The Adeling and his followers would probably soon have forced their way
through this gate, one of whose wings had already caught fire and was
beginning to glow and smoke more and more, while the other was
splitting wider and wider under the heavy blows of the axe, had not the
battle on the opposite side of the camp taken a turn which was also to
prove decisive for the conflict around the Porta Decumana. Scarcely had
Bissula fallen unconscious, when down every street in the camp that led
from the north toward this southern gate, riders, riderless horses,
foot-soldiers, and slaves came rushing in a wild flight with frantic
cries.
"Fly," cried a warrior in scale armor, dashing past Herculanus and
Davus. "The Barbarians are upon us!"
"The camp is taken!" shouted a Celt, hurrying out of a side street.
"They have climbed over the wall at the Praetorian Gate."
"No, the earth opened. Orcus spewed the Barbarians into the middle of
the camp!"
"Fly!" shrieked a camp-follower's wife, "I saw Saturninus run down by
his own men! All is lost!" And in truth it seemed so.
Ausonius had been waked by Prosper, and while he was arming, Decius, a
gallant officer, appeared and in the Tribune's name invited him to
undertake the defence of the Porta Principalis Dextra with a cohort of
the Twenty second Legion, which had already been ordered there.
"I will accompany you," said he.
"What is the matter? The Barbarians? Are they attacking?"
"Don't you hear them?"
"Yes, of course I do! On which side?"
"On all sides!"
"I will hasten." With these words Ausonius, putting on his helmet, left
the tent.
"What is the Tribune's decision?" he asked as they turned to the right
into the nearest street. "To make a sally?"
"No! To remain in the camp. It will be defended to the last. There is
too great a superiority in the force outside." With these words the two
officers reached the legionaries and, followed by them, soon gained the
eastern gate of the camp. From here Ausonius sent Prosper to protect
Bissula, but also to watch that she did not escape.
Meanwhile Saturninus had convinced himself that, for the moment, no
pressing danger threatened the northern or Praetorian Gate, and hurrying
down the steps inside the wall, he exchanged, his part of warrior for
that of Commander. Gathering his officers about him in the open space
at the foot of the wall, about a hundred paces north of the pine-tree
of the earth-goddess, he curtly issued swift commands. "Let all the
horsemen dismount and fight on the walls, except the first squadron of
mailed riders; but these are not to dismount--do you hear?--on pain of
death, under any pretext. All the riderless horses must be led to the
Porta Decumana; for if a sally should be made, or"--he added in a lower
tone so that only his officers could hear--"if it should be necessary
to leave the camp, we shall go to the south to aid Nannienus. If he be
not attacked himself, he will instantly assail the Barbarians in the
rear at that gate."
"Help at the Porta Principalis Sinistra!" entreated a horseman dashing
from the west.
Saturninus turned to speak to the messenger and, in doing so, turned
his back to the pine-tree; but he had scarcely addressed a few words to
the man, when a centurion standing behind the General uttered a cry of
terror and seized him by the arm: "Look around you, Tribune! There! By
the pine-tree! The earth is trembling; the abyss is opening; the altar
stones have sprung apart!"
Just at that moment the Barbarians' war-cry: "Odin! Odin! Alemanni!"
rang out in the midst of the camp, and Saturninus's face blanched as he
saw a gigantic figure in a white helmet, near the pine-tree, strike
down with his long spear a Celtic archer, who, shrieking, tried to
escape. Three, six, eight, twelve Barbarians had risen from the earth.
With a cry of savage fury the brave Roman rushed toward the giant. But
he could not reach him, his own soldiers threw him down.
It was a body of the Celts, hot-blooded, brave in assault, but easily
disheartened after an unfavorable turn. They saw the foe in the midst
of the camp; only a few had noticed whence they came or how small at
first was their number. Seized with panic, many throwing away their
weapons, they fled in frantic terror.
"Treason! Treason! The enemy is in the camp!" With these shouts a whole
troop of fugitives had flung themselves between the Duke and the Roman
General. The latter instantly sprang to his feet again.
