THE STRANGER.
It was in the calends of June, and yet the day had very few of the
attributes of summer. The grey rain came down heavily from the dull
leaden sky, the wind rushed in fierce gusts from the northeast, the
stream of the Danube rolled dark and rapidly, and a melancholy murmur
rose up from its waters while they hurried on to the gloomy Euxine, as
if in reply to the sad and wailing voice of the breeze. The only thing
that spoke the season of the year was the vivid verdure of the wide
green pastures, and the rich blossoms that hung upon the frequent
trees. Along the banks of the dark river, accompanied only by two
freedmen on horseback, rode Theodore, the son of Paulinus, dressed in
the deep mourning tunic and mantle of dark grey, with no ornament of
any kind upon his person except at the hilt of his sword. The same
black charger bore him with which he had departed from Dalmatia; and
pressing the noble beast onward, he cast his eyes frequently to the
opposite bank of the river.
At length he suddenly drew in his bridle, exclaiming: "There is a
raft, and if we can but make them hear we shall be secure. Dismount,
Cremera; run to the margin, and shout loudly for the boatmen."
The dark Arab, who, though rendered free by Flavia after the
earthquake, at Theodore's request, still followed the fortunes of the
young Roman with love elevated by liberty, sprang eagerly to the
ground to obey; but, to the surprise of all, ere he had led down his
horse to the shore, the raft, which they had seen moored to the
opposite bank, was put in motion by two men who had been sitting near,
under the shelter of the wood, that was there thick and tall. Onward
it came, skilfully piloted across the stream, till it approached the
shore, on which Theodore and his two followers now stood ready to
embark.
At the distance of twenty or thirty cubits, however, the raft paused,
and those who steered it gazed upon the young Roman and his attendants
with apparent doubt and surprise. Theodore pressed them to come on;
and then, perceiving that they were barbarians from the north, he
spoke to them in one of those dialects which feelings connected with
his mother's memory had made him learn and preserve, even amid the gay
amusements and deeper studies which had since had their share of his
time. She it was who had first taught his infant tongue to pronounce
those sounds so difficult for a Roman to utter: she it was who had
used those northern words towards her boy, in the early language of
affection and tenderness; and though she had died at a period of his
life when the wax on the tablets of memory is soft, and impressions
are too easily effaced, he had never forgotten the accents that he had
so dearly loved. But now, that knowledge proved not a little
serviceable. The barbarians looked up in surprise; and when he told
them, in a language they understood, to bring near their raft with
speed, as delay might be dangerous to him, they hastened to approach
the shore, and suffered him to lead his unwilling horse upon the
fluctuating and unsteady raft.
One of the attendants followed; but the boatmen seemed to doubt
whether their rude passage-boat would sustain the third man and horse;
though the large trunks of trees whereof it was composed were further
supported by skins blown out like bladders. Theodore, however, would
not leave one behind; and, though sinking deep in the water, the raft
still bore them all up.
Floating heavily upon the rushing stream, it reached the other bank of
the Danube, and a piece of gold repaid the service of the boatmen; but
though, when the foot of Theodore touched the barbaric land, he felt
the thrill of security and freedom at his heart, yet, as he mounted
his horse and gazed upon the scene before him, he paused with a
sensation of doubt and awe. The bank of the river where he stood was
clothed with smooth green turf; but both farther up and lower down the
stream might be seen high rocks; and at the distance of about a
hundred yards from the margin rose up dark, tall, and gloomy, the
forest covering the primeval earth. The proximity of those mighty
trees prevented the eye from discovering aught beyond them, except
where the ground sloped down towards the west; but there, even, no
promise of a more open country was given: for over the first forest
line, at its lowest point, might be seen a wide extent of dark gray
wood, rounded, and waving with an interminable ocean of leaves and
branches.
