‘Gentleman,’ Hermogenes added. ‘I suggest rest, ready for the exertions of tomorrow.’
Sleep being impossible Flavius once more went through the lines, with one eye cast towards the many more numerous fires now dotting the site of the Sassanid camp. This time he was greeted by men who had come to know him and an army that had been well catered for in both food and equipment, the credit belonging to Hermogenes and his able assistants, though Flavius took it anyway rather than seek to explain.
If some of the talk with the Huns and Heruls was stilted by dint of their indifferent Latin there was bond enough between cavalrymen to make for friendly exchanges. Promises of hard fighting went down well, for these men were mercenaries and they lived for combat. As the sky began to grey he passed through the lines of the mainly slumbering bucellarii, men who had served with him for years now so when he did exchange words with the sentinels it was like talking to old friends.
These were the fighters he was going to have to rely on, the body that he hoped would strike the killer blow that ended the Sassanid attempt on Dara; if they failed so would he. And before that what he had planned must come to pass, which even the dimmest soldier knew was not always the case. Back at his tent Solomon was waiting with bread and cheese laid out as well as a goblet of spiced wine.
‘I never thought to sense it again, having laid aside my weapons.’
‘Join me, Solomon, in asking that God grant us the chance to experience it many times in the future.’
Praying, Flavius had no idea of the supplications made by his domesticus. He was, as usual, invoking the memory of his father and brothers, and while seeking repose for their souls, he also wished for their good opinion and that his thinking be guided by their celestial hand. Was it a response from God that the walls of the tent shook? If that were the case then it was a message sustained as the wind began to blow steadily and strongly from the north.
Dawn brought the sound of horns and daylight exposed the level of movement as well as the vastly superior numbers now deployed to attack. Mounted and back on his slight hillock he and Solomon were joined by Hermogenes and Procopius, who asked to be allowed to observe the battle from this vantage point.
‘By all means, and let us hope that when you come to write your letter to a certain person in Constantinople it is a joyful one.’
The man did not blush as he might, given Flavius was hinting he suspected Procopius to be an emissary from Justinian sent to observe and report privately on both he and Hermogenes. This was a supposition arrived at because, having watched him over weeks now, the man was too skilled and too sure of himself for the position he held.
The sound of hooves took his attention and he showed some irritation that Pharas, leader of the Heruls, had left his station between the infantry and the cavalry led by Bouzes. He was greeted with a frown, one that quickly evaporated when he made his quietly delivered suggestion of how and where his men could be better deployed.
‘It fits with your plan, Flavius Belisarius,’ he added softly, ‘but I hope improves it. If I have overstepped the line, I apologise.’
‘Move your men, Pharas.’ Flavius issued another order after only a moment’s consideration. ‘And tell Bouzes to extend his front to cover your absence.’
Realising he had not done Hermogenes the courtesy of inclusion — the older man had not even heard the exchange — he turned to him looking apologetic, to receive in response an immediate and reassuring affirmation.
‘A tactical alteration, perhaps?’ Flavius nodded. ‘Such a decision falls within your competence, not mine.’
A gesture sent Pharas on his way, with Flavius moving his horse close to that of the Hermogenes to impart in the same quiet tone his exchange with the Herul. ‘They are hardy fighters and I trust Pharas to do as he has outlined.’
‘Meaning you would not trust another?’
‘I best speak with Bouzes.’
The dux Phoenicia was not happy about the extension of his line, given it thinned out the forces he needed to repel an assault by the Sassanid cataphracts. Tempted to include him in what Pharas intended, Flavius demurred. He would act more properly in ignorance.
‘You will do well, I am sure. Emulate your father, who would have relished to be here today.’ Flavius looked skywards. ‘His gaze will be upon you, I’m sure.’
‘My whole family will be looking down on me!’ came the crabbed response, which got a sharp rejoinder.
‘No doubt to ensure you act according to my orders.’
The sound of the enemy horns cut off any response and had Flavius spurring back to his position in time to see the Sassanid horse archers deploy against Bouzes. He hoped this was no diversion but an assault Perozes would push to its limit. Behind the archers came a whole host of running men, infantry with large shields and behind them even more carrying long lengths of freshly cut boards, wide enough for a horse and rider and slatted for purchase.
Yet more followed with the shovels which would be employed to take out the leading edge of the ditch. Well to their rear sat the heavy cavalry, the sun glinting on their polished armour, waiting for the time when they could cross that obstacle and get at the enemy.
The archers were less effective than previously, given the strength of the opposing wind — it was blowing right into their faces — and this time they were clearly under instruction to press home and provide cover for the non-combatant diggers, all of whom had begun a furious assault on the soft and yielding earth that formed the outer bank of the ditch, their heads covered from counter arrow fire by a wall of held-aloft shields.
‘The horse archers are suffering so that the work of destruction can proceed,’ Flavius explained, when again Procopius asked for clarification. ‘They do not often stay to take casualties and also they are less fluid in the role they have been given. Once enough damage has been done to our works then they will withdraw. It will be time then for the heavy cavalry to join in the fight.’
‘Can our men not cross the ditch and drive the diggers off?’
‘No, Procopius, they can’t. They have orders to stay, for if they break their line it will never be put back together again.’
The Sassanids were making rapid progress, as the edge of the ditch turned from a wall into a slope. Perozes seemed to have an inexhaustible supply of horse archers for as one numerus dispersed, their quivers used up, another came to take its place. They were drawing so much counter fire that a message came to the hillock to tell Flavius his archers were running out of arrows.
‘Tell them to desist and save some for what is yet to come.’
Such a decision allowed the spade men to work with impunity and that sped their progress. They soon had what they wanted, a traversable incline the horsemen could use to get at Bouzes and his men. Now the task was to get those wide boards forward to the other side and jammed into the rear wall and that required another level of protection.
‘Cataphracts,’ pointed out Hermogenes quietly as the armoured warriors, so numerous they must constitute the entire Sassanid force at the disposal of Kavadh, began to advance.
Flavius had seen the movement and he had also seen the spade men discard their tools and take up their boards, to then kneel behind a wall of shields and wait for their premium fighting men. At a command they opened ranks and the cataphracts set their horses at the slope, the first line slithering down the newly dug and loose surface to cross to the rear and engage the Romans, who were well above their heads.
It was admirable if troubling the way they created the gaps needed to get those wide gangways laid, just as it was to see how quickly a second line of horsemen took advantage of this to get to their enemies on even ground, clattering up the wooden boards and pressing forward using their horse and human armour to avoid being checked. So heavy was that linked metal it afforded few gaps by which an assailant could land a telling blow, even the faces and chests of the horses had a layer of metal, with only their eyes showing. Yet press as they did it seemed they made little progress.