Honour

by Jack Ludlow

  Solomon, coming upon the site of John’s recent victory, discovered one of the dead to be none other than Ammatus himself, but with no sight of John he was at a loss what to do. Reconnoitring to the west he and his men ascended a decent-sized hill and from there spotted a cloud of dust on the horizon; it had to be Gelimer and the main Vandal force, so word was sent back to Flavius Belisarius that an opportunity arose to smite the enemy, to catch them strung out on the march, as long as the main army moved swiftly.

  If they had sighted Gelimer, his scouts had seen Solomon. Between the two forces stood a high hill that dominated the surrounding country. Possession of that would give a huge advantage to whoever held it and a race resulted to get control. The Vandals got there first and despite Solomon’s best efforts he was up against too many to prevail and was obliged to retreat, not without a hot and threatening pursuit.

  Halfway back to the camp he came across a force of eight hundred bucellarii, all from the Belisarius comitatus, dismounted and holding a strong position. They, on hearing of Solomon’s reverse – it was not more than that – instead of standing where they were to provide aid, immediately fled. It was as well they encountered their general, himself out seeking news of his enemies and, though he would scarce admit it, getting himself away from the bickering of Antonina and Procopius.

  Rallying them by sheer force of personality he was able to steady his troops and get them ready to fight, while the pursuit, seeing the formation of that stand, saw it as prudent to withdraw. Now Belisarius knew the whereabouts of his enemy and he also knew of the existence of the second road leading to the pass at Ad Decimum, which had him send a fast rider to order an immediate advance to secure a position that would cut Gelimer off from Carthage or, if the Vandal usurper got there first, force him to do battle before he could retire towards the safety of the city walls.

  Luck, that indefinable quality, came to the aid of Flavius once more, for Gelimer delayed in his decision-making. He neither force-marched north nor seemed to be prepared for battle when the forces Belisarius led fell upon him. It was clear by the Vandal dispositions that Gelimer thought he had been beaten to the pass so that the arrival of the Romans at his rear threw his forces into complete confusion, a situation the better general was able to exploit.

  There was resistance but it was fragmented and easily broken, which had the Vandals breaking off the battle and fleeing, not towards Carthage, but north-west towards the wide fertile Plains of Boulla, perhaps fearing that with the bodies of their comrades littering the road the route to the capital was already barred by substantial numbers of their enemies: they could never have guessed that the force of John the Armenian numbered a mere three hundred men.

  The flat and grassy and fertile plain facilitated, for mounted men, a swift retreat and left the way open for Flavius to advance, but he halted, eager to gather in his disparate cavalry. John returned laden with Vandal booty, likewise Balas, and with the night drawing in sentinels were posted and the army settled down for a night in which the general who had won a victory sought to find out how he had achieved it, that after he had sent back to the infantry to join him at Ad Decimum, bringing with them his wife.

  In assessing what he had been told Flavius knew just how fortunate he had been, not least in encountering that fleeing bucellarii and rallying them, for if the pursuit had made it through to the main encampment the whole army might have panicked. He had no illusions about such a scenario; the mood of his troops could swing from confidence to despair in the blink of an eye. It was not just true of his host, it was true of any and he understood why.

  A fighting soldier could only see so much and for him, and often for the men that led them, what was happening over the extent of a whole field of battle was a mystery. In essence they were confined to the periphery of a very limited vision, thus they depended to a great extent on the mood of their comrades, which was why the wildfire sense of panic could so readily spread. One man fearing death can scare a thousand.

  But Gelimer had played a good hand badly too, seeking to join his forces away from Carthage and splitting them even more than when they were already divided. Having got first to the pass at Ad Decimum he should have carried on and not allowed himself to be attacked, all of these matters discussed with Procopius so that he could write up an account which would be sent to Justinian, who would have no fingernails left with the amount of worry he must be suffering.

