Honour (16 page)

Naturally such a day began with a Mass all along the extended line, as his men, high and low and including himself, were shriven and promised that what sins they had committed in this life would be forgiven in the next for they were engaged upon God’s purpose. The priests were just as keen on retribution as the men over whom they prayed and it was made plain that in killing the Sassanids they would be doing holy work.

‘Odd word,’ Procopius whispered, more to himself than to Solomon kneeling beside him, ‘regarding a divinity who insisted we turn the other cheek.’

‘Hardly ever met a priest who knew truly the message of Jesus Christ. There are some good men who have become priests but too few. Most care more for their bellies than their faith.’

‘Best not let your master hear you say that,
Domesticus
. He’s a pious man.’

‘He’s too soft, Procopius. What happened was mutiny and he would have done best by stringing up a few and letting the rest wonder at sharing their fate.’

The trumpets blew to end the devotion and the army in their various dispositions turned from that to facing the enemy, who within a glass of sand set about them with a burst of arrow fire at a density few had previously experienced. Counter fire evened out the rate of casualties so Flavius could be reasonably happy that no sense of balance had been achieved – he still outnumbered Azarethes.

If he preferred the defensive, Flavius reasoned that with men who were going to be increasingly weakened from hunger, the longer the day went on the weaker they would become; best he launch an attack just in order to force a response. He was busy putting this in place when the discord on his right wing alerted him to a threat and had him riding hard to find out the cause.

It gave him no joy to observe that Azarethes had moved a huge number of his cavalry to the Roman right wing and attacked the Ghassanids. Even worse was to see that they were beginning to panic and their line was not going to hold, which would destroy that flank completely. That was spreading to the Lycaonians who were next to their left and that would result in half of his line being rolled up.

‘Solomon, get as many cavalry to this wing as you can, while I try to shore up the defence.’

‘Best send another,
Magister
. If you fall we are lost.’

‘If the Lycaonians give way I reckon us lost anyway, now go.’

Flavius and a small contingent of his
bucellarii
rode into what was the beginnings of a collapse and it was one at which he was at a loss to prevent. These mounted Ghassanids had not fought under him at Dara; the sight of him did not have the effect it would have had on the men he had led to victory, so his attempts to rally them failed. These were the men who had so wanted to fight. Now they desired nothing more than to set their mounts to the west and gallop to safety.

A messenger came to tell him the Lycaonian commanders, who had managed to keep their men in place, had both been killed. That gave him a feeling of dread; men rarely held their ground when they lost their leaders and that was the case now. If they went the Huns would be next and then the whole cavalry line would crumble, which would leave the infantry at the mercy of Azarethes.

If there is a moment when a general can sense victory then there is another that hints at defeat. Even worse is the feeling that can come which presages catastrophe, one only an arrogant numbskull would face up to and not react. Flavius recognised now that he very likely could not hold; fear would negate any generalship he could bring to bear, so the task was to avoid what had happened in his first battle.

There was only time to conclude that fact before the Lycaonians broke. Now they were following in the wake of the Ghassanids and there was no time to redeploy the rest of his light cavalry to face the coming threat, while his
bucellarii
were too few in number to fight on alone. This had him riding hard away from the mayhem around him to order his cavalry to quit the field, his own men included.

Collecting Procopius, he put Solomon in charge of getting his men out of danger, sweeping aside the suggestion that he too flee. The waggons that carried the Belisarius possessions and those of the men who attended to him were harnessed up and driven towards the river. Before he followed he ordered Solomon to get to Callinicum and make sure it could be held, dismounting and passing the reins to his
domesticus
.

‘Get every boat you can find and bring them upriver as soon as you can. If God has any mercy, you will find us still alive.’

There was no need to say who the ‘we’ were. The infantry could never outrun the Sassanid cavalry so their only one hope was to
stand and fight with the river at their back and Flavius Belisarius was determined to lead that defence. Peter, the man who commanded the infantry, was from Justinian’s Excubitors. Flavius had no knowledge of his reading of history but he knew what to do for he had learnt much at the knee of his father.

‘Form the
testudo
. We do battle like the legions of old.’

Peter proved an asset, quick to follow orders and not one to waste time in asking for clarifications; he speedily had his men adopt the famous tortoise shape that gave them a round frontage and flat sides while Flavius organised the archers to take up a position in the centre of the protecting body and to be prepared to fire over their heads.

