In the Forum of Hercules a citizen was sitting upon the marble steps of his house. He was a vine-dresser, and, as the dry branch hung at his door indicated, himself sold the produce of his vines. He glanced at the threatening thundercloud.
"I wish it would rain," he sighed. "If it does not rain, it will hail, and then all the fruit that has not been trampled by the enemy's horses will be completely destroyed."
"Do you call the troops of our Emperor enemies?" whispered his son, a Roman patriot. But he said it very softly, for just then a Gothic patrol turned the corner of the Forum. "I wish Orcus would devour them all, Greeks and barbarians! The Goths at least are always thirsty. See, there comes that long Hildebadus; he is one of the thirstiest. I shall be surprised if he has no desire to drink to-day, when the very stones are cracking with heat!"
Hildebad had just set the nearest watch. He held his helmet in his left hand; his lance was carelessly laid across his shoulder.
He passed the wine-house--to the great astonishment of its owner--turned into the next street, and soon stood before a lofty massive round tower--it was called the Tower of Ætius.
A handsome young Goth was walking up and down upon the wall in the shadow of the tower. Long light locks curled upon his shoulders, and the delicate white and red of his complexion, as well as his mild blue eyes, gave him almost a girlish aspect.
"Hey! Fridugern," Hildebad called up to him. "Hey! How canst thou bear to stay up there on that gridiron? With shield and breastplate too! Ouff!"
"I have the watch, Hildebad," answered the youth gently.
"Bother the watch! Dost thou think that Belisarius will attack us in this blazing heat? I tell you he is glad if he can get air; to-day he will not thirst for blood. Come with me; I came to fetch thee. The fat Ravennese in the Forum of Hercules has old wine and young daughters--let us put both to our lips."
The young Goth shook his long ringlets and frowned.