Chapter 7:The First Persian Campaign

Sweat trickled off his fierce tan face as the summer sun
burned deep into his fearless chestnut eyes. Short black hair
combed forward on a square head connected to a spruce beard
around his ears, covering his strong jaw line. His long Roman
nose seemed to adjoin at his forehead, which was steep and
protruding. He had thin black eyebrows and a large chin that
gave his expression solemnity. The silver brooches at his
collarbones, connected by a light chain that hung just below his
muscular neck, held the imperial purple cloak in place over his
armored chest. He had a gold breastplate, and a leather kilt
complete with studded jewels.

He wore his uniform with an air of arrogance, standing out
from among his men as though he were Augustus. He was
nothing like the other Caesar, Constantine's father, whose keen
instincts, and humble good humor were ideal for a man who had
climbed to near the pinnacle of power. This Caesar was different.
He knew how to command as a tyrant, wear clothes that would
distinguish him as elite among the elite, and be ruthless, both in

political affairs and on the battlefield. He was ostentatious and
ambitious. He was the infamous Galerius.

With his head lowered in respect, Constantine's eyes fixed
upon Galerius. Constantine thought he was a great and
magnificent creature, the epitome of the ruler. He saw in him
power and tactfulness, an ability to force circumstances to work
out for his ends.

Constantine observed all this, still kneeling with a guard
arrogantly watching over him, while Galerius issued commands.

Constantine's days at the court of Diocletian helped him to
understand the details of procedure, which were used to impress
those who were "honored' to be in his presence. Yet Constantine
looked beyond that and saw in Galerius a younger version of
Diocletian, who had an aura that set him apart.

The Caesar's finger pointed at the sentry.

"Bring the bastard here," he commanded, square and
solemn.

Constantine was appalled that a Caesar would call the kin
of another Caesar such a name in front of imperial troops. The
sophistication that Constantine had seen in Galerius had all but
disappeared.

The guard shoved Constantine forward as if he were a
prisoner.

"Have you no respect for a Caesar?" Galerius screamed.

A baton swung by the guard beat against the back of
Constantine's knees. He found himself lying prostrate. The
Caesar waved his hand ostentatiously and the troops left him
alone with Constantine. Galerius leaned forward slowly from his
golden throne, and placed his cheek next to Constantine's.

"Your father, this is what I think of him." He sat straight
and pointed to a pile of horse dung next to Constantine. The
Caesar whiffed deeply and exhaled. "Smells just like him too!"

Constantine's eyes fixed on Galerius' jugular. Inside him
was a sudden and unexpected rage. He was smart enough to hold
his tongue, and do his best to hide his emotions. Yet he couldn't

help but contemplate ripping out the Caesar's trachea with his
bare hands.

"I should tell you, you are an officer in the army appointed
by my superior and you have arrived here with a regiment that
has served under you. Well, this regiment is all you will have
during my campaign. My soldiers are loyal to me, and not to the
son of a Caesar whose sympathy for barbarians and lax
collection of taxes has weakened the imperial discipline of the
frontier army."

Constantine's eyes didn't flinch during the entire tirade.
He continued to focus on Galerius' jugular.

"On behalf of me, my army, and the empire, I would like
to give you this token of gratitude, since your father isn't here to
receive it himself." He inhaled deeply and gargled his phlegm.
He spat on Constantine, stood, and marched off.

The clear white saliva mixed with bits of slimy phlegm,
ruined Constantine's clean and respectable appearance. He
stayed there, until his anger subsided to the extent that he could
calmly wipe his cheek, nose, and lips clean of the token of
Galerius' contempt.

Galerius' welcome of Constantine made it apparent to him
that in the future, he would have to find a way to deal with this
Caesar. His initial reaction was to separate the Caesar's head
from his body. Perhaps just a severe beating, or sabotaging of his
property would ease the flame of rage within him. However,
rational thinking reminded Constantine that any such action
could result in his death. He was reliving his childhood
experiences with tutors like Amynterius. Galerius wanted
Constantine out of the imperial picture as soon as possible.
Constantine realized that he had to be cautious and on guard at
all times around this man, Galerius the Caesar.

Galerius headed the first Persian campaign. Constantine's
rank only gave him minimal authority. Diocletian had treated
Constantine like a general. But under the command of Galerius,
he became a simple centurion in charge of the cavalry regiment
that had once been under Diocletian. This regiment trusted him.
They had witnessed his valor and were confident in his ability to
adjust on the field and send his men out of harm's way.

