Once most of the shouting and whoops died down, General Vahan continued, “Together we will march on the Tyre road toward the coast. The Imperial Tagmata from Constantinople is at this very moment unloading from their ships at Tyre. They will march east along the Tyre road and join us. With the addition of the Palestinia Tourma that we will meet at our rendezvous point in the Yarmok Valley, we will be a host of fifty thousand of the Emperor’s finest!”
General Vahan once again paused, and the men of the three Tourmas let out a tremendous war scream. “Together we will send these bewitched Arab Cannibals back to hell where they belong!” Another huge war-whoop burst from the men of the three units.
The General waited for the noise die down. When the sound faded, he began speaking again, “The 5th Parthica will form the vanguard of our mighty Syrian Thema! 2nd Aleppo will march in the middle, and the 8th Mesopotamian will march in the rear today. With every new day, the lead Tourma will drop back to the rear position, to be replaced by the middle. In this way, we can all eat our equal share of dust!”
The men of the Syrian Thema laughed. Immediately upon completion of General Vahan’s last sentence, a small formation of priests emerged from the West Gate. They were led by a young priest carrying a large cross of gold. The cross was held aloft at the end of a pole also made of gold.
The General finished up his address, “I know that you will do the Empire proud, turn back this threat, and keep the people of Syria safe! The Bishop of Damascus will now send us on our way to battle with God’s blessing!”
The group of priests, perhaps twenty in number, was led by the Bishop of Damascus Armash Nalbandian. Bishop Nalbandian followed behind the twenty priests and the cross bearer. Unlike the other priests who were on foot, he was mounted on a chestnut mare. Several of the priests swung incense burners back and forth.
Armash, still mounted on his chestnut, mare trotted up beside General Vahan. He began a prayer, “O mighty God, please bless these men as they march forth to combat a great evil emerging from Satan’s breast. Please give them the endurance to march the many miles that they must through the desert to give battle to the hell spawn. Please, O mighty God, keep them hale and free of pestilence as they march. Please, O mighty God, help them to be brave in the face of our enemies. God, lend them your strength so that as the battle goes on and the sun sinks toward the horizon, their strength will not leave them. O mighty God, please send your angels to watch over them in their darkest hours of need. Please infuse these men with the Holy Spirit!” Bishop Nalbandian paused for a few moments and then finished the prayer, “In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, Amen!”
In the time that Bishop Nalbandian took to bless the Thema, the priests with the cross of gold and incense burners swinging back and forth had marched to the head of the 5th Parthica. General Vahan pulled out his Spatha pointed down the Tyre road and bellowed, “Syria forward!” As one the Kentarchia commanders of the 5th Parthica yelled, “Forward!” After a few seconds of delay, Athos and the men of the 2nd Kentarchia of the 5th Parthica began marching.
As soon as the formations were out of sight of Damascus, they halted their march to allow the soldiers to take off their armor. Each man placed the armor into his armor bag which was kept on the wagons that followed each Tourma. Hours into the march the sun beat down upon their heads and shoulders. Discipline out in the desert away from the eyes of Damascus’ many civilians, became a bit laxer.
Athos and the men of his Kontoubernion led by their Dekanos Constan began to chat as they marched. From time to time Nikas would join in on conversations that interested him. This helped to set the tone for a more relaxed mood as the men of the 2nd Kentarchia marched west toward the setting sun.
Baltazar looked over at Athos and asked, “How did things go with Athea last night?” Athos closed his eyes and let the memories of the previous night wash over him.
Athos smiled, “I am in love.” This remark immediately got the men marching around him to laugh and drop a few well-intentioned insults. “We walked for a time after Constan’s group of veterans left, and she was able to close up. After a while, I led her to where my friend Hadad stood guard on the city walls. We went up into one of the towers and enjoyed the view. Then we kissed.”
Baltazar slapped Athos on the back and said, “Good job, buddy. Glad to hear it!”
Athos blushed a bit at this reaction and continued, “We went back to her dwelling.”
