While the Goths were assembling at Regeta, the powerful army of Belisarius had invested the hard-pressed city of Neapolis in a wide semicircle.
Rapid and irresistible as a fire in dry heather, the army of the Byzantines had advanced from the southernmost point of Italy to the walls of the Parthenopeian town, meeting with no resistance, for, thanks to Theodahad's manœuvres, not a thousand Goths were to be found in all these parts. The short skirmish at the Pass of Jugum was the only hindrance with which the Greeks had met.
The Roman inhabitants of Bruttia, with its towns, Regium, Vibo and Squillacium, Tempsa and Croton, Ruscia and Thurii; of Calabria, with Gallipolis, Tarentum, and Brundusium; of Lucania, with Velia and Buxentum; of Apulia, with Acheruntia and Canusium, Salernum, Nuceria, and Campsæ, and many other towns, had received Belisarius with joy, when, in the name of the Emperor, he promised them deliverance from the yoke of the heretics and barbarians.
To the Aufidus on the east and the Sarnus on the south-west, Italy was wrested from the Goths; and the walls of Neapolis was the first obstacle which broke the rush of the inimical flood which was threatening to overwhelm all Italy.
The camp of Belisarius was worthy of the name of a splendid spectacle. In the north, before the Porta Nolana, stood the camp of the "bloody" Johannes. To his care was entrusted the Via Nolana, and the task of forcing the way to Rome. There, on the wide levels, in the corn-fields of the industrious Goths, the Massagetæ and the yellow-skinned Huns exercised their small rough horses.
Near them were encamped the light-foot of the Persian mercenaries, dressed in linen coats, and armed with bows and arrows; heavy Armenian shield-bearers; Macedonians with lances ten feet long, called sarrissi; and large troops of Thessalian, Thracian and Saracen horsemen, who, condemned to a hated inactivity during the siege, did their best to occupy their leisure time by inroads into the neighbouring country.
The camp in the centre, exactly on the east of the city, was occupied by the main army; Belisarius's large tent of blue Sidonian silk, with its purple standard, towered in the middle. Here strutted the body-guard which Belisarius himself had armed and paid, and which only those who had distinguished themselves by valiant deeds were allowed to join, gay in richly-gilded breast-plates and greaves, bronze shields, broad-swords, and halberd-like lances. These men were frequently promoted to the highest rank.
The kernel of the foot-soldiers was formed by eight thousand Illyrians, the only worthy troop sent by Greece itself; and here, too, were encamped, under the command of their native chiefs, the Avari, Bulgarians, Sarmatians, and even Germans, as well as Herulians and Gepidæ, whom Belisarius was obliged to enlist at a heavy price, in order to cover the want of native soldiery. Here, too, were the Italian emigrants and many deserters.
Finally, the south-western camp, which stretched along the coast, was commanded by Martinus, who superintended the service of the implements of siege. Here stood, stored up, the catapults and balistæ, the rams and slings; here mingled Isaurian allies and the contingents sent by newly-recovered Africa; Moorish and Numidian horsemen and Libyan slingers. And almost all the barbaric races of three-quarters of the globe had here their representatives; Bajuvars from the Donau, Alemanni from the Rhine, Franks from the Maas, Burgundians from the Rhone, Antæ from the Dniester, Lazians from the Phasis, and the Abasgi, Siberians, Lebanthians and Lycaonians from Asia and Africa, all well skilled in archery.
Out of such heterogeneous materials was the army composed, with which Justinian hoped to drive away the Gothic barbarians and liberate Italy.
The command of the outposts, always and everywhere, was entrusted to the body-guard; and the chain of stations extended round the city from the Porta Capuana almost to the waves of the sea.
Neapolis was badly fortified and weakly garrisoned. Less than a thousand Goths were there to defend the extensive ramparts against an army of forty thousand Byzantines and Italians.
Earl Uliaris, the commander of the city, was a brave man, and had sworn by his beard not to deliver up the fortress. But even he would not have been long able to withstand the far superior force and generalship of Belisarius, had not a fortunate circumstance come to his assistance. This was the premature return of the Grecian fleet to Byzantium. When, namely, Belisarius, after having rested his troops and re-ordered his army in Regium, had given the command for a general advance of the land and sea forces to Neapolis, his navarchus Konon had showed him an order from the Emperor, till then kept secret, according to which the fleet was to sail, immediately after landing the troops, to Nicopolis on the Grecian coast, under the pretext of fetching reinforcements, but in reality to fetch Prince Germanus, the nephew of Justinian, with his imperial lancers, to Italy, where he was to observe, control, and, in case of need, check the victorious steps of Belisarius, and, as commander-in-chief, to protect the interests of the suspicious Emperor.
With deep vexation Belisarius saw his fleet set sail just at the moment when he needed it most, and he only succeeded, after much urgency, in gaining the promise of the navarchus to send him four war-triremes, which were still cruising off Sicily. So Belisarius, when he prepared to besiege Neapolis, was, indeed, able to enclose the city to the north-east, east, and north-west with his land forces--the western road to Rome, defended by the castellum Tiberii, was successfully kept by Earl Uliaris--but he was not able to blockade the harbour nor prevent free communication by sea.
At first he comforted himself with the fact that the besieged likewise had no fleet, and could therefore derive little benefit from this freedom of movement; but now he was, for the first time, baffled by the talent and temerity of an adversary whom he afterwards learned to fear.
This was Totila, who had scarcely reached Neapolis after the fight at the pass, had scarcely aided Julius in showing the last honours to the remains of Valerius, and in drying Valeria's first tears, than he began, with restless activity, to create a fleet out of nothing. He was commodore of the squadron at Neapolis, but King Theodahad, as we know, had, in spite of his remonstrances, ordered the whole fleet out of the way of Belisarius to Pisa, where it was appointed to guard the mouth of the Arnus. So, from the very beginning, Totila had nothing under his command but three small guard-ships, two of which he had later lost off Sicily; and he had returned to Neapolis despairing of every possibility of defending the city towards the sea. But when he heard the incredible news of the return home of the Byzantine fleet his hopes revived, and he did not rest until he had--out of fishing-boats, merchant-craft, harbour-boats, and the hastily-repaired disabled ships on the wharves--formed a little fleet of about twelve sail, which could neither defy a storm at sea nor cope with a single man-of-war, but could still do good service, such as to provide Baiæ, Cumæ and other towns to the north-west, which would otherwise have been completely cut off, with victuals; to observe the movements of the enemy on the coast, and plague them with repeated attacks; in which Totila himself often landed in the south at the rear of the Grecian camp, surprised--now here, now there--some troop of the enemy, and spread such insecurity, that the Byzantines at last only ventured to leave the camp in strong detachments, and never dared to stray far, while Totila's success gave fresh courage to the hard-pressed garrison of Neapolis, who were wearied by incessant watching and frequent combats.
Notwithstanding this partial success, Totila could not hide from himself that his position was very grave and that as soon as a few Grecian ships should appear before the city it would be desperate.
He therefore used a portion of his boats to convoy a number of the unarmed inhabitants of Neapolis to Baiæ and Cumæ, angrily repelling the demand of the rich, that this means of safety should be granted only to those who paid for it; and taking rich and poor, without distinction, into his saving vessels.
In vain had Totila repeatedly and earnestly begged Valeria to fly in one of these ships, under the protection of Julius; she would not yet leave the tomb of her father; she would not part from her lover, whose praise as protector of the city she was only too much delighted to hear proclaimed by all voices.
So she continued to reside in her old home in the city, indulging in her sorrow and in her love.
It was at this time that Miriam experienced the greatest joy and the keenest sorrow that she had ever known.
She could sun herself more frequently than ever in the presence of the man she loved, for the Porta Capuana was an important point of the fortifications, and Totila was obliged to visit it often. He daily held conferences with Earl Uliaris in old Isaac's tower.
At such times Miriam, when she had greeted the guests, and served the simple meal of fruit and wine, used to slip into the narrow little garden which lay close under the walls of the tower.
This place had been, originally, a small court belonging to an ancient Temple of Minerva, the "wall-protectress," to whom altars had been gratefully erected at the principal gates of various towns.
The altar had disappeared centuries ago, but the gigantic olive-tree, which had once shaded the statue dedicated to the goddess, still stretched its boughs aloft, while flowers, cherished by Miriam's loving hand, and which she had often plucked for the bride of the man whom she hopelessly loved, filled the air with perfume.
Exactly opposite the tree, whose knotted roots protruded from the earth, disclosing a dark opening in the ground-floor of the old temple, there had been placed a large black cross, and below it a little praying stool, which was made out of one of the marble steps of the temple.
The Christians loved to subject the remains of the ancient worship to the service of the new, and to drive out the old gods, now become demons, by the symbols of their victorious faith.
The beautiful Jewess often sat for hours under this cross with old Arria, the half-blind widow of the under doorkeeper, who, after the early death of Isaac's wife, had, with motherly love, watched little Miriam bloom together with her flowers amid the desolate ruins of the old walls.
Twice a day did Uliaris and Totila thus meet; reporting their losses or successes and examining the probability of saving the city.
But on the tenth day of the siege, before dawn, Uliaris hastened on board Totila's "admiral" ship, a rotten fishing-boat, and found the commander sleeping on deck, covered by a ragged sail.
"What is it!" cried Totila, starting up and still dreaming; "the enemy? where?"
"No, my boy; this time it is again Uliaris, and not Belisarius, who awakens thee. But, by the Thunderer! this cannot last much longer!"
"Uliaris, thou bleedest! thy head is bandaged!"
"Bah! 'twas but a stray arrow! Fortunately no poisoned one. I got it last night. Thou must know that things are at a bad pass; much worse than ever before. The bloody Johannes--may God slay him!--digs under our Castle Tiberius like a badger, and if he getsthat--then farewell, Neapolis! Yester even he finished a battery upon the hill above us, and now he throws burning arrows upon our heads. I tried last night to drive him out of his works, but it was no use. They were seven to one against us, and I gained nothing by it but this wound on my grey head."
"The battery must come down," said Totila reflectively.
"The devil it must! but it will not! I have still more to tell. The citizens begin to get unruly. Belisarius daily shoots a hundred blunt arrows into the city, to which is tied the inscription: 'Rebel for freedom!' They have more effect than a thousand pointed darts. Already, here and there, stones are cast from the roofs upon my poor fellows. If this goes on--we cannot, with a thousand men, keep off forty thousand Greeks outside and thirty thousand Neapolitans inside. Therefore I think--" and his eyes looked very gloomy.
"What thinkest thou?"
"We will burn down a portion of the city--at least the suburbs----"
"So that the inhabitants may like us all the better? No, Uliaris, they shall not have cause to call us 'barbarians.' I know of better means--they are starving; yesterday I brought in four shiploads of oil, com, and wine; this I will divide amongst them."
"Oil and corn if thou wilt! But not the wine! That I claim for my Goths. They have drunk cistern-water long enough, the nasty stuff!"
"Good, thirsty hero, you shall have the wine for yourselves."
"Well? and still no news from Ravenna, or from Rome?"
"None! Yesterday I sent off my fifth messenger."
"May God destroy our King! Listen, Totila, I don't believe we shall ever get alive out of these worm-eaten walls."
"Nor I either," said Totila quietly, and offered his guest a cup of wine.
