Volume Iii Part 50 (2/2)

”I regret, my general,” said Lucius Licinius, ”that I cannot share your joy and confidence.”

”I neither,” cried Salvius Julia.n.u.s. ”I fear Na.r.s.es; I mistrust him.”

”Oho! what wise men!” laughed Piso. ”One should exaggerate nothing; not even prudence. Has not everything turned out better than we dared to hope since the night when a shepherd-boy struck the greatest Roman poet upon his immortal verse-writing hand, and the great Prefect of Rome swam down the Tiber in a granary?--since Ma.s.surius Sabinus was recognised by Earl Markja, dressed in the garments of his Hetares, in which disguise he was about to make his escape?--and since the great jurist, Salvius Julia.n.u.s, was rudely fished up, bleeding, from the slime of the river by Duke Guntharis? Who would have thought then that we should ever be able to count upon our fingers the day when not a single Goth would be left to tread Italian soil?”

”You are right, poet,” said Cethegus with a smile; ”these two friends of ours suffer from '_Na.r.s.es_-fever,' as their hero suffers from epilepsy. To over-rate one's enemy is also a failing. The holy remains upon which those priests have sworn, are really sacred to them; they will not break such an oath.”

”If I had only seen, besides the priests and artisans,” replied Licinius, ”any of our friends upon the walls! But there were none but fullers, butchers, and carpenters! Where is the aristocracy of Rome?

Where are the men of the Catacombs?”

”Taken away as hostages,” said Cethegus. ”And they were rightly served?

Did they not return to Rome, and do homage to the fair-haired Goth? If now the 'Black Earl' cuts off their heads, it cannot be helped. Be comforted; you see things in too dark a light, all of you. The crus.h.i.+ng superiority of Na.r.s.es has made you timid. He is a great general; but the fact that he has made this treaty with Rome--this agreement that I, and no other, should be admitted--and that he has _kept_ it, shows that he is harmless as a statesman. Let us but once again breathe the air of the Capitol! It does not agree with epileptic subjects.”

And when, the next morning, the young tribunes went to fetch the Prefect from his tent to join the united march against Teja, their leader received them with sparkling eyes.

”Well,” he cried, ”who knows the Romans best, you or the Prefect of Rome? Listen--but be silent. Last night a centurion, one of the newly-formed city cohorts, named Publius Macer, stole out of Rome and into my tent. The Pope has entrusted to his care the Porta Latina, to that of his brother Marcus, the Capitol. He showed me both commissions--I know the handwriting of Pelagius--they are authentic.

The Romans are long since tired of the rule of the priesthood. They would rejoice once more to see me, and you, and my Isaurians patrolling the walls. Publius left me his nephew Aulus, at once as a hostage and a pledge, who will let us know the night--which will be announced to him in the harmless words of a letter agreed upon beforehand--on which the Romans will open to us their gates and the Capitol. Na.r.s.es cannot complain if the Romans voluntarily admit us--I shall use no force. Now, Licinius! Tell me, Julia.n.u.s, who best knows Rome and the Romans?”

CHAPTER V.

Na.r.s.es now marched to Anagnia. Two days after his arrival, his two wings reached that place according to order. After some days occupied in resting, mustering, and newly ordering his immense forces, the commander-in-chief marched to Terracina, where the remainder of the troops of Armatus and Dorotheos joined him. And now the united army rolled forward against the Goths, who had taken up a most excellent and secure position on Vesuvius, on the opposite mountain. Mons Lactarius, and on both sh.o.r.es of the little river Draco, which flowed into the sea north of Stabiae.

Since he had left c.u.mae, marched past Neapolis (the citizens of which place shut their strong gates, which had been restored by Totila, overpowered the garrison and declared that, following the example of Rome, they would at present hold their fortress against both parties), and reached his chosen battle-field, King Teja had done all that was possible to make his naturally strong position still stronger.

He had caused provisions to be carried from the fertile country around up to the mountains, in sufficient quant.i.ties to nourish his people until the light of the last day should dawn upon his nation.

It has ever been a vain task for learned investigation to attempt to find on Mons Lactarius or Vesuvius the exact spots which correspond to the description of Procopius. It is impossible to fix upon any one of the innumerable ravines and valleys. And yet the description of the Byzantine historian, grounded as it was upon the verbal reports of the leaders and generals of the army of Na.r.s.es, cannot be doubted.

Rather may the contradictions be simply explained by the sudden, forcible and gigantic changes, and by the still more numerous, gradual and slighter alterations made in the face of the country by streams of lava, landslips, the crumbling of the rocks, and floods which have taken place upon that never quiet mountain, during the course of more than thirteen centuries. Even credible accounts of much later Italian authors, concerning places and positions on Mount Vesuvius, cannot always be reconciled with the reality.

The ground which sucked up Teja's life-blood has no doubt been covered, ages ago, by deep layers of silent and impenetrable lava.

Even Na.r.s.es was compelled to admire the circ.u.mspection with which his barbarian adversary had chosen his last place of defence.

”He intends to die like the bear in his den,” he exclaimed as he observed the whole of the Gothic defences from his litter at Nuceria.

”And many of you, my dear wolves,” he added, turning with a smile to Alboin, ”will fall under the blows of this bear's paws when you try to trot through those narrow entrances.”

”Oho! It is only necessary to let so many run in at once that the bear gets both paws full and is not able to strike again.”

”Softly, softly! I know of a pa.s.s on Vesuvius--long ago, when I still nursed my miserable body hoping to restore its strength, I spent weeks together upon Mons Lactarius, in order to enjoy the pure air, and at that time I firmly impressed upon my memory the pa.s.s I speak of; from that pa.s.s--if the Goths get into it--only famine can drive them out.”

”That will be tiresome!”

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