The guest loosened his grip of the dagger and leaned back proudly. "But Roman gold does not ensnare you," Adalo continued; "so some magic blinds you." "Or _you_ and all our crazy youths. The red drink of Zio, the war-god, has intoxicated you. Or," he added in a lower, almost timid tone, "He, Odin the Val-father, wishes again to people his Valhalla with slaughtered heroes." A change of expression flashed over the Duke's face. He gently raised his spear and, unheard by the others, murmured, "Mighty Odin, do not avenge the words." But Ebarbold went on: "No matter about the boys! Their only art is war, and they have little sense; but that you, who have seen sixty winters and almost as many victories of the men with the high helmets--that you too should desire war! My friends, I went to Rome; I climbed to the citadel on the towering rock. It glitters with gold and marble. I served in the great Valentinian's army. I have seen for years the countless thousands of Roman warriors with their finest weapons, against which ours are like children's toys." The Duke, unnoticed, pressed his spear closer to his breast. "And the military engines, the huge galleys with three banks of oars one above another, the treasures of coined and uncoined gold and silver! The whole extent of the land, all Mittelgard, as far as men live--white, brown, and black--I've seen them painted on a long, long strip of hide. The rising and the setting of the sun serve Rome. In his golden house on one of the seven hills of the Tiber the Imperator has placed a gold ball: all the provinces are copied on it. It is the work of a magician. If a foe crosses the boundary in the farthest north or south, the gold ball echoes and trembles in that spot; the Imperator hears it, looks, and sends the legions. We will not defy him. The Cæsar is a god on earth." "Do not hear it. Mighty One!" the old Duke murmured, stroking the runes on his spear soothingly. Adalo was about to make a vehement reply, but he involuntarily looked at the silent man, and controlled himself. "We have learned that long enough, I think," Ebarbold continued; "from generation to generation, when each province still fought independently, long before this name and league of the Alemanni were heard and invented!" "You don't like this league?" the Duke now asked suddenly. The King started. The voice, hitherto mute, sounded so loud and powerful. Glancing up timidly, he shrugged his shoulders: "Whether I like it or not, I can no longer dissolve it." "No, you cannot," said Hariowald very calmly, stroking his long beard; but his gray eye darted a glance which boded evil. "You don't like the _name_ of Alemanni either?" asked Adalo indignantly. "No, Adeling. 'All men together!' Ha, our forefathers prided themselves on standing alone, province by province; nay, in the old days family by family, not leaning on others, and also not bound by them, not subject to the will of the majority."