The Scarlet Banner Part 25

Hilda pointed silently to the curtains at the door of the adjoining room; her husband nodded. "You will have a visitor presently," he said, raising his voice. "Thrasaric wishes to speak to you. He has all sorts of important things to say."

"He will be welcome."

"Have you finished the banner?"

"Oh, yes."

Seizing the pole, she raised the heavy standard aloft; the scarlet cloth, more than five feet long and two and a half feet wide, flowed in long heavy folds around the two slender figures. It was a beautiful, solemn sight.

Gibamund took the banner from her. "I will place it on the battlements of the loftiest tower, that it may wave a b.l.o.o.d.y welcome to our foes.

Oh, thou choicest jewel, s.h.i.+eld of the Vandal fame, Genseric's victorious standard, never shalt thou fall into the hands of the foe so long as I draw breath!" he cried enthusiastically. "I swear it by the head of the beloved wife over which thy folds are floating."

"Neither your eyes nor mine shall ever witness that. I, too, swear it,"

said Hilda, with deep earnestness, and a slight s.h.i.+ver ran through her limbs as a gust of wind blew the scarlet cloth closely around her shoulders and breast.

Gibamund kissed the fair brow and the beautiful eyes which were lifted with a radiant light to his own, and hurried out of the room with the banner. On the threshold he met Thrasaric. Hilda sat down again beside the window.

"Welcome, Thrasaric!" she said loudly, as the curtain in the doorway of the adjoining room waved to and fro. "I commend you. In full armor! It suits you better than--other costumes. I hear that you have been made commander of many thousand men. You are to fill Zazo's place until his return. What brings you to me?"

These friendly words evidently soothed the embarra.s.sment of the giant, whose face had crimsoned when he entered the apartment. He cast a searching glance around the room, hoping to discover some trace--some article of clothing; but he did not find it. His whole soul was burning with the desire to speak of Eugenia, to ask about her, to learn her feelings. Yet he so feared to approach the subject. He did not know whether his bride had told her friend of his heavy, heavy sin. He feared it. Surely it was probable that the Princess had asked the girl the cause of her terror; and why should Eugenia keep silence? Why should she spare him? Had he deserved it? Had not the indignant girl, with the utmost justice, cast him off forever? All these questions, over which he had been pondering, now pressed at once on his bewildered brain. He was so bitterly ashamed of himself, he would rather have marched alone to meet Belisarius's entire army than talk now with this n.o.ble woman; yet he had boldly encountered harder things. As he made no reply, but merely stood with laboring breath, Hilda repeated the question,--

"What brings you to me, Thrasaric?"

He must answer--he saw that. So he replied, but Hilda was almost startled when he cried loudly, "A horse."

"A horse?" asked the Princess, slowly. "What am I to do with it?"

Thrasaric was glad to be able to speak, and at some length, of subjects not connected with Eugenia. So he now answered, quickly and easily: "To ride it."

"Yes," laughed Hilda, "I suppose so! But to whom does the horse belong?"

"To you. I give it to you. Gibamund has permitted it. He commands you to accept it from me. Do you hear? He commands."

"Well, well! I haven't refused yet. So I thank you cordially. What kind of horse is it?"

"The best one on earth."

The answers now came with the speed of lightning.

"Gibamund and my brother-in-law said that of Cabaon's stallion."

"It is the very horse."

"That belongs to Modigisel."

"Not now."

"Why?"

"Oh, for many reasons. In the first place, it is now yours. Secondly, the animal lately ran away from Modigisel at night, was carried off.

Thirdly, Modigisel is dead. And, fourthly, the stallion belongs to me."

These replies had come almost too rapidly. Hilda gazed at him without understanding.

"Modigisel dead? Incredible!"

"But it is true. And really--except for himself--no great misfortune. A short time ago, at night, I helped a young Moorish prisoner to escape.

I could not foresee that he would use the horse in doing so. But afterwards I rejoiced over it, very, very deeply. Early this morning, a Moor, not the fugitive, brought the stallion into my courtyard. The lad I had saved was Sersaon, Cabaon's famous grandson. Cabaon, in his grat.i.tude, sent me the magnificent horse."

"But must not you return him to Modigisel?"

"Perhaps so. On no account--never, never--would I have kept the animal.

I would rather have the devil in my stable; I would rather ride the steed of h.e.l.l!"

"Why?"

"Why? Why? You ask why?" cried Thrasaric, joyously. "Then you do not know?"

"If I knew, I would not ask," said Hilda, calmly.

But she was startled by the effect of these words; the gigantic man threw himself on his knees before her, pressing her hands till she could almost have screamed with pain, as he cried: "That is glorious, that is divine!" But the next instant he sprang up again, saying mournfully, "Alas! This is even worse. Now I must tell her myself.

Forgive me. No, I am not mad. Just wait. It is coming.--So I ordered the horse to be led at once to Modigisel. The slave returned immediately with the message that Modigisel was dead."

"Then it is true? The day before yesterday in perfect health! How is it possible?"

"Astarte, of course. You know nothing about such creatures. His freedwoman and friend; she lived in the next house. It is very strange.

The slaves say that after--after returning from the Grove of the Holy Virgin," he stammered the words with downcast eyes, "Modigisel and Astarte had a violent quarrel. That is, she did not make an outcry--she said very little; but she demanded for the thousandth time her complete freedom. Modigisel had reserved numerous rights. He refused, shouted, and raged; he is said to have beaten her. But yesterday they made friends again. Astarte and the Gundings dined with him. After the banquet they strolled about the garden. Before their eyes Astarte broke four peaches from a tree. She and the two Gundings ate three of them; Modigisel the fourth. And, after eating it, he dropped dead at Astarte's feet."

"Horrible! Poison?"

"Who dares to say so? The peach grew on the same tree with the others.

The Gundings bear witness to it; they do not lie. And the Carthaginian is impenetrably calm, even now."

"You have seen her, have talked with her?"

The powerful warrior flushed crimson: "She came to my house at once, from the dead man. But I--well--she went away again very soon. She was hastening to take possession of the villa at Decimum, which Modigisel bequeathed to her long ago."

"What a woman!"

"Nay, no woman,--a monster, but a beautiful one. So the horse remained in my possession. But I--will not keep the animal. Then I thought that of all the women of our nation you are the most glorious--I mean, the best rider. And I believe war will soon break out, and, from what I know of you, I believe that nothing will prevent you from going with Gibamund to the field."

"There you are right," laughed Hilda, with sparkling eyes.

"Then I begged Gibamund--and so the stallion is yours, do you see? He is just being led into the courtyard."

"A magnificent creature indeed! I thank you."

"So that is the story of the horse."