The experienced commanders had executed their tasks swiftly, skilfully,
and successfully. Arbon, the strongly fortified station of the great
military road, had, it is true, been repeatedly attacked, plundered,
and set on fire by the Alemanni in swift forays from the lake, but
never permanently occupied; they did not like to dwell in cities.
A few years previously Valentinian, Gratianus's warlike father and
predecessor, had repaired and strengthened the old walls, increased the
garrison, filled the store-houses with provisions, especially grain,
and stationed in the harbor a number of ships. These, though neither so
numerous nor so stately as those of the Venetian Fleet in the prouder
days of Rome, were quite sufficient to prevent the Barbarians from an
attack by water, nay, they constantly threatened them with a landing on
the northern shore.
The commander of the division intended for this fleet, the Comes of
Britannia, Nannienus, a man skilled in nautical matters and an
excellent officer, had reached the harbor fortification with his troops
very quickly by the excellent road from Windisch. The other column
needed a much longer time for its wearisome march, turning finally
eastward before it again reached the shore of the lake.
Caution was the first requisite during this advance through the
pathless land of the Barbarians; and no measure of prudence was omitted
by the well-trained, circumspect leaders. Natives of the country who
were perfectly familiar with the region acted as guides; though the
southern shore was inhabited exclusively by Roman colonists, they
guarded carefully against treachery from that quarter. Horsemen,
lightly armed Celtic archers, the Keltae and Petulantes, and Germans
familiar with woodland warfare--the Batavians--formed the van and
rearguards. In the centre were the heavily armed foot-soldiers of the
Imperial Guard, protecting the traders and sutlers, luggage, camp
equipage, and provisions. They moved along the ruinous old road, as
near the shore as the marshy ground permitted, in order to keep in view
of the lake, that they might discover any attempt at an attack by the
Barbarians in their boats, and also not lose sight of the opposite
shore occupied by the Romans.
The most difficult task was assigned to the left wing which, at the
north of the central division and the old road, was to force a passage
through forest and morass in a line parallel with that of the main
body, and protect it from any flank assault of the foe; for should the
latter suddenly burst from an ambush in the impenetrable woods and fall
upon the column extended in marching order, the whole body, thus taken
by surprise, might be scattered and driven into the marshes and the
lake.
But the resistance offered by forest and fen to the progress of the
troop seemed destined to remain the sole opposition which the Romans
were to encounter; for the latter had not met a single human being
since they quitted the southern shore of the lake and the stations
along the road there. There were no villages of the Alemanni in this
region: the ground was occupied by farms, and the houses (called
"Schwaigen") were miles apart. The few lonely dwellings which they
passed during a march of several days had been abandoned. A mysterious
silence, boding destruction, seemed to brood over the empty wooden
buildings.
Everywhere, just before the time of ripening, the grain--oats, barley,
and spelt--had been cut and partly burnt; the latter mode was the
quicker, and the grain of the Alemanni should not serve their foe even
as fodder for his horses. The cattle had been driven away; the kennels
of the faithful farm watch, almost always found at the gates, were also
empty; the hay and straw were removed from the barns, which were
usually connected with the houses and very often formed part of them.
Slowly, with frequent halts, advancing with difficulty, the Romans
assigned to the care of the provisions in charge of the troops or the
sutlers and their wives struggled forward for several days, each night
carefully establishing a well-fortified camp. From the western end of
the lake, where it ran into a stretch of marshy ground densely
overgrown by rushes, and meadows with sedges waving in the wind, they
marched toward the east. Thus, by a toilsome march, they had reached
the foot of the steep hill now crowned by the stately castle of
Meersburg.
The long August day, during which frequent showers of rain had fallen,
though the sky had not been always clouded, was drawing to a close.
Again the sun shone brilliantly through a rift, gilding the whole chain
of mountain peaks of the Bernese Alps to the Allgau heights; the Sentis
glowed in crimson splendor, solemnly, like a king of the mountain
giants who had drawn his radiant mantle around his proud shoulders.
The Roman column halted cautiously at the foot of the steep hill, whose
rocky sides fell abruptly to the lake and the valley on the west, while
the summit, at that time densely covered with trees and bushes,
presented a gloomy, threatening aspect. The oak-leaves and pine-needles
were dripping with rain, and wherever the sun did not shine on them,
looked dark-green, almost black.
Two officers, whose high rank was betokened by the gold and silver
ornaments on their equipments, now flashing brightly in the rays of the
setting sun, rode slowly toward the hill. Before them, bound by the
right and left arms respectively to the stirrups of two mounted
soldiers, walked a guide. A few pioneers with axes and spades
surrounded the leaders, and a little band of Batavian spearmen
followed. One of the officers, a stately man about thirty-five, now
checked his heavy Spanish barb and bent forward, his clear-cut bronzed
features wearing a keenly watchful expression.
"If I have ever known and fought with Germans," he said with a strong
Illyrian accent, "they are hiding in the woods on yonder hill-top,
which is a natural fortress. Halt, I beg, Prefect Praetor of Gaul. We'll
go no farther without reconnoitring. Forward, my brave Batavians.
Rignomer, take six men and climb up among the underbrush. But be wary!
And you, Brinno, trumpeter, give the signal of warning the instant you
discover the foe."
The other officer, a man much his senior, smiled as the order was
executed. "You are over-cautious, Saturninus. Always erring on the side
of prudence!"
"We cannot be over-cautious against this foe, my noble friend. Had not
the Barbarians occupied this fortress erected by the gods of their
native land, all courage to offer resistance must have deserted them."
"And it evidently _has_ abandoned them. All taste for war was
thoroughly extirpated by the departed hero, Valentinian, and our bold
young Emperor, his son. My pupil!" he added complacently. "I am quite
sure that all danger to the Empire from the Germans is over."
His companion silently shook his head. Just at that moment a captain of
the mailed horsemen, a man numbering about five and twenty years,
dashed forward from the centre of the Roman column. Tangled locks hung
from beneath his helmet, and his features were ignoble in form and
disagreeable in expression.
"Must we cross that accursed cliff. Tribune?" he exclaimed, abruptly
checking his horse.
"We must," replied the Illyrian quietly. "I have just learned that our
left wing has again found the morass in the forest bottomless, and is
approaching along this, our only road. And the waves of the lake are
dashing at our right."
The young man cast a doubtful glance at the cliff. "H'm," he muttered,
"it will cost us many men. But that's no misfortune," he added, "we
have more than enough Barbarians in our pay; if they fall fighting
against other Barbarians, there will simply be fewer of the beasts."
"An abominable remark, nephew Herculanus," replied the Prefect
reprovingly.
"If the ascent be resisted," said the Tribune, "it will consume much
time, and we have none to lose. We ought to have been on the bank of
the Ister long ago to fight the Goths. I am anxious about the Emperor
Valens. I have a presentiment of evil."
"You are always boding evil," replied the Prefect, smiling, "but the
evil never comes, the good fortune of eternal Rome always conquers.
Hark, it is the same now. The trumpeter is giving the signal: 'All
safe! Forward!' and the Centurion of the Batavians, who climbed the
height first--what is his name?--Rignomer, is beckoning to us to
follow. Up, friends! Was I not right, my brave Tribune? The Barbarians
will make no defence."
"You are right as usual, uncle!" said Herculanus with a smile intended
to be pleasant, but which made quite the opposite impression.
"If you only remain right, Ausonius!" said the Illyrian hesitatingly.
"Yet at the moment it really does appear so. Up, give the signal with
the tubas: Forward! We will pitch our camp for the night on that
height, and the land of the Alemanni will be defenceless before us."