The son of Victoria the Great was then in his twenty-third year. I told you, my son, that several medals were struck on which he figured in the guise of the god Mars beside his mother, who wore on her head a casque resembling that of the antique Minerva. Indeed, Victorin could have served as a model for a statue of the god of war. Tall, supple, robust, with a shape at once elegant and martial, he pleased all eyes. His features, imprinted with the rare beauty of his mother's, differed from them by an expression of mirthfulness and daring. The openness and generosity of his character was clearly visible on his face. On seeing him, one forgot, despite himself, the defects that marred that manly being, too vivacious and too fiery to curb the impulses of his age. Victorin doubtlessly came from a night of pleasure; yet his face looked as fresh as if he had just left his bed. A felt coif, ornamented with a little brooch, half covered his black hair, that fell in luxuriant ringlets around his virile and browned face. His Gallic blouse, made of silken fabric striped white and purple, was held around his waist by a silver-embroidered leather belt, from which hung his curiously chiseled gold hilted sword—a veritable masterpiece of Autun goldsmithing. Upon entering his mother's room followed by Captain Marion, Victorin proceeded straight to her witha mixture of tenderness and respect. He dropped upon one knee, took and kissed one of her hands, removed his head-cover, and, reaching up his forehead for her to kiss, said:
"Greeting to my mother!"
There was so touching a charm in the young general's features and posture, there on his knee before his mother, that I noticed her hesitate for a second between the desire to embrace the son whom she adored and the inclination to express her dissatisfaction with him. She gently pushed Victorin's head back with her hand, and said in a grave voice while pointing at the cradle that stood near:
"Embrace your son—you have not seen him since yesterday."
The young general understood the indirect reproach; he rose sadly, approached the cradle, took up the child in his arms, and embraced him effusively while his eyes wandered over to his mother, as if to tell her that he was indemnifying himself for her maternal severity.
Captain Marion had drawn close to me and said in a low voice:
"After all, Victorin has a good heart. How he does love his mother! How he cherishes his child! He surely is as much attached to them as I am to my friend Eustace, who constitutes my whole family. What a pity that that pest of profligacy" (the good captain hardly ever spoke without throwing in those words) "so frequently has the young man fast in its claws!"
"It is a misfortune! But do you believe Victorin capable of the infamous act that he is charged with in camp?" I inquired from the captain loud enough to be heard by Tetrik,who, speaking with Victoria in a low voice, seemed to be reproaching her for her severity towards her son.
"No, by the devil!" was Marion's quick answer. "I do not believe Victorin capable of such indignities—least way when I see him there between his mother and child."
After carefully placing his child back into the cradle and kissing its outstretched hands, the young general said affectionately to the Governor of Gascony:
"Greeting to Tetrik! I always love to see among us my mother's wise and faithful friend."
And turning towards me:
"I knew that you had returned, Schanvoch. When I heard the news my heart filled with joy—with as much joy as I felt apprehension during your absence. These Frankish bandits have often shown us how little they respect truces and parliamentarians."
But doubtlessly noticing the sadness that still marked the visage of Victoria, her son approached her and said with as much frankness as tender deference:
"Listen, mother—before you broach the matter of Captain Marion's and Schanvoch's messages, let me tell you what I have upon my heart; it might unwrinkle your brow, and I might no longer read on it the displeasure that afflicts me. Tetrik is a kind relative, Captain Marion is our friend, Schanvoch your brother—I can here speak freely. Admit it, mother, you are annoyed that I spent the night out of the house, are you not?"
"Your disorderly conduct grieves me, Victorin—and it grieves me still more to see that my voice is no longer heard by you."
"Mother, I shall make a full confession to you; but Iswear that I have upbraided myself more severely for my weakness than you could have done yourself. Last evening, faithful to my promise of discussing fully with you the grave matters that we have in hand, I went home betimes; I had declined—Oh! heroically declined an invitation to take supper with three of the captains of the legions that recently arrived at Mayence from Beziers. Vain were all their praises of the kegs of fine old wines, of that country of winepar excellence, that they brought with them carefully stowed away in their war chariots to celebrate their safe arrival. I remained unmoved. They then tried to win me over by speaking of two strolling Bohemian songstresses, Kidda and Flora—pardon me, mother, for pronouncing the names of such women before you, but truthfulness compels me to do so. These Bohemian girls, my tempters said to me, had recently arrived in Mayence; they described them as wondrously beautiful, frisky as demons, magnificent dancers, and singers like nightingales! Certes, there was enough to tempt me in such a description."
"Ah! I see it—I see it clearly approaching, that pest of profligacy—I see it creeping towards him on its velvet feet, like a wily and hungry tigress!" Marion cried. "How I would like to make those brazen Bohemian she-devils dance on sheets of red-hot iron! It is only then they would sing tunes to suit my ears—"
"I was even wiser than you, brave Marion," Victorin proceeded to say; "I did not wish to see and hear them dance and sing in any way; I ran precipitately away from my tempters to come here—"
"It is easy to say that; run away?—that pest of profligacyhas legs as long as its arms and teeth!" the captain said. "It surely overtook you, Victorin!"
"Deign to listen to me, mother," Victorin resumed, seeing my foster-sister make a gesture of disgust and impatience. "I was only two hundred paces from the house—the night was dark—a woman wrapped in a hooded cloak accosted me."
"Now they are three!" cried the good captain clasping his hands. "We now have the two Bohemian girls reinforced by a hooded woman. Oh, unfortunate Victorin! You have no idea what diabolical snares lie hidden under those hoods—my friend Eustace would surely succumb and wind up by being hooded himself—but I would flee!"
"'My father is an old soldier,' the woman said to me," proceeded Victorin with his narrative. "'One of his old wounds opened, he is dying; he knew you as a child, Victorin; he does not wish to die without once more pressing the hand of his young general; you will not refuse such a favor to my dying father, will you?' Such was the tale of the unknown woman; she spoke in accents that went straight to my heart. What would you have done, mother?"
"Despite my dread of women's hoods, I would have gone and seen the poor old soldier," answered the captain. "Certes, I would have gone, seeing that my presence would render death sweeter to him."
"Well, I did what you would have done, Marion. I followed the unknown woman; we arrived at a rickety house; it was dark; the door opened; my female guide seized my hand; led by her, I took a few steps in the darkness. Suddenly the glare of lights fell upon my eyes and dazed me. The three captains of the Beziers legions and other officerssurrounded me. The veiled woman dropped her wraps, and I recognized—"
"One of the cursed Bohemian girls!" cried the captain. "Ha! I told you so, Victorin! Women's hoods hide frightful things!"
"Frightful? Alas, no, Marion! I had not the courage to shut my eyes. I was immediately surrounded from all sides; the other Bohemian girl ran out of a room and joined my captors. The doors were locked. I was dragged to a seat of honor at a banquet table. Kidda placed herself at my right, Flora at my left; and before me, upon a table loaded with eatables, rose one of the kegs of old and divine nectar, as the accursed fellows informed me; and—"
"And day surprised you in that fresh orgy," said Victoria interrupting her son. "You thus forgot amidst the pleasures of the table and debauchery the hour that summoned you to me! Is that an excuse?"
