Constan responded, “Someone must have died from their wounds and infected the rest of the city. Perhaps it was Hadad. He had been injured during the fight with Zahid, and two other men. He was carried to his home where it was said that his wife was giving birth to their first child. Whatever the cause, we awoke from our victory celebration at the Governor’s palace to the sounds of the damned overrunning the city. Somehow that unholy bitch Fonda had survived and was leading them against us.”
Emperor Heraclius stood and pointed his scepter at Constan and Athos, “Your words have given us much to consider. After hearing from my advisors, I will decide on the sentence that you will face for the charges that have been leveled against you. Guards, escort these two back to there waiting room.” His flat passionless words struck a nerve and created a cord of fear within the two men. The accused men glanced at each other. The look they gave each other conveyed a wide range of emotions, but the one that was most evident in the pools of their irises was fear.
Vitalis turned and whispered to them, “Prostrate yourselves and then go.”
Constan and Athos prostrated themselves to the Emperor. They each left a small puddle of moisture when their forehead touched the cold stone of the floor. When the two men stood, they found themselves flanked by four guards. Their left arms were grasped by two of their armored escorts and they were led out of the throne room. The trip back to their waiting room was a blur as both of the men were deep in thought. As their footfalls echoed off the walls, they reviewed the audience with the Emperor in their minds. Both men agonized over each moment trying to gain a hint as to what their fate would be.
Upon arrival into the opulent waiting room Athos turned to Constan and asked, “What just happened? We aren’t guilty of any of those crimes.”
Constan took a deep breath and said, “Politics lad, Politics.”
Athos frowned, “How is that going to affect us? Are we going to be executed to cover up the guilt of another?”
Constan collapsed onto one of the three couches in the room and poured himself a cup of wine. Downing it in one gulp he looked up at Athos and said, “I know not what our sentence will be. It seems as if the General has spread lies about us to save his own yellow skin.”
Athos’ shoulders slumped at Constan’s words, “The Emperor seemed to like some of the innovations that we used in the defense of Damascus.”
Constan nodded, “Aye, but we were unable to deliver a single one of those innovations to him here today. I think that fact will weigh against us, as we had only words in our defense. If we had one of the crossbows or some of that black tarry liquid the Persians gave us, then we would have a much better chance. Right now, the General is probably trying to twist our words to save his own neck.
Silence fell between the two men. They sat in the room for hours, seemingly forgotten. Constan, who could sleep through a pitched battle raging around him, quickly fell asleep. His loud snores reverberated off the stone walls of the chamber. Too anxious to sleep, Athos continued sipping on wine as his thoughts turned inward. He reviewed all that had happened in the last few months. Despite the possibility of his own life ending, one thought in particular kept surfacing over and over, Would Athea have fallen in love with me if not for the damned?
Athos pondered this question for a time, as sweat slowly trickled down his back from the heat of the day. Other thoughts flashed through his mind, Could Nikas’ fate have been averted? Was there anything we could have done differently to save Damascus? Hours passed as he reviewed the Battle of Yarmuk in his head, and the furious hours of fighting for survival as the damned closed in around them at Governor Maurice’s palace in Damascus.
Sighing deeply Athos came to the same conclusion for both events, It was beyond my power to effect either of these outcomes. The only thing within my power to do was fight to preserve those that I hold dear. In that, especially in Damascus, I did all that I could.
Constan began muttering in his sleep. Athos looked over at the older man as he barked orders for the battle taking place his in dreams. He’s probably just as much a prisoner of his thoughts as I am in this moment. As the one-eyed man’s mutterings ended, he rolled over onto his left side, engaged in a bout of flatulence that would have shaken the walls in any building save an imperial palace, and resumed his loud snoring. Lulled by the heat of the day and the effects of the wine he had been drinking, Athos at last surrendered to the tender embrace of slumber.
