As they did so, Constan smiled and said, “Come on ye bastards, let’s dance.”
Both of the damned snarled, bared their teeth at Constan, and then charged him. Decades of training enabled him to react instantly to the two-pronged attack. He brought his Spatha down on the head of the opponent on his right. At the same moment the creature on his left slammed into him. They fell back into the river. Constan landed on his back and crashed into the river bottom. Despite landing in soft mud, the weight of the armored damned on top of him, forced the air out of his lungs.
As Constan’s head broke the surface, the smell of its breath, fetid, foul, and reeking of death washed over Constan, as yellow and black teeth reached for his neck. This is how I die. He thought to himself.
He closed his eyes and braced for the feel of sharp teeth on the soft flesh of his neck. Several seconds passed. Why am I not being eaten? Is the damned tormenting me? Is this one like Fonda? He decided to open his eye and see what was happening. The leering visage of the damned was mere inches from his face. Its gaping maw now held the tip of Athos’ Spatha.
“Thank God, Jesus, and the Apostles, for ye lad!” Constan exclaimed.
Athos smiled down at Constan, “You’re welcome.”
With Baltazar’s help, Athos rolled the armored damned off of Constan and helped him to his feet. “Are you bit?” Baltazar asked, the concern evident in his eyes.
Constan shook his head, “Nay. Though I deserved it, running off like that without support.”
“Not to mention your bellowing alerting every damned in the valley that a meal was running down the shoreline.” Athos said.
“You basically rang the dinner bell. Unholy spawns of Satan, I’m juicy, slow, and daft. Come eat me!” Baltazar jibed good naturedly.
Constan’s cheeks burned as his cheeks flushed scarlet at his two subordinate’s words, “Aye, right ye are. I just couldn’t bare the loss of another of me lads. Not like this. Falling in battle is one thing. It’s what we Skutatoi have been trained to do. In fact, it’s what we are meant to do. Though never easy on those of us that survive, at least it was with purpose. Drowning while crossing a river.” Constan’s voice trailed off as he began sobbing.
Athos embraced Constan and held him while the grief flowed from the older man’s his shaking body. When Athos felt Constan’s waves of grief subside, he broke the embrace and said, “Losing Damon has saddened us all, but we must move on. There are still seven of us left to get safely to Antioch.”
Constan nodded his head in agreement, “Aye lad right ye are. I feel like such an old fool carrying on like this.”
Athos smiled at Constan and said, “Old fool you may be, but you’re our old fool. Not to mention you are the best chance we have of reaching Antioch on our own two feet and not in the pit of some damned’s stomach.”
Constan chuckled at Athos’ words, “Aye lad, let’s reunite with the ladies and Nasir and be off. Only one set of mountains lay between us, and the means to escape this unholy calamity.”
The three men set off westward in the direction that the other four members of their party lay. A few minutes into the journey a form spied them from just below the surface of the water. Wracked with hunger, he stayed unmoving until the three men passed. Concealed by the roar of the fast-flowing river, he approached the three men from behind.
The smell of living flesh overwhelmed his senses. Unable to contain himself any longer he began running toward his quarry. Athos, Baltazar, and Constan chatted amiably as they walked toward the remainder of their part. They recounted tales of Damon and his gas to distract their minds from the fact that he was gone.
He chose the one with the silvery hair as his target and started to run. Baltazar noticed movement in the corner of his eye right as the damned figure barreled into the back of Constan’s legs. Reacting quickly Baltazar grabbed the damned by the back of his shirt, it was a Kentarches tunic, and yanked the snarling creature off of Constan before it had a chance to bite him.
As Constan scrambled away, Baltazar dropped the squirming damned and started to draw his Spatha. As he did so, the damned rolled over and quickly jumped to its feet, “Damon!” Baltazar shouted in dismay.
Their former friend’s eyes were milky white, and his skin had taken on a grey pallor. Unlike other damned they had encountered, there was no outward evidence of trauma. As Baltazar raised his Spatha to strike, Damon’s left hand shot out and grabbed Baltazar’s sword arm. Damon snarled as Baltazar squawked in surprise from the unexpected move. Damon’s right arm reached out and grabbed Baltazar’s shoulder. Baltazar tried to resist but Damon’s undead form was to strong.
Damon’s teeth began clicking in anticipation of feasting upon living flesh, as he slowly drew Baltazar toward his maw. Baltazar looked into Damon’s pupil less eyes, as the sound of Damon’s clicking teeth drew ever nearer. As Damon craned his neck to reach forward and bite Baltazar, the point of a Spatha erupted from his forehead and sprayed him with purple blood. Damon’s grip on Baltazar instantly relaxed as he fell to the ground, forever dead.
Constan, making his way to his feet, looked down in horror at the corpse of Damon and began crying. Athos and Baltazar tried to comfort the older man as he openly sobbed. Rage began to build up within him and he looked up at the sky and yelled, “Why God, why? Wasn’t it enough that I lost him? Ye had to bring him back to feast upon me as well?
As the three worked to bury the corpse of their friend they were reunited with the others who had walked down the riverbank to meet them. Athos, trying to get Constan’s head out of the dark place it had sank into turned to him and asked, “What are your orders sir?”
“Let’s turn north toward the mountains and make camp as soon as we are within their shelter. It will be dark within the hour. Though I know ye are all tired, I don’t think making our camp here beside this accursed river is a good idea. It is too exposed, and the noise of this water will make it difficult for our watch to hear the approach of anybody, or anything.”
They set off north toward the line of mountains before them, Constan in the lead. Within the hour the immense towering mounds of stone loomed over them as they carefully picked their way through the rock strew path. The group continued to walk into the darkness until they entered a small pass that wove its way in-between two mountains. The large edifices of stone seemed to grow in size as the rising moon caused their shadows to lengthen. For the companions the world became a combination silvery moonlight and deep shadows.
It wasn’t long before the weary group of travelers happened upon a cave. Despite everyone’s exhaustion over the events of the day, coupled with their long travels, Athos and Baltazar took the time to ensure that the cavern was secure. They drew their Spathas and felt their way along opposite walls to confirm that no unforeseen assailants lurked in the rear of the cave.
While the pair did this, the rest of the group fanned out and gathered fuel for a fire. The area didn’t offer much in the way of combustible materials. The small quantities of fuel that were located consisted of dead bushes, brambles, and brown grasses.
With the cavern secured and the fuel gathered, it wasn’t long before they had a warm fire blazing within the cave. They set their bread by the fire upon stones that they had collected. This helped the bread to warm without burning it. The ate in silence each deep within their thoughts. Constan’s thoughts dwelled on the loss of Damon.
Athos, worried about Constan, kept a close eye on the old warrior. Just as he was starting to regain some of his confidence as a leader, we lost Damon. Is this the final blow? Will he refuse to lead us? Athos mulled this thought over in his mind as the minutes and then hours ticked by. His mind remained too busy to enable him to slip into blissful slumber. Each group member took their turn at watch. Luckily for the exhausted travelers, the evening passed uneventfully.
Chapter 49
Morning, October 9th 636, Lebanon Mountains, Syria Province, Byzantium
Antioch
Exhausted, the grou
p continued to sleep several hours into the morning. They awoke in the midmorning to the light of the sun, shining into their eyes through the cave opening. Well rested and in better spirits, they broke their fast, and set off toward Antioch.
For several hours they followed the winding path that they had stumbled on the night before. As it wove its way through the difficult terrain consisting of parched rocky and barren hills, it took them slowly upward for several hours. Calf muscles burning from the uphill slog, they crested what seemed like the thousandth steep rise that day. Their breath was taken away by the sight they beheld.
