“Aye, stay on ye toes men. It would be a crying shame if we lost any of ye within sight of our destination.” Constan added.
As he said the words, he looked around at the empty lands around them. Satisfied there were no hidden dangers. They marched on toward Joppa’s east gate. As they drew close to the city, the gates opened to them. Constan, astride Viribus, rode into the open gates first. He was followed by the rest of the mounted members of the 5th Babylon, and then the pitifully few surviving Skutatoi marching in column of twos behind the riders.
Athos turned to Athea and said, “We were two thousand strong when we left these gates in search of the true cross.”
Athea nodded, “Now we barely number a hundred.”
“I hope all the blood spilled for the cross was worth it.” Liana said.
Maarika, thinking of Nasir whispered, “It wasn’t.”
Kentarches Gregory took ahold of Viribus’ bridal with his hands, looked up at Constan and said, “Welcome back sir.”
“Thank ye Kentarches.” Constan said.
“When Damir’s men returned to restock their arrows, they told us about the horde. What happened?” Gregory asked.
“In short, they slew Damir and his men, and most of the rest of us.” Constan replied.
“I saw from the walls that three of the men carry a cross. ‘Tis it the True Cross?” Gregory asked.
Constan nodded wearily, “Aye the True Cross it is. Much blood was spilled obtaining it. Too much blood. Have ye anything to report?”
“No sir. It’s been quiet since Damir’s men left. We’ve kept the gates shut and the walls manned.”
Constan nodded in acknowledgement before asking, “Any signs of the damned?”
“No sir. At least none outside the walls. Every now and then the ones trapped in the buildings here in town must catch wind of us. You can hear them occasionally cry out. If they start banging, we let them out of their entrapment and slay them. The sound makes the men nervous, and there is little sense in allowing the bastards the chance to create mayhem by awaking others.”
“That’s understandable. That noise gets on me last nerve and ye are right about the risk. God knows when a horde will be wandering by. If the banging attracts them, we could easily lose the town. I did nae think of that when I gave me orders. Good thinking.”
Gregory smiled, “Thank you sir.”
“What of the ships?” Constan asked.
“They have remained tied to the pier, per orders, awaiting your return. The trierarches have the sailors out every day in the blazing sun scrubbing every surface of those ships. If you had been much longer, I fear they would have worn the wood down to the waterline with their endless cleaning, scrubbing, and polishing.” Gregory replied.
Constan chuckled, “Poor bastards.”
Gregory frowned, “I wouldn’t feel too bad for them. They got the better deal. I think I’d rather swab a deck then risk my life facing the damned.”
“A valid point Kentarches. Send a runner to the Twilight Storm. Tell Brizo, to prep the fleet to sail upon the tide on the ‘morrow.” Constan said.
“Yes, sir.” Gregory replied.
Gregory saluted and turned away from Constan. As he opened his mouth to speak to a nearby Dekanos, Constan said, “Ye mentioned that several buildings have been cleared because of the noise from the damned within. Have ye secured enough to give everyone a real bed tonight?” Constan asked.
Gregory turned back to Constan and said, “Yes sir. We have secured several of the inns.”
“I don’t suppose the inns ye secured had taverns attached to them by chance?” Constan asked.
“They did sir.” Gregory said.
“Interesting. What a fine coincidence.” Constan said.
Gregory steeled himself for a rebuke. His shoulder muscles tightened, his jaw clenched, and his eyes became downcast. Constan, placed a hand on Gregory’s shoulder and laughed at his reaction, “No worries. I would have done the same in ye place lad.”
Gregory visibly relaxed, turned back to the Dekanos and said, “See that the Tourmarches and the rest of the newcomers are given beds for the night.”
“Yes, sir.” The Dekanos replied.
Chapter 72
Mid-Morning, October 26th 636, Imperial Palace, Antioch, Syria Province, Byzantium
Emperor Heraclius
The 5th Babylon boarded the ships of the fleet the following morning. Sailing on the next tide, they arrived at port of Seleuciam the ensuing day. They spend a raucous night in Seleuciam. A night in which their energetic drunken debauchery would be remembered in admiration by the local residents for years to come.
Long after the sun rose the next morning, the 5th Babylon marched to Fort Arx in Antioch. Upon their arrival Constan sent word to the Emperor. Emperor Heraclius, busy with matters of state, agreed to see him the following morning.
That morning, they loaded the True Cross onto a wagon, and made their way across town to the Imperial Palace. The group mounted on horseback consisted of Constan, Athos, Hovig, and Baltazar. The wagon carrying the cross was driven by Jerry with Maarika sitting next to him.
The group was stopped on the white bridge that led across the river to the palace. Constan presented his orders to the two guards posted at the bridge. They silently read the order for several moments, and gazed intently at the seals. Satisfied that it was not a forgery, the guards searched the wagon to ensure there wasn’t anything nefarious hidden within. Satisfied that the group was harmless, the guards waved them on.
Arriving at the palace, after relieving them of their weapons, the next set of guards directed them to a side entrance to the throne room. Visible from the outside, the entrance had been cleverly concealed from within the throne room, so that large items could easily be brought in and out. Neither the Emperor or the members of court were in attendance as the group entered the large room.
