us," begged Totila; "save Valeria! Take her to
Teja at the sarcophagus."

"I will make all speed, my friend! Farewell till we meet again!" And
Julius once more pressed Totila's hand. Then he mounted Pluto--he chose
the wounded horse, leaving his own, which was unhurt.

Unseen by Totila, he set the helmet with its silver swan upon his head,
folded the white mantle around him, and galloped out of the wood
towards the cloister hill.

"This road," he thought, "is open and undefended, while the road which
the King will take to the Spes Bonorum leads through wood and vineyard.
Perhaps I shall succeed in attracting the pursuers away from him."

And, in fact, he had no sooner issued from beneath the trees, and begun
to ride up the hill, than he saw that the horsemen who had come from
beyond Taginae were eagerly following him.

In order to keep the pursuers away from the King, and from discovering
their error, he urged his horse to its full speed.

But the animal was wounded, and the way was very steep. Nearer and
nearer came the pursuers.

"Is it he?"

"Yes, it is he."

"No, it is not. He is too short," said the leader of the troop, who
rode foremost.

"Would he fly alone?"

"That would be the best way to escape," observed the leader.

"It is he most surely; I see the silver swan on his helmet!"

"And the white mantle!"

"But he rode a white horse," said the leader.

"Yes, at first," said one of the horsemen; "but when it fell, struck by
my spear, they lifted him--I was close by--upon that charger."

"Enough," said the leader, "you are right. I recognise the horse."

"A noble animal! How it keeps on, and up hill, too, although wounded."

"Yes, he is a noble animal! And I will make him stop. Pay attention!
Halt, Pluto!" he shouted. "On your knees!"

Snorting and trembling, the clever, obedient animal, in spite of spur
and blows, stood stockstill, and slowly bent its fore-legs in the sand.

"It is ruin, barbarian, to ride the Prefect's horse! There, take that
for the Forum! and that for the Capitol! and that for Julius!"

And the Prefect--for he it was--furiously hurled three spears one after
the other, his own and two carried by Syphax, at the back of his
victim, and with such force that they passed completely through the
fugitive's body.

Then Cethegus sprang from his horse, drew his sword, and taking the
fallen man by the back of his helmet, dragged up his head from the
earth.

"Julius!" he scream