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Heodoric's Tomb
Italy Under Odovacar
Roman Officials--cassiodorus
Rome And Ravenna
Storm And Stress
The Arian League
The Conquest Of Italy
The Might Of Attila
The Southward Migration
The Theodoric Of Saga
Theodoric's Ancestors
Theodoric's Boyhood


Totila again takes Rome--High-water mark of the success of the Gothic
arms--Narses, the Emperor's Chamberlain, appointed to command another
expedition for the recovery of Italy--His character--His semi-barbarous
army--Enters Italy--Battle of the Apennines--Totila slam--End of the
Gothic dominion in Italy.

Soon after the return of Belisarius to Constantinople
came the Fourth Siege of Rome. Totila, who had sought the hand of a
Frankish princess in marriage, received for answer from her father,
that the man who had not been able to keep Rome when he had taken it,
but had destroyed part and abandoned the rest to the enemy, was no King
of Italy.[156]

[Footnote 156: Procopius, De Bello Gotthico, iii., 37. This is one of
the passages which make me somewhat doubtful whether we are not too
confident in our denial of the title King of Italy to Odovacar and
Theodoric. The words are clear.]

The taunt stung Totila to the quick. We know not whether he won his
Frankish bride or no, but he was determined to win Rome. Assault again
failing, he occupied Portus and instituted a more rigorous blockade than
ever. But it had become a matter of some difficulty to starve out the
defenders of Rome, for there were practically no citizens there, only a
garrison, for whose food the corn grown within the enclosure of the
walls was nearly sufficient. The economic change from the days of the
Empire thus revealed to us is almost as great as if the harvests of Hyde
Park and Regent's Park sufficed to feed the diminished population of

There was, however, among the Imperial soldiers in the garrison of Rome,
as elsewhere, deep discontent, amounting sometimes to mutiny, at the
long withholding of their arrears of pay; and the sight of the pomp and
splendour, which surrounded the former betrayer of Rome when they rode
in the ranks with Totila, was too much for their Isaurian countrymen.
The men who kept watch by the Gate of St. Paul (close to the Pyramid of
C. Sestius, and now overlooking the English Cemetery and Keats' grave)
offered to surrender their post to the Gothic king. To distract the
attention of the garrison he sent by night a little band of soldiers on
two skiffs up the Tiber as far as they could penetrate towards the heart
of the City. These men blew a loud blast with their trumpets, and
thereby called the bulk of the defenders down to the river-walls, while
the Isaurians were opening St. Paul's Gate to the besiegers, who marched
in almost unopposed. The garrison galloped off along the road to Civita
Vecchia, and on their way fell into an ambush which Totila had prepared
for them, whereby most of them perished (549).

Totila, now a second time master of Rome, determined to hold it
securely. He restored some of the public buildings which he had
previously destroyed; he adorned and beautified the City to the utmost
of his power; he invited the Senators and their families to return; he
celebrated the equestrian games in the Circus Maximus: in all things he
behaved himself as much as possible like one of the old Emperors of

The year 550 was the high-water mark of the success of the Gothic arms.
In Italy only four cities--all on the sea-coast--were left to the
Emperor; these were Ravenna, Ancona, Otranto, and Crotona. In Sicily
most of the cities were still Imperial, but Totila had moved freely
hither and thither through the island, ravaging the villas and the
farms, collecting great stores of grain and fruit, driving off horses
and cattle, and generally visiting on the hapless Sicilians the
treachery which in his view they had shown to the Ostrogothic dynasty by
the eagerness with which, fifteen years before, they had welcomed the
arms of Belisarius.

But at the end of a long and exhausting war it is often seen that
victory rests with that power which has enough reserve force left to
make one final effort, even though that effort in the earlier years of
the war might not have been deemed a great one. So was it now with
Justinian's conquest of Italy. Though he himself was utterly weary of
the Sisyphean labour, he would not surrender a shred of his theoretical
claims, nor would he even condescend to admit to an audience the
ambassadors of Totila, who came to plead for peace and alliance between
the two hostile powers.

