Byzantium Infected Box Set

by James Mullins

  Constan patiently sat and waited. As the air around him became filled with the whispered conversations from the three couples, he finally decided that they had, had long enough. Clearing his throat, he said, “Good Morning.”

  The whispered conversations stopped and no one replied, “I know ye are all awake so stop pretending. Half the day is gone already. I don’t know about ye sluggards, but I just as soon not travel in the dark with the damned lurking about.”

  Athos sat up and asked, “What are your orders sir?”

  Constan sighed, Still in bloody charge it seems. So be it. “We spend the rest of the day gathering oranges for our journey, and fashioning the means to carry them in numbers. Along with some water.”

  The heads around the room nodded in agreement at Constan’s plan. Athos then asked, “Then what?”

  “Then we bed down for the night and set off on the ‘morrow.”

  At some point during the conversation Damon had woken up and sat up beside Constan. His stomach rumbled audibly and he said, “Great, let’s go break our fast.”

  The eight of them streamed out of the mud brick hut. As their eyes adjusted to the bright fall sunlight, they looked around the village. The huts consisted of bricks that had been fashioned from mud at the banks of the Barada River. They were a slightly darker tan color than the parched sandy soil that didn’t have the benefit of nearby water. As they moved into the orchard, they saw row upon row of orange trees. In between each row of orange trees was a ditch that was connected to the river and separated from the Barada with a sluice gate.

  Athos let out a low whistle, “Me and my brother Kristopher tried to build an irrigation system like this to save our crop during the last season I lived with my parents in Armenia. We tried to dig a series of trenches in-between each of the rows we planted, and separate them from the water using a sluice gate like these.” He pointed to the square wooden doors that were in place. They separated the river from the ditches, thus blocking the water from flowing into each ditch. Well at least more than the current trickle around the edges.

  Athos positioned himself to stand over a sluice gate. Each foot rested on opposite banks of the ditch. He bent down, and grasped the sluice gate with both hands. He then slowly pulled it up. As the water flowed into the irrigation ditch, he said, “The fall rains must have been just enough to raise the level of the river above the sluice gates. Otherwise these trees would have died in the time since the patrol came out here to pick the oranges.”

  Damon smiled, “Lucky for us, the rains were plentiful this year.”

  Constan nodded, “Aye, at least something has gone our way this month.”

  Maarika walked up behind Constan and put her hand on his left shoulder, “Do not despair. You’ve led us this far. It’s a miracle we still all draw breath and don’t crave the flesh of the living. Take heart in that fact.”

  Constan turned and smiled at Maarika, “Baltazar was correct.”

  Maarika looked puzzled by the statement, “About?”

  “You truly are an angel.”

  Maarika smiled at the compliment as Nasir cleared his throat loudly, walked up beside Maarika and placed his arm around her waist. Maarika turned to him and said, “No worries love, Constan has no ill intention towards me. Isn’t that so?”

  “Ney lass. Though she is lost to me, my heart belongs to another.”

  The group drifted apart and they worked to pick all of the ripened oranges. By mid-afternoon each of the rows of orange trees had a pile of picked oranges at the head of it. They returned to the mud-brick huts and searched. Nasir noticed a ramshackle shed made of faded and pitted wood at the edge of the village. They had somehow missed the shed in the darkness the previous night.

  Entering the shed, they found several large sacks fashioned from burlap that must have been used by the residents of Tarma to gather and transport the oranges. Constan, ignored the burlap sacks, and ran to the far wall where he grasped several leather bags hanging by pull cords, “Finally a stroke of luck. They’ve left us several water skins.”

  They took the sacks and water skins. Constan turned to the group and said, “Athos, Baltazar, Liana, and Athea. Take these skins and fill them using the water from the well. Damon, Maarika, Nasir, and myself will work on gathering the oranges and getting them into these sacks.”

  Everyone murmured their agreement to Constan’s assigned division of labor and set about their tasks. Within the hour they had all gathered back in the hut that they had spent the previous night in. Dinner once more consisted of oranges.

