like a moving wall of bronze, their long lances
levelled. Zazo saw that his men hesitated. "Forward! Cross the stream!
On to the attack!"

He dashed on in advance of his troops. But he soon perceived that only
a very few--the Gundings and their boar-helmeted kinsmen--were
following. "Forward!" he commanded again. But the Vandals delayed. They
felt that the rush down from the height had made their success far
easier; they did not wish to leave the vantage-ground, and--they had
seen Belisarius in the distance. The ranks of levelled lances,
terrible, threatening, drew nearer and nearer.

"If we only had our spears!" cried voices in the ranks behind him. The
Byzantines had already reached the stream; now they were wading through
the marshy rivulet,--yet the Vandals on the heights did not obey the
command to charge.

"You _will_ not cross?" cried Zazo, furiously. "Then you _must_!" With
these words he tore Genseric's dragon banner from the hand of the
horseman at his right and shouting: "Bring back the standard and your
honor!" he hurled it with all his strength across the stream into the
midst of the Byzantines. Loud cries rose from friends and enemies.

One of the Byzantines instantly snatched the banner from the ground,
raised it aloft, and was hurrying with it to Belisarius. But he did not
go far. For when they saw the treasure of the kingdom in the hands of
the foe, all the Vandals, on horseback and on foot, following their
nobles, rushed down the slope into the stream and the midst of
the enemy. By Zazo's side, on a powerful stallion, rode a strange
figure,--a monk without helmet, shield, or breastplate; he wore a gray
cowl and carried a sword. Breaking a passage through the hostile ranks,
he reached the captor of the scarlet banner, tore it from his hand,
and, with a single sword-stroke, cleft helmet and skull. It was
Valerianus, the commander of the lance-bearers.

The victor swung the rescued standard high aloft, and instantly fell
from his horse, pierced by five lances. But Gundobad, the Gunding,
raised the banner from the hand of the sinking figure.

"Here, to the rescue," he shouted, "kinsmen of the Gundings! Here, you
boars!"

Immediately his brother and the whole troop of boar helms gathered
around him; the banner and its bearer were cut out for the moment. The
ranks of the foe nearest to the Vandal banner wavered, yielded.

"Victory!" shouted the Vandals, pressing boldly forward, singing,--