Honour (12 page)

Justin was not alone in sloughing off his mortal coil; by the time Flavius reached the imperial palace Vitalian too was dead, but not through age or infirmity. He had been strangled as soon as the news of Justin’s demise was promulgated, proof of just how much Justinian feared him. He would not have done the deed himself for he was not capable, but it had the Sabbatius imprint all over it; had he not advised Justin that the man be killed years before?

On meeting his now sole Emperor, it was not a subject to be mentioned, even if Flavius suspected Justinian wanted him to enquire so he could either boast of it, explain or deny culpability. Such matters, when they came together, were best left unspoken but a message had been sent to anyone inclined to trouble the new reign and that included the nephews of Anastasius.

Matters in the east had not gone well and not just in Armenia. The incursion meant to threaten Nisibis had ended in fiasco, without even
a pretence of a fight and the man in charge had been dismissed. Not that Justinian seemed chastened, if anything he was more determined than ever, even when the news came that Timostratus, the
dux
Mesopotamiae
had died at Dara, leaving the forces there without a commander.

‘I have sent word to Kavadh that, even if he must be feeling sure of his superiority, there will be no more talents coming his way. The imperial treasury is not as it should be, my uncle was too lax and too generous, as well as failing to punish those who freely lined their own purses.’

‘I am sure you advised him on that.’

‘Advised,’ Justinian replied, imbuing the word with deep and unpleasant meaning. ‘If I had a
solidus
for every time my advice was ignored, that to punish one of these thieves would only stir up more trouble, we could buy the Sassanid Empire wholesale.’

Flavius chuckled at the joke, which died in his throat as he realised it was not meant to be one. ‘It will mean war. If Kavadh cannot pay for peace within his own domains then he has no choice but to threaten Rome.’

‘And he will be well supported by those to whom he has passed our gold over the years. Could we pay them directly and undermine Kavadh?’

‘You could try, but the various tribes are weak individually as well as mutually lacking in trust, which bars them acting together. They would be left at the mercy of Kavadh and we would not be able to aid them if he sought to impose his authority.’

‘So he will attack us once more?’ Not waiting for a reply Justinian continued. ‘Why can we not beat him?’

It should have been unnecessary to cite the reasons but Flavius did
so anyway; his numerical advantage, given by territorial proximity, better tactics and poor leadership on the Roman side, the last wrapped in caveats lest, after the loss in Armenia, it imply Justinian himself. There was also his own part in that flight back to Roman territory, though it had been made plain to him that Sittas was the man who bore responsibility.

‘But it must be possible, though it will be far from easy and luck must play a part as well as generalship.’

‘Then I hope you are gifted with both.’

The Emperor was looking at him, head canted to one side in that manner Flavius knew so well, a slight smile playing on his lips, yet one so faint it was hard to decipher the meaning.

‘Are you toying with me, Highness?’

‘No, I am not,’ came the terse reply, meant no doubt to infer that emperors did not jest.

‘You have heard of the fate of Timostratus?’ Flavius nodded, as Justinian added, ‘I do not see it as much of a loss, for he was not aggressive.’

‘Sometimes that is a good strategy.’

‘It is too often employed. You will replace Timostratus and I know you will be more active.’

Flavius was tempted to mention his lack of years and a corresponding absence of experience in high command, indeed to decline what was clearly being offered, yet he struggled to find the words, having spent the last ten years wondering at how some of those who had been given leadership of the imperial armies had ever secured their place.

He had never met Timostratus but he was one whose appointment smacked more of politics than military judgement until you remembered that Justin, who put him in place, had wanted nothing more than to
keep the peace. That, under the new reign, was set to change, so the demise of the man had been fortuitous.

Was he fit to replace him? If he had been asked by anyone other than Justinian, Flavius would have replied in the affirmative. He had much to boast of: had he not been promoted to the rank of
decanus
in Vitalian’s rebel army, given command of men twice his age and more, when no more than a callow youth and after only serving for a short period?

With every action he had engaged in since, the pacification of insurrection, the question of the effectiveness of his personal leadership had never arisen and if he had been forced into an ignominious retreat in Armenia then that had been under the command of Sittas, who had never once sought the opinion of his junior commanders.

Justinian obvious sensed the unspoken concerns. ‘I trust you, Flavius, that is all you need.’

‘Highness.’

‘I do think it would be fitting,’ Justinian said in a slightly wounded tone, ‘to thank me.’

The arrangements made for the eastern border seemed to be a mix of pragmatic moves and political expediency. Hypatius was named as
magister militum per Orientem
, giving him overall authority for the borders of Asia Minor, no doubt necessary to quiet what might prove a troublesome faction within a senate testing out the will of a new emperor.

The sons of the murdered Vitalian, who had on the accession sent immediate pledges of loyalty without reference to the fate of their father, would be not only kept in the offices but would be afforded a chance to distinguish themselves under the leadership of the new
dux Mesopotamiae.

The overall strategy was offensive. Since Dara had proved advantageous in holding the central part of the border, it seemed to Justinian sensible to seek to construct more forts, albeit funds did not exist for the construction of places of the same size and strength. Flavius was given orders to begin construction at Minduous to the north of Dara, the first of a planned string of fortified and garrisoned places by which the empire could hold its territory without the need for the constant raising of armies.

But first the Lakhmids had to be dealt with; allies of Kavadh, they had been raiding to the south of Dara, issuing from their own tribal lands to burn and plunder, and they required to be stopped, which had the added advantage of distraction. With an army entering Kavadh’s domains, threatening to chastise a confederate tribe, the Sassanids would be obliged to face that threat.

O
n taking over at Dara the new man discovered how different it was to command an army than to control a smaller military group. This was obvious from the first day and one that deteriorated as the men he was set to lead began to arrive, for Justinian had sent him to the frontier with no staff. Flavius had assumed the need would be met by those people who had served his dead predecessor but he had controlled only a static garrison that engaged in occasional patrols, not a force that aimed to blunt a Sassanid incursion and that was a very different beast.

Feeding and seeing to their supply requirements while within the confines of the fortress was burden enough, given their numbers: what wore him down was the need to plan for the forthcoming march, which being partly across desert meant ensuring a good supply of water, for the men certainly, but even more so for the horses. They required water by the barrel load and if it was lacking they would soon become useless.

Added to that there was feed for several thousand mouths, equine and human, which if it would be provided inside imperial territory,
still had to be purchased and stockpiled. Once over the frontier the same supplies required to be transported and that meant hundreds of mules – wheeled transport on soft sand was never going to work – which only added to the nightmare.

Being so busy afforded him little time to assess the men he would lead, and in the short time he could spare in evaluation, what he observed did not excite him for it seemed far from being a cohesive force. The contingents arrived in piecemeal fashion from all over the southern provinces of the empire and as was normal with such bodies their leadership was personal. Each unit of men looked to their own commanders for instruction and he was too occupied to devote enough time to altering that.

His duties granted him even less of a chance to explain to these leaders his objectives and preferred tactics but with the time of departure approaching, and most of the needs of his army met, he finally called on them to confer. Flavius was very much the man in charge but, fresh to command, he was wary of treating them with too lofty a tone, so much so that it was not orders he issued but a set of guidelines that sought to achieve consensus on what manoeuvres to adopt that afforded the best chance of success.

The most important point was that this was no invasion; the object was to check the Lakhmid raiders and force them back over the frontier. That changed when information came in that they had been reinforced by a proper army; clearly news of the Roman response had forced Kavadh to act to protect his allies. Now the task became to eject that force from Roman territory, which might occasion a proper battle.

Flavius suggested, given the altered circumstances, they take up a position in the hope of drawing the enemy onto them, in short to choose the battlefield, not least because they had no idea of Sassanid
numbers and it was definitely folly to attack an enemy of unknown strength. The feeling that those listening were merely paying lip service was one he could not put aside. He was sure he saw in their smiling agreement a hint of indulgence; they were as aware as he of his inexperience and probably saw in what he said the fear of defeat rather than a hope of victory and he decided that had to be addressed.

‘I doubt any host has marched without a certainty of impending success and too many have paid in blood for being overzealous. I would want it to be no different with us but we must acknowledge realities.’

The response came from Coutzes, who led the largest contingent of cavalry. ‘It is possible to be too cautious, Flavius Belisarius, and that is not a feeling it is wise to allow to pervade an army. Our men look to us to display confidence. We must ever appear certain of victory otherwise the spirit will not be there when we need it.’