Chapter 51
Evening, October 10th 636, Antioch, Syria Province, Byzantium
Judgement
Athos awoke with a start as the door to the ornate holding chamber swung open. Vitalis flanked by two guards, stood in the doorway. He opened his mouth to speak, the space at the top of his nose, in-between his two eyes crinkled for a moment as the air in the room washed over him. His nose visibly twitched for a moment before he quickly recovered, “The Emperor is ready to pass judgement upon you. Follow me.”
Athos glanced over at Constan who had come instantly awake at the first sound of movement in the room and stood up, It’s amazing how quickly the old man can go from a deep slumber to awareness. Athos thought to himself as he stood. He glanced up at the windows set near the ceiling and saw a pail silvery shaft shining through one of the openings.
Vitalis recognizing Athos’ look of confusion said, “It’s early evening. Come, you are holding up the Emperor’s dinner.”
The reminder of food made Athos painfully aware of the emptiness in his own gut. His stomach made its presence known with an audible gurgle. We haven’t eaten all day. He paused for a moment and rubbed his forehead. It felt like a little faire was beating on the inside of his head with a hammer. And had too much to drink. He thought to himself. Standing, he turned and followed Constan out of the chamber into the broad hallway. As they walked back to the throne room, Athos noted that the passageway looked a lot different in the darkness.
Light flickered from the many brass braziers that were absent earlier in the day. They lined the walls on both sides at six-foot intervals. It must have taken an army of servants to set these all up and light them, Athos thought to himself. The pale flickering light they cast enshrouded the mosaics and tapestries, in shadows. In the soft uneven light, they somehow seemed sinister in appearance.
As the pair neared the imposing set of brass plated double doors at the end of the long hallway, both men began to sweat. Are these the the final moments of my life? Athos thought to himself.
He glanced over at Constan. The light from the braziers reflected off of the predominantly gray hairs on his head while at the same time the black ones seemed to absorb the light. This sharp contrast in how his salt and pepper colored hair reflected the light created a mystical look of shifting colors that enshrouded his head. Why am I so focused on how the light is playing off the old man’s head, and not on the fact that the Emperor is probably going to put me to death?
The old man turned his head slightly so that his single eye met Athos’ and he smiled reassuringly at the younger man. I hope this isn’t the end for the poor lad. He has come so far in such a short time and is just beginning to realize his potential as a man. Constan thought to himself.
As the group reached the double doors, they were opened instantly before them. Beyond the threshold, the Emperor’s throne room was brightly lit from the light of hundreds of candles. Three large chandeliers that the pair hadn’t noticed earlier in the daylight held dozens of candles. They consisted of three large brass circlets each. Each circlet was successively smaller as they drew closer to the ceiling.
Lining each of the three walls in front of them was a ledge that held hundreds of candles. Each of the candles on the ledge was in a brass candleholder. The candleholders were spaced every six inches. The combined effect of thousands of candles and the light reflecting off the brass created a room as brightly lit as if the sun itself was shining through the windows at its zenith.
As they entered the chamber everyone in their group, sav
e the guards that stood watch over them, prostrated themselves to Emperor Heraclius. As he fell to his knees, Athos enjoyed the touch of the cool marble surface on his forehead. He stole a glance at Constan to his right, but couldn’t make eye contact because of the eye patch that obscured his left eye, or whatever was left of the eye beneath it from sight. I wonder what is going on in that head of his? The old man must have read something earlier. He seemed too level headed about all this. Athos thought to himself.
Emperor Heraclius’ deep baritone voice boomed over the chamber, “The accused may rise and approach.”
The two men did as they were bade and moved toward the Emperor’s throne. They both fought down the temptation to raise their eyes and gaze upon the man’s face. Both men wanted to look upon the face that would determine the direction of their lives for some hint of what that direction might be. Violating this simple protocol could bring on the very fate that they were trying to avoid. The risk of death for a stolen glimpse was simply too great. Though it was one of the hardest moments of their lives, they both managed to keep their eyes carefully fixed on the floor in front of them as they approached.
