by Felix Dahn
CHAPTER XV.
The underbrush grew thinner, evidently removed by human hands; a fewsteps more and the pursuer stood in an open space in the forest whichhad been cleared by fire. Here stood a little hut, very roughly builtof unhewn logs: instead of doors two low narrow holes were oppositeeach other. Such buildings were used by hunters for stations, byshepherds overtaken in the forest by storms for a shelter, butespecially to keep quantities of hay which could not be dragged to thedistant barns. That was the case here; heaps of the grass piled instacks could be seen through the holes.
Before Herculanus had reached the hut, an indistinct sound reached hisear from the right, the shore of the lake. He drew his sword andstopped, listening intently. There it came again! Was it a cry? Itseemed like the shout with which Romans on guard gave warning of thepresence of a foe. Directly afterwards he heard another noise: it waslike the whirring of the string in bending and releasing the wood ofthe bow, then came a heavy fall or plunge into the water, and all wasstill again. Nothing but the metallic tapping of the woodpecker brokethe silence of the forest.
Cautiously raising his shield to his eyes and looking watchfully towardthe right, the Roman, with his thin figure drawn to its foil height,waited several seconds longer: nothing stirred.
He now sprang in two bounds across the open ground to the hut of hay,stooped and entered through the northern hole. Something rustled underthe thick grass, which seemed to be alive: something glided beneathit--was it a weasel?--toward the opposite hole: only the waving motionof the bundles of hay betrayed the direction.
Herculanus hastily grasped with his shield arm at the creature makingthe rustling and lifted the broad short sword in his right for adeath-stroke. He seized something warm and drew it upward from the hay,which fell on the right and left as he dragged forward a girl whoseface was covered with tangled red locks and blades of grass, throughwhich she gazed in mortal terror and fiery wrath at her assailant.
So strange, so bewitchingly beautiful was the young creature thatHerculanus uttered a fierce cry of pleasure. He had vowed that thefirst moment he had the dangerous Barbarian alone within reach of hissword, should be her last; and even now he did not really waver in theresolve. Neither pity nor passion could influence a mind fixed solelyon his uncle's wealthy yet so much youthful beauty awakened a fleetingdesire for it: before he stabbed the foe, he would have one kiss fromthose red lips. So, reserving his right hand for the death-blow, hedrew her closer to him with the left. The girl struggled with thestrength of despair. Turning her head as far as possible from him, sheuttered a cry of terror, like a dying fawn. It was only a moment'sdelay of the assassin's thrust, but it saved her.
Before Herculanus could press his lips on her averted face a shadowfell from outside upon the opening toward the lake, where thestruggling figures were now standing. "Murderer!" cried a deep voice;and Herculanus, receiving a severe blow on the breast, staggered back,loosing his hold upon his captive. Swiftly as the trout glides away,the girl tried to slip through the opening; but she felt her arm seizedin the iron grasp of a much stronger hand, and looked up at anotherhelmeted Roman.
"Is it you, Tribune?" stammered Herculanus, hastily thrusting his swordinto the sheath.
The latter did not vouchsafe him a single word. "You are Bissula,little one, are you not?" he asked, gazing with wondering eyes at thestrange vision. A sweet rapture ran through his veins as he saw thelovely little face, the delicate, graceful limbs, the bare white feet,and felt the pulsing of the young life through the round arm his handheld so firmly.
The prisoner made no reply, but she looked up trustfully into theIllyrian's handsome, manly face. Then she cast a strange glance, as ifseeking for some one, back into the hut,--Saturninus had dragged herfrom the doorway into the open air,--and seemed to be listeninganxiously.
"Yes, it is Bissula," said Herculanus, now also coming out. "What madeyou imagine that I wanted to kill her? I have been searching for hersince the earliest dawn."
"So I thought."
"Not for myself; I was only holding her firmly to prevent her escape."
"With a quivering sword uplifted to strike?"
"Only to frighten her."
But Bissula cast a reproachful glance at him.
"However that may be," the Illyrian continued, "she is my captive." Hisglowing eyes rested on her; the girl lowered her long lashes inembarrassment.
"No, no! I discovered her."
"But before you seized her a second time--for she was free again--Icaptured her. Dare to contradict it, you murderer of girls!" and headvanced threateningly toward him.
The sound of a tuba rang from the forest.
"We must return. The tuba gives a sign of warning," said Saturninus."The first trace of the foe has been found--not only the child--a man."
Bissula looked up anxiously.
"He lay covered with skins," the other added, as they moved forward,"hidden among the rushes so that he could not be distinguished from afallen tree. Before we could seize him--"
Bissula uttered a sigh of relief.
"He had vanished in the sedges. A Batavian archer shot an arrow afterhim. Hark! the Prefect is giving the signal again. Come without fear,child."
He led her by the wrist, carefully trying not to hurt her; but sheoften stopped, glancing back at the hut, and once also at the lake.After a few steps they heard the neighing of a horse and soon enteredan opening in the forest, where Ausonius had halted his mounted escort.
"Father Ausonius!" cried the captive joyously, struggling to releaseherself to rush to him.
But the Illyrian's grasp on her arm became like iron. Approaching thePrefect, who held out both arms to Bissula, he made a military salute,saying sternly: "The first encounter with the enemy! A man has escaped:a girl--this one--became my prisoner: my slave."
BOOK TWO
THE SLAVE