A son of Vitalian and the
dux
of
Phoenicia Libanensis
, Coutzes ruled his satrapy from Palmyra. He came across as a man full of confidence and one who saw no need for excessive respect to his titular superior, both obvious in the cast of his look and the tone of his voice, though he was never openly impolite.

That there was an undertone in his attitude was only to be expected; Coutzes knew Flavius was close to Justinian, just as he must be aware that the Emperor had been behind his father’s murder. That fact alone made Flavius wonder how he could continue to serve the Emperor and placed a mark on his character. Yet to show any disrespect would not serve, so the response had to be one that took account of his obvious self-esteem.

‘I know what you mean, Coutzes, and I accept it as valid. But men who cannot see further than the end of their lance rely on the likes of
us to do so for them, to make sure we do not waste their blood. We are about to traverse a desert, which imposes supply problems not least with water and that tells our enemies the direction we must take to have access to the wells.’

Atafar the Saracen spoke up this time. ‘Where they will wait for us.’

Of all the junior commanders he seemed the most receptive to what was being imparted and it was easy to understand why, for his men were entirely infantry. He was an experienced leader and came showered with honours from previous battles in which he had acted with bravery and distinction, so he knew what he wanted. Fluid battle and rushed movement was not the forte of the kind of levies he led. They were more suited to stout defence on suitable ground followed by a mass attack once the conditions for victory had been attained, namely the enemy been rendered disordered when they were still in proper formations.

‘Perhaps. If they want to avoid battle they will block access and force us to withdraw, for we cannot remain an effective force without water. If they want a fight, then the position they will take will be beyond the wells in the hope that with thirst fully quenched we will attack them.’

‘You seem to know their mind, Flavius Belisarius.’

‘Let us say, Coutzes, that I know my own and it is what I would do.’ That got a look that disconcerted him, given it smacked of scepticism. ‘In the second case we will have ample water, a good line of supply back to Dara and enough cavalry to screen against being outflanked and surprised, so we can wait them out.’

‘Hardly glorious.’

‘You will have all the glory you wish, Coutzes, when we beat them.’

‘You seem very sure we will.’

‘You cannot hold both arguments, now can you? You reproach me for too much caution then question my confidence.’ Flavius smiled to take the sting out of the next words. ‘Which is it to be?’

‘Just as long as we fight.’

‘We shall, but think on this. The field of battle could be desert and that means sand. How much harder will it be for your horse, Coutzes, to stay strong on soft ground? The Sassanids rely on horse archers and their speed to cause havoc, to so affect our levies that they will wilt when attacked by the enemy infantry. Well, I have seen them and if I say to you I want them riding on that same sand I hope you will understand why.’

‘It will slow and tire them,’ Atafar said.

‘I will wager my horsemen will do as well as any other,’ Coutzes insisted, ‘never mind the ground.’

Watching them the following morning as the men he was to lead fielded and paraded, Flavius concentrated his attention on the cavalry. There were two contingents, that of Coutzes and another from Palaestina led by a young Equestrian called Vincent, and he could not but compare their discipline to that of the
bucellarii
when he observed how hard it was for them to form up into the required files, efforts accompanied by much shouting and blowing of horns.

This told him he had command of a mounted force of the kind that had failed so often before, men on hard-to-control mounts chosen for speed, full of fire and with only one aim, to charge at and destroy any perceived enemy. The Saracen infantry were equally full of ardour for battle but at least they seemed able to arrange themselves in some kind of order within a reasonable time and this he put down to Atafar and his long experience.

Every inch the Arab, with his hooded eyes, hooked nose and full
greying beard, Atafar was the man who most impressed Flavius. He would have liked to have anointed him as his deputy but the feelings of Coutzes, with his imperial rank of
dux
, made that difficult.

Flavius had his verbal instructions from Justinian and they brooked no delay and that was backed up by a constant stream of missives once the nature of the threat became known; this Sassanid force must be expelled, which led his anointed general to impious thoughts. With no one to restrain or check him, the new Emperor, after one marginally successful campaign in Armenia, seemed sure he was possessed of a hitherto undisclosed military genius.

Did he not see by his insistence on instant action he was leaving no time for training or the chance to impose his will on the force he led? However many times the despatches were read, Flavius knew the message: he must make do with what he had and act at once.