In his perplexity as to the further conduct of the war he offered the
command to his Grand Chamberlain Narses, who eagerly accepted it. The
choice was indeed a strange one. Narses, an Armenian by birth, brought
as an eunuch to Constantinople, and dedicated to the service of the
palace, had grown grey in that service, and was now seventy-four years
of age. But he was of Illustrious rank, he shared the most secret
counsels of the Emperor, he was able freely to unloose the purse-strings
which had been so parsimoniously closed to Belisarius, and he had set
his whole heart on succeeding where Belisarius had failed. Moreover, he
was himself both wealthy and generous, and he brought with him a huge
and motley host of barbarians, Huns, Lombards, Gepids, Herulians, all
eager to serve under the free-handed Chamberlain, and to be enriched by
him with the spoil of Italy.

In the spring of 552, the Eunuch-general, with this strange multitude
calling itself a Roman army, marched round the head of the Adriatic Gulf
and entered the impregnable seat of Empire, Ravenna. By adroit strategy
he evaded the Gothic generals who had been ordered to arrest his
progress in North-eastern Italy and--probably by about midsummer--he had
reached the point a little south-west of Ancona, where the Flaminian
Way, the great northern road from Rome, crosses the Apennines. Here on
the crest of the mountains[157] Narses encamped, and here Totila met
him, eager for the fight which was to decide the future dominion of

[Footnote 157: There is some little difference of opinion as to the site
of this battle. I place it near the Roman posting station of Ad Ensem,
represented by the modern village of Scheggia, in latitude 43 25'

A space of about twelve miles separated the hostile camps. Narses sent
some of his most trusted counsellors to warn Totila not to continue the
struggle any longer against the irresistible might of the Empire; but
if you will fight, said the messengers, name the day. Totila
indignantly spurned the proposal of surrender and named the eighth day
from thence as the day of battle. Narses, however, suspecting some
stratagem, bade his troops prepare for action, and it was well that he
did so, for on the next day Totila with all his army was at hand.

A hill, which to some extent commanded the battle-field, was the first
objective point of both generals. Narses sent fifty of his bravest men
over-night to take up their position on this hill, and the Gothic
troops, chiefly cavalry, which were sent to dislodge them, failed to
effect their purpose, the horses being frightened by the din which the
Imperial soldiers made, clashing with their spears upon their shields.
Several lives were lost on this preliminary skirmish, the honours of
which remained with the soldiers of Narses.

At dawn of day the troops were drawn up in order of battle, but Narses
had made all his arrangements on a defensive rather than an offensive
plan and Totila, who was expecting a reinforcement of two thousand
Goths under his brave young lieutenant Teias, wished to postpone the
attack. Both generals harangued their armies: Totila, in words of lordly
scorn for the patch-work host of various nationalities which Justinian,
weary of the war, had sent against him. It was the Emperor's last
effort, he declared, and when this heterogeneous army was defeated, the
brave Goths would be able to rest from their labours. Narses, on the
other hand, congratulated his soldiers on their evident superiority in
numbers to the Gothic host. They fought too, as he reminded them, for
the Roman Empire, which was in its nature, and by the will of
Providence, eternal, while these little barbarian states, Vandal,
Gothic, and the like, sprang up like mushrooms, lived their little day,
and then vanished away, leaving no trace behind them. He had recourse
also to less refined and philosophical arguments. Riding rapidly along
the ranks, the Eunuch dangled before the eyes of his barbarian
auxiliaries golden armlets, golden collars, golden bridles. These,
said he, and such other ornaments as these, shall be the reward of your
valour, if you fight well to-day.

The long morning of waiting was partly occupied by a duel between two
chosen champions. A warrior, named Cocas, who had deserted from Emperor
to King, rode up to the Imperial army, challenging their bravest to
single combat. One of Narses' lifeguards, an Armenian' like his master,
Anzalas by name, accepted the challenge. Cocas couched his spear and
rode fiercely at his foe, thinking to pierce him in the belly. Anzalas
dexterously swerved aside at the critical moment and gave a thrust with
his spear at the left side of his antagonist, who fell lifeless to the
ground. A mighty shout rose from the Imperial ranks at this propitious
omen of the coming battle. Not yet, however, was that battle to be
gained. King Totila rode forth in the open space between both armies,
that he might show the enemy what manner of man he was. His armour was
lavishly adorned with gold: from the cheek-piece of his helmet, from his
pilum and his spear hung purple pennants; his whole equipment was
magnificent and kingly. Bestriding a very tall war-horse he played the
game of a military athlete with accomplished skill. He wheeled his horse
first to the right, then to the left, in graceful curves; then he tossed
his spear on high to the morning breezes and caught it in the middle as
it descended with quivering fall; then he threw it deftly from one hand
to another, he stooped low on his horse, he raised himself up again.
Everything was done as artistically as the dance of a well-trained
performer. All this was beautiful to look at, but it was not war. The
ugly, wrinkled old Armenian in the other camp, who probably kept his
seat on horseback with difficulty, knew, one may suspect, more of the
deadly science of war than the brilliant and martial Totila.