"No, dear mother, it is a confession—I was weak—but as truly as Gaul is free, I would have come dutifully home to you, but for the ruse by which I was misled and kept away. Will you not be indulgent towards me, mother, this once? I pray you!" saying which Victorin again knelt down before my foster-sister. "Be not so severe! I know my faults! Age will cure me! I am still too young, and my blood is still too warm. The ardor of pleasure often carries me away, despite myself—and yet, you know, mother, I would give my life for you—"
"I believe you—but yet you will not sacrifice to me your insensate and evil passions—"
"When one sees Victorin so respectful and repentant at his mother's feet," I whispered to Marion, "would one think heis the celebrated general, so dreaded by the enemies of Gaul—the general, who, at the age of twenty-two already has won five great battles?"
"Victoria," said Tetrik in his kind and insinuating voice, "I also am a father and inclined to indulgence. Besides, in my hours of recreation, I am a poet, and I wrote an ode to Youth. How could I be severe? I love Victorin's brilliant qualities so much, that I find it hard to censure him! Could you be insensible to the tender words of your son? His only crime is his youth. As he said, years will cure that—and his affection for you, his deference to your wishes will hasten the cure—"
As the Governor of Gascony was saying these words, a great noise was heard outside of the house, and the cry was soon heard:
"To arms! To arms!"
Victoria, who was seated, quickly rose to her feet, together with Victorin.
"They cry to arms!" repeated Captain Marion anxiously, and listened.
"The Franks must have broken the truce!" I cried in turn. "Yesterday one of their chiefs threatened me with a speedy attack upon our camp; I did not believe they would put their threat so quickly into action."
"A truce is never broken before its expiration, without notice is given in advance," observed Tetrik.
"The Franks are barbarians; they are capable of any act of treachery," cried Victoria rushing to the door.
It opened before an officer covered with dust, and so breathless that he could not at first utter a word.
"Do you not belong to the post of the camp's vanguard,four leagues from here?" the young general asked the officer; he knew personally all the officers of the army. "What has happened?"
"A large number of rafts, loaded with troops and towed by barks, hove in sight towards the middle of the Rhine, when, upon orders of the commander of the post, I rode hither at full speed to bring the news to you, Victorin. By this hour the Frankish hordes must have disembarked. The post that I left is too weak to resist a whole army, and must have fallen back upon the camp. While crossing the camp I cried to arms! The legions and cohorts are forming in all haste."
"It is the barbarians' answer to the message that Schanvoch took to them," said the Mother of the Camps to Victorin.
"What answer did the Franks give you?" the young general asked me.
"Neroweg, one of the principal kings of their army, rejected all idea of peace," I said to Victorin. "The barbarians are set upon invading Gaul and subjugating us. I threatened their chief with a war of extermination. He answered me insolently that the sun would not rise six times before he would fall upon our camp, set fire to our tents, pillage our baggage and carry off Victoria the Great—"
"If they are on the march upon us, we have not a minute to spare!" cried Tetrik in a fright addressing the young general, who, calm and collected, with his arms crossed over his chest, was reflecting in silence. "We must act, and act quickly!"
"Before acting," answered Victorin, "we must reflect."
"But," replied the governor, "suppose the Franks move with forced marches upon the camp?"
"So much the better!" Victorin said impatiently. "So much the better! We shall let them draw near to us!"
Victorin's answer astonished Tetrik, and I must admit, I would myself have been astonished and even alarmed at hearing the young general speak of temporizing in the presence of an imminent attack, had I not had innumerable proofs of his unerring judgment. His mother made a sign to the governor not to disturb her son in his meditation upon the plan of battle, which, undoubtedly, he was revolving in his mind, and said to Marion:
"You arrived this morning from your trip to the inhabitants on the other side of the Rhine, who are so often pillaged by these barbarians. What is the plan of those tribes?"
"Too weak to act single-handed, they are ready to join us at the first call. Fires, that we are to light either by day or night on the hill of Berak, will give them the signal. There will be men on the watch for them. The moment the signal is given they will start on the march. One of our best captains shall head a troop of picked soldiers across the river and effect a junction with them, while the bulk of our army shall simultaneously operate upon this side."
"The plan is excellent, Captain Marion," observed Victoria approvingly. "Especially at this juncture, such an alliance is of great service to us. Your eyes have, as usual, seen rightly."
"If one has good eyes, he must seek to put them to the best use possible," the captain answered with his wonted affability. "That is what I said to my friend Eustace."
"What friend is that?" asked Victoria. "Whom do you refer to?"
"I refer to a soldier—my old companion at the anvil. Itook him with me on the journey that I am now back from. Thus, instead of ruminating over my little projects all to myself, I uttered them aloud to my friend Eustace. He is discreet; by no means a fool; true enough, he is as peevish as the devil, and he often grumbles at me, whereat I profit not a little."
"I am aware of your friendship for that soldier," replied Victoria. "Your affection does you honor."
"To love an old friend is a simple and natural matter. I said to him: 'Do you see, Eustace, one day or other those Frankish skinners will undertake a decisive attack upon us. In order to protect their retreat, they will leave a body of reserve to protect their camp and wagons. That reserve will not be too large a morsel for our allied tribes to swallow, especially if they are reinforced by a picked legion in command of one of our own captains. So that if those skinners are beaten on this side of the Rhine, their retreat will be cut off on the other side of the river.' What I then foresaw is coming about to-day. The Franks are attacking us; I think we should forthwith send word to the allied tribes, and follow that with some picked troops, commanded by a captain of energy, prudence and skill—"
"That captain will be yourself, Marion," Victoria quickly put in interrupting the captain.
"I? Very well! I know the country. My plan is quite simple. While the Franks are marching upon us, I shall cross the Rhine, and there burn their wagons and cut the reserve to pieces. Let Victorin deliver battle on our side of the river; the Franks will then try to re-cross the Rhine; there they will find me and my friend Eustace ready to meet them with something else than a glad hand to help them disembark.And their hopes will be dashed when they learn that camp, reserves and wagons have all gone up in flames."
"Marion," replied my foster-sister after having carefully listened to the captain, "victory is certain if you carry out the plan with your customary bravery and coolness."
"I have great good hopes. My friend Eustace said to me in a more than usually querulous voice: 'Your plan is not so very stupid; it is not so very stupid.' I know from experience that the approval of Eustace has always brought me good luck."
"Victoria," Tetrik approached saying in a low voice and no longer able to control his uneasiness, "I am not a man of war. I repose complete confidence in the military genius of your son. But an enemy twice as strong as ourselves is drawing nearer by the minute—and Victorin, still absorbed in his meditations, decides nothing, orders nothing!"
"He told you rightly that before acting, one must think," answered Victoria. "The power of calm reflection, at the moment of danger, is the sign of a wise and prudent captain. Would it not be folly to run blindly ahead of danger?"
