Crispus came panting. "Oh, sir, it is incredible! But they have actually drunk it all! The prudent Jaffa," whispered he, "has still a very small skin of the very best; but that is for thee alone, because thou hast saved my life." He continued aloud: "There is a large stone jug full of water; if we mix that with the last dregs in the wine-skins there will still be abundance of drink."

But Vestralp raised his spear-shaft and shattered the great jug so that the water ran in a stream. "Let the man be cut off from the race of the Alemanni," cried he, "who at any time mixes water with his wine! That special wine," continued he quietly to Crispus, "the poor Jew himself shall keep. Let him drink it himself, after all his fright."

Then there sounded from outside the call of the great ox-horn. And immediately afterwards the door of the church was thrown open. A gigantic Bajuvaren stood on the threshold, and cried with a loud voice: "You are sitting there and drinking in blissful indolence, as if all was over; and yet the battle is again raging in the streets. The slaves of the Romans! They are burning and destroying, while the town is _ours_! Protect your Juvavum, men of Bajuhemum! So commands Garibrand, the Duke."

In an instant all the Germans had seized their arms, and with the loud cry, "Defend the Juvavum of the Bajuvaren!" they rushed out of the church.

When the last footstep had long died away, the marble slab was carefully raised; the Tribune climbed out. The man so brave, so fond of war, had suffered the bitterest torments of humiliation during this long time. Was he not a Roman, and did he not know his duty? It stung his honour as a soldier that he, blindly following his own pa.s.sions, pursuing only his _own_ object, had made the victory so easy for the barbarians. His looks were sullen; he bit his lips. "My cavalry! the Capitol! Juvavum! vengeance on the priest! victory! all is lost--except Felicitas! I will fetch her; and away, away with her over the Alps!--Where may my Pluto be?"

Leo crept through the priest's house into the narrow street, and carefully sought the shadow of the houses. It was beginning to get dark, so long had the drinking bout above his head detained him a prisoner. Like a slinking beast of prey, stooping at every corner, and with a spring quickly gaining the side of the opposite street, he avoided the large open squares and crowded streets. He then heard, in the distance, the roaring noise of confused voices. He looked back; flames were rising into the heavens, already darkened with smoke.

The Tribune hastened to gain the north side of the ramparts; to find the Porta Vindelica unoccupied he could not hope, even from German recklessness; but he knew the secret mechanism by which, without key, a small sortie-gate could be opened which led into the high road to Vindelicia. This doorway he now endeavoured to reach. Unchallenged, unseen, he mounted the wall, avoiding the steps; opened the door; closed it again carefully; slid down the steep slope, and gained the moat, which, formerly filled with water, had now--the sluices were all destroyed--lain dry for tens of years. Weeds and bushes above a man's height grew therein.

He had hardly reached the bottom of the moat when a loud neighing greeted him out of a willow-plot; his faithful horse trotted towards him, nodding its head.

Two other horses answered out of the bushes.

Immediately afterwards two men crept out of the thicket, crawling along the ground on all-fours. It was Himilco the centurion, and another Moor.

They beckoned to him silently to follow them into the hiding-place.

They had escaped into the moat after the dispersion of their troops by the Bajuvaren. The black steed had followed the two other horses, the man in charge of him having fallen.

Since then they had remained hidden among the thick bushes of the moat.

"The first gleam of light on this black day," said the Tribune. "We three will fly! Come! There to the left the river approaches the moat.

The horses can easily reach it with a leap, and then swim across. I must go to the Mercurius hill, down the Vindelician road; then--over the mountains!"

"Sir," implored Himilco, "wait till night. Twice already have we tried to escape by that way. Each time we were observed by the Alemannian hors.e.m.e.n, who incessantly march before the gates to seize fugitives; each time it was only with the greatest difficulty that we regained our shelter. Only in the darkness of the night can we venture."

The Tribune was reluctantly obliged to acknowledge this counsel as well-grounded. "At night," said he to himself, "I shall be better able to carry off Felicitas." So, impatient enough, he determined to await the darkness in this hiding-place.

CHAPTER XV.

Far away from the hidden fugitives, in the south-east side of the town, strife and tumult were meanwhile raging.

Many of the revolted slaves, after revenging themselves on their masters, had thrown down their arms; but the _wildest_ spirits, restrained by the Germans from further incendiarism, murder, and robbery, and driven by them from street to street, had now crowded together for a last resistance.

