‘I have carried out a calculation,’ Procopius said, producing a scroll which he opened on his lap. That fluttered in the welcome breeze coming in through the open cabin shutters, it still being hot. ‘Based on what we know of Vandal numbers.’
‘Not a great deal, I suspect.’
‘More, possibly, than you think, General. They have a well-stocked library in Syracuse and I went there to see what I could find, and I found books, mostly Greek but quite a lot of Roman as well, a lot of them military histories going back to and beyond Caesar’s Commentaries.’
‘I’m impressed.’
‘Better still, those who first treated with them in North Africa wrote accounts of the difficulties and I found one that sought to assess their population when they departed Hispania and arrived in Africa at some sixty thousand souls.’
That got an appreciative nod from his employer; Procopius was carrying out calculations that were of some importance and ones that had not even occurred to him.
‘Prior to the last migration they were at war with every one of their neighbours as well as Rome, so were much diminished by casualties in battle. In North Africa they have had peace at home excepting some losses in their piracy. But they have been settled for some time, inhabiting a fertile province which provides them with ample food so they should have procreated by some measure.’
Antonina, who had been walking, taking air on the deck, entered the cabin as Procopius was talking and, waving a fan to ward off the heat, she threw herself on a divan, her eyes on him, her expression a frown directed towards the seated secretary.
‘So you think they will have increased in numbers?’ Flavius enquired.
‘I do, but a figure of double their previous strength is only a guess.’
‘War is that in a lot of ways.’
‘Take out the elderly, the women and children and accept what our ship’s master says about everyone being a warrior and at my reckoning we face at worst some thirty thousand warriors in total.’
‘Less the men sent to Sardinia.’
‘Which still leaves them numerically superior.’
Antonina spoke up, her tone firm. ‘Then it comes down, Procopius, to who is the better general.’
‘Who has the better army, surely,’ her husband corrected her, with a kindly look that earned him a very brief scowl. ‘So it will have to be us.’
‘Anything else?’ Antonina asked, though it was far from her place to do so. ‘I have invited the comitatus officers to dine with us and the cabin must be got ready.’
‘Again?’ This Flavius said with just a trace of impatience and one that was brushed aside.
‘How else are we to entertain ourselves, Husband?’
About to respond with a salacious remark Flavius had to bite his tongue. Procopius was still present and he spoke again, his face pinched.
‘I have drafted for your approval a final despatch to the Emperor.’
Antonina sat forward then. ‘I will have a letter for Theodora to go with it.’
‘I’m sure you will,’ Procopius responded in a sour way that made Antonina bridle.
‘What do you mean by that?’
‘I don’t understand,’ the secretary replied in an unconvincing aside as he stood up, laying the scroll on the desk. ‘It’s an innocent remark.’
‘I do not like your tone.’
‘Antonina, please,’ Flavius said in a firm voice. ‘Fetch the draft, Procopius, and we shall go over it together, which will give you, my dear, time to use our private quarters to compose the letter you wish to send.’
Antonina did not budge until Procopius was gone. ‘You overindulge that fellow. I have said it before and it is worthy of repetition.’
Flavius left his chair and came to sit beside her. ‘He does his job well and he does not steal.’
‘He does not show you sufficient respect. What is he doing sitting in your presence?’
‘I invited him to do so.’
‘As I said, overindulged.’
She exited, leaving Flavius to contemplate the problem of the mutual hostility between his secretary and his wife, which if it was awkward in itself was made ten times worse by being cooped up in the ship. This abrasion had manifested itself not long after leaving Constantinople and it had not abated since, if anything it had got worse, the only relief being when Procopius was absent at Syracuse.
He was a tidy fellow, evidenced by his own cubicle in which he both worked and slept. Procopius had a desk in which his writing equipment was neatly arranged and so were his possessions and it was known to Flavius they were not rendered so by his servant. His attention to detail was reflected in everything he did.
It would be unfair to suggest Antonina was the opposite but she was one to leave things to be cleaned up after her, which they were. The Belisarius servants, of which there were many thanks to her presence, were competent. The truth was they were chalk and cheese and he was caught in the middle. He had no desire to play the master with Procopius and no chance of doing so with his wife.
Thank God they would soon be ashore.
The day came when these red-striped sails were raised to take the northerly wind and for the ship commanded by Calonymus to lead the argosy south-west past the islands of Malta and Gozo, on to tiny Lampedusa where the water was replenished, before finally sighting the coast of Africa within the confines of a single day. The shore was far enough off their quarter to be just visible as a streak on the horizon, which Flavius wished maintained. Before the final dash to shore he called all his commanders to join him aboard his ship for a conference.
‘You may have wondered why I have left it so late to say what I intend. Do not think I insult you when I say wagging tongues can do us much damage. The information I have tells me we are not expected by the Vandals but that is the word of one man, recently a visitor to Carthage but no soldier, though I will say I believe what he told me. My silence was a mere precaution to maintain what I hope is the true situation.’
He reminded them that another Roman expedition had been destroyed very close by where they lay, nearly a hundred years previously, and in reading of that campaign he had seen several things that needed to be altered to avoid the failure that was their lot.
‘We shall not reside aboard our vessels for a moment longer than is necessary, which will ease discomfort. More than that, it gives our enemies a chance to attack us, which they will certainly take in a situation where they would have the advantage. Well-manned ships, more manoeuvrable than our transports, and the time to choose a propitious moment.’
Valerianus, the general who commanded the praesental infantry, spoke up to say he was sure they could beat the enemy off.
‘At what cost, Valerianus? I have no idea of the size of their fleet and I would hazard I am not alone. Apart from a battle I have no desire to fight, we risk bad weather as well, but that is not why I wish to rapidly disembark. If our presence is unknown it will not remain so. A fleet this size cannot beat up and down off the coast without word getting to our enemies, if only from fishermen. If we anchor inshore the same applies and it seems to me if there is Vandal ignorance we must move swiftly to take advantage of it.’
It was necessary with men of this calibre to pause and let them acknowledge the acceptance of his points, one being that whatever forces the Vandals possessed must of necessity at present be dispersed.