by Jack Ludlow
‘So now, how do I address you?’ Flavius asked, once his men had been deployed and he was alone with the new imperial couple.
The response came with a sly smile. ‘Does Highness stick in your craw, Flavius?’
‘I admit it will be hard, but I managed with your uncle, so I daresay I can abide the usage with you.’
‘Just as long as you do not use his given name of Petrus!’
Flavius turned to face Theodora, to come under the gaze of a pair of near black eyes which were well short of affection, a reflection of the tone she had just employed.
‘A right, I am sure, Lady, you will reserve to yourself?’
‘What I choose to reserve to myself is no concern of yours, Flavius Belisarius.’
‘My dear,’ her husband interjected, ‘he is my friend. I was merely jesting, he may address me as he wishes.’
The response was cold. ‘You are a ruler now and an emperor can have no friends.’
‘I fear you are in for a lonely existence,’ Flavius responded, favouring Petrus with a sympathetic smile.
‘I will take care that is not so, thus it does not fall to you to concern yourself.’
The dilated nostrils sent a physical message to add to the biting verbal one, a trait that took her nose and sharpened it in a remarkable and very obvious way. Flavius did not know, but his gut feeling was acute: Theodora, striking to look at and seemingly full of purpose, even after what had just taken place, felt vulnerable and that might extend to a deep-seated fear.
That the upper classes would hate her elevation, she must know; even many an ordinary citizen would shake their heads at such a woman occupying a position that could be, as it had in the past, one of great power and influence. Had not the late Emperor Anastasius got the diadem through the bedchamber? To reach such a pinnacle, as she had, brought with it risks and it did not take too vivid an imagination to see that should she fall, her end would not be a pleasant one.
Were such concerns justified? If she did not command her husband it was plain that he rarely did anything without consulting her. He was still as besotted as he had been when Flavius first sat with them in company, the time at which he had sensed her resentment of him; Theodora wanted to be the sole fount of advice and comfort, the one person the newly coined Justinian would turn to and she resented not only that Flavius was able to bypass this, but also, it seemed, that he did so in such an easy-going manner. Sensing the need to broker a peace, Justinian spoke up.
‘I will not object, Flavius, if you call me Justinian in private, since I have never been truly enamoured of the name Petrus. But I would ask that you acknowledge my dignity in a public space.’
‘You’re too soft, husband.’
‘No, Theodora, I owe Flavius much and so do you.’
That open repudiation, sternly delivered, was not well received: those nostrils dilated even further but the sight of that was brief; Theodora abruptly spun round and left the chamber, leaving Flavius to wonder what price her husband would pay for such a public rebuke.
‘I fear your good lady does not care for me.’
‘She will come round in time, Flavius. She has been betrayed too many times in her life, lied to and even abandoned, to repose much trust in anyone.’
‘I can assume she trusts you?’
‘Let’s hope so, for if not I am in for an imperial nightmare.’
‘Then I request that you send me on some service so that I do not have to share it.’
‘Flavius, it is my intention to lead you. My uncle has granted me permission to attempt to remind the Sassanids that they have a power with whom they must contend. No more sitting and letting them do as they please and just soak up our subventions to their coffers.’
Full of enthusiasm, Justinian began to outline the plans, which involved a two-pronged assault, one in the north under his personal command, another further south in Mesopotamia to attack towards Nisibis under the command of one Libelarius. Flavius, examining the proposal, did not do so with as much confidence as that of the man outlining it, not least because of the utterly unproven military ability of Justinian. But the other factor which worried him was the excessive level of ambition.
Given such thoughts, there would have been a time, and a recent one, when Flavius might have responded with a jokily delivered ‘God help us’. Now that seemed inappropriate; if Theodora was wrong in saying an emperor could have no friends, such companions were required to show care in bringing them to their senses.
Justinian led the forces that invaded Persian Armenia but it was not from the front; he took up residence in the city of Theodosiopolis in the Roman province of Armenia Inferior and acted as commander from there. These ancient lands, the cockpit of so much Persian, Greek and Roman conflict over the centuries, had been acrimoniously split between the two empires and that meant raid and counter raid, the odd siege of a border fortress. But there had been no major incursions by either side for years and that was a situation Justinian was keen to exploit, given there should be little organised opposition.
Flavius Belisarius was given the leadership of the cavalry under the command of one Sittas, thirty years his senior, invading a region lacking a force with which to contest. He was part of an army of several thousand local levies that barely qualified as proper infantry, milities happy to partake in the destruction of any of their neighbour’s goods which could not be carried away. This did not include the various municipal treasuries taken from unfortified towns or objects of gold and silver and the coin-filled chests of the wealthier inhabitants. These, along with huge herds of horses and cattle, were brought back into Roman territory, while the crops that could not be eaten or brought out were burnt.
A cock-a-hoop Justinian, having seen the profits of what he saw as his masterful strategy, determined on another major raid, which was to be launched with high hopes and many a flowery prayer for an assured victory, this despite attempts by Flavius to suggest to him that such an incursion might run into trouble if it was pushed forward too aggressively.
He was right: this time they did not get far from the border marker posts of Armenia Inferior; the Persians were alert and awaiting them in superior numbers, which obliged Sittas to order an immediate withdrawal, though his reaction proved to be too slow. The Persians, as ever strong in their mounted arm and with a host of horse archers, moved too fast.
The Romans were forced into a post-noon battle in which their enemy chose the ground, open and waterless, with no protection on either flank, where the Sassanids could deploy two weapons which the Romans had ever struggled to contend with. First the horse archers wrought havoc, and by breaking up the various untrained milities units they destroyed any hope of holding the field. Then the Sassanids sent forward a body of their cataphract cavalry, lance-bearing armoured horsemen on equally protected substantial mounts, small in number on this occasion, but extremely effective.
Flavius was denied the chance to send forward his cavalry, who had taken the name of bucellarii from the hard biscuit that made up the base of their rations, in reality to test them in battle, which might not reverse matters but would buy time. Sittas feared to lose the one arm that might save him and nor did he seek to hold until nightfall, when it would become possible to slip away, albeit in broken groups.
He ordered an immediate retreat, one in which his already distressed units fell into chaos to become no more than a terrified rabble. Only the mounted force under Flavius, with Sittas in their midst, was able to ride clear. They returned to Theodosiopolis to find Justinian no longer present and if, at first thought it was to avoid blame for the defeat, that proved wrong.
The message of recall had come from the capital: Justin was dying and the designated successor had to be in Constantinople to claim his inheritance. Flavius was ordered to follow at once, it being obvious his friend would want close to him all those who would protect his person. Leaving the bucellarii to follow as fast as they could, he used many changes of mounts to ensure he arrived in ti
me to pay his dying mentor his due respect.
In that he failed; Justin had passed away in a fog of debilitation, babbling of a life very far removed from that to which he had risen. The old man had harked back over sixty years to a rustic youth spent trying adult patience, scrapping for the means to eat at constant risk of a barbarian incursion, the very event that had driven him from his home and hearth in the company of his friends, one of them Flavius’s father.
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.
CHAPTER TWELVE
On 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 thous
and 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.