Suddenly Victorin clapped his hands, leaped to his mother's neck, embraced her and cried:
"Mother—Hesus inspires me. Not one of the barbarians who crossed the river will escape, and the peace of Gaul will be assured for many years. Your project is excellent, Captain Marion; it fits in with my own plan of battle, as if we had jointly conceived it!"
"What! Did you hear me?" asked the astonished captain. "I thought you were wrapped up in your own thoughts!"
"However absorbed a lover may seem to be, he always overhears what is said of his sweetheart, my brave Marion,"was Victorin's mirthful answer. "My sovereign mistress is war!"
"Again that pest of profligacy!" Captain Marion whispered to me. "Alack! It pursues him even in his thoughts of battle!"
"Marion," remarked Victorin, "we have on this side of the Rhine two hundred and ten barks of war propelled by six oars—have we?"
"About that number, and well equipped!"
"Fifty of them will suffice for you to transport the reinforcement of picked troops that you are to take to our allies. The remaining hundred and sixty, manned by ten soldier oarsmen provided with axes, besides twenty picked archers, will hold themselves ready to descend the Rhine as far as the promontory of Herfel, where they will wait for further instructions. Issue this order to the captain of the flotilla before you embark."
"It shall be done—rely upon me!"
"Carry out your plan, brave Marion, from point to point. Cut the Frankish reserve to pieces, burn their camp and wagons. Ours is the day if I succeed in forcing the barbarians to retreat," said Victorin.
"And you will, Victorin! I shall run for my friend, Eustace, and carry out your orders."
Before leaving the room Captain Marion drew his sword, presented the hilt to the Mother of the Camps and making the military salute, said:
"Touch this sword with your hand if you please, Victoria—it will be a good augury for the day."
"Go, brave and good Marion," answered the Mother of theCamps returning the weapon after she had clasped the hilt with a virile hand; "go, Hesus is with Gaul!"
"Our battle cry shall be, 'Victoria!' and it will resound from one bank of the river to the other," Marion exclaimed with exaltation; and leaving precipitately he added: "I shall run for my friend Eustace, and then to our barks! to our barks!"
As Marion was rushing out of the room, several chiefs of legions and cohorts, having learned of the landing of the Franks from the officer who brought the tidings to the camp—tidings that rapidly spread among the soldiers—hastened to Victorin in order to receive the orders of their general.
"Place yourselves at the head of your detachments," he said to them, "and march to the parade ground. I shall join you there and assign you your posts in battle. I wish first to confer with my mother."
"We well know your valor and military genius," answered the oldest of the chiefs of the cohorts, a robust old man with a white beard. "Your mother, the angel of Gaul, watches by your side; we shall await your orders confident of victory."
"Mother," said the young general in touching accents, "your pardon, here before all, and a kiss from you will give me the needed courage for this day of bloody battle!"
"The excesses of my son have often saddened my heart, as they have the hearts of you all who have known him since his earliest days," said Victoria to the chiefs of the cohorts; "I hope you will forgive him as I do."
Saying this she clasped her son passionately to her heart.
"Infamous calumnies against Victorin have floated about the camp," the old captain proceeded to say. "We gave them no credence; but, less enlightened than ourselves, the soldieris ever hasty in censure as he is in praise. Follow the instructions of your august mother, Victorin, and no longer offer a handle to calumny. We shall wait for your orders on the parade ground; rely upon us, as we do upon you."
"You speak to me like a father," answered Victorin deeply moved by the simple and dignified words of the old captain. "I shall hearken to your words as a son; your old experience guided me on the field of battle when I was still a child; your example made me the soldier that I am; to-day and always I shall strive to approve myself worthy of you and of my mother—worthy of Gaul—"
"It is your duty, seeing that we glory in you and her," rejoined the old captain; and addressing Victoria: "Will the army not see you before we march to battle? To the soldiers and to us your presence always is a good omen—and your good words fire our courage."
"I shall accompany my son as far as the parade ground—let the battle and triumph follow! Once the Roman eagles circled over our enslaved nation! The Gallic cock drove them away! And it will again drive away this cloud of birds of prey that seek to swoop down upon our Gaul!" cried the Mother of the Camps in so proud and superb a transport that, at the moment, I believed I saw before me the goddess of our land and of liberty. "By Hesus, shall the barbarous Franks conquer us? Before that happens neither a lance, nor a sword, nor a scythe, nor a club, nor a stone can have been left in Gaul! By Hesus! We shall triumph over the barbarian Franks!"
At these brave words, the chiefs of the legions, sharing the enthusiasm of Victoria, spontaneously drew their swords, struck them against one another, and cried in chorus the war cry that they had more than once intoned:
"By the iron of our swords, Victoria, we swear to you that Gaul shall remain free!—or you will never see us again!"
"Yes, by your beloved and august name, Victoria, we shall fight to the last drop of our blood."
And all left the room crying:
"To arms, our legions!"
"To arms, our cohorts!"
During the whole scene, in which the military genius of Victorin, his tender deference for his mother, the controlling influence that both she and he exercised over the chiefs of the army were displayed, I more than once cast a covert look at the Governor of Gascony, who had withdrawn into a corner of the room. Was it fear at the approach of the Franks? Was it secret rage at witnessing how idle were his calumnies against Victorin?—because, despite the blandness and skilfulness of his defense, my suspicions were not lulled to sleep—I know not; but his livid and disturbed face grew by degrees more horrid to behold. Doubtlessly, evil thoughts and impulses, that he meant to keep concealed, came to the surface in that moment. Immediately after the departure of the chiefs, and as the Mother of the Camps turned to speak with the governor, the latter strove to resume his customary mask of mildness. Making an effort to smile he said to Victoria:
"You and your son are endowed with a sort of magic power. According to my feeble understanding nothing can be more alarming than this march of the Frankish army upon our camp, while neither of you seem to be particularly concerned, and you deliberate as calmly as if the battle was to be to-morrow. And yet, I must confess, the tranquility that you display under such circumstances inspires me with blind confidence."
"There is nothing more natural than our tranquility," replied Victorin. "I have calculated the time that it will take the Franks to cross the Rhine and disembark their troops, form their columns and arrive at a place that they are forced to cross. To hasten my movements would be a mistake, a grave strategic error. Delay serves my purposes well."
Victorin thereupon turned to me:
"Schanvoch, go and put on your armor; I shall have orders for you after I shall have conferred with my mother."
"You will join me here, before proceeding to the parade ground," Victoria said to me. "I also have some recommendations to make to you."
"I almost forgot to notify you of an important thing," said I. "The sister of one of the Frankish kings feared that her brother would put her to death, and fled the camp of the barbarians. She accompanied me to ours."
"The woman can serve as a hostage," remarked Tetrik. "It is a valuable capture. She should be kept a prisoner."
"No," I answered the governor. "I promised the woman that she would be free in the Gallic camp, and I assured her of Victoria's protection."
"I shall keep the promise that you made," replied my foster-sister. "Where is the woman?"
"At my house."
"Have her sent to me after the departure of our troops. I wish to see her."
I left the room together with the Governor of Gascony. As I stepped out several bards and druids, who, adhering to our ancient custom, always marched at the head of the armies in order to encourage the troops with their songs, stepped in to confer with Victoria and Victorin.