The desolate aspect of the wilderness fell chill upon the heart of the
young Roman; and though his resolution to pursue his way on that side
of the river was not to be shaken, yet many a difficulty and a danger,
he too well knew, lay before him. Through some part of that wood, he
was aware, had been cut a military road, when the Romans had been
indeed the sovereigns of the world; but since that time centuries had
passed, and the inhabitants of the country had changed: a thousand
uncivilized tribes filled the land which the people of the imperial
city had once possessed; and all her magnificent works had been
destroyed or neglected beyond the mere frontier of the diminished
empire. Theodore paused, and gazed upon that dark and gloomy wood,
uncertain by what path he should direct his steps, and without
remarking the keen and eager eyes with which the two barbarian
ferrymen examined him from head to foot.
At length, as he still stood scanning the forest, one of them asked
some question of the Arab Cremera; but it was couched in the language
of the Alani, and Cremera could neither comprehend nor answer. The
barbarian then advanced to the side of the young Roman's horse, and
said, in a mild and sympathizing voice, "Are you not he who was
expected?"
"I am not," replied Theodore, in the same language. "I am a Roman; but
I seek to go to Margus by the barbarian bank of the river."
"You will find it both difficult and dangerous," answered the other,
"even if you already know this land; and if you do not know it, the
lizard which climbs the rocks and trees, and glides through the
smallest space upon its onward way, might as well try to travel upon
the water. Besides, you know not whether you are welcome in the land."
"My mother was daughter of Evaric, king of the Alani of Gaul," replied
Theodore; "and wherever the land is tenanted by that nation I shall be
welcome."
The man kissed the edge of his mantle, saying, "Be you welcome!" and
Theodore continued: "Can you give me no one to guide me on my way?"
"I will see, I will see!" replied the other; and he ran swiftly up
into the wood.
Ere he had been long absent he reappeared, followed by a young man,
clad in coarse clothing and common fur, who expressed himself willing,
for a small reward, to undertake the task of guiding the stranger on
his way; and though, by his stature and complexion, very different
from those of the tall and fair Alani, Theodore discovered at once
that he was of some other tribe, and found, also, that he could only
speak a few brief sentences of their language, the young Roman was,
nevertheless, glad to put himself under the guidance of any one who
knew the country well. With the few words that he could command of the
language which Theodore had been speaking, the guide told him that it
would be a journey of two days from that spot to Margus, and that
houses where they could find refreshment and repose would be few; but
still Theodore determined to pursue his way, and the guide was at once
promised the hire that he demanded.
He made the young Roman stay while he caught and mounted a small
shaggy horse which had been straying in the wood, round a hut which
was just to be distinguished upon the upland, through the bolls of the
tall trees. No sooner had he sprung upon his beast, however, than the
whole nature of the barbarian seemed changed. Where he had been slow
and limping in his gait, he became quick and active; and setting off
at full speed through the forest, he pursued paths along which it was
scarcely possible for Theodore and his companions to follow him; so
narrow were they, so tangled, so insecure for any horse unaccustomed
to those intricate wilds.
Still poured down the rain; and as they galloped on through those dim
vistas and sudden breaks, the white mist rolled in volumes among the
trees, and each footfall of the horses produced a cloud from the
marshy grass. At length, towards the evening, the sun, some three
hours past his meridian, began to break through the heavy clouds, and
streamed down the glades of the forest, while the light vapours rolled
away, and the birds sang sweetly from the woody coverts around. In
another hour three small tents of skins were seen; and, pausing there
for a short space, the guide procured some food for the horses and
milk for the riders. The people of the tents looked wild and fierce,
and spoke the dialect of the Huns, which was unintelligible to all
ears but that of the guide. They showed no curiosity in regard to the
strangers' appearance, but they evinced that avidity which is the
peculiar vice of frontier tribes.
At the end of less than an hour the guide pointed to the sun and to
the horses; and Theodore, mounting, once more followed him on his way.
