“Batnae is on the main route from Antioch to Carrhae and Resaina.” Dacius put a stubby forefinger on the map. “Galerius must intend to cross the headwaters of the river Aboras and go on to Nisibis on the frontier. If he reaches there while the forces of Narses are still bottled up to the north in Armenia, he can then strike southeastward by way of Singara to Ninus on the river Tigris.”
“Putting an arrow into the very heart of the Persian kingdom,” Constantine agreed. “It’s a daring move and only a brave man would make it.”
“Or a fool.”
Hill country around Carrhae
“Galerius is not that. You should know it as well as I, Dacius.” “Let us say then that ambition may have made a fool of him.” Dacius pointed to an area on the map between Antioch and the broad western curve of the Euphrates. “From the hill country around Carrhae to the river Euphrates is a sandy desert, completely barren, without even a tree or a spring of fresh water to supply troops marching across it. Until you’ve made such a march, you can’t realize how thirsty a man can get, but it’s a hundred times worse coming back, in retreat. Then a legion must hold its ranks, closing up whenever someone falls by the wayside and not stopping to succour them. For once the ranks break, enemy cavalry can sweep in and cut an entire legion to pieces in a matter of moments.”
“You paint a dreary picture,” Constantine said. “But if Galerius succeeds in dividing the forces of Narses, the Roman frontier will extend farther eastward than it has ever been before.” Then he added in a voice so low that only Dacius could hear him, “And a third Caesar will be needed to govern so vast a realm.”
“Crassus wagered ten legions on just such a turn of the dice, and lost,” Dacius reminded him. “What are your orders for tomorrow? Do we ride northward to Damascus, or into the desert?” ‘What is the shortest route to Circesium, where the frontier with Persia crosses the river Euphrates?” Constantine asked the caravan master.
Josiah spoke rapidly to the darkskinned man and listened intently to his answer, then turned to Constantine. “He says his people do not use maps such as this, sir,” he reported. “The lore of the caravan trails is handed down from father to son; in the desert, the guide selects a star and follows it.”
“Does he know a more direct route to Circesium than by way of Damascus?” Constantine insisted. “If he does, tell him I will pay him well to guide us there.”
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