Greek Fire

by James Boschert

  At the end of the report Jonathan accepted the situation calmly enough. “We should leave at the earliest opportunity,” he said as he wiped his dripping nose for the tenth time on his filthy sleeve. “The sooner we leave this den of iniquity the better I shall feel. Why is Sir Talon to stay?” he asked. His voice was querulous.

  “The Emperor has commanded it,” Sir Guy said curtly. “Had I refused it could have jeopardized all I have worked for these past weeks. Sir Talon shall stay and be our eyes and ears until I come back or send for him.” He put a hand on Talon’s forearm.

  “I am sorry, Talon. I did not intend that you should stay beyond our agreed time. I know you would have preferred to come away with us, but we cannot gainsay the Emperor. He is known for his whimsical behavior.”

  “If this is punishment then I am relieved, Sir Guy. Will Max be able to stay with me?” Talon was actually not disappointed. He found the city fascinating, the culture extraordinary, and he wanted to learn more. Now was his chance to do so. He had difficulty hiding his excitement.

  “Of course! Max, you must stay to protect Sir Talon,” Sir Guy said, a deadpan expression on his face.

  Max grinned at Talon. “Yes, Sir Guy, that I will try to do. God willing.”

  “Then it is settled. Henry, prepare the ship to sail within two days—with your permission, Talon.” He gave a small nod in acknowledgment of his ownership. “I want to reach Acre before the winter storms make it difficult.” A tiny smile twitched his lips as he observed Jonathan cross himself fervently.

  Talon, watching the thin-faced monk, was glad at least that he would soon be gone. He had tired of the man’s incessant carping about the Greeks and their foreign ways.

  Talon waited for the monks to retire before he asked a question that had been uppermost on his mind.

  “Does the Emperor really intend to attack the Turkish people of Rum, Sir?” he asked Sir Guy.

  “It is entirely possible, Talon, but not, I think, because of his commitment to another crusade. Maybe it is to impress us. Since Nur Ed Din died the Turkish Sultan Arslan has consolidated his power and he has gained even more lands for himself in the south of his empire, not a little of which used to belong to the Emperor. Your Salah Ed Din has not yet shown much interest in Syria, but I am sure that will change. Manuel has spent too much time taking care of his enemies in the west and has failed to curb Turkish expansion. He wants to take back what was lost even before his father came to power. He has dreams of regaining much of the old empire. If he can succeed, then he will have achieved much; not least to demonstrate that he is a committed ally. The motive really does not matter. I hope he succeeds.”

  He stopped and squinted as he continued, “I found it intriguing that Manuel’s advisors have informed him that we have treasure enough to pay for the protection. Their spies are everywhere! That was clever; if we pay in advance for the launching of a third crusade it means we, the Templars, are committed to ensuring its success.”

  Talon thought about this and wondered what it was like on the main land they could just see across the Bosporus. This must be to where the Emperor would lead his army should there be a war.

  *****

  In the palace of Blachernae the Emperor was in conference with his chief advisors. The business at hand was the invasion of the Sultanate of Rum. Their objective was to strike a two-pronged blow at the sultanate and bring it into submission.

  He addressed one of his most senior generals. “I want to destroy Iconium, as it is the heart of his kingdom; so we must assemble a very large force with siege engines. It must be so large that they will not even dare to engage us. We will advance upon Iconium with a great army, while you, Androikos Vatatzes, will advance upon Amasia with another legion and destroy it.”

  “We should use the towns of Doralaeum and Sublaem as supply bases and bring the armies through them before we move into their territory, Your Highness,” one of his other generals suggested.

  “How long will it take to move supplies in readiness for the main assault?” Manuel asked.

  “Merely a matter of weeks, your Majesty. We should notify the officials at the Grand Palace as soon as possible and they’ll begin to move everything into place,” he replied.

  Not for the first time Manuel was pleased with the vast bureaucracy that he had inherited from his predecessors.

