"My master, Mucius the Judge, sends you this writing. Zeno and thou, you are accused before him, by Johannes the priest, of having scourged the Syrian woman, so that the unborn child died. He says he can this time only with difficulty acquit you."

The writing was long; while Calvus read it with a knitted brow, the lame man glided silently to his brother and pressed a file into his hand; it was wrapped in a strip of papyrus. Keix read: "After the mid-day meal." With his chained hand he lifted the small strip to his mouth and swallowed it.

The lame man stood again behind Calvus. "What answer, sir?"

Highly displeased, Calvus gave him back the indictment. "May Orkus swallow up this priest! He knows everything that does not concern him.

I must myself speak with thy master. Go on! Thou limpest horribly, Kottys," laughed he. "But the expedient has been successful. We sold thee to the Judge as incorrigible. But since thy new master has cut thy sinews for thee, thou hast not again attempted to escape, and art become tame, quite tame." They then both left the court.

In an hour Zeno returned from the bath. As he crossed the courtyard, all the slaves, chained and unchained, were sitting at their scanty meal, consisting of small pieces of coa.r.s.e barley-bread, onions, and bad wine, sour as vinegar. He went into his writing-room to his accounts.

There, as was well known, no one dared disturb him.

This room--alone in the house--had instead of curtains a strong wooden door, which could be locked.

The low window looked on a narrow lane, not on the princ.i.p.al street.

He soon noticed an unusual noise, as of the screaming and running of many men in the distance. The door then opened gently. Astonished, displeased at the intrusion, Zeno turned.

He was still more astonished to see old Thrax standing upon the threshold, who shut the door carefully, turned the key, and laid his finger on his lips, warning silence, for his master had angrily given a cry of displeasure.

"Flee, master! Quick! Through the window! Thou art a dead man if they seize thee."

"Who? Are the barbarians in the town?"

"Thy slaves; they are in revolt; all, in the whole town. They will be here immediately."

Horror seized the Byzantian. He was well aware what vengeance he had heaped up against himself. From the courtyard the wild cry already rang in his ears. He seized a large bag of gold pieces, and a little purse full of precious stones which lay before him on the counter of slate; he had been in the act of counting them. The old man pushed a stool to the window to help him to mount. Zeno started; it was with astonishment that he saw the old man actively engaged about his escape. "Why doest thou this for me?"

The slave answered solemnly: "I do it for the sake of the Saviour; Johannes has taught me that my Lord Christ has said: 'Reward evil with good.'"

"But whither, whither shall I flee?"

"To the church! There is safety. Johannes will protect thee."

"Johannes!"

Zeno wondered if the Tribune had already carried out his b.l.o.o.d.y counsel. His knees shook. He was not able to climb the low breastwork of the window.

Nearer and nearer sounded the uproar.

He heard the voice of Calvus. "Mercy! mercy!" he cried.

Immediately afterwards was heard a heavy fall.

"Alas!" groaned Zeno, now at last lifted up by the slave to the window.

"If they guess my hiding-place!"

"Master, no one knows it but myself, and I"----

"Thou shalt never betray me!" cried the Byzantian, and he seized the dagger in his tunic, thrust it to the haft in the neck of the old man, and swung himself into the street.

CHAPTER X.

Meanwhile the straggle outside the gates was being decided.

The barbarians some eighty hors.e.m.e.n, had several times approached the river, but never within bow-shot; they had also trotted towards the blockaded bridge, but had made no attack on that strong position. The eyes of the people on the ramparts and of the attacking party were directed intently towards this enemy in the _west_.

When the bridge was reached Severus ordered a small opening to be made in the barricade, through which only two men at a time could gain the left bank, and now, as the two last of the long train of burghers pa.s.sed through--the bridge was still occupied by its original garrison--there sounded from the hills of the eastern forest, from the _right_ bank, the piercing cry of the black eagle.

Cornelius quickly turned and looked towards the east. "Heardest thou the cry of the eagle?"

