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"Hilderic and Euages too?"
"No. Verus had them taken to the second camp near Bulla. Bleda, the captured Hun, had been tied with a rope outside to the bronze rings of the church doors; he lay on the upper step. On the square, in front of the little church, were about twenty of our hors.e.m.e.n. Many, by Thrasaric's command,--he rode repeatedly across the square, gazing watchfully in every direction,--had dismounted. Thrusting their spears into the sand beside their horses, they lay flat on the low roofs of the surrounding houses looking toward the southwest to see the advancing foe. I sat on horseback by the open window of the basilica.
From the corner one can see straight to the entrance of the main road from Decimum, where Astarte's--formerly Modigisel's--villa stands. So I heard every word that was spoken in the basilica. Two boyish voices were disputing vehemently.
"'What?' cried one. 'Is this the loudly vaunted heroism of the Vandals?
You are placed here, Ammata, in the asylum of the church of the much-tortured Catholics? Do you seek shelter here?' 'The order of the King,' replied Ammata, choking with rage. 'Ah,' sneered the other; it was Pudentius--I now recognized the tones--'I would not be commanded to do that by king or emperor. I am chained hand and foot, or I would have been outside long ago, fighting with the Romans.' 'The order of the King, I tell you.' 'Order of cowardice. Ha, if _I_ were a member of the royal house for whose throne men were fighting, nothing would keep me in a church, while--Hark! that is the tuba. It is proclaiming a Roman victory.'
"I heard no more; the Roman trumpets were blaring outside of Decimum."
Just at that moment the folds of the tent were pushed softly apart. A pale face, two large dark eyes, gazed in, unseen by any one.
"At the same instant," continued the Gunding, "a figure sprang from the very high window of the basilica,--I don't yet understand how the boy climbed up to it,--ran past me, swung himself on the horse of one of our troopers, tore the spear from the ground beside it, and with the exulting shout, 'Vandals! Vandals!' dashed down the street to meet the Byzantines.
"'Ammata! Ammata! Halt!' Thrasaric called after him. But he was already far away. 'Follow him! Gundomar! Follow him! Save the boy!' cried Thrasaric, rus.h.i.+ng past me.
"I followed; our men--a slender little band--did the same. 'Too soon!
Much too soon!' I exclaimed, as I overtook Thrasaric.
"'The King commanded me to protect the lad!'
"It was impossible to stop him; I followed. We had already reached the narrow southern entrance of Decimum. On the right was Astarte's villa, on the left the high stone wall of a granary. Ammata, without helmet, breastplate, or s.h.i.+eld, with only the spear in his hand, was facing a whole troop of mounted lancers, who stared in amazement at the mad boy.
"'Back, Ammata! Fly, I will cover the entrance here,' shouted Thrasaric.
"'I will not fly! I am a grandson of Genseric,' was the lad's answer.
"'Then we will die here together. Here is my s.h.i.+eld.'
"It was high time. Already the lances of the Byzantines were hurtling at us. Our three horses fell. We all sprang up unhurt. A spear struck the s.h.i.+eld which Thrasaric had forced upon the boy, penetrating the hammer on it. A dozen of our men had now reached us. Six sprang from their horses, levelling their lances. We were enough to block the narrow entrance. The Byzantines dashed upon us; only three horses could come abreast. We three killed two horses and one man. Our foes were obliged to remove the dead animals, our three and the fourth, to gain s.p.a.ce. While doing this Ammata sprang forward and struck down another Byzantine. As he leaped back an arrow grazed his neck; the blood burst forth; the boy laughed. Again the foes dashed forward. Again two fell.
But Ammata was obliged to drop the hammer s.h.i.+eld, there were now so many spears sticking in it, and Thrasaric received a lance-thrust in his s.h.i.+eldless left arm. Behind the Byzantines we now heard German horns; the sound was like the blast announcing the approach of our Vandal hors.e.m.e.n. 'Gibamund, or the King!' our men shouted. 'We are saved.'
"But we were lost. They were Herulians in the Emperor's pay. Their leader, a tall figure with eagle wings on his helmet, instantly a.s.sumed command of all the forces. He ordered several men to dismount and climb the wall of the granary at his right; others trotted toward the left, to ride around the villa, and at the same time they overwhelmed us with a shower of spears. The boar's helm flew from my head, two lances had struck it at the same moment; a third now hit my skull and stretched me on the ground. At that moment, when our eyes were all fixed upon the enemy in front, a man on foot forced his way through our hors.e.m.e.n from the basilica behind. I heard a hoa.r.s.e cry: 'Wait, boy!' and saw the flash of a sword. Ammata fell forward on his knees.
"It was Bleda, the captive Hun. The torn rope still dragged from his ankle. He had wrenched himself free and seized a weapon; before he could draw the sword from the boy's back Thrasaric's spear pierced him through and through. But the n.o.ble had forgotten the foes in front, and no longer struck the flying lances aside. Two spears pierced him at once; he received a deep wound in the thigh and staggered against the wall of the villa.
"A narrow door close beside him opened, and on the threshold stood Astarte. 'Come, my beloved, I will save you,' she said, seizing his arm. 'A secret pa.s.sage from my cellar--'
"But Thrasaric silently shook her off and threw himself before the kneeling boy. For now Herulians and Byzantines, on foot and on horseback, were pressing forward in dense throngs. The door closed.
