Honour (23 page)

John sought to tempt the Vandals by peppering them with arrows and missiles, to which they responded with not a single spear, a fact the Romans found peculiar. Tzazon would not be drawn; if he attacked to drive these skirmishers off he did not let his men cross the stream. He knew that to be the enemy aim, just as he knew that even if as an obstacle it was small it was enough to disorder his ranks.

The same aim was the tactic of John’s next sally, leading forward the
bucellarii
. Again Tzazon mounted an attack to throw them back, again his men halted at the water’s edge. Watching from an elevated
position Flavius had observed that on each occasion the Vandal wings had not moved to support Tzazon and his Sardinian veterans. Fearing that John, into close proximity, might have failed to observe this he sent a messenger to advise him. But there were no accompanying orders; he had handed over tactical command, to interfere would be wrong.

John needed no instruction, anyway; he had noted that on both occasions there had been no sign of a mounted response to his pinprick attacks. If the Vandals would not move then he must. With that knowledge added to the message from Flavius he brought forward the whole
comitatus
, the very best troops he commanded, and attacked across the stream himself.

His general was right; the Vandal wings remained static, taking no part in what had become a fight of the centre sections of both armies. Once more it was noticed there were no Vandal spears employed, which meant the Romans got close up to the enemy and began to press them back. As is often the case it was the fall of a leader that decided matters. Tzazon was isolated and cut down, his collapse sending a deep wail of despair through the men he had led both here and in Sardinia.

When they broke so did the Vandal wings and soon it turned into a rout, one in which the Huns spurred forward to take part, cutting down their coreligionists with abandon in a retreat that took the Vandals back inside their fortified camp, one that was too strong to be assaulted by cavalry.

Flavius was harrying his infantry to get to the same spot, and once there he formed them up for an immediate assault, now once more in possession of his standard. It proved a waste; Gelimer knew he was beaten and with a few close followers, relatives and the like, he
abandoned his men and fled. It was only moments later that the whole Vandal army did likewise – they would not stand where their usurper king would not – leaving their enemies to plunder their camp. This time it included a great quantity of treasure, including many of the priceless objects looted from Gaul and Hispania, fortunately secured by the more disciplined units.

There was no holding back the men Flavius led. They had found an abundance of wine too, as well as women; and were fired up for rapine, slaughter and plunder. Even if their general had wanted to pursue Gelimer it would have proved impossible. It did not occur to these rampaging fools that the Vandals might re-form and attack. If they had it would have been fatal.

It was daybreak before he could impose some order, halfway through the morning before he got a chance to harangue and curse his own troops for their behaviour, this after he had got John the Armenian away with two hundred cavalry to seek to kill or capture Gelimer. Women and children were rescued from being privately sold into slavery. Vandals who had taken sanctuary in their Arian churches were relieved of their weapons and sent to Carthage.

That done, Flavius formed up his army to engage in his personal pursuit only to come across tragedy. After several days and nights of a hard chase John had got close enough to the rump of Gelimer’s forces to effect a capture or kill him as commanded. One of his bowman, in firing an arrow, let one hand slip as he loosed and the bolt swerved from true aim and hit John in the neck. When Flavius caught up with them it was to find them in mourning for their dead and much revered commander, none more so than the guilty bowman.

Yet on questioning them all it had to be concluded to be an
accident, a fluke of battle but not a fitting end for such a fine warrior. The culprit was pardoned and John was buried at the very spot, with Flavius pledging funds to ensure it would be marked by a stone obelisk listing his achievements and offices, all in Latin as befitted a man deserving to be called a true Roman.

Gelimer was still free as well as alive and the pursuit had to continue.

T
o get at their quarry became harder than merely catching up with him. Gelimer had allies of which the Romans were unaware and they were now in a land where if the populace were known as Moors, that covered many individual tribes who would not have responded to that folkloric label, people who answered only to their own leaders in an area of Africa riven by fractious infighting. One such occupied an ancient hill fort and city known as Medeus, and it had been fighters from there that had been observed at the recent battle.

