A Captive of the Roman Eagles Part 23

In those days, as well as now, the great white owl was a rare visitor to Lake Constance. Scarcely once in a decade did this stranger from the far north go so far southwest in its migratory flight as the neighborhood of the Alps. Early in the winter of the previous year Adalo had brought down with his arrow a magnificent specimen of the superb bird of prey from a tall fir-tree in the forest by the lake, and given the huge bird with its gleaming snow-white plumage, marked only with a few rusty brown feathers in undulating lines on the breast, to his white-haired cousin as a splendid ornament for his helmet.

The owl now spread above the bronze head-piece its huge pinions which, though not stretched to their full width, extended more than three feet. It was not mounted as eagle and swan wings usually were, with the tips of the feathers toward the back of the helmet, but in the opposite way, turned forward, startling and confusing the spectator by the threatening att.i.tude--a true helmet of terror, such as Odin wears when he rushes into battle at the head of his troops.

With this helmet and clad in full armor, the Duke came out of his tent and motioned to one of the heralds, who always waited his orders here.

The man seized the long crooked horn of the aurochs, which hung ready on one of the posts of the tent, and sounded it three times. The summons echoed far and wide. Instantly the other heralds, carrying white-ash staffs in their hands, and wearing smaller horns hung by leather thongs over their shoulders, hurried down from the summit in every direction, through all the lines of the fortifications, bearing the Duke's summons to the most distant outpost.

The warriors flocked from all sides, fully armed, swiftly climbing the mountain; only the guards needed to protect the fords across the swamps, the barricades, and the narrow entrances to the ring walls remained behind. All pressed up the mountain and, as soon as they reached the summit, surged toward a giant ash-tree which, from the top of the loftiest mountain peak, thrust its branches into the clouds.

Close to its trunk a sort of judge's tribunal had been built of large stones; an oblong one rested like a back against the tree; another of the same height, laid across two blocks sunk in the earth, formed the seat.

Several stone steps led up to the high seat, and on them lay various weapons, among them one very plain s.h.i.+eld and spear, with the rune _fe_, corresponding to the Latin _F_. Then came a costly boar helmet, a richly ornamented bronze s.h.i.+eld, covered with a boar's hide and, like the helmet, decorated with two boar's tusks outstretched defiantly; a sword in a costly sheath of polished linden wood, richly mounted with bronze; a sharp battle axe and a spear, the handles of both adorned and strengthened by gilded nails: these weapons bore as a house-mark drawings of two boar tusks. Last of all were a small, very light round s.h.i.+eld, a short spear, and a dainty sword with a white leather belt painted with red lead: each of the three weapons bore as house-mark a stag's antlers.

The Duke had not yet taken his seat. Standing erect on the horizontal stone, with his spear in his right hand, he scanned the warriors flocking from every direction. A huge oblong s.h.i.+eld, almost the height of a man, painted red, with black runes inscribed upon it, hung above his head on a bough of the ash.

The whole top of the peak around the tree was inclosed and girdled by "cords and staves"; that is, by hazel wands and spears, which--the latter with the iron points uppermost--stood thrust into the earth at distances of seven feet apart, and were bound together by linen bands almost a hand's breadth wide, knotted around the middle of the staffs, the red hue of the bands proclaiming that the popular a.s.sembly was to judge matters of life and death.

CHAPTER x.x.xIV.

After the surging to and fro of the men pressing forward into the circle, the loud voices, and the clank of weapons had somewhat died away, the Duke raised his spear and struck with it three solemn strokes on the bronze s.h.i.+eld. Instantly deep silence reigned. "The a.s.sembly is opened!" said Hariowald, and slowly took his seat, crossing one foot over the other.

Throwing back the long, full, dark-blue mantle, fastened by a clasp on the left shoulder, he rested his spear like a staff on his right shoulder, and raising his left hand with the fingers extended, said slowly:

"I, the Judge, I ask you for the law!

I ask you, ye free men: Is this the hour and the place, To have and to hold A judgment righteous Upon n.o.ble Alemanni, The sons of victory-- House and estate.

Cattle and chattels, Money and lands, Peace and liberty, Body and life?

Point out, ye men of knowledge, The law to the Judge."

Two elderly men stepped forward, drew their swords, raised them toward heaven, and said with long pauses, the words of one always blending with those of the other:

"We will point out, as we know it, To thee, Judge, the law: This is the hour and the place For judgment righteous: On the conquered and inherited Ancient soil of the Alemanni, By the all-conquering sun's Clear, s.h.i.+ning, ascending, Radiant light, Beneath the ancient Ash of our fathers, In Odin's temple, On cattle and chattels, Money and lands, Peace and liberty, Body and life, Justly we judge And find, we free men, Sentence righteous."

Both withdrew into the circle.

"Before we march forth to the battle against the foe," the Duke now broke the silence, "and we shall set out soon, very soon--"

Loud shouts of joy and rattling of weapons burst forth, which the old n.o.ble allowed to die away; then he continued:

"The popular a.s.sembly must first p.r.o.nounce judgment and decide questions of justice and law. First on Fiskulf, the fisherman, from Rohr-Mos, the rush marshes. Where is the accuser?"

Adalo stepped forward hesitatingly.

"Here: I, Adalo, son of Adalger."

"Step to the right. Where is the defendant?"

