"Thou thinkest that, forsooth, thou sharp-witted Suevian!" said old Helmbert, coming to his son's help, "because you know so much more than we; but you do not know everything. Three hundred years ago one had not heard the name of the Alemanni; but our ancestors, the Marcomanni, had already long fiercely fought with the Romans. And at that time victory cradled itself on the wings of the golden eagle. There was, in the golden house of Nero on the Tiber, a great, wise Emperor skilled in magic. He had found out, by his magical arts, that if he made two lions swim across the Danube, the bravest people on the earth would conquer in the impending battle. But our fathers, the Marcomanni, said: 'What yellow dogs are these?'--killed the lions with clubs, and afterwards slew the army of the Emperor and his general: twenty thousand Romans lay dead on their shields. The clever Emperor in Rome knew then which was the bravest people on the earth. And since then we carry two lions on our colours. So sing and tell our bards. Now, continue, Suevian." "That I will, to your glory! Like cats--or if thou, Helmdag, wouldst rather hear it, like lions--sprang the Bajuvaren on to the necks of the Moorish horses, and allowed themselves to be dragged along rather than let go. 'Give to Loge his due,' says a proverb that I have heard among the Anglo-Saxons: the Moors and Isaurians fought desperately, man by man covering the narrow, steep path which only offered space for two horses. At last the Duke came to our help; he brought fresh troops, and now in a sudden attack with levelled spears, pushing our way between the horses, we scattered the whole entangled mass. The Bajuvaren now used their short knives in a hand-to-hand conflict. They ran under the long lances of the Isaurians, sprang on to the saddle of the fully armed Moorish horsemen, and in face and throat--the only vulnerable part--thrust the blade of their daggers; on both sides, now right, now left, fell the enemy, horse and man, over the low breastwork of the Roman wall on to the jagged rocks in the depths below. Nevertheless the battle might have lasted long around the citadel; indeed, hunger alone would have subdued those rock walls if the rest of the enemy, who now at last fled, had gained the gate. But they did _not_ succeed in getting within it. A great deed was done by the hand of a Bajuvarian boy; I saw it plainly: having been overtaken by the Bajuvaren, I was, at last, no longer fighting, but was watching the gate of the fortress, which, high above me, was distinctly visible. I then saw that one of the two Isaurians who there stood on guard, ran towards his fleeing comrades; his movements plainly indicated that he was urging them to still hastier flight into the fortress, before the barbarians should press in with them. The other Isaurian stood on the threshold, holding the iron bolt in his hand, ready to close the half-door from the inside and draw the bolt as soon as the fugitives had poured in. Then,