As Constan and Athos reached the same position that they had stood upon that morning, the Emperor voice once again filled the room, “You stand accused before this court of two crimes, cowardice at the Battle of Yarmuk, and for losing the City of Damascus to the damned. You both may meet my gaze as I pronounce judgement upon thee.”
Athos and Constan did as they were bade by the Emperor and looked up to meet his gaze. The older man’s steely stare and expressionless face sent a shiver down both of their spines. The only thing they could read, was that the Emperor’s mouth had the faintest hint of an upturn at the edge of his lips.
Athos took the opportunity that the Emperor’s command afforded to steal a quick glance around the room in front of him. General Vahan stood in the same position that he had earlier. As Athos’ eyes fell upon the General, he met Athos’ gaze and smiled smugly at him. Once again, this bastard has left us in the lurch. Athos thought to himself.
The Emperor caught Athos’ stolen glance at General Vahan and grinned. As he spoke, he gave the General a quick sidelong glance, “For the crime of cowardice at the Battle of Yarmuk I find Tourmarches Constan and Kentarches Athos, not guilty. At the time you were a Dekanos and a common Skutatoi. By all accounts, as members of the 2nd Kentarchia of the 5th Parthica, you were led well and fought bravely. If you had done otherwise you would not be standing here in front of us today.”
The Emperor paused and looked around the room to see if any members of the court would object to his findings. Several pairs of eyes settled on General Vahan expecting him to raise an objection, as this pronouncement of innocence meant the General was cast in a bad light.
Emperor Heraclius turned on his throne and faced the General. Vahan, nervously returned the Emperor’s gaze as a bead of sweat slowly made its way down his forehead. The Emperor smiled at General Vahan and said, “I believe it was you who panicked at the Battle of Yarmuk Vahan. You allowed the entire Syrian Thema to be destroyed as you looked on locked in indecision. At least until you came to the decision that you seem to come to all too frequently, and ran.”
The Emperor paused, pointed at Constan and Athos and continued, “Coming to that decision, you then left what little remained of the Syrian Thema. Their lives were sacrificed to help cover your own cowardly withdrawal from the field later in the battle. For these crimes alone, I would see you put to death. Unfortunately, in addition to your failure at Yarmuk, you failed to learn from your earlier mistake and continued your cowardice. In the process you lost the cities of Tyre, Heliopolis, and Emessa in turn to the damned.”
General Vahan opened his mouth to speak, but before he had an opportunity Emperor Heraclius stood up and faced him. He motioned with his hands to two nearby guards. The pair of hulking brutes, armored from head to toe, advance to either side of the General. Each placed a hand on his shoulders. The Emperor’s face twisted into rage as he said, “For these crimes you, and all who forced my hand in appointing you, will die this night. Guards, execute him!”
A collective gasp went up in the room as the two guards flanking the General, used their grip on his shoulders to push him to his knees. General Vahan’s eyes fell on the other members of the court as they returned his horrified gaze. They collectively held their breaths wondering what was next to come.
As the General’s knees touched the floor a figure emerged from a nearby shadow. The individual appeared to be a large man in a black hooded robe. He brandished a large scythe that he swung at the back of the General’s exposed neck. With expert precision born of many years practice the robed man’s razor-sharp blade bit into the General’s neck. The blade cleaved through both skin and bone as if it was soft butter.
The motion happened so quickly that it wasn’t readily apparent that the General’s head had been severed. After a long moment the head finally surrendered to gravity and bounced down the stairs of the platform. As the head departed from the body, blood erupted spraying the two guards that held what was left of him.
The severed head reached the bottom of the stairs, rolled, and came to rest against Constan’s right foot. The one-eyed man glanced into the General’s unseeing eyes and couldn’t help but to smile, Ye got what ye deserved ye bastard. May ye forever rot in hell for the death of me boys.
Simultaneously several of the guards that lined the chamber walls drew their Spathas and thrust them into the guts of several of the court members. Shocked at the unexpected attack, many staggered and fell to their knees while trying to hold their insides in. As they did so, many looked up at the Emperor.