Uliaris looked at him; then he drank and said:
"Dear fellow! thou art pure as gold, and thy Cæcubian too. And if I must die here, like an old bear amongst the dogs--I am at least glad that I have learned to know thee so well; thee and thy Cæcubian."
With this rough but friendly speech the grey old Goth left the ship.
Totila sent corn and wine to the garrison in the castle, with which the soldiers regaled themselves far into the night.
But the next morning, when Uliaris looked forth from the tower of the castle, he rubbed his eyes. For on the battery upon the hill waved the blue flag of the Goths.
Totila had landed in the night in the rear of the enemy, and had taken the works by storm.
But this new act of audacity only increased the anger of Belisarius. He swore to make an end of the troublesome boats at any price. To his great joy the four triremes from Sicily just then appeared in the offing. Belisarius ordered that they should at once force their way into the harbour of Neapolis, and spoil the handiwork of "those pirates." On the evening of the same day the four immense ships cast anchor at the entrance of the harbour. Belisarius himself visited the coast with his followers, and rejoiced at the sight of the sails, gilded by the evening sun.
"The rising sun shall see them inside the harbour, in spite of that bold youth," he said to Antonina, who accompanied him, and turned his dappled-greys back to the camp.
The next morning he had not yet left his camp-bed--Procopius was standing near him, reading the sketch of a report to Justinian--when Chanaranzes, the Persian, the leader of the body-guard, entered the tent, and cried: "The ships, general! the ships are taken!"
Belisarius sprang from his couch in a rage.
"He dies who says it!"
"It would be better," observed Procopius, "that he should die who did it!"
"Who was it?"
"Oh, sir, the young Goth with the sparkling eyes and shining hair!"
"Totila!" exclaimed Belisarius, "Totila, again!"
"The crew were lying, partly on shore with my outposts, partly on deck, sound asleep. Suddenly, at midnight, all around became as lively as if a hundred ships had risen out of the sea."
"A hundred ships! Ten nutshells!"
"In a moment, long before we could come to their help from the shore, the ships were boarded, the crews taken prisoners, one of the triremes, whose cable could not be cut quickly enough, set on fire, and the others towed off to Neapolis!"
"Your ships have entered the harbour sooner than you expected, O Belisarius," observed Procopius.
But Belisarius had recovered his self-control.
"Now that the bold boy has ships of war, he will become unbearable! There must be an end to this."
He pressed his helmet upon his majestic head.
"I would willingly have spared the city and the Roman inhabitants; but I can wait no longer. Procopius, go and summon the generals; Magnus, Demetrius and Constantinus, Bessas and Ennes, and Martinus, the master of artillery; I will give them enough to do. The barbarians shall not rejoice in their victory; they shall learn to know Belisarius."
Shortly there appeared in the tent of the commander a man who, in spite of the breast-plate which he wore, had more the air of a scholar than of a warrior.
Martinus, the great mathematician, was of a gentle, peaceful nature, which had long found its sole happiness in the quiet study of Euclid. He could not bear to see blood flow, and was even sorry to pluck a flower. But his mathematical and mechanical studies had one day accidentally led him to invent a new projectile of fearful power. He showed the plan to Belisarius, and he, delighted, would not let him alone, but dragged him before the Emperor, and obliged him to become "master of artillery to themagister militum, for the East"--namely, the assistant of Belisarius himself. He received a splendid salary, and was obliged by contract to invent one new machine of war yearly.
Then the gentle mathematician, with many sighs, invented those terrible tools of destruction which overthrew the walls of fortresses, shattered the gates of castles, hurled inextinguishable fire into the towns of Justinian's enemies, and destroyed human lives by thousands.
Every year Martinus delighted in the mathematical problems which he set himself to do; but as soon as the riddle was solved and the work completed, he thought with horror of the effects of his inventions. Therefore he now appeared before Belisarius with a sorrowful countenance.
"Martinus! circle-turner!" cried Belisarius as he entered, "now show your art! How many catapults, balistæ, and sling-machines have we in all?"
"Three hundred and fifty, general."
"'Tis well! Divide them along our whole line of siege. In the north, before the Porta Capuana and the castle, set the rams against the walls; down they must come, were they made of diamonds! From the central camp direct the projectiles in a curve, so that they may fall into the streets of the city. Make every effort; do not cease a moment for twenty-four hours; let the troops relieve each other; let all the machines play!"
"All, general?" asked Martinus. "The new ones too? The pyrobalistæ, the hot projectiles?"
"Those too; those most of all!"
"General, they are horrible! You do not yet know their effect."
"Well, I shall now see what it is, and put them to the proof."
"Upon this splendid city? On the Emperor's city? Will you win for Justinian a heap of ashes?"
Belisarius had a great and noble soul. He was angry with himself, with Martinus, and with the Goths.
"Can I do otherwise?" he asked impatiently. "These stiff-necked Goths, this foolhardy Totila, force me to it. Five times have I offered capitulation. It is madness! Not three thousand men stand behind these walls! By the head of Justinian! why do not the fifty thousand Neapolitans rise and disarm the barbarians?"
"No doubt they fear your Huns more than their Goths," observed Procopius.
"They are bad patriots! Forward, Martinus! In an hour Neapolis must burn!"
"In a shorter time," sighed the mathematician, "if it must be so. I have brought with me a man who is well-informed; who can help us much, and simplify the work. He is a living plan of the city. May I bring him in?"
Belisarius nodded, and the sentry called in a little Jewish-looking man.
"Ah! Jochem, the architect!" said Belisarius. "I knew you at Byzantium. You were to rebuild the church of St. Sophia. What became of that project?"
"By your leave, general, nothing."
"Why not?"
"My plan only amounted to a million centenaria of gold; that was too little for his Imperial Majesty. For the more a Christian church costs, the more holy and pleasing to God. A Christian asked double the amount, and got the order."
"But still I saw you building in Byzantium?"
