"All, general?" asked Martinus. "The new ones too? The pyrobalistæ, 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 noble 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?"