  __________

  Aiding his men the King can move

  Just as he please, in any direction.

  He is cautious when standing, and he sets out

  Fighting to hold down the battle’s stations.

  Avrahim Ibn Ezra

  Chapter 12

  The Passes of Phrygia

  Within a week of Sir Guy’s departure Talon received an urgent message from Alexios while he and Max were eating breakfast. A breathless servant came running down to the inn to deliver it: they were to come back with him immediately.

  They donned their cloaks and hastened up the hill to cross the already busy Forum and then struck up the narrow street that led to the top of the Second Hill. Soon the din of the Mese receded as they climbed. From there they hurried over the crest and down between the plane trees and the large stone-built walls of villas on either side to arrive at the gates of the villa Kalothesos.

  Alexios was waiting for them on the long northern loggia, striding to and fro. He looked agitated. His normally calm features were furrowed in thought. He turned as they were escorted forward by a eunuch and smiled with relief.

  “There you are Talon, Max.” He gave a perfunctory bow.

  “God’s blessings, Alex,” Talon said politely. “You called for us. It sounded urgent.”

  Max said nothing but bowed to Alexios.

  “Um, yes it is urgent.” Alexios sounded distracted. “But I forget myself. Joseph, please bring wine and refreshments. Please be seated.” He waved at the basket-like chairs grouped around a low table. Talon nodded and sat. He liked the view from here of the Golden Horn and the Bosporus off to the east, both waters busy with sails moving across the bright sunlit waters.

  “Yesterday the command went out that all officers and soldiers were to report to the barracks and prepare to march within a week. There’s to be a new campaign!”

  Talon and Max sat up, fully alert now.

  “Where are you going, Alex?”

  “If you look over there,” he pointed to the north at Neorion and Prosphorion harbors, “you will see many more ships than there were before.”

  Talon and Max stood up to stare down the hill at the locations of the two harbors. Now that it had been pointed out Talon could see that they were crammed with vessels of every type and description.

  “I see they are full of ships,” Are those to take your army to the mainland?”

  “I see that the navy is also clustered out in the straits,” Max said. “I do not think I have ever seen so many ships in one place before!” he exclaimed.

  “It was all done within a night and a day. But the preparations have been going on for much longer.” Alexios sounded proud of his country’s ability to organize even as he looked worried.

  “It is very impressive, Alex. How long do you think you’ll be gone? This is a campaign against the Turks, is it not?”

  “I do not doubt it, although I am not party to the details. The sultan has broken too many agreements and the Emperor has decided to teach him a lesson. But there is something else…and it concerns you,” he said.

  Talon looked at Max. “What is it, Alex?”

  “You are commanded to accompany the army and you are expected to stay with the Emperor’s entourage while he is engaged upon this enterprise.” Alexios sounded unhappy.

  “This is a command?” Talon asked, wondering if he had heard correctly.

  “It is a command, Talon. To refuse would…well, it would be unwise.”

  “We are Templar men, Alexios,” Max growled. “Our liege is the King of Jerusalem.”

  Talon thought about it for a moment. “In fact
our liege is the Pope, not even Baldwin can gainsay his command. Yet I see what you mean, Alexios. Should we refuse we would be thrown out of the city persona non grata, and the mission of Sir Guy would be jeopardized, most likely refused. Is the Emperor so…what I mean is, I am just a lowly knight. What significance does it show for me to be a part of this?”

  Alexios frowned. He knew exactly what Talon had refrained from saying, that the Emperor was willful and impulsive. He nodded reluctantly.

  “I suspect that it has much to do with the game we played. I do not know if this is a form of punishment but I should take it as a compliment instead and submit gracefully to the command. You can join me at the barracks within the week. I will send a messenger for you.”

  After they had left and were on their way back to their accommodation Talon glanced at Max and asked, “What are you thinking, Max?”

  “I am thinking that it is not our war and that we should not go, but the alternative is not a pleasant one. Besides, Sir Guy left you here for precisely this reason, to learn more of them, which includes how they make war. We have no choice but to go. I hope the Emperor has not underestimated the Turks.”

