THE UNEXPECTED MEETING.
In a mountain pass a little to the westward of the spot where now
stands the small town of Bassano, among the first shoots of the
Rh[ae]tian Alps, travelled onward the family of wanderers, whose
various course we have traced from the beginning of this tale, as,
compelled by circumstances, and dogged by misfortune, they were driven
from land to land.
They were no longer, however, alone and undefended amid all the strife
and danger of those perilous times: for the small body of Huns which
had guarded Theodore in his journey to the imperial city had formed a
nucleus, round which the Hunnish auxiliaries in the neighbourhood of
Rome had gathered, as he retrod his steps towards Pannonia; and a
little army of barbarians now accompanied him on the way. Those who
had been attached to him from his first arrival in the Hunnish
territory had not failed to magnify his deeds and reputation to every
detached troop who joined them. The favour in which he stood with
Attila was told and commented on; and his power and influence, as well
as his courage, skill, and conduct, were so highly represented, that
each party tacitly submitted to his authority; and in all great
things, such as the direction and general regulation of their march,
suffered the young Roman to retain the command of the whole force, as
well as of his own particular followers.
He was thus enabled to save the country through which he passed from
pillage; and though two or three times reports reached him of bodies
of the imperial troops following his path, and even rumours of
[AE]tius having returned, and being on his march across the fertile
plains of Lombardy with a powerful army met his ear, he was happily
enabled to reach the foot of the Alps without having recourse to one
act of violence against any Roman citizen whatsoever.
The spot where they now halted for the day was by the banks of one of
those small lakes, whereof so many fertilize and beautify the lower
passes of the Alps. On every side around rose up the mighty mountains;
and over their wooded sides the clear masses of light and shade flew
swift as the soft large clouds were borne by the quick wind through
the lustrous summer's sky. It was evening time; and in all the
thickets round about the nightingales--sweet untaught choristers, in
whose tuneful art no time nor cultivation can improve a tone or
sweeten a single note--were chanting their thrilling anthem to the God
of nature. In the clear mirror of the lake, deep down appeared the
inverted mountains, with the softened sky beyond, and every quick
change of light and shade.
It was a lovely scene; and though the hearts of Theodore and Ildica
had now become sadly learned in the lessons of frequent
disappointment, yet that spot recalled their sweet refuge on the other
side of those dark Alps, where, amid the friendly Alans, they had
enjoyed some brief, but never to be forgotten, hours of unalloyed
delight. It recalled that place of refuge, and the hopes which they
there had felt; and though those hopes had again been disappointed,
they blossomed anew, different, yet the same; changed a little in form
and arrangement, but not less beautiful, not less sweet--flowers of
another spring, but of the same kind, from the same stem, from the
same earth.
They had pitched their tents in a situation which recalled their
former resting-place the more strongly, as it was upon a projecting
point a short way up the hill. Below them lay the encampment of their
Hunnish followers, and around them the domestic servants of their
house; and as they sat there, and wisely encouraged once more the
happy feelings that were willing to return, Theodore urged that, as
they were now once more in safety, Ildica might give him her hand,
whenever they could meet with a minister of religion to sanctify their
union. Ildica said not one word against it; and as, with a slight
blush and downcast eye she gave no unwilling consent, Theodore thought
her far more lovely than ever, although a shade of melancholy,
gathered from frequent disappointment, anxiety, and grief, hung over
her as if it had been a veil, seldom, if ever, raised entirely, even
in her happiest moments. That shade of melancholy also was somewhat
darker now, inasmuch as her fair and beloved mother had shown signs of
failing strength under the long and weary journey which they had just
been compelled to take. Theodore hoped that the day's repose which
they were now enjoying in that calm scene might sufficiently restore
Flavia to proceed with comfort; but Ildica clearly saw that her mother
could bear no great fatigue; and from some casual words which had
fallen from her parent's lips, she had gathered that it was her
intention, as soon as the double union of her children with those of
Paulinus had taken place, to retire for ever from the busy world, and
pass her remaining days in one of those places of seclusion which were
at that time to be found in almost every part of the world. Ildica
could not contemplate such a separation without pain; and though she
shrunk not from her union with one whom she loved so deeply and
intensely, yet she feared the parting with her mother, whom she had
loved so long, and who loved her so tenderly.
