A Struggle For Rome Volume Iii Part 55

"You cannot well doubt my courage," he said, "according to your own words. But there are more important things for me to do than to stamp out the last glimmering sparks of the Gothic war. The orphaned city longs for her Prefect. The Capitol beckons me."

"The Capitol!" repeated Johannes. "I think, Cethegus, that a heroic death is also worth something."

"Yes, when the aim of one's life is reached."

"But no one knows, O Cethegus, how near he has approached his aim. But, another thing: it seems to me as if something is in preparation among the barbarians on their cursed mountain. From the hill near my quarters we can peep a little, through a gap, over the peaks of the lava. I should like you to turn your practised eye in that direction. At least, they shall not surprise us by a sally. Follow me thither. But do not speak of our league to Na.r.s.es; he does not approve of such things. I purposely chose the hour of his bath for my visit to you."

"I will come," said Cethegus.

He finished putting on his armour, and, after vainly inquiring for Syphax of the Isaurian sentry, went with Johannes through his own and the central camp of Na.r.s.es, and finally turned into that on the right wing--the camp of Johannes.

Upon the crown of the little hill mentioned by Johannes stood a great many officers, who were eagerly looking through a small gap in the lava into the portion of the Gothic encampment visible to them.

When Cethegus had looked for some time, he cried:

"There is no doubt about it! They are evacuating this easternmost part of their position; they are pushing the wagons, which were drawn together, apart, and dragging them farther to the right, to the west.

That must mean concentration; perhaps a sally."

"What do you think, Johannes?" quietly asked a young captain, who had evidently only lately arrived from Byzantium, and who was a stranger to Cethegus, "what do you think? Could not the new catapults reach the barbarians from the point of that rock? I mean the last inventions of Martinus--such as my brother took to Rome."

"_To Rome?_" repeated Cethegus, and cast a sharp look at the questioner and at Johannes.

He felt himself suddenly turn hot and cold--a fright came over him, more terrible still than he had experienced when he had heard of the landing of Belisarius, of Totila's election, of Totila's march to Rome at _Pons Padi_, of Totila's entrance into the Tiber; or of the arrival of Na.r.s.es in Italy. It seemed to him as if an iron hand were clutching his heart and brain. He saw that Johannes imposed silence on the young questioner with a furious frown.

"_To Rome?_" again repeated Cethegus in a low voice, and fixing his eyes, now upon the stranger, now upon Johannes.

"Well, yes, of course, to Rome!" at last answered Johannes. "Zenon, this man is Cethegus, the Prefect of Rome."

The young Byzantine bowed with the expression of one who sees for the first time some far-famed monster.

"Cethegus, Zenon here, a captain who till now has been fighting on the Euphrates, arrived only yesterday evening with some Persian bowmen from Byzantium."

"And his brother," asked Cethegus, "has gone to _Rome_?"

"My brother Megas," quietly answered the Byzantine--who had now collected himself--"had the order to offer to the Prefect of Rome"--and here he again bowed--"the newly-invented double-catapults for the walls of Rome. He embarked long before me; so I thought that he had already arrived, and was gone to you in Rome. But his freight is very heavy. I am rejoiced to become personally acquainted with the most powerful man of the West, the glorious defender of the Tomb of Hadrian."

But Cethegus cast another sharp look at Johannes, and, abruptly bowing to all present, turned to go.

When he had gone a few paces he suddenly looked back, and caught sight of Johannes, with both his fists raised in anger, scolding at the talkative young archon. A cold shudder ran through the Prefect. He intended to reach his tent by the shortest cut, and, without waiting for Syphax and his discoveries, to mount his horse and hasten to Rome without taking leave.

The shortest way to get to his tent was to leave the camp of Johannes, and walk along the straight line of the semicircle formed by the whole encampment. In front of him a few Persian bowmen were riding out of the camp commanded by Johannes. And some peasants who had sold wine to the soldiers were also permitted to pa.s.s unhindered by the sentinels. These sentries were all Longobardians, to whom, as everywhere, the exits of this camp were entrusted by Na.r.s.es.

As Cethegus was about to follow his countrymen, these sentries stopped him with their spears. He caught at the shafts and angrily pushed them aside. At this one of the Longobardians blew his horn; the others pressed more closely round Cethegus.

"By order of Na.r.s.es!" said Autharis, the captain.

"And those?" asked Cethegus, pointing to the peasants and the Persians.

"Those are not you," said the Longobardian.

At the sound of the horn a troop of guards had hurried up. They bent their bows. Cethegus silently turned his back on them and returned to his tent by the way that he had come.

Perhaps it was only his suddenly-aroused mistrust which made him imagine that all the Byzantines and Longobardians whom he pa.s.sed regarded him with half-jeering, half-compa.s.sionate looks. When he reached his tent he asked the Isaurian sentry:

"Is Syphax back?"

"Yes, sir, long since. He is impatiently waiting for you in the tent.

He is wounded."

Cethegus quickly pushed aside the curtains and entered. Syphax, deadly pale beneath his bronzed skin, rushed to meet him, embraced his knees, and whispered in pa.s.sionate and desperate excitement:

"O my master! my lion! You are ensnared--lost--nothing can save you!"

"Compose yourself, slave!" said Cethegus. "You bleed?"

"It is nothing! They would not permit me to return to your camp--they began to struggle with me as if in joke, but their dagger-stabs were bitter earnest."

"Who? Whose dagger-stabs?"

"The Longobardians, master, who have placed double guards at all the entrances of your camp."

"Na.r.s.es shall give me a reason for this," said Cethegus angrily.

"The reason--that is, the pretext--he sent Kabades to inform you of it--is a menaced sally by the Goths. But oh! my lion, my eagle, my palm-tree, my wellspring--you are lost!"

And again the Numidian threw himself at his master's feet, covering them with tears and kisses.

"Tell me coherently," said Cethegus, "what you have heard."

And he leaned against the central support of his tent, crossing his arms behind his back, and raising his head. He did not seem to regard the troubled face of Syphax, but to gaze at vacancy.

"O sir--I shall not be able to tell it very clearly--but I succeeded in reaching my hiding-place among the sea-weed. It was scarcely necessary to dive--the weeds hid me sufficiently. The bathing-house is made of thin wood and has been newly covered with linen since the last storm.

Na.r.s.es came in his little boat with Alboin, Basiliskos, and three other men, disguised as Longobardians--but I recognised Scaevola, Albinus----"

"They are not dangerous," interrupted Cethegus.

"And--Anicius!"

"Are you not mistaken?" asked Cethegus sharply.

"Sir, I knew his eyes and his voice! From their conversation--I did not understand every word--but the sense was clear----"

"Would that you could repeat their very words!"

"They spoke Greek, sir, and I do not understand it as well as your language--and the waves made a noise, and the wind was unfavourable."

"Well, what did they say?"