"What! Did you hear me?" asked the astonished captain. "I thought you were wrapped up in your own thoughts!"
"However absorbed a lover may seem to be, he always overhears what is said of his sweetheart, my brave Marion," was Victorin's mirthful answer. "My sovereign mistress is war!"
"Again that pest of profligacy!" Captain Marion whispered to me. "Alack! It pursues him even in his thoughts of battle!"
"Marion," remarked Victorin, "we have on this side of the Rhine two hundred and ten barks of war propelled by six oars—have we?"
"About that number, and well equipped!"
"Fifty of them will suffice for you to transport the reinforcement of picked troops that you are to take to our allies. The remaining hundred and sixty, manned by ten soldier oarsmen provided with axes, besides twenty picked archers, will hold themselves ready to descend the Rhine as far as the promontory of Herfel, where they will wait for further instructions. Issue this order to the captain of the flotilla before you embark."
"It shall be done—rely upon me!"
"Carry out your plan, brave Marion, from point to point. Cut the Frankish reserve to pieces, burn their camp and wagons. Ours is the day if I succeed in forcing the barbarians to retreat," said Victorin.
"And you will, Victorin! I shall run for my friend, Eustace, and carry out your orders."
Before leaving the room Captain Marion drew his sword, presented the hilt to the Mother of the Camps and making the military salute, said: