“Oh,” the Governor said using a quizzical tone of voice.
“Aye,” scores of the stuff is lying on the ground at Yarmouk.”
“Brilliant,” replied the Governor. “How do you propose we retrieve it, Dekanos?”
Constan replied, “By sending Droungarios Luko there with his remaining cavalry and some wagons back to the battlefield. The damned we encountered on our journey back were scattered and in small groups. I believe they have a fair chance at success.”
Governor Maurice pondered Constan’s statement for several moments and replied, “I can’t spare the Droungarios. I need to send him onto Palmyra on the ‘morrow with a proclamation that every man between the ages of 15-50 not employed in weapons production are now in the military. Along with a few of your men they will begin reconstituting the 8th Mesopotamian. We can send Boulous, the remaining cavalry, two of your men, and forty City Guardsmen with wagons to Yarmouk. Your people will begin training those guardsmen how to be Skutatoi along the way. Who can you send that is best suited to the task, Dekanos?”
Constan replied, “Meself and Baltazar.”
The Governor frowned and replied, “Not possible, Dekanos. You are to be the new Tourmarches of the 5th Parthica.” Constan gasped in surprise at this announcement. Governor Maurice continued, “You have the best grasp of weapons and their employment out of everyone in this room. I need you to use that knowledge to train and reconstitute the 5th Parthica. I will send out a proclamation here in Damascus requiring all men not working at the armory between the ages of 15 and 50 to report to the 5th Parthica’s Fort for training. Congratulations, Tourmarches!”
The Governor’s gaze settled upon Zahid and Farid, “Effective immediately the City Guardsmen are to report to the fort to be incorporated into the 5th Parthica. Farid, I am appointing you Droungarios as Constan’s second in command. See to the integration of your men with Constan’s. You and your boys have much to learn about real soldiering. You’ll find that it is harder than fleecing taxes from little old ladies.” This brought a round of laughter from everyone else in the room. “Learn quickly as you are our best hope if we get attacked. God willing the damned will not gather as they did at Yarmouk before we are ready for them.
Farid, see that forty of your men report to the fort at dawn. Komes Boulous ensure that you and seven of your surviving cavalry, are ready to depart with the expedition. Report to the fort. They have plenty of mounts already there at the stables along with all of the bits, bridles, and saddles you will need to outfit them. Show Constan’s two men how to saddle a horse and give them some basic riding lessons. I want you riding out of here no later than three hours after sunrise on the ‘morrow.”
The Governor paused and belched. Satisfied he took a drink from his goblet and continued, “Komes Boulous at three hours after sunrise fifteen wagons will arrive at the fort. You will escort these wagons to Yarmouk. Tourmarches Constan, who will you nominate to accompany Baltazar in your place?”
“Sir, Dekanos Justin can go. Either one of them should be able to lead the expedition back to the locations where we saw the Kataphractoi fall. Komes Boulous can decide which Kataphractoi kits are salvageable. If that doesn’t fill up the wagons, Dekanos Justin can fill them with axes, arrows, armor, and Spathas.” Constan turned and faced the two men, “Any questions?”
Justin and Baltazar snapped to attention and replied in tandem, “No, Sir!”
“Good, lads. Baltazar with me, let’s go check on Athos.” The pair walked to the room where Athos was recuperating. Entering the room, they saw Athos sitting up with a look of confusion on his face. “Can you assist me with him, Baltazar? Let’s get him on his horse and back to his sleeping pallet.”
Baltazar snapped off a salute to Constan, “It will be my pleasure, Tourmarches.”
Constan smiled to himself, I am beginning to like the sound of that. Constan and Baltazar helped Athos to his feet. Athos appeared groggy but was able to walk. The pair led Athos outside to his horse which, under the watchful eye of the guards, was still tied out front. They helped Athos onto the horse, and Baltazar took the lead.
Justin, along with the other members of the 5th Parthica, emerged from the palace. Justin saw Constan and walked over. He stood in front of Constan and came to stiff attention and saluted. Constan was taken aback by the move, “We are off duty, Justin. I still have to wipe me arse same as you do.” Constan let out an audible sigh and thought, This will take some getting used to. A Tourmarches? Lord in heaven what have we come to?
