Greek Fire

by James Boschert

  Much later Alexios joined them and told them an extraordinary thing.

  “The Emperor and his generals do not know what to do over there,” he exclaimed angrily after he had settled in between Talon and Max, who made room for him around the fire.

  “What happened?” Talon asked him as he passed a piece of stale bread to him.

  “Well I am probably finished in this world anyway, but they were talking about leaving the army and trying to get away as a small group.” Alexios’ tone was despondent. He chewed without appetite on the scrap of bread.

  “They were what?” There was an indignant chorus of voices from those men who understood him.

  Alexios swallowed and took a sip of water before saying anything. “I told them that they could not desert the army, it would be shameful, and if they did then they were more likely to be taken prisoner before the rest of us anyway. We know full well that we cannot surrender to the Turks. It is slavery or worse for anyone who does.”

  “You might have misheard?” Cuthberht enquired.

  “No…I did not.”

  “I bet they did not like being told that,” Eadgar said, almost under his breath. “Treacherous whoresons, and to think that we’re expected to defend them with our lives. God protect us all from leaders like that.”

  “I imagine that Kontostephanos did not disapprove of your words,” Talon said by way of encouragement.

  Alexios did not respond, and Talon guessed that his friend had been shocked at his own presumption. One did not address the emperor in that way. Talon looked around him in the gloom of the early night and wondered who would still be with them in the morning. The men nearby wore the exhausted and haunted look of people who do not have any hope that they will survive.

  There was another shout of alarm and they all scrambled to man the crude defenses.

  __________

  So, when our bodies rot in earth,

  The singing souls that once were ours,

  Weaponed with light and helmed with mirth,

  Shall front the kingdoms and the powers.

  The ancient lie is on its throne,

  And half the living still forget;

  But, since the dead are all our own,

  Courage, it is not over yet.

  Alfred Noyes

  Chapter 14

  An Army at Bay

  The army of the Byzantines battled for its life through much of the night that followed, standing at the crude defenses which had been feverishly thrown together from branches and rocks by the Antioch infantry the previous afternoon.

  The struggle was often hand to hand as the Turks attempted time and again to break in and finish what they had almost won the day before. In the flickering light of the makeshift torches and the fires that had been started by the eunuchs and other retainers, the men of Byzantium fought with desperation against a howling mass of Turks. The press of men surged back and forth around the defenses as they stabbed and hacked at one another, or fell in an embrace of death, some even biting at their foes as they died.

  Talon and his companions held a place alongside the contingent of Varangians who were not directly responsible for the defense of the emperor. Men from the Edessa infantry joined them, fierce fighters who wielded long spears and could hold off the raging opposition while Talon and others like him picked off their leaders with arrows fired almost at point blank range.

  From time to time the Turks would succeed in pulling a man out of the packed ranks of the Byzantines with long hooks, and then would butcher him screaming in front of all. At one time Cuthberht was almost seized: his sleeve was hooked and the Turks began to drag him out. But Max had seen what was happening, and with a shout he leapt forward and slashed the shaft of the hook in two. Both he and Cuthberht were hauled back into their own ranks by many willing hands.

  “I owe you!” Cuthberht shouted, wiping his face. He then hacked fiercely at one of the enemy who was within range of his huge axe, almost cutting him in two.

  In the process of blocking a cut from a Turk Max’s blade shattered. He was left for a moment holding the remains of his sword and was very vulnerable. But Cuthbert was watching out for him, and as Talon shot an arrow at the Turk, he seized the sword off one of the dead Varangians at their feet and tossed it to Max. Max caught it in midair and went back to the fight, his new blade flashing in the torchlight.

  The carnage along all parts of the wall was terrible and bodies were piled high. Finally even the Turks had had enough and left the wall to fade into the night, leaving the defenders panting and licking their wounds.

  The exhausted defenders watched numerous fires spring up all over the valley as the Turks settled down for the night. The moans and screams of the wounded were a dreadful sound that Talon wished he could block out from his ears. Eventually some of the Tagmata, the light infantry, stole out into the dark and finished off the wounded Turks nearby who were calling out in their own language for water from anyone. There was no mercy. A scream would suddenly stop or a voice would be pleading in the darkness only to be followed by abrupt silence.

  When the scouts could find them in the dark, they hauled their own wounded back into the confines of the stinking camp and attended to them as best they could. Water was short, so a few brave souls with some reluctant guards ventured to the river and came hurrying back with enough for the Emperor and his entourage. Although it was late at night the canopy of stars overhead gave off enough light to see the boundaries of the camp and the huddles of men who were resting while they waited for the next attack. Talon saw men slip out and guessed that they too were going for water. No one was challenged, so it seemed as though the Turks were as exhausted as the Byzantine army.

  He thought of them all as Byzantine but the truth was that few of the men in this army were in fact Greek. Many of the units were mercenaries who had come to the empire to earn good money, as had the Varangians and the men from Antioch, who had lost their king Baldwin just the day before in the gorge. There were units of Bulgars, Franks and Germans on large horses, and many other native auxiliaries whose homes used to be in this general region before the Turks displaced them.

