them with what men he could
raise, and on his way met the army sent to repel the Slavonians. They
approached the Saxon host where it lay encamped on the Weser, behind the
Sundel mountain, and laid plans to attack it on both sides at once. But
jealousy ruined these plans, as it has many other well-laid schemes. The
leaders of the Slavonian contingent, eager to rob Theoderic of glory,
marched in haste on the Saxons, attacked them in their camp, and were so
completely defeated and overthrown that but a moity of their army
escaped from the field. The appearance of these fugitives in the camp of
Theoderic was the first he knew of the treachery of his fellow generals
and their signal punishment.

The story of this dreadful event was in all haste borne to Charlemagne.
His army had been destroyed almost as completely as that of Varus on a
former occasion, and in nearly the same country. The distressing tidings
filled his soul with rage and a bitter thirst for revenge. He had done
his utmost to win over the Saxons by lenity and kindness, but this
course now seemed to him useless, if not worse than useless. He
determined to adopt opposite measures and try the effect of cruelty and
severe retribution. Calling together his forces until he had a great
army under his command, he marched into Saxony torch and sword in hand,
and swept the country with fire and steel. All who would not embrace
Christianity were pitilessly exterminated. Thousands were driven into
the rivers to be baptized or drowned. Carnage, desolation, and
destruction marked the path of the conqueror. Never had a country been
more frightfully devastated by the hand of war.

All who were concerned in the rebellion were seized, so far as Charles
could lay hands on them. When questioned, they lay all the blame on
Wittekind. He was the culprit, they but his instruments. But Wittekind
had vanished, the protesting chiefs and people were in the conqueror's
hands, and, bent on making an awful example, he had no less than four
thousand five hundred of them beheaded in one day. It was a frightful
act of vengeance, which has ever since remained an ineradicable blot on
the memory of the great king.

[Illustration: THE BAPTISM OF WITTEKIND.]

Its effect was what might have been anticipated. Instead of filling the
Saxons with terror, it inspired them with revengeful fury. They rose as
one man, Wittekind and Alboin at their head, and attacked the French
with a fury such as they h