by Jack Ludlow
‘The object is to fix them in place before he launches the main assault, which must come soon as there is only so much daylight left.’
‘Where will it come?’
‘If it were me it would be in the same place. We can’t surprise him from behind that hillock twice and the ditch repairs have to be easier to break down than what they had to destroy the first time. Against that we are able to move reserves without his being able to see it and it would have to be guarded against, which might blunt what happens to the front. Pharas is now back alongside Bouzes, so from where Perozes is looking that may seem a more formidable point to attack than previously.’
‘And if he breaks the centre?’
‘He won’t!’
There are times in a battle when a sort of hiatus descends; it is not that nothing is happening, more that little is changing, though it is also a situation that cannot last forever. For Flavius the advantage of being in defence was bearing the fruit for which he had hoped. It was his opposite number who had to make all the tactical decisions, which allowed him to be reactive. But there was another string to his personal bow and one, if Perozes obliged him, that would prove decisive.
He was thus pleased to see that the central infantry attack was not being too ardently pressed, it was exerting just enough pressure to keep his men engaged and now Perozes had sent forward his ditch destroyers on the Roman left, while behind them once more the cataphracts had formed their lines in preparation to follow. It was what lay to their rear that gave the plan away; there were the Sassanid light cavalry, put in place to pursue a beaten foe once their more puissant comrades had created the necessary space.
Hermogenes pointed out to Procopius that this would be the main assault. It may have been decades since he had soldiered but he had seen enough to make sense of what lay before him, which was just as well, given Flavius needed to hand over tactical responsibility.
‘I will need your good advice, Hermogenes, for staying here you will see what I cannot. If you think my plans are set to fail I need you to tell me.’
The older man just nodded as Flavius Belisarius rode off, his comitatus in his wake, to take command of the bucellarii. Once with them he would only see that which lay right before him.
In the letter Procopius wrote to Constantinople he outlined how the Sassanids had pressed on the right in the same manner as they had on the left against Bouzes. Even he, a non-military man, could discern the reasons for Perozes throwing his men forward on his left wing; there was no way they could be surprised by a sally from behind a hill for there was none, just the meandering stream in a deep gully that fed water to Dara and formed the right-flank defence of the Belisarius position.
Before long it appeared to be an attack that was on the verge of success; the same tactics produced the same result: a destroyed ditch, planking used to get onto even ground and equal terms, the pressure from the heavily armoured cataphracts forcing back the Romans, but once more it was with an unbroken frontage. What neither of his forward tactical commanders could see was the way that was going to be countered, for Bouzes and Pharas, those they could see and not already fighting, remained in place.
Flavius Belisarius had horsemen lined up at the right-hand edge of the central ditch and there they stayed until the Sassanid assault was well past their position, as apparent flank guard. From what the enemy could see it was but a thin screen; Procopius and Hermogenes could see the truth. Behind that seeming crust Flavius had moved his bucellarii as well as every other cavalryman who had been placed behind the central ditch.
Timing was crucial and that was a decision which could only be made by the man on the spot. For Flavius it was more of a feeling than what he could discern visually, the point at which a commander senses the moment has arrived to act. The horns blew and the forward Roman screen swung their mounts, giving the impression they were abandoning the field. The effect on the enemy was instantaneous. The man Perozes had put in command sensed impending triumph and took some of the men driving forward, sending them to attack to their right, calling forward his light cavalry to provide support.
As they swung onto their new line of assault the heavy cavalry that Flavius Belisarius had spent years training came barrelling forward at a fast canter to hit an enemy not yet properly organised, it being a mixture of two different elements. The consequence was instantaneous as that part of the Sassanid force recoiled on their comrades. As the Roman heavy cavalry made inroads they were followed by a whole host of men on lighter mounts who got amongst their enemies and began to initiate carnage.
Armies can be like a single body in their minds; once a sense of panic arises it spreads quickly and that is what happened to the men Perozes commanded. Suddenly the Roman infantry contesting the central ditch saw the opposing line sway and seriously buckle as the Sassanids’ will to fight began to waver. To their left the whole attack had become a nightmare as Flavius Belisarius, having formed his bucellarii into an arrow formation, drove right through the rear of the Sassanids to cut the attackers off from support, before wheeling to drive them on the renewed assault of the men they had previously forced into a retreat.
With that stream at their back these Sassanids found themselves fighting on three fronts, their very numbers ceasing to be an advantage. Perozes did send men forward to try and break through but even his best cataphracts were faced by a body of men who could match them in battle, led by the Roman general who had engineered the downfall of his plan.
To the rear of those bucellarii the rest of the Romans were engaged in a massacre that turned that meandering stream a deep red, running through a gully rapidly choking up with bodies. Flavius knew he had won when he heard the enemy horns recalling the men he was fighting. Perozes was now engaged in seeking to limit the damage to the Sassanid army and in short order the enemy ceased to engage the bucellarii and abandoned the fight.
The slaughter went on as the light of the day faded. The citizens of Dara, keen that it should be complete, came forward with lit torches that ensured it did not cease, they too engaging in the killing of any of their enemies seeking to surrender, before stripping them naked so their womenfolk could mutilate them.
