After the surging to and fro of the men pressing forward into the circle, the loud voices, and the clank of weapons had somewhat died away, the Duke raised his spear and struck with it three solemn strokes on the bronze shield. Instantly deep silence reigned. "The assembly is opened!" said Hariowald, and slowly took his seat, crossing one foot over the other.

Throwing back the long, full, dark-blue mantle, fastened by a clasp on the left shoulder, he rested his spear like a staff on his right shoulder, and raising his left hand with the fingers extended, said slowly:

Two elderly men stepped forward, drew their swords, raised them toward heaven, and said with long pauses, the words of one always blending with those of the other:

Both withdrew into the circle.

"Before we march forth to the battle against the foe," the Duke now broke the silence, "and we shall set out soon, very soon--"

Loud shouts of joy and rattling of weapons burst forth, which the old noble allowed to die away; then he continued:

"The popular assembly must first pronounce judgment and decide questions of justice and law. First on Fiskulf, the fisherman, from Rohr-Mos, the rush marshes. Where is the accuser?"

Adalo stepped forward hesitatingly.

"Here: I, Adalo, son of Adalger."

"Step to the right. Where is the defendant?"

"Here!" said a man in plain garments; he wore an old fishing net for a girdle. With head bent sorrowfully he came forward, lowering his eyes.

"What is your complaint?" asked the judge.

"Breaking the oath of military duty."

"That is a matter of life and death. Tell me the law: may Adalo, son of Adalger, make such a charge here?"

One of the two old men stepped forward again, and said:

"The assembly knows Adalo, the Adeling, as a free man of unblemished reputation: his estate is in the Linzgau: it would cover any charge of false accusation: he may make complaint in a matter of life and death."

At a sign from the judge the young noble began:

"I make the complaint reluctantly,--against my wish and will,--but my oath requires it. For when I took command of the men of the western shore of the lake, I was obliged to swear on the Duke's hand to denounce before the assembly any breach of his orders that might occur in my troop. So speak I must, for I fear to break the oath. You all know that the Duke forbade, on pain of death, the lighting of a fire by day or night in any of the boats where the fugitives from the country at first lay concealed among the rushes on the western shore: if the Romans, while passing, discovered by smoke or flame that there were people living in the wide marshy forests, all who were hidden there might be lost. When I set out, I repeated the Duke's command to all my men; Fiskulf was standing on my shield side. And yet, while the foe was passing along the shore he lighted a fire on the Pike Stone which rises above the reeds. True, it was daylight, but the smoke was visible. The nearest cohort had halted and was preparing to look for the fire, which I with difficulty put out in time to lull their suspicions. I must now accuse Fiskulf of this breach of orders."

He paused and drew back a step. A murmur of indignation ran through the ranks, blended with many a loud cry of anger and reproach.

"Silence, all! Silence in the circle, until I ask your judgment," shouted the Duke from his lofty stone seat, raising his spear aloft. "I forbid reproaches; I command peace. You, Fiskulf, what say you to the charge? Denial, or confession?"

"Confession," replied the fisherman sorrowfully. "It is as the Adeling said."

"You knew the command?"

"I knew it."

"You broke the command?"

"I broke it. Alas, I am so deeply ashamed. It was from hunger--but not to satisfy my own. We had lain hidden in the marshland forest for many nights; the stock of dried fish I had brought in the boat was exhausted. I repressed my hunger and chewed the tops of the young reeds. I would not have done it for myself; but my boy, who was with me (he had just recovered from the fever that lurks in the swamps, and he is only seven years old), cried so bitterly with hunger, begging and pleading: 'Father, father, give me something to eat!' It cut me to the heart! I speared a large pike that was sunning itself near the stone, cut it in pieces, and meant to give it to the child to eat. But loathing choked him: he only cried quietly and no longer entreated me. Then I rubbed two dry sticks together till I kindled a fire, broiled the fish on the top of the stone, and gave it to the boy to eat. I ate some myself, too."

"I was forced to accuse him," said Adalo. "But I entreat the assembly not to punish the man. No harm came from his act. A father--"

"Silence, Accuser," the judge interrupted. "You have made the complaint; he has confessed: you have nothing more to do here except to listen to the sentence. I ask: what may follow breaking an order given to the troops when the enemy is in the country? What? You are silent? The disobedience might destroy the whole nation. What? You refuse to point out the law," the old man went on indignantly. "Or do you gray-beards no longer know what the boys learn? Answer! Point out the law,--" he rose threateningly,--"or I will tear the shield of the assembly from the ash and complain to the gods: The Alemanni have forgotten the laws of their people! What is the punishment of treason and breaking the oath of service?"

"Death!" now rang forth in many voices.

"I knew it," said the fisherman quietly. "Farewell, countrymen. I wish you victory and prosperity."

But the Duke continued:

"What death must he die? By the willow-withe? By water? By the red stroke of the knife? Or by the red flame of burning branches?"

One of the two old men stepped forward again, saying: "By his deed he has offended Zio the war-god and Odin the giver of victory. Zio demands blood upon the stone of sacrifice; Odin's will is that he shall blow in the wind. Odin is the greater god and the father of Zio: the lesser yields to the greater; the son to the father. Odin's right is first: the oath-breaker is consecrated to Odin, He shall be hung by willow ropes under the chin, with his face toward the north, from the withered yew, a wolf at his right hand and a wolf at his left--the oldest symbols of quarrelsome, reckless lawbreakers."

"He is consecrated to Odin," the judge repeated solemnly--"if Odin desires him. We will ask the god."

All gazed in astonishment, the fisherman with a faint thrill of hope, at the old man, who now continued:

"It is dishonorable and shameful for the man to swing among the branches, between the sky and the mountain top. And hitherto he has been brave--only he could not be strong enough to bear the weeping of his child. He will die useless to his people, if he hang high aloft on the tree. Well then, we will ask Odin if, perchance, he will forgive him. You all, like the accuser himself, at first wished to let the act pass unpunished. That will not do. To the Lofty One we must offer his right; but--perhaps--he will not take it. I advise that Fiskulf shall venture upon a deed in which, for his people's welfare, he will fall, inevitably fall, unless Odin himself take pity on him and bear him away in his floating mantle."

"Speak, speak! What may I do?" cried the fisherman, with sparkling eyes. "All! All! Gladly will I die by the spear. Only not the rope of shame!"

"You shall be the first, in advance of all the others, to leap on the proudest Roman galley and--you understand how to kindle flames so well--set fire to its sails."

"Yes, yes! That he shall! Hail to the Duke!" shouted thousands of voices.

Fiskulf sprang forward to the judge's chair, lifted both hands to him, and cried: "I thank thee, Duke! Ay, thou knowest the will of Odin! The proudest Roman galley--the General's vessel in Arbor, is it not? Well: I do not yet know how I am to reach the ship on the other side of the lake; but I will die, or accomplish it."

"I will provide for that," said the Duke. "You need not go to the ship: Odin will bring the galley to you! Then do as I have told you."

"Gladly! Gladly! Oh, give me back my weapons!"

At a sign from the judge the heralds restored to him the spear and shield marked F, which lay on the stone steps, and he returned to the circle of his comrades, many of whom clasped his hand.