A Captive of the Roman Eagles Part 39

"Yes. Be calm, little one," the Tribune interposed good humoredly. "His stroke was really no harder than mine. I am still alive, so he will doubtless live too."

"Oh, Ausonius!" pleaded Bissula, raising both hands beseechingly. But he did not let her finish the sentence. Pa.s.sing his hand across his eyes he murmured unheard by the others: "It is over. This hour has made me an old man." Then he asked: "Where do you wish to be put on sh.o.r.e?

Opposite to Suomar's forest hut?"

"Thank you, my warmest thanks! But not there, farther to the left from here; yonder under the willows, where a n.o.bleman's hall stands on the height."

"His!" exclaimed Ausonius.

"Which you saved for him," added Saturninus. "All very beautiful and n.o.ble--almost touching!" the Tribune continued, trying to seem unmoved, yet at the same time kindly stroking the hand of the young girl, in whose eyes the dancing light of joy mingled with tears like May rain.

"Only I will not permit the Prefect Praetor of Gaul to return to that sh.o.r.e full of murderous wolves. No, indeed I will not. Neither will I risk the life of any Roman soldier. Who is to take her to the land?"

"I will go myself alone!" cried the eager girl.

"That some Roman murderous wolf may follow you again on your way to the hall; they are still worse!" cried the voice of some one, in German.

"No, ill.u.s.trious Tribune," it continued in Latin, "I will take the child to her friends."

Rignomer now stepped from behind the sail which had concealed him. His appearance was totally transformed: he had removed the Roman helmet long before; now he had unbuckled the coat of mail and thrown around him a brown Alemannic mantle which he had found in the boat. Instead of the Roman weapons he carried over his shoulder a long iron-shod pole, used for pushing and guiding boats while it could touch the bottom.

"You?" asked Saturninus. "You too will be a dead man if they catch you--a warrior in the Roman service."

"Pardon me; I am one no longer. My time of service expired at midnight--the last of the long seven years: what I did since--"

"It was----" replied Saturninus.

"Was done voluntarily. I shall not renew my oath of service. No, no! I have had enough--more than enough of it. The Emperor still owes my pay for the last month. I will let it go. I shall return to my mother, on the Issala. But first I will take this runaway child to her people."

As he spoke he grasped her hand. "Jump over, little one. See, the other boat is empty: they have all climbed up into the galley. Jump over!

Happily, we are going home!"

"So be it!" said Ausonius, without resentment but gravely: "Farewell, Bissula! We part never to meet again."

He turned away. Bissula threw herself on his breast and, amid flowing tears, kissed his n.o.ble brow. His face had never been so handsome.

"Ausonius, farewell!"

She sprang into the second boat, where Rignomer was already standing; then she turned again toward the other one. This had been fastened by a rope to the galley and now began to follow it as, propelled by many oars, it swept toward the southwest.

"Father Ausonius, I thank you!" she called. But he did not hear. With his face averted from his young friend, and his gray head pressed against the mast, he was weeping bitterly.

The ship, dragging the boat in its wake, flew swiftly away.

The Batavian wielded the oars st.u.r.dily, and the light boat rapidly approached the sh.o.r.e.

Bissula no longer watched the disappearing Roman galley, but with a throbbing heart sprang into the bow of the boat, where Adalo's house-mark, the sixteen-branched antlers, rose proudly; she could not help stroking it tenderly. The next instant she turned, laughing and clapping her hands joyously, and exclaimed: "Now, Rignomer, you shall see for once what rowing means. We are moving far too slowly for me!"

Lifting two oars from the bottom of the light boat she put them skilfully into the willow holders, seized them with both hands and, standing erect, her face turned toward the sh.o.r.e, rowed with such strength and skill that Rignomer exclaimed in wonder: "By Freya's eyes, girl, you might become a boatman on the Issala any day! You can do this too? A pity that you are not going with me to my mother!" The boat shot to the land among the marshes. Bissula reached the ground with a long leap before the Batavian could help her. The steersman had kept a straight course for the n.o.bleman's hall: they saw the stately wooden mansion towering directly above them on the hill.

"Oh, Donar be thanked," cried the girl joyously. "He has saved his favorite beast, as the she-bear saved me."