Upon leaving Victoria's house I hastened home to arm myself and take my horse. From all parts of the camp trumpets and clarions were heard blowing signals. When I entered my house I found Sampso and my wife, whom the tidings of the landing of the Franks had speedily reached, busily engaged getting my arms ready. Ellen was vigorously furbishing my steel cuirass, the polish of which was soiled by the fire that was kindled upon it the day before by order of Neroweg, the Terrible Eagle and powerful king of the Franks.
"You are truly a soldier's wife," I said smiling to Ellen, seeing her provoked at not being able to restore the tarnished spot to the brilliancy of the rest of the cuirass. "The brilliancy of your husband's armor is your own greatest ornament."
"If we were not so much pressed for time," Ellen answered, "we would have succeeded in furbishing off this black spot. Sampso and I have for the last hour been wondering how you managed to blacken and tarnish your armor in this manner."
"They look like traces of fire," said Sampso, who was actively engaged polishing my casque with a piece of smooth skin. "Only fire can tarnish the polish of steel in that way."
"You have guessed right, Sampso," I answered her laughing and taking up my sword, my battle axe and my dagger; "there was a big fire in the camp of the Franks; those hospitable folks insisted that I draw near to the brasier; the evening was cool, and I hugged the fire a little too closely."
"I perceive that the announcement of battle throws you into a mirthful mood, my Schanvoch," put in my wife. "That is like you, I have long noticed it."
"And the announcement of battle does not sadden you, my Ellen, because you have a stout heart."
"I draw my strength from the faith of our fathers, my Schanvoch. It teaches me that we proceed to live in other worlds in the company of those whom we have loved in this," Ellen sweetly answered me while she and Sampso helped to buckle on my cuirass. "That is why I put into practice our mothers' maxim that the Gallic woman never grows pale when her brave husband departs for battle, and that she reddens with joy at his return. And if he does not return, she is proud at the knowledge that he died as a brave man, and every evening she says to herself: 'One more day has passed, one more step is taken towards those unknown worlds, where we shall meet our dear ones again.'"
"Let us not talk of absence but of return," said Sampso, offering me my casque, which she had so carefully polished with her own hands that she could have seen her sweet face in the burnished steel. "You have always been so lucky in war, Schanvoch, that I feel sure you will return to us."
"I rely on your faith, dear Sampso. I depart happy in the knowledge of your sisterly affection, and of Ellen's love. I shall return happy, above all if I shall have been able to leave a fresh mark on the face of a certain king of those Frankishskinners of human bodies, as a token of acknowledgment for the loyalty of the hospitality that he yesterday bestowed upon me. But here I am armed. A kiss to my little Alguen, and then to horse!"
As I was about to proceed to my wife's room, Sampso held me back, saying:
"Brother—what of the strange woman?"
"You are right, Sampso; I forgot all about her."
As a matter of precaution I had locked Elwig's room. I knocked at the door and called out to her:
"Shall I come in?"
I received no answer. Alarmed at the silence I opened the door. Elwig sat on the edge of the couch with her head in her hands, in the identical posture that I saw her last.
"Did sleep bring you rest?"
"There is no more sleep for me!" she answered brusquely. "Riowag is dead! I weep for my lover!"
"My wife and sister will take you at noon to Victoria the Great. She will treat you as a friend. I announced to her your arrival in our camp."
The sister of Neroweg, the Terrible Eagle, shrugged her shoulders with indifference.
"Do you need anything?" I asked her. "Would you eat or drink?"
"I want water—I am thirsty—"
Despite the priestess' refusal to eat, Sampso went for some provisions—a pitcher of water, some bread and fruits—and placed them near Elwig, who remained motionless and mute. I again locked the door and gave the key to my wife, saying:
"You and Sampso will take the poor woman to Victoria atnoon. But be careful that she is not left alone with our child—"
"Do you fear anything?"
"Everything is to be feared from those barbarian women; they are as wily as they are ferocious. I killed her lover in defending myself against him; she is quite capable of strangling my child out of vengeance."
You came running in at that moment, my child. Hearing my voice from your mother's room, you left your bed and came half naked to me with your little arms outstretched, smiling with pleasure at the sight of my armor, the brilliancy of which pleased your eyes. Time pressed; I embraced you, your mother and aunt tenderly. I then proceeded to saddle my horse, my good and strong Tom-Bras,[2]whom I named in remembrance of our ancestor Joel, who also gave the name of Tom-Bras to the spirited stallion that he rode at the battle of Vannes. Sampso and your mother, the latter of whom took you in her arms, accompanied me to the stable. Your aunt helped me to put on the bridle, and, caressing his sinewy neck, said to the war steed:
"Tom-Bras, do not leave your master in danger; save him with your swiftness, if need be; defend him like the brave Tom-Bras of old who, as he bore the brenn of the tribe of Karnak, attacked the Romans with his hoofs and teeth."
"Dear Sampso," I answered smiling as I leaped into the saddle, "do not give Tom-Bras bad advice by urging him to save me with his swiftness. A good war horse is rapid in pursuit, slow in flight. As to plying his teeth and hoofs, he does that to perfection; the Frankish horse that I captured, and that he almost tore to shreds in the stable, can testifyto that. Tom-Bras is like his master; he abhors the Franks. Adieu, dear Sampso! Adieu, my beloved Ellen! Adieu, my little Alguen!"
Casting one more look at your mother who held you in her arms, I departed at a gallop to the parade ground, where the army was assembling.
The distant sound of the clarions, and the neighing of the horses, to which he responded, enlivened Tom-Bras. He bounded with vigor. I calmed him with my voice, I patted his neck so as to control his buoyant spirits and reserve his energy for the hard day's work ahead. When I was near the parade ground I perceived Victoria about a hundred paces ahead of me. She rode with an escort of several mounted officers. I quickly joined them. Mounted on a palfrey, Tetrik rode to the left of the Mother of the Camps; at her right rode a druid bard named Rolla, whom she greatly esteemed for his bravery, his noble character and his poetic talents. Several other druids were scattered among the various army corps, and were to march beside the chiefs at the head of their several detachments.
Coifed in the light brass helmet of the antique Minerva, which was surmounted with the Gallic cock in gilt bronze holding an expiring lark under his spurs, Victoria sat with proud ease her beautiful steed, whose satin coat shimmered like silver. The housings of the prancing animal were, like its bridle, of scarlet color, they almost reached the ground and were partially covered by the long black robe of the Mother of the Camps, who seemed to inspire her mount with her own self-restraint and confidence. Her beautiful and virile visage seemed animated with martial ardor. A light flush suffused her cheeks; her bosom heaved; her large blueeyes shone with matchless brilliancy, under their long black lashes. Without being noticed by her, I joined the riders of her escort. With their banners to the breeze and their platoons of trumpeters at their head, the cohorts passed by us one after the other on their way to the parade ground. The officers saluted Victoria with their swords, the banners dipped before her, and soldiers, captains and chiefs, in short, the whole armed force cried in enthusiastic chorus:
"Greeting to Victoria the Great!"
