With the exception of the two leaders, very few Romans had fallen in the short hand-to-hand combat; for the Bajuvaren duke had before the attack given the order: "To-day--prisoners! No slain! Consider, ye men; every man slain is a loss, every prisoner a servant gained for the new masters of the land!"

Fulvius and Crispus had been among the troops turned by Severus against the Bajuvaren. When their ranks were broken, the nephew cried to the uncle: "To Felicitas! Through the ford!" and as they had stood together, so they now ran together towards the river below the bridge, for that was held by the enemy.

But the stout Crispus, although he had quickly thrown away spear and shield, was soon left far behind the agile stone-mason.

An Alemannian horseman, with a youth running at his side, followed both.

Crispus was soon overtaken.

His ridiculous appearance challenged the rider to give him a blow on the casserole covering his head in the place of a helmet, it fell over his eyes and nose, from which poured a stream of blood, he gave a loud cry and fell to the ground; he thought he was dead.

But he soon came back to the agreeable certainty of life, when the foot-soldier, who had remained by him, roughly tore the casserole from his head. Crispus sprang up, gasping for breath, the German laughed in his big, fat, highly-astonished face.

"Ha! this Roman hero has had good provender. And this nose is not red with its own blood or with water either. Ho, friend, I will set thee free, if thou wilt reveal to me where in Juvavum the best wine can be got. It seems to me thou art the man to know it."

Crispus, so pleasantly spoken to, recovered himself quickly, now that he was quite convinced that he was not dead, and would not have to die for the fatherland.

He drew a deep breath and spoke, raising his hand as an oath:

"I swear as a Roman burgher, Jaffa, the good Jew, near the Basilica, has the sweetest. He is not baptized--but neither is his Falernian.

"Excellent!" cried the Alemannian. "Come, ye friends!"--a whole crowd of Alemanni and Bajuvaren were shaking hands close about him--"to Jaffa the Jew, to drink our gratitude to the god Ziu for our pleasant victory! Thou, fat fellow, lead on, and if, contrary to thine oath, it is sour, this Jew's wine, we will drown thee therein."

But Crispus was not alarmed; he rejoiced, on the contrary, that he would now be able to drink gratis, as much as he wished, of the choicest long-stored Cyprus wine, which hitherto had been quite beyond his means. That it was to be drunk to the honour of the god Ziu did not make the wine worse. "And," said he to himself, "it is at all events better pleasing to God that we empty the Jew's wine-skins than those of a good Christian."

He did not trouble about his house. "They will not interfere with my old Ancilla; her wrinkles will protect her better than many shields. The bit of money is buried; they will not carry away the plaster statues, they will only cut off their noses with great zeal and an incomprehensible liking for the business: it does not matter, one can stick them on again," But he was anxious about Fulvius, about Felicitas.

He looked about for the fugitive, but could not see him either lying dead, or brought in a prisoner; he seemed to be swallowed up by the earth: the rider who had pursued him had turned his horse in another direction, and was pursuing other flying Romans. Crispus hoped that the young husband had escaped. He (Crispus) was quite unable to help Felicitas, for his conqueror held him firmly by the shoulder and pushed him towards the bridge.

"Forward! Thou canst not imagine, Roman, how Alemannian thirst burns. And near the Basilica, sayest thou? That is right! There we shall find, besides, gold and silver cups for the liquor."

And in front of the whole noisy, laughing, shouting swarm, the fat Crispus, an involuntary pot-companion, stumped along as fast as his short legs could carry him, towards the gate through which he had shortly before marched, a proud helmeted legionary. He had left the casserole where it fell, but he was still reminded of it by the smarting of his nose.

In the meantime Fulvius had actually disappeared. He had not thrown away shield and spear, like his corpulent companion; he was young, strong, he had no fear, and he thought of the promise which he had given at his release to the gallant Severus. He had now reached the river and stood firmly on the marshy bank. He heard the hoof-strokes of the galloping horse coming nearer and nearer, and he resolutely turned, looked at the enemy fiercely, raised his spear, took good aim and threw it with all the strength of his arm against the face of the German.

"Well aimed!" cried he, as he dropped the reins, and with his left hand caught the whizzing spear.

The shield of Fulvius would now have availed him little, for the galloping horseman aimed at the same time with both spears, his own and the one he had caught, at the Roman's head and abdomen. But before the deadly lances reached him, Fulvius had suddenly disappeared; in stepping backwards from the snorting horse, that must the next instant have prostrated him, he lost his balance, slipped on the smooth grass, and fell backwards into the stream, the waters of which, dashing up, closed over him. The Alemannian bent down from his steed and looked after him laughing as he was carried away.

"Greet the Danube for me" cried he, "when thou hast reached it;" then turned his horse and galloped across the fields.