But suddenly there arose a strong breeze from the south, rippling the surface of the water.
"Do you feel the wind? It is the breath of the God of Victory! Set the sails! Now follow me, my Goths!" cried a joyful voice.
The sails were set, and the wings of the royal galley, the "Wild Swan," spread wide to the breeze.
It was a magnificent spectacle as the great vessel, all its canvas spread, and urged by a hundred oarsmen, came majestically up the river, illuminated by the terrible light from the burning masts and boats.
With irresistible force the noble galley sailed up the stream.
On both sides of the upper deck, high above the heads of the oarsmen on the lower deck, kneeled close rows of Gothic warriors, their shields forming a brazen roof to protect them from the arrows of the foe.
Upon the bows of the ship an immense figure of a swan lifted high its snowy wings.
Between these wings, upon the back of the swan, stood King Totila, his sword in his right hand.
"Forward!" he cried. "Pull, my men, with all your might! Be ready, Goths!"
Cethegus recognised the youth's tall figure. He even recognised the voice.