They got everything in place just in time; the first Sassanid attack came almost as they completed their dispositions. But with shields locked and nowhere to which they could run it was a hard defence to break and this time the Sassanids had no cataphracts in their force to make the needed breakthrough. Azarethes had only light horse, and faced with a wall of shields and protruding spears, as well as slashing swords if they got too close, the attackers were driven off a dozen times.

Being spring the heat was tolerable and there was no shortage of water. The fight went on all through the day, but what was running short was arrows as the archers sent salvo after salvo into the advancing ranks of Sassanid cavalry to break their organisation. In attack after attack the horsemen hit the shield wall piecemeal and with a lack of coordination. By twilight the arrows were exhausted, but so were the Sassanids, while the boats Solomon had organised began to arrive.

The defence was collapsed in an orderly manner, the lines shortened until Flavius, having got away the content of his waggons as well as
the majority of his men, stood among the very last of his infantry. Azarethes rode forward in the gathering gloom, to raise his sword and kiss it in a form of salute. Flavius and Peter were the last to board a boat, to be carried downstream on the current of river full of spring meltwater.

If they had succeeded in extracting the infantry it had not been everyone; the field they left was dotted with many dead members of the Roman forces.

T
he capital city to which Flavius Belisarius returned as a partially successful general was one in turmoil and the target of the unrest was the Emperor Justinian, the cause being his well-intentioned efforts to effect some very important changes to a system that had become ossified. The law codes were stuffed full of statutes that no longer had any relevance while the treasury was not as full as it should be, meaning that to pursue his aims and prosecute a war in the east Justinian needed to get in all the taxes owed from a population well versed in avoidance, none more so than the richest patricians and merchants.

The problem the new Emperor had was not in the policies but in the people he chose to implement them. The recodification of the laws was handed to a senator called Tribunianus, famed for his knowledge of jurisprudence. Initially his reforms were greeted with approval, but slowly it began to be obvious that as the man in charge of judicial judgement too many of the cases were being decided in favour of his friends. Even less palatable was the suspicion that bribes were involved, for Tribunianus seemed to be a very much richer fellow halfway through the recodification than he had been at the outset.

Such matters tended to concern the upper reaches of Roman society but to that class the real trouble lay in taxation. The task of ensuring collection was allotted to John the Cappadocian and in that breast the population found a degree of venality that, as it went on, became increasingly intolerable: too much of what he soaked from their income was going into his coffers and not the treasury. John inflamed feelings even more by flaunting his increasing wealth in a way that was both crass and dangerous.

John had also been ordered by Justinian to cut the number in what was an exceedingly bloated bureaucracy, which meant separating men, mostly nobles, from their means of earning a living, as well as removing from them their status as imperial placemen. Given many had bribed their way to their occupation, this struck at the very heart of the class of people the empire relied on for support.

Disenfranchised men tend to foregather and these nobles were no exception; what held back the growing tide of anger was that they did not actually all combine into one group. Some gravitated towards the Blue faction, much favoured by the imperial couple, in the hope of reinstatement by ingratiation. Others joined the Greens, the party of the merchants and seen as the opposition to imperial fiscal overreach. The fact that they went their separate ways tended to hide just how serious was the discontent, given they had a habit of directing their resentments at each other.

If Flavius had heard rumours of it – no one could avoid the criticisms of John the Cappadocian for they were so loud they even reached the provinces he ran – he had no idea of the depth of feeling into which he rode into Constantinople. Unlike previous visits he came to the city at the head of the
bucellarii
, their armour and accoutrements shiny, they following behind their general and his personal guard unit.

The victory at Dara gave the Belisarius name lustre; the defeat at Callinicum was hailed as a miracle, given the losses were so few and he could be hailed as the man who had saved the day. His campaigns could be seen as a success; the Sassanids had made no more incursions since that last battle, it being conveniently put to one side that, his treasury now better supplied, Justinian had concluded a treaty and reinstated the payment of gold to Kavadh.

So he and his six-hundred-strong force entered the city to the cheers of the populace, or at least those not too occupied to notice. When they reached the plaza before the imperial palace Justinian was there to greet him, a signal honour. If it was noticed that Theodora was absent no one had the ill grace to make mention of it.

