Bissula. English

by Felix Dahn

  CHAPTER XXXII.

  The Duke had already taken the roll of papyrus from the boy's hand andspread it open on the table. His eye sparkled with the joy of victory.

  "What do I read here? 'Four squadrons of mailed horsemen at the PortaDecumana, all the baggage also piled at the Porta Decumana.

  "'The wall eight feet high.

  "'The ditch five feet deep.

  "'The weakest point the corner in the northwest'--and so it continuesfor a long time!

  "Thanks to thee, god of wishes. Thou hast sent this, no one else, tothy sons. Look here! A plan of the entire camp! Exact: all themeasurements. And here, marked on the margin, the strength of all thetroops horsemen, foot-soldiers, carters; and their distribution inthe camp. Look here, Adalo! Even the great pine, the tree of theearth-goddess, is noted. What is this beside the tree? What standsthere above the stones of sacrifice which cover the turf near the tree?A tent, empty, without soldiers, filled with provisions!

  "In this page I hold victory. Go now, Zercho: your reward shall bepaid. As I promised, I will buy your freedom, whatever sum your master,Suomar, may ask: he cannot give it to you, his lands are not large, andyou are his most valuable property."

  "O mighty, generous lord, I thank you!"

  "Then you can return, a free man, to your own people, to Sarmatia. Thatwill be your wish?"

  But Zercho shook his unkempt head. Tears filled his eyes: "No," hesaid. "I will stay here, my lord, if Suomar will let me keep the littlepatch of ground I have always tilled--I had to give him only thetwelfth sheaf from it--and the hut of woven willow branches by thelake. I would rather stay."

  "Strange! Do you feel no longing for your home, your own people?"

  "Home! We Sarmatians have none like yours, you patient, plough-guidingmen, which you occupy beside the immovable hearthstone, rooted to theearth. Our home is the steppe, the broad, free steppe, which can bemeasured neither by the eye nor the steed. Ah! it is beautiful." Theman's eyes sparkled, and suddenly Zercho, usually so dull and taciturn,was overwhelmed by an enthusiasm which, to the listeners' astonishment,gave his words wings. "Yes, it is more beautiful, more magnificent thanall the Roman and German lands I have ever seen. When, in the spring,the sun has kissed away the last snow; when the moor laughs; when thesteppe blossoms; when by day hundreds of hawks scream at once in theblue air, and the wild stallions, which have never borne a rider, neighso terribly and dash so furiously past the tents, trampling overeverything in their path as they pursue the trembling mares, till theheart of the boldest man might quiver with fear and yet also with joyat sight of such fierce, uncurbed strength! And oh, the nights, whenthe thousands and thousands of heavenly spirits look down from above,far, far more star-gods, shining far more brightly than here withyou; and when, in the darkness, the cranes and wild-swans pass likethick clouds--for there are so many that they cast shadows in themoonlight--like resonant, clanging clouds high in the air!

  "Doubtless the steppes of Sarmatia are more beautiful than any otherlands and the lives of the Jazyges on their swift steeds are freer thanother lives. But Zercho--Zercho no longer suits the steppe. I am likethe bird, the wild bird of the moor, which boys keep for years in asmall cage where it cannot spread its wings. If it is set free, nay,flung into the air, it drops down and lies still; it can no longer fly,it has forgotten how. So, toiling with the plough for many years andstaying in one place has fettered me. Zercho can no longer ride as theJazyges ride, vying with the wind; Zercho can no longer sleep everynight on a different patch of earth and, if there be nothing better toeat, catch locusts and lizards. I am used to grain and bread, the fruitof the lands I have ploughed myself. I have no wish to leave them. Andmy family? I saw them all--all six--die before my eyes in one night,the terrible night when the faithless Romans--those slayers of thepeople, those murderous wolves!--suddenly attacked our encampment withthe round, straw-thatched huts, by the Tibiscus, during an armistice.The bright blaze of the hurdles lighted them well in their work ofslaughter. My father killed, my mother hurled into the flames of thestraw tent, my two sisters--oh, horrible!--tortured to death, my twobrothers leaping into the stream which flowed red with blood! And I--Isaw it all, stretched before the hut, my head cleft by a sword stroke,defenceless, motionless. So I lay the whole starlit night, asking thethousand gods above there: 'Why? Why? Why?' But, when day dawned, theslave dealers who, like the ravens of the air and the wolves of thesteppe marshes, follow the Romans on every battle-field, came and trodon all the Jazyges who lay there, to learn whether they were stillalive. I quivered under their feet, was flung into a cart, and carriedwith them many, many days and weeks. At last the kind-hearted Suomarbought and rescued me. For never, though I was a bondman, did he callme 'dog,' like the dealers. He treated me like--like a human being. Andwhen the little mistress grew up, Suomar's farm became my home. And Iwill stay down in the willow hut beside the lake as a free man, so longas I live, if I am allowed to do so. And when Zercho's death hourcomes, the little red sprite (for we must rescue her, Adeling, and wewill) shall close my eyes with her hand, and then they shall bury me inthe open country, in the pastures by the lake. The cranes will passover me at night with rustling wings and clanging cries, high in theair, and I shall hear it under the thin covering of turf and, in mydeath sleep, dream that I am lying in the blossoming, fragrant steppegrass."

