Belisarius’ Bread Bluff at Rome

150,000 Goths at the gates, and Rome’s down to its last 5,000 defenders—then the

commander hurls BREAD at them. 537 AD: the Roman Empire’s dying breath, and General Belisarius

has one loaf left. He orders it sliced, catapulted over the wall—fresh ammo, fresh taunt.

Goths see flying bread, think “They’re stuffed with food, troops,

time.” Truth? It’s sawdust crust. Night hits—Belisarius erupts: torches towers,

steals grain, welds gates shut, vanishes. Dawn: enemy count shrinks,

Roman arrows multiply. Kings beg, bribe, bargain—he answers with firepots.

374 days later plague and panic do what swords couldn’t. 30,000 Goths rot outside the walls;