"I tried to rise, but could not; so, unable to aid, helpless myself, but covered by a dead horse behind which I had fallen, I saw the end. I will make the story brief. So long as he could move an arm, the faithful giant protected the boy with sword and spear; finally, when the spear-head was hacked off, the sword broken, he sheltered the boy with his own body. I saw how he spread the huge bearskin over him as a s.h.i.+eld, and clasped both arms around the child's breast.
"'Surrender, brave warrior,' cried the leader of the Herulians. But Thrasaric--hark! What was that?"
"A groan? Yonder! Does your foot ache, my Gibamund?"
"I made no sound. It was probably a night-bird--outside--before the tent."
"But Thrasaric shook his huge head and hurled his sword-hilt into the face of the nearest Byzantine, who fell, shrieking. Then so many lances flew at the same instant that Ammata sank lifeless on the ground.
Thrasaric did not fall, but stood bending forward, his arms hanging loosely. The Herulian leader went close to him. 'In truth,' he said, 'never have I seen anything like this. The man is dead; but he cannot fall, so many spears, with handles resting on the ground, are fixed in his breast.' He gently drew out several; the strong n.o.ble slid down beside Ammata.
"Our men had fled as soon as they saw us both fall. Past me--I lay as though lifeless swept the foe in pursuit. Not until after a long time, when everything was still, did I succeed in raising myself a little. So I was found beside Ammata by the King, to whom I told the fate of both.
The rest--how he lost the moment of victory, nay, threw away the victory already won, you know."
"We know it," said Hilda, in a hollow tone.
"And where is Ammata--where is Thrasaric buried?" questioned Gibamund.
"Close beside Decimum, in two mounds. The land belongs to a colonist.
According to the custom of our ancestors, our men placed three spears upright upon each hillock. The King's hors.e.m.e.n then carried me back, and placed me on a charger, which bore me through this pitiable flight.
Shame on this Vandal people! They let their princes and n.o.bles fight and bleed--alone! The ma.s.ses have accomplished nothing but a speedy flight."
CHAPTER VIII
The intense darkness of the night was already yielding in the eastern sky to a faint gray glimmer of twilight, but the stars were still s.h.i.+ning in the heavens, when a slender little figure glided noiselessly, but very swiftly, through the streets of the camp.
The s.h.a.ggy dogs watching their masters' tents growled, but did not bark; they were afraid of the creature slipping by so softly. A Vandal, mounting guard at a street-corner, superst.i.tiously made the sign of the cross and avoided the wraith floating past. But the white form approached him.
"Where is Decimum? I mean, in which direction?" it asked in low, hurried tones.
"In the east, yonder." He pointed with his spear.
"How far is it?"
"How far? Very distant. We rode as fast as the horses could run; for fear pursued us,--I really do not know of what,--and we did not draw rein till we reached here. We dashed along six or eight hours before we arrived."
"No matter."
The hurrying figure soon reached the exit of the camp. The guards stationed there let her pa.s.s unmolested. One called after her:
"Where are you going? Not that way! The enemy is there."
"Don't stay long!" a Moor shouted after her; "the evil wind is rising."
But she was already gone. Directly behind the camp she turned from the path marked by many footprints, also by weapons lost or thrown away,--if that name could be given to this track through the desert.
Running several hundred paces south of the line extending from west to east, she plunged into the wilderness, crossing, meanwhile, several high, dome-like sand-hills. These mounds are piled up by the changing winds blowing through the desert in every direction, but most frequently from the south to north; and the narrow sand ravines beside them often, for the distance of a quarter of a league, obstruct the view of the person pa.s.sing through them over the nearest sand-wave.
Not until she believed herself too far from the road to be seen, did she again turn in her original direction, eastward, or what she thought was east. Meantime, it is true, the fiery, glowing rising sun had extinguished the light of the stars and marked the east; but soon thereafter the crimson disk vanished behind vaporous clouds, the exhalations of the desert. She ran on and on and on. She was now entirely within the domain of the desert. There was no longer any distinguis.h.i.+ng object,--no tree, no bush, nothing but sky above and sand below. True, there were sometimes sand valleys, sometimes sand heights, but these, too, were perfectly uniform. On, on she ran. "Only to reach his grave!" she thought. "Only his grave. Always straight on!"
It was so still, so strangely still.
Once only she fancied that she saw, far, far away on her left, corresponding with the "path," hurrying cloud-shadows; perhaps they were ostriches or antelopes. No, she thought she heard human voices calling, but very, very distant. Yet it sounded like "Eugenia!"
Startled, she stooped down close to the sand-hill at her left; it would prevent her being seen from that direction. Even if the valley in which she was now cowering could be overlooked from a hillock, the back of the mound would protect her. "Eugenia!" Now the name seemed to come again more distinctly; the tones were like Hilda's voice. The low, distant sound died tremulously away, sorrowful, hopeless. All was still again. She started up, and ran on breathlessly.
But the fugitive now grew uneasy, because she had lost her direction.
What if she was not keeping a perfectly straight course? Then she thought of looking back. The print of every one of her light footsteps was firmly impressed upon the sand. The line was perfectly straight; she rejoiced over her wisdom. Then she often glanced behind--at almost every hundred steps--to test. Only forward, forward! She was growing anxious. Drops of perspiration had long been falling from her forehead and her bare arms. It was growing hot, very hot, and so strangely sultry--the sky so leaden gray. A light, whistling wind sprang up, blowing from south to north.
Eugenia glanced back again. Oh, horror! She saw no sign of her footsteps. The whole expanse lay behind her as smooth as though she were just starting on her way. As if dazed by astonishment, she stamped on the sand; directly after, before her eyes, the impression was filled up, completely effaced by the finest sand, which was driven by the light breeze.