We will join the drinking Germans above, rather than the Tribune raging
in impotent wrath below the marble floor.
"Welcome in victory, ye brave Bajuvaren!"
"For that we thank you, ye clever Alemanni!"
"Did we not entice them out well?" said another comrade in arms. "First
of all we--that is, Liuthari, our famous king's famous son, and two of
his followers--surprised a post of five Moorish horsemen, whom the
Tribune of the Capitol had sent out against us as spies. But we know
the forests better than those brown Africans. Four were dead, or
prisoners, before they were aware of it. One escaped--alas! But it
seems he was not able to tell much. Then a little company of us slipped
across the river--an Alemannian horse can swim like a swan--and
galloped to you Bajuvaren in the eastern mountains, in order that at
the right time the call of the heron should be answered by the cry of
the eagle."
"And this time you also, ye heavy-stepping Bajuvaren, contrary to your
manner and custom, actually came at the right time," teased Suomar,
another Alemannian.
Fiercely the Bajuvaren put his hand to the battle-axe in his girdle.
"What does that mean, thou Suevian blockhead? It is my opinion we have
come early enough to cut you down--you as well as all others who wait
long enough! Although you are so quick in thought and hasty in words,
many times already you have not had limbs quick enough for flight, to
escape from us, if we are slow."
Provoked thus, the other was going to answer angrily, but Vestralp, the
first Alemannian, interposed soothingly: "Never mind, both of you;
thou, my Suomar! and thou, brave Marcoman! Once there, the Bajuvaren
fight so splendidly that they make up for lost time."
"They have often shown that!" cried Rando, a third Alemannian.
"The last time," continued Suomar, "just now, in the market-place, and
on the steep path up to the citadel, against the cavalry of the
Tribune."
"Listen! What was that?"
"Yes! did not a groan come out of the ground?"
"There!--at the left by the altar."
"Look! behind the altar! Perhaps some one wounded."
Two warriors hastened to the spot and looked behind the altar, but they
found nothing.
"But what lies there in front--on the steps?"
"A dead man."
"A Roman?"
"A priest, as it seems."
"The slaves must have done that; the rioters who joined themselves to
us when we had climbed the walls," said Helmbert, an aged leader of the
Bajuvaren. "They are now the guides to the richest booty."
"Take the corpse away! On the stone steps is the best place to sit and
drink," said Helmdag, his son.
"Dare to do it, thou blasphemer! That is the table of the most exalted
Lord of Heaven," threatened Rando.
"It is not true," cried Helmdag. "Thou art a Catholic. This is a
heretic church, more harmful than any abominations of heathenism. So my
Gothic godfather, the Bishop of Novi, teaches me."
"Thou stinking Arian!" answered Rando. "Thou denier of Christ! I will
teach thee to give to the Lord Christ equal honour with the Father. I
will fill thy mouth with my fist, and with thine own teeth as well!"
"With us the son always stands behind the father," growled Helmdag.
"Peace! both of you," commanded Vestralp, "fill your mouths with Roman
wine. Bring the skin, Crispus, thou Roman hero! Do not untie it! A
stroke with the sword. So! It spouts like red blood out of wounds! Now
the helmets and hollow shields, until the noble Roman in the buck's
skin is exhausted. And as concerns the strife about the two stone
steps, I think that a good man honours everything that is sacred to
another. Therefore, brothers, we will all draw back from those steps."
"But the gold and silver on the walls, on the pillars and stone
coffers?" said Helmdag, the Arian.
"Perhaps that is to stay for the plundering slaves?" said Rando the
Catholic.
"No!" cried the enlightened pagan, who had spoken for peace--it was
Vestralp, the vanquisher of the helmeted Crispus--"that would be a
pity. We will divide it amongst us all: for the God Ziu, for the Romish
Bishops, and for the followers of Arius."
And they immediately set to work with the bronze helmet, or deer-skin
cap, full of red wine in the left hand, the battle-axe in the right.
Drinking heartily during their work, they broke away from the
sarcophagi, holy shrines, and even from the columns, all that was
valuable of the metal ornaments and jewels, and also the stones that
pleased the eye by their variegated colours.
Garizo, a young, slim, tall Bajuvaren, lifted from the neck of a Saint
Anne her necklace of heavy gold and sapphires, giving at the same time
a deep bow, and saying:
"With thy permission, holy goddess, or whatever else thou mayest be;
but thou art horribly ugly, and of dead stone. What one sees of thy
bosom is yellow; but my bride Albrun is alive and young, and
wonderfully beautiful; and very pretty will these stones look on her
white neck."
