Byzantium Infected Box Set

by James Mullins

  Constan chuckled at the Governor and added, “I never had a desire to be anything more than a Dekanos,” The Governor opened his mouth to begin speaking when Constan held up his hand and continued his answer, “but I don’t have that luxury anymore.”

  “I’m glad you realized that, Tourmarches. We’d stand little chance to prevent the damned from overrunning Damascus without your leadership.”

  Constan blushed at the praise, “Be that as it may, we are still woefully short of manpower. Even if everyone finished their training today, we’re deficient on the number of Skutatoi we need to hold the walls.”

  “You have all the manpower I can muster.” Governor Maurice replied.

  “Aye, there’s hardly a man on the streets these days. The women are handling the basic functioning of the city.” Constan observed.

  “Well, I’ll see about getting you more men just as soon as we find some. Damascus is certainly tapped out in that respect.”

  The two men spoke at length about the state of Damascus’ defenses. As the time neared for his ten o’clock meeting with the Armory manager Constan excused himself from the Governor’s presence and left the palace. While walking down Straight Street, he couldn’t help but spend time observing the ladies of Damascus going about the business of keeping the city running. Some loaded and unloaded wagons of supplies while others, noticing his uniform, hawked various wares to him. They all seemed to think he was an easy mark with a heavy purse in his uniform.

  As Constan rounded the corner onto the road with the armory, he spied an amazing occurrence. A mother was chatting with another lady. She failed to notice that her daughter had wandered into the street. Turning the corner was a huge charcoal laden wagon, The driver probably can’t even see the child. The little girl, oblivious to the danger, saw something interesting on the road and got down on her knees to investigate.

  Constan started to yell when using the sixth sense all mothers seem to have, especially whenever their child was in danger, the mother turned and saw the wagon moments away from running over her child. In a blur, the woman jumped in front of the cart and shoved her child out of the way. This positioned the woman to be hit instead. Constan lost sight of the woman as the wagon rolled over the spot where she had been.

  “Wagon, stop!” Constan yelled.

  The driver, another lady, didn’t hear Constan’s call because of the noise that the wagon itself was making as it rolled down the street. He ran to get close enough to be heard over the commotion when he noticed the mother. She was laying on the cross bar between the horses.

  Constan yelled again for the driver to stop. This time the wagon driver, hearing Constan’s commanding voice to stop, pulled back hard on the reins of the two draft horses pulling it. The brown gelded male glanced back at the driver with what could only be described as an irritated look if it were to appear on a human face. The brown and gray female Arabian snorted and tugged at the reins nervously.

  At the same time, the toddler tried to locate her mother and couldn’t. Unsuccessful, she began to cry. The mother, now that the horses had stopped moving, quickly removed herself from the cross bar that connected the horses to the wagon and ran to her child. Constan amazed that this woman was still alive walked over to her and introduced himself.

  “Good morning.”

  The woman seeing Constan’s uniform gasped and said, “I’m sorry your lordship. My daughter is very young and didn’t know any better.”

  Constan smiled and said, “Aye, but her mum should have known enough to not leave her unattended in the street.”

  The woman’s shoulders slumped, and she replied meekly, “Aye.”

  “Water under the bridge now. What enabled you to avoid being run over? I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “Well,” she paused blushing as she tried to find the right words. “My father used to beat us at night when he would come home drunk. He always came home drunk, so I got really good at avoiding the old bastard’s blows by simply not being there to receive them.”

  Constan finished the thought, “So, you simply got out of the way of the horse's hooves by taking the only path in front of you to do so.”

  The woman nodded, “Yes, M'lord.”

  “First off I’m not your bloody lord. He died on a cross long ago. Second, me name is Constan.”

  The woman curtsied her threadbare brown skirt that matched the color of her hair and replied, “My name is Lilian.”

  “Well met, Lilian. Are there any other ladies in your family like you?”

