A Captive of the Roman Eagles Part 15

I discovered her with much difficulty,--twilight was gathering,--and when at my call she slipped down I thought I saw tears in her eyes. But the crimson glow of sunset had probably dazzled me; I did not see them when she stood on the ground by my side, though she looked graver than usual.

"What do you want?" I asked.

"Liberty," was her swift answer.

Perhaps I looked perplexed or angry, for she went on hastily: "Forgive me! I was foolish. I know that if you set me free now, before the close of the war, I might fall into the hands of other Romans before reaching my people. And I am not ungrateful. How kind you are to me! Yet I often feel so homesick--for--for--oh, I don't know myself!"

Then I said in jest,--for never before, and even now not seriously, had the idea entered my mind,--"For a lover?"

She started back like a little red serpent. I have never seen her so angry, though the hot temper of the little creature boils over often enough. She stamped her tiny foot, the blood crimsoned her cheeks, and she vehemently exclaimed:

"A lover? The 'red biting cat'? I have no heart! How should _I_ love?"

Then turning her back on me defiantly she ran off to her tent and did not appear again that evening. But I am glad to learn from her own lips that no bond of affection will hold her fast in this Barbarian land, if I really decide to take her with me to Burdigala.

This possible obstacle to my wishes entered my thoughts rather late, you will tell me. But it was because I considered her a child so long.

Later I daily felt in my own heart the feeling within growing stronger.

No, no, this girl is a child no longer, but a maiden ready for her bridal.

The sweet wish--I scarcely repress it--is rapidly maturing. And with this dear girl I shall be sure of one thing: she will not marry me for my wealth, which I anxiously fear from our Gallic maidens. As to the widows, I feel gripes in my stomach whenever I think of them.

I will be cautious not to startle the timid child; for how can the Barbarian maiden dream of such an honor as even being invited as my guest to Burdigala? It is inconceivable that she should refuse: now that she has grown to womanhood. If she does, then--But no, surely it will not be necessary. And when she has once tasted the rich, beautiful life there, she will no longer desire to return to this wilderness.

Then ere long I can read aloud to her these verses which now I dare entrust only to my friend:

"Bissula, fair maid born and reared in the cold land beyond the Rhine, Bissula, who bloomed so near the source of the Danube: Captive of war, thou hast, when released from bondage, made captive Thy conqueror: his heart became the prisoner's booty.

Of a mother's care bereft, ne'er hast thou suffered a mistress: When thou a captive wast made, a mistress thou didst become, Though thou by Roman favor, O German, wast thus transformed.

Still hast thou thine eyes' deep azure, still hast thou thy hair's red gold.

Dual thou seemest now, and with dual charms adorn Latium's tongue thy mind, and Suabia's grace thy form."

How do you like them, my dear friend? I hope they are not bad. At least they please _me_ extremely, and you know I am not vain.

Now imagine how these melodious lines must gratify her--her who is their inspiration.

CHAPTER XXV.

The morning after Ausonius had made this last entry in his diary, Bissula, as usual, shared the first meal in his tent with the uncle and nephew. The Prefect of Gaul was in excellent spirits, often jested, talked a great deal, had his goblet repeatedly filled by the slave who was his cup-bearer, and remarked again that the campaign would soon be over. "When the ships come," he added in conclusion, "the Barbarians will sue for peace." Glancing up merrily his eyes chanced to rest on the young girl's face. To his surprise a mocking, nay, angry smile was hovering around lips pouting in defiance; her brow was frowning, and she made no reply. The conversation flagged. Hercula.n.u.s watched the rising cloud sharply, and eagerly fanned the flame.

"What?" he cried. "Peace? Bondage; extirpation! The Caesar will soon drag the last remaining Alemanni before his triumphal chariot to the Capitol: the leaders will be strangled, the rest sold cheap: a German for a cabbage."

Tears of rage filled Bissula's eyes. She could find no words; fury choked her voice. She searched her thoughts, her memory, for aid and defence. Adalo was the only name which came to her. "Yes, Adalo, if you were here, or if I had your swift speech, whispered by Odin! Stay--his verse--his verse of defiance. How, did it run?" She closed her eyes to think, resting her elbows on the table, with both little clenched hands pressed against her throbbing brow.

