"If you will come to my tent, you will learn what measures I have taken against the probably great bloodshed which will ensue if the barbarians venture to sally, as they threaten. But I have still a painful communication to make to you. News, which reached me yesterday evening by sea from Rome, informs me that your tribunes and the greater part of the Isaurians have been killed."
"Ah! Licinius, Piso, Julianus!" cried the Prefect, startled out of his icy and defiant calmness by deep pain.
After a pause he controlled his emotion sufficiently to take up the letter and read on:
"When they had been quietly admitted into the city (shamefully decoyed!) they refused to take the oath of allegiance to the Emperor. They tried, contrary to their promise, to use force. Lucius Licinius attempted to take the Capitol by storm; Piso, the Porta Latina; Salvus Julianus, the Mausoleum. They fell, each before the place which he attacked. What remained of the Isaurians were taken prisoners."
"My second Julius follows the first!" cried Cethegus. "Well, I do not need an heir, for Rome will never now be mine! It is over! The great struggle for Rome is over! And brute force, small cunning, has conquered the mind of Cethegus as it did the sword of the Goth. O Romans, Romans! You, too, my sons? You are my Brutus. Come, Syphax, you are free. I go to meet death. Go back to your deserts."
"O master!" cried Syphax, sobbing passionately, as he crouched at the feet of Cethegus. "Do not send me from you! I am not less faithful than Aspa! Let me die with you!"
"Be it so," said Cethegus quietly, and laying his hand upon the Moor's head. "I have loved you, my panther! Then die with me. Give me my helm, shield, sword, and spear."
"Whither go you?"
"First to Narses."
"And then?"