Just then Syphax appeared upon the wall.
His master had strictly forbidden him to take part in the fight. He could not spare him.
"Woe--woe!" cried Syphax, so loudly, that it struck Cethegus--who knew the Moor's usual self-control--strangely.
"What has happened?"
"A great misfortune! Constantinus is severely wounded. He led a sortie from the Salarian Gate, and at once stumbled upon the Gothic ranks. A stone from a sling hit him on the brow. With difficulty his people saved him, and bore him back within the walls. There I received the fainting man--he named you, the Prefect, as his successor. Here is his general's staff."
"That is not possible!" shouted Bessas, who had followed at Syphax's heels. He had come in person to demand reinforcements from the Prefect, and arrived just in time to hear this news. "That is not possible," he repeated, "or Constantinus was raving when he said it."
"If he had appointed you he might have been so," said Cethegus quietly, taking the staff, and thanking the cunning slave with a rapid motion of his hand.
With a furious look Bessas left the ramparts and hurried away.
"Follow him, and watch him carefully, Syphax," whispered the Prefect.
An Isaurian mercenary hastily approached.
"Reinforcements, Prefect, for the Porta Portuensis! Duke Guntharis has stormed the wall!"
He was followed by Cabao, the leader of the Moorish mounted archers, who cried:
"Constantinus is dead! You must represent him."
"I represent Belisarius," said Cethegus proudly. "Take five hundred Armenians from the Appian Gate, and send them to the Porta Portuensis."
"Help--help for the Appian Gate! All the men on the ramparts are shot dead!" cried a Persian horseman, galloping up. "The farthest outwork is nearly lost; it may yet be saved, but with difficulty. It would be impossible to retake it!"
Cethegus called his young jurisconsult, Salvius Julianus, now his war-tribune.
"Up, my jurist! 'Beati possidentes!' Take a hundred legionaries and keep the outwork at all costs until further assistance arrive." And again he looked over the breastwork.
Under his feet the fight raged; the battering-rams thundered. But he was more troubled by the mysterious inaction which the King preserved in the background than by the turmoil close at hand.
"Of what can he be thinking?"
Just then a fearful crash and a loud shout of joy from the barbarians sounded from below. Cethegus had no need to ask what it was; in a moment he had reached the gate.
"The gate is broken!" cried his people.
"I know it.Wenow must be the bolts of Rome!"
And pressing his shield more firmly to his side, he went up to the right wing of the gate, in which yawned a broad fissure. And again the battering-ram struck the shattered planks near the crevice.
"Another such stroke and the gate will fall!" said Gregorius, the Byzantine.
"Quite right; therefore we must not let it be repeated. Here--to me--Gregorius and Lucius! Form, milites! Spears lowered! Torches and firebrands! Make ready to sally. When I raise my sword, open the gate, and cast ram and penthouse and all into the trench."
"You are very daring, my general!" cried Lucius Licinius, taking his stand close to Cethegus with delight.
"Yes, now there is cause to be daring, my friend."
The column was formed; the Prefect was just about to give the sign, when, from behind, there arose a noise still greater than that made by the storming Goths; screams of pain and the tramp of horses. Bessas came up in great agitation; he caught the Prefect's arm--his voice failed him.
"Why do you hinder me at this moment?" asked. Cethegus, pushing him aside.
"Belisarius's troops," at last panted the Thracian, "stand sorely wounded outside the Tiburtinian Gate they beg for admittance--furious Goths are at their heels--Belisarius has fallen into an ambush--he is dead."
"Belisarius is taken!" cried a gate-keeper, who hurried up breathless.
"The Goths--the Goths are upon us! at the Nomentanian and Tiburtinian Gates!" was shouted from the streets.
"Belisarius's flag is taken! Procopius is defending the corpse of Belisarius!"
"Give orders for the Tiburtinian Gate to be opened," persisted Bessas. "Your Isaurians are there. Who sent them?"
"I," answered Cethegus reflectively.
"They will not open without your orders. Save at least the corpse of our noble commander!"
Cethegus lingered--he held his hand half raised--he hesitated.
"I would gladly save hiscorpse!" he thought.
