"Aim at the King!" he cried to his men. "All spears at the King! There he is, the white one! With the swan on his helmet! Down with him!" A hail of spears whistled through the air. In a moment the King's shield bristled with darts. By this time the Corsican had recognised the tall and glittering figure in the distance. "It is he! I will have his heart's blood!" And he forced his way through his own and Isdigerd's men. The two enraged adversaries were now separated only by a few feet. But Totila had turned against Isdigerd. Pierced in the neck by the King's spear, the chief fell dead to the ground. And now Totila and Furius met. The Corsican aimed his spear full at the King's unprotected face. But suddenly the glittering helmet and the white mantle had disappeared. Two spears had struck the white horse, and at the same time a third pierced the King's shield and wounded his left arm severely. Horse and man fell. Isdigerd's Persians raised a wild cry of exultation and pressed forward. Furius and Alboin spurred their horses. "Spare the King's life! take him prisoner! He spared me!" cried Alboin. For he had been greatly touched when Gisulf told him that he distinctly saw the King change the point of his spear for the shaft. "No! Down with Totila!" cried Furius. And he hurled his spear at the wounded man, whom Aligern was trying to lift upon the Prefect's horse and lead out of the fight. Julius caught the Corsican's first spear upon Teja's proven shield. Furius called for a second, and aimed at the press around the King; Phaza, the Armenian, tried to parry the stroke and received the spear in his heart. Then Furius, who had now spurred close up, raised his long and crooked scimetar against the King. But before the stroke could fall the Corsican fell backwards from his saddle. The young Duke of Apulia had thrust the staff of his banner with such force against Ahalla's breast that the wood was shattered. And now Totila's banner--the costly work of Valeria and her women--was in the greatest danger in Adalgoth's hands. For all the enemy's horse pressed upon the bold young standard-bearer; a stroke of Gisulf's axe struck the staff and broke it again--Adalgoth tore off the silken flag and tucked it into his sword-belt. Alboin had now come up, and cried: "Yield, thou King of the Goths--to me, a King's son!" Aligern had just succeeded in lifting the King on to the Prefect's horse; he turned to the Longobardian, who, wishing to stay the King's flight but to save his life, aimed a stroke at the latter's horse with his spear. But the next moment Aligern had cleft Alboin's vulture-winged helmet, and, stunned, the latter wavered in his saddle. Thus, the leaders of their enemies being for the moment repulsed, Adalgoth, Aligern, and Julius had time to lead the King out of the tumult as far as the northern gate of Taginæ. From this place the King would have conducted the battle, but he could scarcely hold himself upright in his saddle.