Part 40 (2/2)
The King's bowed figure straightened; his eyes lost their dull, hopeless expression.
”Now you see how wicked it would have been to seek death. This is the finger which G.o.d's mercy extends to us. Let us grasp it.”
CHAPTER XX
Verus, in order to make the enemy wholly unsuspicious, offered to propose to Fara an interview with Gelimer at noon the following day, on the northern slope of the mountain, in which the last offers of Belisarius should be again discussed. After some scruples of conscience, the King consented to this stratagem of war. Verus reported that Fara was very much pleased with his communication, and would await Gelimer on the following day. Nevertheless, the besieged band kept a sharp watch upon the besiegers' outposts and camp--the high mountain-top afforded a foil view of their position--to note any movement in the direction of the descent which might indicate the discovery of the intended flight or the Soloe hiding-place at the foot of the mountain. Nothing of the sort was apparent; the foemen below spent the day in the usual manner. The guards were not strengthened, and after darkness closed in, the watchfires were neither increased nor changed. At nightfall the besiegers also lighted their fires on the northern side in the same places as before.
Shortly before midnight the little procession began its march. The Moors, who were familiar with the way, went first provided with ropes and iron braces. At every step the fugitives were obliged to feel their way cautiously with the handles of their spears, testing the smooth, crumbling surface of the rock to try whether it would afford a firm foothold. Next followed Gibamund and Hilda; the Princess had folded Genseric's great banner closely and tied it about the pole, which she used as a staff; then came Gelimer, behind him Verus and the small remaining band of Vandals. So they moved for about half an hour along the summit of the mountain, until they reached the southern side, down which the narrow path led. Each step was perilous to life; for they dared not light torches.
As the little group began the descent, Gelimer turned. ”Oh, Verus,” he whispered, ”death may be very near to us all. Repeat a prayer--where is Verus?”
”He hastened back some time ago,” replied Markomer. ”He wished to bring a relic he had forgot. He bade us go on, saying that he would overtake us at the next turn in the road before we descended the ravine.”
The King hesitated, and began to murmur the Lord's Prayer.
”Forward!” whispered Sersaon, the leading Moor. ”There is no more time to lose. We need only pa.s.s quickly around the next projecting rock--Ha!
Torches, treason! Back to--”
He could say no more; an arrow transfixed his throat. Torches glared with a dazzling light into the eyes of the fugitives just as they turned the jutting cliff. Weapons flashed, and before the ranks of the Herulians stood a man holding aloft a torch to light the group.
”There, the second one is the King,” he cried. ”Capture him alive.” He took a step forward.
”Verus!” shrieked Gelimer, falling back unconscious. Two Vandals caught him and bore him up the height.
”On! Storm the mountain!” Fara ordered below. But it was impossible to storm a height which could be climbed only by clinging with both hands to the perpendicular cliff. Fara himself instantly perceived it when, by the torchlight, he beheld the path and saw Gibamund standing with levelled spear on the last broader ledge of rock which afforded a firm footing.
”It is a pity!” he shouted. ”But now this loophole will henceforth be barred also. Surrender!”
”Never!” cried Gibamund, hurling his spear. The man by Fara's side fell.
”Shoot! Quickly! All at once!” the Herulian leader angrily commanded.
Behind the Herulians were twenty archers, dismounted Huns. Their bows tw.a.n.ged; Gibamund sank silently backward. Hilda, with a cry of anguish, caught him in her arms.
But Markomer, raising his lance threateningly, already stood in the place of the fallen man.
”Cease,” Fara ordered. ”But keep the outlet strongly guarded. The priest said that they must yield either to-morrow or on the following day.”
Gelimer was roused from his unconsciousness by Hilda's shriek.
”Now Gibamund, too, has fallen,” he said very calmly. ”All is over.”
Supported by his spear, he climbed wearily back. A few Vandals followed him. He vanished in the darkness of the night.
Hilda sat silent with the head of her lifeless husband in her lap, and the staff of the banner resting on her shoulder. She had no tears, but groped in the thick gloom for the beloved face. At last she heard a Vandal, returning from the King, say to Markomer:
”This was the final blow. To-morrow--I am to announce it to the enemy--Gelimer will submit.”
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