The Scarlet Banner Part 23

True, great weakness, almost faintness, stole over me; but there blended with it something infinitely sweet, inexpressedly happy and full of relief And now, in my feverish illusion, I suddenly beheld alluring visions of deliverance; the terrible thirst which tortured me painted a spring of delicious water gushing from the rocks close beside me. The rescuers, too, were already coming! Not Zazo, not Gibamund; I knew that they had marched against other Moors, far, far westward of my camp. No, it was some one else, whose features I could not see distinctly. He dashed forward on a neighing horse; he slew the lion; he dragged the constantly-increasing weight of my dead horse from my body.

Then I heard only a rushing, ringing noise in my ears, which said: 'Your deliverer is here! Your guardian spirit.' Suddenly the ringing died away, and--it was no fevered dream--I heard in reality behind me, from the direction of our camp, the neighing of a horse. With my last strength I turned my head and saw a few paces behind me a man who had just sprung from his horse. He was standing in a hesitating, doubting att.i.tude, as if reflecting, with his hand clenched on his sword-hilt, gazing at me and the lion."

"He hesitated?" cried Hilda. "He reflected; A Vandal warrior?"

"He was no Vandal."

"A Moor? A foe?"

"It was Verus, the priest."

"'My guardian spirit,' I cried, 'my preserver! G.o.d has sent you. Take my whole life!' Then my senses failed again.

"Verus told me afterwards that he cautiously approached the lion, and, seeing how deeply the weapon had penetrated, he hastily tore the spear from the wound; a tremendous rush of blood followed, and the monster died. Then he dragged me from under the dead horse, lifted me with difficulty on his own, bound me firmly on its back, and carried me slowly to the camp. My soldiers had sought me solely in the path along which they saw me ride out; Verus, who accompanied our army, was the only one who noticed that, after leaving the encampment that morning, I turned eastward. And when I was missed, he searched until he found me."

"Alone?"

"Entirely alone."

"How strange!" said Hilda; "how easily, alone, he might have failed in his purpose!"

"G.o.d enlightened and sent him."

"And did you--did he never tell others?"

Gelimer shook his n.o.ble head gravely. "The miracles of G.o.d are not to be the subject of idle talk. I earnestly besought his forgiveness that, formerly, I had almost distrusted him. He generously pardoned me.

'True, I felt it,' he said. 'It grieved me. Now atone by trusting me fully. For in truth you are right. G.o.d really did send me to you; I _am_ your fate, I am the tool in G.o.d's hand that watches over your life and guides it to its predestined goal. I saw you--as if in a dream, though I was awake--lying helpless in the desert, and a secret voice urged me on, saying: "Seek him. Thou shalt become his fate!" And I could not rest until I had found you.'

"Now I have confided this to you that you may no longer wound me by your doubts. No, Hilda, do not shake your head. No objection; I will suffer none. How your distrust angers me! Has he not saved me a second time? Do you want a third sign from G.o.d, unbeliever? I would not wish to be incensed against you, so I will leave you. It is late. Believe, trust, and keep silence." With a bearing of lofty dignity, he left the room.

Hilda gazed after him thoughtfully. Then she shrugged her shoulders.

"Mere chance," she said, "and superst.i.tion! How can delusion ensnare such a mind?"

"Such danger threatens just such minds. I rejoice that mine is less exalted."

"And that your soul is healthy!" cried Hilda, starting from her reverie with a gesture of relief, and throwing both arms around her beloved husband.

CHAPTER XXIII

Early on the morning of the third day after the meeting in the great hall of the palace, Hilda and her young charge, Eugenia, were sitting together in one of the women's apartments, talking eagerly over the work at which they were industriously toiling.

The narrow but lofty arched window afforded a view of the large square courtyard of the palace. In which there was an active stir of military preparation. In one portion of the wide s.p.a.ce newly arrived Vandal recruits were being divided into bands of tens and hundreds; in another they were discharging arrows and hurling spears at targets made of planks which, in height, width, and general appearance, resembled as closely as possible Byzantine warriors in full defensive armor. A special oval enclosure was reserved for the inspection of horses and camels offered for sale by Moorish traders. The King, Gibamund, and the Gundings went from group to group. Hilda was sitting on a pile of cushions, from which, whenever she looked up, she could see the whole courtyard without the least difficulty. She was working industriously upon a large piece of scarlet woollen cloth which lay spread over the laps of both women. Often the needle fell from her hand, while a radiant glance flashed down at the n.o.ble figure of her slender husband.

If he met it and waved his hand to her,--few of her glances escaped his notice,--a lovely flush of shy, sweet happiness glowed on the young wife's cheeks.

