"Then I turned," added Hildebad, "and cried: 'We shall meet again before Rome!' Up, King Witichis! to arms! Thou hast done thine utmost for peace, and hast only reaped humiliation. Up, then! Long enough hast thou lingered and prepared; lead us now to battle!" Just then a flourish of trumpets was heard in the camp, followed by the sound of the hoof-beats of approaching horses. Presently the curtain of the tent was lifted, and Totila entered in his shining armour, his white mantle floating round him. "Hail, my King and my Queen!" he said, bowing, "My mission is fulfilled, I bring you the friendly greeting of the Frank King. He had an army ready for the service of Byzantium, and prepared to attack thee. I succeeded in changing his intentions. His army will not enter Italy against the Goths. Duke Markja of Mediolanum, who, until now, has defended the Cottian Alps against the Franks, is therefore free. He follows me in haste with all his thousands. On my way hither I gathered together whatever men I found capable of bearing arms, and also the garrisons of the fortresses. Further: until now we were short of cavalry. Be comforted, my King! I bring thee six thousand horsemen, splendidly mounted. They long to caper upon the plains of Rome. _One_ wish alone dwells in all our hearts: lead us to battle, to Rome!" "Thanks, my friend, to thee and to thy horsemen! Speak, Hildebrand, how is the army now divided? Tell me, generals, how many men does each one of you command? Notaries, write the numbers down." "I command three thousand foot-soldiers," cried Hildebad. "And I forty thousand foot and horse with shield and spear," said Duke Guntharis. "I lead forty thousand foot: archers, slingers, and spear-bearers," said Earl Grippa of Ravenna. "I seven thousand with knives and clubs," counted Hildebrand. "Then come Totila's six thousand horse, and fourteen selected thousands led by Teja, with battle-axes--where is he? I miss him here--and I have raised the number of my troops, foot and horse, to fifty thousand," concluded the King. "Altogether that makes a hundred and sixty thousand," said the protonotary, writing down the numbers, and handing the parchment to the King. A ray of warlike joy and exultation spread over the face of Witichis. "A hundred and sixty thousand Gothic warriors! Belisarius, shall they lay down their arms before thee without a struggle?--What repose do you need before the march?" Just then Teja hurried into the tent. As he entered he caught the last question. His eyes flashed; he trembled with rage. "Repose? not an hour longer; up! revenge, King Witichis! a monstrous crime has been committed, which cries to Heaven for vengeance. Lead us at once to battle!" "What has happened?"