The Scarlet Banner Part 33

That was yesterday; and to-day one of our cruisers brought into the harbor a Vandal galley captured on its way to Sardinia. It bore a messenger from Gelimer with the following letter:

"It was not G.o.da who lured us to Sardinia, but a demon of h.e.l.l in G.o.da's form, whom G.o.d has permitted to destroy us. You did not set forth that we might vanquish Sardinia, but that our foes might conquer Africa. It was the will of Heaven, since G.o.d ordained your voyage. You had scarcely sailed, when Belisarius landed. His army is small, but fortune as well as heroism abandoned our people. The nation has no good-luck, and its King no discernment; even wise plans are ruined by the impetuosity of one or the kind heart of another. Ammata, our darling, has fallen; Thrasaric the faithful has fallen; Gibamund is wounded; our army was defeated at Decimum. Our s.h.i.+p-wharves, our harbors, our armory, our horses, Carthage itself are in the hands of the enemy. But the Vandals whom I still hold together seem to have been stupefied by the first blow; they cannot be roused, though everything is at stake. The short-lived outburst of energy has vanished from nearly all. It is shameful to say, but there is far more capacity for war in the twelve thousand Moorish mercenaries, whom I hired with heavy gold and have a.s.sembled in a strong camp at Bulla, than in our whole intimidated army. Should these men also fail me, the end would soon come. Our sole hope is on you and your return. Let Sardinia and the punishment of the rebellion go; fly hither with the whole fleet. Do not land at Carthage, however, but far to the left, on the boundary between Mauritania and Numidia. Let us avert or bear together the threatening destruction.

GELIMER."

The letters of the brothers cross each other, and both fall into our hands! And now the King will vainly await his fleet in the west. Come, G.o.ddess Tyche, puff out your cheeks, blow upon the sails of the Vandal galleys, and bring them all in safety with the victorious army, Gelimer's last hope, into the harbor of Carthage--to captivity.

The G.o.ddess Tyche, too, is just a woman, like the rest. Suddenly she turns her back upon us--at least a little--and coquets with the fair-haired warriors. I might be inclined to turn again to the holy lamplighter. The "Tyrant" is making progress. How? By his kind heart and friendliness, people say. He is winning the country population,--not the Moors, no,--the Romans, the Catholics. Hear and help, O Saint Cyprian! He is drawing them from us to his side. He maintains strict discipline; but the only time our Huns do not rob, plunder, and steal is when they are standing in rank and file before Belisarius--or when they are asleep; but then they at least dream of pillaging. So the peasants whom we have liberated flee in throngs from their deliverers to the camp of the Barbarian King. They prefer the Vandals to the Huns. They collect together, fall upon our plundering heroes (true, they are largely camp-followers), cut off their pagan, nay, even their Christian heads, and receive in exchange from the "Tyrant" a heretical gold-piece. That alone would not be so bad, but the peasants serve the Vandal as spies, and tell him everything he desires to know, so far as they know it themselves. This kindness of heart is undoubtedly hypocrisy, but it helps,--perhaps more than if it were genuine.

I am really almost sorry for the Sphinx. She was so wonderfully beautiful! Only it is a pity that she did not become an animal instead of a woman. Fara discovered that she also allowed Althias the Thracian and Aigan the Hun to divine the mystery of her nature. At first the three heroes intended to fight to the death for the marvel. But this time the Hun was wiser than either the German or the Thracian. By his suggestion, they fraternally divided the woman into equal portions by strapping her on a board, and, with two blows of an axe, separating her into three parts. Fara received the head, as was fair; he had the best right to it. For when she noticed his distrust, she tried to soothe him by the offer of some fruit which she broke fresh from the tree. But she made a mistake there; Fara, the Herulian and pagan, likes horse-flesh far better than he does peaches. He gave it to her ape. The animal bit it, shook itself, and lay dead. This disturbed the German, and he did not rest until he had solved all the riddles of the many-sided Sphinx, even her natural faithlessness. Then, as I said, they divided the beautiful body into three parts. I advised them to bury the corpse very deep, or at night scorching red flames would burst from her grave.

A little defeat.

Belisarius was complaining he knew too little of the enemy. So he sent one of the best men of his body-guard, Diogenes, towards the southwest to obtain news. He and his men spent the night in a village. The peasants swore that there was not a Vandal within two days' march. Our heroes slept in the best house,--it belonged to the villicus,--in the second story; of course they had first been a long time under the lower story, that is, in the cellar. They posted no sentinels, certainly not; they are the liberators of the peasants. The fact that they had just drunk all the wine contained in all the amphorae in the village, killed the people's cattle, embraced their wives, had nothing to do with the matter. Peasants must expect such things.

