well-known
flags and the thickly-crowded spears of the Isaurians had disappeared
from the outer wall of the Mausoleum.

He observed the place attentively. The Isaurians could not have been
relieved, for the gaps were not filled up.

Then he sprang from his saddle, gave his horse a stroke with the flat
of his hand, and cried, "Home, Boreas!"

The clever animal galloped straight back to the camp.

"Now forward, my Goths! forward, Earl Markja!" cried the King. "Over
the river there! Leave the wall-breakers behind: take only shields and
storming-ladders, and the axes. Forward!"

And at a run he reached the steep bank at the southern bend of the
river, and descended the hill.

"No bridge. King, and no ford!" asked a Goth behind him.

"No, friend Iffamer; we must swim!"

And the King sprang into the dirty yellow water, which splashed,
hissing, high above his helmet.

In a few moments he had reached the opposite bank, the foremost of his
people with him.

Soon they stood close before the lofty outer wall of the Mausoleum, and
the warriors looked up inquiringly and anxiously.

"Bring the ladders!" cried Witichis. "Do you not see? There are no
defenders! Are you afraid of mere stones?"

The ladders were quickly raised, and the outer wall scaled. The few
soldiers who had remained to defend this wall were overcome, the
ladders drawn up and let down on the inner side.

The King was the first in the court.

There, it is true, the progress of the Goths was for a time arrested.

For Quintus Piso and Kallistratos stood on the ramparts of the inner
wall, with a hundred legionaries and a few Isaurians. They had hastened
thither from the Pancratian Gate. They hurled a thick hail of spears
and arrows at the Goths as they descended singly into the court. Their
catapults were also not without effect.

"Send for assistance to Cethegus!" cried Piso, on the wall; and
Kallistratos immediately rushed away.

Below in the court the Goths fell right and left at the side of
Witichis.

"What shall we do?" asked Markja.

"Wait until they have exhausted their projectiles. It cannot last much
longer. They shoot and hurl too hastily in their fright. Do you see?
Already more stones are flying than arrows, and there are no more
spears."

"But their balistas?"

"They will presently be able to hurt us no longer. Prepare to storm!
See, the hail is much thinner; now be ready with the ladders and axes.
Follow me quickly!"

And the