Belisarius did not elaborate any further. With Maurice, there was no need. “You’ve got signal rockets?”
The Thracian chiliarch nodded.
“Remember, green means—”
“Green means we attack the enemy directly. Red means start the attack with a rocket volley. Yellow—come to your assistance. White—run for our lives.”
Maurice glared at Belisarius. “Any instructions on how to lace up my boots?” He glanced at the horizon. “If you’re going to tell me which direction the sun goes down, you’d better make it quick. It’s already setting. North, I think.”
Belisarius chuckled. “Be off, Maurice.”
Once the chiliarch trotted off—still glowering—Belisarius spoke to Bouzes and Coutzes.
“One of you—either one, I don’t care—take the Syrian infantrymen and start fortifying the royal villa. Take the Callinicum garrison also. The men will probably have to work through the night.”
The brothers grimaced. Belisarius smiled.
“Tell them to look on the bright side. They’ll have to dismantle the interior of the villa. Be all sorts of loose odds and ends lying around. Have to be picked up, of course, so nobody gets hurt falling all over them.”
Bouzes and Coutzes cheered up immediately. Belisarius continued.
“Don’t make the fortifications look too solid, but make sure you have the grenade screens ready to be erected at a moment’s notice. And make sure there’s plenty of portals for a quick sally.”
The brothers nodded, then looked at each other. After a moment’s unspoken discussion—using facial gestures that meant nothing to anyone else—Bouzes reined his horse around and trotted off.
“All right, then,” said Belisarius. “Coutzes, I want you to take the Syrian cavalry—and all of the Arab skirmishers except the few we need for scouts—and get them ready for a sally first thing tomorrow morning. It’ll be a Hunnish sort of sally, you understand?”
Coutzes nodded. A moment later, he too was trotting away. Only Agathius was left, of the command group, along with his chief tribune Cyril.
Belisarius studied them for a moment.
“I want you and your Constantinople unit to get well rested, tonight. Set a regular camp, not far from the villa. Make sure it’s on the eastern grounds of the park, where the terrain is open. I want you between the Malwa and the villa itself. You understand?”
Agathius nodded. Belisarius continued:
“Build campfires—big ones. Allow the men a double ration of wine, and let them enjoy themselves loudly. Encourage them to sing, if they’ve a taste for it. Just don’t let them get drunk.”
Cyril frowned. “You’re not worried the enemy will see—”
“I’m hoping the enemy will scout you out.”
Agathius chuckled. “So they won’t go snooping through the woods on the north, where they might stumble on the Thracians and Illyrians. Or sniff around the villa itself, where they could see how the Syrians are fortifying it.”
The burly officer stroked his beard.
“It’ll probably work,” he mused. “If their skirmishers are as bad as Abbu says, they’ll be satisfied with spotting us. Easy, that’ll be. They can get back to their army without spending all night creeping through a forest that might have God knows what lurking in it.”
Belisarius nodded. Agathius eyed him. His gaze was shrewd—and a bit cold.
“You’re going to hammer the shit out of us, aren’t you?”
Again, Belisarius nodded.
“Yes, Agathius. Your men are probably going to have the worst of it. In the beginning, at least. I’m hoping the Syrian cavalrymen can draw them into a running battle, lead them back here. If they do—”
“You want us to sally. A big, straight-up, heavy cavalry lance charge. Kind of thing minstrels like to sing about.”
“Yes. But you’ve got to be disciplined about it. That charge has to be solid, but I want you to disengage before you get cut to pieces. Can you do that? I want an honest answer. In my experience, cataphracts tend to think they’re invincible. They get so caught up in the—”
Agathius barked a harsh laugh. “For the sake of Christ, general! Do we look like a bunch of aristocrats to you?”
“Right good at disengaging, we are,” added Cyril, chuckling. “If you’ll forgive me saying so, sir.”
Belisarius grinned. “If it’ll make you feel any better, I’ll be joining you in the charge. I’m rather good at disengaging myself. If you’ll forgive me saying so.”