‘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.’
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The old man was wrong; dawn brought the first movement of the day, a feint on the Roman right then another on the left as Perozes sought to get a sense of the Belisarius plan and some notion of how quickly he could shore up sections of his defence. Not that he saw anything; Flavius declined to move any of his units, content to wait until actual contact and some kind of pressed-home attack before he would react. Once more the morning passed without much further activity.
Nor did the Sassanid commander achieve his other purpose, which was to provoke an attack, to draw Flavius Belisarius into the chance of quick victory while the forces were evenly matched. Sat on the same hillock, with a good view of the gentle slope that trended away to the flat plain to the south, he had a better view of the Sassanid dispositions and movements than Perozes had of his, so he felt it safe to be passive.
The next event was an entertaining commonplace and came after the Sassanids had taken their afternoon nourishment; an unarmoured, well-built rider came forward to challenge Flavius Belisarius to personal combat without weapons, in order that battle could be avoided and the matter could be decided without an unnecessary effusion of blood.
Flavius sent forward his chosen champion to meet the one picked by Perozes, a Greek called Andreas, probably the strongest individual in his army and a noted wrestler who had never been known to lose a contest. Soon every man in either army was craning to see the outcome of the bout, one that lasted such a little time that it brought forth groans from the audience — the breaking of the neck by Andreas was too swift.
Perozes sent forth a second fellow, or maybe he had volunteered and he lasted even less time than the first, allowing the Greek to bare his arse to the Sassanids while simultaneously acknowledging the cheers of his comrades. Next came a well-accoutred rider with the Perozes banner and a letter to which Hermogenes, being the most literate, replied, declining the invitation to quit the battlefield and admit defeat, instead, in flowery terms suggesting Perozes, clearly at a loss to break the Roman resolve, take his army back to Nisibis.
‘His reinforcements must be close,’ Flavius said as he signed what the older man had dictated to Procopius.
‘Does Your Honour know how many?’ asked the writer.
‘More than he has now — double, maybe treble.’
‘Why not bring them all at once?’
‘You ask too many questions, Procopius.’
‘Not for me, Hermogenes. I wish some of the men I led would ask more.’
‘Would you answer them?’
That got a very wide grin. ‘Not always. I would avoid anything my enemy might want to know.’
‘And mine?’ said Procopius.
‘Perozes hoped I would seek to take advantage of his lack of strength. He wants that I take the initiative and launch an assault.’
‘Would that not serve?’
‘Possession of the field is not enough and we hold it. Perozes cannot take Dara unless he crushes us so comprehensively that the fortress is denied a defence. Even if we did attack and succeed he would be back here with twice the numbers in days and we would have bled men and horses for nothing.’
The scouts came in overnight to confirm what was suspected; a huge force was on the way to join Perozes, more than double his present strength. There would be no more feints once they were deployed; these were the anvil on which the Sassanids intended to wreck the Roman defence, a point he made to his assembled inferior commanders.
‘The last two days have been about our resolve. Perozes wasn’t sure if the dispositions we made were bluff or if we were determined to save Dara from without the walls and prevent a siege. Now he knows that is the case and his needs are obvious. We must be swept aside and he wants no pursuit to the city gates so he will seek to get behind us by breaking one of the flanks.’
‘We stand where we are,’ Hermogenes added, to shore up his own standing.
‘Now you must be told how we plan to thwart them,’ Flavius said with a gesture to include Hermogenes, which brought a wry grin to the man’s face: any plan to be followed was not his. That smile stayed with him as Belisarius outlined what each commander must do and what he wanted to achieve, concluding with a warning.
‘We must look to the point in the battle were Perozes has made a full commitment. Then I will know how to react, but each of you must be prepared to obey what I have just set out. Do not think to make decisions on your own that go counter to my instructions.’ Bouzes got a hard and meaningful look. ‘I have suffered one lost battle through insubordination, I do not intend that I should lose this one to the same fault.’