The priestess stopped for a moment and called:
"Riowag!"
"Riowag is here," answered a voice so close to me that I realized the chief of the black warriors was near enough to be able to touch me. Nevertheless, it was in vain that I sought to distinguish his black shape in the dark. It became clearer to me than ever before how, by rendering themselves undistinguishable in the dark, these men could not choose but be dangerous foes in a night assault or ambuscade.
"Is it far from here to the river bank?" I asked Riowag. "You must know the spot where I landed; you were the chief of the band that greeted me with a volley of arrows."
"No, we have not far to go," Riowag answered.
"Shall we have to cross the camp?" I inquired, perceiving the lights of the Frankish encampment at a little distance.
Neither of my two guides made any answer. They exchanged a few words in a low voice, each took me by an arm, and they struck into a path that led away from the camp. Soon the roar of the rushing waters of the Rhine reached our ears. We drew rapidly near the shore. Finally from the height of the embankment on which we stood, I could distinguish a bluish sheet of water across the darkness—it was the river!
"We shall now ascend the beach about two hundred feet," said Riowag; "we shall then be at the spot where you reached land under our arrows. Your bark must be only a little distance from there. If you deceived us your blood will redden the beach, and the waters of the Rhine will wash away your corpse."
"Can we call out from the bank without being heard by the outposts of the camp?" I asked the Frank.
"The wind blows off shore," Riowag answered with the sagacity of a savage. "You can freely raise your voice and call; you will not be heard at the camp, and your voice will surely travel to the middle of the stream."