  That also afflicted Flavius when news was passed to him that his ships, now out of sight of an army too far inland, had disobeyed his orders to match his pace and proceeded to round Cap Bon, nearly to reach the point at which lay the Vandal fleet. They might have been brought to battle and if defeated where that would have left him? As it was, nothing untoward had occurred so, reunited with Antonina, he could retire to his bed and celebrate the victory in connubial bliss.

  The horns blew on a bright dawn and, with Antonina at his side, Flavius Belisarius led his army on the short march to Carthage, passing the locations of his predecessors who had fought there and humbled Hannibal and the rival Carthaginian Empire to make Rome the supreme ruler of the Mediterranean. There was an attempt at humility but it was hard; how could he not feel proud? How could he not recall his father Decimus, so much the Roman, at a time like this?

  He came upon a city without a garrison to defend it and with walls in poor repair; migratory barbarians were not adept at building or maintaining fortifications, while inside the walls lived a population eager in the main to embrace them. Yet there was no rush to enter; the streets of the city were narrow, the Vandals if defeated, not destroyed. Despite the direction in which they fled how many might there be within the city waiting to ambush his men? Another day would make no difference.

  Word had reached Calonymus of the victory so they were heading for the port, a move Flavius blocked; they were to stay away until he had secured the Vandal capital and all was safe. The sailors satisfied themselves by plundering every merchant ship they could find and many a shore warehouse too, in the ports close to the capital.

  On the sixth day the citizens of Carthage awoke to find the Roman army drawing up in battle formation. If they were fearful they did not hear the conquering general admonish his troops to show the citizens respect, as well as their property. On demand the gates were opened and Flavius Belisarius entered the city, making for the palace of Gelimer to take up residence, eating the meal that had been prepared for the owner’s return.

  Two things frustrated him: Hilderic and his supporters had been murdered by Ammatus on the news of the Roman landing; also the treasury was empty and that was a great disappointment for it was legendary in its value. It was reputed to contain the proceeds of the Vandal rampage across Gaul and Aquitaine, during two centuries in which they had despoiled palaces, churches and the villas of the rich citizenry, stripping the county of every gold solidus they could find, many of them worked into fabulous decorative ornaments. Hispania had suffered the same depredations, a land that had within it the spoils of Carthage, Rome and the Celtic tribes who had inhabited the land prior to any imperial subjection.

  It had been removed, no doubt on the orders of Gelimer, to where no one knew, but what it meant was that the man who had occupied the city previously had the means, in both manpower and money, to keep the war going. Flavius made plain, through the leading citizens of the city whom he called to consult with him, that his policy towards the Vandals who remained with Carthage was one of peace and harmony, the same as he was extending to the old Roman stock.

  Most had fled to their churches and monasteries for sanctuary from the expected wrath of their enemies; he had to convince them that they had nothing to fear. Then he turned to other pressing matters. Defending the place!

  ‘The walls can wait, surely, Husband,’ Antonina protested, when he said his next task was to inspect them. It was unfortunate that it was Procopius who chose to respond, saying the same as would his employer but beating him to it.

  ‘Gelimer
is not yet beaten.’

  ‘Then wave your stylus at him, Procopius. I am sure he will flee then.’

  The reply was icy and delivered with a thin and waspish smile. ‘Perhaps, Lady Antonina, he will encounter your good self and surrender to be spared from your tongue.’

  ‘Procopius, enough,’ Flavius barked. ‘Both of you are commenting on matters outside your responsibilities.’

  ‘As if I had been granted any,’ pouted his wife.

  ‘You have them now. I am the imperial representative here and you’re my consort, which will mean many tasks devolving upon you to ensure that what we have gained stays in our possession.’

  ‘And what will they be?’

  ‘Ask Theodora,’ Procopius suggested. ‘I’m sure she will be able to advise you of your duties.’

  ‘Just as long as you never seek to.’

