Attila: A Romance. Vol. I.

by G. P. R. James

Mingling other thoughts of a more heartfelt and interesting kind with the alternate expectations and disappointments--trifling, indeed, but still exciting--of the chase, he did not remark that after a time the voices of his followers sounded less and less loud, and that the river swept away more than he had calculated towards the west. Cremera, indeed, he saw from time to time emerge from the deeper parts of the wood to catch a glance of him, and he fancied that the others were not far distant. But at length all the sounds ceased, and after some time he became aware that he had strayed considerably from the direction which he had proposed to take. He heeded it not much, however, saying to himself, "They will soon rejoin me: the river sweeps round again not far on."

As he thus thought, he heard the distant cry of dogs; and putting his horse into a quicker pace, he hurried on towards the spot from which the sounds proceeded. They were faint and far off, however; but, as he rode forward, they seemed to advance upon him, winding hither and thither in the wood; and he thought, as his practised ear caught the sounds, "It must be an elk they are upon; they cry more eagerly than on a stag."

There were some high grounds above him, but covered with deep wood; and though, soon after, Theodore could hear the musical voices of the hounds pass across the upland, and could even catch the rushing and crashing sound of some large beast passing through the underwood, he could neither see dogs nor game. He thought, however, "That is no elk! It does not bound like an elk--most probably a wild boar; and, if so, one of enormous size."

Then, giving a hasty glance to the river, he exclaimed, "It turns there: the brute must either take the water, face the dogs, or come back hither by the open ground;" and urging his horse as close as possible to the stream, he rode on to meet the animal, whatever it was, just as it burst from the wood. As he approached, he heard that he had calculated rightly by the turn which the dogs took; and he paused that he might fling his javelin with a surer aim.

At that moment, however, a cry like that of a human being in pain or fear caught his ear, proceeding from among the trees just before him; and dashing on to give aid if the beast were brought to bay, he plunged his horse in among the brushwood, passed in a moment a narrow slip of forest that impeded his sight, and found himself in a small open space, round three sides of which the river bent like a sickle.

One object, however, in that space occupied all his attention, one feeling took possession of his heart, and but one course was left him to pursue. In the midst, clothed in a shaggy mane, with foam covering its black nostrils and fury flashing from its dark sinister eyes, its foot planted on a hound that it had just killed, and its enormous neck bent and head drawn back, in act to strike again with the short but pointed horns upon its wide square brow, stood the urus which the dogs had driven from its mountain solitudes.

Before it, prostrate on the earth, and panting in the agonies of death, lay one of the small horses of the Huns, with streams of blood pouring forth from a tremendous gore in its side. Fallen with the fallen horse lay a boy of about twelve years of age, splendidly apparelled after the barbarian fashion, and with one small hand raised and grasping a sword, he made a vain effort to strike the fell adversary that was rushing upon him.

On one moment hung life or death; and, even while his horse was clearing the last brushwood, Theodore, with all the strength and swiftness of youth and vigour, hurled his unerring javelin at the monster. It struck him but slightly, for the youth's hand was shaken by the spring of his horse; but it flew so swiftly, that the sharp steel cut through the tough hide upon his back just as he was dashing forward to crush the boy to atoms. It shook and turned him; and as the young Hun writhed partly on one side, the fury of the animal's stroke was spent upon the dying horse. Mad, however, with pain, he now turned upon his new assailant; but Theodore, active as well as strong, snatched the second javelin from his saddle bow, sprang from his horse, and met the brute as he rushed upon him.

With his head down and his eyes closed, the urus rushed on; but Theodore, though knowing his danger, was neither fearful nor unprepared; and when the animal was within two steps of where he stood, he darted on one side, and then plunged the spear into its back. The weapon struck against the bone, however--stopped--broke short off; and, but little injured, the bull turned upon him again.

There were now the cries of coming huntsmen, but no time was left for distant succour to arrive. On himself, on himself alone, the young Roman was forced to depend; and, drawing his short sword, he again stood prepared to meet the assault of his adversary. With his eyes not now closed as before, but keenly watching his prey, the urus again rushed upon him; and Theodore, knowing that, though his sword was sharp and his arm was strong, it was in vain to strike at that bony head or that thick and heavy mane, again sprang on one side, but farther than before, more to avoid the first rush than to strike the animal as he passed.