  “My two sisters. We all got good at getting out of our father’s way. We're all married now with children. God be praised that our husbands treat us better than that worthless clod of a father ever did.”

  Constan frowned at this, “That’s a shame lass as I think we could use ladies like you in the 5th Parthica. Good health to ye, I’m late for a meeting.”

  Lilian curtsied, “Good health to you, sir.”

  Constan completed his journey to the Armory. He went straight to Saif’s office and met him there. They talked about all of the mundane things it took to keep the arsenal going and the progress they had made on weapons production. The conversation then turned to the men that the 5th Parthica had loaned to the armory to keep the forge fires burning hotly.

  “The men you gave me to tend the forges were a weak bunch, but already their strength grows,” Saif said.

  “What will become of them if ye keep using them to keep your hungry forges fed?” Constan asked.

  “The first week goes hard on a man, even a strong one. Then things slowly begin to improve. What was once hard becomes easier.”

  “The men grow stronger?”

  “Aye, my friend. Without fail they become mountains capable of out pulling an ox.”

  The room fell silent as Constan slipped into deep thought, What advantage could be gained by having men this strong?

  Constan pondered the answer to his question for several moments, “Thanks for the information, Saif. Your insights have proven to be quite enlightening.”

  Constan departed the Armory and walked toward the fort. As he walked, he thought about the advantages that having strong men would bring in their fight against the damned. At the same time his experience with Lilian tickled the back of his mind, is there an advantage there?

  Arriving at the fort Constan took the time to observe the six kentarchias out on the parade ground drilling. They had finished their physical fitness exercises and were in the midst of their marching practice. Constan spent an hour rolling around various ideas in his head as he watched the men. The two kentarchias of new draftees noticeably improved by the hour. The four original kentarchias of guardsmen turned Skutatoi looked sharp as they executed each maneuver with precision.

  As midday neared, he went back to his villa inside the fort. The sun glared down upon the courtyard making it extremely uncomfortable to hold a meeting. Saul, with his usual efficiency, already had his banquet hall set up for himself and his eight Kentarches. His seat was at the head of the long rectangle table made of oak. For his Kentarches, there were four places on each side of the table set. Another plate was set for Farid, his second in command, opposite Constan on the opposite side of the table.

  Constan sat down at the head of the table. He closed his eyes for several moments and let out his breath. Opening his eyes slowly he looked around the room. On the wall that he faced was a mosaic depicting the Ironman making his stand on that lonely bridge in Mesopotamia so long ago. On the walls to his left and right were banners that the 5th Parthica had used on various campaigns over the centuries.

  The banner that they fought under at Yarmouk would never adorn these walls. He couldn’t even recall the moment when they had lost it. Surely it was ground into the mud of that accursed field of battle where so many had fallen trying to hold back the tide of Satan’s evil.

  Constan pushed thoughts of that day out of his mind and returned to the present. The wine goblet in front of him was filled
to the brim. He held the goblet underneath his nose for several moments savoring the fruity smell of the rare vintage. He smiled, opened his mouth, and tipped the goblet so that the wine flowed straight down his throat. With hardly a taste the contents of the goblet disappeared. He sighed contentedly then swished the last bit of the wine over his tongue. The taste was tart with a hint of fruitiness.

  He turned to the servant attending him and asked, “From Bithynia?”

  The servant, Sada was her name, answered, “Yes, sir.”

  Constan smiled contentedly as he thought to himself, Getting pretty good at this and she remembered to not say m’lord!

  Saul, who had watched the entire exchange, added, “Don’t be too pleased with yourself Tourmarches. It’s no wonder you are getting good at knowing the vintages by taste. You’ve drunk more wine in a week than a mule could drink in a year.”

  Sada refilled his goblet from the pitcher she was holding. Constan smiled up at her and then held up his full goblet and said, “Much health.” He opened his mouth and drained the contents of the goblet in one gulp.

