Bissula. English

  CHAPTER XLI.

  Oppressed by sad yearning and anxiety, the usually light-hearted childhad again walked this evening from her tent to the lake gate, andthence, driven back by the shouts of the Thracian sentries, wanderedthrough the whole camp to her beloved pine-tree, which had begun tosupply the place of the oak beside her forest home: for the tree of theearth-goddess also afforded a convenient ascent like a stairway on itsbroad branches drooping to the sacrificial stones, while on the centraltrunk was a hiding-place invisible from below, with a comfortable back,and the beloved view over the Roman fortifications to the mountainpeaks rising in the distance.

  The sun had set long before, and darkness gathered quickly in thatregion as soon as the glowing ball had vanished behind the woodedwestern shores of the lake. There was no moon; only a few stars were inthe sky.

  The wind bore to her ears from the distance scattered sounds: theneighing of a horse, the rattle of a weapon, the shout of a sentinel atthe gate. Oh, those guards, who also watched her here in her spaciousprison, prevented her escape, her return to her people--for how muchlonger? Sorrow overpowered her, and she felt that tears were about toflow. But her tyrants should not see them; she would weep her fill, upabove there!

  Bissula glided lightly up and sat so still in her hiding-place amongthe boughs that a belated bird--a blackbird--perched for the night,without seeing her, a few branches above her head.

  Then the girl saw two men step cautiously from behind corner tents,each at the end of a street running in opposite directions across thecamp; they made signs to each other, gazed carefully behind andsideways, then hurried forward and met directly under the pine-tree onits northern side, so that the huge trunk completely concealed themfrom the camp.

  Bissula bent softly, softly downward: it was a man with a helmet andone unarmed; she could not distinguish their features. They began totalk, in whispers, it is true, but the listener understood many words,and she now recognized the speakers by their voices.

  "But I tell you, it must be this very day! He has ordered the scribe tocome early tomorrow morning, with the seal. He means to change hiswill--to add a codicil. What good will his death do me, if he firstthrows the best part of his riches into that wench's lap?"

  The other made some reply which the girl did not hear.

  "Ha!--she--she can't be reached!" answered the first speaker. "Thatred-haired witch is under the protection of the fiends of hell."

  "How so?"

  "Why, one night lately--a deadly terror has seized me ever since when Isee the brown beast--the monster's hot, loathsome breath was steamingfrom her open jaws into my face! She was within a hair's breadth ofclutching and squeezing me to death! This very evening--just now--atsupper--"

  "Hark, what was that," asked the other startled, "up above in thepine-tree? Didn't you hear anything?"

  "Pshaw! The night-breeze in the branches!"

  "No, no! It was--"

  "Well, it was that bird! There it flies!"

  The startled blackbird, loudly uttering its cry of fear and warning,flew upward; the listener, in her horror, had pressed her hand upon herthrobbing heart and, by the slight movement, frightened the birdperched so near her.

  "Well then, by Tartarus, I will risk it! He complained again to-day,before many witnesses, of fever and all sorts of pains. Have youhemlock enough? Shall I give you my vial? I brought it with me. Here, Ialways carry it in my breast."

  "Enough for six uncles!"

  "But the stuff must have a suspicious taste: sharp, bitter. Suppose heshould notice it too soon?"

  "That's why I mixed the other half with honey. But take good care ofyour store. Perhaps Prosper, in case he has any suspicion, must also--"

  "Or the Barbarian girl, if the will has already--"

  "Let us go," the other interrupted.

  "Put it in the Emperor's goblet! He drinks from no other.--Quick: I goto the left."

  "And I go to the right."

  The voices died away, and the footsteps echoed from two directions.

  Horrified, almost paralyzed with terror, Bissula slipped down from thetree. On reaching the ground she staggered, clinging to the trunk forsupport, and for a moment wondered whether she had not fallen asleepand dreamed. She could not realize, could not believe that such a deedwas possible. His own nephew--that kind-hearted man!

  And yet it was true. Haste was necessary. The hour for the meal hadalready come, and Ausonius always began by drinking from the Emperor'sgoblet, with the three beautiful female figures, to the health of theEmperor Gratianus.

  Those two men had the start, too, and it was a considerable distancefrom this extreme northwestern corner of the camp to the Praetorium inthe south. Turning, she ran as swiftly as she could, but had onlyreached the corner of the nearest street of tents when she shriekedaloud in terror. An iron hand grasped her arm.

  "Help!" she screamed despairingly. "Help! Help for Ausonius!"

  "Why are you shrieking like a dying leveret, little one?" replied adeep voice. "Where are you going so fast?"

  "Let me go, whoever you may be! The Prefect's life is in danger! Whoare you?"

  "I am Rignomer. I followed you unnoticed till you climbed the tree. Youwouldn't have seen me now, if you hadn't dashed away as though you weredriven by the elves. Where are you going?"

  "To the Prefect! They want to murder him!"

  "Oh, nonsense, what are you talking about? Who?"

  "Don't ask! Come with me! Hurry! Alas, perhaps even now it is toolate."

  The Batavian yielded to this unmistakable despair. Without removing hishand from her arm, he ran beside her.

  "Where is the Tribune?" asked Bissula.

  "With the Prefect: some news has come from Arbor."

  "The gods be thanked. He is the only one who can help!"

  On they ran through the streets of the camp, now perfectly dark exceptwhere fires were glimmering at the corners. Suddenly Bissula fell. TheGerman dragged her up.

  "A tent rope! You must keep more in the middle. But you are limping!Did you hurt yourself?"

  "A little. Keep on."

  But she reeled; her feet refused to carry her.

  "Now it's lucky that I caught you," said the soldier, swinging her onhis arm like a child. And Bissula, who usually so fiercely resistedevery touch, willingly permitted it.

  "Throw your arms around my neck, little one! There. Now hold fast! Itwon't be long" ("unfortunately" he thought, but took good care not tosay it), "we shall reach there directly." And he pressed on swiftly andsturdily with his light, beautiful burden.