  ‘I am off to inspect the walls,’ Flavius growled. ‘They at least will not dispute with me.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  ‘The walls are in such poor repair, they are inadequate to repel an assault. One push and half the stones will fall.’

  Valerianus replied to Flavius with something of a shrug. ‘Then they need to be rebuilt.’

  ‘We would struggle to hold them if Gelimer attacks.’

  ‘Flavius Belisarius, there is no indication that he has the strength.’

  The desire to tell him he was wrong was solid; they had driven Gelimer from the battlefield but he had not been destroyed. The relationship with his second in command was interesting, Valerianus being a patrician; it must be galling to serve under someone from the Belisarius background, the son of a centurion commanding the offshoot of generals.

  His family had filled military and bureaucratic posts within the empire for centuries and, given his name, it was odd that when he spoke he chose to do so in Greek, a growing trait throughout the higher reaches of the old aristocracy. Flavius made a point of speaking to him in Latin, which tended to make the man think before replying, even if he had been reminded several times that was the language of the people they now controlled.

  He never dared to condescend openly to his commanding general, nor was he overly questioning on his tactics, perhaps because he had good grounds to think that Flavius would not remain in Carthage, so there would exist a vacancy to succeed him in what would be a rich office in a province ripe for plucking. The man to whom he was talking always wondered if that was why he was studiously polite.

  ‘I want a ditch dug around the land walls, that to be lined with stakes. Then, and only then, can we consider working on any masonry.’

  ‘My infantry are looking forward to a touch of ease.’

  ‘Then employ the citizens of the city, Valerianus; let them show in labour how much they appreciate our victory.’

  ‘The Emperor?’

  ‘I am sending Solomon to Constantinople to carry the news.’

  There was a blink then, of what? Jealousy. The messenger to Justinian would be well rewarded. Was it a task for which Valerianus could put himself forward and one he might have a right to claim?

  ‘Digging ditches. I doubt my family will be impressed.’

  ‘No one is asking you to personally employ a spade.’

  The task was completed within a week by obliging the Carthaginians to provide the necessary muscle. Flavius felt more secure, albeit there was bad news as well as good. Gelimer’s brother, Tzazon, had reconquered Sardinia, killing the leader of the rebellion which would, once he was appraised of the defeat at home, bring him and his five thousand warriors back to North Africa. The only silver lining was that the four hundred Heruls under Pharas that Flavius had sent to aid the uprising had arrived too late to become involved and were coming back to rejoin him.

  Next news came of a Visigoth refusal to aid Gelimer. The envoys he had sent to Hispania were slackers and arrived just as the news of the fall of Carthage reached the Visigoth ruler; he sent them home without bothering to tell them, thus they landed in Carthage and fell straight into the hands of the Romans. That at least shut off a potential route of escape for Gelimer, not that any indication came he was seeking one.

  He had called all the remaining Vandals to his banner and was distributing gold to the indigenes who resided on the breadbasket Plains of Boulla to aid him. There was also a reward offered for the head of any one of the men Flavius led. This was particularly a problem inside the city, given the ease of committing murder. Delivery was harder and searches were introduced in which several villains were apprehended and hung from the newly repaired sections of the walls. Most of the victims turned out to be servants; the soldiers, armed, were too difficult a target.

  ‘What will Gelimer do next?’ was the question on everyone’s lips.

  ‘He must attack us,’ replied John the Armenian, who since the departure of Solomon had become close to Flavius and had no fear of speaking out at the daily conference. ‘He needs a quick win and that is the only way to get one.’

  That opened a discussion on how to counter that; to exit the city and fight him in the open – favoured by the likes of Balas and the cavalry commanders – or to sit behind the walls and wait to be attacked. There might be much talking but the man in command was sure of his own course. He would act defensively for now as he had no need to do otherwise; Gelimer was the one with the problem.

  ‘Has his brother joined him yet?’ Valerianus asked.