Constan jumped into the conversation, “Now you are getting somewhere, lad!”
Athos sighed and ground his teeth a bit, “It’s not like that at all. We went back to her place, drank some wine, talked, and fell asleep with our clothes on!”
“Oh lad, my opinion of ye is sinking,” Constan shook his head sadly in reply to Athos’ revelation.
“Constan, I don’t care. Athea is not a common whore. She is the woman that I want to spend the rest of my days with.”
Constan pursed his lips in obvious disapproval, “It’s your life, lad, but never forget ye are a soldier of the Empire pledged to die in the service of the Emperor for the greater glory of God Almighty.” Several of the men around them made a sign of the cross at the mention of God. Someone a few rows back made a retching sound in response to Constan’s statement.
As the sun got low in the sky, a place was selected by General Vahan for their marching camp. It was not very far beyond the point where just a few days before they had turned off the Tyre road to ascend the heights of Mount Hermon. The 5th Parthica, being the first in line, got the privilege of doing the majority of the work on the marching encampment. Athos couldn’t decide if the privilege of not getting to eat the dust churned up by ten thousand pairs of sandals was worth this backbreaking labor at the end of the day.
The camp slowly came to life as the ditch was dug and the sandy walls took shape. Inside a much larger version of the 5th Parthica’s permanent camp in Damascus began to form. Instead of brick and stone, this was one of leather and canvas. In the center was the command group with General Vahan’s tent in the middle. Flanking the command group was the cavalry. The Skutatoi and Toxatoi were clustered around this center along the walls. Men were assigned watches, and the rest of the camp cooked their evening meal and relaxed.
Chapter 13
Evening August 5th Bethlehem, Palestinia Province, Byzantium
Invasion
James absently mindedly swatted at a fly that had landed on his arm. He sighed, Another boring watch. He looked south down the road out into the desert. James stood atop the battlement that overlooked Bethlehem’s southern gate. He sighed again. Off to his right, he saw a flash. He turned his head in that direction and saw some dark clouds off to the west. After several seconds a dull rumble came from that direction.
Well, at least it will be cooler soon, he thought. All week a very hot and arid wind had been blowing from the direction of Arabia and the deep desert. The City of Bethlehem sweltered as a result. The coming storm would bring much-needed relief from the heat.
James shifted his spear from his right hand to his left. He flexed the stiff fingers of his right hand. The tingle of circulation caused a momentary pain as life came back into the appendage. He used his right hand to scratch an itch on his inner thigh. As he did so, his eyes picked up on some movement on the horizon. Odd.
Noticing several different points along the horizon moving toward the gate. He squinted to try and get a better view. A flash of lightning helped to illuminate the horizon better. He noticed small dots on top of larger dots. The small dots seemed to be bobbing up and down.
He scratched, swatted at a fly on his neck, and pondered for a moment, Riders, but why are they all galloping? He watched as they drew closer, trying to decide if he should sound the alarm and signal for the gate to be closed. Lightning flashed, and a few seconds later thunder rolled over the town. The first rider drew closer and closer as he very quickly covered the distance to the gate. He seemed to be a merchant judging by his clothing.
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His kaffiyeh looked like it was unraveling and would fly off his head at any moment. He looks harmless enough, James thought. A few seconds later he thundered into the gate and yelled. “Mobilize the militia! The Bewitched Arab Cannibals are not far behind!”
The man dismounted from his horse and drew a wicked looking scimitar from the scabbard attached to his saddle and made for the stairs leading up to the battlement. A flash of lightning crackled above, and the light from the flash reflected off the scimitar illuminating the man’s face for the first time. He appeared to be a Gassanid. The Gassanids were nomads and longtime allies of the Empire. James could see a few locks of jet-black hair hanging loosely from the man’s kaffiyeh. The strands of hair contrasted with the swarthy complexion of his face.
