But Syphax continued:
"Do you not know then? Oh, do not doubt it. All Africa knows that if the head of a corpse is wanting, the soul must creep for ages through dust and mire, in the shape of a vile and filthy headless worm. Oh, they shall not separate your head from your trunk!"
"It still stands firm upon these shoulders of mine, like the globe on the shoulders of Atlas. Peace--some one comes."
The Isaurian who had been sent to Narses, entered with a sealed letter.
"To Cethegus Cæsarius: Narses, the magister militum. There is nothing to prevent your carrying out your wish to go to Rome."
"Now I understand," said Cethegus, and read on:
"The sentinels have orders to let you ride forth. But, if you insist upon going, I will give you a thousand Longobardians under Alboin as an escort, for the roads are very unsafe. As, in all probability, an attempt will be made by the Goths, to-day or tomorrow, to break through our lines, and repeated foolhardy sallies on the part of my soldiers have led to the loss of leaders and troops, I have ordered that no one be permitted to leave the camp without my express permission, and have entrusted the watch, even that of the tents, to my Longobardians."
Cethegus sprang to the entrance of his tent, and tore the curtains open. His four Isaurians were just being led away. Twenty Longobardians, under Autharis, drew up before the tent.
"I had thought of escaping to-night," he said to Syphax, turning back. "It is now impossible. But it is better so, more dignified. Rather a Gothic spear in my breast, than a Grecian arrow in my back. But I have not yet read all that Narses writes."
He read on: