"Yes; for since Suomar, my son, cannot be reached, it is you, Adalo, of all the men of our people, our kind neighbor, the playfellow of her childhood, to whom I must lament. The dear one is a captive: help--rescue--liberate her."

The youth pa.s.sed his hand sadly over his beautifully arched eyebrows.

"Yes," he thought, with bitter grief, "a captive through the fault of her own defiance and obstinacy." But he said nothing, only thinking: "It will be a difficult task. If it depended upon me--from the moment I heard it I would have stormed the Idisenhang so constantly and fiercely that the Italians would have had neither inclination nor leisure to torment the child. Or to win her," he added bitterly. "But the army is under the sole command of my cousin Hariowald, the Duke. I cannot--"

Here a low growl interrupted him: he turned and saw a singular spectacle.

CHAPTER XVIII.

A handsome boy about fourteen, whose strong resemblance to Adalo marked him as his brother--only his curling locks were light yellow, almost white--was dragging by the ear a huge she-bear, which, growling, struggling, but yielding, allowed herself to be drawn nearer and nearer to the fire.

"Down, Bruna!" cried the lad, forcing the huge animal to lie prostrate.

"You dearly loved the merry, dancing girl too. Look, you growling brown giantess, that's only the grandmother, and Zercho, who always brought you so much wild-honey from the bee-wood. But _she_ is missing; our Bissula is gone. Ah, if you had been there, you would have defended her savagely; for you haven't forgotten that she and Adalo saved you, dragged you out of the torrent. When you were scarcely bigger than a kitten the cloud-burst swept you away from your mother, and you cried piteously as you were drowning. And her busy hands fed you even more eagerly than ours, with rich milk, rye bread, and dainty wild berries.

Since you first opened your blinking eyes, which now look as though you knew as much as a human being, you have recognized her as your best friend. Oh, if you had been with her, no one would have dared to seize her. O brother, strong brother, you hero and shield of the whole province, bring her back! Alas, if the little one, with her dainty hands, should be forced to heat the bath-water for the hated foe and wash his feet, as I often saw their maid-servants do in Arbor! Why don't we rush down on the wings of the storm and hew her out of the high-walled camp citadel?"

He swung his little wolf spear: the fire blazed up brightly as he stood in the light of the flames, a handsome boyish figure, in his light-blue linen robe bordered with white swan's down.

"Yes, my Sippilo," said the older brother with ill-repressed sorrow, "you loved her too."

The boy looked up startled, but Adalo continued:

"Yes, yes. Perhaps she is dead--to us, to our people. Perhaps we shall never see her again, never hear her sweet, elfish, mocking laugh."

"Oh, the smoke! How it stings!" cried the lad, wiping the tears from his eyes.

"Perhaps she went with the Italians willingly," said Adalo, torturing himself savagely--"with the clever Ausonius!"

"Is he here again?" cried Sippilo. "I'll run him through like a fat carp that is sunning itself in shallow water. Oh, I used to wish he might fall under the curse of Odin and the sun. Whenever I went to get frogs for fishing or to play ball, she had always rowed over to him or would not leave the long rolls of runes over which she racked her brains. He had given them to her. If only I could catch him!"

"If we only had her back again! My heart is consumed with anxiety."

"Guard yourself from consuming anxiety, my son," said the old woman in a warning tone. "It will paralyze your thoughts and arm; and you will need both to liberate the naughty child. I am no prophetess, but I have had strange dreams since I grew blind--which often come to pa.s.s: I saw you to-night wounded, severely wounded. Guard your life. If she should be rescued, and no longer find you--"

"Then her vengeful wish would be fulfilled. She hates me. She shouted it loudly enough."

Sippilo laughed. "You? Hate you? She loves you better than a sister. How I always had to tell her about you, everything you were doing,--your prizes of honor in the contests; the gifts of neighboring princes; your last verses; whom they praised! When I met her on the lake quite lately, she asked if Jettaburga and her father did not often visit the Stag Hall. When I said that they no longer came there, for sheer delight she loosed from her own waist the beautiful blue girdle she always wore, and gave it to me. See, there it is. I always carry it hidden in my blouse. And, Bruna, didn't she once kiss you between the eyes, when I told her how you had sprung to Adalo's a.s.sistance in the chase and torn the furious wild bull which was goring his horse? Yes, Bruna, you are faithful to her too. You have trotted after us for hours when we were gathering berries and mushrooms, and watched our noonday nap."

