"Uncle," cried Herculanus, "wasn't that the fellow's name? Yes, yes, it is he: the 'Mars of the Alemanni!' Seize him--and the war is over!" Before Ausonius could answer, Saturninus, hurrying out of the tent, said: "Beware, Ausonius! Nothing in heaven or on earth seems to be sacred to this nephew of yours. But that Barbarian's eyes must be quickly bandaged again; their glance is like an eagle's." He hastened after the envoy. Ausonius, vexed by many things, said very irritably, in a tone almost never heard from the lips of the kind-hearted noble: "I have long been displeased with you, nephew Herculanus. I am very much displeased. Very! Extremely!" He passed him with a hasty step, harshly thrusting aside the arms which Herculanus stretched toward him with a soothing gesture. The nephew's eyes followed him with a glance that boded evil. CHAPTER XXIX. Meanwhile the Batavians, Adalo's two companions, and the bear-leader had lain chattering peaceably together around the campfire. There was, in general, so total a lack of any feeling of unity among the various German tribes that the Alemanni did not think of openly reproaching the Batavians, or even cherishing any secret resentment because they were fighting under Roman standards against other Germans: Alemanni mercenaries also fought against the German, as well as against the other foes of Rome. So the Roman bronze vessel, filled with dark red Rhaetian wine, was passed to the two Alemanni also, and the Batavians gladly drank the mead which Adalo's companions had brought in long wooden vessels fastened on their backs. For in those days the thirst of the Alemanni was great and frequent, and the brave fellows--hospitality in the enemy's camp had not been expected--would have been reluctant to do without liquor during the long hours consumed on the journey there, the waiting, and the return. The Sarmatian, with laudable impartiality, drank wine and mead by turns. He, too, at a sign from Rignomer, had taken his seat by the fire. The bear lay stretched at full length at his side, while he began to throw sharp knives into 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.