gorous and confident attempt at a storm. On the
eighteenth day of the siege the terrified Romans saw from their windows
the mighty armament approaching the City. A number of wooden towers as
high as the walls, mounted on wheels, and drawn by the stout oxen of
Etruria, moved menacingly forward amid the triumphant shouts of the
barbarians, each of whom had a bundle of boughs and reeds under his arm
ready to be thrown into the fosse, and so prepare a level surface upon
which the terrible engines might approach the walls. To resist this
attack Belisarius had prepared a large number of _Balistae_ (gigantic
cross-bows worked by machinery and discharging a short wedge-like bolt
with such force as to break trees or stones) had planted on the walls,
great slings, which the soldiers called Wild Asses (_Onagri_), and had
set in each gate the deadly machine known as the Wolf, and which was a
kind of double portcullis, worked both from above and from below.

But though the Gothic host was approaching with its threatening towers
close to the walls, Belisarius would not give the signal, and not a
_Balista_, nor a Wild Ass was allowed to hurl its missiles against the
foe. He only laughed aloud, and bade the soldiers do nothing till he
gave the word of command. To the citizens this seemed an evil jest, and
they grumbled aloud at the impudence of the general who chose this
moment of terrible suspense for merriment. But now when the Goths were
close to the fosse, Belisarius lifted his bow, singled out a mail-clad
chief, and sent an arrow through his neck, inflicting a deadly wound. A
great shout of triumph rose from the Imperial soldiers as the proudly
accoutred barbarian rolled in the dust. Another shot, another Gothic
chief slain, and again a shout of triumph. Then the signal to shoot was
given to the soldiers, and hundreds of bolts from Wild Ass and _Balista_
were hurtling through the air, aimed not at Gothic soldiers, but at the
luckless oxen that drew the ponderous towers. The beasts being slain, it
was impossible for the Goths who were immediately under the walls and
exposed to a deadly discharge of arrows from the battlements, to move
their towers either backward or forward, and there they remained mere
laughing-stocks in their huge immobility, till the end of the day, when
they with all the rest of the Gothic enginery were given as a prey to
the flames. Then men understood the meaning of the laughter of
Belisarius as he watched the