by Smith, Skye
In desperation now, armoured men were jumping out of the flagship in hopes that they could stay afloat for the four or five swimming strokes that would take them within arms reach to grasp of the oars of Bohemond's new flagship, so that they could be pulled in towards that ship and saved. Not one made it more than two strokes before their heads were pulled under the sea by the weight of their armour.
There was no other Norman longship close by to rescue the men on the ship grappled to the other side of Selvo's flagship. They had resigned, and were now lobbing their shields, armour, and weapons up to the seamen of the galley, always under the threat of a dozen arrow penalty for any act of aggression.
The rigger's mate looked across at Raynar from his post beside the mast and shrugged his shoulders. Raynar pantomimed a nail and hammer until the mate understood, and disappeared to find a shipwright and his tools to board the sinking longship and plug the hole.
There was nothing more for Selvo and Raynar to do. The captain was organizing the mop up, and the prize crews that would take the newest two ships of the Venetian fleet back to the Venice arsenal to be refit as outrigged galleys. Until that was done, and the longships ungrappled, this galley was not going anywhere.
They scanned the seas to see what else was happening. The longship now carrying Bohemond was being chased by a galley. At first their course was back to the entrance to the port, especially since now the Normans had sent out all of their smaller ships to help their longships. From the hill of the point, and from the closest beach, the massive army would have been watching this sea battle, and would know that it was going badly for them.
Unexplainably, Bohemond's ship now changed course, away from the entrance to the port and towards the closest beach. Selvo and Raynar both strained their eyes, but it was Flint's eagle eyes that first saw the reason. The rest of Selvo's fleet, the small ships that had been sent away into the fog this morning, were chasing the small Norman ships this way, away from their own port.
They must have seen that the galley's did not need their help and must have gone to block the port. The Norman ships must have left the port before they could block the mouth, and now the Venetians were chasing the Normans directly towards Bohemond.
All that Bohemond could do to escape capture was to run his ship up on the beach, where he could be protected by the army who had gathered there to watch the sea battle. By noon, a dozen smaller ships were also on the beach beside the longship. Every other ship that had sailed from port that morning was now crewed by Venetians.
By early afternoon, the captains and crews of the Venetian fleet had been reorganized. The captains and mates that had won the battle were given fresh crews from the ships that saw little or no fighting. Those ships now departed to run south along the coast to the other Illyrian port of Avalona, where the Normans had originally landed. Their mission was to capture or sink all shipping, but not engage the army. Once that was done they were to cross the straits towards Otranto, Brindisi, and Bari and capture or sink any Norman ship they met.
The trading galleys unloaded their extra warriors onto the war galleys, and went with the galleys which were now sailing south. They would help them to clear Avalona of ships, and once that was done, make a course into the Mediterranean to restart their long delayed trading missions to Egypt.
The dead, the injured, the tired and the weak were given the prize ships to take back to Venice. The relatively few Norman prisoners were loaded into the holds of two galleys and were taken to be marooned on an island well to the north until decisions could be made about them. A small island far from any other, with a little water and little else.
Dyrrhachium harbour was blocked by the smaller and more agile of the Venetian ships. The only Norman ships of any size left in the harbour were about forty fat and ugly barges, that must have been used to carry the Norman war horses to this coast.
Selvo, and the quarter of his fleet that were still with him, rested and waited to see what the Normans would do next, and waited to hear back from the fleet that had been sent south. The best news possible would be that the Strait of Otranto was now completely controlled by the Venetians. Selvo, for the first time in four days, slept and relaxed.
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The Hoodsman - Popes and Emperors by Skye Smith
Chapter 14 - Stranding the Normans at Dyrrhachium in July 1081
On the second day after the sea battle, three Byzantine galleys arrived. The flag ship was the same galley that had visited Venice two months before. They had obviously been ordered to hide out of harms way until the outcome was known. Now they wanted to be on hand for the sharing of the spoils.
The Byzantine captain, was the same who had sailed her intto the Arsenal. All of the Selvo's captains, including Raynar were invited to come aboard the huge Byzantine galley to discuss what to do next. Once the Byzantine galley was rafted to Selvo's flagship, it was very evident how large the ship was. It had an additional deck a full man's height above the outrigger deck of the Venetian galley, and it was at least ten paces longer at the waterline.
Never having been on a ship so large, Raynar asked for and was granted, permission to explore the ship. It was a very large version of a Venetian galley with two notable distinctions. The bow had a battle deck which included a boarding bridge, like a nose extending forward, and a large catapult siege engine. The rowing deck was the lower of the two outrigged decks, and the oars were so long and heavy that three oarsmen rowed each oar. Unlike the Venetian citizens who rowed Venetian galleys, these oarsmen were galley slaves and were chained to their posts.
The stench below decks was horrendous, so Raynar spent little time there other than to look for any slave who might be from the North Sea. If he had found any, he would have spoken to them, and then perhaps have bought them to free them. There were none. The slave master told him that the slaves were from many places, but were made up not from captives of wars but captives of rebellions. He hinted that the Byzantine Empire was so huge that there was always a rebellion somewhere, and so there was always a goodly supply of galley slaves.
