The fall of Neapolis had occurred a few days after the meeting at Regeta, and Totila, on his march thither, met at FormiÆ with his brother Hildebad, whom King Witichis had at once sent off with a few thousands to strengthen the garrison at Neapolis, until he himself could follow with a larger force.

As things stood at present, the brothers could do nothing but fall back upon the main army at Regeta, where Totila reported the sad events of the last few days in Neapolis.

The loss of the third city of the realm--one of the main bulwarks of Italy--changed the whole plan of the Gothic campaign.

Witichis had reviewed the troops assembled at Regeta; they amounted to about twenty thousand men. These, with the little troop brought back by Earl Teja on his own account, were, for the moment, the whole available force. Before the strong divisions which Theodahad had sent away to southern Gaul and Noricum, to Istria and Dalmatia--although they had been summoned in all haste--could return, all Italy might be lost.

Notwithstanding, the King had resolved to throw himself, with these twenty thousand, into the fortress of Neapolis, and there oppose the superior forces of the enemy, until reinforcements should arrive.

But now that the strong city had fallen into Belisarius's hand, Witichis gave up this plan. His composed courage was as far from foolhardiness as from timidity. And the King was obliged to force himself to a far more painful resolve.

While, during the days following Totila's arrival in the camp before Rome, the grief and anger of the Goths sought relief in cursing the traitor Theodahad, Belisarius, and the Italians; while the bold youth here and there began to grumble at the King's delay, who would not lead them against these degenerate Greeks, four of whom it took to stand against one Goth; while the impatience of the army already began to rebel against inactivity, the King acknowledged to himself, with a heavy heart, that it was necessary to retreat still farther, and even give up Rome.

Day by day news came of the increase of the army of Belisarius. At Neapolis alone he had gained ten thousand men--at once hostages and comrades. From all sides the Italians joined his flag; from Neapolis to Rome, no place was strong enough to oppose such a force, and the smaller towns on the coast opened their gates to the enemy with rejoicing.

The Gothic families dwelling in those parts fled to the camp of the King, and told how, the very day after the fall of Neapolis, CumÆ and Atilla had succumbed; then followed Capua, Cajeta, and even the fortified Benevento.

The vanguard of Belisarius--Huns, Saracens, and Moorish horsemen--was already stationed before FormiÆ.

The Goths expected and desired a battle before the gates of Rome. But Witichis had long since seen the impossibility, with an army of only twenty thousand men, of encountering Belisarius, who, by that time, would be able to muster a hundred thousand in the open field.

For a time he entertained the idea of being able to hold the mighty fortifications of Rome--Cethegus's proud work--against the Byzantine incursion; but he was soon obliged to renounce even this hope.

The population of Rome now counted--thanks to the Prefect--more armed and practised men than they had possessed for many a century, and the King daily convinced himself of the spirit which animated them.

Even now the Romans could scarcely restrain their hatred of the barbarians; it was not only evinced by unfriendly and mocking gestures; already the Goths dared not venture into the streets except in well-armed numbers, and every day single Gothic sentries were found dead, stabbed from behind.

Witichis could not conceal from himself that the different elements of the popular feeling were organised and guided by cunning and powerful leaders: the heads of the Roman aristocracy and the Roman clergy. He was obliged to confess that, so soon as Belisarius should appear before the walls, the Roman population would rise, and, together with the besiegers, would overcome the weak Gothic garrison.

So Witichis had unwillingly resolved to give up Rome and all central Italy; to throw himself into the strong and faithful city of Ravenna; there to complete the very incomplete armament of the troops, to unite all the Gothic forces, and then to seek the enemy with an equally powerful army.

This resolution was a great sacrifice. For Witichis had his full share of the Germanic love of fight, and it was a hard blow to his pride to retreat and seek for means of defence, instead of striking at once.

But there was still more.

It was inglorious for a king who had been raised to the throne of the cowardly Theodahad because of his known courage, to begin his rule with a shameful retreat. He had lost Neapolis during the first days of his reign; should he now voluntarily give up Rome, the city of splendours? Should he give up more than the half of Italy? And if he thus controlled his pride for the sake of his people--what would that people think of him?

These Goths, with their impetuosity, their contempt of the enemy! Could he be sure of enforcing their obedience?

For the office of a Germanic king was more to advise and propose, than to order and compel. Already many a ruler of this people had been forced against his will to engage in war and suffer defeat. He feared a similar thing.

With a heavy heart, he one night paced to and fro his tent in the camp at Regeta.

All at once hasty steps drew near, and the curtain of the tent was pulled open.

"Up! King of the Goths!" cried a passionate voice. "It is no time now to sleep!"

"I do not sleep, Teja," said Witichis; "since when art thou returned? What bringest thou?"