"Greeting to the Mother of the Camps!"
Among the first soldiers of one of the cohorts that passed us, I recognized Douarnek, one of the four oarsmen of the day before who was wounded in the back by an arrow. Despite his recent wound, the brave Breton marched in his place. I pricked my horse, drew near him and said:
"Douarnek, the gods send a propitious opportunity to Victorin to prove to the army that, unworthy calumnies to the contrary notwithstanding, he is still worthy of his post."
"You are right, Schanvoch," the Breton answered. "Let Victorin win this battle, as he won the others, and in the joy of their triumph the soldiers will acclaim their general and forget many a disagreeable thing. We shall meet again, Schanvoch!"
Some Roman legions, our then allies, shared the enthusiasm of our own troops. As they passed under the eyes of Victoria their acclamations also greeted her. The whole army, the cavalry on the two wings, the infantry in the center, was soon gathered on the parade ground, a vast field that lay without the camp. It was bounded by the Rhine on one side, on the other by the slopes of a high hill. A wide road was seen at a distance. It wound its way and disappearedbehind some woody slopes. The casques, the arms, the banners, all of which were surmounted by the Gallic cock wrought in gilt copper, glistened in the rays of the sun, and presented the bright and cheerful sight that does so much to raise the soldier's spirits. From the moment that she entered the parade ground Victoria put her horse to a gallop in order to join her son, who, surrounded by a group of chiefs to whom he was issuing orders, was conspicuous in the very center of the field. No sooner had the Mother of the Camps, whose brass helmet, black robe and white steed pointed her out to all eyes, appeared before the front ranks of the army, than one loud, vast, ringing cry from fifty thousand soldiers' breasts saluted Victoria the Great!
"May that cry be heard of Hesus," my foster-sister said to the druid bard with deep emotion. "May the gods grant Gaul a new victory! Justice and right are on our side! We are not after conquest; we only defend our own soil, our hearths, our families, and our freedom!"
"Our cause is holy among holy causes!" answered Rolla, the druid bard. "Hesus will render our arms invincible!"
We rode up to Victorin. It seems to me I never saw him handsomer, or of a more martial bearing than on that morning, clad in his brilliant steel armor and with his casque, ornamented, like his mother's, by the Gallic cock and the expiring lark. Victoria herself, as she approached her son, could not keep from turning towards me and betraying her maternal pride with a look that, perhaps, only I understood. Several officers, the bearers of the young general's orders to the different army corps, left at a gallop in different directions. I drew near my foster-sister and said to her in a low voice:
"You reproach your son with no longer displaying that cool bravery that must distinguish the general of an army. And yet, watch and see how cool and collected he is. Do you not read in his masculine face the wise and cautious cast of mind of the general who will not rashly risk his soldiers' lives, or the fate of his country?"
"Your speech is sooth, Schanvoch; I saw him just as cool and collected at the great battle of Offenbach—one of his finest, one of his most fruitful victories. It was that victory that restored to us the Rhine for our frontier. It drove the accursed Franks to the other bank of the river."
"And to-day's battle will supplement the victory won at Offenbach, if, as I expect we shall, we drive off the barbarians for all time from our frontier."
"Brother," replied my foster-sister, "as always, you will not leave Victorin's side?"
"I promise you."
"He is now calm. But once the action is engaged, I fear the ardor of his blood, and his passion for battle. You know, Schanvoch, I do not fear peril for Victorin, I am the daughter, wife and mother of soldiers; all I fear is that, carried away by the heat of action, and anxious, even at the risk of his life, to achieve great deeds, he put the success of this day in jeopardy, and by his death endanger the safety of Gaul, that may otherwise be firmly established by to-day's action."
"I shall use my full powers to convince Victorin that a general must preserve himself for his army."
"Schanvoch," my foster-sister remarked with a tremulous voice, "you always are the best of brothers!"
And looking towards her son, evidently anxious that none but myself be made aware of the anxious thoughts that struggledin her maternal breast, and her doubts concerning the firmness of his character, she added again, in a low voice:
"You will watch over him?"
"As over my own son."
After the young general issued his last orders, he alighted from his horse the moment he saw his mother, walked over to where she was, and said:
"The hour has come, mother. I have taken with the other captains the last dispositions on the plan of battle that I submitted to you and which you approved. I have reserved ten thousand men under the command of Robert, one of the most experienced chiefs, for the protection of the camp. He is to receive orders from you. May the gods look down favorably upon our arms. Adieu, mother. I shall do my best—"
Saying this he bent his knee.
"Adieu, my son. Come not back, unless you come back victorious over the barbarians!"
As she said these words, the Mother of the Camps stooped down from her horse and reached her hand to Victorin, who kissed it and rose.
"Be brave, my young Caesar!" the Governor of Gascony called out to my foster-sister's son. "The fate of Gaul is in your hands—and, thanks to the gods, your hands are powerful. Furnish me the opportunity to write an ode on this fresh victory."
Victorin remounted his horse. A moment later our army set itself upon the march, with the scouts on horseback riding ahead of the vanguard. Victorin placed himself at the head of the army. We had the bank of the Rhine on our right. A few light bodies of mounted archers rode forward as scouts,to the end of guarding our left wing against a surprise. Victorin called me to his side; I drove my horse abreast his own, and as he hastened the step of his mount we were soon beyond the escort that accompanied him.
"Schanvoch," he said to me, "you are an old and experienced soldier. I wish to explain my plans to you. I confided the plan to the chief who is to take my place in the event of my being killed. I wish you also to be posted on it. You will be all the better able to help in its execution."
"I listen. Speak, Victorin."
"It is now nearly three hours since the rafts of the Franks were seen by our scouts at about the middle of the river. Those rafts, towed by barks and loaded with troops navigate slowly. It must have taken them fully an hour to reach the bank and disembark on this side of the Rhine—"
"Your calculation is correct. But why did you not hasten the march of the army in order to arrive at the spot before the Franks disembarked? Landing forces are always in disorder. Their disorder would have favored our attack."
"Two reasons kept me from doing so. I shall tell them to you. How long, do you calculate, did it take the officer, who notified us of the enemy's approach, to ride in all haste from our advanced posts to Mayence?"
"About an hour and a half. It is nearly five leagues from there to Mayence."
"And how long will it take an army to cover the same distance, even at forced marches, but not rapid enough to be tired out and breathless when it reaches the spot and offers battle?"
"It would take about three hours and a half."
"Accordingly, you will perceive, Schanvoch, that it wouldhave been impossible for us to have arrived in time to attack the Franks at the moment of their landing. Those barbarians' lack of discipline is surprising. They must have consumed considerable time in forming their ranks. This will enable us to arrive before and wait for them at the defile of Armstadt—the only military route open to them in order to attack our camp, unless they throw themselves across the marsh and the forests, where their cavalry, their principal arm, could not deploy."
"That is true."
"I temporized in order to give the Franks time to approach the defile."
"If they undertake the passage, they are lost."