  Talon, Alexios, and Max, with his new-found friend Dog now constantly at his side, took turns to sleep but it was nearly impossible with the din and the stink. Despite this Talon managed to get in a little rest and woke to see the beginning of dawn in the eastern sky. Alexios was still sleeping, but Max was standing with the dog at his side looking to the east where the Turkish encampment lay.

  Talon clambered to his feet feeling stiff and sore. He came and ruffled the head of the dog, then stood next to Max, who was standing with his feet apart leaning on his new sword. Talon looked at the shining blade. It was of brighter steel than normal swords and it bore an inscription. Max noticed his stare and lifted the blade for him to look at it.

  “It is of harder steel than my former sword. I have heard of these, they are a legend among the Northern warriors. They call such swords by this name, ‘Ulfberht’—look! See the letters? They are stamped into the steel! There is even a small cross with the letters at the beginning and between the H and the T. Cuthbert gave me a fine sword indeed. From all that I hear this metal is as good as any Damascus steel.”

  “Then that is a fitting blade for a Templar, Max. You have earned it,” Talon said.

  They did not say anything more to one another. There was no need. Talon rubbed his eyes, which were gritty with lack of sleep, and felt his beard, which was matted with filth. His arm burned and his shoulders ached painfully from all the work with his bow. He looked at Max and the other men nearby, mostly them Norsemen or English. They all looked haggard with exhaustion. None of them had bathed for days and their eyes were sunken in gaunt faces that were muddy or smeared with blood. Their armor or chain mail was dented and rent, while their tunics were torn and stained with their own blood and surely that of others. This was an army in no condition to take the fight to the enemy. He wondered what was going to become of t
hem.

  The sky changed from a pale grey streaked with pearl to a light shade of blue; eventually the sun climbed over the edge of the mountains and another hot day had begun. The army woke and manned the walls, ‘standing to their places’ in case the Turks decided that they would have another attempt at them. Nothing happened, however, although they could clearly see groups of horses tethered in the distance. The Turks, it seemed, were content to let the Byzantine army wait until they were ready.

  Far off in the distance Talon and Max heard the sound of the call to prayers and noticed an increase in activity at the enemy camp.

  Alexios woke and came to join the other two and announced that he was hungry. None of them had anything to share so he wandered off to see if he could scrounge something from the emperor’s attendants. He came back with a few crusts of bread and some salted fish, which he shared.

  “This is all they would give me,” he grunted as he gnawed at the fish, which was dried and tough.

  “I don’t care, this fish is fine for breakfast, but you’ll have to do better than this for lunch, Alexios,” Max said. He gave a morsel to the dog, which gulped it down gratefully and looked at him with a beseeching look for more. He patted it on the head.

  “There is nothing else for any of us, Dog,” he said.

  Alexios grunted and managed a weak grin. Talon watching him thought of how he had changed since the first time they had met. The arrogance was gone and he had lines of exhaustion on either side of his mouth but he was holding up. The rest of the army was eating what they had left but the future now looked bleak. They had no supplies and were effectively cut off from any retreat.

  Alexios waved off the circling flies that had appeared just after dawn and now swarmed around the army.

  “Damned flies!” he complained.

  Talon was not surprised. Excrement, urine, and blood were everywhere. The place stank worse than a dung heap. To this noisome stink was now added the fetid odor of the corpses piled high all around the perimeter.

  “I am sorry for the wounded. The flies will make life hell for them now,” Max remarked.

  Talon had a thought. “Has anyone seen Pantoleon?” he asked.

  Alexios shook his head. “Not since the rocks began to fall. I…we have been too busy.”

  Talon knew what he meant. They had all been too busy trying to stay alive to worry about others outside their immediate circle. There was a brief silence.

  “Perhaps he is with the Emperor even now,” Max suggested.

  “I did not like him much, but he was a fighter. He should have been with us at the walls. I do not remember seeing him with the generals either,” Alexios said softly.

  Max voiced his thoughts. “We cannot go anywhere and the Turks are staying put. I wonder if there is a plan to break out and rush back down the gorge.”

  “From what I have noticed, those nearest the Emperor have not got a plan,” Alexios said. He sounded resigned and bitter.

  “Then we must look to ourselves, for when the Turks come today it will be to finish us off or to ask us to surrender.”

  “What do you intend to do, Talon?” Max asked, as he picked some dried fish out from between his teeth with a dirty fingernail.

  “I do not intend to be taken prisoner, Max. If the Emperor wants to surrender that is his business, but I intend to find a way out and you are coming with me.”

  “God’s will, that I shall,” Max agreed.

  Alexios looked at them both. “I would like to come too, if...you will accept me.”

  “Good,” Max said. “Three is better than two, and perhaps we can persuade some of the Norsemen to come as well, they will make good company. And I am taking the dog with us.”

  “Good idea, Max. Then we should check our horses carefully and make ready for anything.”

