THE MEETING OF THE PARTED.
Across wide plains, through deep solitudes, amid dim woods, over
gigantic mountains, by the banks of the stream, and the torrent, and
the lake, among the occasional ruins left upon the footsteps of
ancient civilization and the scattered villages of barbarian hordes,
Theodore once more pursued his way. Every kind of scene but that of
the cultivated city met his eye, and every kind of weather that the
changeful autumn of a northern land can display accompanied him on his
path. The splendid October sunshine, beaming clear and kind upon the
earth, like the tempered smile of a father looking in mellow ripeness
of years upon his rising offspring; the flitting shadows of the heavy
clouds, as they swept by over the landscape, resembling the gloomy
cares and apprehensions which sometimes cross the brightest moments of
enjoyment; the dull misty deluge, pouring down from morning until
night, without interval or cessation, shutting out all prospects, and
promising no brighter time, like the hopeless existence of but too
many of the sons of toil; the brief and angry thunder-storm, rending
the stoutest trees, like the fierce passing of war or civil
contention, all visited him by turns, as he journeyed onward from the
banks of the Tibiscus, till he once more joined the Danube, at a spot
where, shrunk to a comparatively insignificant stream, it flowed on
between the countries now called Bavaria and Austria.
It was on one of those dim uncertain days, when all distant objects
are shut out from the sight, that he crossed the river a little above
its junction with the Inn, and entered upon the open country of
Bavaria. Nothing was to be seen but the flat plain which stretches
onward along the banks of the Inn; and when, after halting for the
night amid some rude huts, where the people seemed to speak the
language of the Goths, he recommenced his journey on the following
morning, the same dull cheerless prospect was all that presented
itself, stretched upon the gray back-ground of broad unvaried cloud.
His companions had now been reduced to twenty, by the larger party
having left him as soon as he was free from danger; and none but his
own peculiar attendants accompanied him, except three officers of the
household of Attila, sent with authority from that mighty and
far-feared monarch to demand a free passage for the young Roman
through whatever countries he might have to traverse. It was one of
these officers--who took care to show all kindly reverence towards a
youth who stood so high in the favour of the king--that now, pointing
forward to a little stream which flowed on to join the Inn, informed
the young Roman that along its banks was settled the nation which he
came to seek.
"And is this," thought Theodore, "this bleak wilderness the destined
habitation of my Ildica, nurtured in the lap of ease and civilization?
Is this flat, unmeaning plain, bounded by a gray cloud, all that is to
greet her eyes after the splendours of the Adriatic shore and the
marvellous beauty of Salona?" And with a deep sigh he thought of the
regretted past.
Ere he had ridden on a quarter of an hour longer, however, a light
wind sprung up; and rising, like a curtain drawn slowly up from some
picture of surpassing beauty, the veil of clouds was lifted to the
south, displaying as it rose, robed in the magic purple of the
mountain air, the wild but splendid scenery of the Bavarian Tyrol.
A few moments more brought the young Roman to a congregation of small
wooden houses, not far from the first gentle slopes that served to
blend the plain with the highlands. A fair girl, with whose face
Theodore felt as if he could claim kindred, paused, with a basket of
milk in her hand, to gaze upon the troop of horsemen who were passing
by, but without any sign of fear. Theodore asked her some question
concerning the road, and she replied lightly and gayly, with the
milkmaid's careless glee, speaking the pure Alan tongue in accents
that made the young Roman's heart thrill again to hear. He rode gladly
on his way, assured by those tones that he was at length once more in
the same land with her he loved. That land, he knew, was of no very
great extent, and therefore he had not any cause to anticipate a long
and painful search; but still the eager thirst with which young
affection pants towards its object made him anxious not to lose a
single moment in any unnecessary delay; and he determined, as they
wound onward towards the little capital of the mountain tribe, to
inquire, wherever he came, for the dwelling of the Roman family, whose
arrival in the land, he doubted not, had excited no small rumour and
attention.
