‘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.