Watching him, Belisarius estimated the man’s intelligence as rather dismal. But even Pharas understood the imperial fury which would fall on the chief officers of the Army of Lebanon if they allowed the Persians to march on Aleppo unopposed.
The junior cavalry chiliarch, Eutyches, suddenly slammed his hand onto the table angrily.
“Mother of God! I told them-” He bit off the words. Clamped his jaw tight. For a moment, he and Belisarius stared at each other. Then, with a faint nod, and an even fainter smile, Belisarius indicated his understanding and appreciation of Eutyches’ position.
The infantry chiliarch spoke then. The timber of his voice reflected Hermogenes’ youth, but there was not the slightest quaver in it. “Let’s move. Now. We all know that Coutzes and Bouzes agreed to combine forces with Belisarius’ army. Since they’re not here, that makes him the rightful commander.”
Eutyches immediately nodded his agreement. After a moment, reluctantly, so did Pharas.
Belisarius seized the moment. “Rouse your army and assemble them into marching formation,” he commanded. “Immediately.” He stalked out of the tent.
Once outside, Belisarius and Maurice returned to their horses. The first glimmer of dawn was beginning to show on the eastern horizon.
Belisarius gazed about admiringly. “It’s going to be a lovely day.”
“It’s going to be miserably hot,” countered Maurice.
Belisarius chuckled quietly. “You are the most morose man I have ever met.”
“I am not morose. I am pessimistic. My cousin Ignace, now, there’s a morose man. You’ve never met him, I don’t believe?”
“How could I have met him? Didn’t you tell me he hasn’t left his house for fifteen years?”
“Yes, that’s true.” The hecatontarch eyed Belisarius stonily. “He’s terrified of swindlers. And rightfully so.”
Belisarius chuckled again. “A lovely day, I tell you.” Then, businesslike: “I’m going to stay here, Maurice. If I don’t chivvy this army, they’ll take forever to get moving. I want you to return to the fort and make sure everything goes properly. I think Phocas and Constantine will manage everything well enough. But I haven’t worked with them in the field before, so I want you to keep an eye on things. Remember the two key points: keep-”
“Keep a large cavalry screen well out in front and make sure the infantry gets dug in quickly. With at least half of them hidden behind the ramparts.”
The general smiled. “A lovely day. Be off.”
As Belisarius had expected, it took hours to get the Army of Lebanon moving. Despite his loud and profane comments, however, he was quite satisfied with the progress. It was unreasonable to expect an army of twelve thousand men to start a march more quickly, with no advance warning or preparations.
By midday, the army was well into its marching rhythm. The temperature was oppressive. The western breeze which sprang up in the afternoon did not help the situation much. True, the wind brought a bit of coolness. But since the army was marching northeast, it also swept the dust thrown up by hooves and feet along the march route instead of away. At least the dust was not blown directly into the soldiers’ faces, although that was a small consolation. Syria in midsummer was as unpleasant a place and time to be making a forced march as any in the world.
However, Belisarius noted that the commanding officers of the Army of Lebanon refrained from complaining. Whatever their misgivings might be regarding this unexpected expedition, under unexpected command, they seemed willing to keep them private. He now took the time to explain to the three chiliarchs his plan for the battle he expected shortly. The two cavalry chiliarchs seemed skeptical of the role planned for the infantry, but forbore comment. They were pleased enough with their own projected role, and the infantry was none of their concern anyway.
As evening approached, Belisarius concentrated on discussing his plans with Hermogenes, the infantry chiliarch. Hermogenes, he was pleased to see, soon began to evince real enthusiasm. All too often, Roman infantry commanders occupied that position by virtue of their incompetence and fecklessness. Hermogenes, on the other hand, seemed an ambitious fellow, happy to discover that his own role in the upcoming conflict was to be more than a sideshow.
