The Adeling and his followers would probably soon have forced their way through this gate, one of whose wings had already caught fire and was beginning to glow and smoke more and more, while the other was splitting wider and wider under the heavy blows of the axe, had not the battle on the opposite side of the camp taken a turn which was also to prove decisive for the conflict around the Porta Decumana. Scarcely had Bissula fallen unconscious, when down every street in the camp that led from the north toward this southern gate, riders, riderless horses, foot-soldiers, and slaves came rushing in a wild flight with frantic cries.

"Fly," cried a warrior in scale armor, dashing past Herculanus and Davus. "The Barbarians are upon us!"

"The camp is taken!" shouted a Celt, hurrying out of a side street.

"They have climbed over the wall at the PrÆtorian Gate."

"No, the earth opened. Orcus spewed the Barbarians into the middle of the camp!"

"Fly!" shrieked a camp-follower's wife, "I saw Saturninus run down by his own men! All is lost!" And in truth it seemed so.

Ausonius had been waked by Prosper, and while he was arming, Decius, a gallant officer, appeared and in the Tribune's name invited him to undertake the defence of the Porta Principalis Dextra with a cohort of the Twenty second Legion, which had already been ordered there.

"I will accompany you," said he.

"What is the matter? The Barbarians? Are they attacking?"

"Don't you hear them?"

"Yes, of course I do! On which side?"

"On all sides!"

"I will hasten." With these words Ausonius, putting on his helmet, left the tent.

"What is the Tribune's decision?" he asked as they turned to the right into the nearest street. "To make a sally?"

"No! To remain in the camp. It will be defended to the last. There is too great a superiority in the force outside." With these words the two officers reached the legionaries and, followed by them, soon gained the eastern gate of the camp. From here Ausonius sent Prosper to protect Bissula, but also to watch that she did not escape.

Meanwhile Saturninus had convinced himself that, for the moment, no pressing danger threatened the northern or PrÆtorian Gate, and hurrying down the steps inside the wall, he exchanged, his part of warrior for that of Commander. Gathering his officers about him in the open space at the foot of the wall, about a hundred paces north of the pine-tree of the earth-goddess, he curtly issued swift commands. "Let all the horsemen dismount and fight on the walls, except the first squadron of mailed riders; but these are not to dismount--do you hear?--on pain of death, under any pretext. All the riderless horses must be led to the Porta Decumana; for if a sally should be made, or"--he added in a lower tone so that only his officers could hear--"if it should be necessary to leave the camp, we shall go to the south to aid Nannienus. If he be not attacked himself, he will instantly assail the Barbarians in the rear at that gate."

"Help at the Porta Principalis Sinistra!" entreated a horseman dashing from the west.

Saturninus turned to speak to the messenger and, in doing so, turned his back to the pine-tree; but he had scarcely addressed a few words to the man, when a centurion standing behind the General uttered a cry of terror and seized him by the arm: "Look around you, Tribune! There! By the pine-tree! The earth is trembling; the abyss is opening; the altar stones have sprung apart!"

Just at that moment the Barbarians' war-cry: "Odin! Odin! Alemanni!" rang out in the midst of the camp, and Saturninus's face blanched as he saw a gigantic figure in a white helmet, near the pine-tree, strike down with his long spear a Celtic archer, who, shrieking, tried to escape. Three, six, eight, twelve Barbarians had risen from the earth. With a cry of savage fury the brave Roman rushed toward the giant. But he could not reach him, his own soldiers threw him down.

It was a body of the Celts, hot-blooded, brave in assault, but easily disheartened after an unfavorable turn. They saw the foe in the midst of the camp; only a few had noticed whence they came or how small at first was their number. Seized with panic, many throwing away their weapons, they fled in frantic terror.

"Treason! Treason! The enemy is in the camp!" With these shouts a whole troop of fugitives had flung themselves between the Duke and the Roman General. The latter instantly sprang to his feet again.

"Halt, you cowards," shouted the fearless Tribune, again trying to check with flashing sword, the mad rush of the fugitives. "Look around you. There is only a handful of the enemy. And where will you fly? Outside of the camp? Among the greatly superior number of the foe? Only these walls can save you!"

"To the ships! To Nannienus! Across the lake! To Arbor!"

"Then die, you coward!" he cried fiercely, striking down the nearest shouter, a standard bearer of the Celts; and tearing from the falling man the dragon standard, with its fluttering purple streamers, he swung it aloft, crying, "Roma! Roma!" and pressed forward.

For a moment he really succeeded in checking the fugitives. And now the bold little band of intruders was in the utmost peril; then Saturninus's attention was suddenly diverted to the top of the wall.

Many, many of its defenders had turned at the noise behind them, seen German helmets in the midst of the camp, heard the cries of terror from the Celts, and noticed their General himself rush into the midst of the fugitives. They believed that the camp had been taken from the opposite direction, and feared every moment that they would be attacked from the rear. So they leaped from the top of the wall in large numbers or came rushing down the stairs. The besiegers outside, hitherto held in check by a heavy shower of missies, suddenly saw whole ranks of the defenders vanish, whole stretches of the wall left empty and, with wild shouts, they climbed boldly and confidently up the ladders. When the Tribune looked up, the assailants were already springing from the wall in dense masses, hewing down the few Romans who had gathered around him, while the fierce giant's terrible spear struck down one after another.

Saturninus cast one more glance at the top of the wall: countless bands of Barbarians were appearing on it. Then, in a voice whose tones rang above the din of battle, he shouted the order: "Leave the camp! Follow this standard! To the Porta Decumana! Close ranks! If you open them, you will be lost!"

These words had their effect. Often had these soldiers proved that this solid closing of their ranks was the best, nay, the only means of repelling the assault of the Germans. The hope of reaching their comrades on the ships revived their courage; retreating toward the south, fighting as they marched, they followed their trusted leader.

The pursuers from the north and east pressed hotly upon them; but the Romans moving southward received considerable reËnforcements from the east and the west, where the cross streets from both sides ran into the one extending from north to south--the Via Media. Meanwhile the troops defending the eastern and western gates had heard the war-cry of the Alemanni within the camp and the shouts of their own fugitives, and giving up the hopeless resistance, they thronged, according to a standing rule in the camp, into the long central street which led to the Porta Decumana, the gate assigned for the Roman line of retreat.

True, the troops from the western gate, where the assailants had already made considerable progress, poured down in great confusion; but Dedus and Ausonius led the legionaries of the Twenty-second Cohort from the eastern gate in good order. Saturninus saw the two leaders from the distance, but separated by the whole flood of marching men, they could not meet. So the columns, overtaken and pressed by the Barbarians only in the rear, gradually reached in better order the spot where the Via Principalis, near the Decumanian Gate, intersected the long central street leading to it. Here all the baggage, with many hundred carts and wagons, was piled together. Such a barricade, a valuable defence to German bands on the migrations, was the most dangerous obstacle and interruption to the Roman order of marching and fighting; for no matter whether the attempt to pass was made by going around or climbing over it, in either case the firmly closed ranks were broken into little groups, nay sometimes even separated into individual warriors, who were forced to press forward or climb over the wagons one behind another.

But the old Duke had not studied the plan of the camp in vain: he had noted accurately where the baggage, the carts and wagons were placed, and eagerly distributed all the bands of his men who poured toward him. They came from the three gates north, west, and east, which they had long since forced open, and they passed through the streets of the camp in such a manner, as they pressed forward in pursuit, that they pushed from all sides down the long and the cross streets upon the fugitives, just at this exact point.