Triumph

CHAPTER TWO

There was nothing to trouble the army on the march north, this being a part of the world unused to war. The various towns which Flavius approached, lacking walls and faced with overwhelming force, quickly surrendered. In the present conqueror they found a man who had long ago set his stamp on what his troops were allowed to do in recently taken territory – no despoliation, anything acquired paid for, women treated with respect – and he had been known to hang transgressors in the past if his strictures were ignored.

His army, and that included his senior commanders, had been subjected to the same speech before they departed Sicily, one he had assailed them with on previous campaigns, a special emphasis being addressed to the newly joined troops under Constantinus. The land they were going to was being brought back to its rightful ownership, that of the true Roman Emperor. The people they would encounter, Goths and their allies apart, were not to be treated as enemies but responsibilities, and just in case anyone harboured doubts, there were sound reasons for kindness.

Required to move at speed and not favoured by numbers, they comprised a host that was in search of a quick result. They also had to be fed and there was no time for foraging or forced extraction of supplies. Captured cities would pay tribute to the new rulers and that money would be used to purchase what they needed, with word flying ahead to tell other cities they had nothing to fear.

Plunder would come in time but it would be taken from the Goths not the Italians. Two Isaurians who did not heed the message paid with their lives for their transgression, the army marching past the tree that held the two swinging corpses to drive home the point. That second-in-command Constantinus did not agree with either policy of the Belisarian reaction was plain if unspoken. It was also ignored.

The army sought as much as possible to stay near the coast and in touch with the accompanying fleet, not always possible as the old Roman road moved inland. Even if it was not in perfect repair everywhere, there was still enough of the old pave to permit fast travel and with no enemy close by – Ebrimuth had assured Flavius that the main Goth army was still in Ravenna – it was possible to eschew caution in favour of progress.

There was no need for a cavalry screen. The only people out ahead were his own surveyors and foresters, the former selecting campsites, into which the soldiers following behind would find lines and markers laid out within which to raise their tents. The foresters would have spent the day gathering timber on which the army could cook the supplies that came in the commissary waggons bringing up the rear.

Naturally there was a section set aside for the commanders, usually in the centre of the encampment and on a slight mound and it was here that Flavius Belisarius would entertain his closest advisors and share with them his thoughts, always taking a chance to drive home his message that if this was conquest it came with duties.

As for what lay behind the day’s march, anything pertaining to that fell to Procopius and Solomon his domesticus. With a substantial number of clerks to aid him, the general’s faithful secretary and assessor, with his sharp legal mind, was required to produce a quick summary of the nature of the provinces once ruled from Rome.

That included titles to land, expected annual yields, population numbers broken down by sex and age, resources such as iron, tin and salt, all of which, once passed by the commander, would be sent back to Constantinople so that Justinian should know the value of his conquests. Solomon was expert at supply, it being no easy task to feed a host the size of that his master led and to him fell the task of purchasing food.

If it was a progress not a march, that ended abruptly when they came to Naples, which not only had sound and formidable walls but a Goth garrison, albeit one few in number. As his fleet sailed into the huge bay, Flavius sent word that they were to press as close as they could to the Neapolitan sea wall but to stay out of range of any ballistae, which would be equipped to fire inflammables, deadly to ships. The aim was not for the fleet to fight but to let the citizens see that, with an army outside the land walls, they were cut off from supply.

Next he sent word to the city demanding the surrender of the garrison and also asking for the presence of someone to represent the indigent population, the notables who ran the city, men with whom he could parley. The Goths who made up the garrison did not even deign to reply but in due course a trio of Neapolitan negotiators were brought to his tent, one filled with his senior officers in full battle equipment.

To get there these worthies had been obliged to make their way between two long files of heavily armed soldiers. That message of strength driven home, Flavius was as charming as he could be, inviting them to sit and take wine, talking of matters unrelated to that which needed to be discussed. In reality he was seeking to gauge who might be willing to aid him and who might resist any blandishments he made, for he could not hope for common agreement. Naples, like any other great polity, would have factions in its ruling elite and the strongest of those would prevail.

