to the air and nimbly catch them again, to the
astonishment of the Batavians, who gave him small copper coins. His
lame companion was lying under the bushes, sleeping so soundly that he
snored.

"Ah," cried Rignomer, wiping his chin with his bare arm and returning
the little cask to the Alemanni, "may Fro reward you for the drink!
Nothing has tasted so good since I turned my back on the Issala and my
mother's earth-cellar. She brews it even stronger."

"Wine tastes still better," said his countryman.

"Better in the mouth, Brinno; but mead and ale taste better in the
heart: it's home drink. And the best part is not the moist wave that
runs down the throat, but the memory of many a happy hour of former
drinks, which hovers over it like the rustling of a heron's wings.
Well, Alemanni, when will it come to fighting? And will you seek us, or
must we hunt for you?"

"As the Duke chooses," replied the other, draining his cup--"and
all-ruling Odin."

The Batavian's face changed.

"Don't name him to me! I fear _him_; you wearers of hair I don't. I've
seized many a man of you with the left hand by his Suabian tail, and
thrust the short Roman sword into his throat with my right. But I fear
the wearer of the mantle! He is hostile to us mercenaries. It seems to
me as though he were hovering in the air opposing us, wherever we
fight. There, Juggler, drink again. And then show (we've seen _your_
tricks) what your bear has learned. Ought not your boy in the bushes
yonder, the lame fellow, to have something too? But where is he?"

"Ho, Zizais, dog of a cripple, are you deaf as well as dumb? Where are
you hiding? Look, there he lies over by the spring, nearer to the
ditch: he has a fever, and went for water. Now stir yourself, my brown
dancing maid."

He whispered in the ear of the animal which, growling, rose on its hind
legs; the juggler put his long staff in its fore-paws, and now the
clumsy creature turned slowly in a circle, keeping time to a monotonous
melancholy tune which he first played on his huge flute and then sang,
beating time on a bronze cup with a knife-blade. The Romans laughed
loudly at the clumsy dancer.

"What is the dainty damsel's name?" asked Rignomer.

"Bruna. She can prophesy too. Take heed! Ask what you choose."

Taking the staff from the bear's paws as he spoke, he laid his hand on
her head. The animal now dropped down on her fore-paws and looked up
intelligently at her master, who thrust some br