"Yes, general, my plan pleased the Emperor. I changed it a little, took out the altar-place, and afterwards built from it a riding-school."
"You know Neapolis thoroughly--outside and inside?"
"Outside and inside--as well as my moneybag."
"'Tis well. You will direct the machines for the strategist against the walls and into the city. The houses of the friends of the Goths must come down first. Forward! Mind and do your business well, or else you will be impaled! Away!"
"The poor city!" sighed Martinus. "But you will see, Jochem, how exact are the pyrobalistæ; and they work so easily, a child could manage them. And they act so splendidly!"
And now in all the camp began a monstrous and danger-pregnant activity.
The Gothic sentinels upon the ramparts saw how the heavy machines, drawn by twenty to thirty horses, camels, asses, or oxen, were brought before the walls, and divided along the whole line.
Totila and Uliaris went anxiously to the walls and tried to meet this new danger with effectual means of defence.
Sacks filled with earth were let down before the places threatened by the rams; firebrands were laid ready to set the machines on fire as they approached; boiling water, arrows, and stones were to be directed against the teams and drivers; and already the Goths laughed at the cowardly enemy when they noticed that the machines halted far out of the usual range of shot, and completely out of the reach of the besieged.
But Totila did not laugh.
He was alarmed to see the Byzantines quietly unharness the teams and arrange their machines. Not a projectile had yet been hurled.
"Well," mocked young Agila, who stood near Totila, "do they mean to shoot at us fromthatdistance? They had better do it at once from Byzantium, across the sea! That would be still safer!"
He had not ceased to speak, when a forty-pound stone knocked him, and a portion of the rampart upon which he stood, to pieces.
Martinus had increased the range threefold.
Totila saw that they were completely without defence against these terrible projectiles.
The Goths sprang horrified from the walls, and sought shelter in the streets, houses, and churches. In vain! Thousands and thousands of arrows, spears, heavy beams, and stones hurtled and hissed in infallible curves upon their heads; whole blocks of rock came flying through the air, and fell crashing through the woodwork and slabs of the strongest roofs; while in the north the rams thundered unceasingly against the castle with ponderous strokes.
While the thick hail of projectiles literally darkened the air, the noise of breaking beams, the rattling fall of stones, the shattering of the ramparts, and the cries of the wounded deafened the ear.
The trembling inhabitants fled terrified into the cellars and vaults of their houses, cursing both Belisarius and the Goths.
But the horrified city had not yet experienced the worst.
In the market-place, the Forum of Trajan, near the harbour, stood an uncovered building, a sort of ship's arsenal, heaped up with old, well-dried timber, tow, flax, tar, and other combustible materials. Into this building came, hissing and steaming, a strange projectile, and immediately a flame shot high into the air, and, fed by the inflammable materials, spread with the speed of the wind.
The besiegers outside greeted the pillars of smoke which now arose with cries of exultation, and directed arrows and darts upon the place, to prevent the inhabitants from extinguishing the fire.
Belisarius rode up to Martinus.
"Capital, man of the circle!" he cried. "Capital! Who aimed the shot?"
"I," said Jochem. "Oh! you will be satisfied with me, general. Now, pay attention. Do you see that large house with the statues upon the flat roof, to the right of the fire? That is the house of the Valerians, the greatest enemies of the people of Edom. Attention! It shall burn."
The fiery projectile flew hissing through the air, and immediately a second flame rose out of the city.
Just then Procopius galloped up and cried:
"Belisarius, your general, Johannes, greets you. The Castle of Tiberius burns, and the first wall is down!"
And such was the fact; and soon, in all parts of the city, four, six, ten houses were in flames.
"Water!" cried Totila, galloping through a burning street near the harbour. "Come out, you citizens of Neapolis! Extinguish your houses! I can spare no Goths from the walls. Get barrels of water from the harbour into all the streets! The women into the houses!--What do you want, girl? leave me.--Is it you, Miriam? You here--among the flames and arrows? Away! whom do you seek?"
"You," said the girl. "Do not be alarmed. Her house burns, but she is saved."
"Valeria! For God's sake, where is she?"
"With me. In our strong tower--there she is safe. I saw the flames. I hastened to the house. Your friend with the soft voice was carrying her out of the ruins; he wanted to take her into the church. I called to him, and persuaded him to bring her to the tower. She bleeds. A stone wounded her upon the shoulder, but there is no danger. She wishes to see you, and I came to seek you!"
"Thanks, child! But come, come away;" and he took hold of her arm, and swung her up to his saddle.
Trembling, she wound both arms about his neck. He held his broad shield over her head with his left hand, and galloped off with her through the smoking streets to the Porta Capuana.
"Oh! would that I might die now," murmured Miriam to herself; "now, upon his breast, if not with him!"
In the tower Totila found Valeria, stretched upon Miriam's bed, under the care of Julius and her female slaves. She was pale and weak from loss of blood, but composed and quiet.
Totila flew to her side. Miriam stood at the window with a beating heart, and looked silently at the burning city.
Totila had scarcely convinced himself that the wound was very slight, than he again sprang up and cried:
"You must go! Immediately! This very moment! In another hour Belisarius may storm the city. I have once more filled my ships with fugitives. They will take you to Cajeta, and thence to Rome. Afterwards you must hasten to Taginæ to your estate. Julius will accompany you."
"Yes," said Julius, "for we go the same way."
"The same way? Whither art thou bound?"
"To Gaul, to my home. I cannot bear to see this terrible struggle any longer. You know well that all Italy has risen against you. My fellow-countrymen fight under Belisarius. Shall I raise my hand against them, or against you? I will go."
Totila turned silently to Valeria.
"My friend," she said, "it seems to me that our star has set for ever! Scarcely has my father gone to lay your oath at the throne of God, than Neapolis, the third city of the realm, falls."
