The enemy had overpowered the garrison of the bridge; already many of the swimmers, horsemen and footmen intermixed, had reached the troops of Severus. Active youths, whose yellow hair floated in the wind from their uncovered heads, ran, holding on to the manes of the horses; and thus attacked at once by horse and foot, the citizens of Juvavum, knowing their town, their relatives, were already in the power of the conqueror, threw away their arms, and fled on all sides. At the same time the Alemanni from the west rode down the hundred men of Cornelius.
Severus stood alone: his spear fell from his hand.
The leader of the enemy that had come so suddenly from the east then approached him. He had galloped in advance of his followers on to the bridge, where his horse was pierced and fell. He then advanced on foot, a giant in stature. The mighty pinion of the black eagle bristled menacingly on his helm; his red hair, combed towards the crown, and drawn together behind, fell below his helmet; an enormous bear-skin hung on his shoulders: he raised his stone battle-axe.
"Throw down thy sword, old man, and live," cried this giant, in Latin.
"Throw down this sword?" said Severus. "I will not live!"
"Then die!" cried the other, and hurled his stone axe.
Severus fell: his breast-plate was rent in twain, it fell in two pieces from his body.
He supported himself painfully on his left arm: the conquering sword he had not yet let fall.
The victor bent over him, picking up his axe.
"Tell me, before I die," said Severus, with a weak voice, "in whose hands is Juvavum fallen? Of what race are you? Are you Alemanni?"