The first part of the march was relatively easy as they passed through an imperial territory rich in agriculture but just as long on indifference. There was no gathering of citizenry to cheer them on, no flowers cast at their feet and no paeans of praise aimed at the finely clad man leading them, which led Flavius to wonder, as he had in the past, at the nature of the men who ruled these far-flung provinces.

Far from Constantinople, provincial governance was carried out on the personal whim of the man in charge, and experience told him, something he had found in all those duties he had undertaken for Justin, that most of those cared not a whit for the welfare of the Emperor’s subjects.

A province of empire was there to be bled for profit, the kind of sums that could then be employed to buy an office within the higher bureaucracy, something the ruler seemed incapable of changing. Justin had tried and failed in the face of obdurate officials. Knowing
Justinian, Flavius felt he would be more inclined to use it to gain his ends than seek to alter it.

Even here he had a cavalry screen out in front of the main force, this led by Coutzes. There had been an awkward moment the previous night when he had sought a private interview. After beating about the bush, there being many references to his father and his abilities, the
dux Phoenicia Libanensis
had hinted that when the time came for battle to be joined, he would wish to be granted a leading role and that should this be forthcoming it would be to the advantage of Flavius Belisarius.

The inference, however subtly it was put forward, was obvious: Flavius was being offered a bribe, which told him that this man knew nothing of him and had made no effort to find out. How many times when engaged in pacification had he been offered talents of gold to bend one way or the other? The mere suggestion always made him think of the fat and venal Senuthius Vicinus, the man responsible for the death of his male relatives as well as the men they led.

He could not do then what he had done in the past, string the miscreant up by his thumbs and invite those whose money they had no doubt pilfered to chastise him as they wished, either with rotten vegetables or, as had happened in some cases, with stones enough to leave a bloody pulp. He needed this man, which obliged him to think on his motives.

Coutzes clearly wanted glory and the sole reason for the need was to impress Justinian of his loyalty and secure himself against the same fate as his father. The notion nearly made Flavius laugh, which would have been just as insulting as a downright refusal to take his gold; Justinian would not kill Coutzes, he was not important enough and nor was he, as Vitalian had been, a perceived threat.

‘It is to be hoped that we will all be eager to engage with our
enemies when the time comes, Coutzes, and should glory beckon it will likely favour you as much as anyone.’

‘I can arrange—’

Coutzes got no further as Flavius abruptly cut him off. ‘No arrangements are necessary.’

The way that was taken showed that this cavalry commander was not yet the fully formed courtier, for he could not mask his anger, hard as he tried. It was with a stiff expression that he inclined his head, before spinning round and leaving the chamber. The memory of the encounter stayed with Flavius and was with him as he rode; a man in search of personal glory could pose problems.

Encamped that night, Flavius called another meeting at which he sought to cement his views. Then, having eaten, he took a tour round the tents, seeking to make his presence and his face known. He wanted, even if it was only with a look, to imply to those he led that he cared for their welfare and to ensure they knew that as they ate the supplies he had arranged for them, it was he who had worried for their bellies. It was an impossible task given if anyone spoke with him it was as rare and respectful as to have little effect.

The following morning, after the priests had said Mass and the men had broken their fast, they formed up again to head due east into the arid desert of Thannuris. This was done under a blazing sun that, with the sand dragging at their feet, took a heavy toll on the foot soldiers. Nor were those mounted spared; they spent as much time walking as riding with frequent stops for water taken from the loaded carts Flavius had sent ahead.

That would not pertain on the following day; the carts would follow the army not precede it, for they would be close to where they expected they might find their enemy. If they were west of the wells
Flavius would have no choice but to order an immediate withdrawal, which would do nothing to enhance his standing here or in the capital. To give his infantry as little marching to do as possible he had sent the cavalry ahead to find the Sassanids and give him warning of what he faced.

His orders had been explicit: locate and wait unless they are west of the wells and seemingly set up to do battle, in which case we will make a display of force then retire out of the desert. Personally, he longed for them to be beyond the wells and his mood was a mixture of eagerness and anxiety as to what would be the outcome of his first battle as a general if that wish was granted. The history of fighting against the Sassanids was not one of success for the Eastern Empire but if he could deploy as he wished, then he had a chance to alter that.