Chapter XI: The Unexpected Meeting

In a mountain pass a little to the westward of the spot where now stands the small town of Bassano, among the first shoots of the Rh[ae]tian Alps, travelled onward the family of wanderers, whose various course we have traced from the beginning of this tale, as, compelled by circumstances, and dogged by misfortune, they were driven from land to land.

They were no longer, however, alone and undefended amid all the strife and danger of those perilous times: for the small body of Huns which had guarded Theodore in his journey to the imperial city had formed a nucleus, round which the Hunnish auxiliaries in the neighbourhood of Rome had gathered, as he retrod his steps towards Pannonia; and a little army of barbarians now accompanied him on the way. Those who had been attached to him from his first arrival in the Hunnish territory had not failed to magnify his deeds and reputation to every detached troop who joined them. The favour in which he stood with Attila was told and commented on; and his power and influence, as well as his courage, skill, and conduct, were so highly represented, that each party tacitly submitted to his authority; and in all great things, such as the direction and general regulation of their march, suffered the young Roman to retain the command of the whole force, as well as of his own particular followers.

He was thus enabled to save the country through which he passed from pillage; and though two or three times reports reached him of bodies of the imperial troops following his path, and even rumours of [AE]tius having returned, and being on his march across the fertile plains of Lombardy with a powerful army met his ear, he was happily enabled to reach the foot of the Alps without having recourse to one act of violence against any Roman citizen whatsoever.

The spot where they now halted for the day was by the banks of one of those small lakes, whereof so many fertilize and beautify the lower passes of the Alps. On every side around rose up the mighty mountains; and over their wooded sides the clear masses of light and shade flew swift as the soft large clouds were borne by the quick wind through the lustrous summer's sky. It was evening time; and in all the thickets round about the nightingales--sweet untaught choristers, in whose tuneful art no time nor cultivation can improve a tone or sweeten a single note--were chanting their thrilling anthem to the God of nature. In the clear mirror of the lake, deep down appeared the inverted mountains, with the softened sky beyond, and every quick change of light and shade.

It was a lovely scene; and though the hearts of Theodore and Ildica had now become sadly learned in the lessons of frequent disappointment, yet that spot recalled their sweet refuge on the other side of those dark Alps, where, amid the friendly Alans, they had enjoyed some brief, but never to be forgotten, hours of unalloyed delight. It recalled that place of refuge, and the hopes which they there had felt; and though those hopes had again been disappointed, they blossomed anew, different, yet the same; changed a little in form and arrangement, but not less beautiful, not less sweet--flowers of another spring, but of the same kind, from the same stem, from the same earth.

They had pitched their tents in a situation which recalled their former resting-place the more strongly, as it was upon a projecting point a short way up the hill. Below them lay the encampment of their Hunnish followers, and around them the domestic servants of their house; and as they sat there, and wisely encouraged once more the happy feelings that were willing to return, Theodore urged that, as they were now once more in safety, Ildica might give him her hand, whenever they could meet with a minister of religion to sanctify their union. Ildica said not one word against it; and as, with a slight blush and downcast eye she gave no unwilling consent, Theodore thought her far more lovely than ever, although a shade of melancholy, gathered from frequent disappointment, anxiety, and grief, hung over her as if it had been a veil, seldom, if ever, raised entirely, even in her happiest moments. That shade of melancholy also was somewhat darker now, inasmuch as her fair and beloved mother had shown signs of failing strength under the long and weary journey which they had just been compelled to take. Theodore hoped that the day's repose which they were now enjoying in that calm scene might sufficiently restore Flavia to proceed with comfort; but Ildica clearly saw that her mother could bear no great fatigue; and from some casual words which had fallen from her parent's lips, she had gathered that it was her intention, as soon as the double union of her children with those of Paulinus had taken place, to retire for ever from the busy world, and pass her remaining days in one of those places of seclusion which were at that time to be found in almost every part of the world. Ildica could not contemplate such a separation without pain; and though she shrunk not from her union with one whom she loved so deeply and intensely, yet she feared the parting with her mother, whom she had loved so long, and who loved her so tenderly.

