CHAPTER XI.
The sound continued.
It was real--no dream! Blow after blow fell thundering against the door of his house.
Cethegus caught up his helm and sword.
At that moment Syphax and Lucius rushed into the room.
"Up, general!"
"Up, Cethegus!"
"Two hours cannot yet have passed. Why have you awakened me?"
"The Goths! They have been beforehand with us! They storm the bulwarks!"
"Damn them! Where do they storm?"
Cethegus had already reached the door of the room.
"Where does the King attack?"
"At the bolts on the river. He has sent fire-ships up the stream. Floats with heavy towers on deck, full of resin, pitch, and sulphur. The first bolt of masts and all the boats between are in flames! Salvius Julianus is wounded and taken prisoner. There! you can see the reflection of the flames in the south-east!"
"The bolt of chains--does it hold?"
"It holds still. But if it break--"
"Then I, as once before, am the bolt of Rome! Forward!"
Syphax led up the snorting horses.
Cethegus swung himself into the saddle.
"Away! Where is your brother Marcus?"
"At the bulwark by the Forum."
As Cethegus and Lucius were galloping off, they were met by a mass of mercenaries, Isaurians and Abasgians, who fled from the river.
"Fly!" they cried. "Save the Prefect!"
"Where is Cethegus?"
"Here--to save you! Turn back. To the river!"
He galloped on. The reflection of the burning masts plainly showed the way. Arrived at the river bank, Cethegus dismounted. Syphax placed his horse out of harm's way in an empty storehouse.
"Torches!" cried Cethegus. "Into the boats! There lie a dozen ready. Bowmen, into the boats! Follow me! Lucius, go into the second boat. Row up to the chain. Place yourselves close to it. Whatever comes up the river--shoot! They cannot land below the bolt, the walls are too high and descend straight into the water. They must come up here to the chain!"
Already a few boats, filled with Goths, had ventured too near. Some caught fire at the burning masts; others were upset in the crush and confusion. One, which had approached within half an arrow's length of the chain, drove helplessly down the stream again: all the crew had been killed by the arrows of the Abasgians.
"Do you see! There goes a boat of corpses! Resist to the last man. Nothing is lost! Bring torches and firebrands! Kindle the wharf there! Fire against fire!"
"Look there, master!" cried Syphax, who never left the Prefect's side.
"Aye, now comes the struggle!"
It was a splendid sight.
The Goths had seen that the bolt of chains could never be forced by small boats, so they had hewn away so much of the burning bolt of masts that a space was left in the middle just broad enough to permit the passage of a ship of war.
But to try to pass up the river, exposed to the arrows of the Abasgians, between the flaming ends of the masts, and propelled only by their oars, might be more dangerous for the large vessel than for the "boat of corpses."
The Goths hesitated and stopped just before the burning beams.
But suddenly there arose a strong breeze from the south, rippling the surface of the water.
"Do you feel the wind? It is the breath of the God of Victory! Set the sails! Now follow me, my Goths!" cried a joyful voice.
The sails were set, and the wings of the royal galley, the "Wild Swan," spread wide to the breeze.
It was a magnificent spectacle as the great vessel, all its canvas spread, and urged by a hundred oarsmen, came majestically up the river, illuminated by the terrible light from the burning masts and boats.
With irresistible force the noble galley sailed up the stream.
On both sides of the upper deck, high above the heads of the oarsmen on the lower deck, kneeled close rows of Gothic warriors, their shields forming a brazen roof to protect them from the arrows of the foe.
Upon the bows of the ship an immense figure of a swan lifted high its snowy wings.
Between these wings, upon the back of the swan, stood King Totila, his sword in his right hand.
"Forward!" he cried. "Pull, my men, with all your might! Be ready, Goths!"
Cethegus recognised the youth's tall figure. He even recognised the voice.
"Let the galley approach quite close. When within twenty feet, shoot! Not yet!--Now! now shoot!"
"Crouch close, Goths!" cried Totila.
A hail of arrows fell over the galley. But they rebounded from a roof of shields.
"Damn them!" cried Piso, behind the Prefect. "They intend to break the chain with the force of the shock. And they will surely do it, even if every man on deck should fall! The oarsmen we cannot reach, and the south wind cannot be wounded!"
"Fire the sails! fire the ship! Bring firebrands!" cried Cethegus.
Ever nearer rustled the threatening "Swan."
Ever nearer approached the ruinous shock against the tightly-stretched chains.
Firebrands were hurled at the galley.
One flew into the sail of the main-mast, burnt quickly up, and then died out.
A second--Cethegus himself had hurled it--passed close to the golden locks of the King. It fell near him. He had not remarked it; but a shepherd-boy, who carried no weapon but a shepherd's staff, ran up and trampled it out.
The other brands rebounded from the shields and fell hissing into the river.
And now the prow of the galley was only eight feet from the chain.
The Romans trembled in expectation of the shock.
Cethegus stepped to the bow of his boat, balancing and aiming his heavy spear.