There remained yet two hours to sunset, when, passing through some
gentle hills, Theodore suddenly found himself on the banks of a small
but beautiful lake, surrounded on three sides by the mountains. The
shore, at the spot where he stood, was low and sandy, with here and
there a fringe of long reeds, mingling the water with the land, but on
all the other sides the banks were more abrupt. From the lake up to
the very sky on those three sides stretched the upland, rising in
different ranges, like Titan steps whereby to scale the heavens, but
divided at different angles by intervening valleys, up which was seen
the long blue perspective of interminable hills beyond. The first step
of that mountain throne, carpeted as if with green velvet, by pastures
still unimbrowned and rich, was covered with sheep and cattle feeding
in peace. Beyond that appeared a range, clothed with glowing woods of
oak, and elm, and beech, filled with the more timid and gentle
inhabitants of the sylvan world; while above, tenanted by the wolf,
the fox, and other beasts of prey, stretched wide the region of the
pine and fir; and, towering over all, gray, cold, and awful, rose the
peaks of primeval granite, with nothing but the proud eagle soaring
between them and heaven. Below, the lake, unruffled by a breeze, lay
calm and still, offering a mirror to the beauty of the scene, where
every line of picturesque loveliness was reflected without a change,
and every hue of all the varied colouring around, from the rich brown
of the autumnal woods to the purple of the distant mountains, and the
floods of amber and of rose that evening was pouring along the glowing
sky.
Upon the lower range of hills many a wooden cottage, neat and clean,
was to be seen; and several villages, peeping from the first woods,
varied the scene with the pleasant aspect of intelligent life; and as,
winding round the left shore, the young Roman and his companions
advanced towards a spot at the other end of the lake where they
proposed to pass the night, a thousand new beauties opened out upon
their sight. Theodore gazed around, thinking that here indeed he could
spend his days in peace; and, perhaps, he might envy the shepherd-boys
that looked down upon him from low flat-topped hills under which he
passed, or the women and girls who, sitting by the cattle at pasture,
roused themselves for a moment from their pleasant idleness to mark
the troop of horsemen passing by.
At length, upon the verge of a smooth meadow, which covered the summit
of a steep green hill at the foot of the higher mountains--jutting out
in the form of a small promontory above the road he was pursuing, with
the green edge cutting sharp upon the blue mountain air beyond--he
beheld a group of people gathered together, apparently enjoying the
evening sunshine. Neither sheep nor cattle were near; and though the
dark line of the figures, diminished by distance, were all that
Theodore could see as they stood on the clear, bright back-ground, yet
in those very lines, and in the graceful attitudes which the figures
assumed as they stood or sat, there was something so Grecian and
classical, so unlike the forms offered by a group of barbarians, that
the heart of the young Roman felt a thrill of hope which made it beat
high.
Suddenly reining in his horse, he stopped to gaze; the glad hope grew
into more joyful certainty; and, without further thought or
hesitation, carried away by feelings which refused control, he urged
his horse at the gallop up the steep side of the hill, nor paused,
even for a moment, till he had reached the summit. The Huns gazed with
surprise from below, and beheld him, when he had arrived at the top,
spring from his horse in the midst of the group which had caught his
attention, and, with many an embrace and many a speaking gesture,
receive his welcome to the bosom of ancient affection.
"He has found his home!" they said to one another as they saw his
reception; and, winding round by a more secure path, they followed up
to the summit of the hill, perceiving, as they ascended, a number of
beautiful mountain dwellings congregated in the gorge of a ravine
behind.
Oh who can tell what were in the mean time the emotions which agitated
the group above! To Theodore it was the fruition of a long-cherished
hope. He held his Ildica in his arms, he pressed her to his heart, he
saw those dark and lustrous eyes, swimming in the light of love's
delicious tears, gaze at him with the full, passionate earnestness of
unimpaired affection; he tasted once more the breath of those sweet
lips, he felt once more the thrilling touch of that soft hand. She was
paler than when he had left her, but in her countenance there was--or
seemed in his eyes to be--a crowning charm gained since he last had
seen it. There was in its expression a depth of feeling, an intensity
of thought, which, though softened and sweetened by the most womanly
tenderness and youthful innocence which human heart ever possessed,
added much to the transcendent beauty that memory had so often
recalled. In her form, too, there had been a slight change, which had
rendered the symmetry perfect without brushing away one girlish grace.
Flavia, too, had a part in his glad feelings, as with the full measure
of maternal tenderness she held him in her arms, and blessed the day
which gave him back to those who loved him. Eudochia also, over whose
head the passing months had fled, maturing her youthful beauty, clung
round her brother, and with eyes of joyful welcome gazed silently up
in his face.
