For a time, it had seemed that Africa could be reunited with the Empire without a blow being struck. The Vandal king, Hilderic — grandson of Gaiseric the conqueror of Roman Africa — had, probably on account of his Roman ancestry of which he was inordinately proud, adopted a remarkably pro-Roman stance, favouring an alliance with the Empire, combined with a hostile stance towards the Ostrogoth regime in Italy. He had even abandoned his Arian faith to become a Catholic. (His mother Eudocia, daughter of the West Roman emperor Valentinian III, was part of the booty which Gaiseric had brought back to Carthage after sacking Rome; subsequently, she had married Gaiseric’s son, Hilderic being their offspring.)
All that had changed recently, however. Disgusted with Hilderic and his cosying-up to Rome, the Vandal nobility — anti-Roman to a man — had rebelled, overthrowing Hilderic and replacing him with his cousin, Gelimer, a man after their own heart. Justinian had intervened diplomatically on behalf of his now-imprisoned friend, only to receive a sharp rebuff from Gelimer. No question now of a friendly Africa becoming a launch-pad for an invasion of Italy. On the pretext of restoring Hilderic, the Vandal kingdom must be conquered first. And who better to carry out this task, thought Justinian, than Belisarius — the brilliant young general whose initiative and loyalty had been crucial in ending the Nika affair. Now that peace had broken out with Persia, the emperor lost no time in recalling Belisarius from the eastern frontier.
‘This time, my friend, we shall succeed,’ declared Justinian warmly, clapping Belisarius on the shoulder. The two were standing on the Palace walls, looking down on the fleet (which had just been blessed by old Epiphanius, the Patriarch) anchored in the Harbour of Hormisdas on the Sea of Marmara. The mighty armada consisted of five hundred ships, four-fifths of them transports, the rest dromons — sleek war-galleys armed with deadly rams; aboard were sixteen thousand soldiers, plus thirty thousand sailors and marines. Neither man needed any reminder that the last attempt to liberate Roman Africa from the Vandals — sixty-five years previously — had ended in disaster, bankrupting both empires, and precipitating the fall of the Western one, a mere eight years later.
‘On the last occasion, Serenity,’ commented Belisarius, ‘Basiliscus dithered; some say he was bribed by Gaiseric to do so — anyway, long enough for the wind to change and pin his fleet against a rocky promontory. Then, when the the Vandals sent in fireships. .’ Belisarius shrugged expressively, then went on with a grin, ‘Don’t worry, Serenity, I’m not about to make the same mistake. A beach-head landing on an occupied coast is a notoriously difficult operation to pull off successfully. But thanks to your brilliant undercover work in Sardinia,* Serenity, I’ve a good chance of disembarking the army unopposed.’
Setting sail almost exactly eighteen months after the ending of the Nika Riots, and assisted by fair winds, the fleet progressed in stately fashion over the Aegean, around the Peloponnese, then across an unaccustomedly calm Ionian Sea, to make landfall south of Tauromenium** in Sicily, to take on water. It also took on fresh food, for many of the men had fallen sick from eating mouldy biscuit, issued (for profiteering reasons) by a reinstated John of Cappadocia.
While supplies were being loaded onto the ships lying off the beach, an important intelligence mission was entrusted to none other than Procopius. Unsuspected by Justinian of any treachery, and standing high in the emperor’s favour, the ambitious young lawyer and aspiring writer had managed to secure for himself the post of military historian for the expedition. Meeting up with a merchant friend in Syracuse, a man with a web of contacts throughout the Mediterranean, Procopius learned from him that the Vandals had not the slightest inkling of Belisarius’ expedition; in consequence, their fleet was still tied up in Sardinian waters. (Before leaving Syracuse to rejoin Belisarius, Procopius arranged with his friend — for a sum — that a message be despatched to Carthage. .)
On receiving Procopius’ report, Belisarius — overjoyed by his good fortune, and impressed by the efficiency of the expedition’s historian — sailed immediately for Africa via Malta, making landfall at Caput Vada,† a bleak and lonely headland some five days’ journey to the south of Carthage. Here, thanks to the general’s discipline and organization, the huge and complex task of disembarking thousands of men and horses proceeded smoothly. Once ashore, Belisarius addressed the army, warning the men against doing anything that might alienate the natives. A friendly population would, he pointed out, prove an enormous asset to the Romans in the imminent trial of strength. No sooner had the general dismissed the troops and stepped down from his tribunal, than a scout on a lathered mount came posting in from the north.
Africa and Italy during the Vandal and Gothic Wars, AD 533-52
‘Sir,’ gasped the man, dismounting before Belisarius, ‘the Vandals have got wind of your arrival. Gelimer has ordered Hilderic be put to death, and is even now advancing against you with three great armies!’
* But only for a few years. When it reopened, the Green and Blue factions were soon as belligerent as ever, and continued to foment riots periodically.
* The Buddha.
* Secret agents sent by Justinian had stirred up a revolt by the native Romans against the island’s Vandal occupiers, prompting Gelimer to send his fleet to Sardinian waters to put down the insurrection.
** Taormina. Diplomatic negotiations with the Ostrogoth regime in advance had secured landing rights for the fleet.
† Ras Kaboudia.
FOURTEEN
Only in states in which the power of the people is supreme, has liberty any abode
Blinking in the bright African sunlight as, in the wake of his Berber guide, he emerged from the darkness of the tunnel, Procopius gasped at the sight that met his eyes: a vast elliptical arena, encircled by tiers of marble seating soaring to a height of a hundred feet or more. At the far end of the amphitheatre,* nearly a hundred and fifty yards away, a figure, flanked by standing spearmen, sat in the podium, a raised platform reserved for aristocratic spectators, access to which could be gained only from the exterior of the building. Accompanied by the guide and Aigan — captain of the Hun contingent serving in Belisarius’ army — as well as some Huns to act as porters, Procopius advanced towards the podium. As he walked, Procopius remembered a conversation with Anicius Julianus, a little over a year and a half before. .
Responding to a summons from Julianus immediately following the failure of the Nika revolt, Procopius found the senator in his villa, surrounded by trunks and packing-cases.
‘Forgive the confusion, dear boy,’ said Julianus, sounding remarkably unperturbed considering the circumstances. ‘But tempus fugit, as they say, and my ship for Italy awaits the tide.’ He handed the lawyer a brimming goblet. ‘Nomentan — a reasonable vintage. I’ve several amphorae of the stuff in my cellars. I recommend you help yourself — before John of Cappadocia’s henchmen arrive to confiscate it. Well, to proceed in medias res, as Horace puts it. Regarding Nika — we may have lost the battle, but not, perhaps, the war. At stake is an issue the import of which could not be greater. It is this: unless he can be checked, Justinian will be disastrous for the Empire. Already, his policies, driven by blind ambition verging on paranoia, have brought the state to the verge of ruin. If prosecuted, his plan to reconquer the West from the barbarians will complete that process.’
‘But the restoration of the Roman Empire in its entirety; is that really such a bad thing?’