Honour

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

To 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.

Unable to stand it any longer, Pharas mounted an assault and it was a total failure in terms of penetration. He lost a high proportion of his effectives — either killed or so seriously wounded as to be rendered useless — and was left once more staring up at the formidable fortified city, his frustration now double that which it had been before. In his heart he prayed that Flavius Belisarius would realise that this was not war to his Heruls and that he needed to be relieved.

The sight of the troop of his general’s comitatus, unmissable in their distinctive uniforms, cheered everyone who saw their approach until it dawned on them there were no more and that these were never going to be enough to take over the burden. Being Arians, the sight of the relics impressed them, but that did not translate into what they thought a solution.

‘Our general wishes you to show this casket to Gelimer.’

‘You can show it to him, Boriades. I lost a hundred men against those walls. I was about to send to Flavius Belisarius to ask for more and enough so we could be employed elsewhere.’

‘Then I require a truce flag.’

‘What makes you think they’ll respect one? They are Moors.’

Boriades let that pass; to Heruls no other tribe, even a Germanic one, was worthy of trust. He had his own men fashion a cloth of white and he made his own way on foot up the steep mountainside followed by two of his men carrying the heavy casket, which was covered to keep it hidden. Being a Latin speaker he had no trouble in getting one of Gelimer’s supporters to the walls, if not the man himself, who declined to treat with a mere officer of his main enemy.

The first message was that Flavius Belisarius should come himself if he wished to talk of the terms of a Roman surrender, a jest that had laughing all of Gelimer’s men who heard it. Boriades was up to trading jests; he replied that if surrender was on offer, Gelimer should take it from a pauper, if need be.

‘Which he now is.’ That got a curious look from a face which required a steep craning of the neck to see. ‘Now that we have his treasure ship and Bonifatius too.’

‘You speak in riddles.’

Which led Boriades to suspect that the transport was a secret Gelimer had not confided to even his closest adherents, his personal guard, men who had stayed loyal to him in disaster and would probably die to protect him. A poor reward that would be for such service.

‘I speak to you, but I have, now, need to speak with Gelimer.’

‘King Gelimer!’ came the angry response and not from the man Boriades was addressing.

‘I ask only that he comes to the battlements and looks. No words need be exchanged that impinge upon his dignity.’

There was a hiatus, Boriades waiting while he could hear but not see the murmuring of a conversation filled with dispute. The battlements were only the height of two men while the gathering of people was on the wooden fighting parapet. Odd that it seemed that one voice was arguing both positions.

Eventually a new face appeared but there was no speaking. Never having seen Gelimer, Boriades had no idea if it was really him, yet there was no alternative but to assume it to be the case. He called forward his two troopers and whipped the cover off the casket, that producing a gasp. Then he had it opened to reveal the relics laying on their velvet lining. After a wait he then shut the lid and recovered it as the head disappeared.

‘That is a message from Flavius Belisarius who wishes Gelimer to know that, should he surrender, no harm will come to him, a pledge made on the bones of Saint Sebastian.’

More murmuring followed and the man with whom he had originally spoken leant over to talk. He insisted that as a king, Gelimer could only treat with someone whose rank did not insult his standing. Being told that the general was too busy in organising the new imperial province to make such a journey led to proposals made and offers rejected until it was agreed that the two should communicate by letter.

Told he would have to remain until this was complete, Pharas was far from happy. It took weeks of missives flying to and fro until the terms were agreed, and under a strong escort Gelimer was escorted from Medeus to Carthage, there to join all the other Vandals who had surrendered.

The war was over and it had taken six months to subdue a kingdom that had stood for a hundred years.