The Scarlet Banner. Felix Dahn

blow and gave my terrified child back to me."

      "And the ravisher?"

      "He rose, laughed, shook himself, and said to Gelimer: 'You did right, Asding, and your fist is heavy.' And then since--"

      "Well? You hesitate."

      "Yes, just think of it; since then the Vandal, as he could not gain her by force, is suing modestly for my daughter's hand. He, the richest noble of his nation, wishes to become my son-in-law."

      "Why, that is no bad outlook."

      "Princess Hilda, my girl's patroness--she often sends for the child to come to her at the Capitol and pays liberally for her embroideries--Princess Hilda herself speaks in his behalf. But I hesitate; I will not force her on any account."

      "Well, what does she say?"

      "Oh, the Barbarian is as handsome as a picture. I almost believe--I fear--she likes him. But something holds her back. Who can read a girl's heart? Look, the leaders of the horsemen are dismounting--Gelimer too--in front of the basilica."

      "Strange. He is the hero,--the square echoes with his name,--and he looks so grave, so sad."

      "Yes, there again! But did you see how kindly his eyes shone as he soothed the frightened child?"

      "Certainly I did. And now--"

      "Yes, there it is; a black cloud suddenly seems to fall upon him. There are all sorts of rumors about it among the people. Some say he has a demon; others that he is often out of his mind. Our priests whisper that it is pangs of conscience for secret crimes. But I will never believe that of Gelimer."

      "Was he always so?"

      "It has grown worse within a few years. Satanas--Saint Cyprian protect us--is said to have appeared to him in the solitude of the desert. Since that time he has been even more devout than before. See, his most intimate friend is greeting him at the basilica."

      "Yonder priest? He is an Arian; I know it by the oblong, narrow tonsure."

      "Yes," replied the Carthaginian, wrathfully, "it is Verus, the archdeacon! Curses on the traitor!" He clinched his fists.

      "Traitor! Why?"

      "Well--renegade. He descends from an ancient Roman senatorial family which has given the Church many a bishop. His great-uncle was Bishop Laetus of Nepte, who died a martyr. But his father, his mother, and seven brothers and sisters died under a former king amid the most cruel tortures, rather than abjure their holy Catholic religion. This man, too,--he was then a youth of twenty,--was tortured until he fell as if dead. When he recovered consciousness, he abjured his faith and became an Arian, a priest,--the wretch!--to buy his life. Soon--for Satan has bestowed great intellectual gifts upon him--he rose from step to step, became the favorite of the Asdings, of the court, suddenly even the friend of the noble Gelimer, who had long kept him coldly and contemptuously at a distance. And the court gave him this basilica, our highest sanctuary, dedicated to the great Cyprian, which, like almost all the churches in Carthage, the heretics have wrested from us."

      "But look--what is the hero doing? He is kneeling on the upper step of the church. Now he is taking off his helmet."

      "He is scattering the dust of the marble stairs upon his head."

      "What is he kissing? The priest's hand?"

      "No, the case containing the ashes of the great saint. He is very devout and very humble. Or shall I say he humiliates himself? He shuts himself up for days with the monks to do penance by scourging."

      "A strange hero of Barbarian blood!"

      "The hero blood shows itself in the heat of battle. He is rising. Do you see how his helmet--now he is putting it on again--is hacked by fresh blows? One of the two black vulture wings on the crest is cut through. The strangest thing is,--this warrior is also a bookworm, a delver into mystic lore; he has attended the lectures of Athenian philosophers. He is a theologian and--"

      "A player on the lyre, too, apparently! See, a Vandal has handed him a small one."

      "That is a harp, as they call it."

      "Hark, he is touching the strings! He is singing. I can't understand."

      "It is the Vandal tongue."

      "He has finished. How his Germans shout! They are striking their spears on their shields. Now he is descending the steps. What? Without entering the church, as the others did?"

      "Yes, I remember! He vowed, when he shed blood, to shun the saint's threshold for three days. Now the horsemen are all mounting again."

      "But where are the foot soldiers?"

      "Yes, that is bad--I mean for the Vandals. They have none, or scarcely any: they have grown not only so proud, but so effeminate and lazy that they disdain to serve on foot. Only the very poorest and lowest of the population will do it. Most of the foot soldiers are Moorish mercenaries, obtained for each campaign from friendly tribes."

      "Ah, yes, I see Moors among the soldiers."

      "Those are men from the Papua mountain. They plundered our frontiers for a long time. Gelimer attacked their camp and captured their chief Antalla's three daughters, whom he returned unharmed, without ransom. Then Antalla invited the Asding to his tent to thank him; they concluded a friendship of hospitality,--the most sacred bond to the Moors,--and since then they have rendered faithful service even against other Moors. The parade is over. See, the ranks are breaking. The leaders are going to the Capitol to convey to King Hilderic the report of the campaign and the booty. Look, the crowd is dispersing. Let us go too. Come back to my house; Eugenia is waiting to serve the evening meal. Come, Hegelochus."

      "I am ready, most friendly host. I fear I may burden you a long time. Business with the corn-dealers is slow."

      "Why are you stopping? What are you looking at?"

      "I'm coming. Only I must see this Gelimer's face once more. I shall never forget those features, and all the strange, contradictory things which you have told me about him."

      "That is the way with most people. He is mysterious, incomprehensible,--'daimonios,' as the Greeks say. Let us go now! Here! To the left--down the steps."

CHAPTER III

       Table of Contents

      High above, on the Capitolium of the city, towered the Palatium, the royal residence of the Asdings; not a single dwelling, but a whole group of buildings. Originally planned as an acropolis, a fortress to rule the lower city and afford a view over both harbors across the sea, the encircling structures had been but slightly changed by Genseric and his successors; the palace remained a citadel and was well suited to hold the Carthaginians in check. A narrow ascent led up from the quay to a small gateway enclosed between solid walls and surmounted by a tower. This gateway opened into a large square resembling a courtyard, inclosed on all sides by the buildings belonging to the palace; the northern one, facing the sea, was occupied by the King's House, where the ruler himself lived with his family. The cellars extended deep into the rocks; they had often been used as dungeons, especially for state criminals. On the eastern side of the King's House, separated from it only by a narrow space, was the Princes' House, and opposite to this, the arsenal; the southern side, sloping toward the city, was closed by the fortress wall, its gateway and tower.

      The handsomest room on the ground-floor of the Princes' House was a splendidly decorated, pillared hall. In the centre, on a table of citrus wood, stood a tall, richly gilded jug with handles, and several goblets of different forms; the dark-red wine exhaled a strong fragrance. A couch, covered with a zebra skin, was beside it, on which, clinging together in the most tender embrace, sat "the handsomest of the Vandals" and a no less beautiful young woman. The youth had laid aside his helmet, adorned with the silvery wing-feathers of the white heron; his long locks fell in waves upon his shoulders and mingled with the light golden hair of his young