"Under the still tottering ruins, these Goths! Truly," cried Procopius--
"'Si fractus illabatur orbis,
Impavidos ferient ruinæ!'
They are courageous men!"
But now Belisarius was at hand with his compact lines, ready for the assault.
One moment more--the leaders were still hurrying to and fro, giving orders--and a terrible slaughter would begin.
But suddenly all the sky above the city was flooded with a red light.
A column of flame shot up into the air, and countless sparks descended. It seemed to rain fire from heaven. All Ravenna glowed in the crimson light. It was a fearful but beautiful spectacle.
Both armies, ready to mingle in a hand-to-hand combat, halted and hesitated.
"Fire! fire! Witichis, King Witichis!" shouted a horseman, who came galloping from the city; "it burns!"
"We see it. Let it burn, Markja! First fight and then extinguish."