  Talon remembered the fierce Turk he had seen in front of the Hagia Sophia and felt sure that these people should not be underestimated. He hoped the Greeks had not.

  *****

  The day was the seventeenth of September in the year of Our Lord AD 1176. Talon and Max rode at the tail end of the Emperor’s personal guards. Talon looked over his shoulder at the seemingly endless column of men that stretched back over the rolling plains to the low foothills they had marched across that morning. This army, he had learned, was known as the tagmata and it was enormous. The long lines of infantry and cavalry wound back many miles behind the division led by the Emperor, and there were even more divisions of infantry in front of them. The multitude of banners, crosses and standards of the empire and its regiments carried by men on foot as well as on horseback fluttered in the light breeze creating a bright and colorful parade for all to witness. The emblems and flags proudly told the world that the largest army Byzantium had amassed in decades was on the march and woe betide the enemy who dared to meet it in the field.

  Having never before been in the company of military force of any size, Talon was struck by the ever-present noise and smells that went with thousands of men on the march. He heard the creak of leather and chink of metal armor, as well as the soft clop of thousands of hooves and the thump of sandals on the dusty surface of the track, and the murmur of voices all about as the army wound its way across the plain, engulfing his ears with a diversity of sounds. He likened it to the buzz of millions of active bees. It rose and fell as groups of men began to talk or swear while others, having been talking for some time, subsided into silence. The murmur grew to near silence as the dust and lack of water dried out men’s throats, and then surged up again as men found something to discuss or complain about. He sneezed; his nostrils were full of the dust raised by their passage and he adjusted his shemagh over his nose and mouth. His horse snorted, as it too seemed to be having trouble breathing through the dust.

  The other impression Talon had was the incredible variety of dress, armor and uniforms of the many units that composed the branches of the tagmata. Alexios had pointed out the differing cavalry units and named some of them. “You see those mounted men with bows and lances, Talon? They’re the prokoursatores, our light cavalry. The Heavy cavalry, over there, with long lances and very good armor like mine are, the kataphraktoi, our shock troops. They can destroy the enemy when they charge into them as a wedge. The Emperor keeps them close to his person as many of them are from wealthy families.”

  It was clear the infantry came from numerous origins. He recognized the Varangians from the parades and the imperial Oikos surrounding the Emperor and his staff, but there were also units from Thrace, Bulgaria, Antioch and places he had never heard of before.

  He noticed that the men in front were beginning to bunch up. The van of the army had stopped at the massive entrance to a gorge cut through the heavily wooded mountains through which ran the river Meander. Here it was a fast flowing stream. Men were breaking ranks and filling their water skins.

  He was uneasy. For the last few days the army had made its way over a series of low hills then across the plains of Philomelion, subsisting off its transported rations and foraging for what they could off the land. However the Turks had burned most of the crops and high grass as they withdrew, leaving wide swathes of blackened countryside. The air stank of burned grass and trees, and there were still columns of black smoke in places where the Turks had burned entire villages in a scorched earth attempt to slow the Byzantine army.

  Most of the wells that they had come to had been poisoned. The choices left to the commanders were few. Eventually after much debate and acrimonious discussion between Emperor Manuel I and his generals he had ordered the army to leave the plains and seek water from the river, which they were now following. Looking off to the north Talon could see squadrons of the Turkish archers watching them from a distance, obviously preparing to move in closer and inflict what casualties they could on the column led by the protostrator, General Theodore Mavrozomes, the second in command to the Emperor. He was accompanied by his best soldiers, a mixture of his personal guard the imperial Oikos, many of whom were young aristocrats with little experience in war, and the Varangians, who were Nordic and English mercenaries with much experience.