"Yes, but where are they then, your women and children, and unarmed
folk?" asked Vestralp of the busy bridegroom.
"They will come to-morrow down the eastern mountains," answered Garizo.
"For this we have at last found out, 'slow-moving' as we are, as thy
hasty-tongued comrade just now said--this we have now learnt: to send
the men forwards into the battle, and let the unarmed come afterwards
when the victory and land is won."
"There must be something in it," laughed Vestralp, "in this name
'slow-moving,' because it vexes you so. If one called you a coward, you
would only laugh and strike him down. You are a strange people! No
other race so calm, and at the same time so terrible in anger."
"I will tell thee," spoke thoughtfully Helmbert, the white-bearded. "We
are like the mountains; they stand quiet, whatever goes on round about
them. But if the tumult within gets too vexatious, they overturn in
rocks and fire."
"You have shown this time that you also can be cunning and crafty,"
cried Suomar. "With what artful care did you prevent the enemy getting
scent of your approach! So sharply did you watch all the roads, and
even the mule-tracks and the paths of the chamois-hunters, that no
intelligence from the east could reach Juvavum."
"And not to make the Romans suspicious at the absence of all news,"
added Helmbert, "we sent our own Roman settlers disguised like peasants
and workmen, as if they were the people from Ovilava and Laureacum,
into the town, there to buy and sell."
"And if these had revealed all?" asked Suomar.
"Their relatives left behind would have been put to death. That was
said plainly enough to them. But besides this, the poor people would
rather support us than their Roman tormentors."
"The burghers of the town soon gave up the contest; they find
themselves under a new rule; as they see, we do not eat them," said
Helmdag, laughing.
"Yes; _only_ the cavalry and foot-soldiers of the Tribune fought
bravely, and with exasperation," said Rando.
"Tell us about it," urged Vestralp. "We, who fought on the other side
of the river, do not know yet exactly what happened within the walls,
or how the citadel fell so quickly."
"By the sword of Ziu, it was wonderful!" began Rando. "There, on the
great square, where the Christian saint stands with lion's skin and
club"----
"_That_ a saint! That is a heathen god!"
"No; a demi-god."
"All the same to me," continued Rando; "he did not help the Romans,
whether saint, or god, or demi-god. But we were surprised on that
market-place. After we, some twenty Alemanni, with the Bajuvaren--they
can climb like cats, these mountain huntsmen of Bajuhemum--had
clambered over the walls, we thought all was over. But when we came to
the open market, there came galloping towards us, in close order, with
the crashing sounds of the tuba, the cavalry of the Tribune. He himself
was not to be seen; it was said, he lay ill in the citadel; but he was
not taken prisoner there. We were at first very few, and it was only
with difficulty that we could stand against them. But we gradually
pressed them back; step by step they were forced upwards towards the
Capitol. But then came the Isaurian infantry to their help, and it was
now a fearful struggle--man against man. Ah! I have again seen them
fight with their Wotan's fury, these Bajuvaren."
"Say, rather, lion's courage," interposed proud Helmdag the Bajuvaren,
"for we carry the lion on our standard, and lion's courage in our
hearts."
"How come you with the southern beast? I think the bear stands nearer,
and more resembles you."
"Thou thinkest that, forsooth, thou sharp-witted Suevian!" said old
Helmbert, coming to his son's help, "because you know so much more than
we; but you do not know everything. Three hundred years ago one had not
heard the name of the Alemanni; but our ancestors, the Marcomanni, had
already long fiercely fought with the Romans. And at that time victory
cradled itself on the wings of the golden eagle. There was, in the
golden house of Nero on the Tiber, a great, wise Emperor skilled in
magic. He had found out, by his magical arts, that if he made two lions
swim across the Danube, the bravest people on the earth would conquer
in the impending battle. But our fathers, the Marcomanni, said: 'What
yellow dogs are these?'--killed the lions with clubs, and afterwards
slew the army of the Emperor and his general: twenty thousand Romans
lay dead on their shields. The clever Emperor in Rome knew then which
was the bravest people on the earth. And since then we carry two lions
on our colours. So sing and tell our bards. Now, continue, Suevian."
