Many lay more dead than alive on the towers and ramparts of the
walls and there expired. When the gates were torn down, the remainder
faced the conquerors in a body. And there they fell, every man of them
facing the enemy with all his wounds in front. Even as they died they
took care to make an honourable end.
When the city was taken, Vitellius left the Palace by a back way and
was carried in a litter to his wife's house on the Aventine. If he
could lie hid during the day, he hoped to make his escape to his
brother and the Guards at Tarracina. But it is in the very nature of
terror that, while any course looks dangerous, the present state of
things seems worst of all. His fickle determination soon changed and
he returned to the vast, deserted Palace, whence even the lowest of
his menials had fled, or at least avoided meeting him. Shuddering at
the solitude and hushed silence of the place, he wandered about,
trying closed doors, terrified to find the rooms empty; until at last,
wearied with his miserable search, he crept into some shameful
hiding-place. There Julius Placidus, an officer of the Guards, found
him and dragged him out. His hands were tied behind his back, his
clothes were torn, and thus he was led forth--a loathly spectacle at
which many hurled insults and no one shed a single tear of pity. The
ignominy of his end killed all compassion. On the way a soldier of the
German army either aimed an angry blow at him, or tried to put him
out of his shame, or meant, perhaps, to strike the officer in command;
at any rate, he cut off the officer's ear and was immediately stabbed.
Pages:
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321