By nightfall, Belisarius was satisfied that Hermogenes would be able to play his part properly. In fact, he thought the young chiliarch might do very well. Belisarius decided to place Hermogenes in overall command of the infantry, once the Army of Lebanon was united with his own army. Phocas, his own infantry chiliarch, was a competent officer, but by no means outstanding. On the other hand, Phocas did have a knack for artillery. So Belisarius would put Phocas under Hermogenes’ command, with the specific responsibility for the artillery.
Belisarius pushed the march until the very last glimmer of daylight faded before ordering the army to encamp for the night. The Army of Lebanon, he noted with satisfaction, set up its camp quickly and expertly.
After his command tent was set up, Belisarius enjoyed a few moments of privacy within it. He found the absence of Procopius a relief. For all the man’s competence, and for all that his most sycophantish habits had been beaten down, the general still found his new secretary extremely annoying. But Procopius was now at the villa near Daras-and had been since Belisarius moved his army to Mindouos. The general had seen no use for him during an actual campaign, and had ordered the man to provide Antonina with whatever assistance she needed in running the estate.
He heard a commotion outside and went to investigate. Maurice had arrived, along with Ashot and three other Thracian cataphracts. By the time Belisarius emerged from his tent, his bucellarii were already dismounted from their horses. With them, dismounting more slowly-pain and exhaustion in every movement-were eight members of the two vanished cavalry regiments. One of the eight was an officer, and all of them looked much the worse for wear. Even in the dim moonlight, the general could see that three of them were wounded, although the wounds did not seem especially severe.
The officer limped over to Belisarius and began to stammer out some semicoherent phrases. Belisarius commanded him to hold his tongue until he could summon the chiliarchs and the tribunes. A few minutes later, with the leadership of the Army of Lebanon packed into the command tent, he instructed the returning officer to tell his tale. This he did, somewhat chaotically, with Maurice lending an occasional comment.
Bouzes and Coutzes, it turned out, had not found the pay caravan. What they had found, charging all over the landscape looking for it, was half of the Persian cavalry, charging all over the landscape looking for it likewise. An impromptu battle had erupted, in which the heavily outnumbered Romans had taken a drubbing. The two brothers had been captured. In the end, most of the Roman cavalry had escaped, in disorganized groups, and were being encountered by Belisarius’ own army as it marched forward into position. Though badly demoralized and half- leaderless, the surviving members of the two regiments had been so delighted to find a large formation of Roman troops in the vicinity that they were rallying to the standards of Belisarius’ army.
When the officer concluded his tale, Belisarius refrained from commenting on the stupidity of Bouzes and Coutzes. Under the circumstances, he thought, it would be superfluous. He simply concluded the meeting with a brief review of his plans for the forthcoming battle, then sent everyone to bed.
“Things are going well,” he remarked to Maurice, once they were in private.
Maurice gave him a hard look. “You’re playing this one awfully close, young man.”
Belisarius eyed him. Maurice was not, in private, given to formality and subservience. Even in public, he satisfied himself with nothing more than the occasional “sir” and “my lord.” But he rarely addressed his general by his own name, and hadn’t called him a “young man” since Belisarius smiled crookedly. “I won that battle, too, if you recall.”
“By the skin of your teeth. And it took you weeks to recover from your wounds.” Morosely, rubbing his right side: “Took me even longer.”
Thinking the tent was too gloomy, Belisarius lit another lamp and placed it on the table. Then, after taking a seat in his chair, he examined the hecatontarch’s grim visage. He was quite confident of his own plans, despite their complexity, but he had learned never to ignore Maurice’s misgivings.
“Spit it out, Maurice. And spare me your reproaches concerning the two brothers.”
Maurice snorted. “Them? Drooling babes are cute, but they’ve no business leading armies. I care not a fig about that!” He waved a hand dismissively. “No, what bothers me is that you’re cutting everything too fine. You’re depending on almost perfect timing, and on the enemy to react exactly as you predict.” He gave Belisarius another stony look. “You may recall my first lessons to you when you were barely out of swaddling clothes. Never-”