Just then Syphax rushed up to him, and whispered:
"No, he still lives! I saw him from the ramparts. He moves; but he will be taken prisoner directly. The Gothic horsemen are close upon him. Totila and Teja will be up with him immediately!"
"Give the order; let the Tiburtinian Gate be opened," insisted Bessas.
But the Prefect's eyes flashed; over his countenance spread an expression of proud and bold decision, and illumined it with demoniac beauty. He struck his sword against the shattered wing of the gate before him and cried:
"Sally! First Rome; then Belisarius! Rome and triumph!"
The gate flew open. The storming Goths, already sure of victory, had expected anything rather than such a bold attack from the Byzantines, whom they believed to be completely cowed. They were crowded about the gate without order. They were completely taken by surprise, and were soon pushed into the yawning ditch behind them by the sudden and irresistible attack.
Old Hildebrand would not leave his battering-ram. Raising himself to his full height, he shattered Gregorius's tall helmet with his stone-axe. But almost at the same moment Lucius Licinius pushed him into the trench with the spike of his shield. Cethegus cut the ropes which held the battering-ram, and it fell crashing down over the old man.
"Now fire all the wooden machines!" cried Cethegus.
Quickly the flames caught the beams.
The victorious Romans immediately retired within the walls.
But then Syphax, meeting the Prefect, cried:
"Mutiny, master! Mutiny and rebellion! The Byzantines will no longer obey you! Bessas calls upon them to open the Tiburtinian Gate by force. His body-guard threaten to attack Marcus Licinius, and the Huns to slaughter your legionaries and Isaurians!"
"They shall repent it!" cried Cethegus furiously. "Woe to Bessas! I will remember this! Up, Lucius Licinius! take half the remaining Isaurians. No take them all--all! You know where they stand. Attack the body-guard of the Thracian from behind, and if they will not yield, strike them down without mercy. Help your brother! I will follow immediately."
Lucius Licinius lingered.
"And the Tiburtinian Gate?"
"Must remain closed."
"And Belisarius?"
"Must remain outside."
"Teja and Totila have almost reached him!"
"So much the less dare we open! First Rome; then the rest! Obey, tribune!"
Cethegus remained behind to order the reparation of the damaged gate. It took a considerable time.
"How was it, Syphax!" he asked his slave. "Was he really alive?"
"He still lives."
"How stupid these Goths are!"
A messenger arrived from Lucius.
"Your tribune sends word that Bessas will not yield. The blood of your legionaries has already been shed at the Tiburtinian Gate. And Asgares and the Isaurians hesitate to strike; they doubt that you are in earnest."
"I will show them that I am in earnest!" cried Cethegus, as he mounted his horse and galloped away like the wind.
He had to go a long way. Over the bridge of the Janiculum, past the Capitol, across the Forum Romanum, through the Via Sacra and the Arch of Titus, leaving the Baths of Titus to the right; out over the Esquiline Hill, and, lastly, through the Esquiline Gate to the outer Tiburtinian Gate--a distance which extended from the extreme western to the extreme eastern limit of the immense city.
When he reached the gate, he found the bodyguard of Bessas and Belisarius showing a double front.
One line prepared to overpower the legionaries and Isaurians under Marcus Licinius at the gate, and to open the latter by force; while the second line stood opposed to the rest of the Isaurians, to whom Lucius gave the order to advance in vain.
"Mercenaries!" cried Cethegus, checking his foaming horse close before them; "to whom have you sworn obedience--to me or to Belisarius?"
"To you, general," said Asgares, the leader, stepping forward; "but I thought----"
The sword of the Prefect flashed; and, struck to the heart, the man fell.
"Your duty is to obey, stupid rascal, and not to think!"
The Isaurians were horrified.
But Cethegus quickly gave the word of command.
"Lower your spears! Follow me! Charge!"
And the Isaurians now obeyed him. Another moment, and a fight would have commenced in the city itself.
But just then, from the west, in the direction of the Aurelian Gate, was heard a terrible, all-overpowering cry.
"Woe! woe! all is lost! The Goths are upon us! The city is taken!"
Cethegus turned pale, and looked behind him.
Kallistratos galloped up, blood flowing from his face and neck.