Night fell ere they again saw a human abode; but at length they halted
before a tall tower of hewn stone, which had, in former years, been a
Roman fort, built as a defence against the very barbarians who now
possessed the land. The guide tried the gateway; but finding it fast,
shouted loudly for admission. He then paused to listen if any reply
were made; and while he did so, Theodore heard afar the melancholy
roaring of the Danube.
At length some grim faces and wild fur-clad forms presented themselves
at the gate, and Theodore and his followers were led into what had
been the chamber of the guard. There was no want of hospitality--nay,
nor of courtesy of heart--shown by the rude tenants of that half
ruined building, to the young stranger who sought the shelter of the
roof that had become theirs. They lighted a fire in the midst of the
hall to dry his still damp garments; they brought forth their stock of
fruit and milk, and even some of the delicacies obtained from the
neighbouring country. Broiled fish was speedily added; and while the
men, by speaking gestures, pressed him to his food, the women touched
his mantle, and seemed by their smiles to marvel at its fineness.
Though their appearance was rude, and no comeliness of form or feature
won by external beauty that confidence which is so often refused to
homely truth, yet Theodore read in their looks that he was secure, and
lay himself down upon a bed of skins to seek that repose which he so
much needed. The freedmen lay at his feet; and all was soon silence
within those crumbling walls: but sleep, the bosom friend of youth and
happiness, grows timorous as a sacred bird after the first fell grasp
of grief. All that he had gone through within the last sad month, all
that weighed upon his mind even then, came back in the visions of the
night, and three times roused the young Roman from his light and
troubled slumbers. The first time all was still, and the light of the
blazing fire of pine flickered over the dark forms that lay sleeping
around. The next time when he woke two figures were standing between
him and the light; but one soon turned away and left the chamber,
while the other, who remained, cast some fagots on the embers, and
again lay himself down to rest. The slumber that succeeded was deeper,
heavier, more tranquil; and when he again awoke, daylight was
streaming in from above. Almost all the Huns whom he had seen the
night before had left the chamber, and one, whom he had not hitherto
beheld, stood with his arms folded on his chest, gazing upon him as he
lay stretched in the morning light.
Between Theodore and the barbarian, however, awakened, watchful, and
prepared, with his spear grasped in his hand, sat the faithful
Cremera, his giant limbs and swelling muscles all ready to start into
defence of his master on the slightest appearance of danger; but the
eyes of the Hun seemed not even to see the slave, so intently were
those small but searching orbs turned upon the countenance of the
young Roman. Even when he woke and looked up, the Hun withdrew not
that steadfast gaze; but seemed to contemplate, with eager curiosity,
the same features which he had beheld silent and cold in sleep now
wakening up into warm and speaking life.
Theodore returned the glance for a moment without rising, and, as he
lay, scanned the person of the Hun. He was shorter than the ordinary
height of the Romans; but his breadth across the shoulders was
gigantic, with thin flanks and long muscular arms. His features were
by no means handsome, and his complexion was a pale dark brown; but
yet there was something in that countenance remarkable, striking, not
displeasing. The small black eyes had an inexpressible brilliancy; the
forehead, surmounted with thin gray hair, was broad, high, and
majestic; and the firm immoveable bend of the almost beardless lips
spoke that decision and strength of character which, when displayed,
either in good or evil, commands a separate portion of respect. His
dress was nearly the same as that of the other barbarians whom
Theodore had already encountered, consisting of dark gray cloth and
skins; but the cloth was somewhat finer in texture, and the skins had
a smooth and glossy softness, which showed the young Roman that the
man who stood before him was superior to the rest of those by whom he
was surrounded. Nor had it, indeed, required the slight superiority of
his garb to teach Theodore that he beheld no ordinary man. It has been
asserted, and it may be so, that from some hidden source of sympathy,
some instinctive prescience, we always feel peculiar sensations on
first meeting with one who is destined greatly to influence or control
our fate through life; and whether such be the case or not, certain it
is that through the breast of Theodore, the moment his eyes rested on
the Hun, passed a thrill, not of fear, nor of awe, nor even of
surprise, but of strange and mingled emotions, such as he had never
known before; and, as I have said, he continued in the same recumbent
attitude, gazing firmly in the face of one who gazed so steadfastly at
him.
