by Tony Roberts
Casca then indicated to the regimental officers to give the orders and soon he had the entire detachment marching round and round under the sun, sending up clouds of dust that obscured some of the men on the far side. To start with it was chaos until he hit upon the idea of dividing them into their regiments, then had one regiment going through its paces while the other nine sat on the seats jeering or exhorting them to greater efforts. By the late afternoon all of them were fairly tired and Casca ordered a stop. He got all ten regiments lined up and gave them all a dressing down for the state of their weapons and uniforms. “I want you all to report here straight after your morning meal to present your weapons and uniforms for inspection. Any regiment that doesn’t come up to my expectations will jog up to the Capitol and down again once for each man’s unsatisfactory equipment. So it’s up to all of you to make sure your comrade’s is as clean as your own. Clear?”
There was a disgruntled reply, quite ragged and sullen. Casca drew in a deep breath and opened his mouth as wide as he could. “Is that clear?”
This time the reply was clearer, more correct and almost as one. The men were dismissed but the ten regimental officers, the deucentarii, were ordered to remain behind. Casca gathered them around in a circle on the stadium track and addressed them all. “I don’t care what you think of me personally, I’ve got far more important things to worry about than whether you think I’m an absolute shit or not. In the next few days we’re going to leave this nice safe city with its lovely thick walls and march out into the open countryside where there are lots of nasty people who’ll want to inflict nasty things on these pretty parade boys. I don’t want boys in my command; I want men, men who’ll scare the crap out of the Goths. So I’m relying on you lot to support me in getting them there.” He looked at the ten men standing around him. “Any of you who has a difficulty with that had better let me know now so I can replace you before tomorrow.”
The ten deucentarii looked at each other in surprise. This man wasn't slack in discipline, even if he did get on your nerves. They were not prepared to lose their position in the army, and most of them had taken a long time in getting where they were, and if this man said he’d replace them then he would, so it was better to grit your teeth and go along with him rather than be disgraced in front of the ranks. Still, there was always Vitalius to complain to if things got too unbearable, so the ten men remained silent.
Casca nodded in satisfaction. “Very well, we meet again tomorrow morning. I’ll let you get back to your barracks for a well-earned meal. Dismissed.”
The officers broke up and departed, Casca giving two of them a careful watch as they walked out of sight. Those two had given him looks of pure hate and if there was going to be any trouble then it would be from those two; besides it had been their regiments that had been the worst of the ten and it was clear that the lack of commitment sprang from the top. Perhaps if he had a little word with Vitalius that evening? He might as well get his word in first before those luxury loving two went and complained over his head.
In the event Vitalius couldn’t care less, being more concerned with securing a treasure or two he had been keeping an eye on over the past few months before they marched out of Rome. He approved of Casca’s tightening of discipline because it kept his officers out of the way while he acquired the treasures and besides, they were getting lazy and flabby and Belisarius had noticed it on more than one previous occasion. Vitalius decided to report to Belisarius that it had been he who had ordered Casca to work on the discipline, thereby gaining merit in the young fool’s eyes. He sent Casca away with praise, planning all the while to steal his thunder.
Over the next two days the regiments gradually gained some semblance of discipline, wheeling together to meet an imaginary flank attack or an ambush from behind, and he even had two regiments fight a mock battle as a demonstration to the other eight, pointing out strengths and weaknesses to each maneuver. He finally got them to set out a camp in an orderly manner, placing pickets out on the perimeter so that a surprise attack would be foiled. This tactic had saved the Roman legions Casca had fought in on many occasions and he couldn’t see why it shouldn't be used now. The men gradually ceased their grumbling, particularly when Casca announced that the regiment that performed the best would receive double rations at the end of the day and wouldn’t have to perform any cleaning duties.