Situated on the slopes of a high mountain, the fortress looked unassailable and for one man, however elevated, it was not a place to employ a whole army nor could it occupy a person with a recently reconquered kingdom to run. Flavius entrusted the task of capture, either by negotiation or other means, to Pharas and his Heruls, men who had been staunchly loyal to his banner.

Returning to Hippo Regius, the largest and most wealthy city west of Carthage, from there he began to make certain dispositions. There were Vandal outposts in the region of Mauretania to take possession of, one right opposite the coast of Hispania at the Pillars of Hercules
and one in Caesarea, the old Roman capital when Mauretania had been an imperial province, one of which Procopius had a very fixed view.

‘Justinian will wish you to take control of that too.’

‘Then he better send me another army, for by my reading all we really ever held was the coast. The mountain tribes are impossible to subdue, the best that can be hoped for is that they can be kept from too much raiding. We have enough to swallow with the possessions of the Vandals.’

‘I questioned one of Tzazon’s captains, a fellow who was with him in Sardinia. His leader did such a fine job on the island the place is properly cowed. Seems he hung or strangled anyone who looked like a rebel. The locals will not believe he is dead and they will not believe that we have beaten Gelimer.’

Procopius got an expectant look then: Flavius knew such preambles usually led to a solution and he was waiting for one now. ‘So since we have the head of Tzazon, I suggest we send it with whoever is despatched to secure the place.’

‘We best send a strong force,’ Flavius mused. ‘Tzazon would not have left the place without a garrison of some kind who might fight. Whoever we send will have to secure Corsica as well.’

The other problem was the Vandals spread out all over their now defunct kingdom. Flavius was well aware that more than half of his inferior commanders believed they should be rounded up and slaughtered like dogs, Balas of the Huns particularly keen to be allotted the task, no doubt to prove their renewed loyalty.

But the man who had to decide wanted a peaceful province not a troubled one, and to do as was suggested would mean sending out bodies of troops to scour the countryside and root out the perceived
enemy. What he had observed in Carthage made that questionable. If the indigenes that the Vandals had subdued hated them, they were yet Christians and would probably not, in many cases, welcome persecution. It was plain that if the Vandal touch had been heavy in the larger concentrations like the capital, out in the country he sensed they had been more benign; logic dictated they would have had to be, for the Vandals were so heavily outnumbered by the local population to be cruel invited assassination.

There was another consideration: bands of warriors roaming around out of his personal control might be lax in whom they chastised. The invading army could not have beaten Gelimer so speedily without aid, such as freely given supplies and intelligence of the enemy. Anything that might alienate the people who had behaved so well had to be avoided and that included unnecessary massacres that might kill the wrong people. The amnesty was to apply to all Vandals and only those who refused it would suffer.

‘A messenger, Excellence.’

Flavius looked up from the papers he was examining to respond, grateful that his labours might be interrupted given he found them tedious. Old property rolls, census returns and taxation receipts for the region in which he now sat, the very stuff by which bureaucrats run empires, though these were out of date. They were not to his taste but they had to be studied so that he could put in place the officials necessary to run the province without handing them the keys to the coffers and an easy way to line their own pockets.

‘A Vandal who seeks a personal audience,’ the servant added. ‘Well dressed.’

‘A high official?’

‘All I can say is his clothing is fine.’

Even knowing the fellow would not be armed, Flavius fetched his sword and placed it on the desk he was using, before sitting behind it and permitting the man’s entry. Fine clothing did not do him justice and did not describe his person; well larded in a way that indicated a superior diet, he was clad in silks of exceptionally good quality, which had Flavius ask the man who had escorted him to send for Procopius.

The bow that followed was so low the man’s head was near to touching the ground, an act that was greeted in silence. Given the position was held, Flavius reckoned through uncertainty. When Procopius entered he was greeted by a quite substantial posterior and he could not resist what for him was unusual, a joke.

