Siege of Rome by David Pilling Read Free Book Online Page B

Solomon’s bedchamber – I was becoming Belisarius’ shadow – and listened to the sick man give his account.
       Solomon was proud , far more competent and dutiful than Procopius gave him credit for, and had done his best to hold onto the province. Alas, it would have taken a man of far greater abilities to deal with the fearful catalogue of treason and rebellion that he reported.
       “The trouble started with the Moors,” he said weakly, “at first it was just a few raids on isolated villages. Nothing out of the ordinary, and I left our local garrisons to cope with them. Then I received word that some of the desert tribes had formed a coalition. They fell upon a detachment of our infantry and cut our soldiers all to pieces.”
       He paused to cough and drink some water. I glanced at Belisarius. The general’s face was as grim as ever I saw it, like a bust carved in stone.
       Besides one other guardsman and myself, no-one else was present. The shutters on the bedchamber’s single window were closed, blocking out the wintry afternoon sun. Belisarius wanted the details of the African disaster to be kept secret for as long as possible.
       “When I heard of the massacre, I resolved to act,” Solomon continued, “and led out our garrison in force from Carthage to give battle.”
       Belisarius gave a slight nod of approval. He would have done no less.
       “We met the Moors on a fair open field and utterly routed them. You know what poor soldiers they make. They wear no armour, and their flimsy shields and javelins were no match for Roman arms. I followed up, hoping to destroy the survivors, and found them entrenched in a strong position on Mount Burgaon. I threw in our infantry, and in one assault they cleared the trenches and drove the Moors like sheep, until the desert ran red with their tainted blood.”
       “So far, a textbook campaign,” murmured Belisarius, “what went wrong?”
       Solomon laid his head back on the pillows and closed his eyes. “The tribes retreated into the recesses of the desert, where we could not follow,” he said, “ and then our men started to disintegrate. I did not realise until it was too late, but the army was rotten with sedition. Most of the protestors were Arians. The heresy is still strong in Africa. They complained of Justinian’s harsh edits against their faith, and that they were barred from baptizing their children. They complained that the plunder taken from the defeated Moors was not shared out equally. They complained of these and other matters with loud and bitter voices, and the disaffection quickly spread among our orthodox troops. Meanwhile the Moors were allowed to recover their strength.”
       It was now that Solomon’s failure became apparent. As governor and commander-in-chief, he should have stamped down hard on the dissenting voices. Belisarius was of a naturally merciful disposition, but had never hesitated from applying old-fashioned Roman discipline when necessary. I remember the pair of drunken Hunnish confederates he had executed on the hills above Heraclea, and their headless bodies tossed into the sea.
       “Unknown to me, some of our garrison troops met at Mount Auras,” said Solomon, “and there formed a pact with the Moors and the worst of the Arian dissenters. They raised the standard of revolt against Roman rule. At the same time, a ship bearing four hundred Vandals taken captive in the recent wars was on its way to our eastern provinces. The Vandals were supposed to enlist in our armies there. As the ship sailed past the African coast, the Vandals rose in revolt, slaughtered the sailors and marines, and forced the captain to land. They joined with the rebels at Mount Auras.”
       He passed a hand over his face. “The Arian poison had even spread to Carthage. Some of the fanatics there plotted against my life, and chose Easter as the best time to murder me. They planned to have me killed as I entered the