  They did not have much to do. Their mounts were standing among a forlorn group of horses held by some younger men who had been ordered to keep them from bolting. The animals needed water but apart from many scratches and a few nicks from a sword or spear they appeared to be in reasonable shape. They left the horses and went back to the walls to stare at the Turkish encampment.

  Finally the Turks began to assemble out on the plain and the call to man the defenses was shouted to the tired men of the Byzantine army. The Turks wanted to engage at a distance at first, loosing many arrows into the crowded ranks of the defenders and riding off when there were too many arrows coming back at them. Talon worked with others to make them keep their distance.

  Eventually, however, the Turks became bolder and began to rush the defenses as though looking for weak points. They howled battle cries as they jumped off their horses and rushed recklessly at the rocks and branches confronting them. They were met with yells and shouts from the Varangians and men from Antioch who stabbed and hacked at the enemy as they tried to break through. Once again the fighting became a savage close quarter affair on a wide front with Max and Talon fighting in the company of the Varangians accompanied by Alexios and some spearmen.

  Suddenly they heard a lot of shouting in the distance and the Turks in front of them began to fade away. Talon turned to see a group of Byzantine cavalry charge out through a gap opened in the wall to attack the Turks, who retreated hurriedly as the heavier horses came sweeping out. But the Byzantine cavalry were not archers, and they soon began to find that they were exposed to the accurate fire of arrows from the retreating Turks who shouted at the cavalry as though daring them to follow. Talon recognized the leader of the Byzantine cavalry and wondered if he would be stupid enough to do so, but John Angelos was not a fool. He chased the Turks long enough to make his point then ordered his men back behind the relative cover of the defenses.

  The harassment began again, but this time the Turks were content to rain arrows upon the Byzantine army, inflicting many injuries, but few were fatal. Once again the cavalry sortied out to chase them away; they were armed with bows, but once again they had to retreat before they were sucked into the ambush the Turks had prepared. It was Constantine Makrodoukas who led them, and the frustrated general had to acknowledge that his cavalry could not engage the Turks and their mounted bowmen. Talon and Max watched the whole thing from inside, then in mute accord, they went back with the dog in tow to look at their horses and make sure they were ready to leave at a moment’s notice.

  “Those Turks are incredible riders! I have seen you do the same, Talon. So is this where you learned that skill of yours with a bow on horseback?”

  “I learned Persia, and you’ll note that the Byzantine cavalry cannot fight them on equal terms.”

  “Indeed I do. How is it that they have not learned this skill better?”

  “That I do not know, but they have had long enough fighting these people to learn how to adapt and use it. They do not seem to have learned much at all. Some of them can use a bow on the horse, but few as well as the Turks.”

  “There seem to be fewer Turks about today, Talon. I could have sworn they were everywhere yesterday.”

  “They are probably looting our baggage trains and do not have much time for us right now. We can’t go anywhere.”

  As they were talking the men on the walls facing the main Turkish encampment began to shout and point. Thinking they were under attack again the two of them looked at one another and then rushed to join the mob of men heading for the fortifications. As they jostled for position in their usual place alongside the cheerful Varangians who were chattering in their own guttural language, they were greeted by the sight of a small group of Turks riding to their camp, bearing white flags. Everyone stared at the oncoming men and wondered what they might be about.

  The Turks stopped a discreet arrow length away. One of them who spoke Greek called out that they wanted to speak to the Emperor. Alexios was on the wall, and as the officer nearest to the visitors, told one of his soldiers to run and alert the Emperor and his generals. As the man sped off the soldiers stared at one another across the divide. The Turks appeared c
alm and content to wait, sitting quietly on their ponies who fidgeted and whisked flies away with their tails. The silence hung heavily on both sides as they waited.

  Then General Kontostephanos hurried up to Alexios; there was a brief discussion, which Talon could not hear, but Alexios pointed at the Turks.

  The general peered over the battlements at the delegation and raised his hand acknowledging their presence. Then Alexios called a man over and explained something to him. The man nodded, stood on the rocks, and shouted in Turkish to the waiting men.

  Three men broke away from the group and walked their horses slowly towards the defenders. One of them was carrying the white banner, another was leading a splendid horse by an ornate silver inlaid bridle, while the third carried a long slim item wrapped in a silk cloth. They dismounted at the wall and a space was made which just allowed them to lead the horse though. The Turkish soldiers outside the compound held their own mounts. The envoys were then taken up to the general, who curtly acknowledged them and then walked with them and the magnificent horse towards the place where the Emperor and his remaining entourage waited. Kontostephanos waved to Alexios to come and join him. Alexios needed no persuasion.

  “If I know my horses, that is a Nisaean, bred from the Turcomans in Persia,” Talon said to Max.

  “Beautiful animal,” Max commented with approval as they watched the dark chestnut with the glossy hide and flowing mane and tail walk by.

  The Byzantine army waited impatiently for the seemingly endless discussion to come to an end. The conference was held in the open as there were no tents, but the Varangian guard surrounded the Emperor, his officers, and the Turkish delegation so no one could see or hear what was going on.