The camp on the lake shore had been taken, with great loss of life to
the Romans.
A camp wall and ditch had been hurriedly made in the few hours after
their arrival, merely for form's sake, because the good old Roman
custom prescribed it, and Nannienus insisted upon its observance. But
the Commander himself closed his eyes to the carelessness of the work.
This camp was to be abandoned at dawn on the following morning and its
men sent to garrison the one on the Idisenhang and to march in pursuit
of the Barbarians. So the ditch was dug only a few feet deep, the wall
erected only a few feet high, and other fortifications were omitted.
The Alemanni instantly poured from all directions into the fortress,
whose inmates were overcome by sleep and wine.
The old Duke had given them counsel taken from the songs of a wandering
bard, who had sung in his own hall, to the music of his harp, ancient
tales of his race. The man was a Batavian and bore the names, an odd
medley, Julius Claudius Civilis Chlodomer. He went from tribe to tribe
as far as they understood his language, singing and telling the old
songs and legends. So he related how, three centuries before, his
people, skilled in the use of arms, and led by his ancestor who, though
a German, had the same Roman names as his distant descendant, fought
furiously against the Roman yoke and won many a victory, inspired by
Veleda, a maiden prophetess of the Bructeri.
And he sang how once, one moonless, starless night, they attacked a
Roman ship camp on the Rhine: the galleys were anchored in the river;
on the shore were many tents. The Batavians first cut the main ropes,
which wound around the poles stretching the tents; and the sleepers,
buried, entangled, and held beneath them, were easily overpowered while
thus defenceless:
"Like plump fish captured
In nets by night,
They struggled, shouting
Their tents beneath."
The old Duke had firmly impressed upon his mind these lines of the
Batavians; they had seemed to him the best of all, and he now used what
he had learned.
The Romans were wakened first by the tents falling in upon them, by the
glare of flames on all sides, and then by the Germans' shouts of
victory. They scattered without offering the least resistance; saw the
ships, their nearest refuge, also burning; tried to climb to the camp
on the height, but beheld fire blazing there also, and fled, without
aim or plan, to the right and left along the shore of the lake. They
were pursued by few of the victors, who preferred, first of all, to
seize the small Roman vessels and in these aid their comrades to board
the proud biremes. These vessels would contain more men, and their
higher decks were far better suited to climb the sides of the large war
galleys than the low fishing boats of the Alemanni. So it happened that
many German boats drifted to the shore empty, their crews having
abandoned them to pursue in the smaller Roman vessels, the Roman
galleys, or having already boarded them.
When Decius, with the little band of Illyrians, whom he had held
together around the wounded General and Ausonius, reached the burning
camp, even Saturninus, with the biremes blazing before his eyes,
recognized reluctantly that here, too, all was lost, and any
continuation of the battle impossible. He consented, hesitatingly, to
think only of flight. Rignomer, who had joined the General at the lake
gate, was the first to discover, as he gazed watchfully to and fro,
several deserted boats of the Alemanni drifting near them.
Leaping into the water, sometimes wading, sometimes swimming, he
reached the first, climbed in, found the oars, rowed to the three
skiffs nearest, tied them together with the ropes tangled near the
steering oar, and soon brought his little fleet so close to the shore
that the wounded Commander could be placed in the largest one, while
the whole band of fugitives--five or six in each--entered the others.
By his advice they all removed the high Roman helmets, which could be
recognized at a long distance, and the glittering Roman armor. At his
suggestion, too, they separated. Even Decius willingly followed the
counsel of the Batavian, an expert in sailing, in order not to attract
the enemy's attention so easily: thus they hoped to reach Arbor, on the
southern shore, singly and undetected.
When Hariowald and his followers arrived, they found nothing to do
except to take possession of all the Roman and German vessels which
still lay unused near the land, and continue the pursuit of the war
galleys on the lake. Springing into a Roman transport boat, he ordered
his men to row him to Nannienus's galley, where the boarders, after
overpowering the crew, had extinguished the flames. A man standing on
the lofty deck flung a rope ladder into the boat and gave Hariowald his
hand to help him on board. It was now dawn; the Duke recognized
Fiskulf, the fisherman.
"What!" cried the old Commander in astonishment. "Did Odin really save
you? Then he is even more powerful and more gracious than I expected."
"It must be so," replied the man, with a happy laugh. "I was the first
on deck, flung, the first brand into the main sail, and swung the
Italian lord overboard like a lake salmon out of an ice-hole. But then
I saved the beautiful ship by putting out the flames. I thought: 'It is
better to capture than to burn.' Did I keep my word?"
"You have surpassed it. And are you uninjured?"
"Not entirely: henceforth I shall have one ear less. It must be owned
that the short swords of these Italians slice sharply, and they deal
powerful blows. Look, not even the mother who bore me with two ears
would believe that one ever peered out under my hair here--he shaved it
off so smoothly."
The Duke held out his hand: "You shall be one of my followers, Fiskulf!
You have learned to hear and to obey me."
"Yes, my lord, even with one ear! When I miss the second, I shall
always tell myself why I lost it."
"And how the Lofty One gave you back the life forfeited to him: never
forget that. But now we will pursue the Italians across the lake to
Arbor on their own splendid galley. Spread every sail!"
"Where shall we get them, my lord? They are all burned."
"Then stretch your mantles for sails. The north wind will help to fill
them; a fresh west northwest breeze will spring up at sunrise. See how
the waves are rippling already. The first red ray of morning is
breaking through yonder clouds. Quick, men, seize the Roman oars; the
morning sun must greet us on the southern shore. Ha, do you behold it
over yonder? Smoke and flames are rising in Arbor. Our eastern men, the
Hermunduri, and our kinsmen, now free, though hitherto under the
foreign yoke, have kept their promise. Up! On to Arbor to celebrate the
third victory of one night!"
He seized the helm himself. The proud galley of the Romans turned her
prow away from the northern shore, and being now rowed by the
conquerors, moved majestically across the lake. The mantles of the
Alemanni, brown, blue, yellow, and red, filled in the fresh
northwestern breeze, and the well-built ship darted swiftly through the
water, which reflected the clear sky in the increasing brightness of
the morning and shone with a wonderful azure hue. The waves broke in
foam before the bow, tossing their white spray high into the air;
little rosy clouds were floating in the eastern sky and were mirrored
in the lake.
With the folds of his dark mantle around him, his white locks
fluttering, his head crowned with a shining white helmet, Hariowald's
tall figure stood forth in strong relief against the sky, as he
remained at the helm erect and motionless, his spear flung over his
shoulder. So the ship and her helmsman gradually vanished beyond the
sight of the eyes watching them intently from the northern shore.
Rignomer, peering from behind his sail, also saw and recognized him.
"They can upbraid me as much as they please," he muttered. "Where is
Brinno, who tried to oppose him? They can say what they choose. Even
though in human form, it is still _he_!"