  They engaged in light conversation as they ate their fill of the juicy sweet tasting fruit. The sounds of chewing permeated the room whenever someone was not speaking. They conversed for a time, but as night fell, Maarika and Nasir slipped away. They were soon followed by Baltazar and Liana.

  Athos turned to Athea, held his hand out to her and asked, “Care to join me for a walk?”

  Athea, smiled up at Athos, placed her hand in his, and replied, “Certainly.”

  As the two emerged onto the single street of Tarma, Athos remarked, “Walking with you feels strange, without feeding Buttons first.”

  Athea sighed deeply and said, “I hope she survived.”

  Athos squeezed her hand in reassurance and said, “Buttons is a very smart cat. I’m sure she’s got the damned tripping over each other in a fruitless attempt to eat her.”

  Athea smiled up at Athos and pulled him closer. Arm in arm, the two walked in silence for several minutes. As they reached the end of the street, they unconsciously drifted toward the sound of the Barada River. The river’s slow-moving waters could be heard gently lapping up against the banks. As the couple came to the edge they paused and looked at the waters. The silver light of the moon sparkled as it reflected off of the river. They stood in silence for several minutes mesmerized by the effect as they gazed into the waters.

  Athos turned to face Athea, and took a step toward her. Their gaze met as she looked up at him expectantly. They paused for several awkward moments and then smiled at each other. Finally, Athos’ dipped his head toward hers and brushed her lips with his. Athea’s responded hungrily to the touch and drew him in for a kiss. As their tongues became intertwined, Athea’s hands came to rest on Athos’ neck. They embraced for over a minute as they explored each other’s mouth with their tongues. She tastes so good. I’ve missed this.

  Athos ended the long kiss, but continued to hold Athea in an embrace. They both spent several moments catching their breath. Athea then said, “Remember the first place you did that?”

  Athos smiled, “On top of the tower in Damascus, as we looked out into the desert.”

  Athea nodded, “It seems like so long ago.”

  Athos chuckled, “I know what you mean. It’s felt like forever since that night, but it’s not even been two months.”

  Athea pulled him into another kiss. As their tongues entwined once again, Athos became distinctly aware of his expanding crotch. Athea broke the embrace and reached out with her left hand toward Athos. She located the growing bulge in his nether region and rubbed her hand against it.

  Athos drew a short breath in sharply at the touch. As she continued, he let out a low moan at the feel of her hand caressing his manhood through both his trousers and small clothes. Athea turned to walk away, took a step, turned her head, and looked back over her left shoulder. As she did so, she extended her hand toward Athos and said, “Care to join me?”

  Athos smiled and took her hand. Did she just proposition me?

  Athea led Athos to the nearest hut. As the couple entered it, Constan took a long drink from his wineskin and thought, Good for you lad, it’s about time you two found some happiness with each other.

  Chapter 45

  Morning, October 1st 636, Village of Tarma, Syria Province, Byzantium

  To Heliopolis

  The next morning Constan and Damon awoke in the hut that everyone had slept in the night before. The pair of men looked around at th
e empty dwelling’s Spartan interior. Damon smiled and said, “Guess some folks got lucky last night.”

  Constan picked up his wineskin, drank the last few drops, nodded, and said, “Aye.”

  Damon’s face morphed into a confused expression, “Where did you manage to find wine? And most importantly, why didn’t you share?”

  Constan chuckled, “Lad, I have my ways. Ye should know that by now. How do ye expect me to get drunk off of just one wineskin, if I had to share it with ye?

  Damon gave Constan a glum look and said, “A fine commander you are. Shouldn’t your troops get the available resources first? You know, so we can fight better.” Damon smiled showing a row of perfect white teeth, and then added, “You’re buying the first round when we get back to civilization.”

  Constan scoffed, “After having to smell ye arse for two nights in a row, it is ye, who will be buying the first round.”

  Damon burst into laughter as Baltazar and Liana entered the hut.