  Someone with a sharp eye yelled and pointed at the Turks, who had begun to move forward on their ponies and then came in a rush, their yells and battle cries loud in the dusty air. Talon took out his bow from its place under his left thigh and knocked an arrow. Taking aim he waited until the Turks were within a hundred paces and then loosed his arrow. His bow was stronger than most and his aim good; the arrow plunged into the front ranks of the Turks, striking a rider high on his left chest. The man toppled off his horse, to be run over by his companions who had not anticipated an arrow to find its mark a this distance.

  A shower of arrows loosed by the Byzantine light cavalry greeted the rest of the Turks, who responded with their own arrows, and men began to fall on both sides. The Turks wheeled their horses and rode away but continued to shoot over the backs of their horses even as they raced away, inflicting more casualties among the ranks of the Byzantium soldiers. Their small, shaggy ponies were ideal for this kind of skirmish, responding to the leg aids of their riders who used both hands to fire their bows while holding their reins in their teeth. The Turkish skirmishers regrouped, wheeled their ponies around, and repeated the maneuver.

  An arrow whispered past Talon to strike another man behind him. The man shouted with pain as the arrow embedded itself in his thigh. Not for the first time Talon noticed that the strange looking tube armor worn by the lighter cavalry did not do well against a direct thrust or arrows. The man gripped his saddle front with his right hand, trying to prevent himself from falling off as he clutched at the wound, the arrow protruding. He grimaced and his eyes squeezed shut with the pain. His companions sidled their horses up to him and helped him to dismount. A eunuch rushed up and extracted the arrow, which judging by the yelling was very painful. They then bound the wound and assisted the pale man to remount and continue.

  Some cavalrymen who carried long maces along with their lances, exasperated by this harassment, shouted abuse and brandished their maces at the enemy threatening to dismember them. They wanted to chase after the retreating Turks but their officers savagely shouted them back into line and the march continued. Talon looked about. The Emperor was just forward, accompanied by his two generals and well protected by the palace guards and their cavalry. There were many Varangians in this group, as they were the highly respected palace guards, but there were also Latin knights who came from many of the countries of Europe and he had been able to converse with several whose families had been in Byzantium for over a generation serving the emperors as heavy cavalry.

 
They carried the kite-shaped shields that Talon was familiar with, although he did not carry one as he found it interfered with his bow, so he carried a small metal shield on his forearm. Max, on the other hand, bore the shield of the Templars with the distinctive cross decorating the front slung over his back, as did many of the other knights. The two of them had initially received many curious looks from the other Frank and German horsemen when they joined the Emperor’s entourage, but these veterans soon began to talk to the newcomers, asking them what they were doing in the country and why they were with the army. Max told a few of them as a joke that Talon had knocked the emperor’s brother off his horse and was now paying the price for such impertinence. Talon wondered if that wasn’t partly true.

  Now he observed the generals staring forward and discussing the steep gorge opening in front of the army. Their conversation was animated and Talon even fancied that General Mavrozomes and General Kantakouzenos might be trying to dissuade the Emperor from entering the narrow defile, at least not before it had been thoroughly scouted. But he could see that there were some younger officers who were eager to enter the gorge and proceed; he thought he saw Pantoleon Spartenos in among them.

  Then the men in the very front of the army halted and messengers were seen galloping back toward the Emperor. Talon and Max glanced at one another, then edged their horses forward to try to hear what was being said. The messengers came from Baldwin of Antioch, who was in the van of the army with his divisions. There was a Turkish delegation waiting to speak with the Emperor at the entrance of the gorge. The messengers were sent rushing back to bring the Turks to the Emperor, where they dismounted and prostrated themselves in front of him. Manuel remained seated on his horse with his officers and guards placed in a semicircle behind him.

  Talon noted that the leader was a tall, strong looking man with a scar down his forehead who looked familiar. He and Max were too far from the group to hear what was being said but there was much gesticulation from the Turks, who waved back at the pass. The translators were kept busy, but before long the Turks bowed very low and remounted to then be escorted back to their own men. Within minutes the entire delegation had vanished into the maw of the towering pass.