Justin cracked a smile and replied, “Aye, but you can now afford a slave to wipe it for you.” The rest of the men burst out laughing.
Constan laughed along with them, “Indeed, why don’t you boys head on to the Thirsty Palm. We might as well live it up tonight seeing that on the ‘morrow we will have to train a new lot to face the damned. Baltazar and meself will take Athos back to his pallet and join thee after a spell.”
“Aye sir, it will be my utmost pleasure to follow your directive,” Justin replied while sticking his chest out and pretending to sound like an aristocrat. Constan smiled, joined Baltazar and Athos, then began walking down Straight Street. The sounds of the men laughing and joking could be heard for the first few hundred feet as they walked.
The trio continued to walk down Straight Street. The moonlight cast a faint glow, just enough to light the way. The buildings on either side of the road looming above them was cast in dark shadows. As they walked quietly, they passed the occasional dwelling with light emerging from the cracks of closed doors and shuttered windows. The group turned onto the street leading to the fort. The armory that was bustling with activity as they passed earlier in the day now lay still and silent.
Light from the Lonely Legionnaire became visible as they drew close to the fort. The group did not notice a cluster of shadows that detached themselves from the buildings and began to follow silently, five in all. Without warning, five more figures emerged from the alley just in front of the trio. The individuals were shrouded in black cloaks and carried spears.
Constan shouted a challenge to them, “What in the nine hells do ye think ye are doing blocking our way?” The men brandished their spears and fell into a fighting stance. Baltazar glanced over his shoulder and saw the other five cloaked figures following them. He slapped Athos’ horse on the rump and yelled, “Athos ride for the fort. Heya!” Athos’ horse startled by the slap and the noise from Baltazar took off at a gallop. Two of the cloaked individuals barely manage to dodge out of the way of the horse as it charged through them.
Constan and Baltazar pulled out their daggers, the only weapon they had. Constan, with a look of worry on his face, told Baltazar, “Lad, cover the five behind us. I’ll deal with the spineless sons of a disease infested goat in front of us.”
Catching on Baltazar added to the insult, “Constan, why would you insult goats by comparing this lot to them? They are clearly the spawn of maggots who feasted on the dung of Camels.”
“Aye laddie, you mayhap be right. Especially since these spineless yellow cowards need the strength of ten to defeat the two of us. ‘Tis clear to me that these pathetic eaters of dung couldn’t manage it with less.” The tactic finally had the desired effect as the man in front of Constan screamed in anger and charged recklessly with his spear held out in front of him. He had one thought in his mind, skewering Constan with the spear.
Constan sidestepped the spear thrust and grabbed the shaft with his left hand. He yanked on it. Surprised by this move, the angry attacker failed to let go. Constan got a good whiff of him as he pulled him in close. His breath stinks of garlic and cheap wine. Constan then thrust his dagger into the man’s abdomen. Screaming in agony, the man released his grip on the spear and fell to the ground.
Constan sheathed his dagger and twirled the spear with his left hand. He finished the maneuver by reversing the point of the weapon so that it now pointed at the remaining four attackers in front of him. Next, he held the spear with both o
f his hands and dropped into a fighting stance, “Which one of ye cowards is next?”
At the same moment that Constan defeated his first opponent, Baltazar used his dagger to block a spear thrust. A second thrust aimed for his head cuts a trail across his left cheek as he narrowly dodged to the right. Baltazar, now down low, stabbed the first attacker in the leg with his dagger.
The man screamed, dropped his spear, grabbed the wound, and fell to the ground. As Baltazar’s blade was withdrawn, a single drop of blood slid down his cheek from his spear injury. The blood then dropped off of his cheek and fell into the open wound of the man Baltazar had just stabbed. Baltazar sheathed his dagger and snatched up the spear. He then crouched into a defensive stance with the spear in his hands.
In the next moment, two of the attackers facing Constan lunged at him with their spears. Constan blocked the spear thrust at him from the left with the shaft of his spear. As he did so, the second attacker slipped through Constan’s defenses stabbing his spear into the top of Constan’s right shoulder. Constan screamed in pain and yelled at the attacker, “Ye bastard, I will carve out your entrails for that!”
