CHAPTER XXV.
The morning after Ausonius had made this last entry in his diary,Bissula, as usual, shared the first meal in his tent with the uncle andnephew. The Prefect of Gaul was in excellent spirits, often jested,talked a great deal, had his goblet repeatedly filled by the slave whowas his cup-bearer, and remarked again that the campaign would soon beover. "When the ships come," he added in conclusion, "the Barbarianswill sue for peace." Glancing up merrily his eyes chanced to rest onthe young girl's face. To his surprise a mocking, nay, angry smile washovering around lips pouting in defiance; her brow was frowning, andshe made no reply. The conversation flagged. Herculanus watched therising cloud sharply, and eagerly fanned the flame.
"What?" he cried. "Peace? Bondage; extirpation! The Caesar will soondrag the last remaining Alemanni before his triumphal chariot to theCapitol: the leaders will be strangled, the rest sold cheap: a Germanfor a cabbage."
Tears of rage filled Bissula's eyes. She could find no words; furychoked her voice. She searched her thoughts, her memory, for aid anddefence. Adalo was the only name which came to her. "Yes, Adalo, if youwere here, or if I had your swift speech, whispered by Odin! Stay--hisverse--his verse of defiance. How, did it run?" She closed her eyes tothink, resting her elbows on the table, with both little clenched handspressed against her throbbing brow.
"I will offer a toast," Herculanus went on, raising his goblet; "pledgeme. You, the pupil of Ausonius, are surely one of us: Disgrace anddeath to the Alemanni!" Bissula sprang up. Her blue eyes were blazing;her red tresses fluttered around her head; a blow from her clenchedfist sent the silver goblet rattling on the floor; and, in the languageof her people, she cried loudly:
"Woe to the Latins! Vengeance on Romans! Break down their castles, Shatter their strongholds, Swing ye the sword Till the base robbers flee! All this region Hath Odin given To his sons of victory-- To us, the Alemanni!
"Oh, I thank you, I thank you, Adalo!" And she rushed out of the tent.
"How foolish!" Ausonius said reproachfully to his nephew. "Howinhospitable! How could you so incense our guest?"
"Guest? Our, that is, the Illyrian's, slave-girl. But forgive me,uncle. It shall not happen again. How little a Barbarian woman suitsthe society of Romans! Our thoughts, our wishes--she is implacablyhostile to all. And Adalo? I have already heard the name. Isn't it--?"
"No matter who it is," thundered the uncle. "But you are my nephew, andhave insulted, roused the lovely girl to furious rage at my table, inmy tent. How would you in Burdigala--"
A gloomy, significant glance from the young Roman checked histhoughtless speech.
"You must appease her. Now leave me; I don't wish to see you againto-day. Or stay--I will follow her myself. Poor little thing!"
Ausonius rose excitedly from the couch and hurried out. Herculanus andthe slave who acted as cup-bearer remained alone in the tent.
"Is it so already?" muttered the former angrily through his set teeth."Does the childish infatuated old fool reveal his plans so openly? Towork, Davus! Well or ill--to work! Have you the hemlock? Have youenough?"
"I think it will do. If it fail the first time, you still have some inthe other little vial?" Herculanus nodded. The slave went on:
"He complained yesterday of all sorts of bad feelings. I'll risk itsoon, before he gets well again. But--one thing more--the Barbariangirl will sleep alone to-night."
"What? Not in the tent with the teamsters' wives?
"No; a contagious eruption broke out there last night: I heardSaturninus give the order to pitch another tent at once on the oppositeside for the prisoner."
"But he will have her closely guarded."
"To-night he is going on a reconnoitring expedition with all hisincorruptible Illyrians. Batavians are to be on duty: they are fond ofdrinking; perhaps--"
"Silence! This ring as a reward for the news. We don't yet know whetherthe plot against the old man will succeed, so we'll have two stringsready for our bow. And I hate her. I don't hate him; only I must havemy inheritance quickly. So to-night! Hush, Prosper is coming! About thepoison--in the two little vials--we'll say more later; you know whereand when. First we'll wait to see what this night will bring forth."
* * * * *
Meanwhile kind-hearted Ausonius had vainly sought the angry fugitive.He looked eagerly down the long wide streets of the camp which crossedin a square at the praetorium--in vain. Now he hoped to find her in herfavorite hiding-place, the secluded spot with the tall fir-tree; but itwas empty. Nor was she perched among the branches: he scanned themcarefully.