The guard at the gate sat for several moments stunned. James watched the whole scene unfold underneath him. The man stopped his ascent, turned around, and ran up to the guard. Zacchary I think his name is, thought James. The man strode toward Zacchary while pulling a riding glove off of his left hand. The man took the glove and slapped Zacchary’s face, “Sound the alarm you fool, we don’t have long!” Zacchary finally snapped to his senses and blew on his whistle. Within moments the monks began ringing the bell at the nearby Church of the Nativity.
Over the course of several minutes, other bells across the town joined in. The sounds of several bells all ringing at once created an amazing amount of noise. A tear ran down James’ cheek. The sound was both beautiful and horrible at the same time. Merchants began packing up their goods and closing their shops. Mothers quickly snatched up their children playing in the fountain at the center of town and elsewhere. Members of the militia, with looks of determination on their faces, ran to their homes. They quickly donned their armor and gathered their simple weapons. They kissed their wives goodbye and hugged their kids. Some families prayed together before they separated. Once the men were gone, doors were shut and barred. Followed by the sound of shutters being closed, all over the town.
The town guard during times of peace normally had one guard about every hundred feet keeping watch over the town and the desert. With the militia mobilized and all three shifts of the guard on the wall, this changed. A guard every one hundred feet became a man every four feet. This thin ribbon of protection was all that there was to keep a threat at bay. Behind the men of Bethlehem was everything they held dear. Wives, children, grandchildren, and the livelihood that kept them all fed. While frightened they were also determined to keep all that they hold dear safe.
More riders arrived with looks of fright and terror on their faces. Most continued to ride into the town, but some abandoned their horses and drew weapons. Their looks varied from determined to scared. All were nervous. They joined the men of Bethlehem up on the wall. People on foot began arriving a short time later. They looked haggard and exhausted. Sweat poured from them. As they arrived, they stood to the side of the road and bent over trying to catch their breath. Several vomited with the efforts it took to stay ahead of the Bewitched Arab Cannibals. Next in was a woman, holding her child in her arms.
The child cried. Not a normal cry but one that let it be known that those young eyes had seen things they should never have. It was as if this tender child had gazed upon the pits of hell. The child continued crying hysterically as the mother tried to calm her. James watched the mother failing to console her terrified child. Finally, she pulled out a breast to give the child’s mouth something else to do besides cry. The child eagerly latched onto the source of nourishment and quieted.
James turned back to look out into the desert. He noticed a cloud of dust now on the southern horizon. It began to rain, as the sky grew dark making it difficult to see. Lightning flashed, revealing a mass of movement maybe half a mile distant. Thunder boomed overhead, and the wind picked up.
The rain started slowly, a few big drops at first. The feel of them on James’ skin helped to cool him. The plop of the rain drops on the battlement created steam as they impacted the stone works, but slowly the steam ebbed away as the battlements cooled. Soon the occasional droplet turned into many and finally the many turned into a torrent. The wooden shaft of James’ spear grew slippery in his hand.
James heard the sounds of hooves thundering down the road. Was there another rider?” The next flash of lightning did indeed reveal a rider. He recognized the light armor and uniform the man wore as an army scout. The horse the man road, hooves thumping on the cobble stones as they entered town. The rider screamed, “The cannibals are on my heels. Close the gate!” Zacchary, fully alert, now slammed the gate shut. The rider leaped off his horse and assisted Zacchary. With the rider’s help, Zacchary lowered the bar in place, locking the gate.
James turned back to the desert. The mass was very close now. James began praying out loud, “God, please give me the strength to hold this wall. Please, oh mighty God, infuse your strength into our town guard, the militia, and these brave strangers. Please imbue us with the Holy Spirit and send your angels to aid us in keeping the minions of Satan at bay.” He clutched a wooden cross on a chain around his neck. He closed his eyes for a moment and took in a deep breath trying to steady his nerves. The stench of death filled his nostrils.
James could hear them now. For the first time, he could see the individuals that comprised the mass. They wore clothing of the style of the peoples of the deep desert. Sprinkled amongst them were individuals wearing clothing that belonged to citizens of the Empire. The clothes of the Arabs were tattered, worn, and ripped in many locations. The ashen skin of the cannibals hung loosely from their bones. Several of them had horrific wounds that no one could survive. The Gassanid merchant suddenly cried out in anguish. “My son,” he whispered.
