At daybreak the tuba sounded through the Roman camp, summoning to
departure the bands who were to share the expedition.
"Where is my nephew?" asked Ausonius, mounting the beautiful gray
Cantabrian stallion, whose stirrup was held by old Prosper. "He is
usually the first at my bedside to greet me."
"He hastened on with his mailed riders long ago. He started even before
the Tribune."
"What zeal! I like that," said the uncle, patting the neck of his noble
steed. "At home in Burdigala he devoted his time solely to--"
"To spending your money, O patron!" growled the old man.
"Pshaw, never mind, graybeard! My money--it will soon be his money."
"May the Olympians--forgive me, the saints--forbid!"
"Put no restraint on yourself on my account. I prefer them too. They
have the advantage of suiting the metre better, at least most of them.
Where is Saturninus?"
"Gone already. He left word that you might follow: you could not miss
the way. See, there are the helmets of the last men in his rear-guard.
His countryman Decius commands them."
"I see. Forward! How beautifully the morning light smiles upon us. Help
me, unconquered sun-god!"
He put spurs to his horse and, followed by a brilliant train of mounted
men, dashed down the hill and through the Porta Principalis Dextra
eastward, toward the sun. A guide had sought the best path at the
earliest dawn, marking it by placing at certain spaces small stones
carried in bags by the pioneers who accompanied and watched him.
The Prefect of Gaul soon reached the path trodden by Adalo a few
days before, which led to Suomar's lonely forest dwelling. With a
throbbing heart he recognized the familiar spot: the little hill, the
broad-branched oak, the neighboring spring: nothing had changed in the
few years, except that another piece of tilled land had been wrested by
fire from the primeval forest.
At the fence which inclosed the court-yard he sprang from his horse; he
had ordered his escort to halt at the oak-tree. The blood suffused his
face, so intense was his anxiety. The narrow gate in the palisade stood
ajar. Entering the yard, he uttered a cry of joyful astonishment: a
little flower garden had been laid out beside the door of the house; he
recognized with emotion in the gay blossoms, now in the full bloom of
summer, the seeds and slips which he had given the child in Arbor, nay,
even ordered from Gaul. Italian and Gallic flowers and shrubs,
evidently tended by loving hands, splendid roses and evergreen yews
greeted him in thick beds, and also small fruit-trees. Pontine
cherries, Picentinian apples, Aquitanian pears, had grown as high as
the door.
"Yes, yes," said Ausonius, smiling, "how everything has grown and
blossomed in five years!" Then something whirred over his head; from
openings in the stable-roof a whole flock of dainty little blue-gray
doves flew across the garden to the neighboring field of oats. "See,"
cried Ausonius, looking after them. "My Lycian rock-doves from
Burdigala! How that one pair has multiplied!"
He hesitated to enter the house. Doubtless he told himself that the
hope of finding her he sought was faint, nay futile. But here
everything seemed to bear witness to her presence; there on the bench
before the dwelling lay--he knew them well--the delicate garden shears
which he had sent to her from Vindonissa. He did not wish to cross the
threshold and rob himself of every hope.
The clank of armor came from the open door: a centurion belonging to
Herculanus's troop approached, bowing respectfully. "Everything is
empty, _vir illuster_, the Tribune sends word. And we are to ask
you--we are burning all the Barbarians' houses--whether this too--"
"Let it remain uninjured."
The man nodded with a look of pleasure. "I am glad to obey the order.
It would have been a hard task to destroy this home. Umbrian roses,
Picentinian mallows, like those which grow around my parents' house in
Spoletium, in the midst of the Barbarians' marshes! Who can have
wrought this miracle?"
"A poet," replied Ausonius, smiling, "and the fourth, the youngest, of
the Graces. So Saturninus was here himself?"
"Yes, but even before him your nephew, with me. Herculanus searched
everywhere carefully, nay, greedily. He forbade my accompanying him. I
was obliged to wait at the entrance."
"The good fellow! He wanted to bring her to me himself, to surprise
me--"
"Directly after Herculanus left, Saturninus dashed up."
"Where did the troop go from here?"
"Yonder into the forest, keeping to the left, steadily to the left,
away from the lake. Otherwise horses and men would sink in the morass.
You will find sentinels posted in the woods every three hundred paces.
I, with three men, form the commencement of the chain here."
"See that the yard and garden are not injured. I'll promise in return a
jug of the best wine."
With these words he turned away, mounted his horse and, followed by his
escort, rode toward the left across the tilled land and meadows
surrounding the dwelling to the entrance of the neighboring wood, where
the helmets and spears of the next sentinels glittered brightly in the
sunshine.
But Herculanus had not been content with thoroughly searching the
deserted house. He had also carefully examined the neighborhood for
some trace of the vanished girl. He was soon unable to ride farther
through the tangled underbrush; so, leaping from his horse, he gave his
Mauritanian roan charger into the care of the only man he had permitted
to accompany him, and glided on foot through the thicket. A sort of
path which he had discovered with much difficulty and followed for some
distance suddenly ended.
While vainly searching for the stones and bits of wood which hitherto,
though at long distances, had marked the direction of the way, he saw
plainly in the marshy ground of the forest the imprint of human
footsteps. And the people who had passed here were not Romans: the
troops had never yet pressed so far eastward. Besides, the prints were
not like those made by the seeker's own heavy Roman marching shoes: he
intentionally trod lightly close beside the marks he had found, but how
different was the track! His deep footprints instantly filled with the
reddish-yellow marsh-water, which oozed from the ground at the least
pressure. But within a short time some one had walked by here
barefooted with a lighter tread. Indeed, not one person, but several.
For besides one mark which seemed to belong to a child, always one step
behind was a somewhat heavier and broader impression, and invariably at
the right of it a narrow but deep little hole filled with water, as if
made by the sharp end of a staff, while partly at the left, partly two
paces in advance, a man's heavier tread seemed unmistakable.
The Roman followed the footprints with eager zeal; if he did not find
those whom he sought, he would have the credit of being the first to
discover the direction in which the Barbarians had fled. Suddenly the
traces appeared to vanish, in front of a large hawthorn bush which
barred the way. From beneath the hand thrusting the thorns aside a
little brown bird with a red breast flew up startled. Bending forward,
the Roman peered into the bush, then a cry of glad surprise escaped his
lips: "Aha! She passed here! She herself!"
Slowly, slowly he drew through his hand a shining red-gold hair which
had caught on a thorn: it was at least an ell long. And beyond the
thorn-bush the footprints were again visible, even more distinctly than
before, on a patch of damp sand. What seemed a child's footprints were
made by her steps.