Flame of the West Read Free

the Sanguinary was responsible, and cursed the young nobleman for the upstart son of a traitor all the way back to Naples.
       We arrived to find the city in ferment, and one name rippling through the crowded streets:
       Antonina!
       The mere sound of it filled me with dismay. Belisarius had smuggled Antonina out of Rome, away from danger, and sent her south with a strong guard to await the outcome of the war in the peaceful tranquillity of Naples. 
       He little knew his wife. Antonina had taken up residence in the governor’s palace, from where she immediately despatched agents to gather men from the surrounding province. To do her credit, she had no intention of wallowing in comfort while her husband fought to defend Rome, and did her utmost to send him military aid.
       I was reluctant to let Antonina know my presence in Naples, but misjudged my own importance: she was already embroiled in fresh plots and intrigues, and betraying her husband on a nightly basis with one Theodosius, a staggeringly handsome young man and Belisarius’ godson. I was no longer of relevance to her, though continued to live in fear of receiving an assassin’s blade in my back one dark night.
       When over five hundred men had been gathered, it was agreed that our cavalry should advance north towards Rome along the Appian Way, escorting the train of wagons, loaded with corn and wine, for the relief of the city.
       Meanwhile our fleet, carrying three thousand Isaurian infantry, would sail for the port of Ostia. This was the plan devised by John the Sanguinary, and none cared to contradict it.
       “If all goes to pot,” Procopius remarked sourly , “then at least we shall witness a swift end to the career of a most unpleasant young man.”
       Pro copius was vindictive, and judged people on instinct. I could never fathom, for instance, why he took such a liking to me.
       I shared some of his dislike of John, who struck me as arrogant, but he was the most senior officer present in Naples. His pretty ways and noble birth appealed to Antonina, who had no hesitation in naming him our commander.
       I joined the cavalry, placing myself among the Heruls, and our little expeditionary force set out north.
       To Rome.
    3.
     
    We followed the Appian Way, the ancient paved highway linking Rome to southeast Italy. I fully expected us to be attacked, and to have to fight our way to Rome over mountains of Gothic corpses, but our progress was unhindered.
       “Vitiges is looking north,” Procopius said confidently, “all his attention is fixed on Rome. He pays no heed to what is happening behind him. Fool! Belisarius is lucky in his enemies. Not one of the barbarian kings he has faced is his equal in war.”
       This was true , though Vitiges, King of the Goths, enjoyed a reputation as an able and ferocious soldier. I had never even seen him, though he was said to be a typical chieftain of his race, tall and auburn-haired and dripping with gold ornaments.
       John the Sanguinary was less of a toy soldier than he appeared. He was careful to despatch scouts, to look for any sign of the Goths. They returned at a hard gallop when we were some five miles south of Rome.
       “General Belisarius has sallied out fro m the Pincian Gate,” one reported breathlessly, “almost his entire garrison is engaged with the Gothic host, in pitched battle on the plain before the city.”
       John’s carefully plucked eyebrows shot up. “Not as cautious as you thought, eh?” I remarked, and ret urned his frown with a grin. In days of old I might have been flogged for insolence to a superior officer, but the legendary discipline of the Roman army was much decayed.
        “It is a distraction,” said Procopius, “Belisarius must have learned of our arrival, and has engaged the Goths to give us time to reach Ostia and meet up with the fleet. When he learns we have safely passed through the enemy lines, he will withdraw back