Meantime the Persians, laughing at the efforts of the besiegers, were singing on the battlements songs in glory of King Sapor, "Son of the Sun." And from the precipitous terraces they shouted to the Romans:
"Julian will scale the heavenly palace of Ormuzd before he gets into our fortress!"
When the fire of action had risen to its hottest, the Emperor, in a low voice, sent word to his officers on the far side of the city.
The legionaries hidden in the tunnel burst out into the interior of the city, and found themselves in the cellar of a house where an old Persian woman was kneading bread. She uttered a piercing cry at the sight of the Roman legionaries, and was promptly killed. Then, gliding unperceived, they threw themselves on the rear of the besieged. The Persians flung down their arms, and scattered into the streets. The Romans then rushed to the city gates, and by the double assault the town was taken. From that moment not a legionary doubted that the Emperor, like Alexander of Macedon, would conquer the whole of the Persian Empire as far as the Indies.
Leaving its larger ships behind on the Euphrates, the army now drew near to Ctesiphon, on the river Tigris. But Julian, whose almost unnaturally feverish imagination gave his enemies no time to recover, made practicable the old Roman canal, hollowed by Trajan and Septimius Severus between the Tigris and the Euphrates; the same channel that had been filled in and flooded by the Persians. By this means the whole fleet left the Euphrates and reached the Tigris a little above Ctesiphon. The conqueror found himself thus at the centre of the Asiatic Empire.
On the following day Julian summoned a council of war and declared that the troops should be transported that night to the other bank, under the walls of the capital. Dagalaïf, Hormizdas, Secundinus, Victor, Sallustius, all seasoned warriors, were terrified at this idea. For hours they strove to persuade the Emperor to relinquish so rash a project, urging the fatigue of the soldiers, the width and rapid currents of the river, the steepness of the banks, the proximity of Ctesiphon, and the innumerable army of Sapor; the Persians being certain to make a sortie at the moment of disembarkation. Julian would listen to nothing.
"Wait as long as we will," he exclaimed impatiently, "the river will not grow narrower nor the banks less steep; and the Persian army will get bigger every day we delay. If I had listened to your advice, we should still be at Antioch."
The chiefs left his tent in consternation.
"He cannot last long in this mood," murmured the well-tried and wily Dagalaïf, a Goth grown old in the service of Rome. "Remember what I tell you. He seems gay, and even laughs, but there is something ill in his expression. I've seen it in people who are close to despair or death. That gaiety augurs evil."
The warm misty twilight descended rapidly on the immense river-reaches. At a given signal five galleys bearing four hundred warriors, were unlashed from their moorings, and for long nothing was heard but the regular dip of their muffled oars. Then, silence. The obscurity became impenetrable. Julian gazed fixedly in the direction in which the boats had disappeared, concealing his emotion under affected cheerfulness. The generals muttered among themselves. Suddenly a blaze lit up the night. Everyone drew his breath, and all looks were turned on the Emperor. He understood what that blaze meant. The Persians had succeeded in setting light to the Roman ships, by means of fire-balls hurled from engines on the other bank.