by Jack Ludlow
In reality, what Flavius was trying to avoid was back-stabbing correspondence being sent back to the capital, this from his inferior commanders seeking to undermine him in the search of advancement for their own careers, a commonplace in the imperial army. Every letter from such creatures was far from a report on matters as they happened and nor were they the truth: they were political statements and too often a tissue of inventions. Yet such missives could do much damage and Flavius wanted none of it, and eventually Justinian gave way.
Apart from inferior officers and the men he had already led into battle, Flavius required a secretary and that led to an interview with Procopius. Ever since Dara the man had been a constant in the Belisarius life, always seeming to be close by, full of praise for a man he saw as a brilliant general, yet with wit enough to puncture anything that smacked of vanity.
In enquiring about him Flavius had found that he was a native of Caesarea and had studied law, coming to Constantinople with a glittering reputation. He was a fine speaker and had proved at Dara an able assistant to Hermogenes, who had trusted Procopius enough to give him many of the duties that fell to the older man, tasks in which peculation would have been easy. Hermogenes was of the opinion Procopius had not mislaid as much as a solidus.
Also, the suspicion that he had been in correspondence with Justinian seemed to have been mistaken. That he wrote to someone Flavius was sure, but having mentioned Procopius to the Emperor the response, that he had no idea of whom his friend was talking about, seemed genuine, Theodora likewise, and hints to certain court officials convinced him that the aide to Hermogenes was not a familiar figure either in the palace or the offices of state. Fiscal honesty was important and as to wealth, success in North Africa would take care of that; it was the other matter that required clarification.
‘Tell me, Procopius, who did you write to from Dara? At first I thought it might be the Emperor but that I now know is not the case. But you did correspond with someone of standing.’
‘What point would there be in denying it, General? I was charged to give my views to a certain person, a powerful person, and I did so. My loyalty to that commission forbids me from naming him but I can say if you read my letters you might be brought to the blush.’
‘I need a secretary as well as an assessor, and an efficient one. You proved yourself that at Dara. But I also need utter loyalty. I know you to be the former but I wonder at the latter.’
‘What words could I use that would overcome any doubts. I will say that I am happy to serve you, and flattered as well. If I take the offer I will bind myself to you and your future to the exclusion of all else.’
Flavius was looking him right in the eye and Procopius did not blink or seek to avoid the contact. ‘Let me think on it, I will let you know in the morning.’
‘Not now?’
That got a slight smile. ‘Do you not know me yet, Procopius? I do not make instant decisions.’
It was Antonina that really fixed matters, when the subject was raised in post-coital murmurs. ‘He worships you, can you not see that, Flavius?’
‘Worships?’
‘You do not see the way he gazes upon you when you are not looking, but I do. If he is a lover of men I would say he was enamoured of you.’
‘He’s not, is he?’
That got her up on an elbow and looking down at him with shaking head. ‘Only you would be in ignorance of his desires.’
‘I have no ignorance of yours and they please me.’ That got him a poke in the ribs. ‘Is Procopius …?’ Typical of the upright Roman he could not bring himself to say the words, only to wave a wrist.
‘I would say he has a Roman name and Greek leanings. Do you not find that you come across him frequently?’
Thinking on it, Flavius could see that Antonina might be right; there was a prissy quality to Procopius, an excessive tidiness and a manner that placed great store in things being right. Recalling him at Dara there had been those endless questions, which might in the light of Antonina’s opinions appear more like attention seeking than genuine enquiry. And it was true; Procopius had seemed to be around too many times for it to be coincidence.
‘Perhaps I should fear to be alone with him.’
‘Then you will not mind that Theodora has insisted I accompany you to Africa.’
‘What!’
‘Does such a prospect alarm you?’
‘You cannot come on campaign, Antonina.’
‘Because it’s dangerous?’
‘That and the distraction of worrying about your safety.’
‘Safety? I look forward to you telling Theodora, which will be full of risk. You might have bested Justinian in the article of who you will take as officers, but she is a tougher nut than he.’
‘But do you want to accompany me?’
‘I certainly don’t want to be left here when you are gone.’
A hand cupped her breast, ‘Then Theodora can have her wish.’
‘And Procopius?’
‘Him too. What he is matters as nothing against what he can do.’
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The organisation necessary to prepare and carry an army across five hundred leagues of sea was vast and complex, made more so by the sheer number of horses required and these had to be of the right type for both fighting and carrying for, once ashore in North Africa, everything might have to be transported by hoof.
The bucellarii required heavier mounts than contingents like the Huns and Heruls. They, like the Roman cavalry who would make up the bulk of the force, required fleet ponies and not only those they already possessed. Both types required enough spares to account for losses to illness, accidents at sea, breakdown by overuse and casualties in battle. These animals also required a massive quantity of feed and grooms to care for them, adding to the burden of transport.
In numbers, if the expanded comitatus of Flavius was included – they now mustered seven numerus of three hundred men each – he was to lead an army of near seventeen thousand effectives, accompanied by all the necessary support arms to ensure against failure: armourers, carpenters, cooks, servants and sutlers.
