A Captive of the Roman Eagles Part 36

"You can scarcely stand. Go home at once, do you hear? I, command it by the oath of loyalty to the Duke. Waldrun will have a healing herb for you, too. Go!"

a.s.suming the direct leadership of the bands formerly commanded by Ebarbold and Adalo, the Duke spread his whole force into the widest possible front, to inclose the fugitives, and gave only one order: "Drive them into the lake!" The command was received with shouts of exultation, and faithfully obeyed. Hariowald had swung himself upon one of the numerous riderless horses dashing through and around the camp; his men eagerly followed his example, and thus the pursuit became a wild chase on horseback and on foot down the descent from the heights to the lake.

The blazing camp behind, and the blazing ships before them, cast a terribly beautiful, flickering light over the savage, warlike scene.

But already, though still very dim, another light was stealing where the red glare of the torches and the burning tents did not penetrate.

The night was no longer perfectly dark. Far away, in the extreme east, dawn was glimmering; for more than two, almost three hours of the September night had pa.s.sed in the battle around the camp since the criers had announced the second hour after twelve.

CHAPTER LIII.

Meanwhile Bissula had recovered consciousness. The loud summons of the tubas, giving the signal for the sally of the Romans, had roused her.

Raising herself in her hiding-place behind the beams and planks which, piled one above another to the height of a man, completely concealed her, she peered through the openings between them. Her heart throbbed with joy as she saw the lake gate, hitherto so impenetrably and inexorably closed against her, now standing wide open. Cautiously, crouching like a kitten that tries to escape the hand outstretched to seize it, she glided to the western corner of her hiding-place and looked out at the gate.

Yet, ardently as she longed for liberty, and familiar as was the fearless daughter of the forest by the lake with all the perils and horrors of the primeval woods and the waves, she was but a girl, and had never before witnessed the terrors of murderous battles. But now Bissula saw the b.l.o.o.d.y scenes, of which, hitherto, she had only heard from her uncle or some bard at a feast celebrating a victory: she saw, and trembled.

By the light of the two wings of the gate, now blazing furiously, the torches of the Romans, and the bundles of f.a.ggots hurled among the tents by the Alemanni, she saw close at hand, beyond the ditch, the b.l.o.o.d.y, murderous conflict. She saw the meeting between the Romans, as they burst from the camp, and the a.s.sailing bands of her own people; saw things which sent a thrill of horror through every vein.

Trembling in every limb she sank down, as though paralyzed, on a pile of lumber behind her, and gazed with dilated eyes, through the gate at the terrible spectacle, from which, with all its horrors, she could not avert her gaze, or even lower her eyelids. Suddenly she saw Saturninus, then he vanished, hidden by his Illyrians, then reappeared, far in the van. She recognized the King of the Ebergau,--he had given her a clasp at the last spring festival,--then she saw him fall backward without rising again. The little figure at his side, with fair curls floating around his uncovered head, was Sippilo. So the plunge from the wall had not injured him.

Then a gigantic Illyrian, swinging a blazing torch,--a terrible weapon,--approached him from the side. The boy did not see the brand uplifted above him; Bissula, forgetting all danger to herself, shrieked loudly. Then the soldier sank. For an instant she saw, by the glare of the torch, Adalo, who had rescued his brother, and she rejoiced at the spectacle, but the torch went out as its bearer fell. The brothers vanished from her sight. Directly afterwards she heard in loud, wailing tones the cry of many voices: "Adalo! alas for Adalo! alas for the Adeling!"

Horror and anxiety for her friend made her heart sink: she could get no further glimpse of him. And, from the camp behind her, a fresh uproar arose, which swiftly drew nearer. It was Hariowald, now with his men driving the last Batavians (Bissula recognized Rignomer) from the fortress of wagons, and the scattered Romans flying down all the streets through the Dec.u.manian Gate. She attempted to join the pursuing Alemanni, but their arrows and spears flew close about her; a stone from a sling fell crashing against a beam above her head and, terrified, she threw herself face downward on the ground and let the dangerous stream of foe and friend roar past her into the distance.

The camp soon became still, absolutely still. Outside the gate, too, the din of battle swept very swiftly down the hill toward the lake.

Bissula rose again and looked through the gate. In the distance she saw, though indistinctly, the surging ranks pour down the slope; she could scarcely distinguish the figures, but her people's shouts of victory rang loudly in her ears. A rush of joy filled her heart and she cried exultingly: "Victory! Liberty! Hurrah!" But the next instant she said to herself reproachfully: "And Ausonius! And brave Saturninus!

Alas! and Adalo!"

Her grief, her terrible anxiety for her lover drove her from her hiding-place even more powerfully than the longing for her liberation, and she resolved to venture across the dreaded battlefield, lately so full of uproar, now so horribly silent. The camp was deserted. At least it seemed so, as Bissula, stealing cautiously around the corner of the barricade, looked in every direction. She thought, too, of the faithful bear: "Bruna! Here, Bruna!" she called up the streets of the camp as loudly as she could; but no Bruna came. Though the burning tents still gave light enough, she saw no upright figure near, either of friend or foe. Only on the ground, here and there, some movement still remained.