"I hope so. With our swords in their loins we shall drive them back towards the river bank. Our hundred and sixty well armed barks, that left port under my orders and at the same time that we started on the march, will scatter the barbarians' rafts and cut off their retreat. Besides that, Captain Marion crossed the river with a picked body of men; he will effect a juncture with the friendly tribes on the other bank, and will march straight upon the Frankish camp, where the enemy must have left a strong reserve force together with all their wagons. These will all be destroyed!"
Victorin was thus engaged in unfolding to me his ably conceived plan of battle, when we saw several of the scouts, who were sent forward, running back to us at full gallop. One of these reined in his foaming steed and cried out to Victorin:
"The army of the Franks is advancing. It can be seen at a distance from the top of the hills. Their scouts approached the defile; they were all shot down by the arrows of ourarchers who were ambushed behind the shrubs. Not one of the Frankish scouts escaped with his life."
"Well done," replied Victorin. "Those scouts would have ridden back and warned the Frankish army of our approach. It might not then have entered the defile. But I shall ride forward and judge the enemy's position myself. Follow me, Schanvoch!"
Victorin put his horse to a gallop; I did likewise. The escort followed us; we quickly overtook and passed our vanguard, to whom Victorin gave the order to halt. We arrived at a place that dominated the defile of Armstadt. The rather broad road lay at our feet, hemmed in by two steep escarpments. The one to the right seemed cut with the pick, it rose so perpendicular over the road and formed a sort of promontory on the side of the Rhine. The escarpment to the left consisted of a rocky series of shelves, and served, so to speak, as the basis to the vast plateau through the heart of which the deep and wide gully was cut. The gully or road dipped gently till it ran out into a vast plain, bordered to the east and north by the curve of the river, to the west by woods and marshes, and behind us by the elevated plateau where our troops were ordered to halt. We presently distinguished at a great distance from where we stood and down in the direction of the plain, a large and confused black mass. It was the army of the Franks.
Victorin remained silent for a few seconds; he attentively examined the disposition of the enemy's forces and the field at our feet.
"My calculation and expectation did not deceive me," he observed. "The Frankish army is twice as large as ours. If their tactics were less savage, instead of entering the defile,as they will surely do, they would, despite the difficulty that accompanies that sort of assault, climb the plateau at several places simultaneously, and thereby compel me to divide my much inferior forces in order to attack them at a large number of places. Nevertheless, for greater certainty, and so as to lure the enemy into the defile, I shall resort to a ruse of war. Let us return to our vanguard; Schanvoch, the hour of battle has sounded!"
"And such an hour," I answered, "is always solemn!"
"Yes," he replied melancholically, "such an hour is always solemn, especially for the general, who, at this bloody game of war, plays with the lives of his soldiers and has his country's fate for stake. Come, let us ride back, Schanvoch—and may my mother's star protect me!"
I rode back with Victorin to our troops, asking myself due to what singular contradiction that young man, always so firm and so calculating at the great crises of his life, showed himself below mediocrity in the power to combat his foibles.
The young general was not long in rejoining the vanguard. After a hurried conference with the officers, the troops took their posts of battle. Three cohorts of infantry, each one thousand strong, received orders to march through the defile into the open plain, engage the vanguard of the Franks, and draw the bulk of the enemy's army into the dangerous passage. Victorin, several officers and myself stood grouped upon one of the highest bluffs that dominated the field on which the scrimmage was to take place. From where we stood we had a complete view of the immense Frankish army. Massed in a compact body, the bulk of their forces was still far away. A swarm of horsemen rode in advance and extended beyond the two wings. Our three cohorts had barely emerged from the pass into the plain when the Frankish horsemen rushed like a swarm of hornets towards them from all sides and sought to envelop them. Intent only upon taking the lead of one another, these horsemen gave the rein to their mounts, and tumultuously, without any order whatever, galloped towards our troops. When the former had drawn near enough, the latter formed themselves into a wedge in order to sustain the first shock of the cavalry; they were thereupon to feign a retreat back into the defile. The Frankish horsemen emitted such loud yells that, despite the considerabledistance that separated us from the plain and the elevation of the plateau, their savage cries reached us like a muffled roar pierced from time to time by the distant notes of their wind instruments. As ordered, our soldiers did not yield to the first impetuous attack. In an instant we could see through the thick cloud of dust, raised by the Frankish horse, only a confused mass, in the midst of which our soldiers could be distinguished by their brilliant armor. Presently our troops began to operate their retreat towards the defile, yielding the ground before them foot by foot to the swarm of Frankish assailants, who received every moment fresh accessions from the cavalry of their vanguard, while their main body began to move at a quickened step.
"By heaven!" cried Victorin, his fiery eyes fixed upon the field, "our brave Firmian who commands those three cohorts seems to have forgotten in his ardor for the fray that he was steadily to fall back into the defile so as to draw the enemy in after him. Firmian is no longer retreating; he has stopped and does not budge back an inch—he will cause his troops to be uselessly sacrificed—"
And addressing one of the officers:
"Ride quick to Ruper, and order him to proceed with his three veteran cohorts to the support of Firmian's retreat. Ruper is to order the retreat to be made rapidly. The bulk of the Frankish army is now only a hundred bow-shots from the entrance of the defile."
The officer departed at a gallop. Obedient to the orders that he carried, the three veteran cohorts speedily emerged from the defile at the double quick; they hastened to join and sustain Firmian's troops; a little later the feigned retreat was effected in good order. Seeing the Gauls yield, theFranks set up a shout of savage joy, and charged impetuously upon our cohorts. The Frankish vanguard was soon close to the mouth of the defile. Suddenly Victorin grew pale. Anxiety was depicted on his face as he cried:
"By my father's sword! Can I have been mistaken as to the barbarians' plans? Do you perceive their movement?"
"Yes," I said, "instead of following their vanguard into the defile, the Frankish army has halted; it is forming into numerous separate columns of attack, and these are marching towards the plateau! Malediction! They are resorting to the skilful manoeuvre that you feared. Oh, we have taught the barbarians the art of war!"
Victorin did not reply. He seemed to be counting the enemy's columns of attack. Thereupon he galloped back to our main army and cried:
"My boys! It is not now in the defile that we are to await these barbarians—we shall have to fight them in the open field. Fall upon them from the height of the plateau that they are seeking to climb—drive their hordes into the Rhine! They are three to our one—so much the better! This evening, when we shall be back in camp, our mother, Victoria, will say to us: 'Children, you were brave!'"
At these words, Rolla, the druid bard, improvised the following war song, which he struck up with a powerful, resonant voice:
And the several detachments of our troops ran up the plateau at the double quick to the refrain of the chant that flew from mouth to mouth until it reached the rearmost ranks.
Our army was promptly deployed on the crest of the plateau that dominated the vast plain whose edge was bordered by the curve of the Rhine in the distant horizon. Instead of awaiting the attack from that advantageous position, Victorin wished, by sheer audacity, to terrify the enemy. Despite our numerical inferiority, he issued the orders to pounce down upon the Franks from the crest of our elevated position. At the same moment, the enemy's column, which, deceived by the feigned retreat of our cohorts, had allowed itself to be lured into the defile, was being hurled back into the plain by the Gallic troops which confronted them. Our whole army thereupon reassumed the offensive, and not unlike an avalanche our full forces poured down from the summit of the plateau. The battle began; it was engaged all along the line.
