"Oh that I were dead!" sighed Belisarius. "Evacuate the camp! Out by the Porta Decumana! Retreat in good order to the bridges behind us!"
But the command to leave the camp broke the last ties of discipline and order.
While the charred beams of the gate fell under the thundering strokes of Teja's axe, and the Black Earl was the first to spring into the camp through the flames and smoke, the fugitives tore open all the gates which led to Rome, and hastened in confused masses to the river.
The first comers reached the two bridges unhindered and unfollowed. They had some time to spare before Hildebad and Teja could compel Belisarius to leave the burning camp.
But suddenly--oh, horror!--the Gothic horns sounded close at hand.
Witichis and Totila, as soon as they knew that the camp was taken, had mounted at once, and now led their horsemen from the right and left, to attack the fugitives in the flank.
Belisarius had just galloped out of the camp by the Decumanian Gate, and was hurrying to one of the bridges, when he saw the threatening troops of horsemen rushing up on both sides.
The great general still preserved his composure.
"Forwards at a gallop to the bridges!" he commanded his Saracens; "defend them!"
It was too late. A dull crash; then a second--the two narrow bridges had broken beneath the weight of the crowding fugitives, and by hundreds the Hunnish horsemen and the Illyrian lance-bearers--Justinian's pride--fell into the marshy waters.