Below them they could clearly see the remainder of the mountain chain as it stretched off to the north. The sharp and jagged peaks laid out before them, mainly consisted of a red-brown color and appeared mostly devoid of life. Off to their left they could see a thin blue ribbon on the horizon, but the sight that stole everyone’s breath was a small white square situated next to a river on the edge of the northern horizon. Constan pointed and said, “Antioch.”
Maarika pointed off to their left and asked, “What’s that thin blue ribbon on the horizon?”
Nasir smiled as he answered, “The Mare Nostrum.”
Maarika said, “I don’t understand. My Greek isn’t that good, but even with my limited understanding of the language the feel of those words seems different. As if it were another language entirely.”
It was Constan’s turn to smile, “Right ye are lass, Mare Nostrum is words from a language called Latin. The language I grew up speaking in Thrace. It was the language of the Roman Empire’s founders.”
Baltazar slapped Constan on the back and quipped, “Its why his Greek sounds so archaic.”
“I bet ye can’t speak Latin as well as I can speak Greek lad.” Constan said in a huff.
“What does Mare Nostrum mean exactly?” Maarika asked.
“Our sea.” Nasir said.
Constan took a deep breath and launched into a longer explanation, “Though it isn’t entirely ours these days. Many hundreds of years ago, the Empire stretched all the way from the Euphrates River in Babylon westward to the Pillars of Hercules. All of the lands between those points was controlled by Empire and ruled from Rome. In-between all of those lands was a body of water called the Middle Sea. When the last bit of land that touched the sea was conquered, the name of the Middle Sea, morphed into Mare Nostrum, or our sea.”
They walked in silence for a time admiring the breathtaking beauty of the rugged terrain around them. Constan continued to lead them down the small winding path. As he did so, the women talked excitedly about the marvels that they would be able to see and purchase in Antioch.
The men mainly kept silent and thought about all of the wine and food that would be theirs. At least most of the men did. Constan on the other hand, thought about the companionship that his full purse would buy him in one of the finer brothels Antioch had to offer.
As Constan thought about his favorite bawdy house in the city, his manhood began to stir. He glanced around to see if anyone had noticed, I’m glad none of the ladies noticed my stirring, especially Maarika. I don’t know how the lass would take it. I wonder if she would be interested in an old soldier? Constan’s mind paused for several moments as the ramifications of his last thought sank in. God forgive me, I shouldn’t think such vile and sinful thoughts. She and Nasir are truly in love. Love like theirs is rare indeed. I mustn’t get in the way of that.
They lost sight of Antioch as the path took them, over time, through many ups and downs, lower and lower. Maarika, who in her eagerness to reach the city was walking upfront beside Constan instead of with Nasir asked, “How much further until we reach the city?”
Constan looked over at Maarika and smiled, “If we can keep this pace, perhaps three hours, lass.”
“Will the agora still be open when we arrive?” Maarika asked.
Constan glanced up at the sun and said, “Aye, though it will be late in the afternoon. A few of the vendors may still be open for business.”
The hours passed slowly as Constan regaled the ladies with tales of Antioch. In time, the path brought them to the base of a large mountain, “Mons Silpius.” Constan said.
Constan continued to lead them on the path which slowly wound its way to the top of Mount Silpius. As they reached the top, they noticed a gray haze on both the western and northern horizons. The path weaved its way onto a plateau in-between the two dual peaks of the mountain. Large boulders and other rocks surrounded the path on either side. The plateau looked as if a giant had smashed an immense hammer upon a huge bolder breaking it into thousands of pieces that varied in size.
“Are we close?” Maarika asked. Her voice tinged with eagerness.
Her excitement brought a smile to Constan’s face, “Aye, we’re close.”
Upon hearing this news, the group quickened their pace. It only took them a few minutes to make their way across the plateau. Reaching the other side, they came to a stop as they admired the view. Just below, stretched out before them, lay the city of Antioch.
Antioch, was surrounded by a series of walls that divided it into three sections. The walls themselves seem to be constructed from white stone of some type. The city sat in a narrow river valley between two mountain ranges. It was mostly nestled between the southernmost mountain range and the Orontes River. On the norther side of the town, the river split into two branches which created a natural island. Upon that island sat an immense palace.