Severus nodded. "A good omen for Roman warriors! Seest thou how our golden eagle on the standard seems to raise its wings?"

But Cornelius did not look at the standard-bearer; he looked only towards the eastern forest. "A column of smoke rises up from the chamois rock."

"A charcoal-burner! Turn thy face! In the _west_ stands the enemy.

Lower the spears! Forward!"

In two extended lines near each other, each three men deep, they now advanced towards the agile hors.e.m.e.n, who had quickly ridden back from the river as this ma.s.s of footmen pa.s.sed over; they had halted half-way between the stream and the western forest, and had formed in two parallel lines. Only a spear's throw separated the enemies.

Then as Severus and Cornelius, slowly advancing their columns, were just going to raise their spears, two Germans rode slowly towards them, ceremoniously turning the points of their lances downwards.

"Halt!" cried Severus to his troops. "They wish to parley. Let us listen to them!"

The two hors.e.m.e.n came now quite close to Severus and Cornelius. The combatants on each side stood back in anxious expectation.

One of the two Germans, a youthful, towering, splendid figure, on a milk-white steed, was by the ornaments and splendour of his arms characterised as a leader; he might be more than ten years younger than Cornelius, who noticed with envy the muscular strength of the naked right arm of the young barbarian, adorned and at the same time strengthened by broad golden armlets; the left arm was covered by a small round shield, painted red, embellished in the centre with a spokeless wheel, a Rune or a picture of the sun. His breast was protected by splendidly-worked armour--ah! with feelings of anger Severus recognised, by the badges of honour appended thereto, that it had been the panoply of a distinguished Roman officer, a legate or _magister militum_;--he wore short leather breeches; from the ankle upwards the calf of the leg was bound round with neat leather straps; the left only of the two closely-fitting wooden shoes bore a spur; the rider scorned saddle and stirrups; a short double axe was stuck in his girdle, a white woollen mantle, fastened together so that it hindered no movement, hung at his back; it was the hand of the mother--for this youth was certainly yet unwedded--who had worked the handsome, broad, bright red stripe on its border; splendid light golden hair floated on his shoulders in natural curls, and surrounded the dazzlingly beautiful, maidenlike white face; and on the proudly arched Roman helmet, also obtained by plunder, towered, instead of the Latin black horse-tail, the pinion of the gray heron.

The second horseman, a gigantic, gray-haired man of about sixty years, with a gray beard falling low on his breast and waving in the wind, seemed to be the leader o the retinue of his chief. He was simply dressed and armed; the mane and tail of his powerful war-horse, a brown stallion, were prettily interwoven with red and yellow ribbons; on his shoulders he wore the skin of a wolf, whose open jaws yawned at the enemy from the top of his helmet; his shield was painted in red and yellow circles; at his unarmed breast he carried a mighty horn of the bison of the primeval forest.

The commander now raised his lowered spear, threw it into the bridle-hand, and offered the right to Severus, who took it with hesitation, and immediately let it fall.

"First a grasp of the hand," cried the German, with a soft, richly-toned voice, in very good Vulgate Latin--"first a grasp of the hand, then, if you so wish it, a stroke with the sword. I know thee; thou art the brave Severus, formerly the _Magister Militum_. Thou art gallantly continuing the struggle at a lost post, for a lost cause. I pride myself in being the son of the hero Liutbert, king of the Alemanni. My name is Liuthari, and no man has yet conquered me."

Severus frowned darkly. "I have heard of thy father's name, and of thine, you have stormed Augusta Vindelicorum."

"But not retained possession of it," cried the king's son; and his clear gray eyes shone pleasantly. "Who would wish to live in walled graves? Also in your Juvavum we shall not settle."

"That is provided against," muttered Severus.

But Liuthari threw back his locks, laughing.

"Wait a little! But say first, for whom leadest thou these burghers into the field? In whose name dost thou defend Juvavum?"