At high summertide, the Gothic camp was pitched before Rome, and the siege anticipated for so many months had at length begun.  For whatever reason, Totila had never attempted to possess himself of Portus, which guarded the mouth of the river Tiber on the north bank and alone made possible the provisioning of the city.  Fearing that this stronghold would now be attacked, Bessas despatched a body of soldiers to strengthen its garrison; but they fell into a Gothic ambush, and were cut to pieces.  Opposite Portus, and separated from it by a desert island, on either side of which Tiber flowed to the sea, lay the ancient town of Ostia, once the port of the world’s traffic, now ruinous and scarce inhabited.  Here Totila established an outpost; but he did not otherwise threaten the harbour on the other side.  His purpose evidently was to avoid all conflict which would risk a reduction of the Gothic army, and by patient blockade to starve the Romans into surrender.

He could not surround the city, with its circuit of twelve miles; he could not keep ceaseless watch upon the sixteen gates and the numerous posterns.  King Vitiges, in his attempt to do so, had suffered terrible losses.  It was inevitable that folk should pass in and out of Rome.  But from inland no supplies could be expected by the besieged, and any ship sailing up to Portus would have little chance of landing its cargo safely.  Before long, indeed, this was put to proof.  The Pope, whose indecision still kept him lingering in Sicily, nearly a twelvemonth after his departure from Rome for Constantinople, freighted a vessel with corn for the relief of the city, and its voyage was uninterrupted as far as the Tiber’s mouth.  There it became an object of interest, not only to the Greeks on the walls of Portus, but to the Gothic soldiers at.  Ostia, who forthwith crossed in little boats, and lay awaiting the ship at the entrance to the haven.  Observant of this stratagem, the garrison, by all manner of signalling, tried to warn the sailors of the danger awaiting them; but their signals were misunderstood, being taken for gestures of eager welcome; and the ship came on.  With that lack of courage which characterised them, the Greeks did nothing more than wave arms and shout:  under their very eyes, the corn-ship was boarded by the Goths, and taken into Ostia.

Of courage, indeed, as of all other soldierly virtues, little enough was exhibited, at this stage of the war, on either side.  The Imperial troops scattered about Italy, ill-paid, and often starving mercenaries from a score of Oriental countries, saw no one ready to lead them to battle, and the one Byzantine general capable of commanding called vainly for an army.  Wearied by marchings and counter-marchings, the Gothic warriors were more disposed to rest awhile after their easy conquests than to make a vigorous effort for the capture of Rome.  Totila himself, heroic redeemer of his nation, turned anxious glances towards Ravenna,