Honour

by Jack Ludlow

  It had occasioned no tears when in his despatch he named Coutzes among the dead; that was not the case with Atafar and even less with the men he led. Many had perished, this he knew from a later examination of the body-littered field where they had sought to stand and fight, so many having fallen to arrows. The old Arab had died leading them, but there was another grim reading of what he observed: there were fewer bodies than Atafar had brought to Dara. How many had been taken as prisoners to endure a life of slavery?

  In writing the full report Flavius had the memory of Vincent to aid him. The Equestrian was able to pass on the exhortations that Coutzes had employed to persuade his fellow captains to disobey what was a direct instruction from their general. Even if these were included and the outcome described Flavius made no attempt to shift the blame; he was the man in command and if he had entrusted part of his force to Coutzes he bore the responsibility for such a poor decision.

  That he would be removed he had no doubt and he was resigned to his fate. Being a friend to Justinian would not count for much when every voice around him would be questioning his appointment of Flavius Belisarius to so important a post in the first place. They would do so with caveats to his imperial sagacity, of course, but these courtiers had spent a lifetime honing their oratorical skills. They were well versed in getting the message they really wanted to impart over to even the most deaf of rulers.

  It hardly aided his mood when Flavius heard that the castle building he had set in train at Minduous had been abandoned in the face of a Sassanid threat. There had been no battle; all the enemy had to do was show enough strength in numbers to make the effort untenable and force the men Flavius had sent to carry out the construction running for the safety of Dara.

  The day the messenger rode through the gates brought on that which Flavius dreaded, yet the despatches he brought were far from censorious. Instead they warned him that following their successes, the Sassanids were now emboldened enough to make an attempt to invest and capture Dara itself and that Kavadh was busy raising the necessary forces, which would take time and allow Flavius to prepare.

  There was no hint of dismissal; the despatch informed him that fresh and better troops were on their way to support him and that he was now charged with making sure the fortress did not fall. As well as levies from the province of Phoenicia he was promised mercenary cavalry from both the Huns and the Germanic Heruls, who were numbered among the best mounted soldiers the empire possessed.

  There was no point in asking if the information regarding an attempt of Dara was correct and even less did he have time to do so. The Romans had spies everywhere and in the past some of their intelligence had proved to be either wishful thinking or downright invention to secure their stipend, but he had no choice but to act as if it was true.

  There was a second message, a private communication from Justinian in which the Emperor chided him for what had happened, but that was leavened by his point that when it came to defeats Flavius Belisarius was in some exalted company. How many of his fellow generals had failed as he had over the last decades? When he wrote that he still had faith in him it was couched in words that told him there were many voices assailing the imperial ear with contrary advice.

  Justinian went to some lengths to address his concerns and showed some insight into the problems facing the man in the field as opposed to the people at court. When it came to organisation he was sending out Hermogenes, the magister officiorum, to oversee matters of supply and organisation. Surprised at the appointment of such a high-ranking bureaucrat Flavius wondered if it was a case of Justinian removing an irritant from his council. The other point was more personal; he urged him to appoint a domesticus, someone committed to him personally with whom he could discuss those matters that had to be kept within the bounds of discretion.

  ‘Perhaps such a sounding board would have allowed you to see Coutzes for what he was.’

  The letter ended with the kind of good wishes that one friend sends to another, only marred by the fact that it was purported to come not just from Justinian but from Theodora as well.

  Mulling on it Flavius took to the idea of a domesticus. Ohannes had come under that designation in his father’s household but a servant was not what Justinian was proposing. What he had in mind was a higher sort of position, filled by a man who might sometimes treat him as near an equal. If he was to have a person in that role then he too must be a soldier, for he needed someone with whom he could exchange ideas on his military and command responsibilities.

  It was a few days later, when out studying the ground outside Dara, that he found two things: the field on which he wanted to fight and the man who would fulfil the role that Justinian had suggested. A eunuch called Solomon, he was a middle-ranking official of the Mesopotamian council who had, at one time, been a soldier. Such functionaries aided Flavius in his role as dux, given he was responsible to Constantinople for whatever happened in the whole province.

  One of Solomon’s duties was the recruitment or drafting of labour to keep the fortress in good repair, the roads, too, and any of the other tasks that were needed to maintain buildings, sewers and the like. It was, for the dux, an office easy to abuse by inflating costs or hiring out the labour to private individuals, and this had happened under his predecessor.

  Expecting the same rapacious overlord, Solomon had shown some surprise when it became obvious that this Flavius Belisarius was not out to fill chests with gold; he wanted only that the necessary works be carried out without excessive expenditure and nothing for himself. If their association had not been of great length it had been mutually agreeable and based on doing that which was right, unlike that of others the dux was obliged to deal with, who took his insistence on honesty badly.

  Solomon was along for a very sound reason: Flavius would be in need of much labour if the plan forming in his mind came to pass, so with him was the man who would have to see part of it implemented. When he alighted on the possibility that Solomon might well fulfil the role of domesticus it was because the combination was suitable, a knowledge of civil affairs married to a military background, these facts pointed out to him. But would he accept?

