Fara the Herulian reached him from the left, and cleft his dragon-shield with his battle-axe. Zazo flung the pieces at the helmet of the Herulian, stunning him so that he swayed in his saddle. Now Barbatus, the Illyrian leader, his long lance levelled, pressed upon Zazo from the right. With his last strength Zazo pushed it aside, sprang to the right, the shieldless side of the rider, and thrust his sword into his neck between the helmet and breastplate. Barbatus sank slowly from the saddle toward the left. But, in springing back, Zazo had fallen on his knees. Before he could rise, two horsemen with levelled lances stood before him.
"Help, Gibamund!" called the kneeling Prince, raising his left arm above his head in place of a shield. He looked around. Everywhere foes, no Vandal. Yes,--one. Yonder still waved the scarlet banner. "Help, Gibamund!" he cried.
One of his two assailants fell from his horse. Gibamund was at Zazo's side. He had struck the man under the shoulder of his upraised arm with the spear-point of the banner staff. But now Fara, who meanwhile had recovered from Zazo's blow, dropping his bridle, grasped with his left hand at the shaft of the scarlet standard. With great difficulty Gibamund defended himself with his sword against the tremendous blows the Herulian's right arm dealt with his battle-axe. And already the other horseman, in front of Zazo, bent a leonine face toward him.
"Yield, brave man. Yield to me. I am Belisarius."
But Zazo shook his head. With failing strength he sprang up, his sword raised to strike. Then the Roman General drove the point of his spear with all his force through his breastplate up to the handle.
The dying warrior cast one more glance toward the left. He saw Gibamund's white horse, covered with blood-stains, falling; he saw the scarlet banner sink. "Woe betide thee, Vandalia!" he cried, as his eyes grew dim in death.
"That was indeed a hero," said Belisarius, bending over him. "Where is Genseric's banner, Fara?"
"Gone!" replied the latter, wrathfully. "Far away. Do you see? It is already vanishing over there, beyond the stream."
"Who has--?"
"A woman. In a falcon helmet. With a shining white shield. I believe it was a Valkyria," said the pagan, with a slight shiver of fear. "It happened so swiftly I scarcely saw it. I had just struck down the young standard-bearer's horse. Just at that moment a black steed--I never saw such an animal--plunged against my own horse so that it fell back upon its haunches. I heard a cry: 'Hilda! I thank you!' At the same moment the black charger dashed far, far away from me. I think it now carried two figures! A long fluttering white mantle--or was it swan-wings?--and above floated the scarlet banner. There, now they are vanishing in that cloud of dust. 'Hilda!' the German murmured to himself. The name suits too. Yes, the Valkyria bore him away."