They followed him. So did I; but very near the last of the line. For, as the legal councillor of Belisarius, I do not consider myself under obligation to perform any deeds of special heroism. Only when he himself fights do I often foolishly imagine that my place is by his side.
I have never seen such a storm. Fragments of boulders and lances hurled by invisible hands crushed and spitted the men. But those who were left climbed, leaped, crept higher and higher. The top of the mountain--which neither of the two former scaling parties had approached--was gained. The hiding-places of many of the Moors concealed under the cliffs of the central portion were discovered, and numbers of these lean brown fellows paid for their loyal hospitality to the fugitives with their lives; I saw Fara himself kill three of them. He was just ranging his breathless band, and on the point of giving the order to rush up to the narrow gateway in the rocks that yawns in the mountain summit, when from this gateway burst the Vandals, the King in advance; the crown on his helmet betrayed him. I saw him very close at hand, and never shall I forget that face. He looked like a rapturous monk, and yet also like the hero Zazo, whom I saw fall before Belisarius. Behind him was a youth who strongly resembled him. The scarlet banner, I believe, was borne by a woman. Yet I am probably mistaken; for the whole charge fell upon us with the speed and might of a thunderbolt. The first rank of the Herulians was scattered as completely as if it had never stood there.
"Where is the King?" cried Fara, springing forward.
"Here," rang the answer.
The next instant five of his Herulians were supporting their sorely wounded leader. This I saw, then I fell backward. The young Vandal behind the King had sent his spear whizzing against my firm coat of mail; I staggered, fell, and slid like an arrow down the smooth sandy incline, much faster and more easily than I had climbed it. When I came to myself and rose again, Fara's faithful followers were bearing him past me on two shields. The leader of the Armenians was leaning on his spear.
"Do you believe it now, Fara?" he asked. "Yes," replied the German, pressing his bleeding head. "I believe it now. My beautiful helmet," he went on, laughing. "But better to have the helmet cleft than the skull under it, too." When he reached the bottom of the mountain he laughed no longer; one hundred and twenty of his two hundred Herulians lay dead among the rocks. I think this will be the only storming of Mount Pappua.
* * * * *
Fara's wound is healing. But he complains a great deal of headache.
* * * * *
They must be miserably starving to death on that accursed mountain. Deserters often come down now, but only Moors. Not a single Vandal during the whole campaign has voluntarily joined us, in spite of my fine invitation to treason and revolt! Of the much-lauded German virtues fidelity seems to be almost the only one which has remained to these degenerates.