"Cethegus," he cried, "all is over! The barbarians are in Rome! The wall is forced!"
"Where?" asked the Prefect, in a hollow voice.
"At the Mausoleum!"
"Oh, my general!" cried Lucius, "I warned you!"
"That is Witichis!" said Cethegus, closing his eyes as if in pain.
"How do you know it?" asked Kallistratos, astonished.
"Enough! I do know it."
It was a fearful moment for the Prefect. He was obliged to confess to himself that, recklessly following his plan for the ruin of Belisarius, he had for a short period neglected Rome.
He ground his teeth.
"Cethegus has exposed the Mausoleum! Cethegus has ruined Rome!" cried Bessas, at the head of the body-guard.
"And Cethegus will save Rome!" cried the Prefect, raising himself in his saddle. "Follow me, Isaurians and legionaries!"
"And Belisarius?" whispered Syphax.
"He may enter. First Rome; then the rest! Follow me!"
And Cethegus galloped off the same way that he had come.
Only a few mounted men could keep up with him; his foot-soldiers and Isaurians followed at a run.
At the same time a pause ensued before the Tiburtinian Gate.
A messenger had recalled the Gothic horsemen from the useless fight.
They were to send all the men they could dispose of as fast as possible round the city to the Aurelian Gate, through which their comrades had just entered the city; there the greatest available force was necessary.
The horsemen, turning to the left, galloped towards the gate which had now become the centre of the struggle; but their own foot-soldiers, storming the five gates which lay between--the Porta Clausa, the Nomentanian, Salarian, Pincian, and Flaminian Gates--blocked their progress so long, that they arrived too late for the result of the attack upon the Mausoleum.
We recollect the position of this favourite resort of the Prefect. Opposite the Vatican Hill, at about a stone's throw from the Aurelian Gate, with which it was connected by side walls, and protected everywhere, except on the south, where ran the river, by new fortifications, towered the "Moles Hadriani," an immense round tower of the firmest masonry.
A sort of court surrounded the principal building. On the south, before the first and outer wall of defence, flowed the Tiber. The ramparts of this outer wall, and the court and battlements of the inner wall, were usually occupied by the Isaurians, whom, in an evil hour, the Prefect had withdrawn in order to carry out his plot against Belisarius.
On the parapet of the inner wall stood the numerous statues of marble and bronze, which had been raised to the number of three hundred by the gift of Kallistratos.
The King of the Goths had chosen for himself a position far back in the middle of the wide semicircle which his army had drawn around the city to the west. He had stationed himself upon the "field of Nero," on the right bank of the Tiber, between the Pancratian (old Aurelian) and the (new) Aurelian Gates, a post usually occupied by Earl Markja, of Mediolanum.
Witichis founded his plan upon the fact that the general storming of all the gates would necessarily disperse the forces of the besieged; and as soon as some part of the ramparts should be more than usually exposed by the withdrawal of its defenders, he intended to make use of the circumstance, and attack at that point.
With this view, he had quietly remained immovable far behind the storming columns.
He had given orders to his leaders to call him at once should a gap in the line of defence be observed.
He had waited long--very long.
He had had to bear many a word of impatience from his troops, who were forced to remain idle while their comrades were advancing on all sides. Long, long they waited for a messenger to call them into action.
At last the King himself was the first to notice that the well-known flags and the thickly-crowded spears of the Isaurians had disappeared from the outer wall of the Mausoleum.
He observed the place attentively. The Isaurians could not have been relieved, for the gaps were not filled up.
Then he sprang from his saddle, gave his horse a stroke with the flat of his hand, and cried, "Home, Boreas!"
The clever animal galloped straight back to the camp.
"Now forward, my Goths! forward, Earl Markja!" cried the King. "Over the river there! Leave the wall-breakers behind: take only shields and storming-ladders, and the axes. Forward!"
And at a run he reached the steep bank at the southern bend of the river, and descended the hill.
"No bridge. King, and no ford!" asked a Goth behind him.
"No, friend Iffamer; we must swim!"
And the King sprang into the dirty yellow water, which splashed, hissing, high above his helmet.
In a few moments he had reached the opposite bank, the foremost of his people with him.
Soon they stood close before the lofty outer wall of the Mausoleum, and the warriors looked up inquiringly and anxiously.
"Bring the ladders!" cried Witichis. "Do you not see? There are no defenders! Are you afraid of mere stones?"
The ladders were quickly raised, and the outer wall scaled. The few soldiers who had remained to defend this wall were overcome, the ladders drawn up and let down on the inner side.
The King was the first in the court.
There, it is true, the progress of the Goths was for a time arrested.
For Quintus Piso and Kallistratos stood on the ramparts of the inner wall, with a hundred legionaries and a few Isaurians. They had hastened thither from the Pancratian Gate. They hurled a thick hail of spears and arrows at the Goths as they descended singly into the court. Their catapults were also not without effect.
"Send for assistance to Cethegus!" cried Piso, on the wall; and Kallistratos immediately rushed away.
Below in the court the Goths fell right and left at the side of Witichis.
"What shall we do?" asked Markja.
"Wait until they have exhausted their projectiles. It cannot last much longer. They shoot and hurl too hastily in their fright. Do you see? Already more stones are flying than arrows, and there are no more spears."
"But their balistas?"
"They will presently be able to hurt us no longer. Prepare to storm! See, the hail is much thinner; now be ready with the ladders and axes. Follow me quickly!"
And the Goths ran at a quick step across the court. Very few fell. The greater part reached the second and inner wall in safety, and a hundred ladders were raised.
And now all Procopius's balistas and machines were useless; for being directed for a wide range, they could not be placed in a perpendicular direction without great trouble and loss of time.
Piso observed this, and turned pale.
"Spears! spears! or all is lost!"
"They are all cast away," panted fat Balbus, who stood near him, with a look of despair.
"Then all is lost!" sighed Piso, letting fall his wearied arms.
"Come, Massurius, let us save ourselves," cried Balbus.
"No, let us stand and die," cried Piso.
Over the edge of the wall appeared the first Gothic helmet.
All at once a cry was heard upon the steps leading on to the wall citywards.
"Cethegus! Cethegus the Prefect!"
And he it was. He sprang upon the ramparts, and attacking the Goth, who had just laid his hand upon the breastwork before swinging himself over, he cut off hand and arm. The man screamed and fell.
"Oh, Cethegus!" cried Piso; "you come in the very nick of time!"
"I hope so," said Cethegus, and overturned the ladder which was raised against the wall just in front of him.
Witichis had mounted it--he sprang down with agility.
"But I must have projectiles; spears, lances! else we can do nothing!" cried Cethegus.
"There is nothing left," answered Balbus; "we hoped that you would come with your Isaurians."
"They are still far, far behind me!" cried Kallistratos, who was the first to arrive after Cethegus.
And the number of ladders and the rising helmets increased. Ruin was imminent. Cethegus looked wildly round.
"Projectiles," he cried, stamping his foot; "we must have them!"
At that moment his eye fell upon a gigantic marble statue of Jupiter, which stood upon the ramparts to his left hand. A thought flashed across him. He sprang up, and with his axe struck off the right arm of the statue, together with the thunderbolt it held.
"Jupiter!" he cried, "lend me thy lightnings! Why dost thou hold them so idly? Up, my men! shatter the statues and hurl them at the enemy!"
Before he could finish his sentence, his example was followed.
The hard-pressed defenders fell upon the gods and heroes with hammers and axes, and in a moment the lovely forms were shattered.
It was a frightful sight. There lay a grand Hadrian, an equestrian statue, man and horse split in two; there a laughing Aphrodite fell upon its knees; there the beautiful head of an Antinous fell from the trunk, and hurled by two hands, fell crashing upon a Gothic shield of buffalo-hide. And far and wide upon the ramparts fell fragments and pieces of marble and bronze, of iron and gold.
Down from the ramparts, thundering and crashing, fell the mighty weight of metal and stone, and shattered the helms and shields, the armour and limbs of the attacking Goths, and the ladders which bore them.
Cethegus looked with horror at the work of destruction which his words had called into action.
But it had saved them.
Twelve, fifteen, twenty ladders stood empty, although a moment before they had swarmed with men like ants; just as many lay broken at the foot of the wall.
