‘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 supply 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.
‘A gesture, no more,’ Hermogenes suggested. ‘The light is fading.’
‘If I die in the battle,’ Flavius responded with a sigh, ‘it could be of boredom.’
‘I think you may have a warmer day tomorrow.’