"He marched against Totila last evening. You were asleep. The physician forbade us to awaken you, and Demetrius also."
"Totila king, and you let me sleep! Do you not know that this flaxen-head is the very genius of the Goths? Demetrius wishes to win his laurels alone. How strong is he?"
"More than twice as strong as the Goths; twelve thousand to five thousand."
"Demetrius is lost. Up--to horse! Arm all who can carry a lance. Leave only the wounded to guard the walls. This firebrand Totila must be trampled out, or an ocean of blood cannot extinguish him. My weapons--to horse!"
"I have never seen the Prefect look so," said Lucius Licinius to the physician. "It must be fever? He grew pale."
"He is without fever."
"Then I do not comprehend it, for it cannot be fear. Syphax, let us follow him."
Cethegus urged on his troop indefatigably. So indefatigably, that only a small suite of horsemen could keep up with his impatience and the swift hoofs of his war-horse.
At long intervals followed Marcus Licinius, Massurius with Cethegus's mercenaries, and Balbus with the hurriedly-armed citizens of Ravenna. For Cethegus had indeed left in the fortress only old men, women and children, and the wounded soldiers.
At last the Prefect succeeded in communicating with the rear-guard of the Byzantines.