  ‘At least you cannot, with such a name, be challenged for your wisdom.’

  ‘It will be your wisdom I am supposed to challenge, Your Honour.’

  The man was far from young, well past four decades, lugubrious in his nature, with a long, thin face, sad eyes and a lantern jaw below a wide mouth. If not a beauty that reply showed he was made of the right material.

  ‘Tell me what you think of this place.’

  ‘Do you intend to fight here?’

  ‘Perhaps.’

  ‘Hard to take Dara by siege, Your Honour,’ came the reply, as Solomon looked over his shoulder at the massive walls plain to see from where they sat.

  ‘Hiding behind those is no way to defeat the Sassanids and I want to soundly beat them.’

  ‘For pride, would it be?’

  ‘No, and I know from where your question springs.’

  ‘Hurts to be bested.’

  ‘I doubt you know how much, but I would not risk men’s lives for my reputation.’ That such an assertion was not questioned, even by the look on Solomon’s face, cheered him. ‘If Kavadh’s armies invest Dara with us defending, it will drag to our aid every soldier the empire can spare for they cannot be sure it will hold. The Sassanids have not lost the art of siege warfare. Odd that we Romans taught them how and we have forgotten ourselves. There’s not a ballista in the whole imperial army.’

  ‘Nor the men skilled in their use. Kavadh has them too.’

  ‘So his generals will have the means to keep us locked up in Dara, this while any forces marching to relieve us will be in the open and that is where we have always failed against our enemies. Say they are beaten, where does that leave us and our garrison? This time I want to fight them on my terms and all I need to know is, is this a good place?’

  ‘Well,’ the older man mused, ‘you
have a good-sized hill to secure one flank and you can be sure if the Sassanids come this far they will attack you as they must to get at the city.’

  ‘You sense I will be defensive?’

  ‘You would have to be and you’d best make sure no one panics and closes the fortress gates if matters look to be going against us.’

  ‘Us?’

  ‘If I accept your offer I would be by your side.’

  ‘You should have remained a soldier, Solomon.’

  ‘Fewer aches and pains with quill and parchment.’

  ‘Less exhilaration.’

  ‘I might be past that.’

  ‘Yes or no?’ It was a while before the nod came but come it did. ‘So, let me outline my intentions.’

  ‘I’m told there are men on the way. Best consult with their captains, do you not think?’

  There was no cordiality in the reply. ‘This time the men I lead will do exactly as I require.’

  The least welcome of the men who came to lead his forces was Bouzes, brother of the late Coutzes, now sole dux of Phoenicia Libanensis and Vitalian’s eldest son. From the first it was obvious, even if it was never mentioned, that he knew of the way Flavius had castigated his brother in the recent defeat and that was demonstrated in his resentment when required to obey an instruction. It was in this situation that having Solomon to talk to was an advantage.

  ‘Who are those who would support him at court?’

  ‘A wise question, to which I do not know the answer, such a place ever being a mystery to me.’

  ‘One it might be wise to solve, Your Honour. Best to know who you will offend before you threaten to send him home.’

  ‘Is that what you would suggest?’

  ‘I sense it is what you wish to do, and yes, I would come to the same conclusion with greater confidence if I had some inkling of the trouble it will bring you.’

  ‘I cannot think on that. Send to Bouzes asking him to attend upon me.’

  That his arrival was long delayed sent a message to Flavius, which did nothing for his mood when the man who might be his senior cavalry commander eventually arrived. But he was not going to let himself be checked for tardiness.

  ‘We are of equal rank, Flavius Belisarius, are we not? So it ill becomes you to be angered that I do not run to your side like a faithful dog.’

  There was much of his father in Bouzes, the same stocky build and wide shoulders, most tellingly in the hard stare. But there was also his brother there, the same sureness of mind and no hint that listening served as well as talking.

  ‘Do you blame me for your brother’s death?’

  That shook Bouzes, being so unexpected, but he quickly recovered. ‘You led him.’

  ‘The trouble is no one led him, for he would not have it. I will not bore you with an explanation of his folly, nor how expensive it was in the blood of those he had command of. Suffice to say I will not bear a repeat of the attitude he displayed.’

  ‘Repeat?’

  ‘Do not pretend you have no idea of what I am saying. Coutzes disobeyed a direct order from me. You, Bouzes, may be lucky to get the chance.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Flavius changed his tone then to make sure his point went to where it was needed. ‘At the next sign of disrespect I will send you away from here.’

  ‘You need my men.’

  ‘And they shall stay, which will give you two choices, to slink back to your satrapy or go to the Emperor and plead your case.’

  That took the blood from the man’s face; he had the same fears as Coutzes, that Justinian was just biding his time before having him killed, and his need was similar: to take part in a battle, to behave with distinction and prove that he was a loyal subject.

  ‘There will be no repeat of this warning, Bouzes. Anger me once more and you will find my bucellarii escorting you out of the western gate.’

  The face was thunderous and indicated a desire to argue but the mind must have been working behind that. Here before and berating him was a man who had failed in battle yet had suffered no censure that he knew of. Just how much was he Justinian’s man? Could disputing with Flavius Belisarius be the quickest route to a dungeon or a fate even worse?