The seething mass emitted moans and growls. As they drew closer, their temperament changed. As a group they paused, their dull gray eyes searching. Finally, they saw him and the others atop the battlement and screamed. It was a horrible shrill of a scream the likes of which had not been heard this side of hell.
The mass of creatures charged the walls. They covered the distance very quickly. What are they doing? James thought. He said out loud to the merchant with the scimitar who had taken up a position to his right. “What do they hope to accomplish? They have no siege engines or ladders.”
A few seconds later he got his answer. The first row crashed into the walls with a wet sounding thwack and began to claw at it. The press of their weight on the gate made it groan. The second row of the creatures jumped on the first row. They reached up toward him with their arms, keening, groaning, and moaning. A few seconds later the third row climbed onto the second and did the same. It took the creatures a total of thirty seconds to reach the top of the wall.
James readied his spear to face them. He saw a flash of movement in his peripheral vision off to his left. He stabbed toward the movement and was rewarded with a hit. His spear sank deep into the head of the creature. The creature just flopped to the ground and stopped moving instantly.
His right eye picked up movement in that direction. He yanked the spear out and thrust it out in front of him just in time to block another creature hurtling toward him. He gave the creature a push with the spear shaft he held in both hands. The creature stumbled back a foot. James shifted his stance and jammed the spear right into the chest of the creature.
The thrust did not seem to bother the creature in the slightest! James thought in growing horror. The creature then simply walked forward and pushed itself down the shaft. James looked on stunned during the few seconds this took. The creature grabbed him and sank its teeth into his throat. He tried to scream, but his Adam's apple was ripped away by sharp teeth. He began falling when another creature bit into his abdomen. He could feel the creature feasting on his innards as his body hit the wet, cold stone of the battlement, now awash in his blood. A few seconds later his vision mercifully faded away.
Chapter 14
Morning, August 6th 636 Somewhere on the Tyre Road, Palestinia Province, B
yzantium
Athos awoke to the blast of several Cornu signaling the beginning of the day. He yawned and looked over at Baltazar who was sharing a small tent with him. Baltazar smiled in greeting, “Let us rise and break our fast.”
Athos grunted in acknowledgment. He rubbed his eyes and then slowly nodded his agreement. He leaned over, grabbed his pack, and rummaged around in his bag until he found his flour. He then fashioned two round blobs from it. The fire had almost gone out. Only a few burning embers remained.
While Athos worked on the biscuits, Baltazar walked to the end of the street formed by their tents. He spotted the dung basket, reached down into it, and grabbed a piece. During the march, slaves trailed behind the marching men of the Thema. They carried round baskets and collected the dung excreted from the horses and other animals of the Thema.
When full, the baskets were placed into a wagon. The dung spent the remainder of the day baking in the sun drying out. Once the site for the marching camp was determined, the slaves would place a basket at the end of each street in the camp. The dried dung was then used to fuel the campfires that night.
Baltazar returned to the dying fire, stoked it, and placed more dung into it. It took several minutes, but the fire slowly increased in intensity. Athos then put the biscuits on a flat stone and set the stone in the fire. In time the flour rose slightly and formed into golden brown biscuits. When they looked ready, Athos used his Spatha to move the stone out of the fire. After a few minutes to cool, Athos picked up his biscuit. He reached into his pack and pulled a flask of olive oil out, took the stopper off, and let a few drops drip into the biscuit. The olive oil helped to flavor the biscuit and make it more palatable. Baltazar grabbed his biscuit and followed suit.
While the soldiers did this, slaves led a wagon full of canteens down each road of the camp. The slaves tossed a wooden canteen to each soldier. This was the daily water ration for the soldiers. Athos and Baltazar each took a small sip from their canteen to wash the dryness of the biscuit out of their mouths. They saved the rest for when it would be truly needed later on when the sun’s rays drew the moisture from their bodies.
Byzantium Infected Box Set Page 18