‘The conquering hero is home.’ Tempted to reply, one success, two failures did not a conquering hero make, Flavius merely smiled. ‘You have bloodied the nose of Kavadh.’

The answer was too soft for anyone nearby to hear. ‘While you have lined his purse, Highness.’

There was a moment then when Flavius thought he had gone too far. It was no secret between himself and Justinian that he disapproved of bribing the Sassanids to remain supine, indeed the Emperor had railed against it as an imperial nephew. But the look those words engendered, a flash of irritation, told Flavius that if he was still held in regard, the man was now well and truly at home in his imperial state and it was not for the likes of him to question policy. It was as brief as a small cloud obscuring the sun, for Justinian then smiled.

‘Few would dare challenge me so directly.’

‘You know I cannot be otherwise.’

‘Just as you should know how much I miss dispute.’ The voice rose from what it had been in that exchange to its normal level as
Justinian added, with a scowl at the members of his counsel come to join him in the welcome, ‘Everyone agrees with me now, at least to my face. Behind my back they conspire to hide from me the truth of their peculations.’

‘Your lady wife is well, Highness?’

That change of subject did not go down well either: Flavius had no desire to become even tangentially involved in court politics. Or was it the way he referred to Theodora, not giving her proper title?

‘My imperial consort is in very good health.’

‘It pleases me to hear it.’

‘Come, let us retire to a place where we can converse more freely, without so many ears seeking words that might be used to divide us.’

‘My men?’

Justinian looked past him to the
bucellarii
lined up on parade; the point was obvious, some gesture should be made, like a close inspection, but Justinian was not to be drawn. He merely waved a dismissive hand.

‘Will be looked after by the Excubitors, I’m sure. But they will, of course, be required to depart the city and move to the Galatea barracks.’

‘My
comitatus
?’

‘May stay within the confines of the city.’

Linking his arm, Justinian led Flavius past the guards at the palace entrance and into the cool interior, talking away like an old acquaintance, ignoring the deep bows that attended his passing as well as those of a more lowly station who knelt as if in an act of worship. His topic was the burdens of state, which were of course something he would love to put aside, a proposition that his companion took for what it was, window dressing. Justinian loved his role and only the
Grim Reaper would separate him from the exercise of power.

‘The real problem is that whatever the court officials do that is taken badly, I get the blame.’

Flavius was tempted to reply ‘poor you’, instead he pointed out the obvious. ‘You do have the power to remove those who thwart your will.’

‘Flavius, they are not the problem, it is those carrying out my express wishes that do that. John the Cappadocian removes a whole raft of people drawing stipends for doing nothing, but when they combine it is me they curse.’

‘I have heard he is doing well.’

If Flavius was seeking to say he was corrupt it was not very well hidden, not that he intended it to be, but the reply from the Emperor answered several questions.

‘Theodora has great faith in him.’

‘Ah.’

‘I can afford to buy off Kavadh only because John has seen to my coffers. If he looks to his own needs in the process then he is no different to anyone else I would employ in that task. The notion that any of my officials refuse to take bribes is one only the likes of you could hold.’

‘Since you do not compliment me often, Highness, I will accept that one with gratitude.’

Justinian grinned like a naughty child, before a quick glance at the now closed door of the private chambers. ‘We are alone, Flavius, you may call me by my name.’

That had the recipient look at the same door and pulling a face, the inference being plain: in this place they were never alone. Justinian began referring to the unrest, of which Flavius had received an inkling
prior to his entry into Constantinople, the imperial view that it was not as bad as was being reported by the urban prefect.

‘There are always grumbles in the city and that crescendos if you deprive lazy bureaucrats of their places. Besides, what one of my predecessors did not have the odd upheaval to contend with?’

‘So it can be contained?’

‘The city regiments are available to put a cap on any trouble.’

The entrance of Theodora stopped the conversation. A quick look established that she seemed more comfortable in her imperial status – there was an aura about her now as there was in her husband – but whereas Justinian had let that soften, there was no reduction in her manner for the sake of old acquaintance. She produced a smile, there was a greeting, but neither could be said to convey any warmth. Flavius then found himself on the receiving end of a series of rapid-fire questions that bordered on an interrogation, she demanding an explanation for the defeat at Callinicum, brushing aside the proposition that Flavius had said all that had to be imparted in his despatch.

