"Yes, if the Moors should fail us! How many are there, did you say?"
"Twelve thousand. They ought to have arrived the day before yesterday, if they had hastened here from the camp at Bulla, according to the agreement. The King sent messenger after messenger, urging haste, in vain. At last, full of impatience, he himself rode along the Numidian road to meet them. For if twelve thousand infantry fail us to-morrow,--they were to form our whole left wing,--our position will be--hark! that is the horn of the camp-guard. The King must have returned. Let me ask."
But already footsteps and the clank of weapons were heard close at hand; the husband and wife, springing up, hurried to the entrance of the tent. The curtains were drawn back from the outside, and before them, the helmet on his lofty head, stood Zazo.
"You, brother?"
"You back again, Zazo! Oh, now all is well!"
Graver, quieter than usual, but resolute and calm, the strong warrior stood between the two who clung to him, pressing his hands. It was a joy, a consolation, to look at the erect, steadfast man.
"All is not well, my sweet sister-in-law," he answered sadly though firmly. "Alas for Ammata, and the whole day of Decimum! I do not understand it," he added, shaking his head, "but much may yet be retrieved."
"Whence came you so suddenly? Have you seen Gelimer?"
"He will be here soon. He promised me. He is still praying in his tent, with Verus."
"You are from--?"