A dead Celt lay directly across one of the streets, his helmet on his head and the spear still in his rigid hand. With horror--she had never before witnessed death, being only a few years old when she lost her parents--she cautiously stepped over the broad mailed breast, holding up her garments that they might not brush against the corpse. "Three bounds," she thought, "and I shall reach the gate." She had already raised her foot for a swift run, when a groan behind her reached her ear. Involuntarily, though shaken by fresh fear, she looked around.

Terrible things exert a strange compulsion which at the same time attracts and repels. A Roman severely wounded lay a few steps behind her, his head resting on a tent-pole, his right arm propped on the ground, and his left pressed against the gaping wound in his breast. He must have seen the girl, for, instead of moaning, he now called, in Latin, "Water, oh, pray give me some water!"

Bissula shrank in fear; besides, she dreaded to turn from the liberty beckoning outside the gate to go back into the camp. But her woman's heart conquered the terror, and she glanced around her to see if she could find means to quench the sufferer's thirst. Then her eyes fell on one of the huge tuns which, according to Roman camp regulations, always stood filled with water beside each gate. It was so high that she could scarcely look into it, but she pulled herself to the top with both hands and saw that there was plenty of water inside. But where was she to find a cup? All sorts of utensils lay scattered around, but neither goblet nor vessel.

Then a thought flashed through her mind which at first made her shudder. But she bravely conquered the girlish fright, went to the dead Celt, loosed, with trembling fingers, the iron band which fastened the helmet under his chin, drew it carefully, tenderly, as if the dead could feel, from his head, then hastened to the cask, half filled it, and carried it with both hands, the long horse-hair of the crest trailing on the ground. She walked slowly, that she might not spill too much, to the groaning man, who watched her movements with gla.s.sy eyes and opened his mouth eagerly. Kneeling by his side, she held the helmet sideways to his bearded lips. He drained it to the last drop, and with a long sigh of relief, laid his head back on the pole and said, with an effort:

"Are you a Christian?"

The girl shook back her red locks defiantly: "Freya and Frigga protect me."

"No matter," replied the dying man, "Christ, the Saviour, girl, will reward you for this drink!"

Bissula rose slowly, her glance rested upon the nearest street of tents to the left and, with a sharp cry of terror, she dropped the helmet and ran as swiftly as she could, toward the gate. For, down that street, brightly illumined by the blaze of the burning tents, she saw, stealing toward her, crouching like a beast of prey, with a dagger in his hand,--Hercula.n.u.s.

CHAPTER LIV.

Hitherto Hercula.n.u.s had remained concealed from both Romans and Germans in the tent on the cross street where he had sought refuge. Now everything around had become so still that he might have supposed the camp to be deserted, but the cautious fugitive probably would not have left the tent yet if the fire, and still more the smoke, of the consuming leather had not driven him away. Peering timidly between the folds, he glided out, and his first glance fell upon the hated girl to whom he believed he owed his downfall. With a short, half stifled cry of savage delight in vengeance, he sprang toward her, the quivering dagger uplifted, when he saw that he was discovered. But Bissula had a good start; he was obliged to pa.s.s the fifty paces of the cross street before reaching the corner tent where she had just been kneeling, and his aching feet would not permit him to follow as fast as his hate desired.

Meanwhile Bissula fled like a hunted deer down the central street to the gate; there she glanced back. Alas, he must have guessed the direction of her flight, for he also ran toward the gate and saw her pa.s.s out into the open country. He followed.

At first hate and revenge urged him recklessly on. But now, after obeying these impulses, he said to himself while running:

"Ausonius is dead; I am his heir. And perhaps the few others who knew of the incident died, too, in this hour, like Davus; only the Barbarian girl lives. Has he, meantime, made her his heiress? Hardly! And even if it were so, the will has probably burned with the other things in the camp; and even if it should be saved, what harm can it do, if the person named as heiress also perishes during this night of universal slaughter? However that may be, she shall not--must not live."

He too had reached the gate. The gray dawn of day was already diffusing sufficient pale light for him speedily to discover the flying figure on the opposite side of the ditch; her white garments and fluttering red locks betrayed her when the wind bore the glare from the burning camp in her direction.

Hercula.n.u.s leaped into the ditch, but uttered a cry of pain, and fell: his feet were too lame. Climbing and dragging himself up with his hands, with great difficulty and keen suffering he succeeded in reaching the southern side of the trench. The fugitive had gained a longer distance in advance. The Roman perceived this with furious rage and, battling with the pain, forcing his reluctant feet to bear him onward, he redoubled his efforts to overtake her.

Bissula was doubtless greatly terrified when, after pa.s.sing through the gate into the open country, she again saw flames rising before, as well as behind her, and heard the din of the raging battle. She had learned from Prosper the arrival of the ships and the camp made by the lake, so she understood that the conflict was probably now roaring around the galleys. Yet she unhesitatingly obeyed the impulse which led her away from Hercula.n.u.s straight down to the lake; there, though she would once more encounter the horrors of war, she would surely find her own people.