Flavius was back on his hillock, the clothing under his armour stiff with blood, watching the first Roman victory in decades as the men Kavadh had sent to take Dara were destroyed.
‘We have won a battle not a war.’
These words from the victorious Flavius Belisarius had not been an attempt to dampen celebrations but a mere statement of fact and that came true with a speed that surprised even him. By spring Kavadh had raised another army and sent it marching into Roman territory by a route never previously attempted. Entirely mounted they were now streaming along the banks of the Euphrates fifty leagues to the south of Dara.
There could be no immediate reaction, given there was suspicion it was a feint to draw the Romans away from their main base in order to denude it of a defence; Dara was still the key to holding the frontier but there were other fortress towns requiring garrisons that could not be moved so Flavius went to work to raise a force large enough to counter the threat, calling in contingents for all the territories he controlled. As the recently created magister militum per Orientem, he was now the undisputed military master in the region.
By the time it was decided this was a true incursion and dangerous, Flavius set off to counter it and if his intelligence was correct he outnumbered the enemy by a factor of just less than two to one. His forces were bolstered by five thousand Ghassanids, half mounted, half infantry, they a numerous frontier tribe often allied to Rome but just as ready to treat with Kavadh if that seemed wise and Constantinople appeared to be weak: after the victory at Dara they were sure they were now choosing the winning side.
Hermogenes had returned to the capital so he took with him Procopius who would act as his secretary as well as his quartermaster. The enemy commander this time was Azarethes, the senior military satrap of Kavadh, the most lauded general of the S
assanid Empire, who did not seem to be showing much in the way of guile or war craft.
Booty and sheer destruction seemed more important. He and his men were ravaging the rich and fecund Euphrates valley, burning crops, slaughtering cattle, killing the local citizenry and taking treasure. They had to be stopped and that ceased the moment Azarethes was appraised of the fact that the Romans were closing in on him and he was seriously outnumbered. He then began to retire towards the frontier.
Flavius Belisarius had force-marched to this point and he put on an extra spurt to get within a day’s march of his enemy, intent on forcing a battle, getting so close that the fires in the Sassanid camps of the previous day were still warm when the Romans came upon them.
Aware that he might struggle to get away, Azarethes decided to turn and fight at a place of his choosing, just to the east of a city called Callinicum, while Flavius came on and set up his camp within sight of the Sassanid fires. He then took a tour of the probable field of battle to formulate his plans. Never entirely happy to let others decide where to fight he was not disheartened by what he observed, even if Azarethes had chosen well, a plain with the River Euphrates on one flank and some high hills to the south that projected to his left. While not narrow, it was not a space in which the Romans could deploy their superiority to advantage.
The disposition of his troops conformed to the best way to use the terrain, which being flat between the river and the steep hills favoured a central attack by cavalry. The river flank Flavius would protect with infantry, while he took personal command in the centre with the mass of his horses, Lycaonians on his right and the mounted element of the Ghassanids holding the right flank. Again he wanted the Sassanids to attack him, which they might do given that if Azarethes tried to escape he faced the possibility of being caught by the pursuing Romans in open country where the numerical advantage would be decisive.
The victory at Dara had imbued the Romans with a feeling of invincibility, one their general did not share. He could not doubt their desire to get at the enemy and begin the task of destruction and nor could he fault it; it was the timing of such where commander and the troops he led disagreed. Flavius counselled patience, given it would be Easter Sunday on the morrow and that was a day of fast for Christians. It seemed folly to him to fight on an empty stomach in a battle that was probably going to last from dawn till dusk.
The disagreement, albeit infusing the ranks of his army, was presented to him by his inferior unit commanders and very forcibly so, his objections being seen as too cautious. On the march to catch Azarethes the Romans had, as they passed through the ravaged countryside, seen the destruction this invasion had caused: the men decapitated or swinging from trees, the despoiled women wailing over their loss. Children had been tossed on spears in a hideous sort of sport, while in every field lay dead livestock or burnt crops.
To their certainty of success was added their fury of grievance. These apostates must be punished, every man of them made to pay with their own blood for that which they had spilt in Roman territory and the notion of waiting a day for their justified revenge was anathema.
‘Is it not impious to fight on Easter Day, Magister?’
Procopius put forward this point in a break between conferences. Flavius had sent his captains to plead with their men to trust him; was he not the Victor of Dara and did he not know when to best bring about the destruction of Azarethes and his band of murderous marauders?
Flavius clutched at the notion. ‘Solomon, get men out to spread the word that it would be displeasing to God to so act vengefully on the day of his resurrection.’
If it seemed a good idea it fell on deaf ears; to the men he led it seemed Easter Day was as good as any other for slaughter and despite his reservations Flavius gave way on the grounds that, if he did not, some of his troops might decide to act independently and if they began to fight piecemeal it would be a disaster.
A plea to the accompanying priests to allow his men to eat ran into a religious hostility every bit as vehement as the lay one; this was the holiest day of the year and God could not be denied his fast under any circumstances.
‘Then God better be on hand to aid us,’ was the sour comment in response.
