But Justice holds her equal scales
With ever-waking eye;
O'er some her vengeful might prevails
When their life's sun is high;
On some her vigorous judgments light
In that dread pause 'twixt day and night,
Life's closing, twilight hour.
But soon as once the genial plain
Has drunk the life-blood of the slain,
Indelible the spots remain,
And aye for vengeance call.
"Yea," said the Bishop, "such was the universal law given to Noah
ere the parting of the nations--blood for blood! And yet, where
should we be did not Mercy rejoice against Justice, and the Blood of
Sprinkling speak better things than the blood of Abel? Nay, think
not that I blame thee, my dear brother. Thou art the judge of thy
people, and well do I know that one act of stern justice often, as
in this instance, prevents innumerable deeds of senseless violence."
"Moreover," returned the Senator, "it was by the relaxing of the
ancient Roman sternness of discipline and resolution that the
horrors of the Triumvirate began, and that, later on, spirit decayed
and brought us to our present fallen state."
By this time the procession, which had long since passed from their
sight, was beginning to break up and disperse. A flock of little
children first appeared, all of whom went aside to the slaves'
quarters except one, who came running up the path between the box-
trees. He was the eldest grandson and namesake of the Senator, a
dark-eyed, brown-haired boy of seven, with the golden bulla hanging
round his neck. Up he came to the old man's knee, proud to tell how
he had scaled every rock, and never needed any help from the
pedagogue slave who had watched over him.
"Sawest thou any barbarians, my Victorinus?" asked his grandfather.
"They stood thickly about Deodatus's door, and Publius said they
were going to mock; but we looked so bold and sang so loud that they
durst not. And Verronax is come down, papa, with Celer; and Celer
wanted to sing too, but they would not let him, and he was so good
that he was silent the moment his master showed him the leash."
"Then is Celer a hound?" asked the Bishop, amused.
"A hound of the old stock that used to fight battles for Bituitus,"
returned the child. "Oh, papa, I am so hungry."
He really did say 'papa,' the fond domestic name which passed from
the patriarch of the household to the Father of the Roman Church.
"Thy mother is watching for thee. Run to her, and she will give
thee a cake--aye, and a bath before thy dinner. So Verronax is
come. I am glad thou wilt see him, my father. The youth has grown
up with my own children, and is as dear to me as my own son. Ah,
here comes my Columba!"
For the maidens were by this time returning, and Columba, robed in
white, with a black veil, worn mantilla fashion over her raven hair,
so as to shade her soft, liquid, dark eyes, came up the steps, and
with a graceful obeisance to her father and the Bishop, took the
seat to which the former drew her beside them.
"Has all gone well, my little dove?" asked her father.
"Perfectly well so far, my father," she replied; but there was
anxiety in her eyes until the gate again opened and admitted the
male contingent of the procession. No sooner had she seen them
safely advancing up the box avenue than she murmured something about
preparing for the meal, and, desiring a dismissal from her father,
disappeared into the women's apartments, while the old man smiled at
her pretty maidenly modesty.
Of the three men who were advancing, one, Marcus AEmilius, about
seven or eight and twenty years of age, was much what the Senator
must have been at his age--sturdy, resolute, with keen eyes, and
crisp, curled, short black hair. His younger brother, Lucius, was
taller, slighter, more delicately made, with the same pensive
Italian eyes as his sister, and a gentle, thoughtful countenance.
The tonsure had not yet touched his soft, dark brown locks; but it
was the last time he would march among the laity, for, both by his
own desire and that of his dead mother, he was destined to the
priesthood. Beside these two brothers came a much taller figure.
The Arvernii seem to have been Gael rather than Cymri, and the
mountain chief, Titus Julius Verronax, as the Romans rendered his
name of Fearnagh, was of the purest descent. He had thick, wavy
chestnut hair, not cut so short as that of the Romans, though kept
with the same care. His eyebrows were dark, his eyes, both in hue
and brightness, like a hawk's, his features nobly moulded, and his
tall form, though large and stately, was in perfect symmetry, and
had the free bearing and light springiness befitting a mountaineer.
He wore the toga as an official scarf, but was in his national garb
of the loose trousers and short coat, and the gold torq round his
neck had come to him from prehistoric ages. He had the short Roman
sword in his belt, and carried in his hand a long hunting-spear,
without which he seldom stirred abroad, as it served him both as
alpenstock and as defence against the wolves and bears of the
mountains. Behind him stalked a magnificent dog, of a kind
approaching the Irish wolfhound, a perfect picture of graceful
outline and of strength, swiftness, and dignity, slightly shaggy,
and of tawny colouring--in all respects curiously like his master.
In language, learning, and manners Verronax the Arvernian was,
however, a highly cultivated Roman, as Sidonius perceived in the
first word of respectful welcome that he spoke when presented to the
Bishop.
All had gone off well. Old Meinhard had been on the watch, and had
restrained any insult, if such had been intended, by the other
Goths, who had stood watching in silence the blessing of the fields
and vineyards of Deodatus.
The peril over, the AEmilian household partook cheerfully of the
social meal. Marina, the wife of Marcus, and Columba sat on carved
chairs, the men of the family reclining on the couches constructed
to hold three. The bright wit of Sidonius, an eminent
conversationalist, shone the more brightly for his rejoicing at his
return to his beloved country and flock, and to the friend of his
youth. There were such gleams in the storms that were overwhelming
the tottering Empire, to which indeed these men belonged only in
heart and in name.
The meal was for a fast day, and consisted of preparations of eggs,
milk, flour, and fish from the mountain streams, but daintily
cooked, for the traditions of the old Roman gastronomy survived, and
Marina, though half a Gaul, was anxious that her housekeeping should
shine in the eyes of the Bishop, who in his secular days had been
known to have a full appreciation of the refinements of the table.
When the family rose and the benediction had been pronounced,
Columba was seen collecting some of the remnants in a basket.
"Thou surely dost not intend going to that widow of thine to-day,"
exclaimed her sister-in-law, Marina, "after such a walk on the
mountain?"
"Indeed I must, sister," replied Columba; "she was in much pain and
weakness yesterday, and needs me more than usual."
"And it is close to the farm of Deodatus," Marina continued to
object, "where, the slaves tell me, there are I know not how many
fresh barbarian guests!"
"I shall of course take Stentor and Athenais," said Columba.
"A pair of slaves can be of no use. Marcus, dost thou hear? Forbid
thy sister's folly."
"I will guard my sister," said Lucius, becoming aware of what was
passing.
"Who should escort her save myself?" said the graceful Verronax,
turning at the same moment from replying to some inquiries from the
Bishop.
"I doubt whether his escort be not the most perilous thing of all,"
sighed Marina.
"Come, Marina," said her husband good-humouredly, "be not always a
boder of ill. Thou deemest a Goth worse than a gorgon or hydra,
whereas, I assure you, they are very good fellows after all, if you
stand up to them like a man, and trust their word. Old Meinhard is
a capital hunting comrade."
Wherewith the worthy Marcus went off with his little son at his
heels to inspect the doings of the slaves in the farm-court in the
rear, having no taste for the occupation of his father and the
Bishop, who composed themselves to listen to a MS. of the letters of
S. Gregory Nazianzen, which Sidonius had lately acquired, and which
was read aloud to them by a secretary slave.
Some time had thus passed when a confused sound made the Senator
start up. He beheld his daughter and her escort within the lower
court, but the slaves were hastily barring the gates behind them,
and loud cries of "Justice! Vengeance!" in the Gothic tongue,
struck his only too well-accustomed ears.