"Bravo, Gunthamund!"
Cethegus tottered.
Syphax caught his arm.
At the same moment a hand was laid on his shoulder. He recognised Marcus Licinius.
"You here! Where are your men?"
"Dead!" said Marcus. "The hundred Romans fell on the bulwark. Teja, the terrible Teja, stormed it. The half of your Isaurians fell on the way to the Capitol. The rest still keep the doors, and the half-bulwark in front of your house. I can no more. Teja's axe penetrated through my shield and entered my ribs. Farewell, O great Cethegus! Save the Capitol. But--look there! Teja is quick!"
And he fell to the ground.
From the Capitoline Hill flames rose high into the night.
"There is nothing more to be done here," the Prefect said with difficulty, for he was losing blood fast and becoming rapidly weak. "I will save the Capitol! To you, Piso, I leave the barbarian King. Once before you have wounded a Gothic King upon the threshold of Rome. Now wound a second, but this time mortally! You, Lucius, will revenge your brother. Do not follow me!"
As he spoke he cast one more furious glance at the King, at whose feet kneeled his Abasgians, and sighed deeply.