And he sprang from behind the column towards the King, who stood with his back turned to him. But before he could deal a blow, he let his sword fell with a loud cry. A sturdy stroke from a stick had lamed his hand.
Immediately a young shepherd sprang upon him and pulled him to the ground, kneeling on his breast.
"Yield, thou Roman wolf!" cried a clear boyish voice.
"Ah! Piso.... the poet He is thy prisoner, boy," said the King, who now turned. "He shall ransom himself with a goodly sum. But who art thou, young shepherd?"
"He is the saviour of your life, sire," interposed old Haduswinth. "We saw the Roman rush at you, but we were too far off to call or help you. We owe your life to this boy."
"What is thy name, young hero?"
"Adalgoth."
"And what wouldst thou here?"
"Cethegus, the traitor, the Prefect of Rome! where is he, King? Pray tell me. I was sent to the boats. I heard that he would oppose thy attack here."
"He was here. He has fled; most likely to his house."