orests on the Margus in M[oe]sia, or who had fought the
wolf in the forests by the rushing [OE]nus for the ragged skin which he
carried over his bear-like shoulders, and whose harsh-sounding speech
struck strangely on the ear of his half-Romanised companion.

There came strong and war-hardened men from the distant Augusta
Vindelicorum on the Licus, who day and night defended the rotten walls
of that outermost northern fortress of the Gothic kingdom against the
wild Su[=e]vi.

And here were peaceful shepherds from Dacia, who, possessing neither
field nor house, wandered with their flocks from pasture to pasture,
still living in the manner introduced into the West by their ancestors
from Asia a thousand years ago.

There was a rich Goth, who, in Rome or Ravenna, had married the
daughter of some Italian moneychanger, and had soon learned to do
business like his father-in-law, and reckon his profits by thousands.

And here stood a poor Alpine shepherd, who drove his meagre goats on to
the meagre pastures near the noisy Isarcus, and who erected his hut of
planks close to the den of the bear.

So differently had the die been cast for the thousands who were here
met together, since their fathers had followed the call of the great
Theodoric to the West, away from the valleys of the Haemus.

But still they felt that they were brothers, the sons of one nation;
they spoke the same proud language, they had the same golden locks,
the same snowy skins, the same light and sparkling eyes, and--above
all--the same feeling in their hearts: "We stand as victors on the
ground that our fathers forced from the Roman Empire, and which we will
defend to the death."

Like an immense swarm of bees the masses hummed and buzzed, greeting
each other, seeking old acquaintances and concluding new friendships;
and the chaotic tumult seemed as if it would never end.

But suddenly the peculiar long-drawn tones of the Gothic horn were
heard from the crown of the hill, and at once the storm of the thousand
voices was laid.

All eyes were eagerly turned in the direction of the hill, from which a
procession of venerable men now approached.

It was formed of half a hundred men in white and flowing mantles, their
heads crowned with ivy, carrying white staffs and ancient stone axes.
They were the sajones or soldiers of the tribunal, whose office it was
to carry out the ceremonial forms of opening, warding, and closing the
"Ting."

Arrived on the