Thereafter the regiments became more disciplined and more competitive and it was close between three of the regiments as to which one would get the prize. In the event it was Belisarius who decided, turning up unexpectedly having heard of Casca’s drilling of the troops from the sycophantic Vitalius. Casca’s pleasure at seeing his commander turned sour when he heard of Vitalius’s duplicity, but he kept quiet if only to avoid troubling Belisarius. The general though gave Casca more trouble with his next words. “I have been informed by your Comes that two of your regimental commanders are being unfairly treated. I am told you have singled them out for extra drill.”
Casca fumed, his fists clenching and unclenching. The two men concerned, Vitas and Sumerias, were typical lazy slobs born into families with privileges far above their needs, and looked on those from lower classes as peasants. They had taken a huge dislike to this Latin professional soldier with a lack of etiquette and had finally, so it seemed, bleated to Vitalius who had, typically, dropped the problem like a hot coal and shoved it on to his commander. Belisarius though seemed aware of Casca’s fury and raised a placatory hand. “I would be correct in saying that their regiments were those two there?” he pointed out the correct units.
“Yes, Magister,” Casca nodded, wondering what in the name of Jupiter was going to happen.
“Well, it does seem that there is some problem here. As commander of the imperial forces it is my duty to quell any trouble before it gets out of hand. Therefore I will take these two regiments away from you and transfer them to an expedition I am sending to Milan tomorrow.” Belisarius went on to explain that he had been approached by the archbishop of Milan to liberate the city from Gothic rule, and to return orthodox Christianity to that city in place of what the archbishop saw as the heretic Arian belief. To that end Belisarius was prepared to send a thousand men under one of his Comes, a man named Mundilas, by sea to Genoa and thence to Milan to take the city.
Casca was concerned that this would put those men out on a limb, way to the north of the rest of the Byzantine forces, but Belisarius smiled, informing the Roman that the Goths would be distracted and leave the way open for him to get to the east coast quickly where another force under Narses was heading. Casca puffed out his cheeks. At last that old bastard Narses was coming!
* * *
Three days later they left Rome and marched along the Via Salaria, crossing a tributary of the Tiber and passed through a number of villages towards the Apennines that loomed ever closer. The villagers shut themselves behind closed doors and hid away until they had passed, an indication of the plunder and rapine that had raged across the countryside over the past three years. Belisarius sent out his cavalry to forage and make sure that no enemy units were nearby to threaten his progress, but the Goths stayed away, content to remain behind their fortified hilltop towns. They pressed on over the next few days, climbing through the passes that cut through the mountains, enduring rain and sleet before they began their descent towards a hillside settlement where the road forked. They could have turned due north but in the way was the fortress of Auximum which was still occupied by the Goths, and they indeed believed that that was the way Belisarius would go. Instead he struck north east directly for the coast, before the enemy could react and marched along the Via Aemilia, the Adriatic coastal road, passing behind Auximum and taking Ancona, sending the few Goths there running for their fortress.
Belisarius didn’t remain in Ancona long; he heard that the Goths had surrounded Ariminum and John was now trapped there with his two thousand men without food or adequate defenses. However, Narses had landed on the coast nearby and
had marched north the day after Ancona had been captured. Belisarius left a sizeable force at Ancona and taking his senior officers south with him, met the eunuch cordially enough at the town barracks where Narses was camped. However Narses proceeded to throw his weight about, stating that although Belisarius was free to continue running the military aspect of the campaign, Narses was there to make sure that all other aspects fell into line with imperial policy. In other words carry on with the war but your ass is being watched.
Belisarius was pissed off with this and informed Narses that there would be a council of war the following day which he was ordered to attend. The two men stood face to face for a moment, the young general eyeball to eyeball with the elderly eunuch, before Narses nodded and curtly gestured for his bodyguard to follow him out to a residence that had been appropriated for him.
Casca, having kept to the shadows while Narses had been present, puffed out his cheeks. Boy, was there no love lost between those two! It seemed as though Justinian had sent the castratto to check on the general, to make sure that Belisarius had no designs on the imperial throne himself.