Here lay the large imperial magazines for the building of boats and rafts for the traffic of the Ivarus, especially the salt-trade: also immense stores of well-dried wood, sail-cloth, pitch, and tar. These favourites of the fire-G.o.d the mad creatures wished to set on fire.

They hoped, in their blind destructive fury, that the conflagration would from there spread its red and black wings over the whole city.

But the magazines were covered with slates on the flat roofs, were protected by high stone walls, and shut in with strong oak doors; the few guards round about had, certainly, long since fled, but, even undefended, stone and iron-bound wood would for some time resist the fury of the a.s.sailants.

But now came Keix, the leader of the host, from the bath of Amphitrite, close by, which was in flames, swinging in one hand a blue and in the other a green pitch torch, such as were used in the illumination of the ornamental gardens.

"Ha!" cried he; "now see! We will have to-day the richest fire-works!

The Christian emperors have indeed forbidden the Saturnalia, but we will introduce them again, but this time to the honour of Vulcan and Chaos!"

And he propped both torches against the oak panels of the door, which immediately began to smoulder. But now the pursuing Bajuvaren had reached the spot.

The barricades in the streets they had, after a short, wild conflict with their defenders, thrown down; and they now rushed forward in a close wedge with Duke Garibrand at their head.

"We have you, incendiaries! Down with your arms! Extinguish those flames instantly; or, by the spear of Wotan, no man among you shall remain alive."

Instead of answering, Kottys lifted up the heavy iron rod--the long bolt which he had torn from his own slave prison--and screamed:

"Dost thou think we wish to change our masters? We will be free, and masters ourselves. And all shall be destroyed on this whole earthly ball that reminds us of the time of our slavery. Come on, ye barbarians, if you want to fight with desperate men."

And now a furious rage threatened to break forth.

Suddenly a loud, powerful voice cried: "Stop. Peace be with you all!"

Between the combatants stepped the venerable form of Johannes; behind him appeared his ecclesiastical brethren; they, a.s.sisted by some of the burghers of Juvavum, were carrying on barrows and litters, wounded slaves, Moors, Isaurians, and also some Germans.

"Make way for us! Let us take these wounded--they belong to you all who are here fighting--to my church."

The words, the look, had immediately a silencing, an appeasing effect.

At the sign of their Duke, the Bajuvaren lowered their lifted weapons; most of the slaves did the same. Fearlessly Johannes walked into the thickest part of the crowd; all reverently shrunk back. The women--for there were many women amongst the mob--knelt down and kissed the hem of his garment. He stepped straight towards the door which had now caught fire.

Kottys alone tried to turn him away.

"Back, priest!" he cried, and threw the iron bar; and as Johannes quietly walked on, the iron struck him on the shoulder. He sank--his blood flowed on the ground.

"Woe to thee, brother!" cried Keix. "Thou hast murdered the only protector of the poor and miserable--our father's best friend!"

And the wild man knelt by the priest, holding him in his arms.

To do this he was obliged to throw away his weapon, an iron trident, which he had torn from the hand of a Neptune at the fountain. Nearly all his comrades followed this example. Kottys threw the rod on the ground, and entreated:

"Pardon me, Father Johannes!"

The priest raised himself. "Thou hast repented, therefore G.o.d has forgiven thee. Who am I--a sinner--that _I_ should forgive?"

He now stepped unhindered to the door, threw down the torches, picked up one of the broad shields, pressed it with the right hand against the burning door, raised imploringly the left towards heaven, and said:

"Fire! thou also art a creature and a servant of G.o.d the Lord! I command thee--I adjure thee, thou h.e.l.lish demon of flame, retire hence into h.e.l.l."

The fire was then extinguished. Johannes let the shield fall, and turned again to the crowd; his face was radiant with the glory of the deepest conviction.

"A wonder! A miracle of the Lord by the hand of the devout Johannes!"

sounded out from the whole host of slaves. The most defiant now threw away their weapons and sank on their knees, crossing themselves. Among the Germans many also made the sign of the cross and bent the knee; but Keix and Kottys raised their hands towards Johannes as if in worship.

Duke Gariband then advanced to the Presbyter, and spoke slowly:

"Thou hast well done, old man. Here, my hand. But say," continued he, and a sly smile flashed across his lips, "if thou hadst full confidence in the magic of the Runic words that thou didst utter to the fire, why didst thou also use the shield?"