Having set the genial mood to these stony-faced envoys, his first serious question was quite abruptly produced. ‘The Goths occupy the fort, I take it?’

‘I would not be willing to divulge their numbers,’ was the rather sour response from one of the envoys, a pinch-faced fellow named as Asclepiodotus.

‘I do not recall asking, but by your reply I can deduce they do not have the bodies needed to fully man the city walls.’

Asclepiodotus looked annoyed then, as much with himself as with this general who had caught him off guard, only to have to turn and face the next speaker, the second in command of the army, Constantinus, who naturally had the right to speak on such matters.

‘Thus, should you wish to resist, it must be with the aid of the citizenry, who will struggle to stand against trained soldiers.’

Another notable, named Stephanus, responded to that. ‘You did not ask us here to issue threats but to discuss terms. I believe it is first the habit of any putative conqueror to tempt with concessions?’

Flavius and Procopius, also present, exchanged a swift but discreet glance, followed by an almost imperceptible nod from the general. This Stephanus, quick to mention concessions, might be a weak link in what was, at first glance, not a trio willing to accede to demands that really did not have to be stated: open the gates, let us enter and we will take care of the garrison holding the fort.

The third envoy, Pastor, glared at Stephanus, obviously irritated by the tone of his question. ‘Are we here for crumbs? It is for Flavius Belisarius to plead with us, we who make terms, not he!’

‘You seek to impress us with display,’ added Asclepiodotus, his manner offhand as he ran his eyes over the assembled officers, ‘but it takes no great ability to count your own numbers.’

‘I have what I need, Asclepiodotus.’

‘To defeat the Ostrogoths? How many Roman armies thinking themselves superior have left their bones on a battlefield fighting against barbarians?’

‘Perhaps I do not need to fight. My ships blockade your harbour and my soldiers control the countryside.’

‘Your coming is no mystery,’ Pastor said, the implication obvious: food had been stockpiled in case of a siege.

‘I will put aside modesty and assume you know of me,’ Flavius responded, his voice still lacking in any sign of irritation. ‘Therefore you will know that with open gates you have nothing to fear from me and the men I lead. Lock them against me and the matter is altered.’

‘We are but representatives of a larger body, General,’ Stephanus interjected, cutting across his pinched-faced companions who looked set to provide a rude and possibly impertinent answer. ‘We have a senate at our backs to which we must report what you say.’

The other two grunted and nodded in a way that seemed to convey that the soft words of the man addressing them meant little.

‘That I appreciate. What I offer to you is no blood wasted for that which is inevitable, including your Goths if they are practical, set against much death and destruction of what is a pearl of a city and one the Emperor would be both happy and grateful to embrace.’

If the talking continued it did not do so to very much purpose. None of these men, Stephanus included, made any meaningful proposals, repeating the need to consult while Flavius could only repeat his mixture of blandishments and mild threats. Time ran into the sand and the trio departed, each with a gift from their host of some object of value given to him on the way from Rhegium by a less belligerent city.

Flavius waited till his tent emptied, leaving himself and Procopius alone, his secretary being the man with whom he could share his most intimate thoughts. ‘The Stephanus fellow seems the least ill-disposed.’

That got an emphatic nod. ‘I will seek to get word to him of the rewards he can expect for advancing our cause. I take it I am allowed to be generous?’

Flavius agreed to the bribe but made no enquiry as to how that would be undertaken; it was the sort of nefarious activities at which Procopius excelled. Not for the first time he was inclined to draw a comparison of this man to Justinian and their twin talents for intrigue.

Ever willing to call the Emperor a friend, Flavius could recall too many occasions, long before his rise to his imperial estate, when Justinian had embroiled him in deep conspiracies, never at any time being entirely inclusive in what he was seeking to achieve. It was by those means he had got his childless uncle raised to the purple, his own elevation thus brought about as night follows day.

Yet there was a difference between the two; he trusted Procopius absolutely to act on his behalf and had never had a moment’s doubt that such would be the case, a care that extended even to his troubled private life and that was where comparison faltered. Justinian was too much the weathervane for true reliance, blown off course by his own whims as well as the machinations of the equally devious and tough-minded Theodora.