  ‘We must assume he has yet to arrive,’ Procopius said, intelligence on the enemy being his responsibility. ‘In my view he will move as soon as that happens.’

  That raised a few eyebrows amongst the military men; what was this clerkish fellow doing commenting on matters that were their territory?

  ‘The Moors?’ John asked; that was the province of the secretary.

  ‘They seem reluctant to give him aid. Some have joined Gelimer but not all they can muster. I have some hopes of making an alliance that will favour us, for I have made it plain that we Romans have no designs on Mauretania.’

  ‘Yet,’ Valerianus crowed.

  ‘Probably never,’ Flavius interjected, only for Procopius to tell everyone why.

  ‘Move on Mauretania and you will have the Visigoths to contend with. They do not want us on the south side of the Pillars of Hercules.’

  ‘We beat the Vandals and we can beat them too.’

  ‘With the Moors fully on their side.’

  ‘Well, it is plain,’ Flavius concluded, ‘that Gelimer is gathering strength and not only from Sardinia. He is collecting in every waif and stray he can find to beef up his forces. If he does not come to us, which like John I think he must, then we must go to him and before our army gets too soft from luxuriating in Carthage.’

  It was agreed that as matters stood the Belisarius view should prevail: stay behind the ditch and the walls and wait. As the meeting broke up Balas hung back and it was plain he wanted a private talk. Procopius was permitted to stay as the Hun leader raised the discomfort being felt by his men.

  ‘I hope, Flavius Belisarius, you see them as having acquitted themselves well.’

  ‘Without doubt, a couple of transgressors notwithstanding.’

  Balas shrugged. ‘They got what they deserved but the rest of my soldiers are wondering when they can go home?’

  ‘We are in the middle of a campaign,’ Procopius protested.

  ‘And they will see it through. But there’s not one of them gives this Gelimer a chance and they are hoping you will say to them that as soon as he is defeated proper they will be boarded onto ships for Constantinople and the borderlands. They did not make a mark to serve abroad.’

  There was no need to ask why this request was forthcoming; the Huns served as mercenaries close to their own homelands. They liked to do their service in a spot where they could easily visit family, often wives and children, or friends who lived just beyond the imperial border markers. If they campaigned away from that it was of short duration.

  Flavius had always had an
ambivalent attitude to Huns – it was men of that race who had massacred the cohort led by his father and if they had been bribed to do so that did not diminish the relish with which their murderous raid was carried out. Perhaps there were men now serving Justinian who had taken part in that incursion, maybe even in his army.

  Not that he would enquire; the Huns who enrolled as mercenaries were wonderful fighters with a reputation that was respected throughout the known world. But their tribal comrades who did not serve the armies of Constantinople were more numerous and seen as homicidal, especially by imperial citizens. If any of that ilk were present it was best not to know.

  ‘We must defeat Gelimer before anyone goes anywhere.’

  ‘I have acknowledged that.’

  ‘And if it takes time?’

  ‘Then they will stay true.’

  ‘True?’ demanded Procopius, hinting at treason.

  ‘An inappropriate word, Balas,’ Flavius said in an emollient tone. ‘Please tell your men that no one will be kept here beyond the need, but I have also to add I have no idea when that might be.’

  ‘Strange to make the request now,’ Procopius opined when the Hun leader had left.

  ‘It’s a cautioning. Balas is letting us know well in advance of any difficulties that there might be one.’

  Any concerns would have been eased if they could have seen into the mind of Gelimer. He too would have agreed with John the Armenian, for he knew that a protracted war was unsustainable and would only have been so with the aid of the indigenous population. But they were now firmly, thanks to the mildness of the Belisarian policies, firmly in his camp.

  Thus he had a limited number of men and after they were gone there would be no more. To keep them in the field without fighting was not the way of their tribe, and even if he had wanted to play a waiting game their hot blood would not have permitted it. He needed to beat the Romans and quickly; that done, the spineless indigenes would soon bow at the knee again.