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
Soon the fires of the burnt villages and towns smouldered and died out;
and instead came the outposts of the terrible horde itself. Troops of
Tartar horsemen dashed up to the walls of the city; little beardless
brown men with long black hair, man and horse apparently grown into
one, the riders waving their spears as they stood on the backs of their
horses, or stooping underneath to pick up some dropped weapon; the man
apparently an integral development of the horse, the horse not so much
ridden as inspired and possessed by the man. Baithene, gazing at them
for the first time from the walls, in the dusk of the evening, could not
wonder at the rumours that they were not human at all, but the offspring
of witches and demons. From time to time through the darkness came an
unearthly combined yell, like the howl of a wild beast or malignant
demon; and he crossed himself, thought of the exorcism in the baptismal
service, and repeated his renunciation of the devil from the bottom of
his heart. He had to watch through that night, and early in the first
flush of the morning he saw that the horizon was dim with a great cloud
of dust, whilst in the distance, through the silence of the dawn, was
heard the grinding of huge wagon-wheels, with all the tumult of the
movement of a vast multitude.
Slowly the huge host gathered in from all sides, until the confused
hum and murmur began to define itself into various sounds—the creaking
of wheels, the cracking of whips, the lowing of oxen, the neighing of
horses, the harsh voices of men, the shrill voices of women, even the
wailing of babes; and through all the deep under-hum of an enormous mass
of human beings in motion. The hearts of the men on the walls quailed
with a weird terror; for through all came the unfamiliar cadences of wild
foreign speech, with a sense that this living mass which was closing in
around them with deadly purpose, to plunder and kill, to burn and to
destroy, was pouring forth from the unknown boundless spaces of savage
wildernesses, an interminable tide of destruction swelling up as from
some unfathomable abyss of hell.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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