aged matters as well as it is possible to do in dealing with the
impossible. He divided us into three bodies: first, the Armenians, then
the Thracians, lastly, the Herulians. The Huns--whose horses can do
much, but cannot climb like goats--remained below before our camp. In
bands of two hundred strong we rushed in a long line of two men abreast
up the only accessible path. I will make the story short. The Moors
rolled rocks, the Vandals hurled spears, at us. Twenty Armenians fell
without having even seen the crest of a foeman's helmet; the others
drew back. The Thracians, despising death, took their places. They
advanced probably a hundred feet higher; by that time they had lost
thirty-five of their number, had not seen an enemy, and also turned
back. "Cowardice," cried Fara. "It is impossible," replied Arzen, the
severely wounded leader of the Armenians,--a Vandal spear with the
house-mark of the Asdings, a flying arrow, had pierced his thigh.

"I don't believe it," shouted Fara, "follow me, my Herulians."

They followed him. So did I; but very near the last of the line. For,
as the legal councillor of Belisarius, I do not consider myself under
obligation to perform any deeds of special heroism. Only when he
himself fights do I often foolishly imagine that my place is by his
side.

I have never seen such a storm. Fragments of boulders and lances
hurled by invisible hands crushed and spitted the men. But those who
were left climbed, leaped, crept higher and higher. The top of the
mountain--which neither of the two former scaling parties had
approached--was gained. The hiding-places of many of the Moors
concealed under the cliffs of the central portion were discovered, and
numbers of these lean brown fellows paid for their loyal hospitality to
the fugitives with their lives; I saw Fara himself kill three of them.
He was just ranging his breathless band, and on the point of giving the
order to rush up to the narrow gateway in the rocks that yawns in the
mountain summit, when from this gateway burst the Vandals, the King in
advance; the crown on his helmet betrayed him. I saw him very close at
hand, and never shall I forget that face. He looked like a rapturous
monk, and yet also like the hero Zazo, whom I saw fall before
Belisarius. Behind him was a youth who strongly resembled him. The
scarlet banner, I believe, was borne by a woman. Yet I am probably
mistaken; for the whole charge fell upon us with the speed and might