chosen at will by the Gothic host, mere kings of the battlefield,
had risen and perished; reduced to a wandering tribe, the nation
which alone of her invaders had given peace and hope to Italy, which
alone had reverenced and upheld the laws, polity, culture of Rome,
would soon, it was thought, be utterly destroyed, or vanish in
flight beyond the Alps. Yet war did not come to an end. In the plain
of the great river there was once more a chieftain whom the Goths
had raised upon their shields, a king, men said, glorious in youth
and strength, and able, even yet, to worst the Emperor's generals.
His fame increased. Ere long he was known to be moving southward, to
have crossed the Apennines, to have won a battle in Etruria. The
name of this young hero was Totila.

In these days the senators of Rome, heirs to a title whose ancient
power and dignity were half-forgotten, abode within the City, under
constraint disguised as honour, the conqueror's hostages. One among
them, of noblest name, Flavius Anicius Maximus, broken in health by
the troubles of the time and by private sorrow, languishing all but
unto death in the heavy air of the Tiber, was permitted to seek
relief in a visit to which he would of his domains in Italy. His
birth, his repute, gave warrant of loyalty to the empire, and his
coffers furnished the price put upon such a favour by Byzantine
greed. Maximus chose for refuge his villa by the Campanian shore,
vast, beautiful, half in ruin, which had been enjoyed by generations
of the Anician family; situated above the little town of Surrentum
it caught the cooler breeze, and on its mountainous promontory lay
apart from the tramp of armies. Here, as summer burned into autumn,
the sick man lived in brooding silence, feeling his strength waste,
and holding to the world only by one desire.