In the midst of the intoxication of victory another joy filled the old
leader's heart: delight in the progress which, within a single
generation, the training in obedience had made in the subjection of his
Alemanni to the military authority of their Duke.
The traditions of their forefathers and his own youthful experience
contained many an instance in which Germans had lost a victory already
won, because the conquerors, against their leader's commands, began, in
unbridled lust for booty, to plunder the captured camp. They would
scatter themselves through tents and baggage wagons, each vying with
his comrades, so that the Romans, little disturbed by pursuit, found
the opportunity to assemble again and, with closed ranks, could wrest
from the dispersed pillagers both camp and victory. So the old
Commander could say to himself with proud delight: "They have learned
something, through me--under me--ay, for love of me!"
Before the commencement of the assault he had proposed, for he could
not command: "The camp and all its contents shall belong to the whole
army, after the victory is won. When the morning sun shines down upon
it, a division shall be made according to districts, families, and
individuals. Whoever takes, in advance, even a vessel or a weapon shall
be regarded as a thief who has robbed his people, and shall be hanged."
The bands had assented, and they loyally kept their word: not a man
turned from the battle, or left the ranks to plunder, or even stooped
to pick up the costly gold and silver articles which the slaves, flying
from Ausonius's tent, had tried to hide, or perhaps steal. The slaves
had soon thrown down these articles that they might not be hampered in
their flight.
Obedient to Hariowald's orders, the Alemanni drove the fugitives from
all directions toward the central street of the camp; so the confused
torrent which, hitherto, had poured through many separate channels
southward, was dammed by this obstacle and checked.
The first men, still running at full speed down the narrow side paths
at the right and left, squeezed past the wide rows of carts, or, if not
too much crowded by their neighbors, climbed over them; but both plans
soon became possible only by the most violent struggles for precedence
on the part of the fugitives, as the hundreds driven here and there by
the Duke's followers rushed upon the closed ranks of the two leaders'
orderly columns. These fugitives pressed forward with the strength of
despair, especially after they perceived, with horror, that throwing
down their weapons and surrendering did not save them from death.
"Woe, they are killing every one! Make way! Let us pass! They are
murdering the prisoners!"
"No!" shouted the Duke to the nearest shrieker, "they are not murdering
the prisoners, for they have none!" and struck him down.
Then the ranks which had remained closed began to waver. Saturninus
succeeded in crowding past the wagons on the right and hastened onward
toward the gate. The scene was brightly lighted by many blazing tents,
into which the victors had flung faggots smeared with pitch and resin.
At the corner of one of the cross streets Saturninus saw two of his
beautiful large dogs, with torn bodies, lying one above the other,
while he heard the others barking furiously, and at intervals the sound
of fierce growling. The next instant he was pushed far forward by the
men crowding behind him. He looked around for Ausonius, who had been
mounted, and saw him on foot trying to climb over the barricade of
wagons. He was making slow progress, and already, close upon this band
of fugitives, the war-cry of the pursuers sounded nearer and nearer.
The Tribune ordered several pioneers whom he met to break a passage
with their axes through the carts for Ausonius and the left column. The
men did not obey willingly; they were reluctant to turn back, with the
Decumanian Gate in sight, to meet the furious attack of the foe; but
Roman military discipline and the habit of obedience to their honored
General again conquered, so they went to meet Ausonius, while the
Tribune hastened onward.
The rising flames, the echoing blows of the axes, accompanied by the
ominous crash of splintering wood, urged the Tribune to still greater
speed; this gate must not be opened from the outside if his last
attempt to escape was not to fail. But scarcely had he reached the open
space before it, when fresh cries of despair rose from the column at
the left commanded by Ausonius. Before the pioneers had broken a
passage to the Prefect, his men had been reached by the arrows and
spears of the pursuers, and he himself, falling between two wagons,
suddenly vanished from their eyes. Loud lamentations from his followers
burst forth.
Then the pioneers turned and fled in the opposite direction; the
Barbarians were threatening on the left, so they ran down one of the
cross streets at the right which intersected the central one.
"Fly," called the foremost one, running directly past Herculanus, who
was making desperate but fruitless efforts to tear with his unchained
hands the solid oak-block from the earth or to release his feet from
the small holes and iron clamps. "Fly! Ausonius has fallen!"
"Ausonius is dead!" shouted the second; throwing away his heavy axe,
which impeded his flight. It fell near the prisoner, who, without
heeding the violent pain which the movement caused to his strained feet
and bruised ankles, stretched both arms toward it. Triumph! He could
reach it. At least he could touch the handle with the tips of his
fingers, draw it slowly nearer, then at last seize and drag it to his
side.
One of Ausonius's slaves, who had been wounded by an arrow, limped
along more slowly. "Oh, my kind master, Ausonius! He has fallen. He is
dead."
"Dead?" cried Herculanus, "are you sure he is dead?"
But the fugitive had not heard, or did not wish to hear him--he had
already moved on to Davus.
"Help me!" wailed the latter. "Don't leave me here to burn--or to fall
into the hands of the Barbarians!"
"Miserable murderer!" was the only answer. The fugitive had already
disappeared around the corner.
Meanwhile Herculanus, seizing the sharp axe with both hands and bending
downward, dealt blows with all his strength upon the oak-block which
held his feet, just between the two holes pierced from the top to the
bottom. At last the solid wood parted, breaking open the holes; two
more blows severed the shackles which bound his feet to the two halves.
The prisoner was free. Yet it was only with difficulty and severe pain
that he could use his legs, stiffened by sitting still so many hours
and swollen by the pressure on the bones. But the desire to live, the
hope of escape, conquered the pain: he walked, at first very slowly,
toward Davus, who had watched him enviously.
"Help me out too. You, you alone, have brought me to this."
"Yes, traitor, I'll help you out," cried the other, with an angry
laugh. Cleaving the slave's skull with the axe, he ran on more quickly,
his limbs becoming more supple at every step, toward the western end of
the cross street; for the noise from the east grew louder and louder.
The conflagration did not extend to this part of the camp. He glided
into a tent and hid himself, for he still had cause to fear his own
countrymen almost as much as the Barbarians. Here he found a short
dagger, like those worn by the Thracians, which he thrust into his
belt; he then put down the long-handled heavy axe, which had burdened
him while running.
Ausonius dead! Perhaps all who knew of that incident were dead too! He
could not shake off the thought while peering cautiously between two
folds of the tent, watching for a way of escape between Romans and
Barbarians.