s ascended the throne at the age of
fifteen, and at the early age of twenty began to show his jealousy
toward those whom he considered usurpers of his territories. His
courtiers, ever ready to fan into a flame the spark they had
discovered in the breast of their master, incited him to challenge
Syagrius, a Roman who still had possession of Soissons and a part of
the adjacent country.

The challenge was accepted by this self-made prince, and a bloody
battle was the result. Syagrius saved himself by flight, taking refuge
among the Visigoths; but Alaric II., then king, fearing the threats of
Clovis delivered the refugee into his power, who caused him to be
beheaded.

The Frankish leader was now a man of note in the world; but he was
still nothing more than the leader of a band of warriors, often
retaining his authority only by brute force. At one time, his band
having stormed the Christian city of Rheims and carried off from its
church a vase "of marvellous size and beauty," the bishop sent word to
their leader entreating him to return it. "That will I," responded
Clovis to the envoy, "if when we divide our spoil the vase falls to my
lot." In his desire to gratify the bishop, who was an old friend, the
chieftain went a step beyond his promise and requested his companions
to give him the great vase as his share. Then cried one of their
number, striking the trophy angrily with his axe, "No, you shall draw
lots with the rest of us, and take what comes honestly to you." His
comrades, however, felt that this was going too far. The vase was
given to their leader, and by him returned to Rheims. A year passed,
and Clovis gave no sign that he remembered the affront. Then, having
called his band together for a review, he passed them one by one,
examining and approving their arms, till, last of all, he reached the
warrior who had opposed him; and he eyed this man sternly. "Your
weapons suit you poorly," he said, "none of them are fit for service."
And, snatching the man's axe from him he threw it to the ground. The
other stooped to recover it, when, whirling up his own axe, Clovis
crashed it through the rebel's skull. "'Twas so you struck my vase,"
he cried.

Such a leader, who could so long await a fitting opportunity, and then
so sternly avenge an insult to his power, was well calculated to wield
great authority among these stern and hardy warriors. He had enjoyed
several years of uninterrupted tranquillity, when Basinus, King