Galerius had stripped him of the respect he had earned in
Alexandria, and placed his regiment in a position subordinate to
his senior cavalry regiment. The troops under Constantine felt
resentment for their demotion. They trusted Constantine and took
his orders to heart, when at the end of a speech he said to them,
"Act as though you are the most docile of soldiers. Yet be aware
of your surroundings and keep your guard up. We did not enter
the Persian campaign to be killed."

The men did as he said, and Constantine himself took his
own advice.

It was on their trek to meet with the enemy, when
Constantine encountered Severus and Maximinius for the first
time. Severus was dark-skinned with furry black hair on his arms
and legs. The hair on his head was jet black and wavy. His irises
were dark brown and beady. His nose was crooked, with signs of
broken cartilage on the ridge. He had large distended lips, which
hid two front teeth that were twisted and curved like an
untrimmed fingernail on a sorcerer's hand. Severus was much
older than Constantine was, and the wrinkles around his eyes
attested to his age.

Maximinius shared similar characteristics to Galerius. He
had a pronounced forehead, and a sharp widow's peak that
flattened on top with thin brown hair. He had a long jaw with a
large rounded chin, below thin chapped lips. His eyes were
chestnut, outlined by long dark lashes.

Both men were shorter than Constantine, who was not
only taller and more muscular, but unlike his two new
competitors, he was handsome. Severus and Maximinius were

the pawns that Galerius was promoting to use for his ascent to
Augustus.

Constantine had a group of his men conduct a "political
reconnaissance mission," in order to gather more information
about the men who were sure to be his competition. The leader
of the squad, a light featured soldier with a square jaw, reported
his findings to Constantine at their quarters.

"The mission was a success," the soldier said with a grin.

"I knew I could count on you, Licinius," Constantine said
patting him on the shoulder and pulling him to sit on the
improvised barrack floor. "Please, begin with Maximinius."

"Well, he is a bit of a viper. As is evident, he is younger
than you, and has been given, not earned, the rank that he has in
the Praetorian Guard. The Caesar bestowed it upon him,
naturally. After all, he is his nephew. Our information suggests,"
Licinius said with a chuckle, "that he is on his way to becoming
a tribune whose work is done for him by the Caesar's
commands."

"Anything else?" Constantine asked.

"Yes," Licinius responded enthusiastically. "Our Caesar,
whom we are forced to serve, appears to be superstitious. His
nephew was bom on the same day and year when Emperor
Diocletian was appointed to the imperial purple."

Silence followed his words as Constantine contemplated
the significance of the information he was given. "Severus,"
Constantine said, "tell me of him."

"Oh, well, he is a practiced soldier. He has actually earned
his position by moving up through the ranks. It wasn't until
recently that Galerius has focused his attention on him. They
share the common characteristics of drinking heartily, and being
ruthlessly violent, even when situations do not call for such
fierceness. They believe strongly in overkill, and because of this,
they seem to share a sick and twisted bond." He stopped.
"Pardon me, sir. I meant not to openly show disrespect to the
Caesar," he said apologetically.

"We are alone," Constantine said matter of factly.
"However, in front of the regiment and everyone else, keep your
thoughts about the Caesar to yourself. You have done very well,
Licinius. You proved yourself again to be an asset to the
emperor's army. I will have to notify the emperor of your loyal
service to him." They saluted and Constantine lay down on his
cot, dissecting the information he had secretly acquired.

Heat vapors from the blistering summer rays created the
illusion of sand melting and evaporating off in the distance. False
pools of water appeared and disappeared in the desert landscape,
as new mirages formed throughout the barren expanse.
Shimmering columns and waves of heat rose from the land.

The troops rode on Arabian geldings, probably the only
horses that could survive the desert climate. As for the Roman
soldiery, the horses appeared healthier than they did. The men
were showing signs of dehydration as they rode. The troops were
mostly slouched over on their animals. They had symptoms of
nausea, headache, breathing problems, and difficulties speaking-
hence they didn't speak. They were forbidden to drink water
from their canteens on orders of Galerius that they would be
killed if they disobeyed. Furthermore, they hadn't supplied
themselves with the appropriate ratio of water to food, and were
experiencing the effects of poor planning.

"Sit up straight!" a general would holler on occasion to the
legionaries.

They would follow orders for the time being, then
succumb once more to the effects of their dehydrated state.

Constantine observed the troops surrounding and leading
his regiment into the Parthian domain. To say he was worried
would be an understatement, for he felt he and the soldiers under
him were marching to their deaths.

Constantine had straight-out-disobeyed orders in secret
with his regiment. They had brought less than the proper ratio of
food to water, yet they had twice the supply of the other soldiers.
In camp, Constantine ordered a squad of his regiment to recon
the lowland desert for water in the surrounding area, at the edge

of cliffs, or where there were animals. They had covertly
supplied themselves and continued to do so as they rode
alongwith the other troops. When the army was permitted to
drink water every so often, Constantine's regiment drank double
the prescribed amount. They rode tall and appeared healthy on
their horses. The bodies of Galerius' men, however, were
seriously depleted of water, dramatically reducing their combat
effectiveness.