The attacker taunted Constan in return, “Shut up and bleed old man.” The attacker then twisted the spear embedded in Constan’s shoulder. Constan screamed in pain and dropped to his knees quivering in agony.
Seeing an opening, Baltazar jabbed his spear at his second attacker and shouted, “We are in the midst of a crisis the likes of which this world has ever seen. Tens of thousands of the dead will surely attack us and you damn fools want to slay two of the handful of soldiers the city has to stand against them?” Baltazar’s thrust slipped past the man’s spear and sank into his target’s abdomen. The man screamed and fell to the ground clutching his wound.
A familiar voice emerged from an alleyway nearby and answered Baltazar’s question, “Indeed, you are nothing but stupid peasants. Trussed up violators of young lambs, unworthy of your position. The Empire was built upon the success of men with breeding and intelligence. Two qualities you and your contemptable band of survivors lack.”
Constan, trying not to pass out from the pain, suddenly fell backward. The instant the spear emerged from his shoulder he yanked hard on the shaft with his left hand. Completely surprised by this move, the attacker, still holding the spear, lost his balance and fell forward. Constan let go of the spear and drew his dagger. He thrust the blade into the chest of the flailing attacker a moment before he landed on Constan, now on his back. The blade sunk into the man’s chest causing a gout of blood to erupt onto Constan. Constan let out an oomph noise as the air was pushed from his lungs from the weight of his dying opponent landing on top of him.
The three men that faced Baltazar now seem hesitant to attack with two of their comrades bleeding on the ground in front of him. The three took a step back and dropped into a defensive stance with their spear before them. Baltazar, taking advantage of their fear, turned and cast his spear at one of Constan’s remaining attackers. The spear slammed into his target’s chest, and he fell backward to the ground with a scream.
One of the three facing Baltazar saw a chance to strike with his back momentarily facing them. He took a step forward and thrust his spear at Baltazar’s exposed back. Suddenly someone grabbed his leg and bit him. With a shriek of pain, the man twisted around to see what bit him. It was the first man that Baltazar stabbed with his dagger. He had bled out and died.
The dull milky white eyes of his former compatriot looked back at him with hunger. The now undead face had blood dripping down its chin. The man screamed in horror, and the newly damned man lunged for his throat. Sharp teeth sank into his throat and silenced him for all time.
The two remaining attackers facing Baltazar dropped their spears and ran away screaming toward Straight Street. One of the men still facing Constan screamed in agony. The man looked down at the source of his pain and saw the head of an arrow sticking out of his chest. The second man whirled around to figure out the source of this new attack. As he did so, an arrow pierced his right eye putting an end to his life.
Baltazar turned and saw one of the damned feeding on his now deceased attacker. He drew his dagger and thrust it into the top of the creature’s head. The damned fell limp onto the body of its former meal. The partially eaten corpse then came back to life with a moan.
Seeing Baltazar standing over him it grabbed for his legs, but the weight of the body on top of it prevented the newly damned from seizing hold of Baltazar. Who then kicked the twice dead body off the creature and thrust his dagger into its eye socket, “Now you will stay dead you bastard.” The harsh edge to his voice displayed the anger that was welling up from deep inside him.
Baltazar yanked the dagger out and threw it at the spot where he had heard the voice earlier in the alleyway. The blade struck whoever it was, and he let out a gasp of pain. He then heard the sound of footsteps as the man ran down the lane trying to escape. Exhausted, Baltazar sank to his knees. His body quivered with fatigue as his adrenaline rush ebbed, “This is not how I wanted to spend my evening.”
Constan whispered into the ear of the man still on top of him, “Remember what I promised ye?” Constan pulled his dagger out of the man’s chest, rolled him over onto his back, and cut a broad swath across his abdomen. The man let out a scream and tried to clutch the new wound.
Constan brushed off the man’s right hand grabbed his left hand and held it against the ground. He then speared the man’s left hand with his dagger pinning the hand to the ground. Constan then reached into his abdominal wound, which gushed dark red blood, and yanked hard on the man’s intestines. The man let out a blood-curdling scream of agony and passed out. Constan spoke to the unconscious form atop him, “Promise kept.”