The council of war the following day was mainly a condemnation of John, still sitting pretty up in Ariminum with his cataphracti. All the junior officers took their turn at hurling abuse and invectives against the imperial commander, condemning him of recklessness and a desire for financial gain. Casca nudged Procopius, sitting next to him writing furiously, in the ribs. “What do they mean by that?”
“Oh, he’s after a kingship I expect,” the writer said offhandedly. “We know John’s in secret communication with Vitiges’ wife Matasuntha, and these gentlemen here fear he’s trying to negotiate a separate peace with the Goths in return for her hand in marriage.”
The Roman shook his head in amazement. It was incredible that a general should suddenly think of switching sides in the middle of a campaign that teetered on success or failure. As far as he was concerned, someone should go up there and arrest him. However, once all the others had had their say, with the surprising exception of Belisarius, Narses got to his feet slowly and fixed each man with a piercing stare. “If John has acted in ignorance,” he said heavily, “then he can be excused. If however he has deliberately refused a direct order from his commanding officer,” and he turned his head to a silent Belisarius, “then it is up to that commanding officer to decide what punishment he should receive. However, to order John back from a position that threatens the Gothic capital would be folly, as the Goths are clearly dispirited, disjointed and disheartened, and to present them with any kind of victory, which surrendering Ariminum to them would be, would surely be detrimental to our campaign here. In any case, the Emperor has decreed we should press on for a quick victory.”
The last sentence hung heavy at the table, and Belisarius sighed, knowing he was over a barrel on this one, tied by imperial decree to saving John’s stupid ass. Casca thought to himself that if it was up to him he would save the cataphracti but leave John for the Goths.
Belisarius stood and leaned on the table. “Very well, this is what we shall do. The first and most important thing is to save John’s force, so we will advance on the Goths laying siege to Ariminum using the navy and half of our land forces. We will leave small garrisons here and in Ancona, lay siege to Auximum with a small force and send the rest of the army north towards Ravenna, taking any garrisoned town en route. We must tie down as many Gothic units as possible to prevent them from concentrating at any one point. They are shut away in useless hilltop fortresses where we can starve them into submission with a few men at a time, and it is important we keep them there and not let them concentrate their forces which would be a disaster for our outnumbered army.”
The officers grumbled at Belisarius’s apparent surrender to Narses but made preparations nonetheless. Casca was pissed off at having his command reduced yet again so that he was only in command of five regiments totaling fifteen hundred men, but these were the pick of his lot and he was chosen to accompany Belisarius to Ariminum by road while Vitalius took the rest of the scutati north west to take a few more fortified towns. Casca didn’t have an opportunity to talk to Narses before he left as the eunuch was surrounded by an army of civil servants so he would have to wonder about what was going on in the Empire’s capital as far as the Brotherhood was concerned.
The morning after the council of war he left for Ancona where his soldiers were stationed, accompanied by Sicarus and his mercenaries. Sicarus had tagged along wondering what the role of his men was to be in the forthcoming campaign, and he learned that they were to take part in fooling the Goths besieging John and his men into thinking they were outnumbered. Both Casca and Sicarus puzzled over in their minds as to how the general was going to do that, but they had learned one sure thing from their time with him and that was if Belisarius said he was going to fool the Goths, then you could bet your ass he would!
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Ariminum was surrounded on its three landward sides by an army of Goths who scurried like ants from camp to camp, or so it seemed to the watching soldiers of the imperial force that had arrived on the flat plain that surrounded the town. At sea the sails of the imperial force could be seen approaching, and Casca frowned as he counted the sails. What in the name of Zeus! Where had all the additional ships come from? It seemed as though the entire Adriatic was full of sail, and it was clear the Goths were worried by the size of the naval force approaching.
Belisarius nodded in satisfaction and waved to Sicarus to approach him. The mercenary leader listened to the general and laughed, returning to Casca still snickering at the plan the Magister Militum had in mind. He relayed it to Casca who agreed it was clever and both went to their men to implement it.
