denly led the centre of his army from behind
the shelter of the row of tents to the left bank of the marshy little
brook. This stream was so small that it had no name, yet it never dried
up. And the left bank occupied by the Vandals was higher than the
right. Belisarius was not yet on the ground, but his subordinate
officers arranged their men as well as they could in their haste, where
each division happened to be standing or lying. The right Roman wing on
the hill consisted of the Huns, who did not move. Next to them,
according to secret orders, stood Fara with the Herulians, watching
these doubtful allies. Then followed, in the centre, Althias the
Thracian and Johannes the Armenian, with their picked troops of their
fellow-countrymen, and the shield and lance bearers of Belisarius's
bodyguard. Here gleamed the imperial standard, the _vexillum
praetorium_, the flag of the General, Belisarius. The left Roman wing
was formed of the other auxiliary troops except the Huns. The
Byzantines, too, had perceived that the victory would be decided in the
centre of the two armies. When Gibamund, on his white charger, led his
men forward, Hilda on her splendid stallion rode at his side. By her
husband's wish she had protected her beautiful head with a light
helmet, on which rose two white falcon wings; her bright golden locks
flowed over her white mantle. He had also pressed upon her a small,
shining shield, with a light silvery hue. Her white lower robe was
girdled with the black belt which supported the sheath of Teja's
dagger; but she had refused a breastplate on account of its weight.

"You will not let me fight with you or even ride by your side," she
complained.

Already the Byzantines' arrows were flying over the Vandals and
striking among Gibamund's men.

"Halt, love," he commanded, "go no farther! Not within reach of the
arrows! Wait here, on this little hill. I will leave ten men as a
guard. From this spot you can see a long distance. Watch the white
heron's wings on my helmet, and the dragon banner. I shall follow it."
A clasp of the hand; Gibamund dashed forward; Hilda quietly checked the
docile horse. Her face was very pale.

The first encounter came at once.

Johannes the Armenian, one of Belisarius's best leaders, pressed with
his countrymen through the stream, which reached only to their knees,
and rushed out of it up the steeper Vandal shore. He was instantly
hurled back. Zazo, with his foremost warriors, da