"Mark!" he said; "as soon as the King falls, be quick with more firebrands."
Never had the practised soldier aimed better. Drawing back his spear once more, he launched it at the King with all the force lent to his arm by hatred.
His followers waited breathlessly. But the King did not fall. He had caught sight of Cethegus while aiming; at the same moment he threw down his long and narrow shield and awaited the flying shaft with his left arm drawn back.
Whistling came the spear straight at the spot where the King's bare neck showed above his breastplate.
When within a few inches of his throat, the King caught the shaft with his left hand and immediately hurled it back at the Prefect, wounding him on the left arm just above his shield.
Cethegus fell on his knee.
At the same instant the galley struck the chain. It burst. The Roman boats which lay near, including that of Cethegus, were upset; and most of them drove masterless down the river.
"Victory!" shouted Totila. "Yield, mercenaries!"
Cethegus, bleeding, swam to the left bank of the river. He saw how the Gothic galley lowered two boats, into one of which sprang the King.
He saw how a whole flotilla of large vessels, which had sailed up in the wake of the King's galley, now broke through the boats of his bowmen, and landed troops on both sides of the river.
He saw how his Abasgians--neither armed nor in the mood for a hand-to-hand fight--surrendered themselves by companies to the Goths.
He saw how a rain of arrows from the royal galley fell upon the defenders on the left bank.
He saw how the little boat, in which stood the King, now approached the place where he himself stood, dripping with water.
He had lost his helmet in the river, his shield he had thrown away, in order the more speedily to gain the land.
He was on the point of attacking the King, who had just landed, with his sword alone, when a Gothic arrow grazed his neck.
"Well hit, Haduswinth?" cried a young voice; "better than at the Mausoleum!"
"Bravo, Gunthamund!"
Cethegus tottered.
Syphax caught his arm.
At the same moment a hand was laid on his shoulder. He recognised Marcus Licinius.
"You here! Where are your men?"
"Dead!" said Marcus. "The hundred Romans fell on the bulwark. Teja, the terrible Teja, stormed it. The half of your Isaurians fell on the way to the Capitol. The rest still keep the doors, and the half-bulwark in front of your house. I can no more. Teja's axe penetrated through my shield and entered my ribs. Farewell, O great Cethegus! Save the Capitol. But--look there! Teja is quick!"
And he fell to the ground.
From the Capitoline Hill flames rose high into the night.
"There is nothing more to be done here," the Prefect said with difficulty, for he was losing blood fast and becoming rapidly weak. "I will save the Capitol! To you, Piso, I leave the barbarian King. Once before you have wounded a Gothic King upon the threshold of Rome. Now wound a second, but this time mortally! You, Lucius, will revenge your brother. Do not follow me!"
As he spoke he cast one more furious glance at the King, at whose feet kneeled his Abasgians, and sighed deeply.
"You tremble, master!" said Syphax sadly.
"Rome trembles!" cried Cethegus. "To the Capitol!"
Lucius Licinius pressed the hand of his dying brother.
"I shall follow him notwithstanding," he said, "for he is wounded."
While Cethegus, Syphax, and Lucius Licinius disappeared in the distance, Piso crouched behind the columns of a Basilica close to which the street led upwards from the river.
Meanwhile the King had placed the Abasgians under the guard of his soldiers. He went a few steps up the bank of the river and pointed with his sword to the flames which arose from the Capitol.
Then he turned to the Goths who were landing.
"Forward!" he cried. "Make haste! The flames up there must be extinguished. The fight is over. Now, Goths, protect and preserve Rome, for it is yours!"
Piso took advantage of the moment.
"Apollo!" he exclaimed; "if ever my satires hit their mark, help now my sword!"
And he sprang from behind the column towards the King, who stood with his back turned to him. But before he could deal a blow, he let his sword fell with a loud cry. A sturdy stroke from a stick had lamed his hand.
Immediately a young shepherd sprang upon him and pulled him to the ground, kneeling on his breast.
"Yield, thou Roman wolf!" cried a clear boyish voice.
"Ah! Piso.... the poet He is thy prisoner, boy," said the King, who now turned. "He shall ransom himself with a goodly sum. But who art thou, young shepherd?"
"He is the saviour of your life, sire," interposed old Haduswinth. "We saw the Roman rush at you, but we were too far off to call or help you. We owe your life to this boy."
"What is thy name, young hero?"
"Adalgoth."
"And what wouldst thou here?"
"Cethegus, the traitor, the Prefect of Rome! where is he, King? Pray tell me. I was sent to the boats. I heard that he would oppose thy attack here."
"He was here. He has fled; most likely to his house."
"Wouldst thou overcome that King of Hell with this stick?" asked Haduswinth.
"No," cried the boy; "I have now a sword."
And he took up his prisoner's sword, which was lying on the ground; brandished it over his head and rushed away.
Totila gave Piso in charge to the Goths, who had now landed in great numbers.
"Hasten!" he cried again. "Save the Capitol, which the Romans are destroying!"