  Saul frowned, “Need I remind you of your meeting with the Kentarches? It’s usually a good idea to conduct business with the ability to form complete sentences. If you drink any more, your ability to do that will be in serious jeopardy.”

  Constan chuckled, “Ever the nanny, eh Saul?”

  Saul retorted, “Someone has to save you from yourself so that you can save us from the damned.” After a long pause, he added, “Sir.”

  Constan chuckled, “Aye. Perhaps you’re right.”

  Zahid chose that moment to enter the room. He saw Constan seated at the head of the table and scowled. Remembering himself, he softened his scowl into an expressionless mask and quietly sat at the seat to Constan’s right.

  Constan looked at Zahid and asked, “How goes the training of your men?”

  Zahid maintained his neutral expression and responded, “It goes well enough. The men are learning maneuvers to which they are unaccustomed.”

  “And yourself?” Constan asked with a skeptical tone to his voice.

  “I’m learning how to command the Kentarchia faster than any of your goat herders would.”

  “How’s your shoulder doing?”

  A flash of anger crossed Zahid’s face and he took a deep breath to respond when Athos walked into the room. Zahid turned, smiled, and said, “Greetings, Kentarches.”

  Athos returned the smile, surprised at the warm greeting from Zahid and responded, “Much health Kentarches.”

  Constan and Zahid watched as Athos crossed the room and chose the seat to Constan’s immediate left. The three engaged in small talk as the other six Kentarchia commanders arrived one by one and sat at the table. When everyone was present, Saul clapped his hands, and several servants brought out their lunch. Each man was given a plate with a roasted hare upon it.

  The smell of the meat permeated the room and made their mouth’s water. The group of officers turned to Constan and awaited permission to start. Constan smiled and said, “Attack.”

  Without another word from any of them, they began to eat. When Constan was satisfied that they were slowing down and their appetites sated he began, “Good afternoon. The reason I brought you here today is to get ye opinion on how to best defend Damascus from the damned given our current limitations. As you know, we presently have eight hundred men in various stages of training.”

  Constan took a sip of wine and continued, “We currently have enough arms to outfit exactly one Kentarchia. We are in a little better shape with armor. The three hundred and sixty former guardsmen have suits of leather armor. Leather armor, while not ideal in most instances, is adequate against the damned whose primary weapons are their teeth.”

  Constan paused and made eye contact with several of the men before continuing, “To defend all of the walls of Damascus, I estimate that we need closer to three thousand men. What steps can we take to protect the walls with the eight hundred and forty men we have?”

  The Kentarches looked at each other and Damon raised his hand, “Damon, speak. This is a discussion, so I expect everyone to share what their thoughts are.” Constan said.

  “Is it a guarantee that we will have to defend all of the walls of Damascus simultaneously? After all, Damascus is a large city.” Damon asked.

  Wisam, commander of the 4th Kentarchia, jumped into the conversation, “The eight hundred and forty we have are enough to defend one of the walls. If we have to defend more than one wall what steps could we take to multiply the effects of our manpower so that they can be stretched thinner?”

  Constan rubbed his eye patch, “During the Persian War, I witnessed many of me brothers being mowed down by the score from machines of war. These machines flung stones, giant spears, and even a hundred spears all at once. The machines were called artillery and were operated by specialists trained in their use.”

  Zahid snorted, “What guarantee is there that we will even need to defend a single wall against the damned? The walls of Damascus are strong. What chance do a group of unarmed savages have against them?”

  Jirair, the newly appointed commander of the 7th Kentarchia replied, “You were not at Yarmouk. Therefore you have no idea of the horrors that we will face. If you had seen them yourself, you’d shite yourself and flee.”

  Turning red Zahid leaped to his feet and snarled, “Are you calling me a coward?”

  “Aye, I’m calling you a coward you filthy robber of old ladies and the cripples!” Jirair said with a growl.

  “Enough! I didn’t bring you here today to spill blood. Jirair, you will apologize to Zahid.” Constan ordered.

