To Adalo's impatience the time seemed very long--in his wrath he
believed the delay intentional--during which he was led through the
spacious camp till at last his guide stopped and removed the muffler
from his head. He found himself in the Prefect's tent. Ausonius,
Bissula's friend, he instantly recognized, with a thrill of anger. A
number of other army leaders were standing and sitting around him. They
had had plenty of time to assemble while the Barbarian was being guided
in bewildering zigzag lines through the streets of tents.
He silently saluted Ausonius (it did not escape his eyes that his foe
looked admiringly at him), who motioned to him to sit down on a camp
stool. But the youth, with a defiant bearing, remained standing. In
vain, gazing around the richly decorated space, Adalo endeavored to
discover some trace, not of Bissula herself--that was beyond his
hopes--but of some garment or article that belonged to her. Nothing was
to be seen except arms and papyrus rolls.
"You understand the language of Rome, since you have come without an
interpreter?" Ausonius began.
Adalo nodded.
"Be welcome! We expected such a messenger. You desire peace?"
The young hero angrily flung back his handsome head so that his long
locks rested on his shoulders, and answered with flashing eyes: "I
offer to let you depart unmolested."
"Ha, insolent Barbarian!" cried Herculanus.
But Saturninus wrathfully motioned to him to keep silence, and then
asked very quietly: "Are we surrounded?"
"Not yet; but only because we did not desire it."
Saturninus cast a significant glance at the Prefect.
"Boasting!" replied the latter in Greek.
"And why haven't you destroyed us yet?" sneered Herculanus.
"The result, Roman, is in the hands of the gods. We have not attacked
because we, who do not fear battle, but rather--you know well--love it,
this time desire peace; or our wise leaders, who think further than my
comrades, desire it. The great league of the Alemanni wishes to end
forever by a treaty not only this campaign but the whole war with you,
which for generations has been burning or at least smouldering: we wish
not a truce, but peace with Rome."
"Is this your idea, youth?" asked Saturninus, searchingly.
"I have already said it is the choice of our wise leaders, among whom I
am not numbered. But I, too, perceive that intercourse with you across
the frontiers, when the spears are leaning in the hall, will bring to
our people many benefits. We have already learned much from watching
you; we must learn still more."
"But why," interposed Ausonius, "if you perceive this, have you for
centuries broken every armistice, every treaty? You Germans boast of
fidelity as one of the virtues of your race, and we must praise the
loyal service of your mercenaries under our standards. Why, here on the
frontiers, are all your tribes of many names, Alemanni and Franks,
Goths and Quadi and Marcomanni, the same in this unfaithfulness? Why,
year after year, do you continually break peace and compact? Our
cohorts, constantly compelled to wade through your forest marshes,
upbraid you with fierce hatred as the falsest of the peoples. Why do
you continually break over our frontiers, like a forest stream?"
"Like a forest stream! You have uttered the right words, though
probably without knowing it. I will not answer that often we are not
the breakers of the treaties, but, perhaps against the Emperor's will,
your army leaders, your frontier officials. In defiance of the treaty
they build citadels on our free land, and the supplies which, according
to the treaties, you owe us, are withheld: especially the grain."
"Why," asked Saturninus eagerly, rising from his seat, "do you not
raise for yourselves the grain you need?"
"We cannot. There is not land enough for our increasing population. The
gods multiply our numbers wonderfully: it must be their will that we
should grow and overflow our boundaries. Hundreds, nay, thousands of
our young men emigrate every year to serve you as mercenaries and
frontier guards. We often send forth a third of our young people,
chosen by lot, to seek a new home where the flight of the birds and the
will of the gods directs them: but all this does not avail."
"Then," Saturninus questioned, speaking more to himself than to the
envoy, "it is not mere wantonness?"
"Do you think that mere wantonness would have driven, from the days of
our earliest ancestors (the legends have treasured it loyally, sadly,
and proudly) our almost naked heroes upon the spears of your mailed
legions? Nay, had it been we youths only, we would always rather win
what we need by blood--the foe's or our own--than by toiling with the
plough. But do you believe that, from mere wantonness, whole nations,
with their women and children, their men and maid-servants, their herds
and wagons, would constantly press across your frontiers southward and
westward; not as a warlike band on a foray in quest of booty, but on a
weary pilgrimage, pressing forward because pressed by others, pushing
because being pushed from the south and the east by other Germans and
by Sarmatians; not quitting the old home, but maintaining it by those
left behind till they too were obliged to yield--do you believe that
mere wantonness has so often lured these hundreds of thousands to and
beyond your frontiers, usually to certain destruction? Oh, no. It is
not wantonness that impels us, but the most powerful of all the
goddesses--Necessity. A man utters her name unwillingly; for the woman
with the iron girdle is the only inexorable deity; she is the mother of
the three Fates, who also revere her, and she often strangles with her
iron girdle the mortals who mention her carelessly. Beware, Romans!
Before our faces stands only your Empire, one mighty in military power,
it is true, but behind us threatens and urges the terrible mother of
the Norns. We have no choice. The country has become too narrow; we
must, come what may, pour out of the old bed in roaring torrents.
Therefore, clever Roman, you speak aptly of a forest stream. Believe
me: we shall continually break over your frontiers, no matter how
strongly they may be guarded with men and walls, until either all we
countless German tribes are destroyed or until we have gained land
enough to live upon. Not until then will there be peace."