nst Duke Guntharis or
Ravenna--always hoping for a peaceable solution of the difficulty--he
decided to play these bold skirmishers a famous trick.

Spies had related that, on the day after Rauthgundis's arrival in the
camp, the new Byzantine garrison of Castellum Marcianum had dared to
threaten Caesena itself, the important town in the rear of the Gothic
camp.

The old master-at-arms furiously swore destruction to the insolent
enemy. He put himself at the head of a thousand horsemen, and started
in the stillness of the night, with straw twisted round the hoofs of
the horses, in the direction of Caesena.

The surprise succeeded perfectly. Unobserved they entered the wood at
the foot of the rock upon which the castle was situated.

Hildebrand divided his men into two parties, one of which he ordered to
surround the wood on all sides; the other to dismount and follow him
silently up to the castle.

The sentinels at the gate were taken by surprise, and the Byzantines,
finding that they were attacked by superior numbers, fled on all sides
into the wood, where the greater part of those on horseback were taken
prisoners.

The flames from the burning castle illuminated the scene.

But a small group retreated, fighting, over the little river at the
foot of the rock, which was crossed by a narrow bridge.

Here Hildebrand's pursuing horsemen were checked by a single man--a
leader, as it seemed from the splendour of his armour.

This tall, slender, and seemingly young man--his visor was
down--fought as if in desperation, covered the retreat of his men, and
had already overthrown four Goths.

Then up came the old master-at-arms, and looked on for a while at the
unequal combat.

"Yield, brave man!" he cried to the lonely combatant. "I will guarantee
thy life."

At this call the Byzantine started; for an instant he lowered his
sword, and looked at the old man.

But the next moment he had leaped forward and back again; he had cut
off the arm of his nearest adversary at one powerful stroke.

The Goths fell back a little.

Hildebrand became furious.

"Forward!" he cried. "No more pity! Aim at him with your spears!"

"He is proof against iron!" cried one of the Goths, a cousin of Teja.
"I hit him three times; he cannot be wounded."

"Thinkest thou so, Aligern?" laughed the old man grimly. "Let me see if
he be proof against stone."

And he hurled his stone battle-axe--he was almost the only one who
still carried t