o himself, "I shall be better able
to carry off Felicitas." So, impatient enough, he determined to await
the darkness in this hiding-place.

CHAPTER XV.

Far away from the hidden fugitives, in the south-east side of the town,
strife and tumult were meanwhile raging.

Many of the revolted slaves, after revenging themselves on their
masters, had thrown down their arms; but the _wildest_ spirits,
restrained by the Germans from further incendiarism, murder, and
robbery, and driven by them from street to street, had now crowded
together for a last resistance.

Here lay the large imperial magazines for the building of boats and
rafts for the traffic of the Ivarus, especially the salt-trade: also
immense stores of well-dried wood, sail-cloth, pitch, and tar. These
favourites of the fire-god the mad creatures wished to set on fire.
They hoped, in their blind destructive fury, that the conflagration
would from there spread its red and black wings over the whole city.

But the magazines were covered with slates on the flat roofs, were
protected by high stone walls, and shut in with strong oak doors; the
few guards round about had, certainly, long since fled, but, even
undefended, stone and iron-bound wood would for some time resist the
fury of the assailants.

But now came Keix, the leader of the host, from the bath of Amphitrite,
close by, which was in flames, swinging in one hand a blue and in the
other a green pitch torch, such as were used in the illumination of the
ornamental gardens.

"Ha!" cried he; "now see! We will have to-day the richest fire-works!
The Christian emperors have indeed forbidden the Saturnalia, but we
will introduce them again, but this time to the honour of Vulcan and
Chaos!"

And he propped both torches against the oak panels of the door, which
immediately began to smoulder. But now the pursuing Bajuvaren had
reached the spot.

The barricades in the streets they had, after a short, wild conflict
with their defenders, thrown down; and they now rushed forward in a
close wedge with Duke Garibrand at their head.

"We have you, incendiaries! Down with your arms! Extinguish those
flames instantly; or, by the spear of Wotan, no man among you shall
remain alive."

Instead of answering, Kottys lifted up the heavy iron rod--the long
bolt which he had torn from his own slave prison--and screamed:

"Dost thou think we wish to change our masters? We will be free,