With great relief and great gulps of fresh air, Raynar emerged again on the upper deck. His next stop was the catapult. He spoke to the siege mate who was standing on the boarding bridge looking towards the harbour mouth.
"It's difficult enough," Raynar said as an opening, "to aim an arrow from a ship. You must be hugely skilled to aim a catapult."
The half hidden complement half warmed the man to him. "It is for close range work only, like you use your arrows, bowman."
"So, ballast stones to make holes in hulls."
"Those and of course, Greek Fire."
"What is Greek Fire?" Raynar asked, and was given a stare from all the crew around as if he had sprouted a tail from his ass.
"You're not Venetian then. They have been pleading with the Empire for two generations for us to share the secret of it with them. No chance of that. We've kept that secret within Constantinople’s armoury for two hundred years now."
"I am new to Venice, and have never been to the Byzantine Empire."
"What do you call that then," the mate sneered, pointing to the coast line of Illyria.
"But I have never stepped ashore. So what is this Greek fire?"
The mate waved across the ship to gain the attention of the skipper, and the skipper nodded to him. He then made gestures as if asking permission for something, and once it was given, he ordered his helper to go and fetch a jug. Raynar thought he meant a jug of wine or ale to share, but the helper soon returned with two others carrying a heavy sealed pot made of fired clay fitted inside a heavy net.
"It's what’s inside that jug that is secret," told the mate. "We coat it in pitch and rags and then load it into this catapult, and then set fire to it, and loose it. When it hits something, the burning tar and rags stick, and the pot shatters, and what is inside the pot feeds the fire."
"That is simple and effective," replied Raynar. "I suppose
inside the jug is something that burns easily, so that is why it is sealed in a jug, so that there are no accidents when shipping it."
"Actually, what is inside doesn't burn. What it does is make other things burn. That is why it is so dangerous. And yes, that is why we keep it sealed in a jug."
"Well most things in a ship burn. Even olive oil, or tar oil, or pine oil will make it burn better. What is the big secret?"
"It makes the water burn," said the mate, while watching the foreigner's face to see the reaction. He smiled when he saw the thoughts cross the foreigners eyes, and his mouth opened but no words came out, just sputters. "Tis the gospel truth, honest. It makes water burn."
Raynar shook off a sudden feeling of doom, for a weapon that made water burn was definitely a weapon of doom. He thanked the mate and made his way slowly, lost in thought, to the steering bridge where all the captains were chattering away to each other.
Someone had made a rough chalk drawing of the harbour on a table, and the captains were looking at it and talking. It took just a moment for Raynar to understand their plan. The Byzantine captain wanted the Normans to be stranded in front of the walls of Dyrrhachium, so he wanted every ship destroyed, including the horse barges. Especially the horse barges.
Selvo was reluctant to destroy any ships. He wanted to capture them all to add to the Venetian fleet either as war ships, or trading ships, or coastal scows for within the Venice lagoon, and the coast around it. He finally agreed that of all the ships, the horse barges were the least useful to him, and gave his permission to destroy them.
The plan was to nose the three Byzantine galleys into the harbour, until they were close enough to bombard the barges with Greek Fire. The smaller Venetian ships could defend the galleys from any small boats in the harbour.
It was much the same plan that Raynar wanted to suggest that first night, except that Raynar's plan had depended on turning their oldest, smallest ships into fire ships to send into the middle of the barges. He had made the plan before he had known of Greek fire. Now he picked up the chalk and extended the map of the harbour to the north and to the south. The other captains stopped talking and watched him do this.
"Your Greek Fire and the burning of the barges will cause havoc on the shores and docks," Raynar explained. "We could make good use of the confusion. Look at what I have drawn. North of the harbour is the shore where Bohemond beached a dozen good ships for their protection. South of the harbour are the tents of the Norman camp.
The army will gather to watch you bombard the barges with Greek fire. There is nothing that they can do to stop you, but they will want to watch. That will bring many men towards the harbour from both the north and south. What if once the barges are burning, you swing all of the large galleys south as if you were going to make a landing. Don't actually land, just threaten to land. For instance, lob some Greek fire into their tent camp.
That will bring many men running from this northern shore where the Bohemond's ships are beached. What if I then take the smallest of the ships, packed with prize crews, and slip out of the harbour, and around to the north shore, and capture those beached ships."
Selvo envisioned the effect of the plan immediately. "Wonderful. Not only do we burn their horse barges, and set afire much of their supplies in their camp, but we also steal the last fast ships. I like it. Any objections? Anyone see any problems? No, then let's get back to our ships and make it so."
* * * * *
Two dozen of the smallest Venetian ships were now under Raynar's command. While the huge Byzantine galleys were being moved into position in the harbour, Raynar's ships kept sweeping along and around the war galleys to make sure they were not attacked by small boats, such as small fire boats. Once the catapults were in range and in place, the small ships were signaled away and they moved off away from the catapults of fire, to safety behind the galleys. This made them the closest ships to the harbour mouth.