At length the long-looked-for two thousand arrived, and Totila gave the
signal to charge upon the foe. It was the hour of the noon-tide meal,
and he hoped to catch the Imperial troops in the disorder of their
repast; but for this also Narses, the wary, had provided. Even the food
necessary to support their strength was to be taken by the soldiers, all
keeping their ranks, all armed, and all watching intently the movements
of the enemy. Narses had purposely somewhat weakened his centre in order
to strengthen his wings, which, as the Gothic cavalry charged, closed
round them and poured a deadly shower of arrows into their flanks.
Again, as in the campaigns of Belisarius, the Hippo-toxotai, the
Mounted Rifles of the Empire, decided the fate of the battle. Vain
against their murderous volleys was the valour of the Gothic horseman,
the thrust of the Gothic lance, the might of the tall Gothic steed.
Charge upon charge of the Goths was made in vain; the cavalry could
never reach the weak but distant centre of the Imperialists. At length,
when the sun was declining, the horsemen came staggering back, a
disorganised and beaten band. Their panic communicated itself to the
infantry, who were probably the weakest section of the army; the rout
was complete, and the whole of the Gothic host was seen either flying,
surrendering, or dying.

As evening fell Totila, with five of his friends hastened from the lost
battle-field. A young Gepid chief, named Asbad, ignorant who he was
couched his lance to strike Totila in the back. A young Gothic page
incautiously cried out, Dog! would you strike your lord? hereby
revealing the rank of the fugitive and, of course, only nerving the arm
of Asbad to strike a more deadly blow. Asbad was wounded in return and
his companions intent on staunching his wound let the fugitives ride on,
but the wound of Totila was mortal. His friends hurried him on, eight
miles down the valley, to the little village of Caprae, where they
alighted and strove to tend his wound. But their labour was vain; the
gallant king soon drew his last breath and was hastily buried by his
comrades in that obscure hamlet.

The Romans knew not what had become of their great foe till several days
after, when some soldiers were riding past the village, a Gothic woman
told them of the death of Totila and pointed out to them his grave. They
doubted the truth of her story, but opened the grave and gazed their
fill on that which was, past all dispute, the corpse of Totila. The news
brought joy to the heart of Narses, who returned heartiest thanks to God
and to the Virgin, his especial patroness, and then proceeded to
disembarrass himself as quickly as possible of the wild barbarians,
especially the Lombards, by whose aid he had won the victory which
destroyed the last hopes of the Ostrogothic monarchy in Italy.[158]

[Footnote 158: A gallant stand was made by Teias, who was elected king
on the death of Totila, but his reign lasted only a few months. He was
defeated and slain early in 553 at the battle of Mons Lactarius, not far
from Pompeii, and the little remnant of his followers, the last of the
Goths, marched northward out ot Italy and disappear from history.]

(568) Not thus easily, however, was the tide of barbarian invasion to be
turned. The Lombards had found their way into Italy as auxiliaries. They
returned thither sixteen years after as conquerors, conquerors the most
ruthless and brutal that Italy had yet groaned under. From that day for
thirteen centuries the unity of Italy was a dream. First the Lombard
King and the Byzantine Emperor tore her in pieces. Then the Frank
descended from the Alps to join in the fray. The German, the Saracen,
the Norman made their appearance on the scene. Not all wished to ravage
and despoil; some had high and noble purposes in their hearts, but, in
fact, they all tended to divide her. The Popes even at their best, even
while warring as Italian patriots against the foreign Emperor, still
divided their country. Last of all came the Spaniard and the Austrian,
by whom, down to our own day, Italy was looked upon as an estate, out of
which kingdoms and duchies might be carved at pleasure as appanages for
younger sons and compensations for lost provinces. Only at length,
towards the close of the nineteenth century, has Italy regained that
priceless boon of national unity, which might have been hers before it
was attained by any other country in Europe, if only the ambition of
emperors and the false sentiment of Roman patriots would have spared
the goodly tree which had been planted in Italian soil by Theodoric the

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