‘I think I know that face.’

‘Bonifatius of Caesarea greets the mighty Flavius Belisarius.’

Being aimed at the marble floor and pronounced in perfect Latin gave this declaration an ethereal quality. ‘And what does that signify?’

Flavius having spoken was obviously seen as a release for his self-imposed obsequiousness for this Bonifatius stood up to hear Procopius remark that it was a very Roman name.

‘I have ever been a friend to the empire.’

‘We have discovered so many friends to the empire since coming here,’ Flavius replied, his tone deeply ironic, ‘it is a wonder we needed to invade at all.’

‘I hazard you will find me a true one.’

‘Why?’

‘I have a tale to impart you, mighty Belisarius, that will enthral you.’

There was no change in tone. ‘I do so love a story.’

‘This one comes with a reward in gold.’

‘For you, no doubt,’ Procopius opined, he having come to join
Flavius and now able to examine the round and shiny red-cheeked face. His employer indicated that he should sit.

‘You are, I suspect, Procopius, the mighty Belisarius’s
assessor
. When you hear what I have to say you will have much to count.’

That slightly threw Procopius who knew the term as a legal one until he realised the Bonifatius had made a joke. Given he had so recently done the same the frown was inappropriate as he demanded the man get to the point.

‘Upon hearing of you landing, King Gelimer—’

‘The usurper Gelimer,’ Flavius corrected, but softly to a reluctant nod.

‘Lord Gelimer gave certain instructions.’

‘To murder his brother, Hilderic, was one. Ammatus may have done the deed but it was Gelimer’s hand.’

Seeing that posed as a question Bonifatius was quick to say that such acts were none of his affair adding, without too much sincerity, how much they were to be regretted.

‘The Lord worried for the treasure of his family.’

‘Which we took out of his camp at Tricamarum,’ Procopius interjected.

That remark earned him the kind of smile with which a kindly parent indulges an errant child and it was not missed by the fastidious secretary, a man who reacted badly when condescended to. But even angry he did not miss the implication.

‘Are you going to tell us there is more?’

‘Naturally Lord Gelimer kept a portion with him, to be used to garner support.’

‘Bribes.’

Bonifatius shrugged. ‘It does no harm for a ruler, even a usurper, to
have visible the means by which he might distribute rewards.’

‘But it was not all.’

‘I doubt your mind can encompass the success of generations of the Vandal people when it comes to the spoils of war. The main royal treasure was loaded aboard a vessel and I had instructions, should matters go against my king, that his property should be transported to Hispania where he was certain he could find refuge with the King of the Visigoths.’

‘And you have disobeyed that injunction?’ Flavius enquired.

‘Far from it, mighty Belisarius—’

‘Do stop calling me that. It irritates me.’

‘A thousand pardons humbly given.’

‘If there was such a thing and reincarnation, as some people of the east believe, this fellow would come back as a snail.’ Procopius had spoken in Greek, but the look his remark received told him this fellow spoke that language as well as he did Latin. ‘Go on.’

‘I set sail on news of his reverse at Tricamarum but ran into contrary winds which have blown us back to our native shore and we are now obliged to throw ourselves on to the mercy of the mighty – forgive me – General Belisarius.’

‘Where is this ship now? I cannot believe it is in the Hippo Regius harbour.’

‘It was not felt such a berth would be secure.’

‘For your head or what you carried?’ That got a non-committal display of open palms. ‘So you have come to treat, using the latter to preserve the former?’

‘Wise as well as mighty. I am, as you will guess, not a sailing man. I also have with me not only the master and crew, people to whom I have become attached, but members of my own family. Naturally I would
want assurances of their safety before surrendering so valuable a prize.’

‘And, of course,’ Procopius remarked, his cynicism barely disguised, ‘you will hand over it all.’