"So you have no faith in our swords?"
"I have faith in your swords, but not in your good fortune! With the falling rafters of my father's house fall all my hopes. Farewell, for a long, long time! I obey you; I will go to Taginæ."
Totila and Julius now went out with the slaves to secure places in one of the triremes.
Valeria rose from the bed; Miriam hurried to her to fasten the shining sandals upon her feet.
"Let it alone, maiden; you must not serve me!" said Valeria.
"I do it gladly," whispered Miriam; "but permit me a question." Her sparkling eyes were fixed upon Valeria's composed features. "You are beautiful and clever and proud--but tell me, do you love him? You are able to leave him at such a moment. Do you love him with devouring, irresistible ardour? do you love him with such a love as----"
"As yours?" Valeria pressed the lovely girl's glowing face to her bosom, as if in protection. "No, my sweet sister! Do not be startled. I guessed it long ago from his accounts of you. And I saw it at once in your first look at him to-day. Do not be anxious; your secret is safe with me. No one shall learn it. Do not weep, do not tremble, you sweet child. I love you the better for the sake of your love. I quite understand it. He is happy who, like you, can indulge his feelings at such a moment. But an inimical God has bestowed upon me a mind that ever looks forward, and so I see before us unknown pain and a long dark path which ends not in light. But I cannot allow you to think your love the more noble because it is hopeless. My hopes, too, are ashes! Perhaps it would have been happier for him had he discovered the scented rose of your love--for Valeria, I fear, will never be his! But farewell, Miriam. They come. Remember our meeting! Remember me as a sister, and take my warmest thanks. Thanks for your faithful love!"
Miriam had trembled like a child found out in a fault, and would have gladly run out of Valeria's sight, who seemed to see through everything. But these noble sentiments overcame her timidity, and tears flowed plentifully over her glowing cheeks. Trembling with shame and weeping, she leaned her head upon her new friend's breast. They heard Julius coming to call Valeria. They were obliged to part.
Miriam cast a rapid glance at the face of the Roman lady; and then she threw herself on the ground before her, embraced her knees, pressed a burning kiss upon her cold hand, and disappeared into the next room.
Valeria rose as if from a dream, and looked about her. In a vase on the window-sill stood a dark-red rose. Valeria kissed it, and put it into the bosom of her dress, blessed, with the motion of her hand, the place which had afforded her an asylum, and then followed Julius, who took her in a closed litter to the harbour, where she had time to take a short leave of Totila, before she went on board with Julius. Shortly afterwards the ship set sail, and moved proudly out of the harbour.
Totila looked after it. He saw Valeria's white hand signing a farewell. He looked and looked at the lessening sail, little heeding the projectiles which now began to fall thicker into the harbour. He leaned against a pillar, and, for a moment, forgot the burning town and everything around him.
Thorismuth roused him from his reverie.
"Come, commodore!" he cried. "I have been seeking thee everywhere. Uliaris wishes to speak to thee.--Come, why dost thou stand here, gazing at the sea among all these whizzing arrows?"
Totila slowly raised himself.
"Seest thou," he said, "seest thou yonder ship? There they leave me----"
"Who?" asked Thorismuth.
"My good-fortune and my youth," said Totila, and turned to seek Uliaris.
Uliaris told him that, in order to gain time, he had proposed an armistice of three hours, which Belisarius, who wished for a parley, had accepted.
"I will never capitulate! But we must have time to repair and strengthen our walls. Will reinforcements never come? Hast thou still no news from the King by sea?"
"None."
"The devil! Above six hundred of my Goths have fallen under these hellish projectiles. I cannot even fill the most important posts. If I had but four hundred men more!"
"Well," said Totila, reflecting, "I think I can procure thee these. In the Castellum Aurelium, on the road to Rome, lie four hundred and fifty men. Until now they have declared that they received from King Theodahad the unreasonable but strict order, on no account to aid in defending Neapolis. But in this, great necessity--I will go myself, during the armistice, and do all I can to bring them."
"Do not go! The truce will have ended before thy return, and then the road will be no longer safe. Thou canst not get through."
"I will get through by force or by cunning. Only keep firm until I am back. Up! Thorismuth, to horse!"
While Totila, with Thorismuth and a few horsemen, galloped out of the Porta Capuana, old Isaac, who had remained bravely on the walls without tiring, took advantage of the armistice to return to his house, see his daughter, and refresh himself with meat and wine.
As Miriam was bringing these, and anxiously listening to Isaac's report of the progress of the siege, a hasty and unsteady foot was heard upon the steps, and Jochem appeared before the astonished pair.
"Son of Rachel, whence comest thou in an evil hour, like a raven before misfortune? How couldst thou enter? By what door?"
"That is my affair. I come, Father Isaac, once more to demand thy daughter's hand--for the last time in my life."
"Is this a time for wooing and wedding?" asked Isaac indignantly. "The city burns, and the streets are full of corpses."
"Why does the city burn? Why are the streets full of corpses? Because the people of Neapolis hold by the people of Edom. Yes, thisisthe time to woo. Give me thy child. Father Isaac, and I will save thee and her. I alone can do so."
And he attempted to take Miriam's hand.
"Thou saveme!" she cried, starting back in disgust. "Rather would I die!"
"Ha, proud girl!" cried the angry wooer; "thou wouldst be saved by the fair-haired Christian? Let us see if he can save thee--the cursed fellow!--from Belisarius and me. Ha! I will drag him through the streets by his long yellow hair, and spit in his pale face!"
"Get thee away, son of Rachel!" said Isaac, rising and taking up his spear. "I see thou art a friend of those who lie outside--the horn sounds the recall; I must go down. But this I tell thee: many amongst you will fall back dead before they can climb over these rotten walls."