"What? What are you looking at in the mire?"

"See! Bear tracks; very fresh ones! She was not drowned; she ran yonder to the right along the sh.o.r.e on the old path where Sippilo and I always went to fish."

"Who is Sippilo?" asked the Batavian. "Another Adalo?"

"Oh, nonsense! A child. And just see; from here the tracks go directly to the hall. Come! Don't walk! Leap! Spring up the hill!"

"No, little one," said the Batavian gravely. "You can run; I will not go with you. You seem to know the way, to know it very well. There is no human being in sight far or near. You can reach the hall safe without me. Aha, there too, a huge stag's antlers tower from the roof. That is the reason you were so pleased with the one on the boat's prow.

Farewell, little one! I won't go to the meeting--I mean yours with Adalo and all the rest who belong to his clan."

"They would thank you for having done so much for me."

"Never mind the thanks. I did not do it for them."

"Where are you going?"

"Home. To the north and west. No, have no fear for me; I shall make my way through. Here in my breast, little one, I carry the pay and the price of the booty won in seven years; and on my shoulder is this pole.

One can go far with these two a.s.sistants. Farewell! And,"--he whispered in her ear--"heed my words: never defy the man you call your Duke; for he is--_he_!"

He patted her hair and her pretty round head with rough tenderness as he spoke, and then sprang toward the west along the lake sh.o.r.e. Once he stopped to look after her--he wanted to wave another farewell. But Bissula did not see him. She was running, with glowing cheeks, up the hill.

CHAPTER LIX.

It was now broad daylight. The sun was shining radiantly on the mountain and the lake. Light clouds which hitherto had hung like a veil thrown over a long spear about the peak of Sentis floated swiftly down into the valley. During the night a light snow had fallen upon Sentis and Todi and the other topmost peaks in the chain, and lay there glittering like sparkling crystal. It was very peaceful. The war--thanks to Bissula--had not brought its destruction here. h.o.a.r frost flashed on every blade of gra.s.s.

The child of the forest, so long shut out from lake, meadow, and field, rejoiced in the freedom of nature. She inhaled long draughts of the pure air; nay, in spite of her impatience, she even turned once and, standing still, gazed out over the shining azure lake and the peaks of the mountains radiant in white and gold.

"I do not know how to call you all by name, ye beloved G.o.ds, who have guided everything so happily for me, aided me upon land and water, and are now shining in the sunlight and the glory of the mountains! And Adalo lives: that is the best, the very best of all that ye have done.

Ye G.o.ds, I do not know you all, but I thank every one of you!"

She stretched her arms toward the sun. Then, that the G.o.ddess of the lake and Donar, the King of the mountains, whose throne was on Sentis, might not be angry, she saluted the water and the mountains, with both hands, raising and lowering them as one waves a greeting to a friend recognized at a distance. Again she ran impatiently up the hill side.

Most of the singing birds had left the lake long before; but one little robin which always remained there all winter recognized the friendly being who often scattered food for it on the snow, and, greeting her with a light chirping, flew a few paces in front of her until she reached the door of the hall.

Within the great central room Adalo lay on the floor upon a pile of soft skins, his head toward the steps of the master's lofty seat, his feet toward the entrance. His head rested in the lap of gray-haired Waldrun; his eyes were closed. At his left lay Zercho, but placed in the opposite direction, with his head toward the door and a huge goblet of mead beside him. At his right stood Sippilo, gazing down anxiously at his brother's face. Beside the wounded man was Bruna, the she-bear, growling softly as she licked his hand. She was the first to move, raising her head as light footsteps were heard on the sand outside the door.

The blind woman said, in a low tone that the wounded man might not hear: "That is Bissula's tread."

The girl appeared in the doorway. Sippilo started, Zercho raised his head, but she motioned to them all to keep silence, and noiselessly advancing with bare feet to Adalo's couch, she laid her little hand on his head.

"Bissula?" asked the Adeling.

She bent over him, her red locks falling on his pale face.

"Is it you, little one? No, no! The fairest of the Valkyrias has come to bear me upward--do you see her swan wings?--up to Valhalla's shining heights." Bissula's white robe was floating around her shoulders.