Felicitas: A Tale of the German Migrations: A.D. 476

  CHAPTER XIII.

  But the murderer now thought it was not the high-towering form of thePresbyter. He bent down so that the black horse-tail of his high helmetfell forwards, and drew back the hood, and with it the head of themurdered man.

  With a short scream he let it again fall.

  "Irony of fate! The usurer! How comes he here? How in this disguise?Where is the priest?"

  But before the Tribune could think about these questions, his wholeattention was drawn towards the chief entrance of the church, by anoise of the most startling kind.

  Leo had stationed his troops in the Forum of Hercules; had left themwith the command there to await his return. He had dismounted, and puthis horse in charge of one of the troopers. He wished to reach thepriest's house on foot, by a circuitous route through narrow streets,where he would be less observed.

  He had been startled when half-way by seeing the flames rise, andhearing in the distance the tumult of the revolted slaves. He stoodstill.

  A fleeing woman then hurried towards him, with covered head, he stoppedher.

  "It is thou, Tribune!" cried the fugitive.

  "What? Thou, Zoe! The Judge's wife! What has happened?"

  "The slaves! Our house is burning! Save! help!"

  "My troops are standing in the Forum of Hercules. I will return myselfimmediately. Then will I help."

  He had then hurried into the empty house of the priest, rushing throughit with sword drawn, he reached the Basilica, and instead of him hesought, had struck dead his own confederate. He had hardly discoveredthis, when there sounded in the direction of the portal the bugles andtrumpets of his horsemen, calling to the attack.

  "They are in conflict with the rioters," thought the Tribune, and hewas going out through the doorway. "Rascals of slaves! while thebarbarians stand before the gates!"

  But on the threshold he suddenly stopped: for quite a different soundstruck on his terrified ear--not the raging howl of frantic slaves; no,a cry well known to him--the watch-cry, the war-cry, the cry of victoryof the Germans, and--it was close at hand.

  "Germans in the town? Impossible!"

  But, stepping carefully out from the door of the Basilica, he saw atthe corner of the great square whole swarms, yes, hundreds of Germans,on foot--not the few horsemen whom they had so long observed--and theywere advancing straight towards the church.

  "To fight one's way through! Impossible! Back! through the priest'shouse!"

  He fled through the nave of the church, past the still raised stoneslab into the house of Johannes. But the noise came towards him in thatdirection also, loud laughing and shouting, and he saw approaching acrowd of Germans with a stout Roman at their head, whom they hadheavily laden with wine-skins.

  As quickly as his heavy armour would allow him, he turned back into theBasilica, sprang--this seemed the only possible place of safety--intothe open vault, pulled down the stone slab, and immediately heard theGermans pouring into the church through both entrances. Shouting andexulting the conquerors greeted each other over the head of theimprisoned commandant of Juvavum.