"Ah," cried Cethegus, "the odour of the roast meat for which their comrades sold their honour, tickles their nostrils! I come."
And he rode up to the Capitol, where the legionaries, about five hundred men, were standing in their ranks with a very gloomy and threatening aspect.
Looking at them with a searching eye, Cethegus slowly rode along their front.
At last he spoke.
"For you I had reserved the fame of having defended the Lares and Penates of the Capitol against the barbarians. I hear, indeed, that you prefer the joints of beef below there. But I will not believe it. You will not desert the man who, after centuries of helplessness, has again taught the Romans how to fight and conquer. Whoever will stand by Cethegus and the Capitol--let him raise his sword."
But not a blade was seen.
"Hunger is a more powerful god than the Capitoline Jupiter," said Cethegus contemptuously.
A centurion stepped forward.
"It is not that, Prefect of Rome. But we will not fight against our fathers and brothers who are on the side of the Goths."
"I ought to keep you as hostages for your fathers and brothers, and when they storm the bulwarks, throw to them your heads! But I fear it would not stop them in their enthusiasm, which comes from their stomachs! Go--you are not worthy to save Rome! Open the gate, Licinius. Let them turn their backs upon the Capitol and honour!"