‘Perhaps the conqueror of Africa has lost his nerve?’ Uttered in tones of sneering mock politeness, the taunt came from a vicarius noted for his surliness, but who hitherto would not have dared to question the decisions of his commanding officer. The intervention of Narses, acting like some malign alchemy, had somehow changed all that, Belisarius felt. His old, easy authority had now been challenged and might not be easily regained.
‘That was uncalled for,’ rapped out Narses, subjecting the vicarius to a disapproving stare. ‘Let us have no more such aspersions. By falling out we simply play into the hands of the Goths. A disagreement as to tactics should not lead to rolling in the mud.’ Turning to Belisarius he said, ‘However, General, I think you should reconsider your decision to recall John from Ariminum, and instead relieve the place.’
‘Oh you do, do you?’ declared Belisarius, nettled. ‘Perhaps you’re forgetting, Narses, who is in overall command here.’
‘My commission indeed states that I owe obedience to yourself,’ replied the other smoothly. He paused, then added, giving the words a quiet emphasis, ‘- as far as may be advantageous to the public service. It is not my wish to embarrass you before your officers, Belisarius,’ he went on, ‘but I must insist on your compliance in this matter.’
Belisarius felt betrayed and humiliated, sick at heart — as though someone had kicked him violently in the stomach. But the rider to Narses’ commission, though imprecise, was unequivocal. The interpretation as to what constituted ‘advantageous’ lay with the Armenian. Justinian at least had made that clear. His loyalty to his emperor winning out over his sense of hurt and anger, Belisarius heard himself declare, ‘Very well, General — as soon as we disperse, I shall begin my preparations for the relief of Ariminum.’
From Procopius Caesariensis, Chronicler, to Anicius Julianus, Senator, greetings.
Dear ‘Cato’, your plan to have ‘Catullus’ persuade J. to send Narses to the aid of B. has succeeded beyond expectations! N.’s arrival has really set the cat among the pigeons; to mix my metaphors, the general staff here are fighting like ferrets in a sack — some supporting B., some N. In consequence, the Golden Boy’s lustre is now badly tarnished; he’s had to give way to N. (who has our Dear Leader’s ear, it would seem), and lead a force to Ariminum to relieve John ‘the Sanguinary’. (Honestly — the names these Germans give themselves; he’s the nephew of General Vitalian, a Goth who, you’ll remember better than myself, once tried to bring down Emperor Anastasius, then threw his hat in the ring when the old man became a god, as we used to say.) How odd that B. and N. should, thus far, be acting against type — N. all for pushing on, B. for holding back. Unfortunately, B. performed quite brilliantly at Ariminum — quite his old dashing self — and forced Witigis to call off the siege.
Though far from being finished, Witigis has rather gone to pieces since being forced to pull back from Rome. You know these barbarians — easily demoralized when things go wrong. His judgement’s been affected; in a fit of furor Teutonicus he’s had some important Roman hostages killed — a batch of senators he’s been carting around with him as a sort of mobile insurance policy. Which is bad news for us as, predictably, Roman opinion is hardening against the Goths. That venerable old Roman, Cassiodorus, has even resigned in protest from his post of Secretary to the Gothic Council. He’s what you’d call a ‘national treasure’, so unfortunately his opinion carries considerable clout throughout Italy.
News just in — Mediolanum* is in Roman hands once more. Without consulting N. (which means he’s in hot water again), B. sent a seaborne column up the west coast to Liguria, to harry the Goths from the rear. Though little more than a reconnaissancein-force, they’ve managed to capture Italy’s second city without a blow being struck. It seems the citizens — inflamed by the anti-Gothic feeling sweeping Italy thanks to the murder of those senators — threw open the gates to them. Witigis is reported to be furious, breathing fire and slaughter and denouncing the Mediolanese as traitors (against Goths?). With the help of a Frankish army from Gaul (what’s he playing at? — the Franks are simply looking for an excuse to extend their territory), he’s now besieged the place, vowing to put all inside to the sword. So perhaps Golden Boy has bitten off more than he can chew; let’s hope so.
‘Horatius’ knows to collect this from the drop-off point — by the Arch of Trajan near the waterfront. A short trip for him; your base at Fanum’s not thirty miles up the road from here. Vale.
Written at the Praetorium of Ancona, IV Kalendas Augusti, A.R.U.C. the two hundred and ninth.**
Post Scriptum
Narses’ Heruls are a gift — picking endless fights with B.’s Greeks, whom they regard as a bunch of softies. The centenarii* have their hands full keeping the two lots apart. Ferocious fighters the Heruls may be, but in combined operations they’re a total liability, refusing to obey orders from any officers other than their own. What fun!
‘I hear you’ve given orders for a relieving force to set out for Mediolanum!’ Narses accused Belisarius as the two generals, followed by their staff, filed into the officers’ mess in Ancona — now the permanent headquarters of the Roman Army in Italy.
‘The city must be relieved, Narses — its people are starving; we can’t not help.’ Taking his place beside the Armenian at the dinner table, Belisarius went on, a note of desperate appeal entering his voice. ‘Surely you can see that. We can’t allow the place to fall — especially as Witigis has threatened to massacre the inhabitants. I assumed I could take your permission for granted when I gave the order. If, by omitting to do so I’ve given offence, then I apologize.’
‘Your conduct goes beyond a mere breach of good manners, Belisarius,’ replied the Armenian in coldly formal tones. ‘In matters of strategic planning I insist on being consulted. You will cancel the order immediately.’
‘But — by now the expedition will be nearing Sena Gallica!’ cried Belisarius disbelievingly.
‘A mere twenty miles; send a fast rider to recall them.’
‘This is intolerable!’ shouted Belisarius, giving way to a rare burst of fury. ‘Only months ago, you insisted — against my judgement — that I relieve Ariminum. Now, you try to stop me doing the same for Mediolanum. I’m beginning to think, Narses, that this is more about personal animosity towards myself, than anything to do with military requirements.’
Casual conversation around the table died away into fascinated silence, as the other officers became aware of the spat developing between their two commanders.
‘That’s rubbish, and you know it,’ replied the other evenly. ‘By relieving Ariminum we not only retained the initiative, we were able to push forward our front line. With Mediolanum, the situation’s completely different. The place is two hundred miles north-west from here. To hang on to it, we’d have to stretch our lines of communication to breaking-point. In effect, it would mean having to start up a second front.’
‘So much for your theory of Blitzkrieg,’ retorted Belisarius bitterly.
‘Now you’re being deliberately obtuse,’ sighed Narses. ‘Lighting war involves pushing forward from an already advancing front. Until we’ve consolidated our position in Central Italy — Auximum and Faesulae* especially, need to be reduced — that won’t be possible.’