Julian (65 page)

"That is because we regard killing as a necessary and sacred part of life," said Ormisda.

"So do we," said Priscus. "Only we pretend to abhor it."

I chose not to correct him. I was-am—in much too good a mood. I had bathed in the Great King's marble bath, and put on one of his fine linen tunics. Apparently we are the same height. I also found a strongbox containing a number of Sapor's personal ornaments, among them a gold ram's head helmet with the imperial ensign on it. I gave it to Ormisda.

"You may as well get used to wearing this," I said. He took it from me. Then he dropped to his knees and kissed my hand. "The House of Persia is grateful to you for all eternity."

"A generation of peace will do," I said dryly, wondering how long it would be before the Great King Ormisda would prove disloyal to Rome. Men are without gratitude, particularly kings.

Ormisda does not know it, but I have decided to maintain an army at Ctesiphon indefinitely.

While the philosophers amused themselves in debate, Ormisda and I met the generals in an adjoining room. On the table was a map of Ctesiphon which Ormisda had found in the Great King's library. He believes it reliable. Victor, Nevitta, Dagalaif, and Arintheus were present; also the chief engineer.

I came straight to the point. "There is no way for us to approach Ctesiphon by water." I pointed to the map. "We are within a triangle. Above us the King's River; behind us the Euphrates; in front of us the Tigris. The Euphrates and Tigris Rivers meet here, just south of Ctesiphon. But we can't sail from the Euphrates to the Tigris because Ctesiphon commands the Tigris at the natural juncture. Also, we would be downstream from the city. As you know, we'd hoped to use the King's River, which ioins the Tigris above Ctesiphon, but that section of the channel is dry. We are left only one choice, to open up Trajan's canal." I pointed to a dotted line on the chart. "When Traian was here, he dug a deep channel from the Euphrates to the Tigris, following the bed of an old Assyrian canal. The chief engineer has been studying this canal for the past two days. He believes it can be reopened."

The chief happily listed the many difficulties involved in opening the canal, the principal being a stone dam the Persians had built across the channel to prevent invaders from using it as Trajan had. But once the dam was breached, the chief engineer was positive the canal would be navigable. After a brief discussion, I gave orders for the dam to be broken.

The generals are in a good humour. Dagalaif and Victor are particularly eager for a decisive battle. Ormisda is nervous: so close to the fulfilment of all his dreams. I then dismissed everyone except Nevitta, who asked to stay behind. Disturbing. Ch.

Priscus
: What did they talk about? I think Nevitta must have warned him that there was a plot against his life. "Disturbing" suggests this. "Ch" means the Christians. Put the two together and the meaning is plain.

On 24 May the channel was opened and the fleet crossed the three miles from the Euphrates to the Tigris, anchoring half a mile north of the city of Ctesiphon, which rose from the green valley of the Tigris like a mountain of brick whose massive weight seemed quite enough to cause the earth itself to bend. From our side of the river we could see nothing of the city except the walls, which are half again as high as those of Constantinople. At regular intervals, semicircular towers support the thick masonry. Between the Tigris and the city there is an open plain where, during the night of 25 May, the army of the Great King gathered.

Anatolius woke me at sunrise and together we left the camp and went to the river bank, where half our army was already gathered to observe the enemy. It was a splendid sight. The Persian army numbered almost a hundred thousand men. Or so we now claim. No one ever knows how large the enemy's army is, but we always say that it is three times the size of ours. I think this one probably was. Behind a wooden palisade on the steep river bank, the Persians were drawn up in battle formation. A crossing seemed madness. All around us soldiers talked worriedly among themselves. It did not take a skilled veteran to realize how difficult it would be to cross that river under fire and, even worse, to climb the slippery river bank and assault the barricade.

I turned to Anatolius, who looked as worried as I felt. "We can't cross here."

"Perhaps the Emperor means to move upstream. To cross a few miles to the north then, circling round—you know, the classic Constantine manoeuvre…" But in spite of his amateur's passion for strategy, Anatolius mumbled into silence. For almost an hour we stared gloomily at the Persians who stared right back. Then one of Julian's heralds appeared, calling the men to assemble. The Emperor would give the day's orders in personj.

