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 away 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.