special wine," continued he quietly to Crispus, "the poor Jew himself shall keep. Let him drink it himself, after all his fright."
Then there sounded from outside the call of the great ox-horn. And immediately afterwards the door of the church was thrown open. A gigantic Bajuvaren stood on the threshold, and cried with a loud voice: "You are sitting there and drinking in blissful indolence, as if all was over; and yet the battle is again raging in the streets. The slaves of the Romans! They are burning and destroying, while the town isours! Protect your Juvavum, men of Bajuhemum! So commands Garibrand, the Duke."
In an instant all the Germans had seized their arms, and with the loud cry, "Defend the Juvavum of the Bajuvaren!" they rushed out of the church.
When the last footstep had long died away, the marble slab was carefully raised; the Tribune climbed out. The man so brave, so fond of war, had suffered the bitterest torments of humiliation during this long time. Was he not a Roman, and did he not know his duty? It stung his honour as a soldier that he, blindly following his own passions, pursuing only hisownobject, had made the victory so easy for the barbarians. His looks were sullen; he bit his lips. "My cavalry! the Capitol! Juvavum! vengeance on the priest! victory! all is lost--except Felicitas! I will fetch her; and away, away with her over the Alps!--Where may my Pluto be?"
Leo crept through the priest's house into the narrow street, and carefully sought the shadow of the houses. It was beginning to get dark, so long had the drinking bout above his head detained him a prisoner. Like a slinking beast of prey, stooping at every corner, and with a spring quickly gaining the side of the opposite street, he avoided the large open squares and crowded streets. He then heard, in the distance, the roaring noise of confused voices. He looked back; flames were rising into the heavens, already darkened with smoke.
The Tribune hastened to gain the north side of the ramparts; to find the Porta Vindelica unoccupied he could not hope, even from German recklessness; but he knew the secret mechanism by which, without key, a small sortie-gate could be opened which led into the high road to Vindelicia. This doorway he now endeavoured to reach. Unchallenged, unseen, he mounted the wall, avoiding the steps; opened the door; closed it again carefully; slid down the steep slope, and gained the moat, which, formerly filled with water, had now--the sluices were all destroyed--lain dry for tens of years. Weeds and bushes above a man's height grew therein.
He had hardly reached the bottom of the moat when a loud neighing greeted him out of a willow-plot; his faithful horse trotted towards him, nodding its head.
Two other horses answered out of the bushes.
Immediately afterwards two men crept out of the thicket, crawling along the ground on all-fours. It was Himilco the centurion, and another Moor.
They beckoned to him silently to follow them into the hiding-place. They had escaped into the moat after the dispersion of their troops by the Bajuvaren. The black steed had followed the two other horses, the man in charge of him having fallen.
Since then they had remained hidden among the thick bushes of the moat.
"The first gleam of light on this black day," said the Tribune. "We three will fly! Come! There to the left the river approaches the moat. The horses can easily reach it with a leap, and then swim across. I must go to the Mercurius hill, down the Vindelician road; then--over the mountains!"
"Sir," implored Himilco, "wait till night. Twice already have we tried to escape by that way. Each time we were observed by the Alemannian horsemen, who incessantly march before the gates to seize fugitives; each time it was only with the greatest difficulty that we regained our shelter. Only in the darkness of the night can we venture."
The Tribune was reluctantly obliged to acknowledge this counsel as well-grounded. "At night," said he to himself, "I shall be better able to carry off Felicitas." So, impatient enough, he determined to await the darkness in this hiding-place.
Far away from the hidden fugitives, in the south-east side of the town, strife and tumult were meanwhile raging.
Many of the revolted slaves, after revenging themselves on their masters, had thrown down their arms; but thewildestspirits, restrained by the Germans from further incendiarism, murder, and robbery, and driven by them from street to street, had now crowded together for a last resistance.
Here lay the large imperial magazines for the building of boats and rafts for the traffic of the Ivarus, especially the salt-trade: also immense stores of well-dried wood, sail-cloth, pitch, and tar. These favourites of the fire-god the mad creatures wished to set on fire. They hoped, in their blind destructive fury, that the conflagration would from there spread its red and black wings over the whole city.
But the magazines were covered with slates on the flat roofs, were protected by high stone walls, and shut in with strong oak doors; the few guards round about had, certainly, long since fled, but, even undefended, stone and iron-bound wood would for some time resist the fury of the assailants.
But now came Këix, the leader of the host, from the bath of Amphitrite, close by, which was in flames, swinging in one hand a blue and in the other a green pitch torch, such as were used in the illumination of the ornamental gardens.
"Ha!" cried he; "now see! We will have to-day the richest fire-works! The Christian emperors have indeed forbidden the Saturnalia, but we will introduce them again, but this time to the honour of Vulcan and Chaos!"
And he propped both torches against the oak panels of the door, which immediately began to smoulder. But now the pursuing Bajuvaren had reached the spot.