"Nothing short of complete retreat will satisfy me," I said, while Anatolius wondered what would happen if we simply ignored Ctesiphon and turned south to the Persian Gulf "where the pearls come from. Very rich country, too, from all accounts."

Julian appeared to the assembled troops. He was exuberant: his eyes shone; his cloak for once was clean; his nose was only slightly peeling from sunburn.

"Men, you have seen the army of Persia. More important, they have seen us!" He paused for cheering. There was none. He cut the silence short. Generals who allow an unfortunate pause to last too long are apt to find the silence filled with that one rude phrase which sets off mutiny.

But Julian had a surprise for us. "We are all tired today. It has been a difficult week, clearing the channel, moving the fleet, setting up camp. So today we shall have games. I propose horse racing, with gold prizes for the winners. The betting will be your affair since there are, I understand, a few Petulantes who know about racing odds. I'm sure they'll help the rest of us. Have a good time."

He dismissed the men with a wave, like a schoolteacher giving his pupils an unexpected holiday.

Everyone was stunned. If it had been any other general, the men would have thought him mad. But this was Julian who had never lost a battle. After the first gasp of surprise, the men delightedly cheered their young leader who could, with such aplomb, order games while the entire army of the Great King of Persia was drawn up only a mile away. To a man they trusted Julian's luck and skill. If he was this confident, who were they to worry? So the army did as he told them, and spent the day in races and games.

That night Julian ordered a surprise crossing of the Tigris. The army was divided into three sections. When the first had secured a footing on the far side, the second would embark, and so on. The generals opposed the plan. Victor pointed to the thousand Persian campfires which filled the horizon. "They have every military advantage."

"Not every," said Julian ambiguously. "You'll see that I'm right. Tell your men to board ship. I want everyone across by morning."

Four thousand men boarded five empty cargo ships, under the reluctant command of Victor. I've never seen soldiers so frightened. Just before they left, Victor quarrelled with Julian on the river bank. None of us heard what was said, but Victor departed in a rage and Julian was uncharacteristically quiet. The ships disappeared into the darkness. Silence. An hour passed. Julian paced up and down, pretending to be interested only in the remaining ships which were to take the rest of the army across the river once the Persian side had been secured. The army waited. Suddenly flaming arrows pierced the black night. Victor's men were landing. The Persians were attacking them. First one, then two, then all five of the boats were set afire by Persian arrows. Far off, we could hear Victor's men shouting to one another as they clambered up the slippery river bank by the flickering light of burning ships. On our side of the river, panic was beginning. Julian saved the situation with one of his inspired lies. Just as we were all positive the landing had failed and the men were lost, Julian pointed to the five burning ships and shouted, "That's it! The burning of the ships. That's the signal, Victor's signal. The landing's a success! To the boats! To the boats!"

I don't know how he did it, but he made the men believe him. He raced up the down the river bank, shouting, pushing, coaxing the men on to the landing craft. Then he himself leapt into the first boat just as it was about to leave the shore. The men were now as excited as he. They crowded on to the remaining boats. Some even floated across the river on their shields. Convinced of total disaster, I watched the Roman army disappear on to the black river.

By dawn, to my amazement, we held the river bank. The next day Maximus and I, along with the priests and other timid folk, sat comfortably at the river's edge and watched the Battle of Ctesiphon as though we were at the theatre. When we complained of the heat, umbrellas were brought us, and wine. Never have philosophers watched in such comfort two empires collide so fatefully.

I sat between Maximus and the Etruscan Mastara. Anatolius was not with us, for he had bravely chosen to fight beside Julian that day, even though court marshals are not expected to be warriors. We teased him a good deal as he got ready for battle, his tiny mouth a firm military circle in his hopelessly soft face.

"Many years with the cavalry," he said casually. His round stomach jiggled beneath ill-fitting armour as he motioned imperiously for the groom to bring him his horse. With a flourish, Anatolius mounted the horse and fell off the other side. I'm afraid we clerks laughed at our impetuous brother. But Anatolius had his way; he followed his Emperor into battle.

At first we saw everything plain. The Persians were spread out in an arc between the walls of Ctesiphon and the river. Cavalry first; then infantry; then against the wall, like a range of mud hills, a hundred elephants each with an iron tower on its back, containing archers.