Ammian was not there: gone, they said, to hunt the izzard and
wild-goat among the highest peaks of the mountain; but the slaves and
freedmen who had followed Flavia still, through every change of
fortune, drew closer round, and with smiling lips and sparkling eyes
greeted the young Roman on his return among them. It was not long ere
his attendants joined him; and as there was much to be inquired and
much to be told on all parts, Flavia speedily led the way to the
dwelling which she had obtained in the land of the Alani; and
Theodore, with Ildica's hand clasped in his, and Eudochia hanging to
his arm, followed to the little group of houses which filled the gorge
above.
Oh what a change from the palace of Diocletian! the marble columns,
the resplendent walls, the sculptured friezes, the rich-wrought
capitals! All was of woodwork, neat, clean, and picturesque: spacious
withal, and convenient, though simple and unassuming. Within, Flavia,
and her children and attendants, had laboured hard to give it the
appearance of a Roman dwelling, trying, by the presence of old
accustomed objects, to cheat memory and banish some of her sad train
of regrets; nor had they been unsuccessful in producing the appearance
they desired, for all that they had brought from Salona, and which,
under the safe escort of the Huns, had been conveyed from the
neighbourhood of Margus thither, enabled them to give an air of Roman
splendour to the interior of their rude habitation.
In the village Theodore's attendants found an abode, while he himself,
once more in the midst of all he now loved on earth, if we except
Ammian, sat down to the evening meal, and listened eagerly to the
details of everything that had occurred to Flavia and her family since
he parted with them on the verge of the barbarian territory. Their
journey had been long and fatiguing, the matron said, but safe and
uninterrupted, and their reception among the simple mountaineers had
been kind and tender. The choice of a dwelling had been left to
themselves; and though the capital of the tribe was situated in the
valley of the Inn, they had fixed upon the spot where they now were
for their abode as one less subject to the passage of strangers or to
the inroads of inimical neighbours.
The most important part of the tale, however, was to come: scarcely a
month ere Theodore had arrived, ambassadors from Valentinian had
presented themselves at the court of the King of the Alani, and Flavia
and her family had held themselves for a time in even deeper
retirement than before; but, to their surprise, one morning the envoys
appeared at their dwelling by the lake, and the Roman lady found, with
no slight astonishment, that Valentinian was already aware of her
residence among the Alani. The mission of the ambassadors to the
barbarian chief was one of small import, but to Flavia they bore a
message from the emperor of unwonted gentleness. He invited her to fix
her abode in the Western empire; promised her protection against all
her enemies, and full justice in regard to all her claims; nor could
she doubt, from the whole tenour of his message, that, with the usual
enmity of rival power, even when lodged in kindred hands, whoever was
looked upon as an enemy by Theodosius, was regarded as a friend by
Valentinian. Flavia, however, without absolutely refusing to accept
the fair offers of the emperor, had assigned as a motive for delaying
to reply, that she expected daily to receive tidings from the son of
Paulinus.
Theodore mused at these tidings; but Eudochia, who with childless
thoughtlessness looked upon all that happened to themselves as of very
little import whenever it was over, now pressed eagerly to hear the
adventures of her brother since they had parted; and Ildica also, with
a deeper interest than common curiosity, looked up in his face with
eyes that seemed to say, "I have waited long, beloved, that you might
be satisfied first, but oh, make me a sharer now in all that has
occurred to one far dearer than myself."
Theodore needed no entreaty, but began his story, and with minute
detail related all that had occurred to him during the last few
months. Was there any part of that history which he did not tell, any
of the events that had checkered his fate which he omitted in his
narration? There were! A feeling of tenderness, of interest, of
gratitude, kept him silent upon some points of the history of Bleda's
daughter. He spoke of Neva, indeed; he told how she had nursed him in
sickness, and how she had delivered him from captivity; but he could
not, and he did not tell, while many an ear was listening, that she
had bestowed the first love of her young heart upon one who could not
return it.
Flavia hearkened to the tale, and at that part of it which related to
Bleda's daughter her eyelids fell a little over her eyes. It was not
that she doubted Theodore, for there was a simplicity and candour in
all he said which admitted no suspicion; but she deemed how it was,
and for the sake of the poor girl she was grieved that it should be
so. Ildica, possessed but by one feeling, suspected and divined
nothing; her only comment was, as she heard of his danger and escape,
"Oh, why was it not I to whom the means of saving you were given?"
"Thank God, my Ildica," replied Theodore, "that you were far from such
scenes and such dangers." But, as he was proceeding to conclude his
tale, there were quick steps heard without, and the voice of Ammian
singing gayly as he returned successful from his mountain sport.