elled him. The Roman General's
banner sank, while Gibamund, surrounded and protected by his band of
picked warriors, waved the scarlet dragon standard high in the air.

Hilda saw it distinctly. Involuntarily she obeyed the impulse to go
forward after the victory. The stallion, yielding to the lightest
movement, bore her across the stream, whose water barely wet the edge
of her long white robe. She was on the other side. She was pursuing
victory. Before her, a little to the left, she already saw Gelimer and
his troops; the whole Vandal centre was advancing. It was the crisis,
the turning-point of the battle.

Again Althias tried to force his way through the Vandal ranks to
Gibamund himself; he had almost reached him, and they had exchanged two
whizzing sword-strokes, which made the sparks fly from their blades,
when from the left cries of grief and rage fell on the Thracian's ear
from the Byzantines. He turned, and saw his General's banner sink.

This was the second time; for Zazo had already struck down the second
man who bore it. The victor was stretching his hand toward the shaft,
which no third man seemed inclined to lift.

Just at that moment, close at hand on the right, German horns sounded
in Zazo's ears. The Herulians, dashing on their snorting horses upon
the Vandals' flank, broke through several of their ranks to their
leader.

A spear--well aimed, for Fara had hurled it--shattered the buffalo helm
on the hero's head. He could no longer think of Belisarius's banner. He
was obliged to consider his own safety.

"Help, brother Gelimer!" he shouted.

"I am here, brother Zazo," rang the answer. For the King was already at
hand. Slowly following the advance of the brothers, he had led his
Vandals and Moors nearer and nearer, and noticed the second charge and
the moment of peril.

"Forward! Cut Zazo out," he shouted, dashing upon the Herulians at the
head of his men. A warrior sprang to meet him, clutched the bridle of
the cream-colored charger with his left hand, and aimed his spear with
the right. Before it flew, Gelimer's sword had pierced the Herulian's
throat. Hilda saw it; for, as if irresistibly attracted by the battle,
she rode nearer and nearer.

Just at this moment she perceived Verus in full priestly robes,
unarmed, dash past her straight to the King. It was no easy task to
force a passage to his side through the Moors and Vandals. Gelimer
struck down a second spear-man, a third. Already he was c