So she ran directly down the hill, always watching sharply to see if she could not distinguish one of the Alemanni on her way. But the men whom she met were not Alemanni; they were Romans, and lay dead or dying on the earth. Once she was startled by a horse that dashed across her path; trembling, she hid herself behind a clump of bushes; but the steed bore no rider. Two, four, six masterless animals followed the first, but neither Romans nor Alemanni, who might have threatened or protected her, were visible far or near: flight and pursuit had long since swept down to the lake. A furious struggle was still raging below.

She was forced to stop a moment, her heart was beating so violently.

Looking back from the bushes, she saw a dark figure, now plainly visible in the light of morning, still swiftly chasing her; nay, it seemed as though, behind the first, a second pursuer had rushed from the camp or risen from the ground.

Again she ran forward, confidently hoping to reach her people by the lake before she was overtaken; for the child of the forest was skilled in running and had a considerable start. But, after a few steps, fresh terror seized her: she again heard, this time directly behind her, the hoofbeats of a horse. At first she hoped it was another riderless charger, but it followed directly upon her track, and she now heard, in the language of the foe, all sorts of cries urging the animal on. A frightful thought darted through her brain. At any cost, she must turn to see whether--

Yes, her fears were verified. Hercula.n.u.s had caught one of the horses that crossed his path, thrown himself upon it, and was now pursuing the girl, who was using the last remnant of her strength to fly. She distinctly heard the heavy feet splash through the marshy pools of the meadow land; heard, alas! louder and louder, therefore nearer and nearer, the fierce shouts of the rider and the trampling of hoofs winged by his excitement. The s.p.a.ce which separated them grew shorter and shorter very rapidly. Mortal terror overwhelmed Bissula; she remembered how the cruel Roman had tried to kill her in the forest hut like an animal slain for sacrifice.

In this approach of death one name, one only sprang to her lips.

"Adalo!" she shrieked, "Adalo! Help, save me, save Bissula!"

Vain appeal! No human being was visible far or near. No answer came.

There was no fighting on the strip of sh.o.r.e toward which she was running, only far out on the lake blazing Roman galleys were floating, pursued by the little boats of the Alemanni.

The terrible horse was already very near. She could hear the snorting of the animal as it was urged forward with blows of the heels, shaking of the bridle, and shouts, to more and more frantic speed. Then--oh, rescue!--she saw in the gray light of morning, close to the sh.o.r.e, hidden among the rushes, two boats of the Alemanni side by side. Those were certainly no Roman vessels: there was neither triangular sail nor lofty prow. Bissula even fancied that she distinguished on one the sixteen-branched antlers, Adalo's house-mark. Yes, yes, there it was; it was his fishing boat, and several men were bending to the oars. She called loudly several times: "Help, Alemanni, help for Bissula!"

Oh, joy! They had heard her voice. The men were rowing with all their might; both boats were flying toward the sh.o.r.e to meet her. And then, more joy: she heard behind her a loud cry and a dull, heavy fall with a splashing noise. She could not help looking back.

Yes, the horse, urged beyond its strength by the pitiless rider, had fallen; it lay on its side, lashing out savagely with its hoofs. But alas! Bissula had rejoiced too soon. The rider had sprung up unhurt and was now running toward her--only a few steps away, brandishing his dagger. The second pursuer appeared from behind the horse. And the boat was still several ship's lengths out upon the lake. Without hesitation the girl leaped into the water, waded as long as she could touch the bottom, then with a strong push from the ground, spread out her powerful white arms, well practised in the art, and swam toward the nearest boat.

No girl on the northern sh.o.r.e excelled Bissula in swimming; but the long flowing folds of her robe hampered her, winding about her feet as soon as they were wet and preventing her from aiding the strokes of her arms with those of the lower limbs. And, horror! splashes behind her announced that her pursuer, or two of them, had followed her into the lake, for she thought she twice heard a plunge or a heavy fall. This fear paralyzed the last remnant of her strength; her arms also refused to obey her will; she sank with her face low in the water.

Once more she raised herself from it; then she felt her pursuer seize her long robe and drag her toward the land; but at the same instant his grasp relaxed; a shrill death-cry fell upon her ear, followed by a low, angry growl. Turning her head, she saw Hercula.n.u.s sinking in the arms of a huge blackish-brown beast.

"Bruna!" she called again; then her senses seemed to fail. There was a strange roaring in her ears; the water filled her nose, mouth, and ears, and she sank.

Just at that moment four strong arms seized her by the shoulders, and the white hands flung high out of the waves for the last time. With great, but tender strength she was lifted into the boat. Then she opened her eyes: Ausonius and Saturninus stood before her. She shrieked aloud in the anguish of the keenest disappointment; her eyelids closed, her senses failed, and faintness overwhelmed her.

CHAPTER LV.

Even the reenforcements of Saturninus's troops could not have changed the result of the battle around the ships and the camp on the lake-sh.o.r.e: the die had fallen long before, nay, almost at the moment the conflict began; for the surprise here had been almost more complete than in the a.s.sault upon the Idisenhang.