  It hurt what he said then, that was obvious by the strangled tone. ‘If I have offended you, it is not by design.’

  ‘Good, and if you want my good offices that is easy. Just do as I command and kill our enemies. Now I think we are done.’

  The digging of the ditches was overseen by Solomon, Flavius being too busy seeking to imbue his cavalry with some manoeuvres other than the charge. His own fifteen-hundred-strong bucellarii had to put aside their bows and lances to show how they wheeled, advanced and retired to the various horn commands as well as the purpose, the other cavalry being harangued about the need to maintain some control so as not to forfeit their tactical use.

  The arrival of Hermogenes, with a pair of assistants, heralded a split in the command but he turned out to be a man quite satisfied to be merely consulted. It was not deference; if he disagreed he said so. But that was an attitude rarely displayed and when Flavius outlined his plan in private, the old bureaucrat readily assented, with a minor caveat that should the battle go badly some way must be found for the cavalry to screen and protect infantry retiring to the safety of the fortress, which received a caustic response from Flavius.

  ‘If it comes to that the only use we will have for horses is as food.’

  Hermogenes took on the task of supply procurement, scouring the surrounding countryside until the fortress storerooms could hold no more, the double advantage of that being the denial of the same to the enemy. While Flavius concentrated on his training, three great trenches were being dug to his design, not in a line but with the central ditch set forward.

  Infantry preparation was undertaken as well, but this was not about movement, more about how to stay steady under fire from horse archers as well as a ground attack. At the same time the scouts were out to give prior warning of the enemy. In fact it was Perozes, the Sassanids’ commander, who confirmed their approach; he sent Flavius a message ahead requesting that he prepare for him a bath.

  ‘He will bath in blood,’ Bouzes spat when this message was relayed to his officers by the recipient.

  ‘He will satisfy me if he retires unwashed and smelling of disgrace, but what I need now are numbers, so get those scouts doing what they should and counting.’

  The replies that came back put the strength of Perozes very close to that of the Romans at some five thousand effectives, which his opponent knew was insufficient for the task the Sassanid general had been given. Apart from that there was no sign of siege equipment.

  ‘There must be more coming in his wake. Keep men out and watching for reinforcements.’

  ‘They may be caught and give your dispositions,’ Hermogenes mused.

  ‘The enemy will see my dispositions soon enough and I hope they will cause him to wonder. Right now we must get the army fed, blessed and rested.’

  ‘Battle on the morrow?’ Bouzes asked in a jovial voice, seeking to ingratiate himself.

  ‘Pray for that,’ Flavius replied, ‘and pray for Rome.’

  They heard the flutes and drums of the Sassanids as the sun rose to reveal a landscape covered with a mass of movement, with Perozes to the fore under a red, blue and white Sassanid banner. When he stopped it was to direct the various contingents to their positions before riding forward to examine what he could see of the defence Flavius had set out to create. There had been no attempt to hide the ditches and, watching him, his opposite number hoped that he was confused by their layout.

  Following that nothing happened; the only activity in the morning hours was Perozes redeploying some of his men to take account of what he had observed, but he had few options if he was to avoid a frontal assault on the Romans whom he would have to destroy if he were to take Dara by main force.

  The hours went by with no activity other than the arrival of the supp
ly carts and the feeding of the Romans, overseen by one of the aides Hermogenes had brought with him, a young fellow called Procopius, a fellow of slim build, high forehead and a somewhat intense manner, an advocate by training.

  Then once more it was hiatus until Hermogenes said. ‘They want us hungry.’

  This suggestion confused Flavius. Both were sat on a low mound, which gave them a clear view of the field before them, not that there was much to see and it was obvious that the younger man was at a loss to understand.

  ‘We feed our men before noon, the Persians take their sustenance later. If they wait till mid afternoon they will hope themselves stronger for having been late fed.’ The older man smiled. ‘If you read the reports of Trajan’s secretary this you would have seen.’

  ‘What do we do?’

  ‘Nothing. We have distributed our rations for the day.’

  ‘We could have waited.’

  ‘Allow me to advise you for once, Flavius Belisarius. Hold hard to habits, for to break them will upset large bodies of men more than you or I could imagine.’

  It came to pass that the old bureaucrat was right; with the sun well past its zenith Perozes did sound the advance, pushing forward with his cavalry on his right wing. It had to be head on since he could not go around the Romans without presenting to them an opportunity to attack his flank, which had his horse archers riding forward to discharge their arrows from the other side of the ditch. This put them at the mercy of their Roman counterparts, on foot and concentrated as soon as the attack began to develop, able to send a hail of missiles so intense it drove them off.

  Next came an advance by the Sassanid cataphracts, the layered armour covering both horse- and rider-proof against arrows. They thundered forward as if to take on the ditch, and in crossing it hit the lighter cavalry on the Roman left with force. Bouzes, in command, had begun to give way in order to minimise his losses from archery but, just as reinforcements were being assembled, the Sassanids declined to seek advantage from that retirement. They withdrew, which had Flavius chewing his lower lip, wondering what that portended.