  “What’s so amusing Damon?” Baltazar asked.

  “Constan doesn’t want to buy the first round, even after he was selfish and didn’t share his wineskin,” Damon replied.

  Baltazar turned his gaze to Constan and asked, “Is this true sir?”

  Constan smiled as he responded, “Aye. There wasn’t enough to get two drunk. Besides I had to smell his arse all night, while ye two were off cavorting with each other.”

  Liana blushed at this statement. Baltazar turned to Damon and asked, “Oranges give you gas?”

  Chuckling Damon responded, “Haven’t you figured it out by now? Breathing gives me gas.”

  The hut was filled with the sound of ringing steel as Constan drew his Spatha. He waved the blade at Damon and said, “Well I can bloody well fix ye need to breathe!”

  Everyone in the room froze and looked at the ridiculous sight of Constan brandishing his Spatha at Damon. As soon as Constan completed his threat he got the weapon stuck in the low hanging thatch roof of the dwelling. Damon smiled at Constan. Constan, not able to help himself, grinned at Damon while trying to tug his Spatha out of the ceiling. Suddenly, all four of them burst into laughter. After recovering from the moment, they made their way outside. They found the other two couples gazing at them curiously.

  “What was all the mirth about?” Athos asked.

  Constan, with a neutral expression responded, “The usual lad, Damon’s arse, and its inability to remain silent.”

  Athos, now trying to hide his own amusement, but not quite succeeding, responded with an obviously forced deadpan tone, “I see.”

  Nasir, not wanting to waste any more time on this topic, turned to Constan and asked, “What’s the plan for today sir?”

  “I’m not a bloody sir!” Constan responded gruffly.

  Nasir automatically stiffened to attention and responded, “You are a Tourmarches. I am a mere Dekanos. To me you are a sir, Sir.”

  Constan shook his head from left to right in disagreement at Nasir’s statement, “Not anymore, I’m just plain Constan now.”

  Nasir grinned at Constan, “Well just plain Constan, since you know this area.” Nasir gestured at the rest of the group, “Better than any of us, you should be in charge.”

  Constan narrowed his eyes, took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. As he did so, his forehead took on a scarlet hue. Meeting Nasir’s smiling visage he responded with a gruff, “Fine.”

  Constan turned his back on the rest of them and strode ten steps away from the group. He stared down the dusty road that led out of Tarma toward Damascus. I hate being in charge, but the bloody Arab is right. Someone has to be, and I know this area the best.

  Constan turned back toward the group and said, “Gather ye things, the water skins, and the oranges. We are going to wade the river and make our way around Damascus to the Heliopolis Road. It’s a north and south running road that will take us to in the direction that we want to go. With so many of those unholy beasties infesting Damascus, I don’t want to get within sight of the town and risk a damned encounter.”

  Everyone did as Constan bade. While the rest of the group focused on the tasks needing to be done to depart. Constan leaned up against the nearest mudbrick hut with his back. He slowly let himself sink to the ground until he sat in the dirt with his knees nearly touching his chin. He withdrew into himself for several moments and felt the warmth of the sun on his skin. Where am I going to gather the strength from to lead again? I gave all that I had in Damascus and it wasn’t enough.

  As Constan struggled with his inner thoughts. The sunlight he was basking in suddenly disappeared. Curious he looked up to see that a shapely form blocked it. Unable to tell who it was because of the light shining in his eyes Constan said, “Leave me alone I need a moment.”

  Ignoring Constan’s request Maarika replied, “It’s not your fault.”

  Constan snorted at the words, “Of course it’s my fault. I was in charge of the defense of the city.”

  “Defend the city you did. Against hopeless odds. You should be proud of what you were able to accomplish with so little.”

  Constan smiled up at Maarika, “Aye, ‘twas a well-executed plan. The putrid buggers didn’t know what hit them. Despite their numbers we sent that bitch Fonda packing, but then…” Constan’s voice trailed off and his lower lip started to quiver as he fought back tears.

