Historical Tales, Vol. 6 | Page 3

this skilled and valiant commander flew
to its relief. To his Roman army he added an army of the Visigoths of
Southern Gaul, under their King Theoderic, and marched to the rescue
of the land. But the gathering of this army took precious time, during
which the foe wrought ruin upon the land. The siege of Orleans had
begun by the time Ætius was fairly ready to begin his march.
In that seemingly doomed city all was terror and dismay. A speedy
capture, a frightful massacre, or a no less frightful enslavement to the
savage Huns, was the dread of the trembling inhabitants. They had no
saint to rescue them by his prayers. All their hope lay in the arms of
their feeble garrison and the encouraging words of their bishop, in
whose heart alone courage seemed to keep alive.
Anianus was the name of this valiant and wise churchman, whose
counsels of hope alone sustained the despairing citizens, whose
diligence and earnestness animated the garrison in its defence. The
siege was fierce, the defence obstinate, the army of relief was known to
be on its way, if they could but hold out till it came. Anianus, counting
the days and hours with intense anxiety, kept a sentinel on the lookout
for the first signs of the advancing host of Romans and Goths. Yet
hours and days went by, and no sign of flashing steel or floating banner
could be seen, until the stout heart of the bishop himself was almost
ready to give way to the despair which possessed so many of the
citizens.
The Huns advanced point by point. They were already in the suburbs.

The walls were shaking beneath the blows of their battering-rams. The
city could not much longer be held. At length came a day which
threatened to end with Orleans in the hands of the ruthless foe. And still
the prayed-for relief came not. Hope seemed at an end.
While such of the people as could not bear arms lay prostrate in prayer,
Anianus, hopeful to the last, sent his messenger to the ramparts to look
for the banners of the Roman army. Far and wide, from his lofty
outlook, the keen-eyed sentinel surveyed the surrounding country. In
vain he looked. No moving object was visible, only the line of the
forest and the far-off bordering horizon. He returned with this
discouraging tidings.
"Go again," said the bishop. "They should have been here before now.
Any minute may bring them. Go again."
The sentinel returned, and again swept the horizon with his eyes, noting
every visible object, seeing nothing to give him hope. With heavy tread
he returned to the bishop, and reported his failure.
"They must be near!" cried Anianus, with nervous impatience. "Go;
look once more. Let nothing escape your eyes."
Back went the messenger, again mounted the rampart, again swept the
plain with his eyes. Nothing,--ah! what was that, on the horizon, at the
very extremity of the landscape, that small, faint cloud, which he had
not seen before? He watched it; it seemed to grow larger and nearer. In
haste he returned to the bishop with the hopeful news.
"I have seen a distant mist, like a far-off cloud of dust," he said. "It is
moving. It comes nearer."
"It is the aid of God!" burst from the lips of the bishop, his heart
suddenly elate with joy. And from the expectant multitude, through
whose ranks ran like wildfire the inspiring tidings, burst the same glad
cry, "It is the aid of God!"
Crowds ran in all haste to the ramparts; hundreds of eyes were fixed on

the far-off, mist-like object; every moment it grew larger and more
distinct; flashes, as of steel, color, as of standards, were gradually
perceived; at last a favorable wind blew aside the dust, and to their
joyful eyes, under this gray canopy, appeared the waving folds of
banners, and under them, in serried array, the squadrons of the Roman
and Gothic troops, pressing forward in all haste to the relief of the
beleaguered city.
Well might the citizens cry, "It is the aid of God!" The army of Ætius
had come not a day, not an hour, too soon. The walls had given way
before the thundering blows of the battering-rams. A breach had been
made through which the Huns were swarming. Only for the desire of
Attila to save the city, it might have been already in flames. As it was,
the savage foes were breaking into the houses in search of plunder, and
dividing such citizens as they had seized into groups to be led into
captivity, when this cry of glad relief broke loudly upon the air.
The news that had aroused the citizens quickly reached the ears of
Attila. A strong army