“I’m looking for Gaius,” Athos repeated, after a few moments of silence he got a response.
“I’m Gaius, are you Athos?”
Athos responded, “Yes.”
A chuckle issued forth from Gaius, “You must be a special kind of stupid to piss Nikas off right before a march.”
Gaius emerged from the darkness carrying a wooden frame. Two brutes were following him. Each of the men held an amphora of wine. Athos grimaced at the thought of the day ahead and responded, “Aye, this is going to be a hard lesson to learn. Just get the damn things on my back,” He spat out the second sentence with a snarl.
“Don’t get pissy with me soldier, you were the idiot that set yourself up for this,” snapped Gaius in return.
Athos got down on his knees, and Gaius used a rope to secure the two amphorae of wine to his back. The amphorae were ceramic jugs approximately three feet in height and roughly eighteen inches wide at the center. They narrowed at both the base and the top. The opening in the top was sealed with wax and cork to prevent the contents from leaking out. The amphorae were secured to a frame with ropes. The frame could be carried on a back using the two leather straps that Athos’ arms went through to hold it up on his back.
Thanks to his trip to the warehouse, Athos was the last to fall into position. A few minutes later Nikas joined them. “2nd Kentarchia, ten hut!” Nikas’ voice boomed. “Form column of sixes!”
The men of the 2nd Kentarchia fell into their assigned places. Nikas looked around and saw all of the Kentarchias of the 5th Parthica lining up into their combined formation for marching. The gate guard opened the main gate to the 5th Parthica’s fort. “5th Parthica, forward!” boomed the voices of the Kentarchia Commanders in unison. All at once the Skutatoi of the 5th Parthica began their march. A loud clap echoed through the city, each time their sandaled feet struck the ground in perfect unison. The 5th Parthica was on the move.
As each of the Kentarchias emerged from the fort, they marched past the armory and then turned left onto the street called Straight. Straight was Damascus’ main road. The street ran in a perfect straight line between the West Gate and the East Gate. As the 1st Kentarchia began passing the Governor’s Palace to the right. Governor Maurice emerged onto his balcony overlooking the street.
Seeing the Governor, the 1st Kentarchia’s Commander yelled, “Salute right!” The men of the 1st Kentarchia touched their right fist to their heart and then held their fists slightly above the level of their shoulders and in front of them. The hand had fingers extended straight. They held the salute until the last rank of the Kentarchia had passed Governor Maurice.
As the 2nd Kentarchia approached the balcony, Nikas’ voice boomed out, “2nd Kentarchia salute right!” As Athos walked past, he saw the Governor gazing down upon them. This is the first time that Athos had seen him. The man was deep into middle age, with pale skin and an unusual, intense stare. His eyes seemed to look but not really see, which gave him a haunted look. The kind of forlorn expression that sent shivers up Athos’ spine. In addition, the man was quite fat with black hair and beard. The black hair was peppered with a few strands of gray.
As they marched east down the street, the children of the city came out to see the spectacle. The adults, used to the constant presence of the military, paid them little mind as they went about their business. The sight of the 5th Parthica marching out for training in the desert had become a common sight for the City of Damascus over the last week. As they passed the road to their left that lead to the agora, the sun broke the horizon just as the East Gate Guards opened the gate to the approaching Skutatoi of the 1st Kentarchia.
The sun was not visible above the city walls yet, so it shined through the open gate. It was a breathtaking sight for the children. It looked as if the men of the 5th Parthica were walking through the gates into the fiery light of heaven itself. One by one the Kentarchia passed through the gate and made another left turn toward the River Barada.
The Barada River was slow flowing, brown and murky. Much different from the fast flowing and clear waters of Armenia, thought Athos as they marched. The banks of the river were dotted with greenery in the form of trees, bushes, and grass. The land drew a sharp contrast between the green of the vegetation and the dull tans and browns that dominated the landscape once you were more than fifty feet from the river.
Following this thin strip of greenery amongst the vastness of the parched desert, the 5th Parthica snaked their way around Damascus between the river and the city walls. Once they rounded the corner at the Gate of Thomas and turned west, Mount Hermon came into view. Athos’ back was already screaming in protest over the weight of the Amphorae on his back. In addition to his aching back, sweat had already formed on his brow despite the earliness of the hour.