Again he felt a feeling of doom as he watched the first of the fiery missiles arch up, and then down amongst the anchored barges. He stared in horror as the first hit the outside of a hull and the burning pitch stuck to the wood of the hull and the shattered jug exploded with the force of the impact and what looked like a grey powder dusted everything around it, including the sea. For a second nothing happened, and then the impossible happened. The sea beside the hull began to bubble, and then the flames of the pitch exploded, and the flames ran along the waterline and within minutes the entire hull was aflame.
He did not know whether to cry out in victory, or cry out in horror. This was truly a weapon of Hades. A weapon from the end of time. He had to watch, as did all the crew around him, fascinated and terrified at the raging fires that now were spreading through the fleet of barges with each new jug of Greek fire.
Just like they were frozen still, watching with horror, so were tens of thousands of men on the shore. When all of the barges were beyond saving, the oarsmen of the galleys swept their oars forward and back, and the water churned and all of their great hulls turned towards the southern shore and the camp of the Norman army. As they moved towards it, the first missile left the closest of the catapults and rose high and long and landed beyond the men on the shore, and into the nest of tents that marked their camp.
To no effect. Yes they could see where it landed, and yes they could see black smoke and reddish flickers from the flaming rags and pitch, but no wild fire, not for a few moments. And then some poor servant at the camp must have thrown a bucket of water to dowse the flames, because there was a sudden explosion and flames began spreading everywhere and quickly.
Now there was some unexpected excitement, and even more yelling up and down the army. On seeing a landing being attempted by the galleys, George Palaeologus, the defender of the city walls, must have rallied his men, and they were now pouring out of the gate, and attacking the guards that had been keeping them trapped inside. Raynar sent a prayer to him that he would be quick to realize that this was not a real landing, and retreat back to the safety of his walls.
It was time for Raynar's ships to leave. They rowed to the north, so that the smoke from the fires would hide their movements from the Normans, and then the left the harbour and went around the northern point to the shore where a dozen ships were now left stripped of their guards. They ran their small ships into the shallows behind the beached ships, so that the prize crews could land. As soon as the men were amongst the beached ships they began heaving them towards the water along the roller logs they had been stored upon.
Once the prize crews were in the shallows, the oarsmen picked up their bows and nocked arrows and watched for anyone who took offense at the stealing of these ships. There were still some guards on the ships, and on the shore, and about half of the archers leaped into the shallows so they could have firm land under their feet and improve their aim. The four Englishmen again worked as skirmishers and picked off any Norman who dared to make trouble.
Before the beached ships were floated, it must have been obvious to every Norman along the beach that they were being stolen, and there was yelling and screaming, and men running to find weapons, and others running to bring men back from the harbour. Georges foray out from the city walls had made this task easier for Raynar's prize crews, because the last of the warriors on this beach had been called towards the city gate to fight Georges men.
Eventually the Norman ships were floated, and the prize crews were scrambling on board and scrambling to get the oars, any oars into the water. Efficient, coordinated rowing be damned. Any pull on any oar would take them into deeper water, and it was deeper water that would make this theft successful.
Some of the archers who had jumped into the shallows had now overstayed their welcome and Raynar was yelling to those still safe on the ships to cover the ones who were retreating from the shoreline. The retreat was done in steps, with groups covering each other as they leap frogged backwards. The prize ships retreated first, then the archers caught on the shore, then the shi
ps that were in the shallows picking up the archers, and finally the ships in deeper water who were now loosing arrows at anyone who was running across the beach.
All of these ships, Venetian and Norman were rowed towards a meeting place one half mile offshore from the harbour mouth. There they rafted together and waited for the galleys to join them. That night the wine flowed on that great sea-harbour raft, and the men feasted, and then slept until dawn. Everyone aboard except for the Byzantine galley slaves, now had shares in a fortune in prizes.
One of the other advantages of the outrigged decks of a galley was that there was flat space enough for everyone to stretch out and sleep. Just before Raynar crawled off with his own bed roll to stretch out and sleep, he joined with Selvo and the Byzantine captain and helped them to finish some strange tasting Greek wine. He had been told that the strange taste was from the pine pitch used to seal the amphora and preserve the wine from turning to vinegar in the hot weather.
Selvo told the Byzantine captain, "A week ago I was in Venice dreaming nightmares about having this strait blocked to my trading ships, and now, now we control the strait. Guiscard has spent all year getting his army to Illyria, and now they are stranded there. I have captured ten longships that I can convert into war galleys, and sixty other ships that can be converted into trade galleys. If your emperor was wise, he would leave Guiscard to starve, and instead send his fleet to recapture Apulia and the boot of the Italies from the few Normans who are left there."
"Selvo," the captain replied, "you have no idea how great the problems are that Alexius has inherited after forty years of greedy misrule in the Empire. Apulia is not worth a blink of his eye, and certainly not the attentions of his fleet. He has rebellions everywhere to quell, and he has the Seljuks pressing him on his eastern border, and he has the Arabs making bargains with the Egyptians to bypass the duties he collects on the spices they bring from the Indies.
