For too long the armies of the Eastern Roman Empire had been hampered in battle by the habit of appointing two generals as conjoint commanders of its forces in the field, and that extended to actual battle. Emperors were imbued with a keen sense of history and harked back to Republican times when the joint consuls had led the legions.
Added to that they feared that any one military leader should be too successful because the imperial past was littered with occasions when this had led to rebellion and, on several occasions, to outright usurpation. Dividing the command militated against any notion of individual glory, the unfortunate concomitant of this being division and confusion in situations that demanded clarity and action. Constantinople had lost too many battles because two men faced with the need for quick decisions could not agree.
The other distaff side of command division was that in which John was now engaged, acting on his own initiative and ignoring the greater strategic concern, this being another commonplace in a situation of dual authority in the field. The disobedient transgressor could usually assume that one general would agree with him, if for no other reason than contrariness.
Added to which, if he was of high enough personal rank and well connected within the ranks of the imperial bureaucracy, as was John Vitalianus, he could appeal above the heads of both to the Emperor himself. Control, always difficult and made more so by the execution of Constantinus, was about to get many times more complex.
‘I retired south to Ancon,’ Ildiger concluded, ‘which has been prepared for a stout defence.’
‘You have done as well as you could,’ was the reply, there being no other that would serve, except the man might have given a more satisfactory response if he had said he stuck his sword through John’s vitals. Flavius then addressed his assembled officers with another obvious truth.
‘The actions of John Vitalianus we must accommodate since they cannot be altered. It is vital that Witigis does not retake Ariminum, because if he does we will be required to reverse that prior to any move on Ravenna. Let us hope our miscreant can hold.’
If the man being spoken of was not an obedient subordinate he was a competent one. Vitalianus had arrived in Italy with a reputation for military effectiveness that was known even to his enemies, which made it doubly necessary that Witigis soundly beat him. As Ildiger was reporting to Flavius, the Goth King was surrounding the city and building the siege tower by which he intended to capture it, a sight which induced panic in a population now regretting their eagerness to surrender to Byzantium.
A lesser man might have wilted; not Vitalianus who had arrogance and self-belief to spare as well as a physique that could have stood as the template for the pure warrior. Tall, broad of shoulder while slim of waist, he had an Adonis countenance and a captivating manner, these being attributes that had impressed Flavius as much as anyone. His demeanour, with a huge Goth force outside the walls, was to behave as if he had been granted some special purpose from God and that calmed the frayed nerves of those who now needed to rely on him.
Yet even the dullest mind knew the city could not be held forever, it required to be reinforced by the main army and John acted accordingly; thwart any quick attempt on the walls and Witigis would be forced to seek to starve him out and that took time. He watched the building of the Goth tower with a sanguine air and that held even as it was realised the machine was not to be dragged to the walls by oxen, as had happened outside Rome, but pushed by human agency. Men inside the structure would therefore be immune to archery so a different method of countering this gambit had to be contrived.
Like all such war-making machines the siege tower suffered from a flaw: once set on a course it could not be manoeuvred to left or right nor advance swiftly, which told the defenders at which point they needed to mass in order to oppose the attack. In an unusual move the Goths dragged it forward, not as was common at first light, but well past the noon meridian, to stop some distance short of the walls to await the following dawn. It was then surrounded with a strong body of guards.
Daylight would bring the expected attack and over a short distance, now the tower was well forward. The sole impediment was a shallow ditch, which lay a short distance from the outer wall. This would be filled with bundled faggots so the tower could be wheeled right abreast of the masonry at a height greater than the parapet on which stood the defenders. It was essential that be stopped.
As darkness fell John led out his men, not for battle, given they were armed with shovels not swords and spears, there being no intention to take on the strong body of men protecting the tower and induce them into leaving their posts for a fight. If they did, an immediate withdrawal would be necessary for the unarmed men, which led to a nervous period of waiting.
Once he was sure the Goths were going to stick to the task they had been given, John had his men set to work, the task to seriously deepen the ditch – but he had another ploy in mind. The spoil from the excavation was placed at the base of the wall to create an earthwork, one deep enough to prevent the tower from pressing hard upon the stonework even if it could cross the ditch. The sight of those continually moving torches, and no doubt the sounds they heard, eventually made the Goths curious enough to come forward to investigate, albeit cautiously, fearing a trap. It was too late, John had what he wanted and retired unmolested.
The first sight of the morning was of Goth warriors’ being hung from the front of the tower. It was assumed to be the leaders of the guards that had failed to detect what was happening the night before, now plain for all to see in the dark disturbed earth. Executions complete, the horns were blown and the enemy began their advance, sending forward strong raiding parties who braved the arrow fire from above to throw their tied piles of wooden faggots into the ditch.
John Vitalianus had a strong body of standard Byzantine cavalry but they were not bucellarii, which left him short of trained archers and so unable to prevent this taking place. Even with casualties the ditch was quickly filled to overflowing, this as the tower itself crept forward to the sound of extensive yelling and shield bashing, the men providing the momentum immune to fire from catapults or the inexperienced bowmen on the parapet.
John, still as calm as he had been hitherto, was smiling as if he knew exactly what was about to happen. As the front wheels of the tower began to edge onto those piled faggots the whole assembly dipped forward, the weight being too great for that which was supposed to support it. This meant the warriors on the very top level, the men who were to launch the first attack, hitherto hidden, became exposed and they were now close enough to be assailed by light javelins if not heavy spears.
The archers too had a target; they might not be fully competent but at the range at which they were now firing they could barely miss, and such was the velocity the arrows penetrated the kind of lamellar armour worn by their enemies. Witigis brought up a mass of men to push but even as he got the rear wheels of the tower onto the faggots he came up against the earth piled up the previous night. This left a gap too wide to cross by jumping and now the wooden structure was being assailed by flaming torches.
Having invested his whole aim in that tower Witigis had no choice but to begin to withdraw; he was losing men to no purpose and the framework of his siege engine was beginning to smoulder despite the amount of water being used to supress the flames. Ropes appeared and slowly the tower was pulled backwards, which told John Vitalianus that Witigis obviously wanted to employ it again, no doubt when he had created the means to get it up against the walls.