‘Why would I not?’ came the reply, which was sophistry of the highest order.

Flavius had arched his fingers before his mouth, as if in deep thought, but really to hide a smile; this courtier, and he was that to the very end of his own fingertips, did not know of his intention to amnesty every Vandal or of the announcement he was about to make promulgating that throughout the old kingdom.

Procopius leant over to whisper in his ear that this rogue before them would certainly be in the process of hiding a goodly proportion of what he had been tasked to transport, which Flavius could do no more than acknowledge. But the man would have to show some caution; there would be documents somewhere that listed the plunder that the Vandals had accumulated over two centuries, as well as human memory. He would have to be careful what and how much he purloined.

‘And the ship is now where?’ A shrug that annoyed. ‘I could have you racked to find out.’

‘There is a limit to the patience the master will show should I not return.’

On considering that, it became probable that this Bonifatius knew that his late master was locked up in Medeus, or he may not be sure of that as a detail, but he was certain the Vandal hold on the kingdom was no more. If he had dipped his fingers in the pie of Gelimer’s treasure it would be a hard hoard to find. What he was being told was that he, the mighty Belisarius, would not find any of it and he thought he knew what this Bonifatius was really after.

‘You served your king well?’

The word ‘king’ was the clue to a sharp thinker, a long-serving courtier with a bureaucrat’s mind. ‘I would hope if he were present he would say so, and that would apply to the man Gelimer replaced.’ Bonifatius crossed himself, which was not the Arian way. ‘May Hilderic’s soul rest in peace, for he was a good man.’

‘I have taken over responsibility for the governance of what is now an imperial province.’

‘In mere months. Who would have thought it possible?’

‘Perhaps God,’ Procopius sneered.

‘It is to him we look for wisdom,’ came the calm reply.

‘There will be occasions, Bonifatius, when in dealing with those we now rule, matters arise that require a knowledge of how the province was previously governed.’

‘I would see it as my duty to aid the peaceful transfer of power so that as little harm comes to those for whom I care as it does to my own body.’

‘And if I was to offer you a chance to bring that about?’

‘I could not bring myself to reject such a blessed opportunity, for God would never forgive me.’

‘The ship?’

‘Is anchored to the west in a shallow bay, awaiting my return.’

‘Which you will make in my company, Bonifatius.’ Sensing the bodily tension to one side, Flavius added, ‘As, of course, the man who must make an inventory of what we find.’

‘Flabbergasted’ is a word that can only rarely be applied but it was apposite when the holds of the ship were opened and the numerous chests were brought on deck and opened. Not only were there objects of gold and silver studded with precious stones, there were chests of
coin enough to pay for the whole expedition Justinian had initiated. Then there were the relics of Christian martyrs looted from churches and abbeys all through Gaul, South-west France and Hispania, more than enough in these alone for Gelimer to buy from the Visigoths a life of ease.

Procopius was tasked with the listing of the totals, with Flavius questioning Bonifatius about which object would be of most personal worth to Gelimer? The surprise came in the form of the bones of St Sebastian, looted from the Vandal sacking of Rome, now encased in a golden casket and personally venerated by the now deposed king.

Flavius put together a strong party from his
comitatus
led by Boriades – he could not risk their loss – with orders to take the casket to Pharas at Medeus, where it could be shown to Gelimer as proof that his last hope, to escape to Hispania and be in possession of enough treasure to mount a reconquest of the Vandal kingdom – Flavius was sure that would have been his intention – was no more.

Pharas had sat idly watching Medeus for weeks now, knowing that with no food getting in and none of the inhabitants getting out he was engaged in a war of attrition, a siege in which starvation would bring a result. It was a situation that did not suit him and was anathema to his Heruls, who saw the chance of slaughter and plunder in front of their eyes, albeit they needed to be raised to have sight of the city perched on a rocky outcrop, while they sat and cooked their food, drank their wheaten beer and told tales of Germanic bravery and deeds of heroism.