Felicitas Part 12

"This sword," said Severus, and he thrust into his heart the conquering sword of the Emperor Probus.

The giant drew it out and a stream of blood rushed forth.

"Ah!" said the Bajuvaren. "The old man is dead. It would be a pity,"

continued he slowly, looking at the sword, "if this good blade were lost. Come, brave weapon; serve henceforth the new lord of the land.

But now must I thank Liuthari; everything hit together admirably. Yes; these Alemanni! They are almost wiser than we! Hojo, Sigo, Heilo!"

cried he, holding his two hands hollowed before his mouth. "Liuthari!

beloved, where tarriest thou? Garibrand calls, the Bajuvaren duke.

Hojoho! Sigo! Heiloho! Now let us share the booty and the land!"

Liuthari galloped forward and offered his hand to the duke. "Welcome in our new home! Welcome in victory!" cried he, with a joyous voice.

But then sounded from the town fresh noise of arms and tumult of battle.

"The victory is not yet complete," said Garibrand, pointing with his axe to the Capitol.

There was now heard, through the battle-cries of the Bajuvaren in the town, the clear warlike call of the tuba. "That is the Roman general and his host!" cried the duke. "He is coming from the fortress down into the town on my men! Quick! bring me another horse! Into the town!

To the help of my heroes!"

CHAPTER XI.

With the exception of the two leaders, very few Romans had fallen in the short hand-to-hand combat; for the Bajuvaren duke had before the attack given the order: "To-day--prisoners! No slain! Consider, ye men; every man slain is a loss, every prisoner a servant gained for the new masters of the land!"

Fulvius and Crispus had been among the troops turned by Severus against the Bajuvaren. When their ranks were broken, the nephew cried to the uncle: "To Felicitas! Through the ford!" and as they had stood together, so they now ran together towards the river below the bridge, for that was held by the enemy.

But the stout Crispus, although he had quickly thrown away spear and s.h.i.+eld, was soon left far behind the agile stone-mason.

An Alemannian horseman, with a youth running at his side, followed both.

Crispus was soon overtaken.

His ridiculous appearance challenged the rider to give him a blow on the ca.s.serole covering his head in the place of a helmet, it fell over his eyes and nose, from which poured a stream of blood, he gave a loud cry and fell to the ground; he thought he was dead.

But he soon came back to the agreeable certainty of life, when the foot-soldier, who had remained by him, roughly tore the ca.s.serole from his head. Crispus sprang up, gasping for breath, the German laughed in his big, fat, highly-astonished face.

"Ha! this Roman hero has had good provender. And this nose is not red with its own blood or with water either. Ho, friend, I will set thee free, if thou wilt reveal to me where in Juvavum the best wine can be got. It seems to me thou art the man to know it."

Crispus, so pleasantly spoken to, recovered himself quickly, now that he was quite convinced that he was not dead, and would not have to die for the fatherland.

He drew a deep breath and spoke, raising his hand as an oath:

"I swear as a Roman burgher, Jaffa, the good Jew, near the Basilica, has the sweetest. He is not baptized--but neither is his Falernian.

"Excellent!" cried the Alemannian. "Come, ye friends!"--a whole crowd of Alemanni and Bajuvaren were shaking hands close about him--"to Jaffa the Jew, to drink our grat.i.tude to the G.o.d Ziu for our pleasant victory! Thou, fat fellow, lead on, and if, contrary to thine oath, it is sour, this Jew's wine, we will drown thee therein."

But Crispus was not alarmed; he rejoiced, on the contrary, that he would now be able to drink gratis, as much as he wished, of the choicest long-stored Cyprus wine, which hitherto had been quite beyond his means. That it was to be drunk to the honour of the G.o.d Ziu did not make the wine worse. "And," said he to himself, "it is at all events better pleasing to G.o.d that we empty the Jew's wine-skins than those of a good Christian."

He did not trouble about his house. "They will not interfere with my old Ancilla; her wrinkles will protect her better than many s.h.i.+elds.

The bit of money is buried; they will not carry away the plaster statues, they will only cut off their noses with great zeal and an incomprehensible liking for the business: it does not matter, one can stick them on again," But he was anxious about Fulvius, about Felicitas.

He looked about for the fugitive, but could not see him either lying dead, or brought in a prisoner; he seemed to be swallowed up by the earth: the rider who had pursued him had turned his horse in another direction, and was pursuing other flying Romans. Crispus hoped that the young husband had escaped. He (Crispus) was quite unable to help Felicitas, for his conqueror held him firmly by the shoulder and pushed him towards the bridge.

"Forward! Thou canst not imagine, Roman, how Alemannian thirst burns.

And near the Basilica, sayest thou? That is right! There we shall find, besides, gold and silver cups for the liquor."

And in front of the whole noisy, laughing, shouting swarm, the fat Crispus, an involuntary pot-companion, stumped along as fast as his short legs could carry him, towards the gate through which he had shortly before marched, a proud helmeted legionary. He had left the ca.s.serole where it fell, but he was still reminded of it by the smarting of his nose.

In the meantime Fulvius had actually disappeared. He had not thrown away s.h.i.+eld and spear, like his corpulent companion; he was young, strong, he had no fear, and he thought of the promise which he had given at his release to the gallant Severus. He had now reached the river and stood firmly on the marshy bank. He heard the hoof-strokes of the galloping horse coming nearer and nearer, and he resolutely turned, looked at the enemy fiercely, raised his spear, took good aim and threw it with all the strength of his arm against the face of the German.

"Well aimed!" cried he, as he dropped the reins, and with his left hand caught the whizzing spear.

The s.h.i.+eld of Fulvius would now have availed him little, for the galloping horseman aimed at the same time with both spears, his own and the one he had caught, at the Roman's head and abdomen. But before the deadly lances reached him, Fulvius had suddenly disappeared; in stepping backwards from the snorting horse, that must the next instant have prostrated him, he lost his balance, slipped on the smooth gra.s.s, and fell backwards into the stream, the waters of which, das.h.i.+ng up, closed over him. The Alemannian bent down from his steed and looked after him laughing as he was carried away.

"Greet the Danube for me" cried he, "when thou hast reached it;" then turned his horse and galloped across the fields.

CHAPTER XII.

Zeno hastily pursuing his way, had reached the corner of the narrow street.

Loud cries sounded behind him; he looked round; the flames broke crackling through the roof of a house close by; it was that of the Judge, his son-in-law. Full of fresh anxiety he hurried forwards.

After a few steps he came to the door of the priest's small house, which stood open.

He sprang across the threshold, flew along the narrow, imperfectly-lighted pa.s.sage. No Ostiarius, no sub-deacon showed himself. He hurried into the priest's room, the same into which we have already been.

It was empty.

The door which led into the adjoining church was ajar.

The fugitive entered and hastened across the dimly-lighted s.p.a.ce to the altar, which, dividing apse and nave, furnished the most sacred asylum in the church. Here on the steps lay Johannes, stretched out motionless, with both arms clasping the relic-shrine on the altar.

In his anguish new horror seized the hard Byzantian.

Was he murdered?--He, who might perhaps have been able to protect him?

"Woe is me!" groaned he.

His horror increased when he, who lay as dead, slowly raised himself and silently turned his pale, venerable face.

"Ha! do the dead rise again?" cried Zeno, shrinking back.