Baltazar glanced at him with a look of concern on his face and asked, “How are you holding up Athos?”
“I’m well enough though today is going to be a long day, my friend, but at least we will have wine at the end of it.” Constan overheard the friends speaking to each other and smiled.
While heavy, the burden didn’t seem too bad at first, thought Athos. Of course, that was before the heat of the Sun started to bite. For the first few hours of the march, the going had been relatively easy on the Roman road to Tyre. Athos focused on putting one foot in front of the other and keeping the sweat out of his eyes.
Baltazar looked at him with growing concern etched into his features, “Here, Athos.” He handed Athos his canteen. Athos looked at Baltazar in thanks and took a swig. After he had taken a mouthful of the precious liquid, he put the cap on and handed it back to Baltazar. Baltazar put a hand on Athos’ shoulder and squeezed it for a moment.
The two amphorae were nearly beyond Athos’ strength to carry at this point. Unfortunately, he must endure their weight for many miles yet. As an additional punishment, Nikas had ordered Athos’ to leave behind his rations and canteen. Athos’ felt nauseous. He had consumed his rations completely rather than leave them behind. The dull ache in his stomach seemed to take away a bit of the fire he felt in his legs. Athos silently prayed for strength to get him through this march.
Athos looked up at Mount Hermon and saw it was drawing closer. Soon the most difficult part of today’s journey would begin. Athos’ thoughts were interrupted by a sudden eruption of flatulence off to his right. Immediately the men of Athos’ Kontoubernion burst into snickers. They had to keep the sound low to avoid the wrath of Nikas. Constan, marching in formation behind Damon, muttered at him, “Holy Mother of God lad, I think your insides are rotting.”
Damon beamed as a man who was proud of a great accomplishment, “Indeed, they are, old man.” Damon looked back and winked at Constan, “I believe we are sharing a tent tonight.” Damon punctuated his statement with another burst of noxious fumes.
Constan let out a string of curses and then added, “You try that tonight, and I’ll shove the pommel of my Spatha up your arse to keep it corked!”
They continued to march along the road for about two hours. The well-crafted road consisted of flat stones laid on the ground into a bed that had been dug and perfectly leveled. A cement-like substance had been used to fill the gaps between the rocks. This created a nearly flat surface.
The landscape that slowly flowed by them as they marched changed little. The ground was a hard-parched surface dotted with small stones and the occasional large one. Scattered amongst this desolation were patches of grass where life was able to take root for a short time before succumbing to the ravages of the desert sun.
The Roman Road, built long ago, was wide enough that two wagons could pass each other without touching. It was an amazing feat of engineering that a road built at least six hundred years prior remained in such good condition despite very little maintenance over the last generation or so. During the past thirty years, the resources of the Empire had been consumed with surviving. Maintaining infrastructure was now an unaffordable luxury.
As the 5th
Parthica continued its westward march down the road, the flat terrain gave way to a gentle rise. Soon they reached the point where they had to divert from the Tyre-Damascus road at the base of Mount Hermon. At the spot where the mountain path joined the road, there was a large flat plateau.
The area had room enough to house the 5th Parthica. A mountain stream that flowed from Mt. Hermon terminated in a small lake at the left side of the plateau. The officers of the 5th Parthica’s voices boomed as one the moment the last Kentarchia exited the road and began the ascent toward the peak of Mt. Hermon.
“Halt!” Nikas walked up and down the line of the 2nd Kentarchia giving orders to the men, “Eat your midday rations, relieve yourselves into the lake, and fill your canteens in the stream. Do not fill your canteens in the lake. We march again in twenty minutes.”
Athos immediately collapsed to the ground. After several hours on the march, his body was in sorry shape. He closed his eyes and focused on the pain in his back. He felt as if someone had taken the pommel of a sword and beaten it against his back a hundred times. In addition to the pain, the flesh of his shoulders was red and irritated from the leather straps.