That thought brought him back to his own marital complications, which were never far from the surface of his considerations. His wife Antonina, left behind in Sicily, had, while in Carthage, formed an unsuitable attraction to their adopted son, Flavius’s godson Theodosius, something to which he had been blind while occupied fighting the Vandals. Procopius, more in sorrow than prompted by any other emotion, had informed him of what possibilities he had failed himself to see.

If he had harboured any residual doubts they had been challenged by one of Antonina’s own attendants, a slave girl called Macedonia. She had stated as fact that which Procopius had only really hinted at. When he challenged his wife with the information given to him by a person well placed to observe, she had merely dismissed it as irrelevant and a lie.

Theodosius and Antonina were both in Sicily and with his fleet rejoined and in regular contact with the island he had sent Photius to find out if he still had cause for concern, something his position barred him from personally investigating. The young man’s return had not brought comfort; Antonina was, it seemed, behaving like a lovesick adolescent and this with a man twenty years her junior.

Of course, no one would have spoken of such matters in his presence but Photius was seen differently, a youth to be ribbed with sly asides and barely disguised jokes as well as one able to see with his own eyes. Having reported what had been imparted to him, the more salacious jests tempered, the young man gave Flavius a look that he had employed before, one that seemed to ask why his stepfather did not just dispose of them both.

Flavius could not explain, for to do so made him sound even more of a potential dupe, quite beside the fact that such an act would be mortal sin enough as to render him an outcast. Strong in his faith and dedicated to honourable behaviour, he could not repudiate a woman whom he had married, taking solemn vows as he did so, even if her reported conduct broke his heart.

But there was another reason and that impacted on his career as a soldier as well as the campaign in which he was now engaged, one he was sure required him to lead in order to be successful. If that was immodest for Flavius it was based on a sound appreciation of the qualities of the man who stood to replace him.

Constantinus was a good general but for Flavius he was too eager a conqueror. Even in Illyria, where he had successfully campaigned in a land which was firmly the territory of his emperor, he had apparently treated the local population as if they were an extension of his enemy, allowing his troops the freedom to despoil as they saw fit.

Antonina was also a bosom and long-time companion of the Empress Theodora, indeed it was she who had brought them into intimate contact within the imperial palace. Having, he suspected, manoeuvred them into marriage – Flavius was honest enough to admit to being willingly seduced by a woman for whom he still had a deep affection – Theodora had insisted Antonina accompany Flavius on his North African campaign.

Unsure of why that should be it had taken Procopius to alert him to a depressing fact and one not in dispute. His wife was writing to Theodora relating anything her husband uttered that would be taken as disrespectful to both Justinian and herself. When he thought on that he was brought to the blush by some of the jests he had made, sure they would never be reported to someone ever on guard for treachery.

Theodora resented his friendship with her husband, which preceded her own connection. Flavius Belisarius could plead till the stars fell from the sky that he had no ambition other than to serve a man to whom he owed a debt and he considered a friend, as well as an empire to which he had dedicated his life. It would be in vain.

The Empress, risen from such a humble background – she had been a singer, an excitingly daring dancer and perhaps more besides – had raw nerves when it came to her class allied to her position. She knew there were people who would be only too willing to rip her into small pieces, and saw disloyalty and threats to imperial security everywhere.

That applied very much to a man in whom Justinian was willing to confide, had been too often alone with and had proved to be a superbly successful soldier, a set of credentials that in the past had led to imperial usurpation. Added to that, Flavius Belisarius was popular with the people, cheered wherever he went in his consular year. How could he not hanker for more?

‘How went the parley?’ Photius asked, once more admitted to his stepfather’s command tent.

‘In the balance I would say.’

The trio of worthies had been back three times and so far nothing had been concluded, each time the excuse of consultation being advanced to continue delay. Flavius knew that was only partly true; they were really waiting to see if the Goths of Ravenna were going to come to their aid.

‘And if they do not?’

