"Tell me everything once more, Zercho," he said earnestly, "until Waldrun has recovered and can add what you did not see. I have not yet clearly understood the one thing upon which all depends."

The bondman was now crouching beside the fire, trying to keep the smoke from the white-haired woman with the wolf-skin he wore for a cloak. It did not annoy her at all, but it helped him to avert his eyes from the youth's searching gaze.

"It happened in this way, handsome neighbor. Directly after you leaped down the slope in anger,--I saw it from the stable,--the little red sprite ordered me to bury the master's coins (alas, there are very few of them!) and the brass vessels and broken-handled jug which he obtained three winters ago at Brigantium. I had already driven the cow, the sheep, and the goats into the alder thicket.

"The next day I was to take the young mistress and her grandmother into the marshes to Suomar, the master. But alas, the hot and cold cat, which invisibly shakes the body like a mouse, often springs upon the good old mistress. So it was the next day. The sufferer could hardly stir her aged limbs from the couch; her strength was as feeble as a dying torch; I almost had to carry her. But I could do this only on solid ground: in the forest marshes I should have sunk with my burden--strong bones weigh heavily. So, in the forest, the blind woman was obliged to walk by herself, leaning on her staff and guided by the little elf, while I jumped from stone to stone in advance, seeking the best path. But just before we reached the hay hut, the grandmother fell; she could no longer stand or walk. We carried her in. You know the entrance to the old cave is just beside the left corner post. Down below there it was safe, warm, and for her no darker than above. We spent the rest of the day and the night in it. Bissula, in spite of every warnings would not leave the old woman and go on with me.

"She had brought some milk in a goat-skin, and rye bread. I watched outside near the hut. In the gray dawn I stole back westward toward the edge of the forest to watch for the helmeted Romans. Soon I saw a small band of mounted men dash straight to Suomar's dwelling. I had hidden our old log boat and the oars among the thickest rushes and meant to row it through the marsh as near the hut as possible, carry the sick woman to it, and then try to take my two mistresses to Suomar by way of the lake. But when I reached the shore I saw several ships--their lofty prows and triangular sails marked them as Roman galleys--moving from Arbor on the opposite side toward our shore. They would soon be very near. The way by the water was barred; but at the right, from the west, I already heard the trampling of horses through the marshes and meadows close beside me.

"Two men with arrows and long bows in their right hands dashed by, not a spear's length distant. I crouched among the rushes, nay in the swamp to my lips; but in doing so I startled the great egret that always fishes there. As, screaming loudly--silly bird--he soared upward over the rushes, he attracted the attention of the riders to himself and, unluckily, to me too. They saw my head. A bow whirred, an arrow whizzed through my otter cap and grazed my head. The wound wasn't deep; Zercho's skull is hard, Suomar often says so, and this time, it was a good thing. I now swam out into the lake, diving like a duck as long as I could hold my breath.

"When I was forced to rise, the men had disappeared. Cautiously as the fox stealing after the mouse, I crept on all fours through the thickest rushes nearer to the land, in the direction of the hut, but making a wide circuit. Then I saw two Romans in glittering armor step into the clearing in the forest: one was leading the young mistress by the arm--"

Adalo heard this for the second time, but he again sighed deeply.

"A horse neighed behind us, and on it sat the clever old man who a few winters ago read to the little one in Arbor from many, many parchments, oh, such a long, horribly long time--while I was obliged to wait to row her back across the lake."

"Are you perfectly sure," asked Adalo, seizing the bondman by the shoulder and forcing him to turn his averted face, "that this horseman was the old Roman?"

"Well, he isn't so very old," replied the Sarmatian evasively, "though he has grown somewhat grayer since that summer."

"Answer," cried Adalo angrily. "Can you swear that the rider was Ausonius?"

"Ausonius! Yes, yes, that is what she always called him. Father Ausonius. And that's what she cried out yesterday when she saw him: 'Father Ausonius!' she shrieked."

He broke off abruptly and began to rub his head (the wound suddenly seemed to pain him) muttering meanwhile in his Sarmatian dialect, which Adalo did not understand.

"So it was really he," sighed Adalo. "And I must thank the gods for having led her to him."

"Freya will reward you for it," said the blind woman suddenly, raising herself on her left arm and groping with her right hand in the direction of the voice until she reached the youth's head and stroked his long locks. "The dwellers in Asgard will repay you for such thoughts."

"Must I not cherish them, Mother? Oh, if you could only sit up again!"

"Your drink, the Romans' drink, cheers the weary soul."

"Ausonius will protect her from the others. But," Adalo went on angrily, "who will defend her from Ausonius? She was tenderly attached to him."

"As a child to its father."

"Be it so--at that time. But now the maiden will owe him gratitude for everything, even the highest boon."

During this conversation Zercho had repeatedly looked thoughtfully at both; now he scratched himself behind the ear and was about to make some remark, but changed his mind and remained silent.

"Against my warning," said the old woman, continuing the bondman's story, "the child had glided away from my side out of the cellar into the hut. She grew tired of waiting in the dark hole for Zercho's return. Suddenly I heard a man's heavy step above me; then a shriek from the little one, which made me tremble. But by the time I had groped my way to the stone slab and lifted it, all was still. I vainly called her name. Soon Zercho came with the news that he had seen her led away captive. We sorrowfully waited for the darkness. My fever had left me; I could walk slowly, but faithful Zercho sought our cow and found her among the tall reeds in the swamp, lifted me upon her and, by a wide circuit through the forest, brought me here."

"For I had seen Italian galleys between the forest hut and Suomar in the eastern marshes," remarked the Sarmatian. "The enemy was reconnoitring there, so I tried to reach the mountain, as my mistress preferred."

"Yes; for since Suomar, my son, cannot be reached, it is you, Adalo, of all the men of our people, our kind neighbor, the playfellow of her childhood, to whom I must lament. The dear one is a captive: help--rescue--liberate her."

The youth passed his hand sadly over his beautifully arched eyebrows. "Yes," he thought, with bitter grief, "a captive through the fault of her own defiance and obstinacy." But he said nothing, only thinking: "It will be a difficult task. If it depended upon me--from the moment I heard it I would have stormed the Idisenhang so constantly and fiercely that the Italians would have had neither inclination nor leisure to torment the child. Or to win her," he added bitterly. "But the army is under the sole command of my cousin Hariowald, the Duke. I cannot--"

Here a low growl interrupted him: he turned and saw a singular spectacle.