After a short pause, however, the Hun spoke, addressing him in the
tongue of the Alani. "Though that bed," he said, in a low, deep-toned
voice, every word of which was as distinct and clear as if spoken by a
Stentor--"though that bed must be but a hard one for the soft limbs of
a Roman, thou seemest too fond of it for such a youth as thou art."
"Thou art mistaken, barbarian," replied Theodore, springing on his
feet; "the Romans, who can lie on silken couches when they find them,
do not think the ground neither too cold nor too hard when necessary
to use it for a bed. I was weary with long journeying for many days;
otherwise the crowing cock is my awakener."
"Thou speakest the Alan tongue well," said the Hun, gazing at him from
head to foot; "and thou art in colour and in size like a northman.
Say, art thou really a Roman?"
"I am," replied Theodore; "but my mother was the daughter of Evaric--"
"King of the Alani," interrupted the Hun: "then thy father was
Paulinus, count of the offices. We have met," he added, musing; "we
have met; he is a valiant man: where is he now?"
"In the grave," replied Theodore.
The Hun started; and, after a moment's pause, replied, "I grieve for
him; he was a valiant man: how did he die?"
"It matters not," answered Theodore; "he is dead. And now, barbarian,
I would fain speed on my way, for I would be at Margus as early as may
be. Where is my guide?"
"To Margus!" said the Hun: "know you that the priest of that city--the
bishop as they call him--has offended Attila the King? know you that
Attila has demanded him from Theodosius as a slave, to set his foot
upon his neck, and trample on him?"
"I have heard such rumours as I came hither," replied Theodore; "but
it matters not to me what quarrel there may be between my uncle and
the barbarian chief. Attila will find it hard to trample on the
brother of Paulinus."
"Ay! so he is Paulinus' brother!" cried the Hun; "I do remember now he
_is_ his brother: but if thou bearest tidings from Theodosius to thine
uncle, tell him to put no faith in the arms of men who know not how to
use them; to trust not in those who daily break their promises. Tell
him that he who bade you thus speak knows full well Attila the King;
and that he will as soon abandon his prey as the hungry vulture. Your
guide is gone; but follow me; I will show you the way to Margus."
A number of barbarians were collected in the lower part of the tower
and in the open space round it; but without a word they suffered
Theodore and his freedmen, with their new guide, to proceed to a tree
under which four horses stood prepared. All passed in silence; no one
stood forward to assist; no one advanced to require recompense from
the young stranger. The Hun who accompanied him sprang on his own
horse at one bound, and then sat as if of a piece with the animal;
while Theodore drew forth a coin of gold, and beckoned forward the
barbarian who had acted the foremost part, on the preceding night, in
offering him the rites of hospitality. The man looked wistfully at the
gold piece which Theodore held out towards him, and then at the face
of his superior, who sat beside the young Roman. The horseman,
however, bowed his head, and the other instantly took the money,
uttering a number of words which Theodore did not understand, but
construed into thanks. Turning their bridles then towards the Danube,
the journey towards Margus was recommenced, the Hun leading the way at
a slow pace.
"You ride not so swiftly as our guide of yesterday," said Theodore,
after proceeding for a few minutes, with the impatience of youth and
anxiety urging him on; "remember, I would be at Margus ere nightfall."
"'Tis a three hours' journey," said the other, calmly: "you are
impatient, youth. I would fain spare the beast thou ridest; for, were
it as the gods willed it to be, it would be a noble creature, and thou
hast ridden it too long and too hard yesterday for a creature so sleek
and pampered."
"Despise it not, Hun!" said Theodore, as he saw the keen bright eye of
his companion running over the charger's limbs; "despise it not. It
has carried my father through a bloody field of battle, and has borne
me through a long and painful journey, after which it may well show
some signs of weariness; therefore despise it not, though it be unlike
the rugged brute which thou ridest thyself."
