"This must not continue any longer," cried Cethegus angrily; and he tore a bow and quiver from an archer who stood near him, and hurried to the battlements over the gate.
"Here, archers and slingers! Follow me!" he cried. "Bring heavy stones. Where is the next balista? Where the scorpions? That penthouse must come down!"
But under it stood Gothic archers, who eagerly looked through the apertures at the pinnacles of the battlements.
"It is useless, Haduswinth," grumbled young Gunthamund; "for the third time I have aimed in vain. Not one of them will venture even his nose above the battlements."
"Patience!" answered the old man; "only keep thy bow ready bent. Some curious body will be sure to show himself. Lay a bow ready for me too, and have patience."
"Patience! That is easier for thee with thy seventy years, than for me with my twenty," grumbled Gunthamund.
Meanwhile Cethegus reached the wall over the gate, and cast a look across the plain.
There he saw the King standing motionless in the distance with his centre, upon the right bank of the Tiber.
This sight disturbed him.
"What does he intend? Has he learned that the commander-in-chief ought not to fight? Come, Gajus," he cried to a young archer, who had boldly followed him, "your young eyes are sharp. Look over the battlements. What is the King doing there?"