en whose dissolute
inefficiency better suited gladiators than general officers. They set
no watch, and made no attempt to repair the weak places in the walls.
Day and night they idled loosely; the soldiers were dispatched in all
directions to find them luxuries; that beautiful coast rang with their
revelry; and they only spoke of war in their cups. A few days earlier,
Apinius Tiro[210] had started on his mission, and, by rigorously
requisitioning gifts of money in all the country towns, was winning
more unpopularity than assistance for the cause.

In the meantime, one of Vergilius Capito's slaves deserted to 77
Lucius Vitellius, and promised that, if he were provided with men, he
would put the abandoned castle into their hands. Accordingly, at dead
of night he established a few lightly armed cohorts on the top of the
hills which overlooked the enemy. Thence the soldiers came charging
down more to butchery than battle. They cut down their victims
standing helpless and unarmed or hunting for their weapons, or perhaps
newly startled from their sleep--all in a bewildering confusion of
darkness, panic, bugle-calls, and savage cries. A few of the
gladiators resisted and sold their lives dearly. The rest rushed to
the ships; and there the same panic and confusion reigned, for the
villagers were all mixed up with the troops, and the Vitellians
slaughtered them too, without distinction. Just as the first uproar
began, six Liburnian cruisers slipped away with the admiral
Apollinaris on board. The rest were either captured on the beach or
overweighted and sunk by the crowds that clambered over them. Julianus
was taken to Lucius Vitellius, who had him flogged till he bled and
then killed before his eyes. Some writers have accused Lucius
Vitellius' wife, Triaria,[211] of putting on a soldier's sword, and
with insolent cruelty showing herself among the horrors of the
captured town. Lucius himself sent a laurel-wreath to his brother in
token of his success, and inquired whether he wished him to return at
once or to continue reducing Campania. This delay saved not only
Vespasian's party but Rome as well. Had he marched on the city while
his men were fresh from their victory, with the flush of success added
to their natural intrepidity, there would have been a tremendous
struggle, which must have involved the city's destruction. Lucius
Vitellius, too, for all his evil repute, was a man of action. Good men
owe their power to t