old women complained to me."

"And the prisoners!" Adalo reminded him.

"They have only one, I hear," Ebarbold remarked, "the child of a small
farmer."

"No matter, she is a free maiden, a daughter of our race," cried Adalo,
with blazing eyes. "She has a right to the protection of her people."

"Protection? A captive! What can we--"

"Release her with the sword--or avenge her."

"Commence, for the sake of one woman, the conflict which will destroy
the people?"

"You are right," said the Duke slowly. "Women as well as men must be
sacrificed for the welfare of the nation. Let her stay where she
is--little Bissula."

"What, Bissula?" asked Ebarbold, startled. "Albfledis, whom they call
Bissula? The beautiful red elf?"

"You know her?" Adalo asked.

"Who has not heard of her? She is talked of along the whole shore of
the lake, and in such a way that the listener is anxious to see her. I
too grew curious and tried to get a look at her lately, at the last
sun-festival. It is a pity about her. By Freya's eyes, a great pity!
But peace is worth more."

"Certainly," said Hariowald, "and victory still more."

"Victory is certain," exclaimed Adalo.

"Do you think so?" replied the old man reprovingly. "I do not. Not
yet," he corrected himself.

"Lead us to the attack on the Roman camp! Our men are pouring here in
dense throngs since you sent the blood-red arrow from house to house."

"There are not yet enough. The army still lacks many men from distant
provinces situated far away toward the north and the east: Alpgau,
Albwins-Bar, Wisentgau, and Draggau."

"Do not calculate! Dare!"

"I am doing so; but I also consider the firmness of the Roman camp."

"But meanwhile our foes are strengthening themselves too. Their proud
galleys already lie anchored opposite in Arbor; they will soon bring
fresh cohorts over."

"Let them do so." The old Duke laughed softly; his look expressed a
grim, mysterious joy. "Meanwhile," he added after a pause, "I will send
an envoy to the foe to-morrow."

"Send me!" exclaimed Ebarbold eagerly.

"No. Adalo, you will go."

"He! He will not bring back peace."

"No, but keen scrutiny, and--" he whispered to the youth--"perhaps
Bissula."

"Thanks! Thanks!"

"I," cried Ebarbold wrathfully, "would surely bring home to our
people--"

"Subjection!" said the Duke. "That is just what you must not do. If the
Italians reject fair proposals, then I will ask the Council of the
people, t