I promised Victoria not to leave the side of her son. Nevertheless, such was the impetuosity with which, from the very start of the action, he dashed upon the enemy at the head of a legion of cavalry, that the flux and reflux of themelee at first separated me from him. We were at the time engaged hand to hand with a picked, well mounted and well armed body of Franks. Their soldiers wore neither casque nor cuirass; but their double jackets of hides covered with long hair and their iron-lined fur caps, were the equivalent of our own armor. These Franks fought with fury, often with stupid ferocity. I saw several allow themselves to be killed like animals while, at the hottest of the battle, they madly sought to hack off the head of some fallen Gaul with their axes in order to make to themselves a trophy of the gory spoils. I was defending myself against two of these horsemen, and my hands were full; a third barbarian, a warrior who had been unhorsed and disarmed, clinched my leg and sought to pull me off the saddle, and as he found his efforts vain bit me with such rage in the ankle that his teeth cut through the leather of my gaiter and penetrated to the very bone. Without neglecting my two mounted adversaries, I found time to deal a blow with my mace upon this third Frank's skull. Freed from him, I was vainly endeavoring to discover and join Victorin, when I descried Neroweg, the Terrible Eagle, only a few paces from me, in the melee which his gigantic stature overtowered. At the sight of that man, there thronged to my mind the recollection of the outrageous insults heaped upon me only the day before, which I had only partly avenged by smiting him over the head with a firebrand; my blood, already warm with the ardor of the fray, now seethed. Over and above the anger that Neroweg inspired in me by reason of his cowardly insults of the previous day, I experienced for the man an unexplainable, mysterious, profound hatred. It was as if I saw in him the incarnation of that thievish and ferocious race that sought tosubjugate us. It was to me, strange and unaccountable as it may seem, as if I abhorred Neroweg by reason of the future as much as of the present; as if that hatred was to perpetuate itself not only between our two races of Franks and Gauls, but also between our families, individually. What shall I say to you, my child! I even forgot the promise I made to my foster-sister of watching over her son. Instead of any longer striving to find and join Victorin, I now only strove to draw close to Neroweg. I was bent upon having that Frank's life—he alone, among so many other enemies, incited in me personally the thirst for blood. I happened at the time to find myself surrounded by several horsemen of the legion at the head of which Victorin had just charged the Frankish army with such impetuosity. Our troops were steadily pushing forward at that point, the enemy was being crowded towards the Rhine. Two of the soldiers in front of me fell under the heavy francisque of the Terrible Eagle. I now saw him across that human breach.
Clad in a Gallic armor, the spoils of one of our captains who was killed at one of the previous battles, Neroweg wore a casque of gilded bronze, the visor of which partly covered his face, tattooed in blue and scarlet. His long copper colored beard reached down to the iron corselet that he had donned over his jacket of hides. Thick fleeces of sheep, held fast by criss-crossing strips of cloth, covered his legs from the thighs down to the feet. He rode a savage stallion from the forests of Germany, whose pale yellow coat was spotted with black. The tufts of the animal's thick mane fell below his square chest; his long tail, that streamed in the wind, lashed his sinewy haunches when he reared impatient under the restraint of his bit and silver-wrought reins, also theproceeds of some Gallic spoils. A wooden buckler ribbed with iron and roughly painted in yellow and red stripes, the colors of Neroweg's banner, covered the left arm of the Terrible Eagle. In his right hand he wielded his heavy francisque that now dripped blood. From his belt hung a sort of large butcher's knife with a wooden handle, together with a magnificent Roman sword with a hilt of chased gold, doubtlessly the fruit of some raid. Neroweg emitted a roar of rage as he recognized me. Rising in his stirrups he cried out:
"The man of the bay horse!"
Thereupon, striking the flank of his courser with the flat of his axe, he caused the animal to clear with an enormous leap both the bodies and mounts of the fallen horsemen who lay between us. The leap was so violent that when his horse touched ground again, the animal's head and chest struck the head and chest of my own mount. At the heavy shock the two animals were thrown upon their haunches and both fell over. Dazed at first by my fall, I quickly disengaged myself, took my stand firmly upon my feet and drew my sword, my mace having slipped from my hands with my fall. On his part, having had to disentangle himself from under his horse, as I was forced to do, Neroweg also rose to his feet and precipitated himself upon me. The chin-band of his casque had snapped with his fall, his head was bare, his thick red hair, tied over his head, floated behind him like the mane of a horse.
"Ha! This time, you Gallic dog," he cried out as he ground his teeth and aimed at me with his axe a furious blow that I parried, "this time I shall have your life and your skin!"
"And I, Frankish wolf, I shall once more put my mark on your face, whether dead or alive, so that the devil will recognize you!"
For a long time we fought with maddening fury, all the while exchanging insults that redoubled our rage.
"Dog!" cried Neroweg. "You carried off my sister!"
"I took her from your infamous love! In the bestiality of your unclean race it couples like animals—brother with sister!"
"Dare you insult my race, you bastard dog! Half Roman, half Gallic! My race will subjugate yours, vile revolted slaves! We shall clap the yoke back upon your necks—and we shall take possession of your goods, your lands, and your wives!"
"Just look yonder at your routed army, Oh, great king! Just take a look at your packs of Frankish wolves, as cowardly as they are ferocious—just look at them, fleeing from the fangs of the Gallic dogs!"
It was in the midst of such torrents of invectives that we fought with heightening rage without either being able to wound the other. Many a furiously aimed blow had glided harmlessly down our cuirasses; we seemed to manage our swords with equal dexterity. Suddenly and despite all the maddened rage of our duel, a strange spectacle drew away our attention for an instant. After our horses had rolled to the ground under the shock that they both received, they also rose to their feet. Immediately, as is usually the case with stallions, they rushed at each other neighing wildly, and with flashing eyes sought to tear each other to pieces. My brave Tom-Bras had raised himself on his haunches, and, holding the other steed by the neck between his teeth, wasfrantically battering his belly with his hoofs. Nettled at seeing his horse at the mercy of mine, Neroweg cried out without either he or I intermitting our battle:
"Folg! Will you allow that Gallic swine to vanquish you? Defend yourself with your hoofs and teeth! Tear him to pieces!"
"Steady, Tom-Bras!" I cried out in turn. "Disfigure and kill that horse, as I shall disfigure and kill his master."
I had hardly uttered these words when the Frank's sword penetrated my thigh between skin and flesh, and it did so at the very moment when I dealt him a blow over the head that would have been mortal but for the backward move that Neroweg made in withdrawing his sword from my thigh. My weapon thus missed its full aim, but struck him over the eye, and, by a singular accident, plowed his face on the side opposite the one which already bore my mark.