Naturally such a day began with a Mass all along the extended line, as his men, high and low and including himself, were shriven and promised that what sins they had committed in this life would be forgiven in the next for they were engaged upon God’s purpose. The priests were just as keen on retribution as the men over whom they prayed and it was made plain that in killing the Sassanids they would be doing holy work.
‘Odd word,’ Procopius whispered, more to himself than to Solomon kneeling beside him, ‘regarding a divinity who insisted we turn the other cheek.’
‘Hardly ever met a priest who knew truly the message of Jesus Christ. There are some good men who have become priests but too few. Most care more for their bellies than their faith.’
‘Best not let your master hear you say that, Domesticus. He’s a pious man.’
‘He’s too soft, Procopius. What happened was mutiny and he would have done best by stringing up a few and letting the rest wonder at sharing their fate.’
The trumpets blew to end the devotion and the army in their various dispositions turned from that to facing the enemy, who within a glass of sand set about them with a burst of arrow fire at a density few had previously experienced. Counter fire evened out the rate of casualties so Flavius could be reasonably happy that no sense of balance had been achieved – he still outnumbered Azarethes.
If he preferred the defensive, Flavius reasoned that with men who were going to be increasingly weakened from hunger, the longer the day went on the weaker they would become; best he launch an attack just in order to force a response. He was busy putting this in place when the discord on his right wing alerted him to a threat and had him riding hard to find out the cause.
It gave him no joy to observe that Azarethes had moved a huge number of his cavalry to the Roman right wing and attacked the Ghassanids. Even worse was to see that they were beginning to panic and their line was not going to hold, which would destroy that flank completely. That was spreading to the Lycaonians who were next to their left and that would result in half of his line being rolled up.
‘Solomon, get as many cavalry to this wing as you can, while I try to shore up the defence.’
‘Best send another, Magister. If you fall we are lost.’
‘If the Lycaonians give way I reckon us lost anyway, now go.’
Flavius and a small contingent of his bucellarii rode into what was the beginnings of a collapse and it was one at which he was at a loss to prevent. These mounted Ghassanids had not fought under him at Dara; the sight of him did not have the effect it would have had on the men he had led to victory, so his attempts to rally them failed. These were the men who had so wanted to fight. Now they desired nothing more than to set their mounts to the west and gallop to safety.
A messenger came to tell him the Lycaonian commanders, who had managed to keep their men in place, had both been killed. That gave him a feeling of dread; men rarely held their ground when they lost their leaders and that was the case now. If they went the Huns would be next and then the whole cavalry line would crumble, which would leave the infantry at the mercy of Azarethes.
If there is a moment when a general can sense victory then there is another that hints at defeat. Even worse is the feeling that can come which presages catastrophe, one only an arrogant numbskull would face up to and not react. Flavius recognised now that he very likely could not hold; fear would negate any generalship he could bring to bear, so the task was to avoid what had happened in his first battle.
There was only time to conclude that fact before the Lycaonians broke. Now they were following in the wake of the Ghassanids and there was no time to redeploy the rest of his light cavalry to face the coming threat, while his bucellarii were too few in number to fight on alone. This had him riding hard a
way from the mayhem around him to order his cavalry to quit the field, his own men included.
Collecting Procopius, he put Solomon in charge of getting his men out of danger, sweeping aside the suggestion that he too flee. The waggons that carried the Belisarius possessions and those of the men who attended to him were harnessed up and driven towards the river. Before he followed he ordered Solomon to get to Callinicum and make sure it could be held, dismounting and passing the reins to his domesticus.
‘Get every boat you can find and bring them upriver as soon as you can. If God has any mercy, you will find us still alive.’
There was no need to say who the ‘we’ were. The infantry could never outrun the Sassanid cavalry so their only one hope was to stand and fight with the river at their back and Flavius Belisarius was determined to lead that defence. Peter, the man who commanded the infantry, was from Justinian’s Excubitors. Flavius had no knowledge of his reading of history but he knew what to do for he had learnt much at the knee of his father.
‘Form the testudo. We do battle like the legions of old.’
Peter proved an asset, quick to follow orders and not one to waste time in asking for clarifications; he speedily had his men adopt the famous tortoise shape that gave them a round frontage and flat sides while Flavius organised the archers to take up a position in the centre of the protecting body and to be prepared to fire over their heads.
They got everything in place just in time; the first Sassanid attack came almost as they completed their dispositions. But with shields locked and nowhere to which they could run it was a hard defence to break and this time the Sassanids had no cataphracts in their force to make the needed breakthrough. Azarethes had only light horse, and faced with a wall of shields and protruding spears, as well as slashing swords if they got too close, the attackers were driven off a dozen times.
Being spring the heat was tolerable and there was no shortage of water. The fight went on all through the day, but what was running short was arrows as the archers sent salvo after salvo into the advancing ranks of Sassanid cavalry to break their organisation. In attack after attack the horsemen hit the shield wall piecemeal and with a lack of coordination. By twilight the arrows were exhausted, but so were the Sassanids, while the boats Solomon had organised began to arrive.