Cethegus was in a fury. He alone was too weak to oppose the order. He was obliged to yield.
His plans were ruined. He had wished to take the city by storm in order--as he had done in Rome--to take possession of its principal defences. And he foresaw that it would be now delivered completely into the hand of Belisarius. He led his troops away in disgust.
But the events which actually occurred afterwards, were very different to what either the Prefect or Belisarius had expected.
CHAPTER XXI.
The King had left the breach in the wall and the Tower of Ætius to the care of Hildebad, and hurried at once to the place of the conflagration.
When he arrived he found the fire dying out--but merely for want of more combustibles.
The whole contents of the magazines, together with the wooden walls and roofs, and everything that could burn, had been destroyed; not a remnant of corn nor a splinter of wood was left. The naked smoke and soot-blackened stone walls of the marble Circus alone still rose into the sky. Not a sign of its having been struck by lightning could be seen. The fire must have glimmered for some time after the lightning had kindled the woodwork, and spread slowly and unseen through the interior of the building; and when smoke and flame had burst through the apertures in the roof, it was too late to save the structure. The inhabitants had enough to do to save the neighbouring houses, of which many had already caught fire in various places.
The rain, which began to fall shortly before daybreak, came to their assistance. The wind, thunder and lightning had ceased; but when the sun broke through the clouds it only illumined, instead of the granaries, a miserable heap of rubbish and ashes in the middle of the marble Circus.
The King leaned against one of the pillars of the Basilica, sadly and silently looking at the ruins.
For a long time he stood motionless, only sometimes he drew his mantle more closely over his heaving chest.