“Say what you will about the Spanish bastard,” muttered the same komes who had spoken earlier. “Better horses than his I’ve never seen.”
“Yes.” Theo spoke grimly. “There is none anywhere in the world to rival the Illiberis breed; they are trained from birth to the bow and sword.” It made him sick to see Lælia’s beloved breed in Oppa’s hands, knowing that he himself had signed the deed that might one day result in Oppa’s owning the best Illiberis had to offer.
The kometes glanced aside at him. “You know them?”
Theo nodded once, swallowing his guilt. “I know them.”
“The Arabs will try to negotiate.” Leontios was drawing in the sand as he went on. “Their show of force is a bluff, and they know it. They cannot win against us. They have half our number. They will approach from the north, and that is where the Slavic army will focus both horse and foot. Our cataphracts will form the front line of each wing, and Oppa will lead his horse archers behind them. The Slavs at the centre will be flanked by their own cavalry and be headed by the skutatoi, ahead of two detachments of light foot. When the Arabs realise they are outmanned,” Leontios said with satisfaction, “we will send our negotiators to them. The Arabs do not want war. They want coin.” Theo and the other commanders stared at him, not daring to look at one another. Oblivious to their stunned expressions, Leontios continued: “Given that the Slavic forces will confront the Arabs from higher ground, with the city wall at their backs, I do not anticipate any skirmish to enter the city itself.”
Theo waited with the other men of the Karabisianoi for the defensive plan of the city. But Leontios merely smiled at his commanders.
“We will triumph!” he said, pounding his chest and thrusting his arm out into the air. “For Justinian, for God, for Constantinople!” Obediently the men raised mailed arms and cried their approbation, but the cries had a hollow sound, and looking at the troubled faces nearby, Theo knew he was not the only one questioning the wisdom of assuming the walls would stand.
Theo stepped forward and knelt. “Strategos.”
“Stand.” Leontios’s smile faded. He frowned at Theo impatiently. “Speak.”
“Do you wish to order a formation within the city walls?” Theo indicated the men nearby. “The Karabisianoi will be idle through the battle. Perhaps we can be better utilised on the walls, and mounting a defence, in the event the Arabs close in on the city.”
Leontios’s frown grew heavy. “The Karabisianoi have already been instructed to remain with your ships,” he said brusquely. “Should the Arabs attack by sea, we must hold the port.”
“Yes.” Then, knowing it was reckless but unable to stop himself, Theo went on: “But we know the Arabs will not attack by sea. We have had patrols scouring it in every direction for days. There are barely any ships accompanying Marwan’s forces, only a handful of command dromons. Marwan’s army is a land force. His dromons are directed elsewhere. The bulk of his attack must come by land. Please” – he nodded respectfully at Leontios – “allow us to man the walls, to be on hand should any trouble befall your forces on the field.”
Leontios’s eyes narrowed, and he looked at Theo with an unpleasant expression on his heavy face. “Do you doubt the skill of our forces?” he asked bluntly.
Sanyi, the tourmarchai who oversaw the fleet at harbour, stepped forward and put a restraining hand on Theo’s arm. He was a quiet man and a good one, new to the port but not to war. “No, Strategos.” Sanyi spoke respectfully, but he still met Leontios’s eye. “God willing, it will be as you have planned. My komes seeks only to give to the emperor’s forces what humble aid he may be able to proffer, in the event that losses become heavy.”
“Pah!” Leontios waved a careless hand in the air. “These Arabic dogs will be brought to heel.” He smiled unpleasantly at Neboulos. “They will learn obedience, just as the Slavs have learned. And when it is done, and we no longer indulge the Arab greed by sharing coin rightfully belonging to the emperor, the Karabisianoi will have the honour of shipping the profits home.” He glanced dismissively at Theo. “That is the only true purpose of your presence here, boy. Do not think to overstep it.” The men hooted, not a few of them casting triumphant glances in Theo’s direction. Apsimar’s approval of the young man had not gone unmarked, and nor had Theo’s rapid rise through the ranks. Komes was a role much prized by those in the Karabisianoi. For a young man, and a foreigner at that, it was a heady height indeed, and there were those who were not sorry to see Leontios’s sharp putdown of Apsimar’s blazing prodigy.
