Outside of the Duke's tent also a huge fire was blazing, fed by slaves
who were roasting on the ends of poles the haunches and back of a
freshly killed stag. Adalo passed by, motioning to Zercho to wait,
parted the sailcloth stretched over the wooden frame of the tent, and
entered.
The roof was formed of interwoven pine branches; against the poles of
the light timberwork hung and rested everywhere weapons of all kinds.
Skins covered the turf floor which, opposite to the entrance, was
raised until it formed a high seat; a curtain of heavy linen hung
behind it, dividing from the front of the tent a small space used for a
sleeping room. In the centre stood an iron tripod, running to a point
at the top, into which was screwed a burning pine-torch that diffused a
dim, flickering red light.
On the fur-covered high seat, with his back resting against the main
column of the tent, sat Duke Hariowald. He greeted his young kinsman
only by a glance and seemed to heed nothing except the eager words of
another guest, a man about forty years old, who, clad in a boarskin and
wearing on his head a "boar helm" with the animal's tusks, sat at his
right.
The old Duke, a giant in height, towering nearly a head above Adalo's
tall figure, was a man of singular appearance. The immense framework of
his body appeared to belong to a much older race of men. His deep-set
gray eye--the left one had been destroyed by a stone from a Balearican
sling long before, and the empty socket had a sinister expression--was
under a bushy, prominent arched brow; its fire was by no means dimmed,
but curbed by the long habit of self-control. This ever perceptible
rule of passions blazing fiercely in his breast gave the mighty man,
who in spite of his sixty-five winters could not be called old, an air
of mysterious majesty. His people looked up to him with reverence, with
timid expectation, nay, with a slight fear of what he was planning in
rigid secrecy. His eagle eye was inscrutable when he half closed it;
when open, the flash that blazed from it was fairly blinding. The
expression of the mouth was concealed by the magnificent silvery-white
beard, sweeping over the breast-plate to the bronze belt, which framed
the cheeks and mingled with the thick locks of hair of the same hue.
Like the eye, the strong, deep, resonant voice revealed, no matter how
quietly the mighty man spoke, the sense of power held in check. He
rarely moved his muscular limbs, and all his gestures had a calmness
which was the result of long training. So he sat without a helmet, with
his ample blue cloak floating from his shoulders, his bearing one of
dignified composure. The majestic beauty of his finely formed head was
plainly visible as he rested it against the tent-pole, listening
intently. An immense spear rested in the curve of his right arm, its
brass top rising above his shoulder, as the end touched the floor; he
often stroked with a gentle, almost loving touch of the hand the runes
of victory inscribed on the back of the ash handle.
"I am usually glad to greet you, son of Adalger," said the Duke's other
guest, with a frowning brow, "but now I am most unwilling. I pleaded
for peace--" The Duke remained silent. "Now you come and you--I know
it--dream of nothing day and night save war with Rome."
Adalo measured him with a wrathful glance. "The ancient foe of our
people is in the country, and a king of the Alemanni counsels peace?
Ebarbold, son of Ebur, fear was alien to your kinsmen--"
The other laid his hand on the curved knife in his belt. Adalo did not
see it: he was under the spell of Hariowald's eye. A warning glance
from the old man, and the youth hastily added, "and is unknown to you,
hero of the wild-boar's courage."
The guest loosened his grip of the dagger and leaned back proudly.
"But Roman gold does not ensnare you," Adalo continued; "so some magic
blinds you."
"Or _you_ and all our crazy youths. The red drink of Zio, the war-god,
has intoxicated you. Or," he added in a lower, almost timid tone, "He,
Odin the Val-father, wishes again to people his Valhalla with
slaughtered heroes."
A change of expression flashed over the Duke's face. He gently raised
his spear and, unheard by the others, murmured, "Mighty Odin, do not
avenge the words." But Ebarbold went on:
"No matter about the boys! Their only art is war, and they have little
sense; but that you, who have seen sixty winters and almost as many
victories of the men with the high helmets--that you too should desire
war! My friends, I went to Rome; I climbed to the citadel on the
towering rock. It glitters with gold and marble. I served in the great
Valentinian's army. I have seen for years the countless thousands of
Roman warriors with their finest weapons, against which ours are like
children's toys."
The Duke, unnoticed, pressed his spear closer to his breast.
"And the military engines, the huge galleys with three banks of oars
one above another, the treasures of coined and uncoined gold and
silver! The whole extent of the land, all Mittelgard, as far as men
live--white, brown, and black--I've seen them painted on a long, long
strip of hide. The rising and the setting of the sun serve Rome. In his
golden house on one of the seven hills of the Tiber the Imperator has
placed a gold ball: all the provinces are copied on it. It is the work
of a magician. If a foe crosses the boundary in the farthest north or
south, the gold ball echoes and trembles in that spot; the Imperator
hears it, looks, and sends the legions. We will not defy him. The Caesar
is a god on earth."
"Do not hear it. Mighty One!" the old Duke murmured, stroking the runes
on his spear soothingly.
Adalo was about to make a vehement reply, but he involuntarily looked
at the silent man, and controlled himself.
"We have learned that long enough, I think," Ebarbold continued; "from
generation to generation, when each province still fought
independently, long before this name and league of the Alemanni were
heard and invented!"
"You don't like this league?" the Duke now asked suddenly.
The King started. The voice, hitherto mute, sounded so loud and
powerful. Glancing up timidly, he shrugged his shoulders: "Whether I
like it or not, I can no longer dissolve it."
"No, you cannot," said Hariowald very calmly, stroking his long beard;
but his gray eye darted a glance which boded evil.
"You don't like the _name_ of Alemanni either?" asked Adalo
indignantly.
"No, Adeling. 'All men together!' Ha, our forefathers prided themselves
on standing alone, province by province; nay, in the old days family by
family, not leaning on others, and also not bound by them, not subject
to the will of the majority."
"Yes, that's it!" said the old Duke with a fierce smile. "You were in
the citadel of Rome--so was I. But I perceived with my one eye what you
have not seen. You noticed the glittering lustre of their magnificence;
it dazzled you: I saw through the glitter to the decay, the decline
beneath. And one thing more," he added mysteriously, lowering his
voice--"for several generations they have had no more luck with their
own gods--with the new ones, I mean. Ay, the old one whom they formerly
had--" he now spoke with a certain timidity, even reverence--"I mean
the one with the thunderbolts and the eagle--he was a god of battles,
almost like our own. Often his eagle on their shields seemed to me to
flap its wings, and the lightning to glow redly. Often and often have I
seen them conquer under that handsome bearded god and his sons. Mars
and Hercules. But now they have chosen for their god a youth, gentle
and nobly wise, but no warrior. His own priests say he never held a
sword in his hand. He did not descend from a line of gods; he was the
son of a laborer. And this man--a carpenter--belonged to a race long in
bondage to Rome, a people many of whom have wandered to us with packs
on their bent backs, mere traders in spices. Not many of them are seen
in the ranks of the legions. Since the Romans chose for their god that
gentle teacher who would not even defend his own life, victory has
deserted their standards. But what (besides their Jupiter in the
clouds) formerly secured to them for centuries conquest on earth I also
learned; the god whom I most honor showed it to me: one will controlled
them all. They were already united men--all for one, and one for all,
through many hundred winters; while we, according to the wish of your
heart, fought province by province, each for himself, and--succumbed.
This is your freedom--the freedom of discord and consequent
destruction!"
The glowing wrath of enthusiastic conviction transfigured the old
Duke's noble face.