He took from the barracks at Galatea six hundred Huns led by a chieftain called Blasas, a noted warrior said to be utterly fearless in battle, as well as Pharas and the three hundred Heruls he commanded, men who had been so effective at Dara. From Thrace came a strong contingent of Gepid foederati, one part of which Flavius gave to Solomon to command. He was no longer just his domesticus, he was now a fully committed soldier and leader. Ten thousand infantry and half that number of cavalry from the praesental army of the Emperor were marching to meet him at Methone in Thessaloniki under a general called Valerianus, the man who would be his second in command.
Transport to the North African shore required over five hundred vessels and while the transports carrying humans could be packed full of men, the same could not be applied to equines. They required special stalls to be built, with strapping that would keep them from falling in heavy seas, and they had to be exercised on the decks as often as the weather permitted.
The ships were manned by thirty thousand sailors and the provincial seaports had been combed to gather those with the necessary skills as well as the man who could command such a huge fleet, which was now crowded in two deep bays and loading stores. In addition there would be an escort of a hundred warships, single-deck galleys with fighting men at the oars to protect the transports in a sea that suffered much from piracy.
Flavius would be aboard one of the larger vessels and so that everyone should know where their general was in such a vast argosy he had his sails and those of the ships carrying his staff dyed with red stripes. He also worked out a special arrangement of lanterns that, set on the upper mast, would identify their leader at night. Unintended dispersal had to be avoided, though, as was common, they would rarely be out of sight of land.
To supply and keep fed such a force required skills that had nothing to do with fighting; Flavius recruited
Archelaus, acknowledged as the best quartermaster in the empire and it was he who arranged for the necessary horses to be gathered from the imperial Thracian herds and brought to the port of Abydos. He also had to fetch to the embarkation ports food and wine as well as weapons, the same being required along a route that would take them first across the Aegean then south to weather the southern tip of Greece.
In this task Archelaus was required to deal with John the Cappadocian and the frustration of that wore him down, for the man who held the purse strings of supply was not going to release funds or empty the imperial storehouses unless some of the value came into his personal possession. Flavius complained to Justinian: he promised to act, but nothing changed.
Of course the Emperor was busy on other matters. He had secured peace in the east by withdrawing the administrative centre of dux Mesopotamiae from Dara and paying Kavadh a fortune in gold for what was called an Eternal Peace. Rapacious as the Sassanid ruler was, he had to be bought off; the expedition in the west could not be launched without him being passive on the eastern frontier and with enough money he would concentrate on controlling his own borders further east where he always faced difficulties with nomadic raiders.
There were other and equally vital diplomatic moves to attend to, not least the need to deprive Gelimer of allies by the sending of a set of demands he must refuse, such as the release of his brother Hilderic from prison and the despatch of him and his supporters to Constantinople. Since to comply would be fatal – Hilderic would seek support to oust him – it was no surprise he declined.
Aid and promises had to be despatched to those rebelling against Gelimer in Sardinia and Tripolitania. The expedition needed to land in Sicily for supplies and this could only be achieved with the permission of the present ruler of Italy, Amalasuintha, Theodoric’s youngest daughter, mother and regent for Theodoric’s grandson and heir Athalaric, who was many years away from his majority.
Far from secure in her position, Amalasuintha had been seeking support from Constantinople to shore up her position, she being surrounded by Goth warlords who could, if too many of them combined, overthrow her and murder her son. Besides that she had a personal grudge against the Vandals who had badly treated one of her sisters. Thus Sicily was open to the forces from the east. Letters had been sent to the King of the Visigoths in Hispania, seeking an alliance that would debar the Vandals from seeking their aid, but as yet no response had come.
With all in place Flavius, Antonina beside him and with Procopius in attendance, waited on the harbour mole at Constantinople for the imperial couple to bid them farewell. Justinian and Theodora arrived with the kind of pomp more suited to an eastern despot, in a gilded four-horse carriage, gorgeously canopied to keep out the sun and escorted by a troop of the Scholae Palatinae. Their presence, as if it were not already obvious, was announced by blaring trumpets that had many on the quayside kneeling in obeisance.
Flavius stayed on his feet and waited for the pair to come to him and it was noticeable that whereas the Empress seemed unfazed by the purpose upon which they were engaged, the blessing of an expedition that carried the hopes of the empire, her husband was pallid and fidgety which had Flavius whisper to Antonina.
‘He is like that. The plotting and scheming make him happy but the prospect of fruition brings out his nerves in case it all goes wrong.’
‘Theodora seems not to care.’
‘She cares, Antonina. If what we are about to embark on fails, the blame will not only lie with us.’
‘Us? How can I be blamed?’ she pouted.
‘Only for failing to keep me happy.’
These were the last words he could impart before Justinian was too close and he greeted him with due but not excessive deference, a sharp drop of the head that got a cold response from Theodora.
‘You carry the hopes of the empire in your hands, Flavius Belisarius.’
The formality jarred slightly and it was not the first time he had been exposed to it since the day of his marriage, much as he told himself it was imagination. He had ceased to be merely Flavius and he was no longer treated to those warm encompassing smiles. It was as if she had reverted to her previous demeanour, where her reservations about him were very thinly veiled.