  Shock flashed across Jirair’s facial features. He shook with anger at the rebuke, paused for several moments to bring himself back under control and asked, “You would have me apologize to the coward that tried to kill you?”

  In an instant, Zahid drew his Spatha and lunged across the table to get at Jirair. Athos grabbed Zahid to restrain him and Rufio, Kentarches of the 8th Kentarchia, grabbed Jirair’s arms from behind as he tried to draw his blade.

  Constan, glared at Jirair with a look of disgust on his face, “Ye defied my direct order. We are Ironmen, charged with the defense of Damascus, not a rabble. If I could afford to lose your knowledge and experience in battle, I would have you reduced back to a common Skutatoi. Since I do not have that luxury, you will be flogged for your crime.” He paused for a moment to let the penalty sink in and added, “By Zahid.”

  Zahid’s face broke into a smile. Athos let Zahid go, he sheathed his Spatha and asked, “In front of all the men?”

  Constan pondered for several moments and answered, “Aye. They need to learn the penalty for disobedience.”

  Jirair noticeably paled at this announcement. The grip on his Spatha loosened and Rufio took it from his hand. Defeated Jirair’s shoulders slumped, and he sat back down in his chair.

  “Ye are my eight Kentarches.” Constan nodded in Farid’s direction, “And my second in command. I need your thoughts and ideas. Not for you to fight amongst ye’selves. The men we are training need to know through learning and following our orders that they will have a chance against the damned. If they lose hope, then all of us will come to perish. Now if there will be no more interruptions let us continue our discussion.”

  “You mentioned machines that could kill damned by the score. Are there any engineers capable of making such machines here in Damascus?” Athos asked.

  Constan replied, “I know of no one still alive. Do any of you have a suggestion?”

  The eight men looked at each other with blank looks on their faces each hoping that the other would supply the answer to Constan’s question.

  Constan sighed deeply, “With no artillery we have to find more men somehow. Where can we get them?”

  The room fell silent once again. No one had an answer to the question. Athos looked back and forth at the men surrounding the table waiting for one of them to reply. When none of them d
id he reluctantly decided to voice his idea, “You said it yourself, sir, we do not have enough men. There is maybe another possible solution within the walls of Damascus.”

  Constan said, “Go on, lad. Share your thought.”

  Athos looked up at the ceiling and murmured a prayer that no one else could hear. Finally, he replied, “What if we trained the women to fight?”

  In an instant, Farid jumped to his feet and exclaimed, “Absolutely not! What chances are there of the damned coming here?” He snorted derisively and added, “Arming women to fight? That is madness, and I will have no part of it!”

  Constan ignored Farid’s outburst and pondered Athos’ idea. He remembered back to earlier in the day, what he had witnessed, and the words he had shared with Lilian. Finally, he said, “I think Athos’ idea has merit. I shall ask Governor Maurice if we can draft women.

  Farid still on his feet placed his hands on the table and leaned over it in Constan’s direction, “Surely you can’t be serious? Women, fighting? This is folly!”

  Zahid joined in the conversation, “Indeed, women are barely fit to lick our sandals much less fight alongside us!”

  Constan grinned at Farid, “Droungarios, we live in a world gone mad. Satan has brought the dead back to life, and they hunger for the flesh of the living. Each person that dies rises as one of the damned. We don’t have the luxury anymore of having so many untrained within our midst. If we are to survive everyone must fight!”

  Farid opened his mouth to form a reply as everyone else leaped to their feet, banged their fists on the table, and said, “Here, here!”

  Scarius, the Kentarches of the 3rd Kentarchia asked, “How can they fight? Most of them do not have the strength to lift a Spatha!”

  Constan replied, “True, most of them do not have enough strength to lift a Spatha. We must look to what they can do. Most women are much quicker than us men. They have to be. They live in a world where they are beaten by their husbands and fathers at a whim. A world where they could be seized at any moment by a stranger who wants to force himself upon them. How do they survive in such a world?”