There was a murmur, and the King exclaimed-- "Now, now, Odo, we know no more of Odin." "Odin knows us no more," retorted the old man, "since we have washed ourselves in the Name of another than the mighty Thor, and taken up the weakly worship of the conquered. So my son would have it! He talked of a new Valhal of the Christian; but let him meet me where he will, he shall not reproach me that he only of all his brethren died unavenged. Where is the slayer? Set him before me that I may strike him dead with one blow!" Lucius crossed himself, looked upwards, and was stepping forwards, when Verronax with a shout of 'Hold!' leapt into the midst, full before the avenger's uplifted weapon, crying-- "Slay me, old man! It was I who killed thy son, I, Fearnagh the Arvernian!" "Ho!" said Odo. "Give me thine hand. Let me feel thee. Yea, these be sinews! It is well. I marvelled how my Odorik should have fallen by the soft Roman hand of yonder stripling; but thou art a worthy foe. What made the priestling thrust himself between me and my prey?" "His generous love," returned Verronax, as Lucius flung himself on his neck, crying-- "O my Verronax, why hast thou come? The bitterness of death was past! The gates were opening." Meanwhile AEmilius had reached Euric, and had made him understand the substitution. Old Odo knew no Latin, and it was the King, an able orator in both tongues, who expounded all in Gothic, showing how Lucius AEmilius had offered his life in the stead of his friend, and how Verronax had hurried to prevent the sacrifice, reiterating, almost in a tone of command, the alternative of the wehrgeld. The lites all burst into acclamations at the nobility of the two young men, and some muttered that they had not thought these Romans had so much spirit. Euric made no decision. He did full justice to the courage and friendship of the youths, and likewise to the fact that Odorik had provoked the quarrel, and had been slain in fair fight; but the choice lay with the father, and perhaps in his heart the politic Visigoth could not regret that Arvernia should lose a champion sure to stand up for Roman or national claims. Odo listened in silence, leaning on his axe. Then he turned his face to the bystanders, and demanded of them-- "Which of them is the bolder? Which of them flinched at my axe?" The spectators were unanimous that neither had blenched. The slender lad had presented himself as resolutely as the stately warrior. "It is well," said Odo. "Either way my son will be worthily avenged. I leave the choice to you, young men." A brief debate ended in an appeal to the Senator, who, in spite of all his fortitude, could not restrain himself from groaning aloud, hiding his face in his hands, and hoarsely saying, "Draw lots." "Yes," said Euric; "commit the judgment to Heaven." It was hailed as a relief; but Lucius stipulated that the lots should be blessed by a Catholic priest, and Verronax muttered impatiently--