Part 5 (1/2)

And the two men hastened as fast as feet could carry them, down the high-road to the town, towards the Porta Vindelica.

In the meanwhile Felicitas went slowly back to the house, often stopping to look back at her husband until he had disappeared from view.

”What may they be doing?” said she quietly, bending her beautiful head.

”Well, they are good: the holy ones are with them. The sun is now set behind Vindelicia. But in the forest the sweet bird still sings his evening song: how peaceful! how quiet! I will go to the bed of my little one. I can wait there most calmly; Fulvius will come back before night. For he loves us--yes, he loves us much, my little son!”

She then entered the house.

CHAPTER V.

But Fulvius did not come back that night.

When he and Crispus had pa.s.sed through the Porta Vindelica, and had turned into the Via Augustana, in which stood the church of Saint Peter and the little house of the priest, they noticed Zeno, who was knocking at the door of a magnificent building at the other end of the street.

It was the house of the Judge.

”He is using despatch,” said Crispus. ”It is well that we are already here.” And he touched the knocker, which in shape like a cross hung on the small door of the priest's house.

”He will manage all through the Judge, who is his son-in-law,” said Fulvius, anxiously.

”And deeply indebted to the usurer. That holds everything together, like sticky mud.”

The door was opened, and a slave led them through a long, narrow pa.s.sage, dimly lighted by an oil lamp in a little niche in the wall, to the room of the priest; drew back the curtain, and ushered in the two guests.

The half-dark room was almost void of furniture: the lid of a large chest served as a table, on it stood writing materials; on the walls one saw a lamb, a fish, a dove, very roughly sketched and painted a red colour.

Johannes, although in conversation with two priests, immediately turned towards them; a meagre form, upright, in spite of his seventy years, by the force of a strong, enthusiastic will; a gray Capuchin dress, tied round the loins with a cord, was all his attire; a silver ring of white hair, which shone like a nimbus, encircled his head. A long white beard fell low on his breast.

”A moment's patience, dear friends,” said he. ”The business of my brothers here is urgent; you see, they have the traveller's hat and staff--but it will soon be concluded. Thou, Timotheus, wilt return to-night to thy post. It is well that thou hast given the warning; but only the hireling forsakes his flock, the good shepherd remains constant to it.”

”I go,” said the one addressed, a young subdeacon, blus.h.i.+ng quite abashed: ”I certainly did not wish to run away from the barbarians--I only wished”----

”To give a warning, certainly. And then, perhaps, the spirit of cowardice suggested this to thee--that Johannes would keep thee here within the safe walls of this fortress. But I say to thee: 'Except the Lord keep the city, the watchman waketh but in vain.' And if the troubles of war come over the poor people out there, thy consolations will be needed. Go with G.o.d, my son, back to thy cell at Isunisca.”

”Are the barbarians already so near?” cried Crispus, alarmed.

”Apparently; at least, brother Timotheus heard, three nights ago, hors.e.m.e.n ride by his cell with unshod steeds. Those were not Romans.”

”They were the night-riders, the G.o.ds of the heathen, led by Wotan, the devil chief, whom our fathers named Teutates, but the Romans Mercurius,” said Bojorix, the deacon, an older man, and he trembled for fear.

”Hardly,” said Johannes, with a quiet smile, ”for afterwards in clear day, one of these night-phantoms, with a long flowing gray beard, and clad in a wolf's skin, dashed into a company of armed merchants at the bridge across the Inn, seized the largest wine-skin from the waggon, threw it on his horse, and rode away. Spectres do not drink this year's Rater wine. This news from the _west_ disturbs me less than the absence of news from the _east_--from Ovilava and Lentia! There certainly came from there, through the Porta Latina, a few peasants into the market; but I did not know them: I was suspicious of them. Well, we stand in the protection of the Lord, in the rising as in the setting of the sun!

But thou, Stephen”----

But he who was addressed heard not.

Gently rebuking him, the Presbyter took hold of his garment: ”Stephen, Stephen, dost thou still understand only the barbarian name Bojorix?

Thou, my Stephen, say to the children of the widow at Foutes: I will pledge the silver vessels of the church, keeping back only one for use, and with the proceeds satisfy the money-lender, and save her from slavery. I will bring the money to-morrow, or the day following.”