Ebarbold wished to cast a venomous glance at him, but was forced to lower his eyes in the presence of such lofty dignity. His lips curled bitterly as he replied:

"Beware, Hariowald. Your title is Duke, not King; and your reign ends when this war is over. According to your desire, it seems, one man must rule the Alemanni. From the earliest days we have had kings and counts of the provinces; but woe betide us if all the districts ever become the slaves of one king of the people."

"Are the gods slaves because one rules them as king?" The old Duke's voice sounded threatening.

Ebarbold answered evasively: "But here on earth we Alemanni have equal rights. And rather than--"

"Why do you hesitate?" asked Adalo angrily.

"He hesitates because he shrinks from uttering his thoughts. But the Lofty One gave me the power to read the minds of men upon their brows like explained runes."

Flushing and paling, Ebarbold started up.

"This son of Ebur thinks," the Duke continued, "that rather than obey a king of the Alemanni he would serve the CÆsar."

Now Adalo sprang from his seat.

"And suppose it were so," cried Ebarbold, "would you prevent it? In a few weeks, when the leaves fall, your command of the army will end. But meanwhile--"

"Meanwhile I counsel you to obey."

"You?"

"Not me," the old man answered, with immovable composure, "but the Council which rules all the provinces--even yours, the Ebergau and its King. But sit down again, hot-tempered hero! And Adalo, hand him from the wall of the tent where it hangs, the mead horn. The heron of forgetfulness will rustle over our heads, bearing away on its wings the words of wrath and discord."

The two young men took their seats again. While the wild bull's horn, tipped at both ends with bronze, was passing around the circle, Ebarbold said: "Even if we should conquer this time and drive this band of Romans from the country--we have learned the lesson often enough--others will come to avenge those who are defeated. So it has been for many generations."

"But so it will be no longer," the Duke answered slowly. "That is provided for. The evil she-wolf is surrounded by too many dogs at once. She can no longer raise her left paw to aid her right: the Goth is holding it firmly on the Danube, and she is still scarcely able to escape the bite of the Franconians on the Rhine."

"The Goths?" said Ebarbold. "Who knows whether they will be in the field this year?"

"I do," replied the Duke quietly.

"Can you see from here to Thrace?" sneered Ebarbold: "I cannot."

"But there is One who, from his throne in the clouds, overlooks all countries: and he revealed it to me."

"But I see the misery the Romans have wrought around us in our own land," the King continued. "My people have suffered heavily. The cohorts in passing through burned all the dwellings. My own hall too."

"We will rebuild them," cried Adalo, laughing, as he hung the horn on the wall. "The forest will not refuse trees to its people. My home below on the hillock beside the lake"--his face now grew grave--"is dear to me; sacred the hearth beside which I sat in my dear mother's lap while my father, skilled in the music of the harp, sung of the gods and the deeds of our own ancestors. The Centurion will probably soon hurl the torch into the ancient dwelling of my family with the rune of the stag's antlers. Never more can I hope to mount the high seat where I was so often allowed to fill my father's drinking horn. But though through all the future years I should have no other shelter for this head than the waving boughs of the woods, never will I yield to the Italians."

"Yield? The purpose is only to confirm a treaty such as we have often made."

"And the Romans as often broken," said Adalo.

"Or we ourselves. What is asked of us? Young men to fight the CÆsar's battles. We have more than we can feed. In return they will give us red gold."

"May Hel swallow up this gold and these treaties!" cried Hariowald. "For generations they have sold to our ancient foe our heart's blood and our young heroes, who were used against ourselves and our neighbors. If the hundreds of thousands who fell for Rome had banded together against Rome, we should have watered our long-maned horses long ago in the Gallic sea. But we will not cast aside your words, Ebarbold. Perhaps I may even consent to send an envoy to the Roman camp for peace!"

"What! Is that your wish?" cried Adalo impetuously.

"My wish will appear."

"To offer peace? Let them retire? With their booty?"

"It will not be hard to carry." Here a smile which lent the old Duke's lips a wonderful charm hovered around them. "Six pots in Iburninga and a broken mead vessel in Mariswik; so two old women complained to me."

"And the prisoners!" Adalo reminded him.

"They have only one, I hear," Ebarbold remarked, "the child of a small farmer."

"No matter, she is a free maiden, a daughter of our race," cried Adalo, with blazing eyes. "She has a right to the protection of her people."

"Protection? A captive! What can we--"

"Release her with the sword--or avenge her."

"Commence, for the sake of one woman, the conflict which will destroy the people?"

"You are right," said the Duke slowly. "Women as well as men must be sacrificed for the welfare of the nation. Let her stay where she is--little Bissula."

"What, Bissula?" asked Ebarbold, startled. "Albfledis, whom they call Bissula? The beautiful red elf?"

"You know her?" Adalo asked.

"Who has not heard of her? She is talked of along the whole shore of the lake, and in such a way that the listener is anxious to see her. I too grew curious and tried to get a look at her lately, at the last sun-festival. It is a pity about her. By Freya's eyes, a great pity! But peace is worth more."

"Certainly," said Hariowald, "and victory still more."

"Victory is certain," exclaimed Adalo.

"Do you think so?" replied the old man reprovingly. "I do not. Not yet," he corrected himself.

"Lead us to the attack on the Roman camp! Our men are pouring here in dense throngs since you sent the blood-red arrow from house to house."

"There are not yet enough. The army still lacks many men from distant provinces situated far away toward the north and the east: Alpgau, Albwins-Bar, Wisentgau, and Draggau."

"Do not calculate! Dare!"

"I am doing so; but I also consider the firmness of the Roman camp."

"But meanwhile our foes are strengthening themselves too. Their proud galleys already lie anchored opposite in Arbor; they will soon bring fresh cohorts over."

"Let them do so." The old Duke laughed softly; his look expressed a grim, mysterious joy. "Meanwhile," he added after a pause, "I will send an envoy to the foe to-morrow."

"Send me!" exclaimed Ebarbold eagerly.

"No. Adalo, you will go."

"He! He will not bring back peace."

"No, but keen scrutiny, and--" he whispered to the youth--"perhaps Bissula."

"Thanks! Thanks!"

"I," cried Ebarbold wrathfully, "would surely bring home to our people--"

"Subjection!" said the Duke. "That is just what you must not do. If the Italians reject fair proposals, then I will ask the Council of the people, the whole army, for its decision--"

"I know in advance," Ebarbold angrily interrupted, "what they will determine, guided by you, you disciple of Odin, you giver of victims to Zio! But your decision is one thing; it is another--"

He checked the word on his tongue and hesitated.

"That you will do, you wish to say. King of the Ebergau! I warn you, Ebarbold. Your father was a gallant hero; he fell by my side twenty winters ago in the murderous battle against Julian. Remembering him, I once more warn you: beware!"

"Look to yourself," cried Ebarbold angrily. "You are not my guardian!"

Springing up, he rushed out of the tent.