Baltazar turned Athos over and poured the last of his canteen’s contents down his throat. Athos croaked at Baltazar, “I need more.” Zosimos, with a look of concern on his face, handed Athos his canteen and Athos immediately drained it off. Athos croaked his thanks to Zosimos and closed his eyes. After a few moments, he fell asleep.
Baltazar shook Athos to wake him up. He had pushed a piece of hard bread into Athos’ hand and said, “Athos, you have to eat something.” Athos grunted in acknowledgment and took the offered bread. After a few moments, Nikas’ loud voice washed over them, “Form column of sixes, ladies, we resume the march!”
The brief reprieve seemed to help Athos little. The bread had soaked away some of that dull ache in his stomach. There was that at least. The path quickly became rocky as it began to wind its way around the base of Mount Hermon. Little pieces of rocks and pebbles were everywhere; footing became very treacherous. Particularly for Athos with his extra burden.
Athos continued to do what he had been doing all day; concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other. As the ascent up Mt. Hermon began, each new step was agony. The muscles of his calves and shins began to protest and burn as they tired from the ascent.
Baltazar turned around and looked back at the way they had come. It was a breathtaking sight. Damascus was now far below them. A green jewel in the middle of the desert that stretched to the horizon in every visible direction.
With each new mile, Athos became clumsier and clumsier. Damon marched to his right and Baltazar marched to his left. Fearing that Athos would fall, they decided to give him a hand. They each took an arm and lent him a bit of their strength.
The Sun had passed over their heads and now began its journey downward toward the western horizon. The 5th Parthica made its way slowly up the winding narrow road ascending to the three peaks of Mt. Hermon. Around mid-afternoon, they had passed by the Basilica of St. James.
Caifas had been to the basilica a few times during his childhood and described the church to everyone, “The Basilica of St. James had been erected in the previous century. The walled compound, with a basilica at its center, looked down upon the Damascus plain. I remember the two services I attended as a boy. The morning Sun shined into an opening in the shape of a cross during the summer months making the priest seem like an angel from heaven as he conducted services.”
Caifas continued the story in his husky voice, “My father used to take me up here when I was growing up. He tried to show me a bit of the beauty of the world. Mount Hermon has been a holy place for a very long time.” He paused for several moments to take in the view and then continued, “The journey helped me to see the man that my father was. It is hard to see it in Damascus. He always looked so tired and beaten from his long days maintaining the fires at the armory so the smiths could make swords, arrows, and spearheads. Out here on Mount Hermon, he seemed so strong and at peace. When you are at the summit, you feel like you can reach out and almost touch God.”
Caifas turned, looked back at Athos, and said, “Not much longer now, my friend. We are perhaps four miles from the top.”
Athos looked at Caifas, the pain etched on his face, and the sweat dripped off of his brow. He croaked, “I’m not sure I have anything left in me. I’m so thirsty.”
At that moment a stiff wind blew from the west. Athos, despite the pain, could smell a hint of salt on the air. As the wind slowly increased in intensity, the dry air of the desert slowly gave way to the humid air of the coastal plain. His torment increased as the moist air prevented the sweat on his body from evaporating to cool his skin.
They continued marching. Soon clouds began to form overhead. The wind shifted from a warm breeze to a cool one. The cool air felt like the breath of God on Athos’ skin. Overhead he heard a faint rumble. Overtime, the rumbling slowly morphed into the booming sound of thunder. Lightning flashed above, quickly followed by another loud crash of thunder.
Within moments it began to rain. The rain washed the filth of many miles of desert road from the men of the 5th Parthica. Athos smiled and opened his mouth letting the life-giving liquid flow directly from God into his mouth.
At first, the rain seemed like a blessing, but after several minutes streams of water began to pour down the mountainside. These streams flowed across the path at points dropping into the nothingness below. This made the footing for the men treacherous at best, and several stumbled and fell.
Athos slipped on the slick ground and fell to his knees. He tried to get up, but he just couldn’t find his footing. Baltazar and Damon grabbed his arms and hauled him up. Noticing the fall and the aftermath, Nikas ran over and screamed at Athos, “Don’t you dare lose my wine! Today’s march has given me a powerful thirst, and it would be most unfortunate for you if that thirst isn’t taken care of, Athos.”
