A Struggle For Rome Volume Ii Part 18

"They a.s.sembled yesterday at Regeta," Totila began again. "Theodahad is deposed, and Earl Witichis----"

The portcullis was slowly raised, and Totila was just about to give his horse the spur, when a woman rushed from the row of soldiers, and cast herself before the animal's hoofs.

"Fly!" she cried. "The enemy is before you! the city is taken!"

But she could not finish; a lance penetrated her heart.

"Miriam!" cried Totila, horrified, and checked his horse.

But Thoris.m.u.th, who was close behind, and who had long been suspicious, now reached his arm past the grating, and separated the rope which held the portcullis up with his sword, so that the portcullis fell with a loud crash just in front of Totila.

A hail of spears and arrows flew through the portcullis.

"Up with the portcullis!" cried Johannes from within. "Out! Upon them!"

But Totila did not move.

"Miriam! Miriam!" he cried in great grief.

Once more she opened her eyes, with a dying look of love and pain. That look told everything; it pierced Totila's heart.

"For thee!" she sighed, and fell back.

He forgot Neapolis, danger, and death.

"Miriam!" he cried again, and stretched out both his hands.

An arrow touched his horse's flank; the n.o.ble animal reared. The portcullis began to rise. Thoris.m.u.th caught Totila's bridle, wrenched his horse round, and gave it such a stroke with the flat of his sword, that it galloped away like the wind.

"Up and away, sir!" he cried, rus.h.i.+ng after Totila. "They must be speedy who would overtake us!"

And the riders flew back on the Via Capuana, the way that they had come. Not far behind followed Johannes, ignorant of the way, and confused by the darkness of the night.

Totila's party presently met with the garrison of the Castle of Aurelian, which was marching towards Neapolis.

They all halted together upon a hill, whence they could see the city and the ramparts, partially illuminated by the Byzantine watch-fires on the walls.

Only then did Totila recover from his grief and consternation.

"Farewell, Miriam!" he sighed. "Farewell, Uliaris! Neapolis, I shall see thee again!"

And he gave orders to march forward to Rome.

But from this hour a shadow fell upon the soul of the young Goth.

Miriam, with the holy right of suffering, had buried herself in his heart for ever.

When Johannes returned from his fruitless pursuit, and sprang from his horse, he cried in a furious voice: "Where is the girl who warned him?

Throw her to the dogs!" And he hurried away to Belisarius, to report the mishap.

But no one could tell how the lovely corpse had disappeared. The horses had trampled it beyond recognition, thought the crowd.

But _one_ knew better--Garizo, the Bajuvar.

He had borne her away from the tumult in his strong arms like a sleeping child; had carried her into the little garden, had lifted the stone from the scarcely-covered grave, and had laid the daughter carefully by her father's side.

Then he stood still and contemplated her features. In the distance sounded the tumult from the plundered town, in which the Huns of Belisarius, in spite of his command, burned and murdered, and did not even spare the churches, until the general himself, rus.h.i.+ng amongst them with his drawn sword, put a stop to the cruel work of destruction.

Such a n.o.ble expression lay upon Miriam's dead face, that Garizo did not dare to kiss it, as he so much longed to do. So he placed her with her face to the east, gathered a rose which was blooming near the grave, and laid it upon her breast.

He wished to take part in the pillage, but he could not leave the place; he turned back again. And all the night long, leaning on his sword, he kept watch over the grave of the beauteous girl.

He looked up at the stars and repeated an ancient blessing on the dead, which his mother had taught him in his home on the Liusacha. But that did not satisfy him; he added a Christian paternoster.

And when the sun rose, he carefully placed the stone over the grave and went away.

Thus Miriam had disappeared without leaving a trace behind.

But in Neapolis the people, who in secret were faithful to Totila, told how his guardian angel had descended to save him, and had then reascended to heaven.

CHAPTER V.

The fall of Neapolis had occurred a few days after the meeting at Regeta, and Totila, on his march thither, met at Formiae with his brother Hildebad, whom King Witichis had at once sent off with a few thousands to strengthen the garrison at Neapolis, until he himself could follow with a larger force.

As things stood at present, the brothers could do nothing but fall back upon the main army at Regeta, where Totila reported the sad events of the last few days in Neapolis.

The loss of the third city of the realm--one of the main bulwarks of Italy--changed the whole plan of the Gothic campaign.

Witichis had reviewed the troops a.s.sembled at Regeta; they amounted to about twenty thousand men. These, with the little troop brought back by Earl Teja on his own account, were, for the moment, the whole available force. Before the strong divisions which Theodahad had sent away to southern Gaul and Noric.u.m, to Istria and Dalmatia--although they had been summoned in all haste--could return, all Italy might be lost.

Notwithstanding, the King had resolved to throw himself, with these twenty thousand, into the fortress of Neapolis, and there oppose the superior forces of the enemy, until reinforcements should arrive.

But now that the strong city had fallen into Belisarius's hand, Witichis gave up this plan. His composed courage was as far from foolhardiness as from timidity. And the King was obliged to force himself to a far more painful resolve.

While, during the days following Totila's arrival in the camp before Rome, the grief and anger of the Goths sought relief in cursing the traitor Theodahad, Belisarius, and the Italians; while the bold youth here and there began to grumble at the King's delay, who would not lead them against these degenerate Greeks, four of whom it took to stand against one Goth; while the impatience of the army already began to rebel against inactivity, the King acknowledged to himself, with a heavy heart, that it was necessary to retreat still farther, and even give up Rome.

Day by day news came of the increase of the army of Belisarius. At Neapolis alone he had gained ten thousand men--at once hostages and comrades. From all sides the Italians joined his flag; from Neapolis to Rome, no place was strong enough to oppose such a force, and the smaller towns on the coast opened their gates to the enemy with rejoicing.

The Gothic families dwelling in those parts fled to the camp of the King, and told how, the very day after the fall of Neapolis, c.u.mae and Atilla had succ.u.mbed; then followed Capua, Cajeta, and even the fortified Benevento.

The vanguard of Belisarius--Huns, Saracens, and Moorish hors.e.m.e.n--was already stationed before Formiae.

The Goths expected and desired a battle before the gates of Rome. But Witichis had long since seen the impossibility, with an army of only twenty thousand men, of encountering Belisarius, who, by that time, would be able to muster a hundred thousand in the open field.

For a time he entertained the idea of being able to hold the mighty fortifications of Rome--Cethegus's proud work--against the Byzantine incursion; but he was soon obliged to renounce even this hope.

The population of Rome now counted--thanks to the Prefect--more armed and practised men than they had possessed for many a century, and the King daily convinced himself of the spirit which animated them.