  Maarika squatted in front of Constan and placed her hands on his shoulders, “Then a fluke happened and somehow the infection got lose in the city. Despite the fact that the few surviving defenders were exhausted and overwhelmed you managed to lead us to safety. Again, against hopeless odds.”

  “Aye, but-”

  Maarika interrupted Constan before he could finish, “No buts. Again, you triumphed over hopeless odds. The fact that anyone could survive being surrounded like we were by thousands of the hungry, is a miracle.” Maarika placed a finger under Constan’s chin and forced him to look into her eyes. “I don’t know about you, but I’d feel better knowing the miracle worker was in charge.”

  The left edge of Constan’s lips curved slightly upward causing the scar on his face to crinkle a bit, “Thanks lass. I guess I needed to hear that. I can see why Nasir loves ye, so deeply.”

  “You two have much in common. You have lots of experience and know what it is to lose those that looked up to you. Being a solider is hard. Being a leader of those soldiers, and having to lead the thing you created, cherished, and nurtured to its own destruction is harder still.”

  The edges of Constan’s lips turned upward a bit more and he said, “Aye, indeed it is.”

  Constan stood, looked down at Maarika, and smiled, “Thanks lass.”

  Maarika smiled up at him, winked and walked away. Constan took a few deep breaths, admired Maarika’s shapely posterior as she left, and thought to himself, Nasir is a lucky bastard. I think I could fall in love with a woman such as she. For the first time in many years, Constan’s thoughts about the fairer sex were not interrupted with pangs of regret about Amata.

  Ready to go, the group gathered around Tarma’s well. Constan met them there and led them out of the village. They followed the Barada River for a time until they reached a shallow point where they could ford it. They walked into the waist high water and slowly made their way across the slow-moving brown waters.

  As they crossed, the water gave them a slight chill. They emerged onto the north bank of the river and continued to follow the waterway to the west back toward Damascus. The terrain immediately surrounding the river consisted of green grass, and the occasional palm tree swaying lazily in the fall breeze. There was no sign of the damned.

  About thirty minutes into their walk along the north bank, Constan brought them to a halt. He pointed to a low rise in front of them, and said, “If we crest yonder rise, we will be visible from Damascus which lay about a mile beyond.” He then pointed to a slight depression in the land that ran in a northerly direction toward a distant range of mountains. Constan pointed at the mount
ains with his index finger extended and said, “Let’s follow this depression toward those distant mountains. Once we reach them, we can follow them to the west until we cross the Heliopolis Road.”

  As they left the environs of the Barada River, the terrain quickly turned into the parched soil common in Syria. The sandy and hard earth had a scattering of rocks upon it as far as the eye could see. This vista was occasionally interrupted by the infrequent larger rock, some of which were the size of three men. These larger rocks were generally a reddish brown in coloration.

  Constan’s motley crew quickly became lost in their own thoughts as they journeyed northward. Hardly a word was spoken between them. The Sun climbed into the cloudless blue sky above them, but the temperature did not rise to the stifling levels characteristic of a Syrian summer. They encountered no one, alive or dead during their journey that day.

  They bedded down for the night in a roughly circular shaped depression surrounded by several large stones that helped to obscure their camp. As they sat down to a meal which consisted of a few mouthfuls of precious water, and oranges hardly a word was muttered between them. The stark nature of the land in combination with Constan’s dark mood had seemingly cast a pall on the group. That night, they each took a turn at the watch, as the others slept fitfully on the hard earth.

  Waking the next day, they broke their fast with oranges. Damon, tiring of the taste of the fruit, made a sour face as he ate and said, “I can’t wait until we reach civilization again and get to eat something besides oranges.”

  Baltazar, still quite emaciated in appearance from his ordeal in the dungeon, frowned and said, “Better this than nothing at all. After weeks of going without, oranges are just fine. In fact, better than fine. They are absolutely delicious.”

  Damon glanced at Baltazar, and was wracked with feelings of guilt, “Baltazar, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply that I was ungrateful for the food.”