"Out on thee, fiend!" cried Theodore; "out on thee, unjust and barbarous man! Lover of blood, faithless, false, and insolent; no bride of Attila's was she; no sacrifice shall she be to the demon of thy mighty father--to the manes of him who, had he been as pitiful and as contemptible as his son, would never--"
"Hush, hush!" cried Ardaric, laying his hand upon his arm--"hush, hush, Theodore! Provoke not quarrel now! Ellac, what thou demandest is impossible. Were she even here in the camp, my honour, and the glorious name of Attila himself, would demand that she whose hand had lain in his should be held sacred, so long as Ardaric had a sword to wield in her defence. But she is far hence. Long, long miles separate us from her; and ere thou or thine could reach her, she would be safe in her own land. If thou wilt swear peace, why well! but seek not to delay us longer with vain and idle pretexts!"
"Pretexts!" exclaimed Ellac, furiously; "proud leader, who art thou, to talk to me of pretexts? Who is king here on the Pannonian soil, that thou shouldst beard me thus?"
"Beard thee!" cried Ardaric, with a scornful laugh. "Who is king here! why, beardless boy, Ardaric is king as well as thou art! Thy father's friend, but not his servant; his ally, not his subject, serving him well and truly from love and admiration; but owing him nothing, no, not an ounce of gold! Speakest thou to me as if thou wert Attila? Poor worm! know thyself better; and if thou wouldst know who is king, three days hence I will give thee an answer--ay, such an answer as the world shall never forget--written with steel, in characters of blood. But let us now have peace! If thou wilt now swear to deal faithfully with us, say so at once. If not, lo, we mount our horses, and we draw our swords. But upon thee and thine be the shame and the disgrace of dishonouring thy father's ashes. We offer thee peace to perform the rites due to the ashes of the mighty king--take it or refuse it, now, and at a word."
Onegisus caught the arm of Ellac as he was about to reply, and whispered with him eagerly for several minutes. Ellac looked down sullenly on the ground for a moment, and then, raising his eyes, replied, "Peace! let it be peace for those two days! I swear to keep it inviolate by the ashes of my father, and by the eternal gods. But after that, oh Ardaric, will come the trial between thee and me. The hosts that have conquered under Attila shall not be divided under his son. Let our strength be tried, and if thou canst break the chain that I will put about thy neck, thou shalt drag Ellac after thee. Three days hence, at the third hour after sunrise, I will wait for thee in the plains beside the river Netad, where late I pitched my tents on the day of my father's death. There shalt thou find me, and if thou comest not to me I will seek thee, and I will bow thy proud head to the dust. As for yon paltry Roman, if he come with thee, he shall find the fate that he deserves. Perhaps he may not die--his blood is too like water to be worth the spilling. Shorn, mutilated, cropped, and his flesh marked with the burning steel, he shall stand among the slaves of Ellac, and wash the vessels from his master's table."
"Ellac," answered Theodore, calmly, "Ellac, I will come! and if the god of battles abandon me not now, I will give unto thee a better fate than that which thou wouldst grant to me. On the third day hence look thou well unto the dawning sun, for if I live thou never shalt see it rise again. For these two days, however, let us all swear peace!"
"We swear! we swear!" they cried, and laid their hands upon the bier of Attila.
* * * * * *
The dark squadrons began to move, a thousand horsemen at a time; and with a slow and solemn pace they approached the tent where lay the body of the mighty king, wheeling round it once, with still decreasing speed, as if reluctant to pass for the last time before him who had so often led them on to victory. Ever as they went, with downcast looks, they sung to a wild and melancholy air the song of the departed great.
When each squadron had performed its round, it took its place once more in the vast circle, and another succeeded and performed the same sad rite, till at length, when the sun's course had waned to less than an hour of light, the whole had completed the task. Then ten of the greatest chieftains lifted the golden coffin, and, placing it on their crossed spears, bore it towards the grave.