The barricades in the streets they had, after a short, wild conflict with their defenders, thrown down; and they now rushed forward in a close wedge with Duke Garibrand at their head.
"We have you, incendiaries! Down with your arms! Extinguish those flames instantly; or, by the spear of Wotan, no man among you shall remain alive."
Instead of answering, Kottys lifted up the heavy iron rod--the long bolt which he had torn from his own slave prison--and screamed:
"Dost thou think we wish to change our masters? We will be free, and masters ourselves. And all shall be destroyed on this whole earthly ball that reminds us of the time of our slavery. Come on, ye barbarians, if you want to fight with desperate men."
And now a furious rage threatened to break forth.
Suddenly a loud, powerful voice cried: "Stop. Peace be with you all!" Between the combatants stepped the venerable form of Johannes; behind him appeared his ecclesiastical brethren; they, assisted by some of the burghers of Juvavum, were carrying on barrows and litters, wounded slaves, Moors, Isaurians, and also some Germans.
"Make way for us! Let us take these wounded--they belong to you all who are here fighting--to my church."
The words, the look, had immediately a silencing, an appeasing effect. At the sign of their Duke, the Bajuvaren lowered their lifted weapons; most of the slaves did the same. Fearlessly Johannes walked into the thickest part of the crowd; all reverently shrunk back. The women--for there were many women amongst the mob--knelt down and kissed the hem of his garment. He stepped straight towards the door which had now caught fire.
Kottys alone tried to turn him away.
"Back, priest!" he cried, and threw the iron bar; and as Johannes quietly walked on, the iron struck him on the shoulder. He sank--his blood flowed on the ground.
"Woe to thee, brother!" cried Këix. "Thou hast murdered the only protector of the poor and miserable--our father's best friend!"
And the wild man knelt by the priest, holding him in his arms.
To do this he was obliged to throw away his weapon, an iron trident, which he had torn from the hand of a Neptune at the fountain. Nearly all his comrades followed this example. Kottys threw the rod on the ground, and entreated:
"Pardon me, Father Johannes!"
The priest raised himself. "Thou hast repented, therefore God has forgiven thee. Who am I--a sinner--thatIshould forgive?"
He now stepped unhindered to the door, threw down the torches, picked up one of the broad shields, pressed it with the right hand against the burning door, raised imploringly the left towards heaven, and said:
"Fire! thou also art a creature and a servant of God the Lord! I command thee--I adjure thee, thou hellish demon of flame, retire hence into hell."
The fire was then extinguished. Johannes let the shield fall, and turned again to the crowd; his face was radiant with the glory of the deepest conviction.
"A wonder! A miracle of the Lord by the hand of the devout Johannes!" sounded out from the whole host of slaves. The most defiant now threw away their weapons and sank on their knees, crossing themselves. Among the Germans many also made the sign of the cross and bent the knee; but Këix and Kottys raised their hands towards Johannes as if in worship. Duke Gariband then advanced to the Presbyter, and spoke slowly:
"Thou hast well done, old man. Here, my hand. But say," continued he, and a sly smile flashed across his lips, "if thou hadst full confidence in the magic of the Runic words that thou didst utter to the fire, why didst thou also use the shield?"
The priest so addressed stood erect and said: "Because we should not tempt God. Not that the Lord needed my arm or the shield to extinguish the fire."
"It has never yet happened," said the Duke, thoughtfully nodding his head, "that one of you Christian priests was at a loss for an answer. You have--and thou especially hast--power over souls, more than my sword over the conquered, use it ever as at this time. I know well how powerful you are, ye men of the cross, on the Danube there rules one, Severinus by name; he has more authority by his word than Rome and the barbarians. We shall be good friends; I shall respect thee. But hear this. I shall allow you to worship Christ as you will; take thou care not to hinder my people from sacrificing as they will. No, no, old man, do not shake thy head; I suffer no contradiction!" And he lifted his finger threateningly.
But undaunted, Johannes said:
"If the Lord will call the wanderers to Himself through my mouth, fear of thee will not close it. Thy duchess is already won to the Lord. Verily, I tell thee--thou, and thy people--you will not escape Him. But you, rise," said he, turning to the slaves. "I will entreat for you with the victors, who are now the rulers of this land. I will teach them, that ye also, created in the image of God, are also their brethren, and that your immortal souls are redeemed by the death of Christ. I will teach them, that he who sets his slaves free wins the warmest place in the heart of the Father of heaven."
"But he who has still to remain in servitude," interrupted the Duke, "let him know, that we Germans are noble-minded masters; we do not burden and punish the slave according to the caprice and temper of the master; as our free people are judged by the free, so the bond people are judged by their fellows--in the court of justice, according to the law. You stand henceforth under the protection of the strongest judicial fortress--the law, and the tribunal of your own comrades! So be comforted: you serve noble masters."