Sanyi leaned close to Theo. “It is unwise to say any more,” he said quietly. Theo himself was unmoved, though as they left the church and stepped into the chill night, his forehead was creased and his head bowed.
Late that night he sat on the stone benches in the abandoned theatre, listening to the banter of his men and ignoring the soft grunts and moans from the shadows all around. It was the night before battle, and all men craved the touch of a woman, lest it be the last time he enjoyed it. Theo, however, had avoided the one place he might find such comfort. Lælia’s memory drew him, as it always seemed to when battle loomed. Even the slightest recollection of her had the power to suck the breath from his body. His interval with Elpis had seemed only to ensure the memories returned with an even more savage longing, and Theo found he could not, anymore, hide from them. He shook his head impatiently, frustrated that he was lost in such thoughts at such a time.
“All men think of the women they love before battle.” Silas’s dark eyes met his, wisdom creasing their corners. “Do not push such thoughts away, wenkai. They come to bring you power.”
Theo was grateful for the darkness, as he was for Silas’s unexpected kindness. It was the most the big man had said to him in weeks.
“It does not feel like power.” Theo tossed a pebble down the stone tiers.
Silas smiled. “She is always with you, wenkai. Your child bride.” He touched the twin amulets of coin and bone at Theo’s neck. “So long as the cord does not break, she rides with you. Her heart is strong, as is yours.” Seeing Theo’s visible surprise at his warm words, Silas gave a low laugh. “The night before battle is not a time for enemies, wenkai. If we are to fight together one last time, as you say, then let us do so as friends.”
Theo nodded, unable to find words. Eventually he cleared his throat. “I do not like Leontios’s strategy,” he said in a louder tone, changing the subject and including the wider group in his comment.
“He gives no instruction for the city?” one of the men asked. Theo shook his head. The man frowned. “But what if the Arabs breach the walls?”
“He does not believe that will happen.”
“Does it matter what he believes?” Silas stood up, powerful muscles gleaming ebony where the light caught them, one fist smacking into the palm of the other hand. “If the Arabs enter the city, they must be fought.” He turned to Theo. “What is your plan, wenkai?”
“The city is indefensible without standing forces at the weak sections of wall.” Theo spoke slowly; he had given the defence of Sebastopolis much thought over the last months. Sometimes he wondered if he had always known it would come to this: the Arabs standing beyond the walls, the dromons of the Karabisianoi the only escape route should those crumbling walls fall. “I cannot order standing forces there, Sanyi either, and Leontios will not. Which means all we can do is guard our ships and be ready to sail if it goes against us.”
“Pah!” Silas took a few short, frustrated strides, then turned to march back. “I do not like this! To remain by the port, helpless, do nothing except wait? This is not battle.”
“No.” Theo caught his friend’s eye and held it. “But it is what we will do, nonetheless,” he said quietly. “If the walls fall, we must be ready. The Arabs will give no quarter in their current mood.”
They lingered a while, then they returned to their dromons to try for a few hours of restless sleep.
Sanyi had found him late at night, as men tos
sed beneath the dark, moonless sky, the new crescent long since sunk behind the earth. “I cannot shift Leontios’s thinking,” he said bluntly. He had gathered the kometes away from their dromons, which lay silent and waiting on the still water. They stood in the shadows by the ruins of the defensive wall on the west side of the harbour.
“Then what will you command?” Theo asked.
Sanyi glanced about him cautiously. “When the fighting begins, we will turn the dromons around in port. Order the two bow oarsmen and the siphōnatores on each to remain aboard, ready with the siphons facing the dock.”
Theo nodded slowly. “It does mean that if an attack comes by sea, we cannot repel it with the fire siphons aimed onshore,” he warned.
“That is true.” Sanyi held his eyes. “But you and I both know there is no attack coming from the sea.”
“What else do we know?” one of the kometes asked. There was a rumble of assent from those gathered, a few men spitting on the ground as they watched Sanyi for a response.
