Casca 9: The Sentinel (13 page)

Once Sicarus was certain that his ruse was working, he turned his men around for the ride to the south. They had come within ten miles of Hippo Regia and now had nearly a hundred and thirty miles to cross before they would come in sight of Carthage. During their ride to the north, Casca had not once crossed swords with a Vandal. He did kill a couple of nomads who'd stumbled accidentally into the path of Sicarus. If they had just ridden on, they would have been left alone. But one had panicked and had tried to draw his bow for a shot at Sicarus. Casca was no more than forty feet from them and to their rear. He took both of them with easy casts from the javelins he carried in a quiver tied to the saddle of his horse.

The ride south was the exact opposite of the one to the north. They neither burned nor pillaged. This time it was a fast, orderly march. To join with the forces of Belisarius, they swung slightly to the east, taking them off the coast road so that they would not have to stop and engage enemy forces at every town and outpost.

Because of the roughness of the ground, it took four days for them to reach the first outriders of Belisarius's army. Sicarus reported to his leader immediately upon entering the camp. His men were left to their own devices under the watchful eyes of their captains till he returned with orders. Hrolvath and Casca walked to the beach to rinse the grime of the last days from themselves.

Belisarius greeted his friend once more, stating that he had arrived exactly on time, which was no more than what was to be expected when one dealt with Sicarus. Sicarus tried to apologize for his appearance, but his words were dismissed by Belisarius, who ordered drink and food to be brought. As he ate and drank, the other leaders of the army were sent for. Carthage was twenty miles away. From the top of the hills, the crenellated walls could be seen floating on drifting waves of desert heat.

The sides of the tent were raised to take advantage of the breeze from the sea. Chairs were set out as the leaders of his army made their entrance;
the comes of the other two mercenary bands, Tortal of the Slavs, and Erlach of the eastern Goths, the regular officers of the heavy and light cavalry, and the infantry with their aides. Belisarius knew his men well, having personally selected each of them for this mission.

After making certain that his officers were all present and seated, Belisarius began his presentation, using a sand table with the features of the terrain they were to fight on reproduced in miniature atop it.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen." Using his baton of office as a pointer, he began to disclose his battle plans and repeated, to everyone's boredom, the reasons for their being where they were. "You all know that the city of Carthage has always been a thorn in the ass of the rest of world, no matter who sat behind her walls.

"It is not exactly the same as when Caesar ruled Rome, for we are not so dependent now on the grain of Africa for our survival. But as always, Carthage sits at the junction where her ships can control all passage to and from Spain, Gaul, and Britannia. As you know, they are even now establishing their own colonies once more on the islands of Sicily and Sardinia. Once this is
accomplished, they will have a stranglehold on the commerce and people of the western Mediterranean, effectively isolating us from those few cities which still pay Constantinople fealty. We will be completely isolated from the western reaches.

"It is bad enough that barbarians control the Italian mainland and most of Gaul and Spain, leaving us only our few small outposts as tokens. But those tokens are critical to us if we are to one day retake the Western Empire from the savages.

He nodded his head at two of his mercenary leaders, who were not from tribes noted for their table manners. "This naturally does not include any of our noble allies and friends."

The two tribesmen nodded their heads in understanding.

They didn't give a rat's ass whether the Romans thought them to be savages or not, as long as their gold was good.

Belisarius ran his baton up the coastline of Africa, from Egypt all the way to Pillars of Hercules, where the coasts of Africa and those of Spain were separated by only a short span of open water. "This," he said with determination, "could be our passage to the west once the power of the Vandals is broken. Gentlemen, we will secure that passage. Now let us see in what manner it can be done, and with the least loss of lives on our part"

Belisarius had his timing carefully arranged, but he still needed to draw the Vandals out of the city to avoid a protracted siege or the possibility of aid coming to them from their sometimes friendly cousins, the Goths. He had sent out strong patrols to provide his force with a screen through which the Vandals, to his knowledge, had not been able to penetrate.

He had selected the site for his army with that in mind: a long cove with a rim of hills around it that gave him some protection from would-be observers. If he was successful in keeping the Vandal scouts from detecting his true numbers and disposition, perhaps there was a way to pull them out from the safety of their walls and into the open, where his better disciplined forces could deal with them.

He gave the orders to advance to the walls of Carthage, but not with his entire force. He took only ten thousand of his men with him, leaving the cataphracti and mercenaries behind, along with much of the light infantry. Perhaps because of the messages from Hippo Regia, the Vandal king, Gelimer, chose not to meet them in the open. Gelimer had prepared as best he could in the short time he had since the first words of the Byzantine landings had come to him.

Sicarus and his bands were ordered to remain behind with the others till they were sent for. The engineers brought the siege machines within range of the walls under the cover of darkness. Belisarius wasted no time. As soon as they were in place, pots of Greek fire were hurled over the walls. Archers gave what support they could, not really wanting to do much damage. But it did give the impression that the city was under a determined attack.