Surprised by this unexpected hail of bronze and marble, the Goths fell back for a space.
But presently Markja's horn called them to the attack. And again the tons of marble thundered through the air.
"Unhappy man, what have you done?" cried Kallistratos, full of grief, and staring at the ruin.
"What was necessary!" cried Cethegus, and hurled the trunk of the Jupiter-statue over the wall. "Did you see it strike? two barbarians at one blow." And he looked down with great content.
At that moment he heard the Corinthian cry:
"No, no; not this one. Not the Apollo!"
Cethegus turned and saw a gigantic Isaurian raising his axe over the head of the statue.
"Fool, shall the Goths come up?" asked the mercenary, and raised his arm again.
"Not my Apollo!" repeated the Greek, and embraced the statue with both arms, protecting it with his body.
Earl Markja saw this movement from his stand upon the nearest ladder, and believing that Kallistratos was about to hurl the statue at him, he cast his spear and hit the Greek in the breast.
"Ah--Cethegus!" gasped Kallistratos--and fell dead.
The Prefect saw him fall, and contracted his brows.
"Save the corpse, and spare his two gods!" he said briefly, and overthrew the ladder upon which Markja was standing; more he could neither say nor do, for already a new and more imminent danger attracted his attention.
Witichis, half thrown, half springing from his ladder, had remained standing close under the wall, amidst a hail of stone and metal, seeking for new means of attack.
For, since the first trial with the storming-ladders had been rendered futile by the unexpected and novel projectiles, he had scarcely any hope left of winning the wall.
While he was thus looking and waiting, the heavy marble pedestal of a "Mars Gradivus" fell close to his feet, rebounded and struck one of the slabs of the wall. And this slab, which seemed to be made of the hardest stone, broke into little pieces of lime and mortar.
In its place was revealed a small wooden door, which, loosely covered and concealed by the mortar, was used by the masons and workpeople as a means of exit and entrance when obliged to repair the immense edifice.
Witichis had scarcely caught sight of this wooden door, than he cried out exultingly:
"Here, Goths, here! Bring axes!" and he himself dealt a blow at the thin boards, which seemed anything but strong.
The new and singular sound struck the ear of the Prefect; he paused in his bloody work and listened.
"That is iron against wood, by Cæsar!" he said to himself, and sprang down the narrow stairway, which led on the inner side of the wall into the faintly illuminated interior of the Mausoleum.
There he heard a louder stroke than all which had preceded it; a dull crash; a sharp sound of splintered wood; and then an exultant cry from the Goths.
As he reached the last step of the stair, the door fell crashing inwards, and King Witichis was visible upon the threshold.
"Rome is mine!" cried Witichis, letting his axe fall and drawing his sword.
"You lie, Witichis! for the first time in your life!" cried Cethegus furiously, and, springing forward, he pressed the strong spike of his shield so firmly against the breastplate of the Goth, that the latter, surprised, fell back a step.
The Prefect took advantage of the movement and placed himself upon the threshold, completely blocking up the doorway.
"Where are my Isaurians!" he shouted. But the next moment Witichis had recognised him. "So we meet at last in single combat for Rome!" cried the King.
And now it was his turn to attack. Cethegus, who wished to close the passage, covered his left side with his shield; his right hand, armed only with a short sword, was insufficient for the protection of his right side.
The thrust of Witichis's long sword, weakly parried by Cethegus, cut through the latter's coat of mail and entered deeply into his right breast.
Cethegus staggered; he bent forward; but he did not fall.
"Rome! Rome!" he cried faintly; and convulsively kept himself upright.
Witichis had fallen back to gain space for a final thrust.
But at that moment he was recognised by Piso on the wall, who hurled a splendid sleeping Faun which lay near him down upon the King. It struck the King's shoulder, and he fell.
Earl Markja, Iffamer and Aligern bore him out of the fight.
Cethegus saw him fall, and then himself sank down upon the threshold of the door; the protecting arms of a friend received him--but he could recognise nothing; his senses failed him.
He was presently recalled to consciousness by a well-known sound, which rejoiced his soul; it was the tones of the tubas of his legionaries and the battle-cry of his Isaurians, who had at last arrived, and, led by the Licinii, fell upon the Goths, who were disheartened by the fall of their King.