"I will offer a toast," Hercula.n.u.s went on, raising his goblet; "pledge me. You, the pupil of Ausonius, are surely one of us: Disgrace and death to the Alemanni!" Bissula sprang up. Her blue eyes were blazing; her red tresses fluttered around her head; a blow from her clenched fist sent the silver goblet rattling on the floor; and, in the language of her people, she cried loudly:

"Woe to the Latins!

Vengeance on Romans!

Break down their castles, Shatter their strongholds, Swing ye the sword Till the base robbers flee!

All this region Hath Odin given To his sons of victory-- To us, the Alemanni!

"Oh, I thank you, I thank you, Adalo!" And she rushed out of the tent.

"How foolish!" Ausonius said reproachfully to his nephew. "How inhospitable! How could you so incense our guest?"

"Guest? Our, that is, the Illyrian's, slave-girl. But forgive me, uncle. It shall not happen again. How little a Barbarian woman suits the society of Romans! Our thoughts, our wishes--she is implacably hostile to all. And Adalo? I have already heard the name. Isn't it--?"

"No matter who it is," thundered the uncle. "But you are my nephew, and have insulted, roused the lovely girl to furious rage at my table, in my tent. How would you in Burdigala--"

A gloomy, significant glance from the young Roman checked his thoughtless speech.

"You must appease her. Now leave me; I don't wish to see you again to-day. Or stay--I will follow her myself. Poor little thing!"

Ausonius rose excitedly from the couch and hurried out. Hercula.n.u.s and the slave who acted as cup-bearer remained alone in the tent.

"Is it so already?" muttered the former angrily through his set teeth.

"Does the childish infatuated old fool reveal his plans so openly? To work, Davus! Well or ill--to work! Have you the hemlock? Have you enough?"

"I think it will do. If it fail the first time, you still have some in the other little vial?" Hercula.n.u.s nodded. The slave went on:

"He complained yesterday of all sorts of bad feelings. I'll risk it soon, before he gets well again. But--one thing more--the Barbarian girl will sleep alone to-night."

"What? Not in the tent with the teamsters' wives?

"No; a contagious eruption broke out there last night: I heard Saturninus give the order to pitch another tent at once on the opposite side for the prisoner."

"But he will have her closely guarded."

"To-night he is going on a reconnoitring expedition with all his incorruptible Illyrians. Batavians are to be on duty: they are fond of drinking; perhaps--"

"Silence! This ring as a reward for the news. We don't yet know whether the plot against the old man will succeed, so we'll have two strings ready for our bow. And I hate her. I don't hate him; only I must have my inheritance quickly. So to-night! Hush, Prosper is coming! About the poison--in the two little vials--we'll say more later; you know where and when. First we'll wait to see what this night will bring forth."

Meanwhile kind-hearted Ausonius had vainly sought the angry fugitive.

He looked eagerly down the long wide streets of the camp which crossed in a square at the praetorium--in vain. Now he hoped to find her in her favorite hiding-place, the secluded spot with the tall fir-tree; but it was empty. Nor was she perched among the branches: he scanned them carefully.

Shaking his head he walked on still farther toward the northwest, to the wall itself. Here he heard voices raised as if disputing, a soldier's and Bissula's. Now he saw Rignomer, the Batavian sentry, with lowered spear forcing back the slowly retreating girl. The man spoke half in German, half in vulgar Latin; for at that time the Batavians and Alemanni, though both Germans, found it as hard to understand one another as the sailors of the Lower Rhine and the peasants of Lake Constance do at the present day.

"Back, you red elf, you beautiful Idise, you nymph, and never try it again! It would be a pity to hurt yourself. The wall is too high and the ditch too deep--" Then the soldier recognized the Prefect, saluted him, and went back to the top of the wall.

Bissula, noticing the respectful salute, had turned and, still violently agitated, rushed to Ausonius, exclaiming: "Father, set me free at once! at once!"

Ausonius shook his head. "Consider--"

"If you really catch defenceless girls and threaten to kill them by the sword, you glorious Romans, as your nephew--"

"When did he do that?"

"Never mind! Send me with a safe escort, with a letter from you beyond your outposts."