"I told you so! Dead or living the other side of your face would be also marked by me!" I cried at the moment when Neroweg, whose eye was put out by my blow and whose face was bathed in blood, precipitated himself upon me, roaring with pain and rage like an infuriated lion. Having calmly made up my mind to kill the man, I did not allow myself to be carried away with elation, but met his wrathful onset by throwing myself on the defensive, and watched for the opportunity to deal him a certain and mortal wound.
We were thus engaged when Neroweg's stallion rolled to the ground under the feet of Tom-Bras, whose rage seemed to increase with his success. The animal almost fell upon us. Half a foot nearer, and we would both have been thrown off our feet.
At the same instant, a legion of our reserve cavalry, themuffled sound of whose approaching tramp had struck my oars shortly before, hove in sight. In the impetuosity of its headlong dash, the heavily armed cavalry legion rode rough-shod and trampled over everything that lay in its path. The legion was three ranks deep, and approached with the swiftness of a gale. Both Neroweg and myself were doomed to be crushed to dust; the legion's line of battle was two hundred paces long; even if I had time to leap upon my horse, it would have been next to impossible to get in time out of the way of that long line of cavalry by endeavoring to ride, however swiftly, beyond the reach of either of its wings. Escape seemed impossible from the threatened shock. Nevertheless, I undertook it, despite my chagrin at not having been allowed time to despatch the Frankish king—so inveterate was my hatred of him! I took quick advantage of the accident, that, due to the fall of Neroweg's horse, interrupted our battle a second before, and I leaped upon the back of Tom-Bras that was near me. It required a rude handling of the reins and of the flat of my sword before I could cause my courser to desist from his infuriated assault upon the other stallion that he held under and kicked and bit unmercifully. Finally I succeeded. The long line of cavalry reaching far to my right and left was now only a few paces from me. I rushed ahead of it, adding with my voice and my spurs to the speed of Tom-Bras's rapid gallop; I rode on, keeping well in the lead of the legion, and from time to time casting a look behind to see the Frankish king, and what became of him. With his visage streaming blood he sought distractedly to run after me and wildly brandished his sword. Suddenly I saw him vanish in the cloud of dust raised by the rapid gallop of the legion of cavalry.
"Hesus hearkened to my prayer!" I cried out. "Neroweg must be dead. The legion has trampled over his body."
Thanks to Tom-Bras's exceptional swiftness, I was soon far enough in advance of the cavalry line that followed me to think of imparting to my course a direction that enabled me to take my place to the right of the legion's line. I immediately addressed one of the officers, inquiring after Victorin and the turn of the battle. He answered:
"Victorin is fighting like a hero. A rider who brought to our reserve the orders to advance said to us that never before did the general reveal such consummate skill in his manoeuvres. Being more than twice our numbers, and above all displaying unwonted military skill, the Franks fought stubbornly. All the indications are that the day is ours, but it shall have been paid for dearly. Thousands of Gauls will have bitten the dust."
The officer's report was correct. Victorin again fought with a soldier's intrepidity and the consummate skill of an experienced general. I found him, his heart overflowing with joy, in the midst of the melee. Miraculously enough, he had received only a slight wound. His reserve forces, skilfully managed by him, decided the fate of the battle. The routed Franks, rolled back three leagues with our triumphant forces pressing close upon their heels, were being crowded towards the Rhine despite the stubbornness of their retreat. After enormous losses a portion of their hordes were hurled headlong into the river, others succeeded in regaining their rafts in disorder, and in towing them with their barks from the shore. But at that moment the flotilla of a hundred and sixty large vessels fell upon the fleeing Franks on the river. Upon orders from Victorin, the flotilla had sped forward,doubled a tongue of land behind which it had kept itself concealed until then, and came into action. After a number of volleys of arrows that threw the Franks on the rafts into utter demoralization, our barks boarded the rafts from all sides. The episode that took place on the floating battlefield was the last, but not the least bloody of that day. The barks that towed the Frankish rafts were sunk under the blows of battle axes; the small number of Franks who survived this supreme struggle gave themselves over to the mercy of the river; clinging to some of the planks that were loosened from their rafts, they were carried helplessly down stream.
Although cruelly decimated, still our army thrilled with the ardor of the fray as, massed along the bluffs of the river, it witnessed the enemy's disastrous rout, upon which the rays of the westering sun shed their parting light. At that sublime moment, the soldiers struck up in chorus the heroic chant of the bard to the words and melody of which they had stepped to battle in the morning:
The last strophes of the refrain were falling from the lips of our soldiers when, from the other side of the river—which was so wide at that place that the opposite bank could hardly be distinguished, veiled moreover, as it was by the rising evening haze—I noticed a gleam that, rapidly gaining in brightness and extent, soon spanned the horizon like the reflection of a gigantic conflagration.
Victorin immediately cried:
"Our brave Marion has carried out his plans at the head of his picked men and the allied tribes on the other side of the Rhine. He marched with them upon the camp of the Franks. The last reserve force of the barbarians must have been cut to pieces, and their huts and wagons given over to the flames! By Hesus! Rid at last of the neighborhood of those savage marauders, Gaul will now enjoy the sweets of a friendly peace! Oh, my mother! Your prayers have been heard!"
Victorin had just uttered these words with a face beaming with bliss, when I saw a considerable body of our soldiers belonging to different cavalry and infantry corps of the army marching slowly towards him. All of these soldiers were old men. Douarnek marched at their head. When the body had drawn near, Douarnek advanced alone a few steps and said in a grave and firm voice:
"Listen, Victorin! Each legion of cavalry, each cohort of infantry, chose its oldest soldier. They are the comrades who accompany me yonder. Like myself, they have known you from the day of your birth; like myself they have seen you as a baby in the arms of Victoria, the Mother of the Camps, the august mother of the soldiers. We long have loved you out of love both for her and yourself. We acclaimedyou our general and one of the two Chiefs of Gaul. We, veterans in war, have loved you as our son while we obeyed you as our father. And then came the day when, ever obeying you as our general and a Chief of Gaul, our love for you was less—"
"And why did your love for me decline?" Victorin interrupted, struck by the solemn tone of the old soldier. "Why, pray, did your love for me decline?"
"Because we respected you less. But if you have faults, we also have ours; to-day's battle proves it to us. We have come to make the admission to you."
"Let us hear it," replied Victorin affectionately; "let us hear what are my faults and which are yours!"
"Your faults, Victorin, are these—you love too much, much more than is meet, both wine and pretty girls!"
"By all the sweethearts that you have had, my old Douarnek, by all the cups that you have emptied and that you will still empty, why such words on the evening of a battle that we have won?" merrily answered Victorin, who was slowly returning to his natural weakness, now no longer held under by concern for the battle. "In truth! There was no need for you and your comrades to put yourselves to the trouble of reproaching me with my peccadillos. Speak up frankly, are these reproaches that are usual from soldier to soldier?"
"From soldier to soldier, no, Victorin!" resumed Douarnek with severity, "but from soldier to general, yes! We freely chose you our chief; we must speak freely to you! The more we have loved you, you, young man, the more we have honored you, all the more are we entitled to say to you: Keep yourself at the height of your mission!"