CHAPTER XI.
With the exception of the two leaders, very few Romans had fallen in the short hand-to-hand combat; for the Bajuvaren duke had before the attack given the order: "To-day--prisoners! No slain! Consider, ye men; every man slain is a loss, every prisoner a servant gained for the new masters of the land!"
Fulvius and Crispus had been among the troops turned by Severus against the Bajuvaren. When their ranks were broken, the nephew cried to the uncle: "To Felicitas! Through the ford!" and as they had stood together, so they now ran together towards the river below the bridge, for that was held by the enemy.
But the stout Crispus, although he had quickly thrown away spear and shield, was soon left far behind the agile stone-mason.
An Alemannian horseman, with a youth running at his side, followed both.
Crispus was soon overtaken.
His ridiculous appearance challenged the rider to give him a blow on the casserole covering his head in the place of a helmet, it fell over his eyes and nose, from which poured a stream of blood, he gave a loud cry and fell to the ground; he thought he was dead.
But he soon came back to the agreeable certainty of life, when the foot-soldier, who had remained by him, roughly tore the casserole from his head. Crispus sprang up, gasping for breath, the German laughed in his big, fat, highly-astonished face.
"Ha! this Roman hero has had good provender. And this nose is not red with its own blood or with water either. Ho, friend, I will set thee free, if thou wilt reveal to me where in Juvavum the best wine can be got. It seems to me thou art the man to know it."
Crispus, so pleasantly spoken to, recovered himself quickly, now that he was quite convinced that he was not dead, and would not have to die for the fatherland.