ea, they would force the sailors to make off with sails and oars
as fast as possible. They could not fight Germans, waves, and wind, all
at the same time, upon rocking ships, and it was not in their contract
for military service. Belisarius, however, feels most disturbed by his
uncertainty concerning the plans of the enemy. Where is this
universally dreaded fleet hiding? It is becoming mysterious now that we
see and hear nothing of it. Is it lying concealed behind one of the
neighboring islands? Or is it lurking, on the watch for us, upon the
coast of Africa? Where and when shall we land?

I said yesterday that he ought to have considered this somewhat
earlier. But he muttered something in his beard, and begged me to atone
for his errors to the best of my ability. I must go to Syracuse and, on
the pretext of buying provisions from your Ostrogoth Counts, inquire
everything about these Vandals, of whom he is ignorant and yet ought to
know. So I have been here in Syracuse since yesterday, asking everybody
about the Vandals, and they all laugh at me, saying: "Why, if
Belisarius does not know, how should we? We are not at war with them."
It seems to me that the insolent fellows are right.

CHAPTER II

Triumph, O Cethegus! Belisarius's former good fortune is fluttering
over the pennons at our mast-heads: the gods themselves are blinding
the Vandals; they are depriving them of their reason, consequently they
must desire their destruction. Hermes is breaking the path for us,
removing danger and obstacles from our way.

The Vandal fleet, the bugbear of our valiant warriors, is floating
harmless away from Carthage toward the north; while we, with all sails
set--the east wind is filling them merrily--are flying from Sicily over
the blue flood westward to Carthage. We cut the rippling waves as if on
a festal excursion. No foe, no spy, far or near, to oppose us or give
warning of our approach to the threatened Vandals, on whom we shall
fall like a meteor crashing from a clear sky.

That all this has come to the General's knowledge, and that he can make
instant use of it, is due to Procopius, or--to speak more honestly--to
blind chance, the capricious goddess Tyche. It seems to me, though I am
no philosopher, that she rather than Nemesis guides the destinies of
nations.

I wrote last that I was running about the streets of Syracuse, somewhat
helplessly, not without being laughed at by the mock