"Here!" said a man in plain garments; he wore an old fis.h.i.+ng net for a girdle. With head bent sorrowfully he came forward, lowering his eyes.

"What is your complaint?" asked the judge.

"Breaking the oath of military duty."

"That is a matter of life and death. Tell me the law: may Adalo, son of Adalger, make such a charge here?"

One of the two old men stepped forward again, and said:

"The a.s.sembly knows Adalo, the Adeling, as a free man of unblemished reputation: his estate is in the Linzgau: it would cover any charge of false accusation: he may make complaint in a matter of life and death."

At a sign from the judge the young n.o.ble began:

"I make the complaint reluctantly,--against my wish and will,--but my oath requires it. For when I took command of the men of the western sh.o.r.e of the lake, I was obliged to swear on the Duke's hand to denounce before the a.s.sembly any breach of his orders that might occur in my troop. So speak I must, for I fear to break the oath. You all know that the Duke forbade, on pain of death, the lighting of a fire by day or night in any of the boats where the fugitives from the country at first lay concealed among the rushes on the western sh.o.r.e: if the Romans, while pa.s.sing, discovered by smoke or flame that there were people living in the wide marshy forests, all who were hidden there might be lost. When I set out, I repeated the Duke's command to all my men; Fiskulf was standing on my s.h.i.+eld side. And yet, while the foe was pa.s.sing along the sh.o.r.e he lighted a fire on the Pike Stone which rises above the reeds. True, it was daylight, but the smoke was visible. The nearest cohort had halted and was preparing to look for the fire, which I with difficulty put out in time to lull their suspicions. I must now accuse Fiskulf of this breach of orders."

He paused and drew back a step. A murmur of indignation ran through the ranks, blended with many a loud cry of anger and reproach.

"Silence, all! Silence in the circle, until I ask your judgment,"

shouted the Duke from his lofty stone seat, raising his spear aloft. "I forbid reproaches; I command peace. You, Fiskulf, what say you to the charge? Denial, or confession?"

"Confession," replied the fisherman sorrowfully. "It is as the Adeling said."

"You knew the command?"

"I knew it."

"You broke the command?"

"I broke it. Alas, I am so deeply ashamed. It was from hunger--but not to satisfy my own. We had lain hidden in the marshland forest for many nights; the stock of dried fish I had brought in the boat was exhausted. I repressed my hunger and chewed the tops of the young reeds. I would not have done it for myself; but my boy, who was with me (he had just recovered from the fever that lurks in the swamps, and he is only seven years old), cried so bitterly with hunger, begging and pleading: 'Father, father, give me something to eat!' It cut me to the heart! I speared a large pike that was sunning itself near the stone, cut it in pieces, and meant to give it to the child to eat. But loathing choked him: he only cried quietly and no longer entreated me.

Then I rubbed two dry sticks together till I kindled a fire, broiled the fish on the top of the stone, and gave it to the boy to eat. I ate some myself, too."

"I was forced to accuse him," said Adalo. "But I entreat the a.s.sembly not to punish the man. No harm came from his act. A father--"

"Silence, Accuser," the judge interrupted. "You have made the complaint; he has confessed: you have nothing more to do here except to listen to the sentence. I ask: what may follow breaking an order given to the troops when the enemy is in the country? What? You are silent?

The disobedience might destroy the whole nation. What? You refuse to point out the law," the old man went on indignantly. "Or do you gray-beards no longer know what the boys learn? Answer! Point out the law,--" he rose threateningly,--"or I will tear the s.h.i.+eld of the a.s.sembly from the ash and complain to the G.o.ds: The Alemanni have forgotten the laws of their people! What is the punishment of treason and breaking the oath of service?"

"Death!" now rang forth in many voices.

"I knew it," said the fisherman quietly. "Farewell, countrymen. I wish you victory and prosperity."

But the Duke continued:

"What death must he die? By the willow-withe? By water? By the red stroke of the knife? Or by the red flame of burning branches?"

One of the two old men stepped forward again, saying: "By his deed he has offended Zio the war-G.o.d and Odin the giver of victory. Zio demands blood upon the stone of sacrifice; Odin's will is that he shall blow in the wind. Odin is the greater G.o.d and the father of Zio: the lesser yields to the greater; the son to the father. Odin's right is first: the oath-breaker is consecrated to Odin, He shall be hung by willow ropes under the chin, with his face toward the north, from the withered yew, a wolf at his right hand and a wolf at his left--the oldest symbols of quarrelsome, reckless lawbreakers."

"He is consecrated to Odin," the judge repeated solemnly--"if Odin desires him. We will ask the G.o.d."

All gazed in astonishment, the fisherman with a faint thrill of hope, at the old man, who now continued:

"It is dishonorable and shameful for the man to swing among the branches, between the sky and the mountain top. And hitherto he has been brave--only he could not be strong enough to bear the weeping of his child. He will die useless to his people, if he hang high aloft on the tree. Well then, we will ask Odin if, perchance, he will forgive him. You all, like the accuser himself, at first wished to let the act pa.s.s unpunished. That will not do. To the Lofty One we must offer his right; but--perhaps--he will not take it. I advise that Fiskulf shall venture upon a deed in which, for his people's welfare, he will fall, inevitably fall, unless Odin himself take pity on him and bear him away in his floating mantle."