"I have just entered the camp; the dews of night are still upon me. First know that they are dead!"

"Who?

"The traitor and the murderess!"

"What! hast thou killed them both?"

"I kill no woman. I followed Theodahad, the traitor-king, for two days and two nights. He was on the way to Ravenna; he had a fair start. But my hatred was swifter than his cowardice. I overtook him near Narnia; twelve slaves accompanied his litter. They had no desire to die for the miserable man; they threw away their torches and fled. I tore him out of his litter, and put my own sword into his hand. But he fell upon his knees, begged for his life, and, at the same moment, aimed a treacherous stroke at me. Then I slew him like an ox at the altar; with three strokes--one for the realm, two for my parents. And I hung him up by his belt to a withered yew-tree on the high-road, a prey to the birds of the air, and a warning to the kings of the earth."

"And what became of her?"

"Her end was terrible," said Teja, shuddering. "When I first passed through Rome, nothing was known of her but that she had refused to follow the coward-king. He fled alone. Gothelindis called her Cappadocian mercenaries together, and promised them heaps of gold, if they would keep by her, go with her to Dalmatia, and occupy the fortress of Salona. The men hesitated and wished to see the gold. Then Gothelindis promised to bring it, and left them. Since then she had disappeared. When I passed through Rome the second time, she had been found----"

"Well?"

"She had ventured into the Catacombs alone, without a guide, to fetch the treasure which had been hidden there. She must have lost herself in the labyrinth; she could not find the way out. Mercenaries who were sent to seek her, found her still alive; her torch was not burnt down, but was almost entire; it must have gone out soon after she had entered the Catacombs. Madness shone from her eyes; fear of death and a long despair had overcome this bad woman; she died as soon as she was brought to the light."

"Horrible!" cried Witichis.

"A just punishment!" said Teja. "But listen!"

Before he could continue, Totila, Hildebad, Hildebrand, and several other Goths rushed into the tent.

"Does he know!" asked Totila.

"Not yet," said Teja.

"Rebellion!" cried Hildebad, "rebellion! Up, King Witichis! Defend thy crown! Off with the boy's head!"

"What has happened?" asked Witichis quietly.

"Earl Arahad of Asta, the vain fool! has rebelled. Immediately after you had been chosen King, he rode off to Florentia, where his elder brother, Guntharis, the proud Duke of Tuscany, lives and rules. There the WÖlfungs have found many adherents. Arahad called upon the Goths everywhere to protect the 'Royal Lily,' as they call her, Mataswintha, the true heir to the throne! They have proclaimed her Queen. She was in Florentia at the time, and therefore fell at once into their hands. It is not known if she be the prisoner of Guntharis or the wife of Arahad. It is only known that they have enlisted Avarian and Gepidian mercenaries, and armed all the adherents of the Amelungs and their kith and kindred, together with the numerous adherents of the WÖlfungs. Thee they call the 'Peasant-King;' they intend to take Ravenna!"

"Oh, send me to Florentia, with only three thousand," cried Hildebad angrily; "I will bring you this Queen of the Goths, together with her aristocratic lover, imprisoned in a bird-cage!"

But the others looked anxious.

"Things look bad," said Hildebrand. "Belisarius with his hundred thousands before us--at our backs the wily Rome--our main forces still fifty miles off--and now civil war and rebellion in the heart of the nation!"

But Witichis was as quiet and composed as ever.

"It is perhaps better so," he said. "We have now no choice. We must retreat."

"Retreat!" asked Hildebad angrily.

"Yes; we dare not leave an enemy at our backs. To-morrow we break up the camp and go----"

"Forward to Neapolis!" asked Hildebad.

"No. Back to Rome. And farther! To Florentia, to Ravenna! The spark of rebellion must be trampled out ere it burst into a flame."

"What? Thou wilt retreat before Belisarius?"

"Yes, to advance all the more irresistibly, Hildebad. The string of the bow is also stretched backward to hurl the deadly arrow with the greater force."

"Never," cried Hildebad; "thou canst not--thou darest not do that!"

But Witichis stepped quietly up to him and laid his hand upon his shoulder.

"I am thy King. Thou thyself hast chosen me. Loud above all the others sounded thy cry: 'Hail, King Witichis!' Thou knowest--God knows--that I did not stretch forth my hand for the crown. You yourselves have pressed it upon my brow. Take it off, if you can entrust it to me no longer. But as long as I wear it, trust me and obey. Otherwise you and I are lost!"

"Thou art right," said sturdy Hildebad, and bent his head. "Forgive me; I will make it good in the next fight."

"Up, my generals," concluded Witichis, putting on his helmet. "Thou, Totila, wilt hasten to the Frank Kings in Gaul, on an important embassy. You others hasten to your troops; break up the camp; at sunrise we march to Rome."