"Perhaps," growled Jochem, "we shall fly over them, like the birds of the air. For the last time, Miriam, I ask thee: Wilt thou leave this old man and the cursed Christian? I tell thee the ruins of these walls will soon cover them. I know that thou hast taken the Goth to thy heart; but that I will forgive thee if only thou wilt be my wife."
And again he tried to take her hand.
"Thou wilt forgive me my love? Forgive what stands as high above thee as the sun above the creeping worm? Should I be worthy to look upon his face if I could become thy wife? Away! begone!"
"Ha!" cried Jochem, "too much! too much! My wife! Never shalt thou be my wife; but thou shalt struggle in my arms, and I will tear the Christian out of thy bleeding heart as it withers in despair! Thou shalt see me again!"
And he left the room, and soon disappeared from the precincts of the city.
Miriam, oppressed by anxious thoughts, hurried into the open air. She felt that she must pray; but not in the close synagogue. She would pray forhim, and she would pray tohisGod. She shyly ventured into the neighbouring Basilica of St. Maria, whence, in peaceful times, the Jewess had often been driven with curses.
But now the Christians had no time to curse.
She crouched in a dark corner of the chancel, and soon forgot herself, the city, and the world, in fervent prayer.
She was alone withhimand with God.
Meanwhile, the last hour of the armistice was drawing to a close. The sun already declined to the surface of the sea.
The Goths repaired and filled up the breaches of the walls with all diligence, carried away the rubbish and the dead, and extinguished the fires.
For the third time the sands of the hour-glass ran out, while Belisarius, in front of his tent and surrounded by his generals, was awaiting the signal of capitulation from the Castle of Tiberius.
"I don't believe in it," whispered Johannes to Procopius. "He who gives such blows as I have seen given by that old man will never surrender. And it is better so; then there will be a famous storming, and afterwards a famous plundering."
Earl Uliaris now appeared upon the ramparts of the castle, and hurled his spear defiantly among the waiting sentries.
Belisarius sprang up.
"The fools desire their own destruction! Well, they shall be gratified. Up, generals! to the attack! Whoever is the first to plant our standard on the walls shall have a tenth part of the booty!"
The leaders hurried away on all sides, spurred by avarice and ambition.
Johannes was just turning the ruined arch of an aqueduct, which Belisarius had destroyed in order to deprive the besieged of water, when he heard a low voice calling his name.
It was already so dark that he with difficulty recognised the man who had spoken.
"What do you want, Jew!" asked Johannes. "I have no time to lose. There is hard work to be done. I must be the first into the city."
"That you shall be, and without hard work, if you will follow me."
"Follow you? Do you know a way through the air over the walls?"
"No; but through the earthunderthe walls. And I will show it you if you give me a thousand solidi, and promise me a certain girl as booty."
Johannes stood still.
"You shall have what you like! Where is this way?"
"Here!" said Jochem, and struck the masonry with his hand.
"What? The aqueduct? How do you know?"
"I built it. A man can creep through it; there is no more water in it. I have just come this way out of the city. The passage leads into an old temple at the Porta Capuana. Take thirty men and follow me!"
Johannes looked sharply at him.
"And if you deceive me?"
"I will walk between your drawn swords. If I lie, kill me."
"Wait," cried Johannes, and hurried away.
Shortly afterwards Johannes again appeared, accompanied by his brother Perseus and about thirty brave Armenian mercenaries, who carried, besides their swords, short battle-axes.
"As soon as we are inside, Perseus," said Johannes, "you must break open the sally-port to the right of the Porta Capuana at the moment when the others unfold our flag upon the walls. At this signal my Huns, who wait outside, will rush into the sally-port. But who keeps the tower at the gate? Him we must have."
"Isaac, a great friend of the Edomites. He must die!"
"He dies!" said Johannes, and drew his sword. "Forward!"
He was the first to enter the passage of the aqueduct.
"Paukares and Gubazes, take the Jew between you. At the first suspicion, down with him!"
And so, now creeping on all fours, now stooping and cautiously feeling their way, in complete obscurity, the Armenians slid and crept after Johannes, taking care not to make any noise with their weapons.
All at once Johannes cried in a low voice:
"Hold the Jew! down with him! Enemies! Arms! No, no; let him alone!" he added quickly. "It was only a snake that rustled past me. Forward!"
"Now to the right," said the Jew; "here the passage leads into the temple."
"What lies here?--bones?--a skeleton! I can bear it no longer! The mouldy smell suffocates me! Help!" sighed one of the men.
"Let him lie! Forward!" ordered Johannes. "I see a star!"
"It is the daylight in Neapolis," said Jochem; "only a few steps more."
Johannes's helmet struck against the roots of a tall olive-tree, which spread over the mouth of the passage in the atrium of the temple. We know this tree. As he avoided the roots, Johannes struck his helmet with a loud jingle against the side wall; he stopped short in alarm. But he only heard the rapid flutter of the wings of numerous pigeons which flew startled out of the branches of the olive-tree.
"What was that?" said a hoarse voice above him. "How the wind howls in the old ruins!"
It was the widow Arria.
"O God!" she cried, kneeling before the cross, "deliver us from evil! Let not the city fall until my Jucundus returns! Alas! if he does not find his mother! Oh, let him again come the way he went that unhappy day, when he descended into the secret labyrinth to seek the hidden treasure! Show him to me as I saw him last night in my dream, rising up from below the roots of the tree!"
And she turned to look at the hole.
"O dark passage! into which my happiness disappeared, give it up to me again! God! by this way lead him back to me."
She stood exactly before the opening with folded hands, her eyes piously raised to heaven.
Johannes hesitated as he issued from the hole and perceived her.
"She prays," he murmured. "Shall I kill her whilst praying!"
He waited; he hoped that she would turn away.
"It lasts too long! God knows I cannot help it!"
