That’s another thing I like about infantry. When a man has to charge on his own two legs, he tends to think it over first. Less tiring.
Seeing him approach, the cavalry chiliarchs rode to meet him.
“Soon, now,” announced Eutyches.
Belisarius nodded.
“As soon as—” A blaring cornicen cut him off. Belisarius turned in his saddle just in time to see the first missiles hurled from the four scorpions and two onagers which he had positioned behind the fortified camp. Phocas had gauged the range and given the command for the artillery fire.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a scowl on the face of Pharas.
Belisarius understood the meaning of that expression. Like most modern Roman commanders, Pharas had no use for artillery in a field battle.
But Belisarius forebore comment. He had learned, from experience, that it was a futile argument.
They just don’t understand. Sure, the damned things are a pain to haul around. Sure, they don’t really inflict that many casualties. But they do two invaluable things. First, they break up the cohesion of the enemy’s ranks. An alert soldier, even a heavily armored horseman, can usually dodge a great big scorpion dart or a huge stone thrown by an onager—as long as he isn’t hemmed in by closely packed ranks. So, the enemy starts spreading out. Second—and most important—it’s utterly infuriating to a warrior to be bombarded when he’s too far away to retaliate. So he charges closer. Which is just what I want. Strategic offense; tactical defense. There’s the whole secret in a nutshell.
The two chiliarchs were already galloping toward the front line. Belisarius followed. He needed to be able to watch the progress of the battle, and had already decided he would do it from the right. The hill would have been a perfect vantage point, of course, but he would have been much too isolated from the right wing of his army. Which represented both his heaviest force and his least reliable.
By the time he reached the front line, the Persians had already begun their charge. He saw at once that the enemy had begun the charge much too soon. Even the huge Persian horses couldn’t charge any great distance before becoming exhausted.
And so, once again, the artillery did the trick.
Still, the Persians weren’t Goths. Once Goths began a cavalry charge, they always tried to carry it through. The Medes, sophisticated and civilized for all their noble pride, were much too canny not to suspect a trap.
So, once they got within bow range, the Persian heavy cavalry reined in and let their horses breathe. The lighter mounted archers continued forward, firing their bows.
Pharas didn’t wait for Belisarius’ command. He ordered the Roman horse archers forward. The Huns galloped out onto the battleground, firing their own bows. Within moments, a swirling archery duel was underway.
Between Persian and Hun mounted archers, the contest was unequal. The Persians, as always, fired their bows as rapidly as did the Huns—much more rapidly than Roman cataphracts or regular infantry. But the Persians were better armored, and that extra armor counted for much against the relatively weak bows being used by both sides.
Soon enough, the Huns began falling back. The Persian horse archers did not attempt to charge in pursuit. They were no fools, and knew full well that Huns surpassed everyone in the art of turning a retreat into a sudden counterattack. So they simply satisfied themselves with a disciplined, orderly advance. Firing volley after volley as they came.
Pharas began to grumble, but Belisarius cut him off. Quickly. As he had expected, the chiliarch had already forgotten the battle plan.
“Splendid,” announced Belisarius. “The Huns have already succeeded in fixing the entire left wing of the enemy.”
“They’re advancing on us!” exclaimed Pharas.
How did this idiot ever get made a chiliarch? I wouldn’t trust him to bake bread. The first thing he’d do is throw away the recipe.
But his words were mild.
“Which is precisely what I want, Pharas. As long as the Persian left is advancing on our right, they aren’t free to be doing something else. Such as chewing up our left, which is where the battle’s going to be decided.”