Just at that moment a long-drawn blast of a horn echoed from the summit of the mountain. Adalo started up.

"The Duke is calling. We are to consult about what is to be proposed in the people's council. Zercho, come with me. He wishes to question you about the number of the enemy's mounted men. You, Sippilo, take care of Mother Waldrun; that is all you can do for your Bissula."

"For the present," said the boy looking after his brother. "But I will take part in storming the camp fortress where the scoundrels hold captive the prettiest little bird--little gold-crested wren, no, little redbreast--in the land of the Alemanni." He raised his clenched fist threateningly.

CHAPTER XIX.

Outside of the Duke's tent also a huge fire was blazing, fed by slaves who were roasting on the ends of poles the haunches and back of a freshly killed stag. Adalo pa.s.sed by, motioning to Zercho to wait, parted the sailcloth stretched over the wooden frame of the tent, and entered.

The roof was formed of interwoven pine branches; against the poles of the light timberwork hung and rested everywhere weapons of all kinds.

Skins covered the turf floor which, opposite to the entrance, was raised until it formed a high seat; a curtain of heavy linen hung behind it, dividing from the front of the tent a small s.p.a.ce used for a sleeping room. In the centre stood an iron tripod, running to a point at the top, into which was screwed a burning pine-torch that diffused a dim, flickering red light.

On the fur-covered high seat, with his back resting against the main column of the tent, sat Duke Hariowald. He greeted his young kinsman only by a glance and seemed to heed nothing except the eager words of another guest, a man about forty years old, who, clad in a boarskin and wearing on his head a "boar helm" with the animal's tusks, sat at his right.

The old Duke, a giant in height, towering nearly a head above Adalo's tall figure, was a man of singular appearance. The immense framework of his body appeared to belong to a much older race of men. His deep-set gray eye--the left one had been destroyed by a stone from a Balearican sling long before, and the empty socket had a sinister expression--was under a bushy, prominent arched brow; its fire was by no means dimmed, but curbed by the long habit of self-control. This ever perceptible rule of pa.s.sions blazing fiercely in his breast gave the mighty man, who in spite of his sixty-five winters could not be called old, an air of mysterious majesty. His people looked up to him with reverence, with timid expectation, nay, with a slight fear of what he was planning in rigid secrecy. His eagle eye was inscrutable when he half closed it; when open, the flash that blazed from it was fairly blinding. The expression of the mouth was concealed by the magnificent silvery-white beard, sweeping over the breast-plate to the bronze belt, which framed the cheeks and mingled with the thick locks of hair of the same hue.

Like the eye, the strong, deep, resonant voice revealed, no matter how quietly the mighty man spoke, the sense of power held in check. He rarely moved his muscular limbs, and all his gestures had a calmness which was the result of long training. So he sat without a helmet, with his ample blue cloak floating from his shoulders, his bearing one of dignified composure. The majestic beauty of his finely formed head was plainly visible as he rested it against the tent-pole, listening intently. An immense spear rested in the curve of his right arm, its bra.s.s top rising above his shoulder, as the end touched the floor; he often stroked with a gentle, almost loving touch of the hand the runes of victory inscribed on the back of the ash handle.

"I am usually glad to greet you, son of Adalger," said the Duke's other guest, with a frowning brow, "but now I am most unwilling. I pleaded for peace--" The Duke remained silent. "Now you come and you--I know it--dream of nothing day and night save war with Rome."

Adalo measured him with a wrathful glance. "The ancient foe of our people is in the country, and a king of the Alemanni counsels peace?

Ebarbold, son of Ebur, fear was alien to your kinsmen--"

The other laid his hand on the curved knife in his belt. Adalo did not see it: he was under the spell of Hariowald's eye. A warning glance from the old man, and the youth hastily added, "and is unknown to you, hero of the wild-boar's courage."

The guest loosened his grip of the dagger and leaned back proudly.