The Persian cavalry wear an extraordinary form of armour which consists of hundreds of small iron plates sewn together in such a way that not only is the soldier completely covered by armour but he is able to move easily, the iron fitting the contours of his body like cloth. Their horses are protected by leather blankets. In the hands of a capable general, the Persian cavalry is a remarkable weapon. Fortunately for us, there were at this time no Persian generals of any distinction. Also, the Persian army is not a permanent institution like ours but a haphazard collection of conscripts, mercenaries, noblemen and slaves. At times of national crisis every able-bodied man is impressed into service, hardly the best of systems.

Behind the cavalry, the Persian infantry advanced in close order, protected by oblong wicker shields covered with rawhide. Among the elephants at the rear was the Grand Vizier, while on the walls of Ctesiphon the Great King and his court observed the battle in much the same way we philosophers watched it in our folding chairs on the river bank. We were too far away to recognize Sapor, though Maximus, as usual, claimed he saw him quite clearly.

"I am extraordinarily far-sighted, you know. Sapor is to the left of that tower by the gate. You see the blue canopy? Well, he is just under it, wearing scarlet. Those must be his sons with him. They look quite young…" And on he babbled. Actually, all any of us could see was a faint blur of colour on the battlements. But Julian was most visible, riding restlessly along the front line as our army advanced. He was easily identified not only by his white horse and purple cloak but by the dragon standard which always accompanied him.

Our trumpets sounded the advance. The infantry then began its curious stylized march, based on that of ancient Sparta's artfly: two short steps, a pause, two short steps, a pause, all in perfect unison while the drums beat the tattoo. It is ominous both to hear and to see. Even Maximus was silent as the Roman army advanced. Then with a shout, our skirmishers in the front rank threw their javelins into the Persian cavalry. And the two armies vanished. For an instant I almost believed in Maximus's magic. Where a hundred and thirty thousand men had been perfectly visible to us in the bright sun, there was now nothing but an oppressive cloud of dust. We could see nothing. But from the heart of the cloud we heard trumpets, drums, war cries, metal striking metal, the hiss of arrows.

The battle began at sunrise and continued until sundown. After an hour or two of watching dust, the Etruscans grew bored, and withdrew "to pray for victory". Instead, they settled down in a near-by grove of date palms for a drinking party. They were prodigious drinkers. One of my few happy memories of the Persian campaign was the night when all five Etruscans were dead drunk during an important religious ceremony, It was a splendid debacle. They kept dropping sacred vessels and books, while Mastara solemnly assured the furious Julian that "the god has possessed us". Maximus and I watched the wall of dust all day. The only sign we had of how the battle was going was the position of the dust cloud as, hour by hour, it shifted closer to the walls of Ctesiphon. The Persians were giving ground.

"On 15 June we shall return to Tarsus," said Maximus suddenly; he had been making signs in the dust at our feet with his magician's staff.

"In three weeks?"

"Three weeks? Is that three weeks?" He looked at me blankly.

"Why so it is! Amazing to think we shall conquer Persia in such a short time. Alexander hardly did as well. Perhaps I've made a mistake." He studied the dust at his feet. I wanted to break his stick over his foolish head.

"No. The calculation is correct. 15 June. Plain as day. We must tell Julian. He'll be so pleased." He looked vaguely towards the battlefield.

"How do you know that the Emperor…" I emphasized the title. No one but Maximus ever referred to Julian by name. "… is still alive?"

"He has to be. 15 June. I just showed you. Look, in the Sun's Fourth House…"

"And how do you know we shall win this battle?"

"Sometimes you amaze me, Priscus. It is all so plain. Sapor is about to fall, and we shall go home victorious. It is pre-ordained. And frankly I look forward to a return to private life. I'm here only because Julian insisted…"

While Maximus chattered, I stared at the walls of Ctesiphon, waiting for the battle's end. Shortly before sunset, a soft breeze thinned the cloud of dust until we were again able to see the two armies, now in a hopeless tangle at the city's gate. The elephants were running amok, trunks curled, tusks flashing. I am told the Persians use them to intimidate their own men quite as much as the enemy's. Persians as well as Romans were trampled by those hideous beasts.