Attila and His Conquerors: A Story of the Days of St. Patrick and St. Leo the GreatCharles, Elizabeth Rundle
History
Attila and His Conquerors: A Story of the Days of St. Patrick and St. Leo the Great
Charles, Elizabeth Rundle
Attila, -453 -- Fiction; Christian fiction; Rome -- History -- Empire, 284-476 -- Fiction
“How can we help it?” she said. “This miserable world of slaves from
every race that lives close to us, and cheats and lies and talks wicked
talk! No dull, ignorant boors, but clever, keen-witted Greeks and
Syrians! How can we help learning evil from them? what can we do to
become young again?”
“I am going among the young nations, my beloved,” he replied, “who are
pouring in on our old Rome.”
“To fight them back!” she said.
“Perhaps also to learn from them,” he replied. “When I come back, _if_ I
come back, I will tell you what I have learned. Perhaps I shall find the
Fountain of Youth, and drink of it, and come back young! And if I do, I
will be sure to bring a cup of its precious waters for thee.”
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
CHAPTER IV.
A LETTER FROM ST. PATRICK TO HIS BROTHERS AND SONS.
When the pirates had seized Ethne and Baithene, one sharp cry had rung
through the glen from the faithful clansman who had been watching below,
when a javelin hurled by one of the pirates had pierced his breast,
and silenced him for ever. That cry, though unable to reach Ethne
and Baithene, muffled as they were in their plaids, had alarmed the
household. But, so sudden had been the attack, and so swiftly was the
vessel rowed out of the creek, that she was well out at sea before a boat
could be launched in pursuit. There were nothing but small river coracles
at hand, and the British vessel soon distanced them, and was hopelessly
lost sight of.
Even when they reached the opposite shore of the Irish Sea, the pirates
still seemed in fear of pursuit, and hugged the shore by day, hiding in
creeks, stowing their captives in caves and hollows of the rocks, and
then sailing on by moonlight till they reached the southernmost coasts
of Britain. At last they came to a creek with which they seemed familiar,
carefully steering the vessel through narrow channels between the rocks
into a little sandy cove. This cove was shut in by cliffs hollowed at one
end into a wonderful series of lofty caverns leading one to another like
halls of some palace of the sea-gods.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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