‘They are never enough,’ she insisted as her husband nodded. ‘The written word cannot fully describe what …’ There was a pause then, before she added, ‘The truth.’

‘The truth is I failed, Highness.’

That being brushed aside, Flavius looked to Justinian to keep his wife in check, only to be reminded that it was not something he either wished to do or perhaps was capable of, which left his favourite general exposed to an uncomfortable period of explanation, one in which he refused to allot the blame for the defeat to any other cause than his own incompetence.

‘Such nobility,’ was the parting shot as Theodora reminded Justinian, just before she left the chamber, that there were other
matters requiring his attention, things more important.

‘We shall talk again,’ the Emperor imparted quietly, adding the kind of smile that conveys a lack of liberty to do as you wish. ‘And do not mind Theodora, she fears only for my well-being and that of the empire.’

‘The good Lord help you if you do not do as you are told.’

That being said to an empty room had no consequences and he left the palace to lead his men to Galatea and see them safe to their barracks under the command of Solomon.

Over the next week, Flavius, who had returned to the city, sensed the growing unrest for, divested of his military garb, he was at liberty to walk the streets and overhear what was being said, to sense the febrile nature of the feelings of both factions, the Blues and the Greens. It was a mystery to him how rival chariot racing teams could morph over time into what they were now: political forces and sworn enemies.

From time to time he came across Procopius – their coincidental meeting seemed frequent – who had the same understanding of what was happening as he: Justinian was stoking passions as he sought to introduce edicts curbing the disturbances: limiting numbers permitted to gather outside the Hippodrome, higher fines for misbehaviour and a curb on too overt a display of allegiance. Such efforts to calm things turned out to have the absolute opposite effect and matters came to a head in the one place where the two polities gathered to vocally cheer on their charioteers.

The Hippodrome was packed, the early January weather was clement and the races were in progress when the trouble started. As reported it was small to begin with but it spread like a bushfire until the whole stadium seemed involved and the groups looked close to
killing each other. The urban prefect, Eudaimon, asked and was given permission to enter the Hippodrome and not only quell the disorder but to arrest the leaders of both, people well known to the authorities. Seven men in all were taken up and a special court was set up which condemned all of them to death.

Such a show of force did not calm things, quite the reverse. Locked up in the urban prefect’s gaol until the following day, their plight drew a crowd to protest at their impending fate, which continued into the morning as they were taken to the newly constructed scaffold to be hanged. The point at which the ropes began to choke then set off great lamentations, yet still the parties remained separate, one side cheering the drop of an enemy while keening and praying at the fate of one of their own.

Satisfied that the deed had been completed, Eudaimon led his men away, which allowed the mob to cut down the victims, whereupon they found two were still alive. Monks from the monastery of St Lawrence took both survivors to their cloisters which, being sanctified ground, they hoped would keep them safe. Eudaimon, unwilling to make a forced entry, posted guards outside to deny the whole monastery food until the monks surrendered the two miscreants.

This situation continued for months with no sign of the monks complying with the Prefect’s demands, this while the atmosphere within the city walls went from bad to worse: the two surviving leaders, it transpired, consisted of one from each side, a Blue and a Green, and both having similar grievances they decided to combine.

Flavius, observing the mayhem that followed, took cognisance of one glaring fact: the regiments stationed permanently in the city were as factional as the general population. This was a factor which had kept them useful since they would only ever be employed against one
or the other and only when called to contain a situation out of control.

Now that the Blues and Greens were acting in concert, what then? The answer came on the next occasion Justinian and Theodora entered the imperial box, to hear the entire assembled crowd in the Hippodrome, a stadium which held thirty thousand spectators, chanting in unison and their anger was aimed at him. The cry on which they combined was ‘Nika’, the Greek word for ‘Victory’, and it was plain the person they saw as the enemy needing to be defeated was Justinian.

Sat close to him Flavius watched as he tried to maintain an expression of unconcern – Theodora looked thunderous. If that worked at a distance it was certainly possible to observe the tenseness of his jaw and the odd furrowing of the brow in close proximity. Seeking to make a joke he made much play of laughing, which inflamed the crowd even more.