Hilda saw that Eugenia stretched her delicate neck forward several times to obtain a glimpse of the courtyard. But she did not succeed; her seat was too far back from the window; and when at another attempt she perceived that her effort had been noticed, she crimsoned with alarm and shame far more deeply than Hilda had just done from pleasure.

"You have finished the lower hem," said Hilda, kindly. "Push another cushion on the stool. You must sit higher now, on account of the work."

The young Greek eagerly obeyed, and a stolen glance flew swiftly down into the courtyard. But her lashes drooped sorrowfully, and she drew her gold-threaded needle still faster through the red cloth.

"New hundreds will soon arrive," remarked Hilda, "and then other commanders will come into the courtyard."

Eugenia made no reply, but her face brightened.

"You have been so diligent that we shall soon finish," Hilda went on.

"The setting sun will see Genseric's old banner floating again in restored beauty from the palace roof."

"The golden dragon is nearly mended, only one wing and the claws--"

"They probably grew dull during the long years of peace, when the banner lay idle in the a.r.s.enal."

"There were frequent battles with the Moors."

"Yes, but Genseric's old battle-standard was not shaken from its proud dreams on account of those little skirmishes. Only small bodies of mounted troops rode forth, and the majestic signal of war was not unfurled on the palace. But now that the kingdom is threatened, Gelimer has commanded that, according to ancient custom, the great banner should be unfurled on the roof. My Gibamund brought it to me to replace the worn embroidery with fresh gold."

"We should have finished it before, if you had not placed those strange little signs half hidden along the hem--"

"Hush," whispered Hilda, smiling, "he must not know it."

"Who?"

"Why, the pious King. Alas, we shall never understand and agree with each other!"

"Why must he know nothing about it?"

"They are the ancient runes of victory of our people. My ancestor Hildebrand taught them to me. And who can tell whether they may not help?"

As she spoke, she pa.s.sed her hand over her work with a tender, caressing motion, humming softly,--

"Revered and ancient Runes so glorious, Magical symbols Of victory's bliss, Float ye and sway With the fluttering banner High o'er our heads!

Summon the swift, Lovely, and gracious Maids, brave and bold, Hovering swan-like Our heads far above!

Givers of victory, Radiant sisterhood, Fetter the foe, Stay their proud columns, Weaken their sword-strokes, Shiver their spears, Break their firm shields, Shatter their breastplates, Hew off their helmets!-- Unto our warriors Victory send ye; Joyous pursuit, Speeding on swift steeds, Shouting in glee, After the flying Ranks of the vanquished!"

"There! The ancient rune has often helped the Amalungi; why should it not aid the Asdings? Aha! Now let the dragon fly again. He has moulted," she added, laughing merrily; "now his wings have grown new."

Springing to her feet, she raised the long heavy shaft, terminating in a sharp point, to which the square scarlet cloth was fastened with gold-headed nails, and with both hands she waved the banner joyously around her head. It was a beautiful picture: Gibamund and many of the warriors below saw the floating banner and the lovely woman's head surrounded by her flowing golden hair.

"Hail, Hilda, hail!" rose in an echoing shout.

Startled, the young wife sank on her knees to escape their eyes. Yet she had heard _his_ voice, so she smiled, happy in her embarra.s.sment, and charming in her confusion.

Eugenia, doubtless, felt the winsome spell, for, suddenly slipping down beside the Princess, she covered her hands and beautiful round white arms with ardent kisses. "Oh, lady, why are you so glorious? I often look up to you with fear. When your eyes flash so, when, like Pallas Athene, you talk so enthusiastically of battle and heroic deeds, fear or awe steals over me and holds me away from you. Then again, when--as has so often happened during these last few days--I have seen your shy, sweet happiness, your love, your devotion to your husband, then, oh, then--pardon my presumption--I feel as near, as closely akin to you, as--as--"

"As a sister, my Eugenia," said Hilda, clasping the charming creature warmly to her heart. "Believe me, brave, fearless heroism does not exclude the most loyal, the most devoted wifely love. I have often argued that question with the most beautiful woman in the whole world."

"Who is that?" asked Eugenia, doubtfully; for how could any one be fairer than Hilda?

"Mataswintha, granddaughter of the great Theodoric, in the laurel-grown garden at Ravenna. She would have become my friend; but she desired to hear only of love, nothing of heroism and duty to people and kingdom.

She knows only one right, one duty--love. This separated us sharply and rigidly. Yet how touchingly both may be united, a beautiful old legend celebrates. My n.o.ble friend, Teja, once sang it for my grandfather and me to the accompaniment of his harp, in measures so sorrowful and yet so proud--ah, as only Teja can sing. I will translate it into your language. Come, let us mend this corner of the golden hem; meanwhile, I will tell you."