"But Roman gold does not ensnare you," Adalo continued; "so some magic blinds you."

"Or _you_ and all our crazy youths. The red drink of Zio, the war-G.o.d, has intoxicated you. Or," he added in a lower, almost timid tone, "He, Odin the Val-father, wishes again to people his Valhalla with slaughtered heroes."

A change of expression flashed over the Duke's face. He gently raised his spear and, unheard by the others, murmured, "Mighty Odin, do not avenge the words." But Ebarbold went on:

"No matter about the boys! Their only art is war, and they have little sense; but that you, who have seen sixty winters and almost as many victories of the men with the high helmets--that you too should desire war! My friends, I went to Rome; I climbed to the citadel on the towering rock. It glitters with gold and marble. I served in the great Valentinian's army. I have seen for years the countless thousands of Roman warriors with their finest weapons, against which ours are like children's toys."

The Duke, unnoticed, pressed his spear closer to his breast.

"And the military engines, the huge galleys with three banks of oars one above another, the treasures of coined and uncoined gold and silver! The whole extent of the land, all Mittelgard, as far as men live--white, brown, and black--I've seen them painted on a long, long strip of hide. The rising and the setting of the sun serve Rome. In his golden house on one of the seven hills of the Tiber the Imperator has placed a gold ball: all the provinces are copied on it. It is the work of a magician. If a foe crosses the boundary in the farthest north or south, the gold ball echoes and trembles in that spot; the Imperator hears it, looks, and sends the legions. We will not defy him. The Caesar is a G.o.d on earth."

"Do not hear it. Mighty One!" the old Duke murmured, stroking the runes on his spear soothingly.

Adalo was about to make a vehement reply, but he involuntarily looked at the silent man, and controlled himself.

"We have learned that long enough, I think," Ebarbold continued; "from generation to generation, when each province still fought independently, long before this name and league of the Alemanni were heard and invented!"

"You don't like this league?" the Duke now asked suddenly.

The King started. The voice, hitherto mute, sounded so loud and powerful. Glancing up timidly, he shrugged his shoulders: "Whether I like it or not, I can no longer dissolve it."

"No, you cannot," said Hariowald very calmly, stroking his long beard; but his gray eye darted a glance which boded evil.

"You don't like the _name_ of Alemanni either?" asked Adalo indignantly.

"No, Adeling. 'All men together!' Ha, our forefathers prided themselves on standing alone, province by province; nay, in the old days family by family, not leaning on others, and also not bound by them, not subject to the will of the majority."

"Yes, that's it!" said the old Duke with a fierce smile. "You were in the citadel of Rome--so was I. But I perceived with my one eye what you have not seen. You noticed the glittering l.u.s.tre of their magnificence; it dazzled you: I saw through the glitter to the decay, the decline beneath. And one thing more," he added mysteriously, lowering his voice--"for several generations they have had no more luck with their own G.o.ds--with the new ones, I mean. Ay, the old one whom they formerly had--" he now spoke with a certain timidity, even reverence--"I mean the one with the thunderbolts and the eagle--he was a G.o.d of battles, almost like our own. Often his eagle on their shields seemed to me to flap its wings, and the lightning to glow redly. Often and often have I seen them conquer under that handsome bearded G.o.d and his sons. Mars and Hercules. But now they have chosen for their G.o.d a youth, gentle and n.o.bly wise, but no warrior. His own priests say he never held a sword in his hand. He did not descend from a line of G.o.ds; he was the son of a laborer. And this man--a carpenter--belonged to a race long in bondage to Rome, a people many of whom have wandered to us with packs on their bent backs, mere traders in spices. Not many of them are seen in the ranks of the legions. Since the Romans chose for their G.o.d that gentle teacher who would not even defend his own life, victory has deserted their standards. But what (besides their Jupiter in the clouds) formerly secured to them for centuries conquest on earth I also learned; the G.o.d whom I most honor showed it to me: one will controlled them all. They were already united men--all for one, and one for all, through many hundred winters; while we, according to the wish of your heart, fought province by province, each for himself, and--succ.u.mbed.

This is your freedom--the freedom of discord and consequent destruction!"