"I do not despise it," rejoined the Hun. "In former times its soft and
silken coat, its delicate limbs and weighty body, might have provoked
my scorn; but I have learned to know that all things have their uses,
and to despise nothing but vicious luxury, effeminacy, and cowardice.
I see no reason why there should not be tribes who fight, and tribes
who cultivate the land: each may be useful; and so with your horse and
mine. Mine will carry me with a swiftness, and to a distance, and for
a length of time, impossible to yours; will bear weather, and food,
and cold, under which yours would die; but, very likely, in the shock
of battle yours would bear down mine--if I did not prevent it--and,
perhaps, might perform feats that mine could never learn. It is only
when I see man debase himself to carve images, and paint pictures, and
work gold, and spend years in making a dwelling to cover his miserable
head, and lie upon the feathers of birds, and cover himself with the
woven excrements of a worm, that I now feel disgust. Gems, and jewels,
and cups of gold and silver, may be wrought by other nations, and may
be used by us; but it is the part of bold and brave men to take them
from those who are weak and effeminate enough to make them."
"I cannot argue with you, barbarian," replied Theodore; "my mind
wanders unto other things: but I have heard my father say that all the
graces and elegances of social life are the true touchstone of the
noble heart. Those who are inclined by nature to evil will become
effeminate and corrupt under their influence; while those who are
brave and virtuous only gain thence a higher point of virtue and a
nobler motive for daring. The diamond, when we throw it in the fire,
loses nothing but the dirt and dust it may have gathered, and comes
out clearer than before. A barbarian fights because he has nothing to
lose but life, which has many miseries and few enjoyments; a Roman,
because he has a duty to perform, although a thousand ties of refined
pleasures and multiplied enjoyments bind him to the life he risks."
"Therefore is it that the Romans fight so feebly," replied the Hun;
but as he saw the colour mounting in the cheek of Theodore, he added,
"Be not angry, youth: my words shall not offend your ear in a land
which thou hast sought, trusting to our hospitality. Thy father might
well speak as thou sayst he did, for he was one of those that showed
his own words true."
"Thou doest my father justice, my country wrong," replied Theodore;
"but the day may come, Hun--the day may come when Romans, rousing
themselves from the sleep into which they have fallen, may teach those
who now mistake idleness for cowardice, who take the love of repose
and peace for timidity, that the lion yet lives, though his roar has
not been heard for years."
A grim smile hung for a moment on the lip of the barbarian, and then
passed away; but he replied nothing directly to the tart answer of his
young companion. At length, as they rode along by the rushing Danube,
winding their way once more between the forests and the river, he
pointed first to the one and then to the other bank, saying, "Lo,
Roman civilization--Scythian rudeness! and yet, as thou sayst, the
time may come--nay, it may be near, when the trial will take place, of
which country produces, which habits nourish, the boldest hearts and
strongest hands. But setting that apart, I say, give me the forest and
the wild meadow, and the simple hut or tent of skins, truth, justice,
freedom: for it is my belief that simplicity and honesty are one;
luxury and falsehood are not to be divided. Look at this forest," he
continued, after a brief pause; "it seems almost impervious, yet thou
hast found a way through it; and at the foot of the hill which we are
now mounting you will find a paved road, leading into the heart of the
land. It was constructed by thy ancestors, nearly in a line with the
famous vallum Romanum; and if at any time need or fancy should make
thee wish to see the nations which live beyond this woody barrier,
follow that road, and ask for Onegisus, the friend of Attila the King.
Thou shalt find safety, friends, and protection. But see! we are at
the top of the hill, and I must leave thee. Yonder, on the other side
of the stream, where the blue mist is rolling up the mountain, lies
Margus. Lo! its many towers! Thou canst not miss the way. Now Mars
protect thee!"