orches!" he cried, and stepped to the front of his Roman
legions with a torch in his left hand. "Forward!" he cried. "Draw your
swords!"

But not a hand was raised.

Dumb with astonishment and terror, the whole troop--even the leaders,
even Licinius--looked at the demonic man, who, in the midst of all
Nature's rebellion, thought only of his goal, and of using the strife
of the elements and the terrors of the Almighty as means to prosecute
his own ends.

"Well? which is your duty? To listen to the thunder, or to me!" he
cried.

"General," said a centurion, stepping forward, "the men pray; for the
earth quaked."

"Do you think that Italy will devour her own children? No, Romans; see!
The very earth quakes at the tread of the barbarians. It rises, breaks
its bonds, and their walls fall. Roma, Roma aeterna!"

His words took effect.

It was one of those Caesarian speeches which move men to great deeds.

"Roma, Roma aeterna!" cried, first Licinius, and after him thousands of
Roman youths; and through night and storm, through thunder and
lightning, they followed the Prefect, whose grand enthusiasm
irresistibly carried them away.

Excitement lent wings to their feet. They were soon across the wide
moat which usually they scarcely dared to approach.

Cethegus was the first to reach the opposite side.

The wind had extinguished the torches.

But he found his way in the dark.

"Here, Licinius!" he cried, "follow me! Here must be the breach."

He sprang forward, but ran against some hard body and staggered back.

"What is that!" asked Lucius Licinius behind him. "A second wall?"

"No," said a quiet voice, "but a Gothic shield!"

"That is King Witichis!" said the Prefect furiously, and with bitter
hatred he looked at the dark figure before him.

He had counted upon a surprise. His hope was frustrated.

"If I but had him," he said to himself, "he should never hinder me
again!"

Looking behind, he now saw many torch-lights and heard the flourish of
trumpets. Belisarius was leading his troops to storm the walls.

Procopius reached the Prefect.

"Well, why do you stop? Do new walls keep you back?"

"Yes, living walls. There they stand," and the Prefect pointed forward
with his sword.

"Under the still tottering ruins, these Goths! Truly," cried
Procopius--

"'Si fractus illabatur orbis,
Impavidos ferient ruinae!'

They are courageous men!"

But now Belisarius was at hand with hi