The Eighth Tribe, 1981 (8. évfolyam, 1-12. szám)
1981-05-01 / 5. szám
May, 1981 THE EICHTH TRIBE Page 5 THE SCOURGE OF GOD In the hand of Atilla, the SWORD OF GOD pointed westward. The Huns cheered. The Earth trembled, as Atilla and his Huns swept down from the East, like a tidal wave of men and horses. They shook the majestic Alps. They flooded the gentle slopes of Thuringia. Before Atilla reached the Rhine, and the Seine, he had conquered the Barbars, the Goths and many other nations, making all of them his vassals. Byzantium trembled and Rome prepared for war. The Huns bore down on Gallia. Where the slopes reached the great open plain, Atilla stopped. He ordered bis men to build a high vantage point from the wagons and saddles, from where lie could have an overall view of the field. From there, he could also be seen by his armies, and could direct them by signals. During the night, the Roman legions arrived and took up their positions opposite the Huns. The camp of the Huns remained quiet. Only the sound of the wind could be heard, as it came wailing across the plains of Champagne. Dawn brought a heavy fog, which covered everything. Then, suddenly, a bugle sounded somewhere. The fog lifted for a moment, and there, against the horizon, outlined by the golden rays of the rising sun, high above the heads of the countless horsemen, stood Atilla, the Scourge of God, As the fog fell again, the frightening sight disappeared. “The Scourge of God and his horsemen.. Roman veterans whispered. 7 rembling, they stared into the fog, waiting for the attack. But nothing moved. Ao sound could be heard. Slowly the sun rose, the fog disappeared, revealing the two armies in all their splendor. While the Roman legions were staring into the blinding sun, the Huns attacked. “Huj-huj! Huj-huj! Hujhuj!” The earth shook beneath the thundering hooves of a hundred thousand horses. The day turned into night from the flying arrows. Man against man, horse against horse, the battle raged all day. The sun set on horror. The cries of the dying mingled with the clang of the swords. As the warriors fell, their souls kept on fighting. That night thousands and thousands of Hun heroes found their way into the seventh heaven of UR, the God of Hosts, the one reserved for those who die in wars. According to the ancient belief, every one of them took with him the souls of those he had killed in the battle, to be his servants in the other world. By daybreak, only Atilla and his Huns remained on the bloody battlefield of Catalaunum. What was left of the Roman legions retreated under the cover of the night. The Huns buried their dead and gathered up the spoils. Then they returned to their homeland, between the Danube and the Tisza Rivers. Here they spent the winter breaking in fresh horses, making new arrowheads, and waiting for the spring to come, with new excitement, new battles and new conquests. Next year, Atilla led the Huns southward. The people of Concordia and Padua fled. The cities of Verona, Brestia and Cremona opened their gates and surrendered. Defenseless, the entire Roman Empire lay at Atilla’s feet, when at last he stood at the gates of Rome. A hundred thousand horsemen surrounded the walls of the ancient city, waiting for Atilla’s order to tear it apart and bu*" it to the ground. Then the gates opened. Under whi ' »lag, Pope Leo, the servant of God, came out, walking barefooted across the field, followed by one hundred priests, praying to their God, and singing hymns. AtiPa, sitting straight on his black charger, met liim halfway. Pope Leo and the Scourge of God stood ti ere, facing each other. One standing barefoot on the ground, the other on horseback. The nan of God looked up, straight into Atilla’s eyes, and spoke in a calm, gentle voice. t