Shaking his head he walked on still farther toward the northwest, tothe wall itself. Here he heard voices raised as if disputing, asoldier's and Bissula's. Now he saw Rignomer, the Batavian sentry, withlowered spear forcing back the slowly retreating girl. The man spokehalf in German, half in vulgar Latin; for at that time the Bataviansand Alemanni, though both Germans, found it as hard to understand oneanother as the sailors of the Lower Rhine and the peasants of LakeConstance do at the present day.
"Back, you red elf, you beautiful Idise, you nymph, and never try itagain! It would be a pity to hurt yourself. The wall is too high andthe ditch too deep--" Then the soldier recognized the Prefect, salutedhim, and went back to the top of the wall.
Bissula, noticing the respectful salute, had turned and, stillviolently agitated, rushed to Ausonius, exclaiming: "Father, set mefree at once! at once!"
Ausonius shook his head. "Consider--"
"If you really catch defenceless girls and threaten to kill them by thesword, you glorious Romans, as your nephew--"
"When did he do that?"
"Never mind! Send me with a safe escort, with a letter from you beyondyour outposts."
"Where shall I send you?"
Bissula remained silent a short time. Her face was deeply flushed.
"Where? To the place where you always gaze in your reveries? Outyonder?"
"No," she replied, setting her teeth; "eastward, to my home. Then Iwill take care of myself."
"Child, you must stay till the war is over."
"No, I must go," she answered. "I belong to my people, not to you. It isnot right, it is abominable, for me to sleep safe here in yourprotection, drink Roman wine from golden goblets, while my kindred aresuffering want and danger. Let me go!" She raised her hand. The gesturewas meant to be an entreaty, but it resembled a threat.
"Cease this folly, little one," Ausonius now said, more seriously. "Mynephew's idle, unseemly words offended you; I reproved him for them; hewill beg your pardon,"--Bissula made a contemptuous movement,--"andeverything will be forgotten."
"Shall I forget my people?"
"Forget? No; but gradually become alienated from them. You look amazed.Well, let this trivial incident hasten the important disclosure I haveto make. Are you thinking of leaving me? Give it up, sweet girl!" Hecontrolled himself and went on more calmly: "My little daughter, youwill never leave me again."
Bissula opened her eyes in the utmost astonishment, gazing at the Romanwith the expression of a captured deer. The iron tramp of a marchingcohort was heard close at hand, but the tents still concealed it fromtheir gaze.
"What do you mean?" she stammered.
"I will tell you," said Ausonius in a firmer, sterner tone than he hadever used. The opposition he now suspected irritated him, and he wasdetermined to execute his will. "I will tell you that I have resolvedto fulfil my former plan. I shall take you as my guest for anindefinite time. As my little daughter," he added cautiously, "with meto Burdigala."
"Never!" cried Bissula, raising both arms in the wildest terror.
"Yes, most certainly."
"But I will not go. I--away from the lake--from--from my people? No,no, no!"
"Yes, yes, yes! This is not tyrannical nor c
ruel, as you think now."
"Who will compel me to go away?"
"I. We compel children whom we are educating to do what we desire, fortheir own good. You do not understand your real welfare: I will forceyou to do so."
"But I am no child; I am--" She advanced toward him defiantly.
"You are a captive. Do not forget that. You must obey your master, andhe--"
"Is here," said a deep voice.
Saturninus stepped between them. With a firm hand he held Bissula, whohad turned, reeled as though giddy, and tried again to scale the wall."Do not forget that, Ausonius."
Angered by the interruption, perplexed, and half ashamed, the otherdrew back. "What are you doing?"
"I am protecting my captive."
"Against whom?"
"Against every threat: against wiles as well as compulsion--even thoughwell meant."
Both gazed at him in silence, but the girl's gratitude was blended witha slight thrill of fear--fear of this protector too.
Ausonius was the first to find words. In tones which revealed wrath,jealousy, and suspicion, he exclaimed: "And who will protect heragainst you?"
"Nothing and no one, except my own will."
"Oh, set me free!" cried Bissula, raising her clasped handsdespairingly to the Tribune.
"That you may tell the Barbarians all you have seen and heard in ourcamp? No, little maid. You will stay--perhaps forever. Have no thoughtof escape! Here, countryman!" He beckoned to a soldier. "Take her tothe new tent; keep guard there until I leave tonight; then Rignomer theBatavian will relieve you. And listen: tell my scribe that during theday he must see that she--" The rest was whispered in the ear of theIllyrian, who led the wondering, bewildered girl away by the arm.
Ausonius and Saturninus parted without exchanging a single word: thelatter saluted respectfully; but the angry Prefect did not, or wouldnot, see the farewell.