his ancient heathen weapon--at the Byzantine.

The heavy axe crashed upon the glittering helmet of the brave defender
of the bridge, who fell as if struck by lightning.

Two men sprang towards him and raised his visor.

"Master Hildebrand," cried Aligern in astonishment, "it is no
Byzantine!"

"And no Italian!" added Gunthamund.

"Look at his golden locks--it is a Goth!" observed Hunibad.

Hildebrand came forward--and started violently.

"Torches!" he cried; "light! Yes," he added gloomily, taking up his
stone axe, "it is a Goth! And I--I have slain him," he concluded, with
icy calmness.

But his hand trembled on the shaft of his axe.

"No, master," cried Aligern, "he lives. He was only stunned; he opens
his eyes."

"He lives?" asked the old man, shuddering. "May the gods forbid!"

"Yes, he lives!" repeated the Goths, raising their prisoner.

"Then woe to him, and to me! But no! The gods of the Goths have
delivered him into my power. Bind him upon thy horse, Gunthamund; but
firmly. If he escape, it is at the peril of _thy_ head, not his.
Forward! To horse, and home!"

When they arrived at the camp, the escort asked the master-at-arms what
they should prepare for their prisoner.

"A bundle of straw for to-night," he answered, "and for to-morrow
early--a gallows."

With these words he entered the King's tent, and reported the result of
his excursion.

"We have a Gothic deserter among our prisoners," he concluded grimly.
"He must hang before sunset to-morrow."

"That is very sad," said Witichis, sighing.

"Yes; but necessary. I shall summon the court-martial for to-morrow.
Wilt thou preside?"

"No," said Witichis, "exempt me from that. I will appoint Hildebad in
my place."

"No," cried the old man, "that will not do. I am commander-in-chief as
long as thou keepest thy tent. I demand the presidency as my right."

Witichis looked at him.

"Thou art so grim and cold! Is it an enemy of thy kindred?"

"No," said Hildebrand.

"What is the name of the prisoner?"

"Hildebrand--like mine."

"Meseems thou hatest him--this Hildebrand. Thou mayst judge; but beware
of exaggerated severity. Do not forget that I pardon gladly."

"The well-being of the Goths demands his death," said Hildebrand
quietly; "and he will die!"

CHAPTER XVI.

Early the next morning the prisoner, with his head covered, was led to
a meadow on the north, the "cold corner" of the camp, where we