Temple of Saturn, they came up empty-handed. One man died after falling from his horse, the others refused to go back, fearing the curse. Gelimer had even tried to meet with the sibyl again, but they found her cave behind the temple abandoned. “I cannot lose you, too, Tzazon—”
His brother glanced at him in exasperation. “How can you trust in pagan prophecies?”
“I beg you, do not fight this battle. Go back to the stockade and guard our women and children. You’ll give them courage.”
“And look like a coward to my cavalry? Besides, it’s my death that’s foretold. Let me be the one to decide.” He drew his sword, held it on high, and wheeled his horse to face his troops, crying, “Onward!”
With a mighty roar in response, the cavalry drew their swords and followed Tzazon into battle before Gelimer had a chance to countermand the order. Crossing the stream, they charged at Belisarius’s center. On the right flank, Gelimer’s troops held back.
Euric, his next in command, rode up beside him. “My Lord,” he said. “Your men await your orders.”
Gelimer rode over to the waiting troops, then held up his sword, repeating Tzazon’s battle cry. “Onward!”
Euric raised his blade, shouting, “Hail, Gelimer!” They rode forth, bringing up the right flank as Tzazon took the center. Arrows flew toward them from the Romans, but the Vandals lifted their shields, rendering most of them useless. A few found their mark, the casualties dropping, but their ranks quickly filled, the Vandals repeating their battle cry as they drove into the ranks of Roman horsemen.
Swords clashed, the ring of steel deafening to Gelimer’s ears. A Roman horseman charged, his spear poised toward Gelimer’s chest. Gelimer parried with his shield, urged his horse around and brought his sword down, knocking the spear from his grasp. The Roman tried to draw his own blade, but Gelimer came in for the kill, driving the sharp tip beneath his armpit, knocking him from his mount. The king quickly turned, taking on a second horseman.
More Roman arrows pierced the Vandal ranks. Gelimer whirled his horse around, saw the archers riding behind the cavalry, and was about to call for his flank to work their way toward them, when suddenly Belisarius ordered the Roman Army to retreat.
The Vandals cheered, and Tzazon looked triumphant as he galloped toward Gelimer. “Cowards,” he said. “You see? We have nothing to fear.”
“Do not be so quick to judge,” Gelimer replied, surveying the battlefield.
“They have twice the number of dead.” Tzazon rode off toward his men, signaling them for their next attack.
Gelimer, unable to shake his sense of foreboding, watched Tzazon and his cavalry chase after the fleeing enemy as they tried to regroup not once but twice. The third time, the Roman horsemen ignored both the right and the left flanks, instead picking away at the center where Tzazon was fighting.
Beware the third charge . . .
“To my brother!” Gelimer cried to his men. “Protect him at all costs.”
His cavalry galloped forward, scattering Romans in every direction. The Vandal warriors were superior horsemen and unparalleled with the sword, driving the enemy back as Tzazon battled a giant of a man.
The two fought bitterly, their swords clashing. The giant thrust his blade at Tzazon but missed. He tried to right himself, but Tzazon drove his sword into his enemy’s shoulder, knocking him from his mount. As the man hit the ground, his sword fell from his grip. For the first time, Gelimer felt as though his Vandal Army had the upper hand.
Even Tzazon must have felt it. As he surveyed the battlefield, searching for the next Roman to kill, he caught sight of Gelimer. When their eyes met, Tzazon lifted his sword, crying out, “Hail to the King!”
Behind him, the giant stirred, grabbing his sword.
“Tzazon,” Gelimer shouted.
Tzazon reined his horse around. Too late. The giant’s sword arced toward him, striking his side between the plates of his armor. Tzazon faltered, his look one of surprise, as the giant thrust again, then pulled the blade from Tzazon’s ribs. Tzazon’s sword slipped from his grasp. He clutched his wound, staring at the blood. His horse, sensing the change in his master, suddenly reared, throwing him from the saddle.
“Tzazon,” Gelimer cried as his brother struggled to his feet. A new strength surged through Gelimer’s veins. He slashed at every Roman that came between them, the men falling in his wake. The giant leered when he saw Gelimer charging. He hefted the mighty blade and brought it crashing down on