CHAPTER XIV.
At daybreak the tuba sounded through the Roman camp, summoning todeparture the bands who were to share the expedition.
"Where is my nephew?" asked Ausonius, mounting the beautiful grayCantabrian stallion, whose stirrup was held by old Prosper. "He isusually the first at my bedside to greet me."
"He hastened on with his mailed riders long ago. He started even beforethe Tribune."
"What zeal! I like that," said the uncle, patting the neck of his noblesteed. "At home in Burdigala he devoted his time solely to--"
"To spending your money, O patron!" growled the old man.
"Pshaw, never mind, graybeard! My money--it will soon be his money."
"May the Olympians--forgive me, the saints--forbid!"
"Put no restraint on yourself on my account. I prefer them too. Theyhave the advantage of suiting the metre better, at least most of them.Where is Saturninus?"
"Gone already. He left word that you might follow: you could not missthe way. See, there are the helmets of the last men in his rear-guard.His countryman Decius commands them."
"I see. Forward! How beautifully the morning light smiles upon us. Helpme, unconquered sun-god!"
He put spurs to his horse and, followed by a brilliant train of mountedmen, dashed down the hill and through the Porta Principalis Dextraeastward, toward the sun. A guide had sought the best path at theearliest dawn, marking it by placing at certain spaces small stonescarried in bags by the pioneers who accompanied and watched him.The Prefect of Gaul soon reached the path trodden by Adalo a fewdays before, which led to Suomar's lonely forest dwelling. With athrobbing heart he recognized the familiar spot: the little hill, thebroad-branched oak, the neighboring spring: nothing had changed in thefew years, except that another piece of tilled land had been wrested byfire from the primeval forest.
At the fence which inclosed the court-yard he sprang from his horse; hehad ordered his escort to halt at the oak-tree. The blood suffused hisface, so intense was his anxiety. The narrow gate in the palisade stoodajar. Entering the yard, he uttered a cry of joyful astonishment: alittle flower garden had been laid out beside the door of the house; herecognized with emotion in the gay blossoms, now in the full bloom ofsummer, the seeds and slips which he had given the child in Arbor, nay,even ordered from Gaul. Italian and Gallic flowers and shrubs,evidently tended by loving hands, splendid roses and evergreen yewsgreeted him in thick beds, and also small fruit-trees. Pontinecherries, Picentinian apples, Aquitanian pears, had grown as high asthe door.
"Yes, yes," said Ausonius, smiling, "how everything has grown andblossomed in five years!" Then something whirred over his head; fromopenings in the stable-roof a whole flock of dainty little blue-graydoves flew across the garden to the neighboring field of oats. "See,"cried Ausonius, looking after them. "My Lycian rock-doves fromBurdigala! How that one pair has multiplied!"
He hesitated to enter the house. Doubtless he told himself that thehope of finding her he sought was faint, nay futile. But hereeverything seemed to bear witness to her presence; there on the benchbefore the dwelling lay--he knew them well--the delicate garden shearswhich he had sent to her from Vindonissa. He did not wish to cross thethreshold and rob himself of every hope.
The clank of armor came from the open door: a centurion belonging toHerculanus's troop approached, bowing respectfully. "Everything isempty, _vir illuster_, the Tribune sends word. And we are to askyou--we are burning all the Barbarians' houses--whether this too--"
"Let it remain uninjured."
The man nodded with a look of pleasure. "I am glad to obey the order.It would have been a hard task to destroy this home. Umbrian roses,Picentinian mallows, like those which grow around my parents' house inSpoletium, in the midst of the Barbarians' marshes! Who can havewrought this miracle?"
"A poet," replied Ausonius, smiling, "and the fourth, the youngest, ofthe Graces. So Saturninus was here himself?"
"Yes, but even before him your nephew, with me. Herculanus searchedeverywhere carefully, nay, greedily. He forbade my accompanying him. Iwas obliged to wait at the entrance."
"The good fellow! He wanted to bring her to me himself, to surpriseme--"
"Directly after Herculanus left, Saturninus dashed up."
"Where did the troop go from here?"
"Yonder into the forest, keeping to the left, steadily to the left,away from the lake. Otherwise horses and men would sink in the morass.You will find sentinels posted in the woods every three hundred paces.I, with three men, form the commencement of the chain here."
"See that the yard and garden are not injured. I'll promise in return ajug of the best wine."
With these words he turned away, mounted his horse and, followed by hisescort, rode toward the left across the tilled land and meadowssurrounding the dwelling to the entrance of the neighboring wood, wherethe helmets and spears of the next sentinels glittered brightly in thesunshine.
But Herculanus had not been content with thoroughly searching thedeserted house. He had also carefully examined the neighborhood forsome trace of the vanished girl. He was soon unable to ride fartherthrough the tangled underbrush; so, leaping from his horse, he gave hisMauritanian roan charger into the care of the only man he had permittedto accompany him, and glided on foot through the thicket. A sort ofpath which he had discovered with much difficulty and followed for somedistance suddenly ended.
While vainly searching for the stones and bits of wood which hitherto,though at long distances, had marked the direction of the way, he sawplainly in the marshy ground of the forest the imprint of humanfootsteps. And the people who had passed here were not Romans: thetroops had never yet pressed so far eastward. Besides, the prints werenot like those made by the seeker's own heavy Roman marching shoes: heintentionally trod lightly close beside the marks he had found, but howdifferent was the track! His deep footprints instantly filled with thereddish-yellow marsh-water, which oozed from the ground at the leastpressure. But within a short time some one had walked by herebarefooted with a lighter tread. Indeed, not one person, but several.For besides one mark which seemed to belong to a child, always one stepbehind was a somewhat heavier and broader impression, and invariably atthe right of it a narrow but deep little hole filled with water, as ifmade by the sharp end of a staff, while partly at the left, partly twopaces in advance, a man's heavier tread seemed unmistakable.
The Roman followed the footprints with eager zeal; if he did not findthose whom he sought, he would have the credit of being the first todiscover the direction in which the Barbarians had fled. Suddenly thetraces appeared to vanish, in front of a large hawthorn bush whichbarred the way. From beneath the hand thrusting the thorns aside alittle brown bird with a red breast flew up startled. Bending forward,the Roman peered into the bush, then a cry of glad surprise escaped hislips: "Aha! She passed here! She herself!"
Slowly, slowly he drew through his hand a shining red-gold hair whichhad caught on a thorn: it was at least an ell long. And beyond thethorn-bush the footprints were again visible, even more distinctly thanbefore, on a patch of damp sand. What seemed a child's footprints weremade by her steps.