“We know Sebastopolis cannot hold if the walls fall,” he said bluntly. “And we know there is dissent in the Slavic camp.” He looked around at his men. “Should the walls fall, the Slavs may not long stand. That means that if the walls do fall, we are the only way out of this port. Every man, woman, and child will run to us hoping for escape. The dromons will be overwhelmed. We take what we are ordered to, no more.”
“What about the women and children?” Theo nodded to where cloaked shapes lay against the walls, the villagers who were already guarding against the eventuality that they would be forced to evacuate.
“I know you have amongst them those who are dear to you.” Sanyi looked at them with hard eyes. “But we are in the service of the emperor, and these dromons are for transport of his forces only. No women. No children. Nobody who does not take Justinian’s coin boards these vessels. Do you understand? This is the clearest order I can give, and you will obey it. We will take as many of our men off these shores as we are able to safely carry – and not one soul that we cannot.”
It was the early hours of the morning when a light touch woke Theo from a restless sleep. He looked up to find Yosef standing over him. Yosef bent his head, and Theo followed his silent invitation out of the dromon and into the shadows around the docks.
When they were out of earshot, Yosef pushed Theo into a hidden alcove, not gently. “What deal have you made with Oppa?”
Theo broke free of Yosef’s grip and glared at him. “Is that the reason for your absence? Spying on me?”
“Answer the question,” said Yosef grimly. “He is here. He is not dead. There must be a reason.”
“You have not killed him either.”
Yosef did not smile. “I could have. I still can. I have not because there is something that you know and I do not.” His eyes were hard. “I know you put your name to a parchment, Theo. I need to know why – and what you agreed to.”
Weariness that had nothing to do with the tension of battle washed over Theo. “Spania is at war,” he said quietly. “My father and brother are in rebellion against Egica. Oppa says Illiberis, too, seems unlikely to stay out of it.”
“You knew this might happen.” Yosef’s expression had not changed. “Is it not much of the reason we set out on this journey from the start? We all knew it might come to this.”
“But we did not know, then, what was coming for us. Not really.” Theo gestured to the dark mountains beyond, in which lay the Arabic forces. “The Arabs were a distant threat, one we thought to deal with after we had shored up our own resources. Now, though…Yosef, you of all people have seen what power they wield, how fast they move.”
Yosef frowned. “What point do you make, Theo?”
“You are right. I have spoken with Oppa. He, too, has seen the Arabic threat we face, knows Spania must adapt to face it. In this, I believe, we share a common goal.”
“A common goal?” Yosef stared at him. “You think that Oppa wishes to shield Spania from the Arabs?”
“He is here, is he not?” Pricked by Yosef’s hard expression, Theo ploughed on. “Oppa could have gone home many times. He has not. He fears for Spania just as we do. He knows his father does not understand the threat. I do not like Oppa, Yosef, any more than I ever have, but I do believe he wishes to find a way to protect Spania from the Arab forces as much as we do.”
“Is that so?” Yosef stood back and folded his arms, his mouth a hard line. “And what is it that Oppa seeks from you, Theo, to help ‘protect’ Spania?”
“My family are condemned as traitors.” There was a curious relief in speaking it aloud, even if Yosef’s cold disdain made Theo sick inside. “But Aurariola is a strategic coastal holding. Oppa knows I have the skill to defend it and, with the dromons Laurentius has restored, the resources too. He will see to it that Aurariola remains in my family after the rebellion is done, regardless of my family’s involvement.”
“You say it like the rebellion is doomed to fail.”
“Of course it is doomed to fail,” said Theo harshly. “It always was. Oppa has had word from his father. Sunifred’s forces are outmatched and outnumbered. They cannot prevail.”
“I see.” Yosef eyed him with an expression Theo could not read. “And what is it that Oppa would take, in exchange for allowing you to inherit your father’s lands, Theudemir of Aurariola?” There was a sardonic accent to the way he said the title that made Theo flush.
“Egica is determined to have Illiberis,” he said dully, forcing himself to meet Yosef’s eyes.
