"Atta, Atta, booty grant us,
Booty to thy much-loved children,
Yellow gold and shining silver,
And the red blood of the vineyard,
And the foeman's fairest women."
All, with bared heads, repeated the words in the deepest, most fervent reverence. Then Aigan replaced his helmet:
"Silence! Let us separate."
CHAPTER XII
In the Vandal camp on the left bank of the stream, Genseric's great banner floated from the royal tent, its folds often lifted by the night wind, rustling softly in the warm, dark air. In a somewhat lower tent, close beside the King's, Gibamund and Hilda sat silent, hand in hand, upon a couch. The table before them was covered with Gibamund's weapons; the lamp hanging from the roof cast a dim light upon them, which was reflected by the polished metal. Beside these bright arms lay a dark dagger with a beautiful hilt in a black leather sheath, all of very artistic work.
"It was hard for me," said Gibamund, starting up impatiently, "to obey the King's order and take command in the camp to-day until his return,--the suspense, the expectation is so great."