Upon the brow of the promontory, Theodore and Ildica sat and gazed, and thought over the future, with sweet hopes and dark apprehensions crossing the expanse of thought, like the sunshine and the shade that flitted across the mountains before their eyes; and ever and anon they spoke over many things, with that unreserved confidence which is one of the sweetest drops in the ambrosial cup of love. Since they had last met, the tone of Ildica's mind had undergone some alteration. It had become deeper, more intense, more enthusiastic. In everything that engaged her--though there might be fewer things that did so--she took a profounder interest; and, whether it was her love for Theodore, her devotion to the bright faith in which she had been reared, her love for her mother, or any other thing in which her heart was concerned, there was a depth, a strength, an energetic eagerness in her whole feelings which raised and ennobled her still more than ever in the eyes of her lover.

They sat and gazed. Wide spread over the valley below, and up the sides of the hill, even higher than themselves, might be seen various parties of the Huns, seeking forage for their horses, or food for themselves; and as the eye of Theodore was turned towards the entrance of the valley, where mountain falling over mountain seemed to close up the pass, he thought he saw a considerable degree of bustle and movement in a body of about thirty or forty of the barbarians, whom he had marked winding down in that direction by the banks of a small stream that entered the lake hard by. It subsided in a few minutes, however, and he took no further notice, pursuing his conversation with Ildica, and looking on well pleased, while the Huns, in a spot void of other inhabitants, engaged themselves in a thousand peaceful occupations, as if they never sought for strife or dipped their hands in blood.

Half an hour more had elapsed, or perhaps scarcely so much, and Theodore and Ildica were deep in the business of their own hearts, when suddenly a step sounded among the tents behind them, which--wherefore he knew not--made Theodore start and turn round.

What was his astonishment when, not a spear's length from him, he beheld Attila himself,[4] who, advancing with a slow step, looked upon the young Roman with a smile as distinct as ever crossed his stern, fixed countenance. The next moment, however, the glance of the barbarian monarch turned upon Ildica; and the light of suddenly-excited admiration shone forth from his eyes. It was but momentary, however, and, addressing himself kindly to Theodore, he said, "So, my son, thou hast left the bright court of Valentinian to come back to the barbarian. Thou art welcome; for I may chance to have much need of thee; and thou shalt find, as thou hast found, higher honours and a kinder monarch in the land of the stranger than in thine own."

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[Footnote 4: The march of the armies of Attila in all his expeditions is very doubtfully displayed by ancient historians; but that in his advance into Italy he took and sacked the city of Augusta Vindelicorum, or Augsburg, is clear, previous to the capture of Aquileia, and therefore that he must have traversed some part of the Julian or Rh[ae]tian Alps is equally certain. Any one who casts his eye upon the map will see that his direct way into Italy, from Vindelicia, was by the passes of the Tyrol; and any one who is acquainted with the nature of the country will, if he take into consideration that the army of Attila consisted entirely of cavalry, conclude that the Brenner was the pass by which he conducted his myriads towards the plains of Lombardy.]

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Thus saying, he sat himself familiarly down upon the bank between Theodore and Ildica. She, however, rose, and was about to retire into the tent; but he stopped her, gently saying, "Do not depart! Fear me not, fair one; I will not injure thee. Who is this, my son?" he continued, addressing Theodore--"is this thy sister?"

"Not so, oh king!" answered Theodore, who had always found it best to speak to Attila the straightforward truth, without the slightest disguise or concealment. "Not so: she is my promised bride, and in a few days will be my wife."

"'Tis well!" said Attila; "'tis well! She is beautiful, and doubtless good. I will witness thy nuptials, and give thee the bridal present; for I hear, from those whom I met but now at the end of the valley, that thou needest a protector, and one shalt thou find in Attila."

Ildica still stood lingering, as if anxious to retire; and the monarch of the Huns perceiving her embarrassment, added suddenly, "Well, hie thee in, then, fair one; thou fearest the barbarian king; but Attila can be gentle to those he loves. I will pass this day with thee, my son; and this timid girl shall see that he whom she has been taught to look upon as a cruel tyrant, can sit him down as peacefully to a calm and humble board as the most polished and effeminate Roman of them all can cast himself on his couch to gorge upon a thousand dishes. Hie thee in, fair one; I will speak with thy lover alone."

