Volume Ii Part 13 (1/2)
”Now that the bold boy has s.h.i.+ps of war, he will become unbearable!
There must be an end to this.”
He pressed his helmet upon his majestic head.
”I would willingly have spared the city and the Roman inhabitants; but I can wait no longer. Procopius, go and summon the generals; Magnus, Demetrius and Constantinus, Bessas and Ennes, and Martinus, the master of artillery; I will give them enough to do. The barbarians shall not rejoice in their victory; they shall learn to know Belisarius.”
Shortly there appeared in the tent of the commander a man who, in spite of the breast-plate which he wore, had more the air of a scholar than of a warrior.
Martinus, the great mathematician, was of a gentle, peaceful nature, which had long found its sole happiness in the quiet study of Euclid.
He could not bear to see blood flow, and was even sorry to pluck a flower. But his mathematical and mechanical studies had one day accidentally led him to invent a new projectile of fearful power. He showed the plan to Belisarius, and he, delighted, would not let him alone, but dragged him before the Emperor, and obliged him to become ”master of artillery to the _magister militum_, for the East”--namely, the a.s.sistant of Belisarius himself. He received a splendid salary, and was obliged by contract to invent one new machine of war yearly.
Then the gentle mathematician, with many sighs, invented those terrible tools of destruction which overthrew the walls of fortresses, shattered the gates of castles, hurled inextinguishable fire into the towns of Justinian's enemies, and destroyed human lives by thousands.
Every year Martinus delighted in the mathematical problems which he set himself to do; but as soon as the riddle was solved and the work completed, he thought with horror of the effects of his inventions.
Therefore he now appeared before Belisarius with a sorrowful countenance.
”Martinus! circle-turner!” cried Belisarius as he entered, ”now show your art! How many catapults, balistae, and sling-machines have we in all?”
”Three hundred and fifty, general.”
”'Tis well! Divide them along our whole line of siege. In the north, before the Porta Capuana and the castle, set the rams against the walls; down they must come, were they made of diamonds! From the central camp direct the projectiles in a curve, so that they may fall into the streets of the city. Make every effort; do not cease a moment for twenty-four hours; let the troops relieve each other; let all the machines play!”
”All, general?” asked Martinus. ”The new ones too? The pyrobalistae, the hot projectiles?”
”Those too; those most of all!”
”General, they are horrible! You do not yet know their effect.”
”Well, I shall now see what it is, and put them to the proof.”
”Upon this splendid city? On the Emperor's city? Will you win for Justinian a heap of ashes?”
Belisarius had a great and n.o.ble soul. He was angry with himself, with Martinus, and with the Goths.
”Can I do otherwise?” he asked impatiently. ”These stiff-necked Goths, this foolhardy Totila, force me to it. Five times have I offered capitulation. It is madness! Not three thousand men stand behind these walls! By the head of Justinian! why do not the fifty thousand Neapolitans rise and disarm the barbarians?”
”No doubt they fear your Huns more than their Goths,” observed Procopius.
”They are bad patriots! Forward, Martinus! In an hour Neapolis must burn!”
”In a shorter time,” sighed the mathematician, ”if it must be so. I have brought with me a man who is well-informed; who can help us much, and simplify the work. He is a living plan of the city. May I bring him in?”
Belisarius nodded, and the sentry called in a little Jewish-looking man.
”Ah! Jochem, the architect!” said Belisarius. ”I knew you at Byzantium.
You were to rebuild the church of St. Sophia. What became of that project?”
”By your leave, general, nothing.”