The sun had crept to the western horizon, giving the troops
ease from its burning rays. Constantine was relieved that the
enemy did not take advantage of the army's weakened state,
although he knew that the Persians were near. Before the sun
went down, the troops made camp. While the other legionaries
were only a quarter of the way through, Constantine's regiment
finished putting up their improvised tents.

The army didn't think about why Constantine's regiment
was so much stronger than they. The army was too concerned
with making camp before they collapsed.

Constantine met with his regiment's officers in his
headquarters. He posted a reliable soldier as sentry, on the
lookout for Galerius and his henchmen. Having secured the area,
Constantine devised a plan.

"Licinius, you will spearhead the mission," Constantine
said in a low whispering voice. He rolled open a papyrus with a
diagram of the Eastern Empire drawn upon it. He pointed on the
map to their location. "My calculations tell me that we are here,
near the Euphrates. Licinius, can you confirm this?"

Licinius reevaluated the distances. "I concur."

"Very well. Each fourteen-man squad will travel three
kilometers to these locations. Beware. The Persians are definitely
somewhere between the Tigris and Euphrates, awaiting our
approach tomorrow," Constantine said confidently. "Exercise
caution when approaching the water. Take with you, concealed,
as many of the legion's canteens and containers as you can.
Saddle the horses and send off the first squad to wait out of sight.
Then send out the troops under your commands." They saluted

him and began to leave the tent when Constantine stopped them.
"The water is not for us, but rather for the rest of the army. We
are going to see action tomorrow, I am certain of this. I'm sure
you want the most able of men by your side, as do I. This is a
rescue mission, an attempt to save this army. Darkness will come
swiftly. Make haste, and good luck." The officers left without a
word.

Constantine reported to Galerius' headquarters. He entered
the main headquarters, finding the Caesar resting on his cot. He
came to one knee and spoke with his eyes to the ground.

"Permission to speak. Your Excellency."

"Do I detect a note of pleasure at disturbing me?" Galerius
challenged. He came to his feet and approached Constantine who
still knelt in front of him. "As you were, boy," he said harshly.

Constantine stood, staring the Caesar straight in the eyes.
"I wish to report that my men spotted enemy troops as we made
camp. I ordered my regiment to conduct a reconnaissance of the
area."

Galerius' jaw tightened.

"I," Constantine continued, "felt as though the time to act
was immediately, and to discuss the matter with other officers
would only delay the response, which would lead to a failed
mission."

Galerius leaped close to Constantine, his chest pressed up
against his, and he sprayed spit as he screamed. "I do not care
about the failure of a reconnaissance mission. However, I do care
when an officer in my army suddenly outranks my generals and
orders the troops under him to conduct an unapproved mission."
Galerius took a step back. His tone mellowed significantly as
Constantine stood in the same spot without flinching. "It will be
pure darkness in moments from now. The entire regiment will be
lost," Galerius said, as though that was the reason for his anger.

"They are equipped with torches if necessary,"
Constantine said. "These men are experts in desert warfare. They
know how to coordinate in the dark, and they will return with a

full report on the mission. I stake my life on it," Constantine said
assuredly.

"That's right. You'll stake your life on it, and the lives of
the entire army," Galerius said with resentment. "Leave me," he
commanded, turning his back on Constantine.

Constantine paced outside his tent, awaiting the return of
his regiment. The moon was full and the stars sparkled bright in
the darkness of the sky. It was approaching midnight and
Constantine's worry was taking its toll. With the exception of
sentries, the rest of the camp was sleeping. There was a quiet
stillness, which intensified Constantine's anticipation. For all he
knew, he had sent his regiment into harm's way. Perhaps they
had been captured, or, even worse, massacred by the Persians.
Like a parent awaiting his child's arrival, Constantine stayed
awake through the night.

Constantine didn't move as pulsation intensified. He felt
the drumming of an uneven pulse in his chest. It struck harder,
deeper, louder. It doubled its pace as the blood raced through his
veins. He looked around him. It wasn't his heartbeat at all; it was
the sudden approach of horses. They sounded too numerous to be
his regiment and the noise came from all directions.

He considered waking the army, though it was too late to
establish any defense. Instead, he listened and waited with
discipline, as his heart echoed the drumming of hooves on the
cool desert sand.

Licinius emerged from the darkness, followed by his
squad of thirteen. The remaining regiment came in shortly
behind. Constantine was relieved, although he exhibited no
emotions. The officers dismounted and huddled around
Constantine.

