The words uttered by Adalo, evidently from sincere belief, and with
warm feeling, produced a deep impression. Herculanus shrugged his
shoulders scornfully. Saturninus, with a grave face, gazed silently
into vacancy--into the future. After a long pause, Ausonius found
words:
"I have never seen that side of the question. Is this your wisdom?"
"I say once more, it is the wisdom of our wise men; Duke Hariowald
taught me. But the necessity of our people cries so loudly that even an
inexperienced youth must understand its call: Land or destruction! So,
in the name of our whole league of peoples, I ask (we Alemanni yield in
courage to no race on earth), do you wish to gain us, our spears,
forever against all your enemies, especially the false Franks, our evil
neighbors and yours? Do you desire that?"
The Romans listened intently; no one interrupted him in his appeal.
"Well, there is a way, but only one." He paused.
"Speak," urged Saturninus eagerly.
"Vacate all the land which you still occupy but can hold only by
constant fighting, the country northward between this lake and the
right bank of the Rhine to where the Main empties into it beneath your
stronghold of Mogontiacum, and all the region south of the lake to the
chain of the Cisalpine region."
"Insolent fellow!" shouted Herculanus. The other army leaders also did
not spare words of wrath. "Not bad!" said Ausonius, smiling. Saturninus
alone was silent; he was thinking how the great military hero,
Aurelian, had given up, in a manner very similar to the way asked here,
Trajan's proud conquest, Dacia, and thereby, for a long time, pacified
the Goths on the Danube.
But Adalo continued: "Do it, do it half voluntarily; do it for the most
valuable compensation; for I tell you, it must be done very soon. Then
it will be exacted without compensation in return. Do it willingly; for
there is a proud prediction current among our people: the Alemanni will
some day pasture their horses from the snows of the Alps to the woods
of the Vosges."
Ausonius rose indignantly. "Not another word! For our sole answer take
to your people the old Roman war-cry, 'Woe to the Barbarians!'"
"Woe to the Barbarians!" repeated the army leaders, with loud shouts.
"Before I go," said the youth,--he struggled fiercely to subdue the
agitation, the terrible anxiety which now sent a tremor through every
limb,--"listen to another message. You have captured a daughter of our
people." Six eyes were bent upon him with the keenest attention. "I am
commissioned to ransom her." In spite of every effort to appear calm
and cold his voice trembled.
"Are you Bissula's relative? She has no brother," said Ausonius
suspiciously.
"Or her lover?" asked Herculanus.
The youth's face flamed, his brow knit wrathfully. "Neither her kinsman
nor her betrothed lover. I am commissioned--I have already said so--to
ransom her. Name the price."
Ausonius was about to utter a refusal, but Saturninus hastily
anticipated him.
"You would pay any price as ransom?"
"Any."
"Is she a princess or a noble's daughter, that your people set so high
a value upon her liberty?"
"She is a free maiden of our people, and has as much right to our
protection as a queen."
"Well, your protection has been of little service to her," cried
Herculanus, laughing.
"I will give her weight in silver, nay, if needful, in gold--her full
weight."
"Pshaw!" replied Ausonius, smiling, "that isn't saying much. The little
one doesn't weigh heavily. Don't trouble yourself: I will not release
her."
"Pardon me, Prefect," said Saturninus quietly, yet without averting his
eyes an instant from Adalo, "I must again remind you that the Barbarian
girl is not your slave, but mine."
"What? O ye gods!" cried Adalo, wild with grief and horror.
He hastily advanced two paces toward the Roman. "Is it possible? Is it
true? Say no, Ausonius." The voice of the usually defiant youth now
sounded almost pleading.
"Unfortunately it is true," replied the Prefect sullenly.
But Saturninus, who now knew what he wished to learn, answered calmly:
"The captive is my property. And she cannot be bought with gold. But I
will release her, if you--" he rose, approached Adalo and whispered
into his ear.
The youth burst forth angrily: "The location of our fortification and
the strength of our force? Come into the woods, Roman: you will learn
there."
Saturninus stepped back coldly. "As you choose. Never will the
red-haired maiden see her people."
"And consider, Barbarian," hissed Herculanus, "we need not use the rack
to torture a maiden."
Adalo, with a fierce cry, gripped the hilt of the short sword at his
side. But he controlled himself and only cast a look at Herculanus,
who, unable to endure it, blinked and turned his eyes away.
Adalo, tortured by deep anguish, gazed inquiringly, searching into the
characters and dispositions of the two men; first into Saturninus's
stern, handsome face, then his glance scanned Ausonius's features,
kindly in expression, but wholly lacking the impress of a firm will. He
sighed heavily. But, conscious that the eyes of all were fixed intently
upon him, he summoned his whole strength, and said quietly: "If any
harm should befall her, her people will take terrible vengeance." The
firmly repressed, yet intense fury in the brief words, did not fail to
make an impression.
Adalo, without any gesture of farewell, turned to leave the tent, and
was already standing under the curtains at the entrance, when
Saturninus cried: "And what name has the envoy of the Alemanni?"
The youth turned quickly and, comprehending the whole group in a single
glance, exclaimed: "Adalo, son of Adalger. You shall remember it." He
passed outside the tent as he spoke.
"Uncle," cried Herculanus, "wasn't that the fellow's name? Yes, yes, it
is he: the 'Mars of the Alemanni!' Seize him--and the war is over!"
Before Ausonius could answer, Saturninus, hurrying out of the tent,
said: "Beware, Ausonius! Nothing in heaven or on earth seems to be
sacred to this nephew of yours. But that Barbarian's eyes must be
quickly bandaged again; their glance is like an eagle's." He hastened
after the envoy.
Ausonius, vexed by many things, said very irritably, in a tone almost
never heard from the lips of the kind-hearted noble: "I have long been
displeased with you, nephew Herculanus. I am very much displeased.
Very! Extremely!"
He passed him with a hasty step, harshly thrusting aside the arms which
Herculanus stretched toward him with a soothing gesture. The nephew's
eyes followed him with a glance that boded evil.