"Halt, you cowards," shouted the fearless Tribune, again trying to
check with flashing sword, the mad rush of the fugitives. "Look around
you. There is only a handful of the enemy. And where will you fly?
Outside of the camp? Among the greatly superior number of the foe? Only
these walls can save you!"
"To the ships! To Nannienus! Across the lake! To Arbor!"
"Then die, you coward!" he cried fiercely, striking down the nearest
shouter, a standard bearer of the Celts; and tearing from the falling
man the dragon standard, with its fluttering purple streamers, he swung
it aloft, crying, "Roma! Roma!" and pressed forward.
For a moment he really succeeded in checking the fugitives. And now the
bold little band of intruders was in the utmost peril; then
Saturninus's attention was suddenly diverted to the top of the wall.
Many, many of its defenders had turned at the noise behind them, seen
German helmets in the midst of the camp, heard the cries of terror from
the Celts, and noticed their General himself rush into the midst of the
fugitives. They believed that the camp had been taken from the opposite
direction, and feared every moment that they would be attacked from the
rear. So they leaped from the top of the wall in large numbers or came
rushing down the stairs. The besiegers outside, hitherto held in check
by a heavy shower of missies, suddenly saw whole ranks of the defenders
vanish, whole stretches of the wall left empty and, with wild shouts,
they climbed boldly and confidently up the ladders. When the Tribune
looked up, the assailants were already springing from the wall in dense
masses, hewing down the few Romans who had gathered around him, while
the fierce giant's terrible spear struck down one after another.
Saturninus cast one more glance at the top of the wall: countless bands
of Barbarians were appearing on it. Then, in a voice whose tones rang
above the din of battle, he shouted the order: "Leave the camp! Follow
this standard! To the Porta Decumana! Close ranks! If you open them,
you will be lost!"
These words had their effect. Often had these soldiers proved that this
solid closing of their ranks was the best, nay, the only means of
repelling the assault of the Germans. The hope of reaching their
comrades on the ships revived their courage; retreating toward the
south, fighting as they marched, they followed their trusted leader.
The pursuers from the north and east pressed hotly upon them; but the
Romans moving southward received considerable reenforcements from the
east and the west, where the cross streets from both sides ran into the
one extending from north to south--the Via Media. Meanwhile the troops
defending the eastern and western gates had heard the war-cry of the
Alemanni within the camp and the shouts of their own fugitives, and
giving up the hopeless resistance, they thronged, according to a
standing rule in the camp, into the long central street which led to
the Porta Decumana, the gate assigned for the Roman line of retreat.
True, the troops from the western gate, where the assailants had
already made considerable progress, poured down in great confusion; but
Dedus and Ausonius led the legionaries of the Twenty-second Cohort from
the eastern gate in good order. Saturninus saw the two leaders from the
distance, but separated by the whole flood of marching men, they could
not meet. So the columns, overtaken and pressed by the Barbarians only
in the rear, gradually reached in better order the spot where the Via
Principalis, near the Decumanian Gate, intersected the long central
street leading to it. Here all the baggage, with many hundred carts and
wagons, was piled together. Such a barricade, a valuable defence to
German bands on the migrations, was the most dangerous obstacle and
interruption to the Roman order of marching and fighting; for no matter
whether the attempt to pass was made by going around or climbing over
it, in either case the firmly closed ranks were broken into little
groups, nay sometimes even separated into individual warriors, who were
forced to press forward or climb over the wagons one behind another.
But the old Duke had not studied the plan of the camp in vain: he had
noted accurately where the baggage, the carts and wagons were placed,
and eagerly distributed all the bands of his men who poured toward him.
They came from the three gates north, west, and east, which they had
long since forced open, and they passed through the streets of the camp
in such a manner, as they pressed forward in pursuit, that they pushed
from all sides down the long and the cross streets upon the fugitives,
just at this exact point.