Upon the brow of the promontory, Theodore and Ildica sat and gazed,
and thought over the future, with sweet hopes and dark apprehensions
crossing the expanse of thought, like the sunshine and the shade that
flitted across the mountains before their eyes; and ever and anon they
spoke over many things, with that unreserved confidence which is one
of the sweetest drops in the ambrosial cup of love. Since they had
last met, the tone of Ildica's mind had undergone some alteration. It
had become deeper, more intense, more enthusiastic. In everything that
engaged her--though there might be fewer things that did so--she took
a profounder interest; and, whether it was her love for Theodore, her
devotion to the bright faith in which she had been reared, her love
for her mother, or any other thing in which her heart was concerned,
there was a depth, a strength, an energetic eagerness in her whole
feelings which raised and ennobled her still more than ever in the
eyes of her lover.
They sat and gazed. Wide spread over the valley below, and up the
sides of the hill, even higher than themselves, might be seen various
parties of the Huns, seeking forage for their horses, or food for
themselves; and as the eye of Theodore was turned towards the entrance
of the valley, where mountain falling over mountain seemed to close up
the pass, he thought he saw a considerable degree of bustle and
movement in a body of about thirty or forty of the barbarians, whom he
had marked winding down in that direction by the banks of a small
stream that entered the lake hard by. It subsided in a few minutes,
however, and he took no further notice, pursuing his conversation with
Ildica, and looking on well pleased, while the Huns, in a spot void of
other inhabitants, engaged themselves in a thousand peaceful
occupations, as if they never sought for strife or dipped their hands
in blood.
Half an hour more had elapsed, or perhaps scarcely so much, and
Theodore and Ildica were deep in the business of their own hearts,
when suddenly a step sounded among the tents behind them,
which--wherefore he knew not--made Theodore start and turn round.
What was his astonishment when, not a spear's length from him, he
beheld Attila himself,[4] who, advancing with a slow step, looked
upon the young Roman with a smile as distinct as ever crossed
his stern, fixed countenance. The next moment, however, the
glance of the barbarian monarch turned upon Ildica; and the light of
suddenly-excited admiration shone forth from his eyes. It was but
momentary, however, and, addressing himself kindly to Theodore, he
said, "So, my son, thou hast left the bright court of Valentinian to
come back to the barbarian. Thou art welcome; for I may chance to have
much need of thee; and thou shalt find, as thou hast found, higher
honours and a kinder monarch in the land of the stranger than in thine
own."
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[Footnote 4: The march of the armies of Attila in all his expeditions
is very doubtfully displayed by ancient historians; but that in his
advance into Italy he took and sacked the city of Augusta
Vindelicorum, or Augsburg, is clear, previous to the capture of
Aquileia, and therefore that he must have traversed some part of the
Julian or Rh[ae]tian Alps is equally certain. Any one who casts his
eye upon the map will see that his direct way into Italy, from
Vindelicia, was by the passes of the Tyrol; and any one who is
acquainted with the nature of the country will, if he take into
consideration that the army of Attila consisted entirely of cavalry,
conclude that the Brenner was the pass by which he conducted his
myriads towards the plains of Lombardy.]
---------------
Thus saying, he sat himself familiarly down upon the bank between
Theodore and Ildica. She, however, rose, and was about to retire into
the tent; but he stopped her, gently saying, "Do not depart! Fear me
not, fair one; I will not injure thee. Who is this, my son?" he
continued, addressing Theodore--"is this thy sister?"
"Not so, oh king!" answered Theodore, who had always found it best to
speak to Attila the straightforward truth, without the slightest
disguise or concealment. "Not so: she is my promised bride, and in a
few days will be my wife."
"'Tis well!" said Attila; "'tis well! She is beautiful, and doubtless
good. I will witness thy nuptials, and give thee the bridal present;
for I hear, from those whom I met but now at the end of the valley,
that thou needest a protector, and one shalt thou find in Attila."
Ildica still stood lingering, as if anxious to retire; and the monarch
of the Huns perceiving her embarrassment, added suddenly, "Well, hie
thee in, then, fair one; thou fearest the barbarian king; but Attila
can be gentle to those he loves. I will pass this day with thee, my
son; and this timid girl shall see that he whom she has been taught to
look upon as a cruel tyrant, can sit him down as peacefully to a calm
and humble board as the most polished and effeminate Roman of them all
can cast himself on his couch to gorge upon a thousand dishes. Hie
thee in, fair one; I will speak with thy lover alone."