Athos nodded his acknowledgment and continued to trudge forward up the steepening road. The rain continued to pound the 5th Parthica as they made their way up the winding mountain path toward the middle summit of Mount Hermon. Athos heard a few startled screams come from well behind him down the road.
Nikas halted the 2nd Kentarchia and ran to the rear of the formation. As Nikas passed by Athos and the rest of the members of his Kontoubernion, thunder shook the side of the mountain. Lightning flashed and was almost instantly followed by more thunder. The storm was a constant roar in their ears as the rain intensified. The wind drove the rain drops into Athos’ skin creating a stinging sensation.
Amazingly enough, Nikas could still be heard over this tremendous racket. “Fuck!” Nikas exclaimed and came back into view. “2nd Kentarchia, forward!” He commanded in a yell that just barely could be heard over the storm.
Athos was in a horrible state. He had never known fatigue like this. Even his chest hairs hurt as they rubbed up against the thin layer of cotton cloth between himself and his breastplate. His shoulders and back felt like they had been burning in hellfire for the last few hours.
Finally, the howling wind began to subside, and the rain went from a sideways onslaught that seemingly assaulted Athos from every angle to a gentle straight downward flow. Athos once again opened his mouth and drank of God’s bounty. Whispering, he said, “God, please forgive me of my many sins. Thank you for giving me the strength to make today’s march. Without you, I would not have made it this far. God, I still have a little ways to go yet, and I feel so tired. I would appreciate it if you could give me just a little more help.” Athos made the sign of the cross and spoke the words of the Trinity. He completed the prayer with a faint, “Amen.”
About an hour later, they finally reached the top. Athos collapsed to his knees as soon as the halt order was called out by Nikas. Constan and Baltazar immediately rushed over to steady him. Nikas sauntered over. Athos looked up at Nikas. His wet black hair was pasted to his skull and gave him
a slightly demonic appearance. The orange rays of the setting sun completed the effect catching the water droplets in his hair and making them seem like a fiery orange mane surrounding his face.
Nikas smiled at Athos, “Athos, I must admit I never expected you to make it this far. I wanted to break you down and show you the heavy price of not giving yourself enough rest before a march. I expect in the future that you will spend less time engaging in drunken debauchery and more time in your rack making sure you are at your best when I call you to formation.” His face softened, “You may rest in our Kentarchia’s assigned area Athos. The rest of you sluggards need to join the line and make us a marching fort!” The men groaned in unison to show their displeasure but moved quickly to perform the task, least they end up like Athos.
Servants quickly set up the tents for all of the senior officers of the 5th Parthica. Once Nikas’ servant Servius completed setting up Nikas’ tent, he came over to Athos. Athos was leaning against his jury-rigged Amphorae pack and slept soundly despite the fact he was lying in the mud.
Servius, shook him gently to wake him up. Athos groaned at the touch. Servius continued to shake him. Finally, awareness came back to Athos. Servius gave him a moment to collect himself and then said, “I am here for the amphorae Athos.” Athos nodded in response, stood up, and gestured toward the pack. With a grunt, Servius picked up the pack and carried it to Nikas’ tent. Athos watched it disappear thanking God that he still lived.
Athos sat down and watched the camp slowly come to life. Guards were posted as soon as the dirt walls of the marching fort were in place. The marching fort consisted of a giant square with two gates. The gates were opposite each other, and a broad avenue ran up the middle of the fort. The dirt walls had a palisade formed into them so that the guards could look out at the terrain around them. Completing the fort was a deep ditch dug just in front of the wall.
Upon completion, those men not standing the first watch returned to their assigned unit location within the camp and began pitching their tents. Each soldier carried a tent half as part of their pack. Each soldier had a tent mate with the other matching half of their tent. When joined the two pieces formed one low tent with just enough room to house two Skutatoi. The small tent kept the worst of the weather off the men so that they could rest peacefully when not standing watch.
Byzantium Infected Box Set Page 8
