lose to Zazo.
The charge of his Vandals now came full upon the Herulians. The latter
did not yield, but they no longer gained a foot of ground. As two
wrestlers, with arms interlocked, each unable to move the other from
the spot, measure equal strength, the German warriors surged to and
fro. Victory hung in the balance.

"Where are the foot-soldiers?" asked Belisarius, glancing anxiously
toward the distant heights where the Numidian road extended toward
Carthage.

"I have sent out three messengers," answered Procopius. "There! The
Thracians are yielding! The Armenians are falling back! The Herulians
are now pressed by greatly superior numbers."

"Forward, Illyrians, save the battle for me. Belisarius himself will
lead you--"

And with a loud blare of trumpets, the General dashed down the hill to
the aid of the Herulians. Gelimer heard the flourish, saw the charge,
and summoned reinforcements from the rearguard.

"There," he shouted, pointing with his sword, "and join me in the
battle-song,

"Vengeance is preparing
The avenger of right."

"You here, Verus? What news do you bring? Your face is--"

"O King!" cried the priest, "what blood-guiltiness!"

"What has happened?"

"The messenger I sent to the prisoners--one of my
freedmen--misunderstood your words: 'Have them taken away, where no one
can free them.'"

"Well?"

"He has--he reported it to me, and fled when he saw my wrath."

"Well, what is it?"

"He has--killed Hilderic and Euages."

"Omniscient God!" cried the King, paling. "That was not my wish."

"But still more," Verus went on.

"Help, Gelimer!" Zazo's voice shouted from the densest ranks of the
conflict.

Belisarius and his Illyrians had now reached him. Gibamund was by his
side. Gelimer also spurred his horse.

But Verus grasped his bridle, shouting in his ear: "The letter, the
warning to Hilderic--I found it just now, wedged between two drawers in
the coffer. Here it is. Hilderic did not lie! He only wished to protect
himself against you. Innocent--he was deposed, imprisoned, slain!"

Gelimer, speechless with horror, stared for a moment into the priest's
stony face; he seemed stupefied. Then the battle-song of his men echoed
in his ears:--

"Vengeance is preparing
High in the heavens
The avenger of right!"

"Woe, woe is me! I am a criminal, a murderer," the King shrieked aloud.
The sword slipped from his grasp. He cover