CHAPTER XIII.
King Teja's intention was to throw himself at night with all his armed men--except a few guards who would be left in the ravine--into the camp of Narses, and there, favoured by the darkness and surprise, to commit great carnage.
Then, when the last of his warriors had fallen, and--probably at daybreak--the enemy prepared to assault the pass, the unarmed people--at least those who did not prefer slavery to death--were to seek an honourable grave in the neighbouring crater of Vesuvius, after which the few remaining defendants of the pass would sally forth and die fighting.
When the King called his people together, and left the alternative to their choice, he was filled with pride and joy to find that not one voice among the thousands of women and children--for all the boys from ten years of age and all the old men were armed--was raised in favour of dishonour rather than death. His hero soul rejoiced in the thought that his whole race, by a deed unheard of in the history of nations, would die a glorious and heroic death, and worthily seal the renown of their great past.
However, the despairing idea of the grim hero was not to be carried out. His dying eyes were to behold a brighter and more consoling picture. Narses, ever watchful and wary, had noticed the mysterious preparations of his enemies even sooner than Johannes and Cethegus, and had called a meeting of generals, which was to be held in his tent at the fifth hour, in order to explain to them his counter-measures.
It was a lovely September morning, full of shining light and shining mist over land and sea; a golden glow, such as, even in Italy, is only poured forth in like wondrous beauty over the Bay of Neapolis.
Into the clear sky curled the white cloud of smoke from the summit of Vesuvius. Upon the curved line of the shore the smooth and gentle waves rolled in a rhythmic measure. Close to the edge of the water--so close that the ripples of the waves often wetted his steel-shod feet--a lonely man walked slowly along, carrying his spear over his shoulder, and apparently coming from the left wing of the Byzantine army. The sun glistened upon his round shield, upon his splendid armour. The sea-breeze played with his crimson crest.
It was Cethegus; and the way he was going led to the gates of death. He was followed at a short distance by the Moor. He soon reached a little promontory which stretched out into the bay, and going to its outer point, he turned and looked towards the northwest. There lay Rome--his Rome.
"Farewell!" he cried with deep emotion; "farewell, ye seven immortal hills! Farewell, old Tiber stream! thou that hast laved the venerable ruins through many centuries. Twice hast thou tasted my blood; twice hast thou saved my life. Now, kindly River-god, thou canst save me no more! I have striven and fought for thee, my Rome, as none of thy children, not even Cæsar, has ever done before.--The struggle is over; the general without an army is vanquished. I now acknowledge that a mighty intellect may possibly supply the place of a single man, but not the want of a whole nation's patriotism. Intellect can preserve its own youth, but it cannot renew that of others, I have tried to do what is impossible; for to do only what is possible is common; and it is better to fall striving for the superhuman than to be lost in dull resignation among the common herd. But"--and he kneeled down and wet his hot forehead with the salt water--"be thou blessed, Ansonia's sacred flood; be thou blessed, Italians sacred soil!"--and he put his hand deep into the sea sand--"thy most faithful son parts from thee with a thankful heart--moved, not by the terrors of approaching death, but only by thy beauty. I forebode for thee, Italia, an oppressive foreign rule; I have not been able to turn it aside, but I have offered up my heart's blood; and if the laurels of thy Empire are for ever withered--may the olive of thy people's love of freedom still bloom amid the ruins of thy cities, and may the day quickly come when no foreign master rules in all the length and breadth of the land, and when thou art mistress of thyself from the sacred Alps to the sacred sea!"
He rose quietly, and now walked more rapidly through the centre camp to the tent of the commander-in-chief. When he entered it, he found all the generals and officers assembled. Narses called to him in a friendly voice, saying:
"You come at the right moment, Cethegus. Twelve of my officers, whom I have discovered in a foolish league, such as barbarians, but not the scholars o£ Narses, might make, have appealed to you in excuse. They say that what is shared in by the wise Cethegus cannot be foolish. Speak! have you really joined this league against Teja?"
"I have; and when I leave you--let me be the first, Johannes, without casting lots--I go straight to Vesuvius. The hour of the King's watch approaches."
"This pleases me, Cethegus."
