None now remained but women and children. When the Wallachians broke into the castle, the widow had taken them all to the attics, leaving the door open, that her brothers might find refuge in case they were forced to retreat; and here the weaker members of the family awaited the issue of the combat which was to bring them life or death, listening breathlessly to the uproar, and endeavoring, from its confused sounds, to determine good or evil.
At last the voices died away, and the hideous cries of the besiegers ceased. The trembling women believed that the Wallachians had been driven out, and, breathing more freely, each awaited with impatience the approach of brother--husband--sons.
At last a heavy step was heard on the stairs leading to the garret.
"This is Barnabas's step!" cried the widow, joyfully, and still holding the pistols in her hand, she ran to the door of the garret.
Instead of her expected brother, a savage form, drunken with blood, strode towards her, his countenance burning with rage and triumph.
The widow started back, uttering a shriek of terror, and then with that unaccountable courage of desperation, she aimed one of the pistols at the Wallachian's breast, who instantly fell backwards on one of his comrades, who followed close behind. The other pistol she discharged into her own bosom.
And now we must draw a veil over the scene that followed. What happened there must not be witnessed by human eyes.
Suffice it to say, they murdered every one, women and children, with the most refined and brutal cruelty, and then threw their dead bodies out of the window from which Barnabas had dashed down the iron fragments on the besiegers' heads.
They left the old grandmother to the last, that she might witness the extermination of her whole family. Happily for her, her eyes had ceased to distinguish the light of sun, and ere long the light of an eternal glory had risen upon them.
The Wallachians then dug a common grave for the bodies, and threw them all in together. The little one, whom his parents loved so well, they cast in alive, his nurse having escaped from the attics and carried him downstairs, where they had been overtaken by the savages.
"There are only eleven here!" cried one of the gang, who had counted the bodies, "one of them must be still alive somewhere--there ought to be twelve!" And then they once more rushed through the empty rooms, overturning all the furniture, and cutting up and breaking everything they met with. They searched the garrets and every corner of the cellars, but without success.
At last a yell of triumph was heard. One of them had discovered a door which, being painted of the same color as the walls, had hitherto escaped their observation. It concealed a small apartment in the turret. With a few blows of their axes it was broken open, and they rushed in.
"Ah! a rare booty!" cried the foremost of the ruffians, while, with bloodthirsty curiosity, the others pressed round to see the new victim.
There lay the little orphan with the golden hair; her eyes were closed and a death-like hue had overspread her beautiful features.
Her aunt, with an instinctive foreboding, had concealed her here when she took the others to the attic.
The orphan grasped a sharp knife in her hand, with which she had attempted to kill herself; and when her fainting hands refused the fearful service, she had swooned in despair.
"Ah!" cried the Wallachians, in savage admiration, their bloodthirsty countenances assuming a still more hellish expression.
"This is a common booty!" cried several voices together.
"A beautiful girl! A noble lady! ha, ha! She will just suit the tattered Wallachians!" And with their foul and bloody hands, they seized the young girl by her fair slight arms.
"Ha! what is going on here?" thundered a voice from behind.
The Wallachians looked round.
A figure stood among them fully a head taller than all the rest.
He wore a brass helmet, in which a deep cleft was visible, and held in his left hand a Roman sword. His features bore the ancient Roman character.
"The Decurio!" they murmured, making way for him.
"What is going on here?" he repeated; and seizing the fainting girl in the arms of a Wallachian, he ordered him to lay her down.
"She is one of our enemies," replied the savage insolently.
"Silence, knave! Does one of the Roumin nation seek enemies in women? Lay her down instantly.""Not so, leader," interrupted Lupey; "our laws entitle us to a division of the spoil. This girl is our booty; she belongs to us after the victory.""I know our laws better than you do, churl! Due division of spoil is just and fair; but we cast lots for what cannot be divided.""True, leader: a horse or an ox cannot be divided, and for them we cast lots, but in this case--""I have said it cannot, and I should like to know who dares to say it can!"Lupey knew the Decurio too well to proffer another syllable, and the rest turned silently from the girl; one voice alone was heard to exclaim, "It can!""Who dares to say that?" cried the Decurio; "let him come forward!"A young Wallachian, with long plaited hair, confronted the Decurio.
He was evidently intoxicated, and replied, striking his breast with his fist: "I said so."Scarcely had the words escaped his lips, than the Decurio, raising his left hand, severed the contradictor's head at one stroke from his body; and as it fell back, the lifeless trunk dropped on its knees before the Decurio, with its arms around him, as if in supplication.
"Dare anyone still say it can?" asked Numa, with merciless rigor.
The Wallachians turned silently away.