The fires started by pots of Greek fire set many of the houses and buildings on fire, adding to the growing feeling of panic in Gelimer. It wasn't till dawn that he was able to see the forces of Belisarius laid out in an open field to the west. When he did, the sense of relief that there were so few Byzantines attacking him caused him to burst out in nearly hysterical laughter. If this was the grand army of Belisarius, he certainly would have no trouble dispatching them. He had those on the field below outnumbered by at least ten to one, and the arrogant fool hadn't even brought his best warriors with him. Without the cataphracti to deal with, his lighter, quicker warriors could ride circles around them, picking them off like doves. There would be no real threat to their center, which was usually the spot where the heavy cavalry used their weight to the best advantage, smashing through the enemy lines to the rear and creating a gap through which the rest of their forces could follow and roll up the flanks from the inside. Who did Belisarius think he was, Julius Caesar?

Still, Gelimer was cautious. He waited one day. Then two became three, and three turned into ten. No more warriors joined the forces of Belisarius, and he was convinced by his chieftains that Belisarius had his complete army at the walls.

Once he had determined what he believed to be the true strength of Belisarius's army, it was a different story. Calling his chieftains, he ordered his full army to prepare to attack through all the gates of the city. It would be easy to surround the belligerent fools below and then cut them down. Of one thing he was certain: Even if he fell, that pewling Christian Hilderic would not take the throne of the Vandals.

Belisarius kept in constant contact with those left behind by the usual system of having a series of mirrors set up to send signals. This was a most effective means of rapid communication, except when the days were cloudy. But that was not the norm in Africa. Here Belisarius could count on good days and fair skies.

It was with the flashing mirrors that the remaining host of his army was given the order to advance to an abandoned town called Ad Decimum, ten miles from Carthage. It was there that Belisarius had decided that the decisive battle would be fought.

Gelimer led his personal guard of warriors out the main gate as others exited through the other gates on either side of the city, joining to form a pincer in which he would crush the Byzantines like a walnut. It was with some surprise that he found an enemy that wouldn't fight. By taking only his light cavalry, Belisarius was able to conduct a fighting withdrawal, leading Gelimer farther away from his walled battlements. His siege machines he burned himself rather than let them fall into the hands of the Vandals. They were not the only ones he had in his arsenal, and they could be replaced by those still in the holds of his ships in the harbor.

Belisarius fought as a gnat does, nipping at the ears and face but never staying long enough to be swatted. He was always just out of reach. As he drew Gelimer to him, the bulk of his army moved into position at Ad Decimum. From the use of his sand displays, each unit knew its exact place to be, though they had never seen the area before. If Belisarius was correct, he should reach them within an hour, and right behind him would be the Vandal host in hot pursuit.

Near the town of Ad Decimum, on a broad plain with several large gullies to either side, the heavy infantry had been drawn up into a strong front line of three bands, with their men in ranks five deep with a gap of a hundred feet between them, to provide cover for Belisarius when he and his retreating forces reached them. Then they would deploy to either side to join the rest of the cavalry, which was set in hollows on either side of the flat ground, where they would not be seen by the pursuing Vandals. Sicarus and his men were on the right flank. Standing by their mounts on the right were the cataphracti, set so that they could attack the weak left of the Vandals. To the rear of the front line was also a reserve of two half bands behind the second rank of light infantry. The front line, if they saw that the first was giving way, was to wheel to the rear and form a support for the center as the reserve resisted any enemy attempts to turn their flanks.

A sound of drumming reached their ears. All ranks stood to arms, ignoring the growing heat of the day and palms that suddenly grew slippery with sweat. When the standard of Belisarius crested a low rise to their front, a cheer went up, but only from the center. Those in concealment had strict orders not to make any sound at all, on the pain of death. Belisarius and his force rode like the devil itself was after them once they'd seen the safety of their own ranks standing before them. The hooves of their animals raised clouds of dust that drifted over the plain, a gritty, eye-watering cloud. The light cavalry of Belisarius rode without hindrance through the gaps created for them, rushing straight to the rear, where they fanned out under the cover of their protecting forces to join their comrades on either flank.

Belisarius was in the forefront of the men to reach the security of their own ranks. He leaped from his tired horse to a fresh one and placed himself in the center of the second line. From there, he would be able to get a better idea of the manner in which the battle was progressing than he would if he was at the head of his cavalry in the middle of the fight. His courage was not in question. This was a time for brains to direct brawn.

With his cavalry placed in three separate units on both sides of the plain and out of sight, he would be able to maintain a great degree of flexibility in the manner in which he would conduct the battle. Although he was still outnumbered, the surprise element of having his main forces suddenly appear on the Vandals' flanks in large numbers once they had committed to an attack on his center which he had no doubt they would – should – give him the leverage he needed to make a complete sweep of the Vandal forces.