Ildica obeyed; and after she was gone Attila remained for several
moments in a deep fit of thought. Then, raising his head, he turned to
some of his attendants who stood near, saying, "Get ye gone, and bring
up hither the roe deer that the men took in the forest as we came
along, with what fish ye can find in the stream. Here will I take my
evening meal. Get ye gone, all of you."
The attendants departed as they were bid; and Attila again fell into a
deep fit of thought, after which he turned to Theodore, and said,
abruptly, "I am glad thou hast come back. This Valentinian, this
woman-emperor, is insolent, and must be punished; and I am well
pleased that thou dwellest not among those who will soon feel the
sword of Attila. Knowest thou what has happened in the East?"
"I heard as I went to Rome," said Theodore, "that the base murderer of
my father, Theodosius, is no more; but I have heard no further
tidings, and only guess that the empire has fallen to his sister,
Pulcheria."
"And that Pulcheria has taken unto herself a husband," added Attila,
"on whom she has conferred the rule of the land. We hear that he is a
brave man and a wise man. If he be wise he will pay our tribute, or he
will have to do with a braver than himself."
"Doubtless he will pay it," replied Theodore, with a sigh. "Hast thou
sent to demand it, oh mighty king?"
"I have," answered Attila. "For if it be not paid after conquering
Rome, I march to Constantinople. But doubtless he will pay it."
"Is this new monarch's name known?" demanded Theodore: "I know most of
those who were in favour at the court of the East; but I know none on
whom Pulcheria was likely to shower such gifts."
"His rise has been sudden," answered Attila. "He had gained some
renown as a soldier, and was a military tribune; but enjoyed no great
favour with the empty Theodosius: his name is Marcian."
"Marcian!" exclaimed Theodore, with joy sparkling from his eyes: "he
was the dearest friend of my dead father, and since my father's death
has been equally the dear and considerate friend of his friend's
children. He is, indeed, great as a warrior--noble and wise as a man."
Attila's brow grew dark, as if he loved not to hear such praises of
the Eastern emperor.
"Think you," he demanded, harshly, "that he will pay the tribute?
Think you that he will yield obedience to our commands?"
"I think," replied Theodore, firmly, "that he will yield to no demand
urged in a haughty tone. Were the greatest monarch on all the earth, I
would rather have Marcian for my friend than for my enemy."
"Ha!" cried Attila: "he had better set his naked foot upon an asp than
cross my path of victory. Ha! what sayest thou? will he dare to raise
himself up against Attila?"
"Perchance not, oh great king," replied Theodore, "perchance not; but
it will depend upon Attila's demeanour towards him. Marcian is no
Theodosius. Bred in arms from his youth upward, his birthplace was the
battle-field; the camp his cradle; war and strife the sport of his
youth; command the employment of his manhood. He is no silken reposer
on soft couches, but a hardy soldier, for whom the palace will
scarcely afford a pillow hard enough to prop his head. If Attila
entreat him fairly, Marcian is one to reverence and to love the high
qualities of that mighty monarch, and to grant him the friendship that
one great man is fond to feel towards another; but if Attila declares
himself the enemy, and seeks to become the master of the emperor,
Marcian will draw the sword, and it will never be sheathed till one or
the other lie in the cold grave. Oh Attila, you have never yet met
with Marcian. Better, oh king, better far to have him for your friend
than for your enemy!"
Attila rolled his dark eyes fiercely as Theodore spoke; but for some
minutes he answered not, and then, gradually resuming his stern
calmness, he said, "We shall see! We shall see! I seek not to wrong
him--but we shall see! So this Macian was your father's friend; and
you know and love him yourself?"
"I do, oh Attila!" answered Theodore, "and I have cause. After my
father's death, Marcian sought out, protected, befriended me; enabled
me and mine to pursue our flight in safety, and risked even the
emperor's wrath in order to favour our escape. I love him dearly, and
he, for my father's sake, loves me. He is one of those men who, like
thyself, oh king, are hard and firm as some fine gem, which nothing
but a gem will cut; but upon which, the lines once engraved no power
will afterward remove; and there they last, as clear and definite
under the wearing power of time as if nothing but a soft stream passed
over them. My father's love will never be forgot."
"The tribune might remember," said Attila, "what the emperor may
forget."
"Not so, oh king!" answered Theodore: "Marcian changes not. The same
was he as a common soldier in the Roman ranks, as when a tribune,
possessed of vast power. When in the lowest military station in the
state, his conduct, his manners, his mind, showed him worthy of the
highest; and when midway to power and dignity, unlike the changeful
herd of ordinary men, authority sat as lightly on him as obedience.