And he got quickly out from among the roots.
The old woman now raised her half-blind eyes; she saw a glittering form rise from the earth. A ray of ecstasy flashed across her features. She spread out her arms.
"Jucundus!" she cried.
It was her last breath.
The sword of the Byzantine had pierced her heart.
Without a cry, a smile upon her lips, she sank down amid the flowers; Miriam's flowers.
Johannes turned and quickly helped up his brother Perseus, and then the Jew and the first three soldiers.
"Where is the sally-port?"
"Here to the left. I will go and open it!"
Perseus directed the soldiers.
"Where are the steps to the tower?"
"Here on the right," answered Jochem--it was the staircase which led to Miriam's chamber--how often had Totila slipped in there! "Be quiet! I hear the old man."
It was really Isaac.
He had heard the noise from above; he came to the top of the steps with his torch and spear.
"Who is it down there? is it thou, Miriam? who comes?" he asked.
"I, Father Isaac," answered Jochem; "I wished once more to ask----" and he stealthily went up another step.
But Isaac heard the rattle of arms.
"Who is with thee!" he asked, advancing and holding out his torch. He now saw the armed men crouching behind Jochem.
"Treachery! treachery!" he screamed; "die, thou blot upon the Hebrews!" and he furiously struck his broad partisan into Jochem's heart, who could not retreat.
Jochem fell dead among the soldiers.
"Treachery!" again cried Isaac.
But the next moment Johannes struck him down, sprang over his corpse, hurried to the ramparts, and unfolded the flag of Byzantium.
Below the axes were busy; the sally-port fell, beaten down from within, and with shrill cries--it was already quite dark--the Huns rushed by thousands into the city.
All was over.
A portion filled the streets with carnage; one troop broke open the nearest gates, letting in their comrades from outside.
Old Uliaris, with his little troop, hurried from the castle; he hoped to drive the intruders out; in vain; a spear was hurled which felled him to the ground.
And round his corpse fell, fighting bravely, the two hundred faithful Goths who yet surrounded him.
Then, when they saw the imperial banner waving on the walls, the citizens of Neapolis arose. Led by old friends to the Romans, such as Stephanus and Antiochus the Syrian--Castor, a zealous friend of the Goths, had lost his life in attempting to hold them back--they disarmed the single Goths in the streets, and sent an embassy with thanks, congratulations, and petitions for mercy on the city to Belisarius, who, surrounded by his brilliant staff, now rode into the Porta Capuana.
But he bent his majestic brow gloomily, and, without checking his charger, answered:
"Neapolis has checked my progress for fifteen days, else I had already been before Rome, even before Ravenna. How much do you think this delay has robbed the Emperor of his right, and me of fame? For fifteen days your cowardice and ill-will has caused you to be governed by a handful of barbarians. The punishment for these fifteen days shall be only fifteen hours of--pillage. Without murder; the inhabitants are the Emperor's prisoners of war; without fire, for the city is a fortress of Byzantium. Where is the leader of the Goths? Dead?"
"Yes," answered Johannes, "here is his sword. Earl Ularis fell."
"I do not mean him!" said Belisarius; "I mean the young one; Totila. What has become of him? I must have him."
"Sir," said one of the Neapolitans, a rich merchant named Asklepiodot, "if you will exempt my house and magazines from pillage, I will tell you where he is."
But Belisarius made a sign, and two Moorish lancers took hold of the trembling man.
"Rebel, do you make conditions to me? Speak! or torture shall unloose your tongue!"
"Have pity! mercy!" cried the man. "During the armistice, Totila went out with a few horsemen to fetch reinforcements from the Castle of Aurelian. They may return at any moment."
"Johannes," cried Belisarius, "that man is worth all Neapolis. We must take him! Have you, as I ordered, blocked the way to Rome, and manned the gate?"
"In that direction no one can have left the city," said Johannes.
"Away! At once! We must entice him in! Let the Gothic banner fly from the Castle of Tiberius and from the Porta Capuana. Send armed Neapolitans upon the walls; he who warns Totila, even were it only with a wink of his eye, dies! Arm my bodyguard with Gothic weapons. I will be there myself. Place three hundred men in the neighbourhood of the gate. Let Totila quietly in. As soon as he has passed the portcullis, let it fall. I will have him alive. He shall not be wanting at the triumph in Byzantium!"
"Give me the office, general," begged Johannes; "I owe him a return for an ill stroke."
And he rushed back to the Porta Capuana, ordered the corpses and all trace of combat to be removed, and took his further measures.
As the men were busy obeying his orders, a veiled figure forced its way among them.
"For the good God's sake," begged a sweet voice, "let me get to him! I will only see his body--oh, take care! Oh, my father! my father!"
It was Miriam, who had hastened home terrified by the noise made by the plundering Huns. With the strength of despair she pushed back the spears and took Isaac's grey head into her arms.
"Get away, girl!" said the soldier next to her, a very tall Bajuvar, a mercenary of Byzantium; his name was Garizo. "Do not hinder us! we must make the way clear. Into the grave with the Jew!"
"No, no!" cried Miriam, and pushed the man back.
"Woman!" he cried angrily, and lifted his axe.
But, spreading her arms protectingly over her father's body, and with sparkling eyes, the girl fearlessly stood her ground. The soldier suddenly fell back as if paralysed.
"Thou hast a bold heart, girl!" he cried, dropping his axe, "and thou art as beautiful as the wood-nymph of the Liusacha! What can I do for thee? Thou art wonderful to look at."
"If the God of my fathers has touched thy heart," said Miriam in her pathetic voice, "help me to hide the body in the garden there--he has long since dug his own grave near Sarah, my mother--with his face to the east."
"It shall be done," said the Bajuvar, and obeyed her.
