The experienced commanders had executed their tasks swiftly, skilfully, and successfully. Arbon, the strongly fortified station of the great military road, had, it is true, been repeatedly attacked, plundered, and set on fire by the Alemanni in swift forays from the lake, but never permanently occupied; they did not like to dwell in cities.

A few years previously Valentinian, Gratianus's warlike father and predecessor, had repaired and strengthened the old walls, increased the garrison, filled the store-houses with provisions, especially grain, and stationed in the harbor a number of ships. These, though neither so numerous nor so stately as those of the Venetian Fleet in the prouder days of Rome, were quite sufficient to prevent the Barbarians from an attack by water, nay, they constantly threatened them with a landing on the northern shore.

The commander of the division intended for this fleet, the Comes of Britannia, Nannienus, a man skilled in nautical matters and an excellent officer, had reached the harbor fortification with his troops very quickly by the excellent road from Windisch. The other column needed a much longer time for its wearisome march, turning finally eastward before it again reached the shore of the lake.

Caution was the first requisite during this advance through the pathless land of the Barbarians; and no measure of prudence was omitted by the well-trained, circumspect leaders. Natives of the country who were perfectly familiar with the region acted as guides; though the southern shore was inhabited exclusively by Roman colonists, they guarded carefully against treachery from that quarter. Horsemen, lightly armed Celtic archers, the Keltae and Petulantes, and Germans familiar with woodland warfare--the Batavians--formed the van and rearguards. In the centre were the heavily armed foot-soldiers of the Imperial Guard, protecting the traders and sutlers, luggage, camp equipage, and provisions. They moved along the ruinous old road, as near the shore as the marshy ground permitted, in order to keep in view of the lake, that they might discover any attempt at an attack by the Barbarians in their boats, and also not lose sight of the opposite shore occupied by the Romans.

The most difficult task was assigned to the left wing which, at the north of the central division and the old road, was to force a passage through forest and morass in a line parallel with that of the main body, and protect it from any flank assault of the foe; for should the latter suddenly burst from an ambush in the impenetrable woods and fall upon the column extended in marching order, the whole body, thus taken by surprise, might be scattered and driven into the marshes and the lake.

But the resistance offered by forest and fen to the progress of the troop seemed destined to remain the sole opposition which the Romans were to encounter; for the latter had not met a single human being since they quitted the southern shore of the lake and the stations along the road there. There were no villages of the Alemanni in this region: the ground was occupied by farms, and the houses (called "Schwaigen") were miles apart. The few lonely dwellings which they passed during a march of several days had been abandoned. A mysterious silence, boding destruction, seemed to brood over the empty wooden buildings.

Everywhere, just before the time of ripening, the grain--oats, barley, and spelt--had been cut and partly burnt; the latter mode was the quicker, and the grain of the Alemanni should not serve their foe even as fodder for his horses. The cattle had been driven away; the kennels of the faithful farm watch, almost always found at the gates, were also empty; the hay and straw were removed from the barns, which were usually connected with the houses and very often formed part of them.

Slowly, with frequent halts, advancing with difficulty, the Romans assigned to the care of the provisions in charge of the troops or the sutlers and their wives struggled forward for several days, each night carefully establishing a well-fortified camp. From the western end of the lake, where it ran into a stretch of marshy ground densely overgrown by rushes, and meadows with sedges waving in the wind, they marched toward the east. Thus, by a toilsome march, they had reached the foot of the steep hill now crowned by the stately castle of Meersburg.

The long August day, during which frequent showers of rain had fallen, though the sky had not been always clouded, was drawing to a close. Again the sun shone brilliantly through a rift, gilding the whole chain of mountain peaks of the Bernese Alps to the Allgau heights; the Sentis glowed in crimson splendor, solemnly, like a king of the mountain giants who had drawn his radiant mantle around his proud shoulders.

The Roman column halted cautiously at the foot of the steep hill, whose rocky sides fell abruptly to the lake and the valley on the west, while the summit, at that time densely covered with trees and bushes, presented a gloomy, threatening aspect. The oak-leaves and pine-needles were dripping with rain, and wherever the sun did not shine on them, looked dark-green, almost black.

Two officers, whose high rank was betokened by the gold and silver ornaments on their equipments, now flashing brightly in the rays of the setting sun, rode slowly toward the hill. Before them, bound by the right and left arms respectively to the stirrups of two mounted soldiers, walked a guide. A few pioneers with axes and spades surrounded the leaders, and a little band of Batavian spearmen followed. One of the officers, a stately man about thirty-five, now checked his heavy Spanish barb and bent forward, his clear-cut bronzed features wearing a keenly watchful expression.

"If I have ever known and fought with Germans," he said with a strong Illyrian accent, "they are hiding in the woods on yonder hill-top, which is a natural fortress. Halt, I beg, Prefect PrÆtor of Gaul. We'll go no farther without reconnoitring. Forward, my brave Batavians. Rignomer, take six men and climb up among the underbrush. But be wary! And you, Brinno, trumpeter, give the signal of warning the instant you discover the foe."

The other officer, a man much his senior, smiled as the order was executed. "You are over-cautious, Saturninus. Always erring on the side of prudence!"

"We cannot be over-cautious against this foe, my noble friend. Had not the Barbarians occupied this fortress erected by the gods of their native land, all courage to offer resistance must have deserted them."

"And it evidently has abandoned them. All taste for war was thoroughly extirpated by the departed hero, Valentinian, and our bold young Emperor, his son. My pupil!" he added complacently. "I am quite sure that all danger to the Empire from the Germans is over."

His companion silently shook his head. Just at that moment a captain of the mailed horsemen, a man numbering about five and twenty years, dashed forward from the centre of the Roman column. Tangled locks hung from beneath his helmet, and his features were ignoble in form and disagreeable in expression.

"Must we cross that accursed cliff. Tribune?" he exclaimed, abruptly checking his horse.

"We must," replied the Illyrian quietly. "I have just learned that our left wing has again found the morass in the forest bottomless, and is approaching along this, our only road. And the waves of the lake are dashing at our right."

The young man cast a doubtful glance at the cliff. "H'm," he muttered, "it will cost us many men. But that's no misfortune," he added, "we have more than enough Barbarians in our pay; if they fall fighting against other Barbarians, there will simply be fewer of the beasts."

"An abominable remark, nephew Herculanus," replied the Prefect reprovingly.

"If the ascent be resisted," said the Tribune, "it will consume much time, and we have none to lose. We ought to have been on the bank of the Ister long ago to fight the Goths. I am anxious about the Emperor Valens. I have a presentiment of evil."

"You are always boding evil," replied the Prefect, smiling, "but the evil never comes, the good fortune of eternal Rome always conquers. Hark, it is the same now. The trumpeter is giving the signal: 'All safe! Forward!' and the Centurion of the Batavians, who climbed the height first--what is his name?--Rignomer, is beckoning to us to follow. Up, friends! Was I not right, my brave Tribune? The Barbarians will make no defence."

"You are right as usual, uncle!" said Herculanus with a smile intended to be pleasant, but which made quite the opposite impression.

"If you only remain right, Ausonius!" said the Illyrian hesitatingly. "Yet at the moment it really does appear so. Up, give the signal with the tubas: Forward! We will pitch our camp for the night on that height, and the land of the Alemanni will be defenceless before us."