Opposite to the side facing the sea, rose, at the summit of five steps, a stately structure, the throne of Genseric. The steps were very broad; they were intended to accommodate the King's enormous train, the Palatines and Gardings, the leaders of the thousands and hundreds, stationed according to their rank and the ruler's favor. In their rich fantastic costumes and armor, a combination of German and Roman taste, they often gathered closely around the sovereign and stood crowding together; the scarlet silk Vandal banners fluttered above them, and a golden dragon swung by a rope from the tent-like canopy of the lofty purple throne. When from this throne, at whose feet, as a symbolical tribute from conquered Moorish princes, lion and tiger skins lay piled a foot high, the mighty sea-king arose, swinging around his head with angry, threatening words the seven-lashed scourge (a gift from his friend Attila), many an envoy of the Emperor forgot the arrogant speech he had prepared. The wonderful splendor of this hall fairly bewildered the eye; but its richest ornament was the countless number of weapons of every variety, and of every nation, principally German, Roman, and Moorish; but also from all the other coasts and islands which the sea-king's corsair ships could visit. They covered all the pillars and walls; nay, the shields and breastplates were even spread over the entire ceiling. A strange, dazzling light now poured over all this bronze, silver, and gold, as the slanting rays of the setting sun streamed from the northwest into the hall. A broad white marble table was completely covered with parchment and papyrus rolls, containing lists of the bodies of troops, by thousands and hundreds, drawings of ships, maps of the Vandal kingdom, charts of the Bay of Gades and the Tyrrhenian Sea. "You have accomplished more than the possible during the weeks I have been in the west, trying to bring the Vandals thence to Carthage," said the King, laying down a wax tablet on which he had been computing figures. "True, we are far, far from possessing the numbers or the strength of the ships which formerly bore 'the terror of the Vandals' to every shore. But these hundred and fifty will be amply sufficient, and more than sufficient, to defend our own coast and to prevent a landing, if behind the fleet there stands a body of foot soldiers on the shore." "No, do not sigh, my Gibamund," cried Zazo. "Our brother knows it is no fault of yours that the army is not--cannot accomplish what--" "Oh," exclaimed Gibamund, wrathfully, "it is all in vain! No matter what I do, they will not drill. They want to drink and bathe and carouse and ride and see the games in the Circus, indulge in everything that consumes a man's marrow in that accursed grove of Venus." "But that abomination ended yesterday," said the King.