Yosef nodded, as if Theo’s answer was no more than what he had expected. “And let me guess,” he said softly. “In exchange for giving it to him, Lælia will be spared and taken to the safety of Aurariola, where she will be married to you. Tell me, Theo – do you think Lælia will love you for giving away the land her people have belonged to since time beyond memory? Do you think she will rest quietly as lady of your lands, content for you to rule whilst she bears your children, embroidering cloth when you ride to battle?”
Every word thrust into Theo like a cold spear, stabbing through his confusion and uncertainty to the painful reality he knew to be truth. He spun away from Yosef’s penetrating eyes and leaned against the wall, hearing the sound of his own pulse in his ears.
“Do you think I don’t know that she will hate me for it?” he said, his voice rasping painfully. “But what am I to do, Yosef? Place my allegiance to Lælia, my love for her, above the future of the country our fathers fought to build? I do not like Oppa. I certainly do not trust him. But Spania itself is at stake, Yosef. If I return without his protection, I will be condemned as a traitor alongside my family, left with neither land, title, nor any means to play a part in Spania’s defence against the Arabic threat we both know is coming. If I stay here in the Karabisianoi, I will be sent where the emperor chooses – and it is unlikely he will choose Spania’s shores as worthy of defending. I must return, and when I do, I must be of use. I will not see Lælia sold at court to the highest bidder, even if she hates me for the rest of her days. Better she should hate me as my wife than love me as a whore at court.”
The words were hot bile in his throat. He swallowed, reining in the turmoil that threatened to drown him. “Oppa is many things,” he said grimly, “none of them honourable. But he wants power, and in Spania, he has the chance for it. That much I do believe.”
Yosef regarded him with folded arms. “I believe that, also.” Theo looked up in surprise. Yosef nodded. “That Oppa craves power, I do not doubt. Do you know why I do not doubt it, Theo?”
Theo watched him without answering.
“Because,” said Yosef coldly, “Oppa has already made alliances to ensure his own survival should the Arabs take Spania.” He met Theo’s eyes steadily. “He has already considered that the Arabs might be victorious there – just as he has ensured they will be here, in Sebastopolis.”
“Here?” Theo frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that Oppa ha
s made alliance with Mohammed bin Marwan.” Yosef’s words were hard as stones falling on the night. “He has been in contact with the Arab commander for months. I do not know the details of their alliance, but I do know that Marwan is certain of his victory here, and that Oppa’s intelligence has been instrumental in making his plans. I know that Oppa has stolen coin from the taxes owed on both sides. Enough coin to make him a rich man and make each side doubt the other.”
Yosef stepped closer to Theo and lowered his voice. “I do not know who amongst the emperor’s forces Oppa has corrupted. But I, too, have sources in the Arab army. I know that Sebastopolis will fall tomorrow. And when it does, it will be to Oppa the Arabs owe their victory. In return, they will allow his escape through their ranks – along with the coin he has made here, and the dromons, men, and arms he has bought with it.”
Theo stared at Yosef as he absorbed his words and what they meant. “He has played both sides this entire time.” His voice sounded old to his ears. “His objective is not to defend Spania from the Arabs. It is to betray it for his own power and gain.”
“And not only that,” Yosef continued remorselessly. “If he gains both Illiberis and Aurariola, Oppa controls two of the most powerful and strategic locations in the south. It is no accident he made you sign that agreement, Theo. Oppa will have control of both a port where the Arabs can land and the most impenetrable fortress in Old Bætica.”
“Tyr!” Theo gripped the stone wall, his head down between his hands. “I knew,” he muttered hoarsely. “I knew what he was. And still I let myself believe him changed. I let myself be blinded by my own ambition, my own fears of losing my right to play a part in Spania’s future.” He shook his head, shame and anger curdling within him. “Leofric had the right of it,” he said bitterly. “He said all that matters in battle is the men beside you. And I know Oppa enough to know I could never trust him at my side, with an army at my back.”
“Athanais told me that you have been eyes for Apsimar,” Yosef said quietly. “And I know you were not sure if I would return, nor if this mission of ours would ever amount to anything. I may not like the choice you made. But never think I don’t understand it.”
The King's Coin: Ambition is the only faith (Visigoths of Spain Book 2) Page 37