"That I will, to your glory! Like cats--or if thou, Helmdag, wouldst
rather hear it, like lions--sprang the Bajuvaren on to the necks of the
Moorish horses, and allowed themselves to be dragged along rather than
let go. 'Give to Loge his due,' says a proverb that I have heard among
the Anglo-Saxons: the Moors and Isaurians fought desperately, man by
man covering the narrow, steep path which only offered space for two
horses. At last the Duke came to our help; he brought fresh troops, and
now in a sudden attack with levelled spears, pushing our way between
the horses, we scattered the whole entangled mass. The Bajuvaren now
used their short knives in a hand-to-hand conflict. They ran under the
long lances of the Isaurians, sprang on to the saddle of the fully
armed Moorish horsemen, and in face and throat--the only vulnerable
part--thrust the blade of their daggers; on both sides, now right, now
left, fell the enemy, horse and man, over the low breastwork of the
Roman wall on to the jagged rocks in the depths below. Nevertheless the
battle might have lasted long around the citadel; indeed, hunger alone
would have subdued those rock walls if the rest of the enemy, who now
at last fled, had gained the gate. But they did _not_ succeed in
getting within it. A great deed was done by the hand of a Bajuvarian
boy; I saw it plainly: having been overtaken by the Bajuvaren, I was,
at last, no longer fighting, but was watching the gate of the fortress,
which, high above me, was distinctly visible. I then saw that one of
the two Isaurians who there stood on guard, ran towards his fleeing
comrades; his movements plainly indicated that he was urging them to
still hastier flight into the fortress, before the barbarians should
press in with them. The other Isaurian stood on the threshold, holding
the iron bolt in his hand, ready to close the half-door from the inside
and draw the bolt as soon as the fugitives had poured in. Then,
suddenly, as if struck by lightning, the man fell forward on his face:
he stood up no more. Immediately afterwards appeared a boy with fair
hair on the tower above the gateway; he cut down with a battle-axe the
imperial purple standard, and in place of the fallen banner planted, on
a tall spear, which shone afar, a blue shield.
"'My Hortari,' then cried Garibrand, the Duke, 'my brother's son,
stolen many weeks ago, and thought dead! _His_ shield, the victorious
blue shield of our house, of our family. Forward, ye Bajuvaren! Now to
cut our way to Hortari!'
"But there was nothing more through which to cut our way; the Tribune
was not there; the slaves of the Tribune were also not to be found in
the fortress: the brave child was the only human being inside the
Capitol. The fight before the gate was over immediately; the enemy shut
out, powerless, one man springing on the back of another trying to
climb the high walls, pressed still harder by us, soon threw down their
arms and yielded. A few certainly, despairing of grace, or despising
it, spurred their horses from the steep path into the abyss below. The
gate of the citadel of Juvavum flew open from the inside, and young
Hortari sprang into his uncle's arms; this youth of the Bajuvaren had
won for his people the Capitol of Juvavum."
"Hail to the youth Hortari! The minstrels will have him in
remembrance!"
"Hail to the youth Hortari!" sounded loud through the wide halls of the
Basilica.
When the joyous cry had died away, quarrelling words were heard at the
farther end of the building.
In the apse behind the altar, two, flushed with wine, were in loud
strife.
In a chest containing Roman memorials, which the zealous Johannes had
taken away from his flock, in order to wean them from their pagan
superstitions, the two men had found a small, beautifully-carved marble
relief, representing the three Graces tenderly clasping each other.
They had seized the piece of sculpture; and screaming and shouting, now
dragged and pulled each other through the church till they stood before
Vestralp and Helmbert.
Then one of the disputants let fall the marble and flashed his short
knife against his opponent, who immediately dropped the plunder and
seized the hand-axe in his girdle.
"Halt, Agilo!" cried Vestralp, seizing the arm of his fellow tribesman.
"Stab _Romans_, if thou wilt, not Alemanni," shouted Helmbert, and
struck down the knife of his countryman.
"Well! You shall decide," cried both disputants with one breath.
"I saw it first," cried the Alemannian. "I wished to hang it on my
favourite horse as a breast-plate."
"But I took it first," retorted the other. "They are the three
fate-spinning sisters. I should hang it up over my child's cradle."
"The strife is easily settled," said Vestralp, picked up the three
Graces from the floor, took the axe from the hand of the Alemannian,
aimed well, and cut the relief exactly through the middle.
Helmbert seized the two pieces and said:
"Forasitzo, Wotan's son, who is the judge in Heligoland, could not have
divided it more evenly; there, each of you has a goddess and a half.
Now go and drink reconciliation."