Soon they were all snoring, Diogenes in the lead. Night fell. The peasants quickly brought the Vandals,--from the immediate neighborhood,--who surrounded the house. But Saint Cyprian is stronger than the heaviest drunken sleep. He caused a sword to drop on a metal s.h.i.+eld below; it waked--this is a miracle in which I believe, for no mortal could accomplish it--it waked one of the sleepers. Under cover of the darkness most of the men succeeded in escaping; Diogenes came back, too--with three wounds in his face and neck, minus the little finger of his sword-hand, and without a single piece of useful information.

The G.o.ddess Tyche is blowing badly. The Vandal fleet has not yet run into Carthage to its destruction.

The Tyrant seems to have roused his army from its stupor. Our outposts, hors.e.m.e.n whom we send forth around the city, report: "Vast clouds of dust are rising in the southwest, which can be caused only by an approaching army."

No Zazo. Has he, in spite of the capture of that letter, received warning and chosen another landing-place? The Vandals were undoubtedly hidden in that cloud of dust. Our Herulians have captured a few peasants; we have already perceived in this almost liberated Africa that the peasants must be captured by their deliverers, if we wish to get sight of them. They seek refuge with the Barbarians from liberty.

The prisoners say that the King himself is marching against us. He ordered a Vandal n.o.ble who had stolen a colonist's wife to be hanged on the high door of the colonist's house. And this n.o.bleman's s.h.i.+eldbearer, who had taken two of the colonist's geese, to be hanged on the low stable door, beside his master. Strange, is it not? But it pleases the peasants. "Equalizing justice," Aristoteles calls it. This wonderful Vandal hero must surely have studied philosophy, as well as the art of throwing spears.

Belisarius has sent an urgent warning to Constantinople concerning the long-delayed pay of the Huns. They are growing troublesome. It is now six months since we left the city; December has come. Desert storms sweep over Carthage to the leaden-hued sea, which long since lost its beautiful blue. The Huns are threatening to leave the service. They excuse their pillaging on the ground that the citizens of Carthage and the peasants will trust neither them nor the Emperor (in which they are not wrong). We cannot pay with money lying in Constantinople, they say.

To-day a s.h.i.+p arrived from there, but did not bring a single solidus in money. There were, however, thirty tax-collectors, and a command to send the first taxes from the conquered province.

If King Gelimer hangs, we hang too. But we hang Romans, not Vandals.

The resentment against us is no longer confined to the peasants. It is seething in Carthage, under our own eyes. The common people, the tradesmen and the smaller merchants especially, who did not feel the oppression of the Barbarians as heavily as the wealthy Senators, are growing rebellious. A conspiracy has been discovered. Gelimer's army is not far from the western, the Numidian gate. His hors.e.m.e.n range at night as far as the walls of the suburb of Aklas. The Vandals were to be admitted under cover of the darkness through the gaps still remaining in the walls of the lower city. Belisarius ordered two Carthaginian citizens convicted of this agreement, Laurus and Victor, to be hanged on the hill outside of the Numidian gate. Belisarius likes hills for his gallows. Then the General's administration of justice can be seen for a long distance swaying in the wind. But Belisarius does not dare to leave the city with the army while the Carthaginians are in such a mood. At least the walls must first be repaired. The citizens are now compelled to work on them at night too; it is making them very discontented.

No Zazo! and the Huns are on the brink of open mutiny. They declare that they will not fight in the next battle; that they have had no pay yet, and that they have been lured here across the sea, contrary to the agreement for military service. They are afraid that, after the defeat of the Vandals, they will be left here to do garrison duty, and never be taken home. Belisarius has already looked for a more s.p.a.cious hill, but has not found one that would be large enough. There are too many of them. And the rest of us are, on the whole, too few. Besides, they are among our best troops. So the General invited their leaders (the order to hang them was written yesterday) to dine with him to-day. This is the greatest honor and pleasure to them; unfortunately it is much less pleasant to the regular guests of Belisarius. He praised them, and offered them wine. Soon all were drunk and perfectly content.

They have slept off their carouse, and now are more dissatisfied than ever,--thirstier too. We have an ample supply of wine, but, during the last three hours, no water. The Vandals have cut the magnificent aqueduct outside the Numidian gate. The Huns can do without it, easily; but not we, the horses, the camels, and the Carthaginians. So the King will thus force a decisive battle in the field. He cannot surround the city, as we control the sea. He cannot storm it, since at last the fortifications are completed according to Belisarius's plan. He desires, he seeks a battle in the open field. His confidence, or that of his "stupefied army," must have returned mightily since that sorrowful letter.

