ound 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 assistant 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 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 J