Next, Constan pulled his dagger free from the man’s left hand. He then thrust the blade into the man’s left eye killing him. Withdrawing the dagger from the corpse, he cleaned it on the corpse’s black cloak. Standing, he spat on the corpse, “Enjoy hell.”
Athos, a bow in his hand, walked up to the pair and spoke, “Who were these bastards?”
Constan replied, “I know not who they were. The lot of them seemed to have some familiarity with the spears they wielded.”
Baltazar joined in on the conversation, “The voice from the alleyway, I’ve heard it before, but I can’t quite place it.”
Constan looked over at Athos who still held a bow in his hands, “Seems you’ve been holding out on me. Where did you learn how to shoot like that, lad?”
A brief look of pain flashed across Athos’ face, “Armenia, I used to hunt in the forests around my home for meat.”
Constan ripped a piece of cloth from one of the corpses at his feet and held it on his shoulder wound. He gasped in pain as the cloth touched the wound. Athos noticed the wound for the first time, “Baltazar, help me get the old man to the fort so we can tend his wound.”
“How are you feeling yourself? You seemed barely conscious a few minutes ago,” Baltazar asked.
Athos responded, “Aye I was. The suddenness of this attack appears to have cleared my befuddled head. When I reached the fort, I dismounted from the horse. I then grabbed a bow and a quiver of arrows from the armory and ran back here as fast as I could.”
The trio continued their walk toward the fort. Constan struggled to walk unaided. Athos and Baltazar moved to help him as he staggered. Constan let out another gasp of pain as they each took him by the arms and helped him to walk. He was getting weaker from blood loss. Athos looked over at Constan and asked, “Is there a rule or something that states you have to bleed from every fight? No wonder you have so many damn scars old man.”
Constan chuckled weakly at Athos’ observation, “Aye, tis indeed a rule it seems. Mayhaps I’ll learn how to get through a fight one day without bleeding.”
With some difficulty they managed to get Constan back to the fort. Constan was close to unconsciousness as the blood loss from his shoulder wound took its toll, “Baltazar, ye rem
ember how the bleeding was stopped from my arrow wound?”
“Yes.”
“Ye must do that quickly to my shoulder.” Constan winced as he pulled his dagger from its sheath using his uninjured left arm, “Use this.” Constan extended his arm in Baltazar’s direction with the blade of the dagger in his hand. Before Baltazar can take the blade, Constan losses consciousness. Baltazar catches him as the blade clatters on the flagstones of the fort’s main road.
Athos and Baltazar carry Constan to his sleeping pallet. They lay him gently on it. Baltazar then builds a fire in the fire pit and set the dagger into the crackling flames. The two friends speak of their latest brush with death while they wait. After twenty minutes or so the dagger glowed red from the heat of the fire. “Athos, hold him down while I close the wound.”
“Aye,” Athos sighed deeply not liking what was coming next. He climbed on top of Constan careful not to restrict his breathing. He then positioned himself to where he was sitting on Constan’s legs and holding Constan’s arms with his hands.
Baltazar withdrew the dagger from the fire and slowly walked across the room. When he reached Constan, he asked Athos, “Ready?”
Athos nodded, “Let’s get this over with.”
Baltazar carefully set the glowing blade on Constan’s shoulder wound. The flesh made a sizzling sound as it cauterized the wound. The stink of burning flesh filled the air as Baltazar worked. Constan’s eyes snapped open, and he let out a scream. He struggled against Athos as the young Armenian kept him pinned so that Baltazar could finish the grizzly task.
Baltazar withdrew the blade from Constan, “Athos, it’s done. Let him go.” Athos, keeping Constan’s arms pinned, got off of him. He then let go of Constan’s arms and took a step back.
Constan looked at his shoulder and frowned, “What a ghastly sight. Guess I won’t be winning any beauty contests.” He chuckled at the joke, “Bring me some wine.”
“Sure, old man, I’ll be back,” Baltazar replied. Baltazar headed out the door to the fort’s kitchens. Usually, there were always a few cooks on duty even at this time of the night. They typically performed the tasks that were needed to prepare the kitchen for the first meal of the day. The other cooks usually woke up and began the morning meal two hours before sunrise.
Byzantium Infected Box Set Page 29
