"Oh!" he sighed; "those blockheads oblige me to commit a folly with open eyes. I cannot let them suffer for their stupidity as they deserve. I still need them. Therefore, forward, in the name of nonsense! Before we can overtake them, they may be already half destroyed! Forward, Cethegus, Anzalas, and Liberius! Take the Isaurians, Armenians, and Illyrians, and get into Capræ. But reflect that the town _cannot_ be empty. It is a snare, into which we follow those blind bulls with open eyes. I will come after in my litter; but I can stand no more." And he sank back into his seat, terribly fatigued. A slight convulsion, such as he often experienced when excited, shook his frame. The footmen of Cethegus and Liberius advanced towards the town at a rapid march, the two leaders riding in front. Meanwhile pursued and pursuers had rushed through the little town, and the last Longobardians had passed Capræ, while the first, with Alboin, had reached that part of the Flaminian Way where the two hills bounded and confined the road on the right and left. The King galloped forward another horse's length; then he halted, turned, and gave a sign. Adalgoth, who rode at his side, blew his horn, and out of the northern gate of Taginæ issued Thorismuth and his spear-bearers, while from the double ambush on the hills the Persian horsemen of the Corsican burst out with a yell and a blast of cornets. "Now wheel about, my Goths! Forward to the charge! Woe to the befooled!" cried Totila. Alboin looked helplessly round. "We have never before trotted into anything so evil, my wolves!" he said. He would have retreated, but now Gothic footmen issued likewise from the southern gate of Capræ, blocking the way back. "There is nothing for it but to die merrily, Gisulf! Greet Rosimunda, if thou escapest!" And he turned to meet one of the leaders of the Persian horsemen, who, distinguished by a richly-gilded open helm, had now reached the road, and was advancing straight upon him. As he came up to Alboin, he of the gilded helmet cried: "Turn, Longobardian! yonder stands our common foe! _Down with the Goths!_" And he ran his sword through a Gothic horseman who was aiming a stroke at Alboin. And now the Persian horsemen, galloping past the Longobardians, attacked the horrified Goths. For a moment the latter halted, taken by surprise. But when they saw that it was no mistake--that the ambush was against _them_, and not against the Longobardians--they cried, "Treachery, treachery! all is lost!" and, this time in unfeigned flight, rushed back to Taginæ, carrying everything along with them, even their own footmen, who were just issuing from the gate. Even the King changed countenance when he saw the Corsican strike at the Goths at Alboin's side. "Yes, it is treachery!" he cried. "Ha! the tiger! Down with him!" And he rushed at the Corsican. But before he could reach him, Isdigerd the Persian had stormed into the road from the left between the King and Furius.