Jack Ludlow: Triumph

‘Who should we send?’ asked Constantinus.

Flavius was quick in response. ‘I will go myself.’

‘ Magister! ’ was the anxious response of Procopius.

The secretary got a smile for his obvious apprehension; he was never keen that the man who employed him should expose himself to danger, which he was convinced would have a disastrous effect on the morale of the army should he fall. Seen as a lucky general and a wily one, there was to the mind of Procopius no one to replace him. Added to that was a personal and strong attachment that transcended mere loyalty.

‘I must seek to see our enemies for myself, Procopius, or how will I know how to beat them?’

‘By allowing others to tell you.’

‘No. I need to look this Witigis in the eye, or if not him, the kind of men he commands.’

Not even a general with a superbly well-trained body of personal troops could depart immediately, so it was well into the day when Flavius, Photius at his side, exited the Porta Flaminia and headed towards the Milvian Bridge. This was the site of the battle in which Constantine, the founder of the city to which he gave his name, as well as the ruler who had brought Christianity to the empire, had triumphed. He had defeated his brother-in-law Maxentius to take control of the Roman Empire when it was at its height, to become one body under one emperor.

That was what Flavius had been tasked to recreate, to join under Justinian the two fractured parts of that ancient domain into one whole. If he felt, as a successor to mighty Constantine, the weight of such history, he was also happy to be out of Rome at the head of a thousand-strong body of cavalry. It was not often gifted to a commanding general to be able to act so, his responsibilities as well as the concerns of others placing a bar on such freedoms.

Sure he had moved with commendable speed it came as a shock to find himself facing the vanguard of his enemies and on the Roman side of the bridge, even more so to find many of those from the garrison of the fort he had erected to prevent this had abandoned their post and were now fleeing towards him, quick to tell him that a body of his German mercenaries had defected to the Goths.

The rest of the fort garrison felt they lacked the numbers to fight off the enemy and if that spinelessness was a cause of fury there was no time to indulge it. Nor was there time to make any tactical dispositions with his own men, given the enemy were making ready to attack. The horns were blown and the call to battle immediately initiated, with Flavius to the fore, a thundering cavalry advance met by a like response, so that both forces clashed into each other, and becoming mingled, were immediately engaged in a mass of individual combats.

It had been a long time since Flavius had been able to test his fighting skills in real action, though he had exercised often with his men to keep them sharp. That he needed such abilities now and at their peak soon became obvious. He had been identified, probably he surmised later by those German defectors, and was thus rendered the prime target.

The Goths’ leaders were straining to close with him, well aware that the death of the enemy general was usually the prelude to total victory, and that might include the city itself. Such a manoeuvre was not lost on the men Flavius had personally trained and within a blink he and Photius were surrounded by his bodyguards, who ensured that none of the enemy got close.

In concentrating on him the Goths had lost sight of their main aim, which was, if they could not annihilate them, to drive the Byzantine cavalry back towards the city and hold the Milvian Bridge for their main force. Indeed it was they who lost the initiative and began to fail in both cohesion and forward movement.

The men in command, so busy seeking to kill Flavius and dying in the attempt, left the remainder lacking in leadership and that proved crucial as they broke and streamed back towards the bridge, clattering across the arched stonework with their enemies on their tail.

If success seemed assured, further surprise awaited Flavius on the northern side, proof of how he had underestimated the speed with which Witigis would close in on Rome. On the hills to the north stood lines of infantry drawn up for battle. This was the main Gothic army and with them Witigis had cavalry reinforcements too numerous to contest with.

Once they emerged to mix with their recently defeated comrades there was no option for Flavius but to effect a swift retreat. Given the numbers he faced and the distance he would need to cover for safety, on horses close to being blown by their exertions, he ordered his men to occupy a nearby hill and form up in defence.

These men were Belisarius’s own bucellarii and if no longer trained personally by their general they formed the very body of troops he had first raised when his mentor, the late Emperor Justin, was still alive. As well as swords and spears they carried bows and arrows and these now came into play, Flavius directing salvo after salvo against the advancing Goths, breaking each attempted attack in turn until their enemies, in receipt of unsustainable losses, broke off the engagement.

With horses no longer winded, Flavius could lead his men back towards Rome, though he chose a different route by which to seek to enter the city, aware that if the enemy had been blooded, it was not beaten and they were bound to follow in pursuit. This would have presented no danger at all if the man in command of the Porta Salaria, two entrances east of the Flaminia, had not refused to open the gates.

‘Belisarius is dead,’ came the call from the battlements.

That got the furious and shouted rejoinder from Photius. ‘Fool of a Roman, you are addressing Flavius Belisarius.’

‘The Byzantine general, never! I know you for a barbarian and I will not be a fool for your trickery.’

‘Your head will adorn your gate if you do not open up.’

The head disappeared, leaving Flavius no one with whom to argue. On leaving the city he and his men had been trailed by the curious on foot and in dog carts, nothing to remark upon as it was a commonplace. Such creatures would have seen the opening of the fighting, perhaps even the concerted attempts by the Goths to isolate him, and had, once they hot-footed it back to the city, no doubt chastened by the sight of real fighting as against the romance, spread the rumour he had been killed.

If that was bad, it was worse given the Goth pursuit was now too close to ignore. Flavius was trapped with his back to the walls of Rome and left with no room to contemplate making for another more easterly gate. To accept battle is one thing; to be forced to fight is never comfortable and Flavius verbally had to remind his men of what they now faced, either victory or certain death.

With just enough time to prepare he led them forward, this time in a disciplined line, each rider knee to knee with his nearest compatriots, which would on contact present to the enemy an impenetrable wall of spears. Nor did he order a gallop; the pace was a steady if fast canter, which suited the heavy horses his men rode for they would, having discharged a hail of arrows, then hit the enemy with their weight as well as the spear points of those who rode them.

The Goths would never have faced the like; few warriors in these times had, for cavalry once released were usually lost to whoever commanded them. Not the bucellarii ; this kind of fight was that for which they had been created, the type of warfare for which they practised and now, instead of being to the fore, Flavius, as well as his unit commanders, had fallen back to become part of that continuous line.

The Goths tried to meet them as a body but could not, doing so in a disordered and dog-legged fashion after the assault of archery, which saw their front horsemen die in droves. Within no time at all the rest broke off the contest and retired from the field. Flavius had no intention of pursuing them so he called for the horns to be blown and in an equally disciplined way his men swung their mounts and headed back to the Porta Salaria. As they approached, the gates swung open to allow them entry.