The Isaurians, after a bloody fight, had issued through a breach in the outer wall (which had been broken outwards by the Goths who were inside).
The Prefect saw the last of the barbarians fly; then his eyes closed once more.
"Cethegus!" cried the friend who held him in his arms, "Belisarius is dying; and you, you too are lost!"
Cethegus recognised the voice of Procopius.
"I do not know," he said with a last effort, "but Rome--Rome is saved!"
And his senses completely forsook him.
After the terrible exertion of strength in the general attack and its repulse, which had begun with the dawn of day, and had only ended at its close, a long pause of exhaustion ensued on the part of both Goths and Romans. The three commanders, Belisarius, Cethegus, and Witichis, lay for weeks recovering from their wounds.
But the actual armistice was more the effect of the deep discouragement and oppression which had come over the Gothic army when, after striving for victory to the uttermost, it had been wrested from them at the moment of seeming success.
All day they had done their best; their heroes had outvied each other in deeds of valour; and yet both their plans, that against Belisarius and that against the city, were wrecked in the consummation.
And although King Witichis, with his constant mind, did not share in the depression of his troops, he all the more clearly discerned that, after that bloody day, he would be obliged to change the whole plan of the siege.
The loss of the Goths was enormous; Procopius valued it at thirty thousand dead and more than as many wounded. On every side of the city they had exposed themselves, with utter contempt of death, to the projectiles of the besieged, and had fallen by thousands at the Pancratian Gate and before the Mausoleum of Hadrian.
And as, on the sixty-eight earlier attacks, the besiegers had always suffered much more than the besieged, sheltered as were these last behind walls and towers, the great army which, a few months before, Witichis had led against the Eternal City had been fearfully reduced.
Besides all this, hunger and pestilence had raged in their tents for a considerable period.
In consequence of this discouragement and the decimation of his troops, Witichis was obliged to renounce the idea of taking the city by storm, and his last hope--he did not conceal from himself its weakness--lay in the possibility that famine would force the enemy to capitulate.
The country round Rome was completely exhausted, and all seemed now to depend upon which party would be longest able to bear privation, or which could first procure provisions from a distance.
The Goths felt severely the loss of their fleet, which had been damaged on the coast of Dalmatia.
The first to recover from his wounds was the Prefect.
When carried away insensible from the door which he had closed with his body, he had lain for a day and a half in a state which was half sleep, half swoon.
When, on the evening of the second day, he again opened his eyes, his first glance fell upon the faithful Moor, who was crouched at the foot of the bed, and who had never ceased to watch him. The snake was twined round his arm.
"The wooden door!" was the first scarcely audible word of the Prefect. "The wooden door must be replaced by--marble blocks----"
"Thanks, thanks, O Snake-god!" cried the slave; "now he is saved and thou too! And I, my master, have saved you." And he threw himself upon the ground and kissed his master's bedstead; his feet he did not dare to kiss.
"You have saved me? how?"
"When I laid you, as pale as death, upon this bed, I fetched my Snake-god and showed you to him; and I said, 'Thou seest, O Snake-god, that my master's eyes are closed. Make them open. Until thou dost so, thou shalt not receive one drop of milk or crumb of bread. And if he never open his eyes again--then, on the day when they burn his corpse, Syphax will burn by his side, and thou, O great Snake-god, also. Thou hast the power to heal him, then do so--or burn!' Thus I spoke, and he has healed you."
"The city is safe--I feel it. Else I had never slept! Is Belisarius alive? Where is Procopius?"
"In the library with your tribunes. According to the physician's sentence, they expected to-day either your recovery, or your----"
"Death? This time your god has saved me, Syphax.--Let the tribunes enter."
Very soon Piso, the Licinii, Salvius Julianus, and some others stood before the Prefect; they would have hurried up to his couch with emotion, but he signed to them to compose themselves.
"Rome, through me, thanks you! You have fought like--like Romans! I can say nothing more, or more flattering."