Ildica obeyed; and after she was gone Attila remained for several moments in a deep fit of thought. Then, raising his head, he turned to some of his attendants who stood near, saying, "Get ye gone, and bring up hither the roe deer that the men took in the forest as we came along, with what fish ye can find in the stream. Here will I take my evening meal. Get ye gone, all of you."

The attendants departed as they were bid; and Attila again fell into a deep fit of thought, after which he turned to Theodore, and said, abruptly, "I am glad thou hast come back. This Valentinian, this woman-emperor, is insolent, and must be punished; and I am well pleased that thou dwellest not among those who will soon feel the sword of Attila. Knowest thou what has happened in the East?"

"I heard as I went to Rome," said Theodore, "that the base murderer of my father, Theodosius, is no more; but I have heard no further tidings, and only guess that the empire has fallen to his sister, Pulcheria."

"And that Pulcheria has taken unto herself a husband," added Attila, "on whom she has conferred the rule of the land. We hear that he is a brave man and a wise man. If he be wise he will pay our tribute, or he will have to do with a braver than himself."

"Doubtless he will pay it," replied Theodore, with a sigh. "Hast thou sent to demand it, oh mighty king?"

"I have," answered Attila. "For if it be not paid after conquering Rome, I march to Constantinople. But doubtless he will pay it."

"Is this new monarch's name known?" demanded Theodore: "I know most of those who were in favour at the court of the East; but I know none on whom Pulcheria was likely to shower such gifts."

"His rise has been sudden," answered Attila. "He had gained some renown as a soldier, and was a military tribune; but enjoyed no great favour with the empty Theodosius: his name is Marcian."

"Marcian!" exclaimed Theodore, with joy sparkling from his eyes: "he was the dearest friend of my dead father, and since my father's death has been equally the dear and considerate friend of his friend's children. He is, indeed, great as a warrior--noble and wise as a man."

Attila's brow grew dark, as if he loved not to hear such praises of the Eastern emperor.

"Think you," he demanded, harshly, "that he will pay the tribute? Think you that he will yield obedience to our commands?"

"I think," replied Theodore, firmly, "that he will yield to no demand urged in a haughty tone. Were the greatest monarch on all the earth, I would rather have Marcian for my friend than for my enemy."

"Ha!" cried Attila: "he had better set his naked foot upon an asp than cross my path of victory. Ha! what sayest thou? will he dare to raise himself up against Attila?"

"Perchance not, oh great king," replied Theodore, "perchance not; but it will depend upon Attila's demeanour towards him. Marcian is no Theodosius. Bred in arms from his youth upward, his birthplace was the battle-field; the camp his cradle; war and strife the sport of his youth; command the employment of his manhood. He is no silken reposer on soft couches, but a hardy soldier, for whom the palace will scarcely afford a pillow hard enough to prop his head. If Attila entreat him fairly, Marcian is one to reverence and to love the high qualities of that mighty monarch, and to grant him the friendship that one great man is fond to feel towards another; but if Attila declares himself the enemy, and seeks to become the master of the emperor, Marcian will draw the sword, and it will never be sheathed till one or the other lie in the cold grave. Oh Attila, you have never yet met with Marcian. Better, oh king, better far to have him for your friend than for your enemy!"

Attila rolled his dark eyes fiercely as Theodore spoke; but for some minutes he answered not, and then, gradually resuming his stern calmness, he said, "We shall see! We shall see! I seek not to wrong him--but we shall see! So this Macian was your father's friend; and you know and love him yourself?"

"I do, oh Attila!" answered Theodore, "and I have cause. After my father's death, Marcian sought out, protected, befriended me; enabled me and mine to pursue our flight in safety, and risked even the emperor's wrath in order to favour our escape. I love him dearly, and he, for my father's sake, loves me. He is one of those men who, like thyself, oh king, are hard and firm as some fine gem, which nothing but a gem will cut; but upon which, the lines once engraved no power will afterward remove; and there they last, as clear and definite under the wearing power of time as if nothing but a soft stream passed over them. My father's love will never be forgot."

"The tribune might remember," said Attila, "what the emperor may forget."

"Not so, oh king!" answered Theodore: "Marcian changes not. The same was he as a common soldier in the Roman ranks, as when a tribune, possessed of vast power. When in the lowest military station in the state, his conduct, his manners, his mind, showed him worthy of the highest; and when midway to power and dignity, unlike the changeful herd of ordinary men, authority sat as lightly on him as obedience. What he was as a soldier he was as a tribune, and will be as an emperor. Though not born in that high station, he was born for it; and not only his virtues and his talents, but many another more marvellous indication showed that one day God would place in his hand the destinies of the Roman people."