The Emperor returned their shocked gazes with a sinister smile and said, “The Empire cannot afford your political machinations any longer. Since all of you forced my hand in appointing General Vahan, you will suffer his fate.”
The guards who had delivered the gut stabs to the nobles, their Spatha’s still dripping in blood, took a step back from their victims. They watched coldly as their victims quickly bled out onto the white marble floor. The surviving members of Emperor Heraclius court looked on in horror, covered in the blood that sprayed from the dying.
Satisfied that justice had been meted out, the Emperor turned his gaze back to Athos and Constan, “For the charge of losing my City of Damascus I find you Tourmarches Constan, and you Kentarches Athos, guilty as charged.”
Emperor Heraclius opened his mouth to pronounce judgement. He was interrupted by a series of screams that came from behind Constan and Athos. The two men, acting on reflex, leapt to their feet and whirled around. The scene they beheld made their stomach’s turn. The executed members of the Emperor’s court had risen and now feasted upon the survivors as the guards looked on in stunned silence.
As the flesh of the now dying members of the Emperor’s court slid down the gullet of the newly damned. Constan barked gruffly to snap the guards out of their catatonic state, “Well don’t just stand there and wait for ye turn at the bloody buffet. Draw ye swords and kill the bastards!”
Constan’s admonishment worked. The guards snapped out of their stupor and drew their Spathas. As they took a step forward to engage the damned, the creatures paused from their feeding and noticed them for the first time, living flesh. The damned, moaned as they stood, anticipating the taste of fresh living flesh. They were quickly joined by their former meals as they lunged for the guards, intent on feasting on their skin, muscles, and entrails.
Several of the guards were able to deliver blows to their opponent’s head as the hungry mob lunged forward. Many more attacked as if they faced a human foe, plunging their Spathas deep into the damned’s guts. These guards, much to their horror, quickly discovered that such a blow had no effect on their unholy opponents.
Two of the newly damned noticed Constan and Athos and ran at them, “What do we do?” Athos asked.
“Try not to get bit.” Constan replied.
“Obv
iously. How do we accomplish that without weapons, or armor?” Athos asked.
“Let’s do the hi/low trick.” Constan suggested.
Athos took a step forward and fell to his hands and knees. This had the effect of dropping Athos out of the charging damned’s field of vision. The overweight man, wore a scarlet silken robe that helped to disguise the fact that he was covered in blood from his execution and subsequent victims. The dim mind controlling the fat man registered more living fresh in front of him, Constan. The minion of Satan snarled and bared its teeth as it continued running toward Constan, oblivious to the now out of sight Athos.
A few feet before reaching Constan the fat damned’s foot caught on Athos and he toppled forward overtop of the crouching man. The formerly living noble’s head struck the marble floor with a dull splat. Before the creature could recover Constan smashed his sandaled foot down on the back of its head. The sound of breaking bone filled the chamber as Constan’s foot broke through the skull and slid into the soft brain tissue below.
The second damned, slammed into Athos. This one, thanks to an athletic build, had a much longer stride as it ran toward Constan. The creature, hit Athos in mid-stride catching its right foot on his ribs. The breath was knocked from Athos as this damned toppled forward and landed squarely on the fat corpse of Constan’s first kill.
Thanks to its overweight cushion, it recovered quickly and reached out for Constan’s foot as the one-eyed warrior tried to bring it down upon its snarling head. Still gasping for air, Athos saw the danger to Constan and wrapped his fingers around both of the damned’s ankles. He succeeded and pulled hard. The damned’s fingers brushed Constan’s leg and then was yanked violently back by Athos.
Constan, surprised by Athos’ intervention, looked up to see a third damned, charging toward the younger man’s back. He looked around desperately for a weapon to intervene. His eye’s fell on General Vahan’s corpse. Bounding up the stairs of the Imperial Dais, he grabbed the General’s ornate sword from its scabbard and turned and yelled, “Athos drop!”
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