THE DISCOVERY.
At the first dawn of morning, Corvinus was up; and, notwithstanding the
gloominess of the day, proceeded straight to the Forum. He found his
outposts quite undisturbed, and hastened to the principal object of his
care. It would be useless to attempt describing his astonishment, his
rage, his fury, when he saw the blank board, with only a few shreds of
parchment left, round the nails; and beside it standing, in unconscious
stolidity, his Dacian sentinel.
He would have darted at his throat, like a tiger, if he had not seen, in
the barbarian’s twinkling eye, a sort of hyena squint, which told him he
had better not. But he broke out at once into a passionate exclamation:
“Sirrah! how has the edict disappeared? Tell me directly!”
“Softly, softly, Herr Kornweiner,” answered the imperturbable Northern.
“There it is as you left it in my charge.”
“Where, you fool? Come and look at it.”
The Dacian went to his side, and for the first time confronted the
board; and after looking at it for some moments, exclaimed: “Well, is
not that the board you hung up last night?”
“Yes, you blockhead, but there was writing on it, which is gone. That is
what you had to guard.”
“Why, look you, captain, as to writing, you see I know nothing, having
never been a scholar; but as it was raining all night, it may have been
washed out.”
“And as it was blowing, I suppose the parchment on which it was written
was blown off?”
“No doubt, Herr Kornweiner; you are quite right.”
“Come, sir, this is no joking matter. Tell me, at once, who came here
last night.”
“Why, two of them came.”
“Two of what?”
“Two wizards, or goblins, or worse.”
“None of that nonsense for me.” The Dacian’s eye flashed drunkenly
again. “Well, tell me, Arminius, what sort of people they were, and what
they did.”
“Why, one of them was but a stripling, a boy, tall and thin; who went
round the pillar, and I suppose must have taken away what you miss,
while I was busy with the other.”
“And what of him? What was _he_ like?”
The soldier opened his mouth and eyes, and stared at Corvinus for some
moments, then said, with a sort of stupid solemnity, “What was he like?
Why, if he was not Thor himself, he wasn’t far from it. I never felt
such strength.”
“What did he do to show it?”
“He came up first, and began to chat quite friendly, asked me if it was
not very cold, and that sort of thing. At last I remembered that I had
to run through any one that came near me----”
“Exactly,” interrupted Corvinus; “and why did you not do it?”
“Only because he wouldn’t let me. I told him to be off, or I should
spear him, and drew back and stretched out my javelin; when in the
quietest manner, but I don’t know how, he twisted it out of my hand,
broke it over his knee, as if it had been a mountebank’s wooden sword,
and dashed the iron-headed piece fast into the ground, where you see it,
fifty yards off.”
“Then why did you not rush on him with your sword, and despatch him at
once? But where _is_ your sword? it is not in your scabbard.”
The Dacian, with a stupid grin, pointed to the roof of the neighboring
basilica, and said: “There, don’t you see it shining on the tiles, in
the morning light?” Corvinus looked, and there indeed he saw what
appeared like such an object, but he could hardly believe his own eyes.
“How did it get there, you stupid booby?” he asked.
The soldier twisted his moustache in an ominous way, which made Corvinus
ask again more civilly, and then he was answered:
“He, or it, whatever it was, without any apparent effort, by a sort of
conjuring, whisked it out of my hand, and up where you see it, as easily
as I could cast a quoit a dozen yards.”
“And then?”
“And then, he and the boy, who came from round the pillar, walked off in
the dark.”
“What a strange story!” muttered Corvinus to himself; “yet there are
proofs of the fellow’s tale. It is not every one who could have
performed that feat. But pray, sirrah, why did you not give the alarm,
and rouse the other guards to pursuit?”
“First, Master Kornweiner, because, in my country, we will fight any
living men, but we do not choose to pursue hobgoblins. And, secondly,
what was the use? I saw the board that you gave into my care all safe
and sound.”
“Stupid barbarian!” growled Corvinus, but well within his teeth; then
added: “This business will go hard with you; you know it is a capital
offence.”
“What is?”
“Why, to let a man come up and speak to you, without giving the
watchword.”
“Gently, captain; who says he did not give it? I never said so.”
“But did he, though? Then it could be no Christian.”
“Oh yes, he came up, and said quite plainly, ‘_Nomen
Imperatorum_.’”[143]
“What?” roared out Corvinus.
“_Nomen Imperatorum._”
“‘_Numen Imperatorum_’ was the watchword,” shrieked the enraged Roman.
“_Nomen_ or _Numen_, it’s all the same, I suppose. A letter can’t make
any difference. You call me Arminius, and I call myself Hermann, and
they mean the same. How should _I_ know your nice points of language?”
Corvinus was enraged at himself; for he saw how much better he would
have gained his ends, by putting a sharp, intelligent prætorian on duty,
instead of a sottish, savage foreigner. “Well,” he said, in the worst of
humors, “you will have to answer to the emperor for all this; and you
know he is not accustomed to pass over offences.”
“Look you now, Herr Krummbeiner,” returned the soldier, with a look of
sly stolidity; “as to that, we are pretty well in the same boat.”
(Corvinus turned pale, for he knew this was true.) “And you must
contrive something to save me, if you want to save yourself. It was you
the emperor made responsible, for the what-d’ye-call-it?--that board.”
“You are right, my friend; I must make it out that a strong body
attacked you, and killed you at your post. So shut yourself up in
quarters for a few days, and you shall have plenty of beer, till the
thing blows over.”
The soldier went off, and concealed himself. A few days after, the dead
body of a Dacian, evidently murdered, was washed on the banks of the
Tiber. It was supposed he had fallen in some drunken row; and no further
trouble was taken about it. The fact was indeed so; but Corvinus could
have given the best account of the transaction. Before, however, leaving
the ill-omened spot in the Forum, he had carefully examined the ground,
for any trace of the daring act; when he picked up, close under the
place of the edict, a knife, which he was sure he had seen at school, in
possession of one of his companions. He treasured it up, as an implement
of future vengeance, and hastened to provide another copy of the decree.
[Illustration: An Emblem of Paradise, found in the Catacombs.]