"But," continued Severus, "I would rather see thy slim nephew, the stone-mason. Why does he deny his arm to the Fatherland? Always with his young wife? Where is he?"

"Here he is!" cried an entreating voice high above their heads.

Crispus had not had time to answer--had only pointed towards the tower at the gate; and behind the barred window of the second story, Fulvius was to be seen eagerly stretching forth both hands.

"Let me out, O general! Help me down, and with the spear I will thank thee!"

"Severus," said Crispus eagerly to the astonished general, "order the gaoler--there he stands, in the doorway--to release him; Zeno the usurer has caused him to be imprisoned."

"Bring the man out, Carcerarius!" commanded Severus. "I need such a strong youthful arm. Let him pay first his debt to the Fatherland.

Should he fall, he will be free from every debt; should he survive, he will return to the tower."

The gaoler hesitated; but a blow in the ribs which Cornelius impatiently dealt him altered his opinion.

"I yield to force!" cried he, rubbing the a.s.saulted spot.

"What an iron, strictly obedient Roman soul!" exclaimed Cornelius.

Immediately afterwards Fulvius sprang over the threshold, seized the shield and spear which were brought to him from the store of arms on the ramparts, and cried:

"Out! out before the gate!"

Well pleased, the eye of the general rested on him.

"I praise such zeal! Thou longest for the battle?"

"Ah, no, sir," answered the young man ingenuously, "only for Felicitas."

While Severus turned away vexed, Crispus comforted his nephew.

"I have been watching thy house from the wall. Compose thyself, no barbarian has yet crossed the river."

"And the Tribune?" whispered the young husband.

"Has not yet left the Capitol"

"And Zeno?"

"Is fully occupied in bringing his treasures into the town and hiding them."

Then the tuba-blowers returned from their rounds the last citizens from the most distant houses arrived.

Severus and Cornelius drew them up in two companies, each of about three hundred men. Then the old hero stood before them and said:

"Romans! Men of Juvavum! Follow me! Out before the gate, and woe to the barbarians!"

He expected loud applause, but all were silent.

One man alone stepped from the ranks, and said anxiously:

"May I ask a question?"

"Ask!" answered Severus, displeased.

"How many barbarians may there be out there?"

"Hardly one hundred."

"And we are six hundred!" said this bold one, smiling comfortably and turning to his fellow-citizens. "To the gate!" cried he suddenly, striking his sword on the shield. "To the gate! And woe to the barbarians!"

"Woe to the barbarians!" cried now the whole troop.

The gate was drawn up, and over the drawbridge, which at the same time fell across the moat, the men hastened out of the town.

Very few guards were left on the walls. Women and children now hurried from their houses, mounted the ramparts, and looked after their dear ones, who at a quick march were advancing towards the bridge below the town, the west end of which, as we have seen, had been in the morning barricaded and occupied by a small troop.

CHAPTER VIII.

At mid-day, when the Alemannian hors.e.m.e.n had first become visible, Leo the Tribune was lying in his richly-furnished chamber in the high tower of the Capitol, on a soft couch over which was spread a lion's skin. He felt in his best mood.

His knee pained and hindered him no longer.

He comfortably stroked the rich black beard which encircled a face--bronze-brown, small, originally n.o.bly formed, but long since become terrible by pa.s.sions.

Before him, on a table of citron-wood, there stood, half-emptied, a large jug of fiery Siculer wine, and a silver drinking-cup.

Two Greek slaves, father and son, were in attendance on him.

The elder slave, raising his finger in warning, brought the mixing-cup.

But, laughing, his master put it aside. "North of the Alps," said he, "nature herself mixes too much coldness in our blood; we do not need to dilute the wine. Is it not so, my demure Antinous? There, drink!" And he offered the cup to a third servant, a handsome boy of some fifteen years, who was crouching on the ground in the extreme corner of the room, as far as possible from Leo, and turning his back to his master.

He wore only a purple petticoat round his loins. His other garments the Tribune had stripped off, that he might gaze on his splendid limbs.

Without turning his beautiful, sad face, the prisoner shook his head, round which flowed long golden hair.

Defiantly, threateningly, he then spoke: "My name is not Antinous; my name is Hortari. Set me free! let me go back to my own people in the rustling forests of the Danube! or else kill me! For know this, shameful man, never will I comply with thy orders."

Leo angrily threw at him the heavy fortress-key, which lay on an ottoman near. "Depart hence, stubborn dog! Davus!" cried he to the younger slave, who was engaged in putting ready the armour of the Tribune, "drag him to the stable, and hang him there in chains! If the brat will not be his master's plaything, away with him to the beasts!"

The boy sprang up and threw his woollen mantle around him.

Davus dragged him away. The look, full of deadly hate, which the young German threw back, quickly turning as he pa.s.sed out of the room, Leo did not observe. He soon recovered his good-humour.

"To-morrow I shall have better company here in the Thalamos," said he, again stroking his dark beard, "than an untamable young bear.

Felicitas! I drink to our first embrace!" And he emptied the cup.