  He stopped. His cheeks were flushed; his ugly face was transfigured;never in his whole life had he uttered so many words at once.

  The Duke held out his hand, saying: "No, Zercho, you are no dog. Youhave a heart, almost like the Alemanni's. Different, it is true, butnot evil."

  Adalo said nothing, but he clasped the bondman's other hand and pressedit warmly. Sippilo turned away: he did not want to let any one see hiseyes.

  "You have a lucky hand, boy," cried the Duke. "I can read your wishesin your eyes. Yes, you shall share the battle for the victory whichyour bold artifice has done so much to win."

  Sippilo rushed to the old Commander-in-chief and clasped both hishands: "You diviner and fulfiller of wishes! I can imagine Odin likeyou! Last autumn Adalo refused me the sword, because"--he hung hishead--"because I could not pierce with my spear the willow-wovenHermunduri shield in our hall. Pshaw, I was only a child then; but atthe spring festival I pierced the old Roman shield which Suomar gave mefor a target."

  "I had bored six holes in it and stopped them up again," Zerchowhispered to the Duke; "but let him go. I'll protect him."

  Hariowald dismissed the bondman and the lad.

  "Well," urged Adalo vehemently, "in this sheet you hold in your handsthe victory,--you said so yourself,--so let us fight at last."

  But the Duke silently shook his head.

  "Consider. 'Hasten' was her last word! Tonight?"

  "No. What is one girl in comparison to a whole nation?"

  "I beseech you! I implore you! You are my friend--my kinsman."

  "I am Duke of the Alemanni."

  "Well then," cried Adalo, deeply incensed, "delay. I will save her--Ialone! There is a way, known only to myself and to you. I will use it."

  He turned to rush from the tent, but quickly, with a threatening look,the old noble barred his way. "Stop, boy! Do not stir from this place.Will you rob your people of certain victory for the sake of a pair ofblue eyes?"

  "I will not rob them of it! I will only appear to-night in the Romancamp,--I alone,--and bear her out of it in these arms, or leave my lifethere."

  "Whether you live or die, the secret will be discovered--the surest wayto victory in our attack."

  "You will conquer, with or without Adalo, in other ways. I will savethe girl I love before it is too late."

  He tried to force himself past the Duke, but the old man seized him byboth shoulders with an iron grasp and forced him to stand.

  "And I will accuse you before the popular assembly, like thattreacherous king; I will have you hung between two wolves to a bough ofthe accursed withered yew."

  "Do what y
ou choose after I have saved her or died with her," cried thefrantic youth, wrenching himself free. But, with unexpected strength,the old Duke flung him, reeling, back into the tent.

  "I will have you bound hand and foot like a madman. You are mad. Freyahas bewitched you. Hear it, Adalger, high in Valhalla: Adalo, your son,no longer heeds a hero's duty or manly honor. He must be bound withwillow withes, with ropes, that he may not become base and destroy hispeople for a woman's sake."

  Agitated, overpowered, crushed, Adalo sank prostrate, his handsclenched in his long locks, moaning: "Bissula--lost--lost!"

  The Duke, unobserved, cast a keen sympathizing glance at the youth. Hesaw that he had convinced and conquered him.

  Adalo went out, grave and thoughtful, to be alone with his grief.

  * * * * *

  In the course of the day a messenger secretly conveyed to the Romancamp a letter from Adalo, addressed to Saturninus and Ausonius. Theyoung chieftain, on the pretext of inspecting the farthest outposts,had gone with his envoy from the top of the Holy Mountain through thewhole seven fortifications encircling it to the last one at the foot,and then ridden with him into the forest which stretched between it andthe Roman camp. Here he awaited the answer, his noble face pale anddisfigured by the long mental conflict through which he had passed.When he heard in the distance the hoof-beats of the returning horse(evening had come, and the mountain peaks oh the opposite side of thelake were glowing with crimson light), he ran breathless to meet it.

  "Well," he cried, "where is the answer to the letter?"

  "They gave me no answer. Both the Roman generals--for I had them bothcalled, as you ordered--read your letter before me with great, greatastonishment. They talked together, with loud exclamations, in words Idid not understand, not Roman ones. Then both turned to me, the olderone, who was formerly in the country, speaking first: 'Tell your masterthe answer is: Never.' And the younger man added: 'Not even for thisprice.'"

  Then Adalo suddenly fell prone like a young pine whose last prop abovethe last root has been cut by the axe. He had dropped face forward. Thefaithful attendant sprang from his horse, sat down on the grass, andtook the senseless youth's head in his lap. Adalo lay unconscious along time, fairly stupefied by grief. The stars were already shining inthe sky, and the bats darting through the trees, when, panting forbreath, he climbed the mountain.

  "That was the last effort," he said to himself. "Nothing is left nowexcept death--death in battle, not to save her, alas! only her corpse:for if shame be inflicted on her, she will not survive it."