He looked at the row of men before him reflectively, and then said:
"One is missing--ah, my Corinthian! His corpse is saved, for I recommended it, and the two statues, to Piso. Let a slab of black Corinthian marble be placed upon the spot where he fell; set the statue of Apollo above the urn, and inscribe on the latter, 'Here died, for Rome, Kallistratos of Corinth; he saved the god, and not the god him.' Now go. We shall soon meet again upon the walls.--Syphax, send Procopius to me. And bring a large cup of Falernian.--Friend," he cried to Procopius as the latter entered, "it seems to me as if, before I fell into this feverish sleep, I had heard some one whisper, 'Procopius has saved the great Belisarius!' A deed which will give you immortality. Posterity will thank you--therefore I need not. Sit by my side and tell me all. But wait--first arrange my cushions, so that I may see my Cæsar. The sight of that statue strengthens me more than medicine. Now speak."
Procopius looked sharply at the sick man.
"Cethegus," he then said, in a grave voice, "Belisarius knows everything."
"Everything?" said the Prefect with a smile. "That is much."
"Cease your mockery, and do not refuse admiration to nobleness of mind, you, who yourself are noble!"
"I? I know nothing of it."
"As soon as Belisarius recovered his senses," continued Procopius, "Bessas naturally informed him of all that had passed. He described to him minutely how you had ordered the Tiburtinian Gate to be kept closed, when Belisarius lay outside in his blood, with Teja raging at his heels. He told him that you commanded that his body-guard should be beaten down if they attempted to open the gate by force. He repeated your every word, also your cry: 'Rome first, then Belisarius!' And he demanded your head in the Council. I trembled; but Belisarius said: 'He did right! Here, Procopius, take him my sword, and the armour which I wore that day, as a sign that I thank him.' And in the report to the Emperor he dictated these words to me: 'Cethegus saved Rome, and Cethegus alone! Send him the patricianship of Byzantium.'"
"Many thanks! I did not save Rome for Byzantium!" observed Cethegus.
"You need not tell Belisarius that, you un-Attic Roman!"
"I am in no Attic humour, you life-preserver! What was your reward?"
"Peace. He knows nothing of it, and shall never learn it."
"Syphax, wine! I cannot bear so much magnanimity. It makes me weak. Well, what was the joke with the ambush?"
"Friend, it was no joke, but as terrible earnest as I have ever seen. Belisarius was saved by a hair's-breadth."
"Yes; it was one of those hairs which are always in the way of these Goths! They are clumsy fools, one and all!"
"You speak as if you were sorry that Belisarius was not killed!"
"It would have served him right. I had warned him thrice. He ought by this time to know what becomes an old general and what a young brawler."
"Listen," said Procopius, looking at him earnestly. "You have won the right to speak thus at the Mausoleum. Formerly, when you depreciated this man's heroism----"
"You thought I spoke in envy of the brave Belisarius? Hear it, ye immortal gods!"
"Yes; certainly your Gepidian laurels----"
"Leave those boyish deeds alone! Friend, if necessary, a man must despise death, but else he must cherish his life carefully. For only the living laugh and rule, not the dumb dead. This is my wisdom, call it cowardice if you will. Therefore--there was an ambush. Tell me briefly, how went the fight!"
"Briskly enough! After we had scoured the neighbourhood--it seemed free from enemies and safe for foraging--we gradually turned our horses' heads in the direction of the city, taking with us a few goats and half-starved sheep which we had found. Belisarius went foremost with young Severinus, Johannes, and myself. Suddenly, as we issued from the villagead aras Bacchi, there came galloping out of the trees on either side the Valerian Way a number of Gothic horsemen. I saw at once that they far outnumbered us, and advised that we should try to rush between them straight on the road to Rome. But Belisarius thought that though they were many, they were not too many, so he turned to the left to meet and break through one of their lines. But we were ill received. The Goths fought and rode better than our Mauretanian horsemen, and their leaders, Totila and Hildebad--I recognised the first by his flowing yellow locks, and the last by his enormous height--made straight at Belisarius. 'Where is Belisarius and his courage?' shouted tall Hildebad, audible through all the clash of arms. 'Here!' at once replied Belisarius, and before we could prevent him, he faced the giant. The latter lost no time, but struck the general's helmet so furiously with his heavy battle-axe, that the golden crest, with its plume of white horse-hair, fell to the earth, and the head of Belisarius was bowed to the saddle-bow. The giant immediately aimed a second and fatal blow, but young Severinus came up and received the stroke upon his round shield. The barbarian's axe pierced the shield, and entered deeply into the noble youth's neck. He fell----"
Procopius paused, lost in painful thought.
