his
invincibility, that all who recognised the tall form of the commander
on his roan, hesitated, halted, and with a cry of encouragement, turned
once more to face the pursuing Goths.

Here, at least, the flight was at an end.

Up came a tremendous Goth, easily forcing his way.

"Ha, ha! I am glad you are tired of running, you swift-footed Greeks! I
could no longer pant after you! Your legs are superior to ours; let us
see if your arms be so too. Ha! why do you fall back, my lads? Because
of him on the roan? What of him?"

"Sir, that must be a King among the southerners; one can hardly bear
the glance of his angry eye."

"That would indeed be curious. Ah! that must be Belisarius! I am glad
to meet thee, thou bold hero!" he cried across to Belisarius.
"Dismount, and let us measure the strength of our arms. Look, I too am
on foot. Thou wilt not?" he cried angrily. "Must I fetch thee down from
thy hack?"

And he swung his immense spear in his right hand.

"Turn, sir, avoid him!" cried Aigan: "that giant hurls small masts!"

"Turn, general," repeated the hypaspistes anxiously.

But Belisarius, raising his short sword, rode quietly a horse's length
nearer to the Goth. Whizzing came the mighty spear, straight at his
breast.

But just before it touched, a swift stroke of his short Roman sword,
and the spear fell harmless on one side.

"Hail to Belisarius, hail!" cried the Byzantines, and they pressed
forward anew.

"A famous stroke!" laughed Hildebad angrily. "Let us see if thy fence
can parry _this_!"

And, bending forward, he lifted from the ploughed field an old jagged
boundary-stone, swung it in both hands backward and forward, lifted it
above his head, and hurled it with all his might at the advancing hero.

A cry from the Byzantines--Belisarius fell backwards from his horse.

All was over.

"Belisarius down! Woe, woe! All is lost!" cried the Byzantines, as the
tall form disappeared, and fled madly towards the camp.

A few ran on without pause until they reached the gates of Rome.

It was in vain that the lance and spear-bearers threw themselves
desperately against the Goths; they could only save their chief, but
not the battle.

The first sword-stroke of Hildebad, who now rushed up to Belisarius,
was received on the faithful breast of Maxentius. But also a Gothic
horseman, who was the next to reach the place, and who had killed seven
men before he could make his way to the magister militum, fell