‘How can you think her jealous of you?’ had been Antonina’s response when he hinted at it.
‘I did not say jealous,’ he had protested. ‘I just don’t think she likes Justinian having me as a friend. The ways she looks when we talk to each other is, for Theodora, too familiar. The lady wants Justinian to herself.’
Antonina had a quick reply. ‘Fear not, Flavius, she will cosset you because she loves me.’
Which got the rejoinder that it was perhaps he who should be jealous.
‘I have dreamt of this as you know, Flavius,’ Justinian croaked, signifying a dry throat.
‘The first step, Highness, one, to be hoped, of many.’
‘The hardest to bear,’ came the quiet reply. ‘I find it hard to sleep, so many of my dreams being full of disturbing images.’
Rumours abounded that Theodora had suggested he lead the army himself, that she could mind the empire while he garnered the kind of glory that had not attended the throne since the days of Julian the Apostate. The same sources told that Justinian had insisted he had chosen the right leader, which seemed not to sit well with his wife.
Justinian stepped forward to embrace Flavius, something he had not done even prior to assuming his title. He had never been a demonstrative fellow, all his intimacies had been with the other sex and Flavius had often wondered if he would have benefited from being more at home in male company. He had been an Excubitor officer once but made no secret of the fact that he found the barrack room camaraderie not to his taste.
As if not to be outdone, Theodora likewise embraced Antonina before kissing her on both cheeks. Flavius, now free of the imperial clinch, felt the presence of Procopius at his side and he effected an introduction, not without close examination to see if there had been previous contact. Justinian practically ignored him; all Procopius got was a nod before the Emperor took the arm of his commanding general and led him towards the gangplank that would take him aboard ship.
Neither man saw the furious, though hurriedly suppressed reaction of Procopius, who felt slighted by being treated in such a peremptory fashion. He was still seething when they were aboard the ship and the cables had been cast off, it being poled clear of the harbour wall as the sails were lowered to take a decent wind.
‘Having seen the Emperor close up, General, I wonder at how someone so seemingly anxious can achieve such a high office. His nerves are very obvious.’
‘Do not underestimate him, Procopius,’ came a distracted response. ‘His mind is sharper than you or I could manage and the anxiety only whets that.’
‘Of course, one would need to be in his company for some time to see the whole man.’
That there was a certain amount of pleading in that passed by his still distracted superior, but it got Procopius an arch look from Antonina, so much more acutely aware when ambition surfaced. The talking did not last long; as soon as the ship cleared the mole all three fell seasick and were soon prostrate and being attended to by servants in no better condition.
It was no consolation to be told that half the crew, experienced sailors all and including the master, who was also the man who commanded the fleet, were also afflicted. It was two whole days before Flavius could walk the deck without discomfort and once his secretary was on his feet his employer began to discuss with him the Vandals – Procopius had sought to find out what he could from the citizens of the capital – and what Flavius heard was not a great deal.
‘They seem to be a very insular people.’
‘They trade, do they not?’
‘With Italy, yes, but very rarely with Constantinople. When I asked of their methods of making war there was no one who could tell me anything for no one has fought them.’
‘Let’s hope the
Sicilians are better informed.’
‘We do, of course, have their history.’
That was one solid Roman virtue; they always sought to understand their enemies and books existed that told of their emergence on the frontiers. The Vandals were another one of those tribes that had come out of the deep and endless forest that stretched east from the Rivers Rhine and Danube, a migratory people who had been pushed westward by the Huns.
In Gaul they ran up against the Franks, fought one battle and lost, then another which they won, going on to plunder their way south and west through the abundant region of Aquitaine, finally crossing the Pyrenees to enter a less-than-well-defended region of Hispania from which Rome lacked the power to dislodge them.
No one knew what had caused them to move to Africa but they had done so successfully and from there they had launched raids into Sicily and mainland Italy, on one occasion sacking Rome itself, as well as becoming for many decades the scourge of the western Mediterranean. Their kingship now extended to Corsica and Sardinia, though the latter island had risen against them and was awaiting support from Flavius.
The Vandals would have ships; how else could they keep their possessions intact as well as threaten their neighbours? If they were waiting for him to arrive they would meet at sea and that, Flavius knew, had to be avoided. The notion induced near panic among the men he commanded and it would likely be the same with those he was about to combine with.
Few of the sailors could swim, which seemed to be tempting providence. But the Huns, Heruls and foederati he now led lived in terror of a sea battle. Men who would face a fully armed cataphract and fight to the death, even if disadvantaged, viewed the notion of drowning with horror. Even being at sea when the wind strengthened, which it had done soon after departure, was enough to induce nerves so it was a blessing that they raised Abydos and dropped anchor in the calm waters of the bay.
It was not a blessing that the blustery weather fell away and they were becalmed there. There was not enough wind to get them back out to sea and to keep soldiers cooped up aboard ship was a bad idea, especially when he had disembarked the horses loaded at their first port of call so they could graze pasture. So Flavius let the men go ashore to be told the bad news the next morning.
