He whispered in the ear of the animal which, growling, rose on its hind legs; the juggler put his long staff in its fore-paws, and now the clumsy creature turned slowly in a circle, keeping time to a monotonous melancholy tune which he first played on his huge flute and then sang, beating time on a bronze cup with a knife-blade. The Romans laughed loudly at the clumsy dancer.
"What is the dainty damsel's name?" asked Rignomer.
"Bruna. She can prophesy too. Take heed! Ask what you choose."
Taking the staff from the bear's paws as he spoke, he laid his hand on her head. The animal now dropped down on her fore-paws and looked up intelligently at her master, who thrust some bread into her mouth.
"Well, you wise Wala," laughed Rignomer, "will the Romans conquer in the next battle?"
The Sarmatian lightly stroked the animal's head against the hair: the bear, growling angrily, shook her head.
The Batavian started, the laugh died on his lips. "She is Donar's friend," he said dejectedly. "He speaks through her. I thought so."
He spoke as if the battle had already been fought and lost.
"Well," said the juggler consolingly, "I'll question her for you. Bruna, clever wood spirit, look sharply at this hero: Will he come out of this war safe and go back to his mother who brews the good mead?"
He lightly stroked the bear from the forehead down toward the tail: Bruna nodded assent.