The tall man was near midstream now, wading at the head of his troops, but the river was deepening rapidly and his armor made the going heavy. Calling to him to seize hold of his stirrup when he came abreast, Constantine ordered his own men to follow his example and, with each of the little band of foot soldiers hanging on to the stirrup of a cavalryman in the center where the current was swiftest, they managed the crossing without too much difficulty. Only once did the line break momentarily, allowing several men and two horses to be swept downstream, but the chain was quickly restored and the crossing completed.
On the west bank, the leader of the band staggered up the slope with water streaming from his clothing and from the recesses of his armor. Constantine was busy getting his own men out of the river, but he noted with approval that the other officer did not stop to rest until all of his command, except the few who had drowned, were safely on the shore. Only then did he turn over command to a centurion and come striding back to where Constantine and Dacius had dismounted.
“I owe you my life, Tribune,” he said, speaking in excellent Latin, though his dark skin and broad cheekbones Constantine was sure meant that he was other than a Roman by birth. “My name is Tiridates.”
Flavius Valerius Constantinus
Constantine snapped to attention. “Flavius Valerius Constantinus salutes the King of Armenia,” he said formally.
“That title I’m afraid I no longer hold,” Tiridates said with a wry smile. “The Persians have driven me out of my domain, just as they have driven the army I was part of out of this area.”
“Is Caesar Galerius safe?” Constantine asked.
“He was the last time I saw him,” said Tiridates a bit dryly. “My command was acting as a rear guard, while the main part of the army retreated across the river. But the Persian cavalry managed to cut us off from the rest of the column and drove us here to the neighborhood of Dura.”
“You know the town?”
“There’s not much left of it, I’m afraid. One of my men is from this area and remembered that the river could be crossed here, so we were making for this spot. The Persians would have cut us off, though, if you hadn’t arrived when you did.” Tiridates gave Constantine a quick probing glance. “Are you the son of Constan tius Chlorus?”
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