ome."

"March home, without fighting!" asked Marcus, astonished. "You surely
know that a battle is pending?"

"Just for that very reason!"

And with these words Cethegus departed to wake Belisarius in his tent.

But he found him already up. Procopius stood near him.

"Do you know already. Prefect?" said Belisarius. "Fugitive country
people say that a troop of horsemen approaches. The fools ride to their
destruction; they think the road is open as far as Rome."

And he continued to don his armour.

"But the peasants also say that the horsemen are only the vanguard. A
terrible army of barbarians follows," warned Procopius.

"Vain rumours! These Goths are afraid; Witichis dare not meet me. I
have protected the bridge over the Anio with a tower, fourteen miles
this side Rome; Martinus has built it after my plan. That alone will
hinder the barbarian foot-soldiers for more than a week, even should a
few hacks manage to swim across the water."

"You err, Belisarius. I know for a fact that the whole Gothic army
approaches!" said Cethegus.

"Then go home, if you fear it."

"I will take advantage of this permission. I have had fever these last
few days. And my Isaurians suffer from it also. With your leave, I will
go back to Rome."

"I know this fever," said Belisarius; "that is, I know it in others. It
passes as soon as ditches and walls are between the patient and the
enemy. Go, if you will; we need you as little as your Isaurians."

Cethegus bowed, and left the tent.

"We shall meet again, O Belisarius!" he said. "Give the signal for the
march of my Isaurians," he called loudly to Marcus; "and to my
Byzantines also," he added in a low voice.

"But Belisarius has----"

"_I_ am their Belisarius. Syphax, my horse."

As he mounted, a troop of Roman horsemen galloped up; torches were
carried before the leader.

"Who goes there? Ah! you, Cethegus! What? you ride away? Your people
march towards the river! You surely will not leave us now, in this time
of imminent danger?"

Cethegus bent forward.

"Hoho! it is you, Calpurnius? I did not recognise you; you look so
pale. What news from the front?"

"Fugitive peasants say," answered Calpurnius anxiously, "that there are
certainly more than a party of skirmishers. The King of the barbarians,
Witichis himself, is on the march through the Sabine mountains. They
have already reached the left bank of the Tiber. Resistance, then, is
madness--destruction. I follow yo