"Thanks. It will, no doubt, save you much trouble, Prefect of Rome," answered Cethegus.
A movement of extreme surprise escaped all present; for even those who were initiated into the secret were amazed that Cethegus knew the position of affairs.
Narses alone remained unmoved. He merely said in a low voice to Basiliskos:
"He knows all, and it is well that he does so." Then he turned to Cethegus and said: "It is not my fault, Cethegus, that I did not tell you sooner of your dismissal; the Emperor had strictly forbidden me to do so. I approve of your resolve, for it agrees with my best intentions.--The barbarians shall not have the pleasure of slaying another myriad of my people tonight. We will march forward at once with all our troops, including both our wings, to within a spear's throw from the pass. We will not leave the Goths room to sally far out. The first step they take beyond the mouth of the ravine shall be amongst our spears. I have also nothing to object, Cethegus, if volunteers offer to fight that King of terrors. With his death, I hope, the resistance of the Goths will cease. Only one thing makes me anxious. I have long ago ordered up the Ionian fleet--for I expected that all would be over a few days earlier--and yet it has not arrived. The ships are to take the captured barbarians on board at once, and carry them to Byzantium.--Has the swift-sailer which I sent to gather news beyond the Straits, of Regium not yet returned. Captain Konon?"
"No, general. Neither has a second swift ship, which I sent after the first."
"Can the late storm have damaged the fleet?"
"Impossible, general! It was not violent enough. And the fleets according to the last reports, lay safe at anchor in the harbour of Brundusium."
"Well, we cannot wait for the ships! Forward, my leaders! We will march at once to the pass. Farewell, Cethegus! Do not let your dismissal disquiet you. I fear that you will be menaced with many a troublesome process when the war is ended. You have many enemies, rightly and wrongly. There are bad omens against you. But I know that from the very beginning you have believed in only one omen--'The only omen'----"
"'Is to die for the fatherland!' Grant me one more favour, Narses. Allow me--for my Isaurians and tribunes are in Rome--to gather round me all the Italians and Romans whom you have divided among your troops, and lead them against the barbarians."
For one moment Narses hesitated. Then he said:
"Well, go; gather them together and lead them--to death," he added in a low voice to Basiliskos. "There are at most fifteen hundred men. I do not grudge him the pleasure of falling at the head of his countrymen. Nor them the pleasure of falling behind him!--Farewell, Cethegus."
Silently greeting Narses with his uplifted spear, Cethegus left the tent.
"H'm!" said Narses to Alboin, "you may well look after him, Longobardian. There goes a remarkable piece of universal history. Do you know who that is marching away?"
"A great enemy to his enemies," said Alboin gravely.
"Yes, wolf, look at him again; there goes to his death--the last Roman!"
When all the leaders, except Basiliskos and Alboin, had left Narses, there hurried into the tent from behind a curtain, Anicius, Scævola, and Albinus, still in the disguise of Longobardians, and with faces full of alarm.
"What!" cried Scævola, "will you save that man from his judges?"
"And his body from the executioner; and his fortune from his accusers?" added Albinus.
Anicius was silent; he only clenched his hand upon the hilt of his sword.
"General," said Alboin, "let these two brawlers put off the dress of my people. I am disgusted with them."
"You are not wrong there, wolf!" said Narses; and turning to the others he said, "you need no further disguise. You are useless to me as accusers. Cethegus is judged; and the sentence will be carried out--by King Teja. But you, you ravens, shall not hack at the hero after he is dead."
"And the order of the Emperor?" asked Scævola stubbornly.
"Even Justinian cannot blind and crucify a dead man. When Cethegus Cæsarius has fallen, I cannot wake him up again to please the Emperor's cruelty. And of his money, you, Albinus, shall not receive a single solidus, nor you, Scævola, one drop of his blood. His gold is for the Emperor, his blood for the Goths, and his name for immortality."
"Do you wish the death of a hero for that wretch?" now asked Anicius angrily.
"Yes, son of Boëthius; for he has deserved it! But you have a veritable right to revenge yourself on him--you shall behead the fallen man, and take his head to the Emperor at Byzantium. Do you not hear the tuba? The fight has commenced!"