"Indeed!" cried Attila, fixing his eye upon the young Roman with a greater expression of surprise than he ever manifested on any ordinary occasion. "Indeed! What were these portents?"

"They have been many, as I have heard," replied Theodore. "Escapes from danger almost miraculous; and twice, when sleeping in the open field, an eagle has been seen to hover over his head, and shade him from the scorching sun. These I report but on hearsay. Once, however, I can speak myself to an event of the same kind. After a great earthquake, some four years ago, he was coming from Salona to Aspalathos, and was met by us upon the road. He pitched his tent where we encountered him; and while we were still with him, an eagle, which had followed his troop all day, came down and rested on the tent-pole."

Attila started up and seemed troubled. "This is very strange," he said: "you were present yourself?"

"I was," answered Theodore. "There is no more doubt of it than that I stand here."

"An eagle!" exclaimed the monarch: "so wild and fierce a bird to alight and rest amid a troop of men!"

"It is strange, indeed, oh king!" said Theodore, "most strange, but no less true; and its very strangeness made all men but himself believe that it was an indication of some future greatness."

Attila replied not, but remained several minutes with his eyes bent upon the ground; and then, starting somewhat abruptly, he exclaimed, "Let us into thy tents, my son; I will eat with thee and drink with thee this night; and then leave thee till to-morrow, when thou shalt go back with me to Tridentum. There my own ambassadors and those of Marcian come to seek me; and as I will not ask thee to bear arms against thy country, instead of taking thee with me to sweep away Valentinian and tread upon Rome, I will send thee to this noble monarch of the East. Thou mayst do more with him, perchance, than a mere stranger."

The heart of Theodore beat high, for he saw before him a prospect of better things and happier days. The hope of a journey to Constantinople, where he might place Ildica, and all who were dear to him, under the generous protection of Marcian, was in no slight degree joyful, and he at length beheld, or imagined that he beheld, a certain and permanent refuge for the future, and a happy termination to all his wanderings. Gladly, then, did he express his willingness to accept the office which Attila proposed to confer upon him; and though there was something dark, and even gloomy, in the countenance of the king as he followed the young Roman into his tent, yet the eyes of Theodore were lighted up with joy and satisfaction, which spread itself to all around.

He found no opportunity of relating what had happened, or of explaining the hopes and prospects which had cheered his breast, yet Ildica saw sufficient in the glad smile of Theodore's lip to feel sure that some new source of joy had been opened out for them all. At heart, indeed, she was anxious for her mother, who, ill at ease, and reposing in another tent, entered not that in which the king partook of the evening meal with her children; but still the demeanour of the monarch himself, and the satisfaction which he saw upon the countenance of Theodore, banished the darker apprehensions which had mingled with her former hopes.

The dark monarch of the Huns, retaining all his simple habits, drinking from the cup of horn, and served on no richer materials than wood, unbent in the tent of the young Roman, as far as his own stern nature would suffer him to do, from the rigid gravity of his usual demeanour. He spoke kindly and gently to Theodore and the rest, whom he made sit around him, and from time to time his lip almost relaxed into a smile at the wild, light spirit of Ammian, which would have way, notwithstanding the overawing presence of that mighty and terrible man. On Eudochia he gazed as on a beautiful child; and though he but seldom turned his eyes towards Ildica, yet when he did so there was in them an expression which showed that her exquisite beauty, however graceful and refined, was appreciated by the barbarian monarch as much as it could have been by the most delicate sculptor of ancient Greece. Theodore, however, felt no alarm; and as soon as Attila had mounted his horse and departed for his own camp, which was at the distance of but a few miles, the young Roman hastened to communicate to Ildica and her mother his hopes and wishes. He told them the prospect of his being sent on a mission to Marcian; and he besought her he loved to give him her hand, and to go with him as his bride to the city of Constantine. Flavia's countenance lighted up with joy at the thought, and Ildica said not nay. Again the time of their union was named, with but an intervening day, and Theodore lay down to rest with as much happiness as hope can pour into the human breast.