"We thank you very much," said the combatants, again unanimous and
highly satisfied.
"But there is no more wine," complained the Alemannian.
"Or I should have drunk it long ago," sighed the Bajuvaren.
"Heigh, Crispe, son of Mars and Bellona," cried Vestralp, "where is
there wine--more wine?"
Crispus came panting. "Oh, sir, it is incredible! But they have
actually drunk it all! The prudent Jaffa," whispered he, "has still a
very small skin of the very best; but that is for thee alone, because
thou hast saved my life." He continued aloud: "There is a large stone
jug full of water; if we mix that with the last dregs in the wine-skins
there will still be abundance of drink."
But Vestralp raised his spear-shaft and shattered the great jug so that
the water ran in a stream. "Let the man be cut off from the race of the
Alemanni," cried he, "who at any time mixes water with his wine! That
special wine," continued he quietly to Crispus, "the poor Jew himself
shall keep. Let him drink it himself, after all his fright."
Then there sounded from outside the call of the great ox-horn. And
immediately afterwards the door of the church was thrown open. A
gigantic Bajuvaren stood on the threshold, and cried with a loud voice:
"You are sitting there and drinking in blissful indolence, as if all
was over; and yet the battle is again raging in the streets. The slaves
of the Romans! They are burning and destroying, while the town is
_ours_! Protect your Juvavum, men of Bajuhemum! So commands Garibrand,
the Duke."
In an instant all the Germans had seized their arms, and with the loud
cry, "Defend the Juvavum of the Bajuvaren!" they rushed out of the
church.
When the last footstep had long died away, the marble slab was
carefully raised; the Tribune climbed out. The man so brave, so fond of
war, had suffered the bitterest torments of humiliation during this
long time. Was he not a Roman, and did he not know his duty? It stung
his honour as a soldier that he, blindly following his own passions,
pursuing only his _own_ object, had made the victory so easy for the
barbarians. His looks were sullen; he bit his lips. "My cavalry! the
Capitol! Juvavum! vengeance on the priest! victory! all is lost--except
Felicitas! I will fetch her; and away, away with her over the
Alps!--Where may my Pluto be?"
Leo crept through the priest's house into the narrow street, and
carefully sought the shadow of the houses. It was beginning to get
dark, so long had the drinking bout above his head detained him a
prisoner. Like a slinking beast of prey, stooping at every corner, and
with a spring quickly gaining the side of the opposite street, he
avoided the large open squares and crowded streets. He then heard, in
the distance, the roaring noise of confused voices. He looked back;
flames were rising into the heavens, already darkened with smoke.
The Tribune hastened to gain the north side of the ramparts; to find
the Porta Vindelica unoccupied he could not hope, even from German
recklessness; but he knew the secret mechanism by which, without key, a
small sortie-gate could be opened which led into the high road to
Vindelicia. This doorway he now endeavoured to reach. Unchallenged,
unseen, he mounted the wall, avoiding the steps; opened the door;
closed it again carefully; slid down the steep slope, and gained the
moat, which, formerly filled with water, had now--the sluices were all
destroyed--lain dry for tens of years. Weeds and bushes above a man's
height grew therein.
He had hardly reached the bottom of the moat when a loud neighing
greeted him out of a willow-plot; his faithful horse trotted towards
him, nodding its head.
Two other horses answered out of the bushes.
Immediately afterwards two men crept out of the thicket, crawling along
the ground on all-fours. It was Himilco the centurion, and another
Moor.
They beckoned to him silently to follow them into the hiding-place.
They had escaped into the moat after the dispersion of their troops by
the Bajuvaren. The black steed had followed the two other horses, the
man in charge of him having fallen.
Since then they had remained hidden among the thick bushes of the moat.
"The first gleam of light on this black day," said the Tribune. "We
three will fly! Come! There to the left the river approaches the moat.
The horses can easily reach it with a leap, and then swim across. I
must go to the Mercurius hill, down the Vindelician road; then--over
the mountains!"
"Sir," implored Himilco, "wait till night. Twice already have we tried
to escape by that way. Each time we were observed by the Alemannian
horsemen, who incessantly march before the gates to seize fugitives;
each time it was only with the greatest difficulty that we regained our
shelter. Only in the darkness of the night can we venture."
The Tribune was reluctantly obliged to acknowledge this counsel as
well-grounded. "At night," said he to himself, "I shall be better able
to carry off Felicitas." So, impatient enough, he determined to await
the darkness in this hiding-place.