Gelimer halted his side-heaving charger on the same low rise from which the Byzantines had first seen Belisarius. He gave the signal for all to halt. His men drew up in a single linear mass, facing the Byzantines in front of them. He was surprised. There were more of the effeminate boy lovers out front than he had expected. Belisarius did have a reserve force. Gelimer scratched his beard, crushing a crippled flea in the process. He called his war chiefs to him. Between them, they made a count of the forces facing them and found that they still had an advantage of more than five to one; there was still no sign of the cataphracti.

For the most part, all he could see was some heavy infantry with archers backing them up. The horsemen in sight were those of Belisarius, who had been at the siege of Carthage. This, more than anything else, gave Gelimer the confidence to commit his warriors to a direct frontal assault. He still had a nagging feeling that he was being sucked in; even when he gave the order for his men to make their assault from out of their walls. Now he found that he had been right in his intuitions. Belisarius had been sandbagging him and did have a reserve; but that reserve was still not enough to resist the massed charge of his fifty thousand mounted Vandals. His own infantry was coming up behind them and would swell his force to nearly a hundred thousand.

Both sides gave themselves a needed breather before beginning the next round. Gelimer had to wait for his infantry, and Belisarius needed to give his horses a rest.

Aides were sent to all commands, telling them to wait for his trumpeters to give them their signals: a different call for each maneuver. Once the battle was engaged, the trumpets would be the only thing that would be audible over the sounds of battle.

They waited, each side gathering its strength and nerve. Mouths went dry and sticky, the gums tasting foul and greasy from the fear inside. Sweat ran in salty streams from spines and armpits.

Sicarus crawled on his belly, accompanied by Casca, to get a look at the Vandal line about four hundred yards away. At that distance, Casca could tell that they were not the same warriors he had faced in the forests of Germania or in the Balkans. Even from that distance, he could see that the heavy horned helmets were gone, as were the heavy hide shields. Now they wore mostly light, flowing robes in the manner of the Arabs and nomads.

From the Vandals, kettle drums began to beat, accompanied by the lighter thumps of the tambours of their native contingents. The Vandal infantry was approaching. It would be there soon. Horses stamped their hooves in anticipation; perhaps they, even more than the men, knew that soon the dry fields would be watered with blood.

It was difficult, but Belisarius had no choice; he had to wait for Gelimer to commit his forces to the attack before he could do anything. He moved among his men in the center, speaking to one and then another of the soldiers, giving encouragement to them, letting them
know that he was with them and would be to the end. Whatever fate they encountered would also be his. If they won, he won. If they died, so would he.

Most of the infantry of Gelimer came from the tribesmen of the region who were either hired for service from their chiefs or had long memories for ancient wrongs done by Rome to their ancestors. They looked forward to the chance of spilling the blood of an old enemy. They were more like the Germanic warriors of the last century than the Vandals, being lightly armed with wicker or thatch shields. Few had any armor, and most relied on light throwing spears and long straight swords of poor steel or iron that often as not would bend when they struck against a proper shield. But they were still a force to be reckoned with, for their courage was great in the attack. They would not be broken or discouraged by the first failure or even the second.

But after that, if the Byzantine lines held them, they would lose their courage, for they believed that all failures and disasters came from the gods. If they couldn't win after two tries, the gods were against them and there was no sense trying again. That was why Belisarius had to hold. To be sure of victory, the center had to hold for two assaults before he could let loose his main force and his reserve. The natives, in loincloths and robes, marched on scaly hard soles across the field to join with the force of mounted Vandal cavalry. A trilling came from a strange manner they had of pursing their lips, making an eerie whistling noise in time with the beating of tambours and cymbals.

Belisarius knew that they would not wait long. The patience of savages is short. Once they arrived on the scene, he knew that Gelimer would have to advance soon, or his natives would begin to doubt him. Gelimer would lead the attack with his cavalry to punch a line in the Byzantine wall, creating an opening through which his infantry could swarm and break up the ranks of the Byzantines, dragging them down by sheer weight of numbers.

Gelimer, too, was familiar with the impatience of his native contingents. Once they arrived, he had to move. Placing them in a solid mass behind his horsemen, he began to advance slowly, giving them time to keep up with the riders, not wanting them too far behind when his cavalry hit the Byzantine center. The Bedouins picked up the beat of the hooves on their drums and added to it, gradually increasing the tempo, as if trying to force the cavalry on faster and faster. The tempo gradually ate its way into the minds and pulses of the riders and their horses. They increased their walk to a canter, loosening straps that held axes to their saddles or adjusting their grip on lances and javelins.

From a canter to a gallop, Gelimer was in the front rank, sword bared. There was no need for him to give orders; the heat of battle was beginning to set its own special time frame. Less than two hundred feet from the mainline of the Byzantines, the Vandals broke spontaneously and raggedly into a dead run, just in time to meet a hail of arrows from the second rank of the Byzantine line. Men and horse
s went down, some with over ten arrows sticking out of their bodies. The terrible screams of wounded and dying horses were easily heard over those of the men.

Belisarius was ready; this was it. The first rank of heavy infantry readied themselves, setting heavy spears to the earth, bracing for the assault of the horses. The second rank continued to send their shafts into the massed milling horde of Vandals.