"Licinius, disperse each squad to a specific barracks area
where canteens will be replaced, or filled. Bribe the sentries if

there are any problems," he said, at ease. "Good job, men.
Mission accomplished." Constantine watched his soldiers
covertly break up into groups and stealthily run through the
sandy camp. Every man was accounted for. Constantine could
rest.

The water brought by Constantine's regiment had helped
many of the legionaries who appeared to be more energetic,
although still suffering from the initial stages of dehydration. The
sun had not yet reached its full apex in the sky and the soldiers
began to fall into the same patterns of fatigue. The water
provided was scarcely enough for an army of men, and yet it
made a difference.

With the help of Constantine's covert operation, Galerius
was approaching his objective, the Euphrates River, where the
troops could replenish their water supply. At first, the legionaries
ignored the river, dismissing it as a mirage. Then Galerius gave
the order of salvation, "Water for all." The soldiers charged the
river, some going as far as to ride their horses into the water.
Soldiers swam, filled canteens, and let their animals drink. They
drank until their bellies were filled.

Before long the troops were riding again. The sweltering
rays were directly overhead and the army was in search of their
enemy. Scouts had been sent out in front of the army, whose
cohorts were so vast that they extended as far back as the eye
could see. The scouts had never returned. Constantine suspected
the army was walking into an ambush, but held his tongue. The
entire army was at the foot of the mountain ranges of Carrhae.
They entered a valley with enemy troops hidden about.

Trumpets wistfully sounded as the army fell into the
Persian trap. Flights of arrows darkened the sun over the
legionaries as they struck the men and horses below. The first
assault and the quick maneuvering of cavalry had hit over a

thousand men. The Persian horse-archers were on higher ground.
The advantage was theirs and they seized the opportunity to
inflict mass casualties. Amidst the chaos and confusion, the
trumpets sounded a second time, signaling the order to retreat.

Numerous troops rode back along the path they followed
as Persian archers cut them down. Constantine ordered his
regiment to climb through an escarpment half a kilometer away.
When they reached the site, the resistance was light and the
regiment easily breached the Persian line.

Galerius ordered his troops to follow Constantine's
regiment, once he observed that they had made it through safely.
With haste and panic, the beaten Roman army made it out of the
valley, and back on the road of retreat. As the last of the
legionaries made good their escape, Persians descended and
looted the dead or dying soldiers, whose unmanned horses
galloped aimlessly at Carrhae.

Constantine rode back to Galerius with Licinius. He had a
strategy to propose to the Caesar.

"Caesar, Your Excellency," Constantine said shouting
from his horse and masking his disgust. Severus and Maximinius
rode on either side of Galerius. "If we split the army and attack
from the east and west entrance, we can take them."

Galerius said nothing.

"Now is the time to act. Hesitation means death!"
Constantine knew his efforts were in vain, as were the lives that
had perished on the battlefield.

"Look at them. They are unfit to fight," Galerius screamed
at Constantine and his officer. "Besides, we do not know how
many enemy troops ambushed us."

"We still have a substantial force," Constantine persisted.
"At least to avenge the deaths of our Roman comrades."

At a hand signal by Galerius, Maximinius and other
guards blocked Constantine and Licinius from following the
Caesar any farther.

"For the morale of the troops," he shouted, making a last
attempt.

Galerius rode on, ignoring the only idea that could have
saved his once untarnished battle record.

Days later, Diocletian and a legion from his army met
Galerius' forces on the path of retreat. What followed was
unforgettable to Constantine and all who were present. The army
halted and received the emperor at attention. Diocletian signaled
Constantine to take his place alongside his chariot. A sense of
jubilation overcame Constantine.

With Constantine by his side, Diocletian lectured the
Caesar in front of all his army. Galerius sat on his black gelding
in silence. "Didn't you study history? Carrhae, the Parthian
campaign? Crassus suffered the same fate as your army." He
continued to lash out at the Caesar verbally, until there was
nothing left to say.

"Dismount that animal that you have disgraced," the
emperor ordered.

An uncontrollable grin overcame Constantine's facial
muscles. His regiment mirrored the reaction. Galerius stood with
the sun beating off his polished brass-plated helmet. Diocletian
swatted it off his head, bending the ear and cheek-protectant flap
on one side as it hit the ground.

"In front of me, the gods, and the soldiers of Rome," he
commanded. "March!"

Lo and behold, Galerius kept his tongue. He obeyed the
orders given to him. The trumpets sounded and the troops were
on the move again. Irascible Galerius, with his purple cloak,
walked on foot before the emperor's carriage and the rest of the
army until day turned to night.