Maarika pointed to the largest building and asked, “What is that long rectangular building? The brown one over there by the palace”
“The Circus.” Constan replied.
Maarika looked at him quizzically, confusion evident on her face. Nasir smiled and said, “The Circus is where the chariot races take place.”
“And that large oval building on the southern side of town?” Maarika asked.
Nasir looked over at Constan and shrugged his shoulders. Constan caught the look, smiled at Nasir, and answered Maarika’s question, “The amphitheater. Where the gladiators used to fight. With the falling away of the old religions, people became less blood thirsty, so the games fell out of favor. As a result, use of the amphitheaters throughout the empire have declined. Today they sit empty, little more than large reminders of a more brutal past. The priests would have us believe that such brutality was the sign of less enlightenment. That our pagan forefathers were less sophisticated than we are somehow. Based on what I saw of some of the ancient monuments when I was on campaign in Italy, I have my doubts about this. These days the people are mad for chariot races held in the Circus.”
They continued walking along the path and Antioch disappeared from view. They walked for several minutes. All were excited to see the marvels of the city, but especially Maarika. Imprisoned from the moment of her arrival in Damascus, this was her first opportunity to see a living metropolis.
As the road curved to the south, two hills, with difficult and broken terrain, began to grow to either side of them. The hills blocked their view of the city below. Like all the hills of this range, they consisted of jagged rocks of a red brown coloration, interrupted by the occasional tuft of green and brown grasses. They kept up a brisk pace, and it wasn’t long before the two hills fell away. Within a few minutes, the white walls of Antioch loomed above them.
Embedded within the walls was a large archway. The archway was flanked by two guards, one on either side. Behind them loomed two very large wooden doors. Perhaps twenty feet in height. Both of the doors stood open, welcoming travelers into the city.
Constan pointed and said, “The Ferrea gate. Let me do the talking.”
As they approached the gate the two guards left their posts on either side and stood in the middle, spears at their sides. The two men wore matching uniforms over their chainmail breast plate. The uniform was a white sleeveless tunic, and was emblazoned with the symbol of Emperor Heraclius in black. The symbol consisted of a cross whose three points ended in vertical lines on the t
wo sides, and a horizontal line on the top.
The guard on the right held up his left-hand palm forward and said, “Halt travelers, what business do you have in the city.”
Constan stepped forward in front of the group and said, “We are refugees from Damascus, come to seek shelter within the city.”
The guard, looked at Constan, and immediately picked up on his rigid military, bearing. Most especially he took note of the military issue, Spatha, resting comfortably on Constan’s left hip. The man’s eyes slowly scanned the rest of the group behind Constan, noting the fact that the three men, also wore military issue Spathas. Even the females wore weapons. All except the swarthy dark-haired beauty. She seemed to have nothing more lethal than a dagger slung on her hip.
As the guard scanned the group Constan thought nervously to himself. Why is he looking at us so hard?
Finishing his inspection, the guard turned to Constan and said, “Though some of you could be refugees.” He made eye contact with Maarika, and smiled as he said this, “The majority of you, carry army issued swords. That leaves me two possibilities to consider. You’re really bandits who slit the throats of some of our soldiers in their sleep, and stole their weapons, or you’re actual soldiers trying to pass yourself off as hapless refugees. Which is it?”
Constan sighed audibly as he let out a deep breath, “The later, we’re the last survivors of the 5th Parthica. I’m Tourmarches Constan, this is Kentarches Athos, and Dekanoses Nasir and Baltazar.”
The two men, stiffened and stood up straighter at this revelation, “How do I know that you speak the truth? You could be bandits trying to pass yourself off as soldiers to gain admittance to the city. After all I don’t know many soldiers that travel with armed women in tow, or claim to be part of the Damascus Tourma, yet carry shields from the Imperial Tagmata.”
Byzantium Infected Box Set Page 71
