Matters went from bad to worse for the besieged. First the forces on the Alpine passes surrendered. Meanwhile Vitalius was ravaging Venetia, the sole region from which Ravenna could be supplied, and Flavius had sent strong forces to take possession of those now abandoned passes and to demand the surrender of any Goth garrisons still remaining in the region.
Not that such a mission was without difficulty; the men who had left Milan to succour Auximus and had been scattered by the Franks, had partially re-formed and the man who commanded them, originally on his way to Ravenna, changed tack and marched against them. Luckily, Martinus and John Vitalianus were still in the region and able to combine and create a force strong enough to bring about a victory without a battle.
Flavius made sure that Witigis heard of this development and understood that he was now cut off from any possibility of aid. As if once more, the hand of God intervened: the grain storerooms that held the last of the Goth supplies caught fire, either by accident or sabotage, which took with it the food that might have sustained the city, albeit on very short rations, throughout the winter. It was time for Witigis to talk.
If Flavius Belisarius was now in complete control of Italy he had no control over extraneous matters and here his emperor intervened. The envoys sent by Witigis to Constantinople had done better than he could have hoped, aided by the stirrings on the eastern border. There the Sassanid Empire and Byzantium were engaged in a low-level conflict that threatened at any moment to erupt into all-out war. Faced with such a hazard Italy would become a sideshow.
Domnicus, the chief negotiator sent by Justinian, was empowered to offer Witigis a treaty, his terms being for half the wealth of the Goth treasury and all of Italy south of the River Po. Given his situation Witigis was eager to accept, his only problem being that Flavius Belisarius, on the spot in a situation of which his imperial master was ignorant, refused to allow the proposal to be implemented.
The imperial envoy was quick to tell him he did not have the right to act so; Flavius merely asked him how many men he could put in the field to stop him. But he did offer Domnicus one sop: he could appeal to a conference of the senior officers of the Army of Italy and if they agreed, then Flavius would bow to their judgement. Having made that offer he was not fool enough to allow it to happen without he had a prior chance to put his case.
‘I would remind you all, that it is not you that is questioning the imperial will but me.’ A glance around the assembled faces showed a mixture of caution and in one or two cases outright defiance, but it was as well to remind them all that to defy Justinian carried with it a risk to their careers. ‘I hope you trust me not to shirk the accusation, if it is put to me, and seek to spread responsibility.’
‘Then why have you assembled us?’ demanded John Vitalianus, still far from reconciled to the man who had led them to their present overwhelming superiority.
‘If you collectively counsel that we allow Witigis his treaty, then I will not oppose your wishes. It is my hope you do not.’
‘Which flies in the face of what you have just said, Flavius Belisarius.’
Vitalianus again and he was smirking to have pointed out what he saw as an anomaly: if he was asking their opinion he was obviously spreading responsibility.
‘No, John, I am saying that if you stop me I will respect your wishes. Any who have no opinion are free to remain silent.’
‘Well I for one will not,’ barked Martinus, glaring at Vitalianus, with whom he had reportedly enjoyed a stormy relationship these last months. ‘The Goths are beaten. Surely if Justinian was here to see that, the offer would be withdrawn.’
That set up a rumble of agreement to which Flavius responded. ‘I agree. We have within our grasp outright victory and the time to press for such an outcome. To my mind it would be folly to throw away years of campaigning for a bastard peace.’
Looking at the faces and sensing he had carried the room, he asked a servant to send to Domnicus so he could join them. Not that he called for his officers to speak, but only to listen. Once the imperial envoy had concluded his view that Justinian should be obeyed it was Flavius, and Flavius alone, who replied in the negative. What he had achieved, and those among his subordinates with the wit to see it would discern the fact, was security for himself.
None in the future, Vitalianus especially, would be able to say at some hearing on his conduct, that he had total victory in his grasp and had failed to press it home. Flavius knew that such was the nature of the world in which he lived, and the malice that could be created by jealousy, he could one day be accused and sanctioned for obedience to the orders of Justinian or find himself on trial for the very opposite.
‘It is depressing that even in an army the need to think like a politician is necessary.’
Procopius, who never ceased to think that way, merely gave his master a wry look. ‘You may need all the wiles of that profession, given there is a secret embassy waiting to see you.’
‘From Witigis?’
‘No, but the men waiting are from the highest Goth nobility.’
‘And what is it they wish to say?’
‘That they would hardly impart to me, Magister. I am but your servant.’
‘When you say secret …?’
‘The approach was made to me. I made sure no one knows of their presence. If anyone asks, I will say they are Roman citizens who reside in Ravenna and are naturally concerned at what is about to become of their home city once the Goths are deposed.’
It was all very well for Procopius to be devious, indeed it was often essential, but at this moment Flavius had a feeling he was not being gifted the truth in the matter of secretarial ignorance. Odd that with all the power at his command there was no point in asking if that feeling was true.
‘Will you see them?’ That got a raised eyebrow, to which Procopius added. ‘In my opinion you must.’
‘Then bid them enter.’
‘I ask your permission to post guards on the doors with instructions to use force to ensure you are not disturbed, this a request put to me by these visitors.’
Flavius smiled at the word ‘visitors’, but he nodded and went to stand close to the flaming brazier that heated the chamber, on the opposite side to the doorway. He felt for his dagger and eased it in its scabbard while making sure there was a sword close by. These men would have been searched, of that he was sure, but a three-to-one advantage did not debar them from attempting to assassinate him with their bare hands.
The trio who entered did so in the manner of conspirators, slowly, their eyes darting around the chamber from one oil lamp to the next before finally settling on the logs burning before the man they had come to see. They were dressed in clothing of high quality, wore objects of gold and silver and had on their shoulder soft fur skin cloaks. In their eyes and their bearing, once they had relaxed somewhat, it was possible to see these were warriors and accustomed to respect.
‘Who is it I am being asked to greet?’
‘No names,’ protested one, who stood slightly ahead of his companions, which marked him out as the leader. He had unblinking blue eyes and a wide, hooked nose large enough to dominate every other feature on his face. The look was serious, added to which his Latin seemed perfect. ‘At least, not yet.’
‘Procopius, some chairs for our visitors.’ Once these had been set out Flavius added, ‘I wish my secretary to remain, which I trust will cause you no concern.’