Beyond the Euphrates and Tigris. A wide plain, with the imperial camp. Copses, to the left and in the background, hide the windings of the Tigris. Masts of ships rise over the thickets in long rows, stretching into the far distance. A cloudy evening.
Soldiers and men-at-arms of all sorts are busy pitching their tents on the plain. All kinds of stores are being brought from the ships. Watchfires far away. Nevita, Jovian, and other officers come from the fleet.
Nevita.
See, now, how rightly the Emperor has chosen! Here we stand, without a stroke, on the enemy’s territory; no one has opposed our passage of the river; not even a single Persian horseman is to be seen.
Jovian.
No, sir, by this route, the enemy certainly did not expect us.
Nevita.
You speak as if you still thought this route unwisely chosen.
Jovian.
Yes, sir, it is still my opinion that we should rather have taken a more northerly direction. Then our left wing would have rested on Armenia, which is friendly towards us, and all our supplies might have come from that fruitful province. But here? Hampered in our progress by the heavy freight-ships, surrounded by a barren plain, almost a desert—— Ah! the Emperor is coming. I will go; I am not in his good graces at present.