‘Then it depends, Photius, on only one factor. Do the notables of Naples think we can win in Italy or do they expect us to be defeated by Theodahad, in which case surrendering to us would be a very precarious move indeed, for there would be retribution on a scale of which only the Goths are capable. Perhaps we shall get a better indication tomorrow when they have promised to return with a definitive answer.’

Flavius put an arm round the shoulder of the youngster, still looking troubled by the information he had brought from Sicily. ‘Enough of this, come join me on my nightly stroll.’

It was a habit of Flavius, when circumstances permitted, to walk the lines of the encampment before his men bedded down for the night. If they called out to him he would answer, if they seemed inclined to talk he would indulge them, and if one or two yelled out a demeaning joke, that would invoke genuine laughter.

Flavius was ever aware that leading an army was personal; these men might in truth be fighting for Constantinople but they would only do so effectively if they were also fighting for him.

It was a lone envoy that came the following dawn. Stephanus, shown to the general’s tent by Solomon, carried with him a list of demands so comprehensive and challenging that he was genuinely embarrassed to deliver them. Questioned, he admitted that the list had been drawn up at the insistence of his two fellow negotiators, Asclepiodotus and Pastor, who held the greatest sway in the senate and the city. It was telling these two had not dared to consider delivering them alongside Stephanus, no doubt fearing for their heads.

Having played a careful hand, Flavius had kept his overriding purpose well hidden. The city he needed to take possession of was not Naples but Rome. To do that he must get to the city before Theodahad reinforced it to such a degree that a siege would be difficult, if not impossible – the Eternal City, well defended, was too huge a task for an army of the size he led.

Naples mattered only in that, like Rhegium, he could not leave it behind and hostile on what was his line of communication and his possible line of retreat in case of failure. Outside a very tight circle of senior commanders such an eventuality was never discussed, but it would be a poor general who did not consider the possibility. Every one of his inferior commanders had been just as circumspect as he, but they too would keep it in mind, the object in falling back being to keep the army intact so as to fight another day.

‘Stephanus, I feel you have been honourable in this.’

‘I seek only that which is best for my city, magister.’

‘Tell me, if I accede to these demands will that get me what I want?’

The envoy, a plump and prosperous-looking individual with greying curls and rounded cheeks had the good grace to look embarrassed, which prompted Flavius to look kindly upon him.

‘I bid you go back to your council of notables and tell them I agree.’

Flavius looked at the list once more so did not see the surprise on the face of Stephanus. He was being told that he would be required to pay a huge indemnity in talents of gold; that his soldiers could not enter the city and he could only do so by invitation, while the Goths in the fortress would be given the option to remain or depart unharmed, added to which his fleet must return to Sicily, this to be verified by a Neapolitan escort vessel.

‘Magister, I-’

Flavius held up his hand to stop the clearly uncomfortable envoy, who even with his plump cheeks seemed to suddenly age, so concerned was his expression, which underlined what Flavius supposed: accept these demands and more would follow.

‘You are an honest man, Stephanus and I suspect that you are singular in that regard, but tell your fellow citizens this. My design on their city is one in which I seek to secure my own safety and that of my men. I have no wish to fight to attain that but if I must I will, and do not let them think their walls will be enough to protect them. I bid them consider this. Naples is not the first fortified place to defy the kind of men I lead, so I suggest they consider the fate of those which did so in the past.’

Stephanus tried to speak but he could not find the words to respond; he merely bowed low and left. Flavius followed him out of the tent and looked south to where the great volcano of Vesuvius smoked from its cone, that sending out a larger belch of sulphur, which seemed to him, as he crossed himself, to be a harbinger of something awful.

‘Solomon, a call to my officers, if you please, to assemble here so we can finalise the plans for the assault on Naples.’

‘They will not surrender?’ Photius asked.

‘No. They think they can keep us talking and to no purpose.’

As was supposed, the acceptance of such conditions did not satisfy the likes of Pastor and Asclepiodotus or the factions they led; such men had made up their minds to resist from the very beginning, fearing the Goths more than Flavius Belisarius. Put upon Stephanus was again the unfortunate bearer of this news, at which point Flavius gave him the option of staying within the Byzantine camp or returning to Naples. Dignified as ever, he chose to go home.