"Have you forgotten me, men of the Parthenopæian city? I am Totila. You loved me when I was commander of your harbour. You shall bless me as your King. Do you not recollect how I saved in my ships your wives and children from the Huns of Belisarius? Listen. These very wives and children are again in my power; not as fugitives, but as prisoners. To protect them from the Byzantines (perhaps from me also), you sent them into the strong fortress of Cumæ. But know that Cumæ has surrendered, and all the fugitives are in my power. I have been advised to keep them as hostages in order to compel you to capitulate. But that is repugnant to my feelings. I have set them at liberty; the wives of the Roman senators I have sent to Rome. But your wives and children, men of Neapolis, I have brought with me; not as my hostages, not as my prisoners, but as my guests. Look how they stream out of my tents! Open your arms to receive them--they are free! Will you now fight against me? I cannot believe it! Who will be the first to aim at this breast?" and he opened wide his arms. "Hail to King Totila the Good!" was the universal acclamation. And the warm-hearted men threw down their weapons, rushed forward, and greeted with tears of joy their liberated wives and children, kissing the hem of Totila's mantle. The commander of the mercenaries rode up to him. "My lancers are surrounded and too weak to fight alone. Here, O King, is my sword. I am your prisoner." "Not so, brave Arsakide! Thou art unconquered--therefore no prisoner. Go with thy troop whither thou wilt." "I _am_ a prisoner, conquered by your magnanimity and the splendour of your eyes. Permit us henceforward to fight under your flag." In this manner a chosen troop, who stood by him faithfully, was won for Totila. Amid a shower of flowers he made his entry into Neapolis through Porta Nolana. Before Aratius, the admiral of the Byzantine fleets could raise the anchors of his war-ships, their crews were overpowered by the sailors of the many merchant vessels which lay near in the harbour, the masters of which were old admirers and thankful _protégés_ of Totila. Without shedding a drop of blood, the King had gained a fleet and the third city of importance in the kingdom. In the evenings during the banquet which the rejoicing inhabitants had prepared for him, Totila stole softly away. With surprise the Gothic sentinels saw their King, all alone, disappear into an old half-fallen tower, close to an ancient olive-tree by the Porta Capuana. The next day there appeared a decree of Totila which dispensed the women and girls of the Jews of Neapolis from a pole-tax which had, until now, been laid upon them; and which--they being forbidden to carry jewels in public--permitted them to wear a golden heart upon the bosom of their dress as a mark of distinction.