"That fellow rides to the battle-field adorned like a bridegroom! What costly armour! We do not see the like at home, Gisulf. And not to dare to attack! Does Narses again sleep?" CHAPTER XVIII. At last a Persian horseman, making his way through the ranks of the Goths, galloped up to the King, gave a message, and galloped back again at full speed. "At last!" cried Totila. "Now enough of sport! Brave Alboin, son of Audoin," he loudly cried across to the enemy's ranks, "wilt thou really fight for the Greeks against us? Then come on, O King's son--it is a King who calls thee?" Alboin could no longer restrain his impatience. "Mine must he be with armour and horse!" he shouted, and spurred forward with his lance couched. Totila, with a gentle pressure of his thigh, brought his horse to a sudden standstill. It seemed that he intended to stand the shock. Alboin came on at a furious gallop. Another slight pressure of Totila's thigh, a clever spring to one side, and the Longobardian, who could not check his horse, rushed far past his adversary. But the next moment Totila was at Alboin's back; he could easily have bored him through with his spear. The Longobardians, seeing the danger of their chief, uttered loud cries and hurried to his assistance. But Totila whirled his lance round, and contented himself with giving his adversary such a thrust in the left side with the shaft end, that Alboin fell headlong out of his saddle on the right side of his horse. Totila quietly rode back to his troop, waving his spear over his head in triumph. Alboin had remounted, and now led his troop against the thin ranks of the Goths. But just before the shock of meeting, the King cried, "Fly! fly into the town!" turned his horse's head, and galloped away towards Capræ. His horsemen followed him. For one moment Alboin halted in perplexity. But the next he cried: "It is nothing else; it is a pure flight! There they run into the gate! Yes, feats of horsemanship are one thing, and fighting is another. After them, my wolves! into the town!" And the Longobardians galloped forwards to Capræ, burst open the northern gate--which had been closed, but not bolted, by the flying Goths--and rushed through the long street towards the southern gate, through which the last Goth was just disappearing. Narses had till now stood upright in his litter with difficulty, observing all that passed. "Halt!" he angrily cried. "Halt! Blow the trumpets! Sound the retreat! It is the most clumsy trap in the world! But this Alboin thinks that if any one runs away from him, it must be in earnest!" But the trumpeters blew in vain. The cries of victory uttered by the pursuing Longobardians, drowned the blast of the trumpets; or those that heard it disregarded it. Narses groaned as he saw the last ranks of the Longobardians disappear into the Gate of Capræ.