Bissula, too, on whose burning eyes sleep had not descended, had soon
perceived what was happening. She heard with joyous terror the battle
cry of the Alemanni, the war horns of her people.
"There they are! They are coming!" she exclaimed exultingly. "Now to
meet them!" With the words she ran out of her tent, leading her
faithful companion by the collar. She was determined to seize the first
opportunity, no matter how dangerous it might be, to escape from the
precincts of the camp.
But this was far more difficult than Bissula had expected. She
experienced the utmost trouble even in gaining the vicinity of the lake
gate to which she was summoned. The regular squares of the Roman camp,
intersected at right angles by the streets of tents, rendered the task
still more arduous; for at all the streets and squares stood, in dense
masses, the reserve troops not engaged in fighting on the walk. No
matter whether their faces or their backs were turned toward her, those
ranks could not be penetrated.
Her friend Bruna impeded instead of aiding her. The animal was so
wildly excited by the noise of thousands of men shouting, weapons
clashing, horses dashing by, and flames blazing on all sides, that the
young girl had great difficulty in restraining the daughter of the
Alemannic forests from mingling in the battle and furiously attacking
the legionaries. So for a long time she could make little progress
toward the gate she desired to reach.
But now a gap was suddenly made in the ranks of the soldiers standing
before her. A troop of mailed riders came dashing down the street of
the camp from the north toward the gate, and the Illyrians before her
opened their ranks to let the cavalry pass. Bissula fearlessly seized
the tail of one of the horses and, without loosing her hold of Bruna,
let herself be dragged along. In this way she successfully reached the
Via Principalis, but here, feeling her arm seized, she released the
horse, which now kicked violently. The girl looked around angrily. It
was old Prosper.
"Halt," he commanded, "you must stay with me, Bissula. That is the
order of the patronus; he sent me to you, supposing that you would be
in the midst of the uproar. I am to keep strict watch of you, till the
attack is repulsed."
"Let me go," she cried angrily, trying to release herself.
"No, you shall not. I must answer for you. Follow me."
They now began to struggle violently; but the man was stronger than the
girl. She could not escape his hold. Then Bruna, growling furiously,
rose on her hind legs and struck with her huge paws at her mistress's
foe. With a cry of terror the freedman, releasing the girl, sprang
back, and the next instant Bissula, by creeping between the horses'
legs, slipped through the ranks of the mailed riders, who, facing
south, were now the only obstacle between her and the lake gate.
She fairly flew down the long, narrow central street, the Via Media, in
whose tents the luggage was sheltered. There she saw Herculanus and,
somewhat farther down, Davus, each in a heavy oak-block, sunk into the
earth, with both feet thrust through holes and fettered to the blocks
with heavy cross chains. Bissula ran farther in terror. Now, for the
first time, she looked around for Bruna, The bear had not followed her;
her growling came from beyond the ranks of the horsemen, and at the
same time Bissula saw a pack of huge dogs, barking furiously, leaping
on the angry beast. One of the animals was hurled aside by the terrible
paw, yelping with agony. But the girl could wait no longer, far less
turn back. She hurried on; already she saw before her the goal of her
longing, the Decumanian Gate.
Already the blows of axes were thundering ceaselessly outside upon the
groaning oak planks and iron bars. Those were her own people, her
deliverers, her liberators! But the solid gate held out firmly, and
missiles rained from the top of the wall upon the unprotected
assailants. She pressed forward as near the gate as she could. Only a
single rank of soldiers separated her from it. Then Bissula heard
outside a ringing voice which sent a thrill of rapture through every
vein. She knew those tones.
"Set fire to the gate! Bring all the torches!"
Forgetting all caution, she sprang through the rank of soldiers,
pushing two of them aside, put her face to the gate and called with her
utmost strength, "Adalo! Help! Adalo!"
"Bissula!" rose a voice without, and a terrible blow--the first which
had penetrated cleft a yawning gash in the right wing of the double
gate, so that the splinters flew inside.
At the same time Bissula heard two voices call her name from the wall
above. Looking up she saw Zercho and Sippilo who, in advance of all the
others, had scaled the wall at the right of the gate.
"Here, little one!" shouted the Sarmatian, letting a rope slide down
the inside, while he wound the other end around the ladder rising above
the wall.
"Where are you, Bissula?" called Sippilo, leaning far over and holding
a torch down. "Alas! I can't see her anywhere!"
The girl, standing at the left of the gate, could not make her way
through the soldiers to the right; she was obliged to see a strong
Thracian on the top of the wall seize a heavy pole, which he held
crosswise with both hands, and springing forward hurl both the
over-bold assailants (they were still standing alone) backward at a
single thrust.
"Oho, Sippilo," shouted Adalo outside, "what was that?"
"A somersault!" replied the boy laughing, and jumping up again. "But
you, Zercho! Alas! you cannot stand?"
"Unfortunately! My foot--I think it is broken!"
"Take him, men, two of you, and carry him out of the fight," Adalo
ordered.
"Where?"
"To my own hall; it is still standing."
Bissula uttered a cry when she saw her two friends fall backward; but
the next instant her senses failed. A soldier whom she had repeatedly
tried to thrust aside turned angrily: he meant to strike his
troublesome comrade, as he supposed the person to be. Then he
recognized the young girl, and his wrath instantly vanished.
"Go back, little one!" he exclaimed. "You'll get killed here!"
And, with kindly intent, he flung her toward the left; but the clumsy
fellow exerted too much strength, or the weight of the dainty figure
was too light; she struck her head so violently against one of the
beams of her old hiding-place that she lay stunned and senseless where
she had fallen.
"Bissula!" Adalo called again through the gaping cleft in the door. But
he received no answer.