What he was as a soldier he was as a tribune, and will be as an
emperor. Though not born in that high station, he was born for it; and
not only his virtues and his talents, but many another more marvellous
indication showed that one day God would place in his hand the
destinies of the Roman people."
"Indeed!" cried Attila, fixing his eye upon the young Roman with a
greater expression of surprise than he ever manifested on any ordinary
occasion. "Indeed! What were these portents?"
"They have been many, as I have heard," replied Theodore. "Escapes
from danger almost miraculous; and twice, when sleeping in the open
field, an eagle has been seen to hover over his head, and shade him
from the scorching sun. These I report but on hearsay. Once, however,
I can speak myself to an event of the same kind. After a great
earthquake, some four years ago, he was coming from Salona to
Aspalathos, and was met by us upon the road. He pitched his tent
where we encountered him; and while we were still with him, an eagle,
which had followed his troop all day, came down and rested on the
tent-pole."
Attila started up and seemed troubled. "This is very strange," he
said: "you were present yourself?"
"I was," answered Theodore. "There is no more doubt of it than that I
stand here."
"An eagle!" exclaimed the monarch: "so wild and fierce a bird to
alight and rest amid a troop of men!"
"It is strange, indeed, oh king!" said Theodore, "most strange, but no
less true; and its very strangeness made all men but himself believe
that it was an indication of some future greatness."
Attila replied not, but remained several minutes with his eyes bent
upon the ground; and then, starting somewhat abruptly, he exclaimed,
"Let us into thy tents, my son; I will eat with thee and drink with
thee this night; and then leave thee till to-morrow, when thou shalt
go back with me to Tridentum. There my own ambassadors and those of
Marcian come to seek me; and as I will not ask thee to bear arms
against thy country, instead of taking thee with me to sweep away
Valentinian and tread upon Rome, I will send thee to this noble
monarch of the East. Thou mayst do more with him, perchance, than a
mere stranger."
The heart of Theodore beat high, for he saw before him a prospect of
better things and happier days. The hope of a journey to
Constantinople, where he might place Ildica, and all who were dear to
him, under the generous protection of Marcian, was in no slight degree
joyful, and he at length beheld, or imagined that he beheld, a certain
and permanent refuge for the future, and a happy termination to all
his wanderings. Gladly, then, did he express his willingness to accept
the office which Attila proposed to confer upon him; and though there
was something dark, and even gloomy, in the countenance of the king as
he followed the young Roman into his tent, yet the eyes of Theodore
were lighted up with joy and satisfaction, which spread itself to all
around.
He found no opportunity of relating what had happened, or of
explaining the hopes and prospects which had cheered his breast, yet
Ildica saw sufficient in the glad smile of Theodore's lip to feel sure
that some new source of joy had been opened out for them all. At
heart, indeed, she was anxious for her mother, who, ill at ease, and
reposing in another tent, entered not that in which the king partook
of the evening meal with her children; but still the demeanour of the
monarch himself, and the satisfaction which he saw upon the
countenance of Theodore, banished the darker apprehensions which had
mingled with her former hopes.
The dark monarch of the Huns, retaining all his simple habits,
drinking from the cup of horn, and served on no richer materials than
wood, unbent in the tent of the young Roman, as far as his own stern
nature would suffer him to do, from the rigid gravity of his usual
demeanour. He spoke kindly and gently to Theodore and the rest, whom
he made sit around him, and from time to time his lip almost relaxed
into a smile at the wild, light spirit of Ammian, which would have
way, notwithstanding the overawing presence of that mighty and
terrible man. On Eudochia he gazed as on a beautiful child; and though
he but seldom turned his eyes towards Ildica, yet when he did so there
was in them an expression which showed that her exquisite beauty,
however graceful and refined, was appreciated by the barbarian monarch
as much as it could have been by the most delicate sculptor of ancient
Greece. Theodore, however, felt no alarm; and as soon as Attila had
mounted his horse and departed for his own camp, which was at the
distance of but a few miles, the young Roman hastened to communicate
to Ildica and her mother his hopes and wishes. He told them the
prospect of his being sent on a mission to Marcian; and he besought
her he loved to give him her hand, and to go with him as his bride to
the city of Constantine. Flavia's countenance lighted up with joy at
the thought, and Ildica said not nay. Again the time of their union
was named, with but an intervening day, and Theodore lay down to rest
with as much happiness as hope can pour into the human breast.