Thus passed the day; but the next morning, as Theodore sat at meat with his uncle, it was announced that Edicon, one of the favourite officers of Attila, together with Maximin, ambassador from Theodosius, approached the city of Margus in their way from Constantinople to the country of the Huns; and when Theodore beheld the reverence and respect which the ambassador himself, and those who accompanied him, evinced towards the prelate who had first received the barbarians into the empire, he could not help feeling how brilliant a thing in the eyes of man is successful evil. During a whole day the ambassador and his train sought repose in Margus--and Theodore determined to accompany him on his onward journey. His uncle forced upon him a casket of gold ere he departed, conquering his aversion to receive it by declaring that it was a debt he had owed Paulinus; and Theodore, feeling that it might be needful, made no further resistance.
[CHAPTER III.]
THE WIDOW'S DWELLING.
Near a bend of the Tibiscus, on a meadow that might have refreshed the weary eye in summer by its beautiful verdure, the Romans pitched their tents at the close of their first day's journey in the land of the Huns. The night was dark and gloomy; no golden sunset had cheered the world on the departure of the light; and covering all the heavens, in long wavy lines from the horizon to the zenith, stretched out a canopy of heavy clouds, like waves of molten lead rolled over the sky. Maximin, struck and pleased with Theodore, had invited him to his tent; and there, by skilful and kindly inquiries, he won from the son of Paulinus a sketch of all the events which had affected him personally since the death of his father. There was much that Theodore omitted, because he trifled not with the confidence of others; but Maximin learned enough to show him that the youth was held by Attila in a state of honourable, but unwilling captivity; and he resolved to use his best efforts to redeem him from such a situation.
While they thus conversed by the dull lamplight, the pattering of some heavy drops of rain was heard upon the tent, and, mingled with the rushing murmur of the Tibiscus, came the low sobbing of the rising wind. Their conversation, however, was too interesting to allow them to give much attention to the storm without; for, besides the feelings of sympathy which Theodore had excited in the bosom of the noble Maximin, he had much information to communicate concerning the manners and habits of the Huns, and the character of Attila himself; all which the ambassador knew might prove most valuable to him at an after period.
The rain increased while they talked; the river roared and raged; the wind rose into fierce gusts, and the poles of the tent were seen to quiver under the violent blasts, while the trickling drops began to welter through the tent, and threatened to extinguish the light. At length, after a long moaning sound, a fiercer gust than all the rest swept the sky; the tent-poles shook, bent, gave way, tearing up the earth into which they were driven; the cords and pegs which stretched out the covering were broken or loosened in a moment, and the tent, with all that it contained, was dashed with fury to the ground.
As soon as Maximin and Theodore could disentangle themselves from the fallen mass, they found that the whole of their little encampment had shared the same fate. All was confusion and disarray. Every light had been extinguished: the torches, drenched with the fallen deluge, could not be lighted. The night was as black as the jaws of Acheron; and all that could be distinguished was a glistering line of water, every moment approaching nearer, as the Tibiscus, filled by a thousand mountain-torrents, began to overflow the meadow in which the Roman tents had been pitched.
While engaged in removing, with difficulty and haste, the horses and baggage to a more elevated situation, a number of lights were seen coming over the nearest hill; and in a few moments forty or fifty Huns, bearing torches of resinous pine, which neither the rain extinguished nor the wind blew out, came down to render assistance to the party of whose encampment in the neighbourhood they had heard before the storm. While some remained to aid in saving the baggage from the encroaching Tibiscus, others led Maximin, Theodore, and their companions towards the village, which they said was not far off; and as they went, Theodore saw several of the new-comers sporting, as an old acquaintance, with the negro Zercon, who had returned with him.
Calling the unhappy jester to him, Theodore asked who were to be their entertainers; and a feeling of pain, as well as interest, passed through his bosom, when he heard that their steps were bent towards the dwelling of Bleda's widow.
"I knew not that the village was so near the river," said Theodore, "and yet I know the country well."