Belisarius has no choice; he will lead us out early to-morrow morning to meet the foe. He is anxious lest the Huns may secretly harbor some evil design, and has charged Fara to keep a sharp watch upon them. If the battle should waver, the Huns will waver too. Then we shall see in the van a conflict between Byzantines and Vandals, and in the rear a struggle between Herulians and Huns. That may become exciting. But this very suspense, this charm of danger, attracted me to Belisarius's service, drew me to his camp. Better a Vandal arrow in my brain than the philosophy over which I had studied myself ill.--To-morrow!

CHAPTER XI

The following day, after again inspecting the restored fortifications of Carthage, and finding them sufficiently strong to receive, in case of necessity, his defeated army and defy a siege, Belisarius sent all the cavalry, except five hundred picked Illyrians, out of the gates to meet the foe. To Althias the Thracian he a.s.signed the chosen body of s.h.i.+eld-bearers with the imperial banner. They were not to shun, but rather invite a skirmish with the outposts. He himself was to follow the next day with the main body of the infantry and the five hundred Illyrian hors.e.m.e.n. Only the few soldiers absolutely required to guard the gates, towers, and walls remained in the city.

At Trikameron, about seventeen Roman miles--seventeen thousand paces--west of Carthage, Althias met the foe.

The front ranks of both troops exchanged a few arrow-shots, and returned to their armies with the report. The Byzantines pitched their camp where they stood. Not far from them blazed the numerous watch-fires of the Vandals. A narrow brook ran between the two positions. The whole region was flat and treeless, with the exception of one hill of moderate size that rose from the sandy soil very near the stream on the left wing of the Romans.

Without waiting for Althias's command or permission, Aigan, the princ.i.p.al leader of the Huns, dashed up the hill as soon as he heard that the men were to encamp here to-day and fight on the morrow. The other leaders and their bands darted after him with the speed of an arrow. He sent a message to Althias that the Huns would spend the night on the hill, and take their position the next day. Althias avoided forbidding what he could not prevent without bloodshed. But the hill dominated the surrounding neighborhood.

At a late hour of the night, the chieftains of the Huns met on the top of the hill.

"Is there no spy near?" asked Aigan. "This Herulian Prince never leaves us."

"My lord, I obeyed your commands. Seventy Huns are lying on guard in a circle around our station; not a bird can fly over them unnoticed."

"What shall we do to-morrow?" asked a third, leaning against his horse's shoulder and patting its s.h.a.ggy mane. "I no longer trust the word of Belisarius. He is deceiving us."

"Belisarius is not deceiving us. His master is deluding _him_."

"I saw a strange sign," the second leader began anxiously. "Just as darkness closed in, little blue flames danced upon the points of the Romans' spears. What does that mean?"

"It means victory," cried the third, greatly excited. "There is a tradition in our tribe, my great-grandfather saw it himself, and it was transmitted from generation to generation, before the terrible day in Gaul when the scourge of the great Attila broke."

"Atta in the clouds, great Atta, be gracious to us," murmured all three, bowing low toward the east.

"My ancestor was on guard duty one dark night beside a rus.h.i.+ng stream.

On the opposite sh.o.r.e two men, with spears on their shoulders, were riding to examine the neighborhood. My great-grandfather and his companions slipped among the tall rushes and bent their bows, which never failed. They took aim. 'Look, aetius,' cried one, 'your spear is s.h.i.+ning.' 'And yours too, King of the Visigoths,' replied the other.

Our ancestors looked up, and, in truth, blue flames were dancing around the spears of the enemy. Our people fled in terror, not daring to shoot those whom the G.o.ds protected. And the day after Atta--"

"Atta, Atta, be not angry with us!" they again whispered, gazing in terror up at the clouds.

"What then meant victory to the Germans and misfortune to their foes,"

replied Aigan, distrustfully, "may have the same meaning now. We will wait. Wherever victory turns, we will turn too; that is why I chose this hill for our station. From here we can see clearly the whole course of the battle. Either straight across the brook on the Vandals'

left flank--"

"Or to the right on the Romans' centre--like a whirlwind!"

"I would rather plunder the Vandals' camp. It is said to be very rich in yellow gold."

"And in white-bosomed women."

"But all Carthage has more gold than the Vandal Prince in his tent."