"Dead?" asked Cethegus quietly.
"An old freedman of his father, who accompanied him, bore him out of the fight, but I hear that he died before they could reach the village."
"A noble death!" said Cethegus. "Syphax, a cup of wine."
"Meanwhile," continued Procopius, "Belisarius had recovered himself, and now, thoroughly enraged, struck his spear full at Hildebad's breast-plate, hurling him from his horse. We shouted with joy, but young Totila----"
"Well?"
"Had scarcely seen his brother fall, than he broke furiously through the lances of the body-guard, and attacked Belisarius. Aigan, the standard-bearer, would have protected Belisarius, but the Goth's sword pierced his left arm. Totila caught the banner from his powerless hand, and threw it to the nearest Goth. Belisarius uttered a cry of rage and turned to meet his enemy; but young Totila is quick as lightning, and before Belisarius knew what he was about, two swift strokes fell on the latter's shoulders. He wavered in his saddle, and then sank slowly from his horse, which fell dead the next moment, pierced by a spear. 'Yield, Belisarius!' cried Totila. The general had just strength enough to shake his head, and then sank insensible. I had quickly dismounted, and now lifted him upon my own horse, and placed him under the care of Johannes, who rallied his body-guard about him, and carried him quickly out of the fight to the city."
"And you?"
"I fought on foot, and I succeeded, with the aid of our rear-guard, who now came up--we had been obliged to sacrifice our forage--in resisting Totila. But not for long. For now the second troop of Gothic horsemen had arrived. Like a storm of wind, up rushed the black Teja, broke through our right wing--which stood nearest to him--then through the front rank, which faced Totila, and dispersed our whole array. I counted the battle lost, caught a riderless horse, and galloped after the general. But Teja also had observed the direction of his flight, and galloped after us. He overtook the escort at the Fulvian Bridge. Johannes and I had placed more than half of the rest of the body-guard on the bridge, to defend the crossing, under Principius, the brave Pisidian, and Tarmuth, the gigantic Isaurian. There, as I heard, all the thirty men, and, lastly, their two faithful leaders, fell by Teja's hand alone. There fell the flower of Belisarius's body-guard; amongst them many of my best friends: Alamundarus, the Saracen; Artasines, the Persian; Zanter, the Arminian, and many more. But their death bought our safety. At the other side of the bridge we overtook the foot-soldiers we had left behind, who now checked the enemy's horse until, late enough, the Tiburtinian Gate was opened to the wounded general. Then, as soon as we had sent him upon a litter to Antonina, I hastened to the Mausoleum of Hadrian--where, I had heard, the Goths had entered the city--and found you in danger of death."
"And what has Belisarius now decided?"
"His wounds are not so dangerous as yours, and yet they heal more slowly. He has granted to the Goths the armistice which they desired, in order to bury their numerous dead."
Cethegus started up from his cushions.
"He should have refused it; he should have suffered no useless delay of the final result. I know these Gothic bulls; they have blunted their horns; they are tired and done for. Now is the time to strike the blow which I have long contemplated. Their giant bodies can ill bear the heat outside in the glowing plains; less can they support hunger; still less thirst--for the German must be drinking if he be not snoring or fighting. It is now only necessary to intimidate yet more their prudent King. Greet Belisarius from me, and my thanks for the sword is this advice: Send Johannes, with eight thousand men, through Picenum towards Ravenna; the Flaminian road is open, and will be but slightly defended, for Witichis has collected here the garrisons of all the forts, and we can now more easily win Ravenna than the barbarians can win Rome. And as soon as the King hears that Ravenna, his last refuge, is in danger, he will hurry thither to save it at any cost; he will take away his army from these impregnable walls, and will become the persecuted instead of the persecutor."
"Cethegus," said Procopius, springing up, "you are a great general!"
"Only by the way, Procopius! Now go, and take my homage to the great victor, Belisarius."