Theodoric and Childebert entered into an alliance, took oath not to march against one another, and mutually received hostages for the better observance of the terms of their treaty. Among these hostages were many of the sons of senators, who, when the kings unfortunately began to quarrel again, were reduced to servitude, and became the slaves of those in whose guardianship they had been placed. Many of them, however, contrived to escape, and but a few

were kept in servitude for any length of time. Among the latter was Attalus, nephew of Gregory, Bishop of Langres. He had been sold as a slave to the State, and had been employed in the care of horses under a certain barbarian in the district of Treves. Some servants of Bishop Gregory, who had been sent in search of the youth, and had discovered his whereabouts, tried to buy his freedom from the barbarian; but he refused their modest offerings, on the ground that a person so illustrious as his captive ought to pay at least ten pounds’ weight of gold for his ransom. On the return of these emissaries, one of them named Leon, employed in the bishop’s kitchen, said to his master, “God grant that your lordship give me permission to make the attempt, and perhaps I shall be able to redeem Attalus yet.”

The bishop consented, and Leon set out for Treves. He tried at first to get the young man away secretly, but this was impossible. He then deliberately caused himself to be sold to the barbarian, offering the price of the transaction as a reward to the man who had pretended to be his owner. The buyer asked what the new slave could do. “I am a very clever cook,” replied Leon; “I can serve everything fit for the table of a great lord; and I don’t believe that my equal in this science is to be found anywhere. I dare venture to say that if my master wanted to entertain the king, he could not do better than order me to invent him a right royal feast.”

“Sunday is coming,” said the barbarian, “and on that day I am going to invite my friends and relations. I want you to prepare a banquet for me which will excite their admiration.”

The Sunday came, and the new slave served one of his choicest repasts, which so pleased his master that he at once took him into high favour, and made him almost the second person in the household. At the end of about a year he was so trusted that he was enabled one day, without exciting suspicion, to walk after Attalus into a meadow near the house, and to begin a conversation with him, though they took the precaution of sitting back to back and at some distance from one another. “It is time,” said Leon to the young man, “that we began to think of our country; and I have come to you to give you warning not to go to sleep to-night after you have put up your horses, but to be ready to leave this place the moment you hear me call.”

The barbarian was in the meanwhile feasting at his own table with a number of his relations and a son-in-law, to whom he wished to do especial honour. As they left the table at midnight to go to bed, Leon followed this son-in-law to his apartment, and presented him with a cup of wine.

“You are very high in the confidence of my father-in-law,” said the son-in-law, jocularly; “but, suppose you had the power, when would you have the will to jump on the back of one of his horses, and make a dash for your own country?”

“I hope to do it to-night, please God,” said Leon, adopting the same tone of pleasantry, with great self-possession.

“Then, please God too,” returned the other, laughing, “my servants will keep a sharp look out, for I must see that you don’t take away any property of mine;” and they left one another in this pleasant way.

When the whole household was asleep, Leon softly called Attalus, whose horses were ready saddled, and asked him if he had a sword. “I have nothing but a small spear,” said Attalus.

Leon went straight into his master’s room, and took down his sword and buckler, not without awakening him, however, for he called out to know who was there. “Only Leon,” replied the slave; “I am going to wake Attalus, to make sure of his being up in time to take the horses to grass, for he is as sound asleep as a drunken man.”

“Oh! is that all?” murmured the master; “very well,” and he turned over and went to sleep again.

Leon stole out, and gave the weapons to the young man; and, by nothing less than a miracle, found the doors of the court-yard open, though they had been closed at nightfall, with heavy iron wedges, for the better security of the horses. They both gave thanks to God, and at once made off, taking with them all the horses, and their few personal effects as slaves. But at Moselle they were obliged to leave both horses and effects behind for fear of awakening the suspicion of some persons they overtook there; and once rid of these encumbrances, they easily gained the opposite bank of the river by floating over on their bucklers. The darkness favoured them; and they soon found shelter and concealment in a forest. They stayed there till they had been three whole days and nights without tasting food, till at length, by the special favour of Providence, they found a plum-tree, the fruit of which served to satisfy their more pressing and immediate wants. They then started with renewed strength on their journey, and took the road to Champagne. They had not gone far when they heard the sound of hoofs, and they hastily hid themselves in a thicket of brier, taking care, however, to draw their swords, so as to be ready to defend themselves in the last extremity. A moment after a number of horsemen drew up at the thicket, and one of them was heard to say, “Why cannot we find these wretches? I swear if I came across them, I would hang the one and hack the other in pieces with my sword.” It was the voice of the barbarian, their master, who had ridden from Rheims in search of them, and who would certainly have found them on the way if the darkness had not been in their favour. The troop then pushed forward again, and the sound of their hoofs was soon lost in the distance.

The two fugitives resumed their journey, reached Rheims at nightfall, and asked the first person they met in the city the way to the house of the priest Pantellus. It was Sunday, and as they went through the great square on their way to the house, the bell sounded for matins. When they entered the priest’s dwelling, Leon disclosed to the good man the name and rank of Attalus. “My dream is made out,” said the overjoyed father; “for this very night in my sleep I saw two doves fly towards my threshold, and perch upon my hand, and one of them was a white one and the other black.” (The reader will bear in mind that Leon was a negro). “God forgive us,” replied the slave, “for not paying due observance to his holy day.” (On Sunday no one took nourishment till after mass.) “But we entreat you give us something to eat, for this is the fourth time we have seen the sun rise without breaking our fast.”

The priest hid the two young men, gave them some bread steeped in wine, and went to matins.

The barbarian, by-and-by, appeared on the scene, still in hot and eager pursuit of his slaves; but he had to go away again without them, for the priest deliberately put him on a wrong scent, out of his great friendship for Bishop Gregory. They then sat down to the uninterrupted enjoyment of a good meal; and they remained two days with the good priest until they had quite recruited their strength, and were enabled to pursue their journey towards their own home, which they reached without any further trouble. The bishop, transported with joy at the sight of them, fell weeping on the neck of Attalus: and as a special mark of his gratitude to the preserver of his nephew, he gave Leon and all his family their freedom, with as much land as sufficed for their subsistence for the rest of their days. (Histoire EcclÉsiastique des Francs, bk. iii., ch. xv., translated by M. Henri Bordier.)

Attalus afterwards became Count of Autun.