Each assigned two units of thirty men to go select heavy branches from nearby trees and bushes and march to and fro, dragging these branches behind them, while the rest of their men stood on the skyline looking down at the Gothic camp. The effect would be to make the enemy feel as though a much larger force was on the way. Belisarius was using psychology to undermine the hapless Goths, and soon it could be seen to be working as the enemy packed up camp and made off to the north as fast as they could, leaving their heavier equipment behind them in their haste. Belisarius smacked his hands together in delight and waved for a general advance to the port, and Casca’s unit soon entered the suburbs, seeing the effects of starvation all round. It was clear that Ariminum couldn’t have held out much longer. Casca walked up to Belisarius and inquired as to the profusion of sails on the sea. Belisarius smiled. “I had every spare sail in my fleet fitted to smaller boats and hulks and towed behind the larger vessels. From that distance the Goths couldn't have seen that they were not real ships.”
Casca shook his head at the cheek of the general. He had won yet another victory without a single person's blood being spilt. Casca was reminded of Sun Tzu once again: all war is deception.
The cataphracti greeted their saviors with enthusiasm, embracing the Byzantine troops and making for the food carts that trundled in, the civilians not far behind. Belisarius made directly for John’s headquarters and barged in angrily, only to find that Narses had beaten him to it and was in fact engaged in a friendly conversation. John refused to listen to Belisarius and attributed the saving of the town to Narses which did nothing for the Magister’s temper.
Casca thought that John had fallen into bad company with the eunuch and caught the latter’s eye before he followed the general out of the room. Narses merely stared at the Roman without recognition until he had left, then continued with his buddy-buddy talk with John.
The next few weeks were hectic. The Byzantine position was strengthened south of the River Po but north of it the expedition to Milan had ended in disaster. After entering the city they had been besieged by a combined force of Goths and Burgundians who had been sent by the Frankish king, and after a lengthy siege, which had not been relieved despite Belisarius’s urgings to his now stubborn minded Comes, it had surrend
ered with the understanding that the Byzantine garrison of three hundred could go free. Thereafter the Burgundians had embarked on a destructive spree that had razed the city to the ground; all three hundred thousand adult males had been slaughtered and all the women and children led into captivity.
It was a disaster to both the imperial forces and the Goths. For the imperial forces it was a military setback just when they least needed it and for the Goths it was confirmation that their closest neighbors were not allies but rapacious brigands who set upon each side without discrimination.
Vitiges sat with his head in his hands in his palace in Ravenna after hearing of this news. He had counted on the Franks to help him, particularly after honoring the treaty his predecessor had made with them. It seemed now that all was lost, for the camp fires of the Byzantines could be seen all around at night, and although the system of dikes and ditches that surrounded the city kept the invaders at bay, it would only be a matter of time before the city fell, even if it meant they would have to besiege Ravenna for over a year. Vitiges suddenly stood, making his attendants jump, and beckoned for one of the Roman scribes to make ready a letter. He had a brilliant plan, one that may yet save his kingdom from the imperial forces. If he could persuade the Persian king Khusrau to attack Byzantium from the rear they would have to send troops to the eastern theater away from Italy, and he could then take on the remaining Romans at will. He called his chamberlain to fetch two messengers, ones who could pass as members of the Eastern Roman Empire, for they would have to cross through imperial territory en route to Persia. Perhaps he could be saved after all.
Casca chewed on a scrawny chicken leg and eyed the forbidding walls of Ravenna in front of him. They had been outside the Gothic capital for a few weeks now and nothing seemed to be going on. He was bored and fed up with the whole war which seemed to be nothing but an endless series of siege and counter siege. For the length of time it had been going on there hadn’t been one single battle where both sides stood face to face and slogged it out. Casca had a feeling that if they did it would finish the war, one way or the other. The loss of Milan had been a blow but one good thing had come of it. Justinian had blown his top, especially after hearing that Belisarius’s orders had been refused by John and Justin, two of the Comes, on the grounds that they would only follow Narses’ orders. Narses had been ordered back to Constantinople double quick and had left with two thousand of his more undisciplined troops.
