One day, so we are told, Romilda, gazing from the ramparts of the city, beheld Cacan, the young khan of the Avars, engaged in directing the siege.  So handsome to her eyes appeared the youthful soldier that she fell deeply in love with him at sight, her passion growing until, in disregard of honor and patriotism, she sent him a secret message, offering to deliver up to him the city on condition of becoming his wife.  The khan, though doubtless despising her treachery to her people, was quick to close with the offer, and in a short time Friuli was in his hands.

This accomplished, he returned to Hungary, taking with him Romilda and her children, of whom there were four sons and four daughters.  Cacan kept his compact with the traitress, marrying her with the primitive rites of the Hungarians.  But her married life was of the shortest.  He had kept his word, and such honor as he possessed was satisfied.  The morning after his marriage, moved perhaps by detestation of her treachery, he caused the hapless Romilda to be impaled alive.  It was a dark end to a dark deed, and the perfidy of the woman had been matched by an equal perfidy on the part of the man.

The children of Romilda were left in the hands of the Avars.  Of her daughters, one subsequently married a duke of Bavaria and another a duke of Allemania.  The four sons, one of whom was Grimoald, the hero of our story, managed to escape from their savage captors, though they were hotly pursued.  In their flight, Grimoald, the youngest, was taken up behind Tafo, the oldest; but in the rapid course he lost his hold and fell from his brother’s horse.

Tafo, knowing what would be the fate of the boy should he be captured, turned and galloped upon him lance in hand, determined that he should not fall alive into the hands of his cruel foes.  But Grimoald’s entreaties and Tafo’s brotherly affection induced him to change his resolution, and, snatching up the boy, he continued his flight, the pursuing Avars being now close at hand.

Not far had they ridden before the same accident occurred.  Grimoald again fell, and Tafo was now obliged to leave him to his fate, the fierce pursuers being too near to permit him either to kill or save the unlucky boy.  On swept Tafo, up swept the Avars, and one of them, halting, seized the young captive, threw him behind him on his horse, and rode on after his fellows.

Grimoald’s peril was imminent, but he was a child with the soul of a warrior.  As his captor pushed on in the track of his companions, the brave little fellow suddenly snatched a knife from his belt, and in an instant had stabbed him to the heart with his own weapon Tossing the dead body from the saddle, Grimoald seized the bridle and rode swiftly on, avoiding the Avars, and in the end rejoining his flying brothers.  It was a deed worthy the childhood of one who was in time to become a famous warrior.