The Byzantine Gambit: Belisarius Lands in Italy

In the spring of 536 AD, the Byzantine general Belisarius launched one of the most audacious military campaigns of late antiquity. With a modest force of just 5,000 men, he crossed the narrow Strait of Messina from Sicily to the Italian mainland using little more than commandeered fishing boats. The Gothic rulers of Italy, having concentrated their forces in the north, left the southern regions virtually undefended. Belisarius’ advance was swift and unopposed, mirroring his earlier conquest of Sicily.

The historian Procopius records that southern Italians greeted Belisarius’ army with cheers as it marched north along the ancient Roman roads. Yet, despite their apparent enthusiasm, no local militias joined his ranks—a stark contrast to his earlier campaign in North Africa. The people, largely Catholic, may have seen the Byzantines as liberators from Arian Gothic rule, but their support remained passive.

The Siege of Naples: A Turning Point

Naples, emerging as southern Italy’s foremost city, was defended by a mere 800 Gothic soldiers. However, its large Jewish population, wary of Emperor Justinian’s harsh policies against non-Christians, resisted Byzantine entry. Fearing persecution, they influenced the city’s leadership to keep the gates shut.

Belisarius, lacking a fleet for a naval blockade, faced a dilemma: storming Naples would be costly, but bypassing it was impossible. The solution came from an unlikely source—an abandoned Roman aqueduct. A scouting party discovered that the derelict structure led directly into the city through an old water tower. Under cover of darkness, Byzantine soldiers infiltrated Naples, seized a gate, and let the main army inside.

The capture of Naples was brutal. While Belisarius ordered his troops to spare civilians, resistance—particularly from the Jewish community—was met with violence. Ironically, the Gothic garrison was spared and absorbed into the Byzantine ranks. The 20-day siege foreshadowed the war’s grim reality: the greatest suffering fell not on warriors, but on ordinary Italians.

The Bloodless Capture of Rome

From Naples, Belisarius advanced toward Rome via the Appian and Latin Roads. The Goths, recognizing their strategic disadvantage, chose not to defend the city outright. On December 10, 536, Gothic forces withdrew from Rome’s northern gates as Byzantine troops entered from the south—a seamless, bloodless transition.

Yet Belisarius knew the Goths would return. He immediately fortified Rome’s crumbling walls, particularly the northern sections facing Gothic strongholds. When local clergy insisted divine protection made repairs unnecessary, the general ignored them—a pragmatic decision that would soon prove vital.

The Siege of Rome: A Year of Desperation

By March 537, the Gothic king Witigis arrived with a massive army of 150,000 men. Belisarius, commanding just 3,500 Byzantine troops and a hastily assembled militia, faced overwhelming odds. The ensuing siege became a masterclass in defensive warfare.

The Byzantines’ superior cavalry tactics—using mounted archers rather than Gothic lancers—allowed them to inflict heavy losses in skirmishes. Meanwhile, Rome’s southern districts remained eerily calm, with pilgrims still visiting St. Peter’s Basilica. The war’s strangest feature was its religious dimension: Arian Goths refused to attack Catholic holy sites, creating bizarre pockets of normalcy amid the fighting.

The Goths eventually cut Rome’s aqueducts, forcing residents to rely on wells. Belisarius, in a symbolic end to an 850-year-old tradition, dismantled the ruined waterways to prevent enemy infiltration. As food shortages worsened, he evacuated non-combatants southward—a ruthless but necessary tactic to preserve supplies.

Betrayal and the Breaking of Trust

The siege strained relations between Romans and Byzantines. Pope Silverius, who had facilitated Belisarius’ peaceful entry, secretly plotted to open the city’s gates to the Goths. When discovered, he was exiled to Constantinople—a move that deepened local resentment.

Meanwhile, Witigis, enraged by perceived Roman treachery, massacred Italian senators in Ravenna. The fragile Gothic-Roman coexistence, maintained since Theodoric’s reign, collapsed entirely.

The Battle for Hadrian’s Mausoleum

The siege’s climax came at Hadrian’s Mausoleum (now Castel Sant’Angelo). Gothic troops, attempting to storm the fortress, were repelled when Byzantine defenders hurled shattered classical statues down upon them—an act Procopius lamented as cultural vandalism. The battle marked a turning point: though the Goths briefly captured Rome’s port at Ostia, their morale was broken.

Aftermath: A Hollow Victory

In March 538, after a year and nine days, the Goths withdrew. Belisarius, far from triumphant, wrote a scathing letter to Justinian demanding reinforcements and supplies. The emperor responded with 8,600 fresh troops—but also sent a rival general, ensuring future tensions.

The war’s legacy was ambiguous. Belisarius had reclaimed Rome, but the campaign devastated Italy’s infrastructure and social fabric. The destruction of aqueducts symbolized the end of an era: Rome’s ancient civic ideals gave way to militarized survival. The Gothic War, begun as a religious crusade against Arian “heretics,” ultimately achieved little beyond suffering—a prelude to Italy’s long medieval decline.

Conclusion: The Cost of Reconquest

Belisarius’ Italian campaign demonstrated Byzantine military brilliance but also the hollowness of Justinian’s restoration dream. The war shattered the delicate balance between Goths and Romans, leaving Italy weakened for Lombard invasions later in the century. Procopius, our primary source, captures the tragedy: a general fighting for a fading empire, men dying for obsolete ideals, and a civilization quietly extinguishing itself amid the ruins of its own greatness.