She carried the head, he the knees of the corpse. A few steps took them into the little garden; there, under a weeping-willow, lay a stone; the man pushed it away, and they laid the corpse in the grave, with its face to the east.
Miriam looked into the grave without a word, without a tear; she felt so forsaken, so lonely. The Bajuvar softly pushed the stone back into its place, filled with compassion.
"Come!" he said.
"Whither?" asked Miriam in a low voice.
"Well, whither wilt thou go?"
"I do not know. I thank thee," she said, and took an amulet from her neck and gave it to him. It was made of gold, a coin from the Jordan, from the Temple.
"No!" said the man, and shook his head.
He took her hand, and pressed it to his eyes.
"So," he said, "that will do me good all my life long. Now I must go; we must catch the Earl Totila. Farewell."
That name went to Miriam's heart. She cast one more look at the quiet grave, and then slipped quickly out of the garden.
She wished to go through the gate on to the highroad, but the portcullis was down, and at the gate stood men with Gothic helmets and shields. She looked about her in surprise.
"Is all ready, Chanaranzes?" said a voice.
"All; he is as good as taken!"
"Hark! before the walls! horses trampling! It is they! Back, woman!"
Outside, a few horsemen were seen trotting towards the gate.
"Open, open the gate!" cried Totila from a distance.
Thorismuth rode up to him.
"I don't know how it is, I have no confidence," he cried. "The road was so quiet, and so was the enemy's camp out there; scarcely a few watch-fires were burning."
From the ramparts came a flourish of the Gothic horn.
"How horribly the fellow blows!" cried Thorismuth angrily.
"It must be an Italian," said Totila.
"Give the watch-word," was called from the walls in Latin.
"Neapolis!" cried Totila. "Dost thou hear? Uliaris has been obliged to arm the citizens. Open the gate! I bring good news," he called to the men above. "Four hundred Goths follow at my heels, and Italy has a new king."
"Which is he!" asked some one inside, in a low voice.
"He on the white horse, the first one."
The gate was flung wide open; Gothic helmets filled the entrance; torches shone; voices whispered.
"Up with the portcullis!" cried Totila, riding up. Thorismuth looked anxiously before him, shading his eyes with his hand.
"They assembled yesterday at Regeta," Totila began again. "Theodahad is deposed, and Earl Witichis----"
The portcullis was slowly raised, and Totila was just about to give his horse the spur, when a woman rushed from the row of soldiers, and cast herself before the animal's hoofs.
"Fly!" she cried. "The enemy is before you! the city is taken!"
But she could not finish; a lance penetrated her heart.
"Miriam!" cried Totila, horrified, and checked his horse.
But Thorismuth, who was close behind, and who had long been suspicious, now reached his arm past the grating, and separated the rope which held the portcullis up with his sword, so that the portcullis fell with a loud crash just in front of Totila.
A hail of spears and arrows flew through the portcullis.
"Up with the portcullis!" cried Johannes from within. "Out! Upon them!"
But Totila did not move.
"Miriam! Miriam!" he cried in great grief.
Once more she opened her eyes, with a dying look of love and pain. That look told everything; it pierced Totila's heart.
"For thee!" she sighed, and fell back.
He forgot Neapolis, danger, and death.
"Miriam!" he cried again, and stretched out both his hands.
An arrow touched his horse's flank; the noble animal reared. The portcullis began to rise. Thorismuth caught Totila's bridle, wrenched his horse round, and gave it such a stroke with the flat of his sword, that it galloped away like the wind.
"Up and away, sir!" he cried, rushing after Totila. "They must be speedy who would overtake us!"
And the riders flew back on the Via Capuana, the way that they had come. Not far behind followed Johannes, ignorant of the way, and confused by the darkness of the night.
Totila's party presently met with the garrison of the Castle of Aurelian, which was marching towards Neapolis.
They all halted together upon a hill, whence they could see the city and the ramparts, partially illuminated by the Byzantine watch-fires on the walls.
Only then did Totila recover from his grief and consternation.
"Farewell, Miriam!" he sighed. "Farewell, Uliaris! Neapolis, I shall see thee again!"
And he gave orders to march forward to Rome.
But from this hour a shadow fell upon the soul of the young Goth. Miriam, with the holy right of suffering, had buried herself in his heart for ever.
When Johannes returned from his fruitless pursuit, and sprang from his horse, he cried in a furious voice: "Where is the girl who warned him? Throw her to the dogs!" And he hurried away to Belisarius, to report the mishap.
But no one could tell how the lovely corpse had disappeared. The horses had trampled it beyond recognition, thought the crowd.
Butoneknew better--Garizo, the Bajuvar.
He had borne her away from the tumult in his strong arms like a sleeping child; had carried her into the little garden, had lifted the stone from the scarcely-covered grave, and had laid the daughter carefully by her father's side.
Then he stood still and contemplated her features. In the distance sounded the tumult from the plundered town, in which the Huns of Belisarius, in spite of his command, burned and murdered, and did not even spare the churches, until the general himself, rushing amongst them with his drawn sword, put a stop to the cruel work of destruction.
Such a noble expression lay upon Miriam's dead face, that Garizo did not dare to kiss it, as he so much longed to do. So he placed her with her face to the east, gathered a rose which was blooming near the grave, and laid it upon her breast.
He wished to take part in the pillage, but he could not leave the place; he turned back again. And all the night long, leaning on his sword, he kept watch over the grave of the beauteous girl.
He looked up at the stars and repeated an ancient blessing on the dead, which his mother had taught him in his home on the Liusacha. But that did not satisfy him; he added a Christian paternoster.
And when the sun rose, he carefully placed the stone over the grave and went away.
Thus Miriam had disappeared without leaving a trace behind.
But in Neapolis the people, who in secret were faithful to Totila, told how his guardian angel had descended to save him, and had then reascended to heaven.