As the servants and guards worked to move the True Cross into the room, Athos looked about. Memories of the nerve-wracking day he and Constan had spent in this palace came flooding back to him as his eyes slowly traced their way around the room. His gaze landed on the large double brass doors, Our lives changed the moment we walked through those doors. Whether for good or ill is about to be determined. Athos thought to himself.
Maarika openly gaped in wide eyed wonderment at the throne room. She kneeled down and touched the marble floor with her hand, it was cool to the touch. Pulling her gaze up from the floor, she looked at Constan and asked, “What is this floor made out of? The swirling patterns of gray set into the white stone are captivating.”
Constan, infected by Maarika’s wonderment, smiled and said, “It’s called marble lassie.”
“And the cloth hanging from the walls? They seem to show scenes of battle. What are they called?” Maarika asked.
“Tapestries.” Constan replied.
“What about those squiggles on the bottom of the tapestries. What do they say?” Maarika asked.
“The writing?” Constan asked. Maarika’s eyes followed his pointing finger and nodded, “Those are the names of the battle each tapestry depicts. Each of these tapestries, shows a scene from a battle. Battles that our Emperor Heraclius personally led our forces to victory in.”
“This Emperor of yours must be a great warrior.” Maarika said.
Wincing at Maarika’s words Constan, mindful of the guards and servants around them, said, “He is also your Emperor now, and yes he is a great warrior and general. The best ever in my opinion.”
They fell silent and watched as several servants worked to set the True Cross up in a golden base that had been specifically fashioned for it by the Empire’s finest gold smiths. As they put the finishing touches on the Cross, Vitalis entered the room. Seeing the group standing haphazardly around the cross he pursed his lips and said, “This will not due. This will not due at all.”
Constan, irritated at the chamberlain’s criticism, turned and with a frown on his face said, “Excuse me?�
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Vitalis raised his hand and shook his finger in the general direction of the group before replying in his high-pitched voice, “This haphazard gathering around the cross. You’re heroes, returning from the damned infested lands, in possession of the True Cross. When the Emperor and the court walk in, we need to have at least some degree of order, so that you do not detract from the cross itself.”
“What are you talking about?” Athos said.
“Would someone please silence the boy? He seems daft.” Vitalis said.
Angry, Athos took a step toward Vitalis before Constan and Baltazar grabbed his shoulders. Constan said, “Steady lad. Don’t let this trumped up popinjay bereft of manhood get ye dander up. Let it go.”
Athos took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He then put his hand on Constan’s, which still grasped his shoulder and said, “Yes sir.”
Constan turned to Vitalis and said, “As ye said, me boys have journeyed far, through the damned infested lands of Palestinia, to bring ye this Cross. Speak plainly and don’t insult them. Otherwise, I may not be able to stop them the next time they get the desire to slay ye with their bare hands if ye get me meaning.”
Vitalis swallowed hard and nodded, “My apologies Tourmarches. I meant no offense. It’s my job to ensure that you are presented well to the Emperor and the Court.”
“Fine, fine. What is it that ye need from us then?” Constan asked.
Vitalis raised his hand and placed his right index finger on his lips as he said, “Hmmmm.” He then snapped his fingers, “Your armor. It doesn’t match the color of the Cross’ base. The presentation is all wrong.”
Constan glanced down at his well-worn suit of lamellar. The plates had been infused with a gold colored metal, “They look plenty gold to me.”
“Not you.” Vitalis shook his finger toward Athos, Baltazar and the other men who wore dull gray hued chainmail, “Them.”
“That is the armor they were issued.” Constan said.
“Be that as it may, it does not match the color of the base, and therefore doesn’t present well.” Vitalis said.
Constan’s nostrils flared as he gruffly replied, “They are wearing the standard issue armor that has been given to the fighting men of Rome, for nigh on a thousand years! These men, heroes all, are the real foundation of the Empire. It will be good for the members of the court to see what real fighting men look like, battle scars and all, and not some trumped up fairy tale.”
As Constan roared in his face Vitalis took a step back, “Very well then. Since you feel so strongly about it, I guess it will have to do.”
“Ye damn right it will have to do!” Constan thundered, and then added in a nearly normal voice, “Where do ye want us to stand when the Emperor and the Court arrive?”
Vitalis raised his right hand and extended his fingers to rest on his chin as he thought. At the same time, he said, “Hmmm.” Pausing, he glanced over the group again and thought for another moment before speaking, “Constan I want you in the center of the aisle in front of the cross. To your right I want the Droungarios whatever your name is.”
“Hovig.”
“Yes, yes, Droungarios Hovig to your right, and the young Kentarches with the temper. Whatever your name was Ajax, Atlas-“
“Athos.”
“I want Athos on your left.” Vitalis turned to Maarika and said, “You’re really pretty, what are you doing here?”
“I fought with them to bring you this stupid piece of wood.” Maarika replied.
Vitalis’ mouth dropped opened at Maarika’s words, “Stupid piece of wood?” Vitalis raised his right hand and pointed a finger at Maarika as he opened his mouth Constan interrupted.
“She sacrificed a lot to bring the Emperor this cross, ye’d best just leave it. Otherwise she’ll be eating what’s left of ye manhood for supper. Trust me on this.”
Vitalis fumed but nodded in acknowledgement at Constan’s words, “Fine, fine. You there, girl, you should stand with the men to the Kentarches’ left. Having you up front will help with the Emperor’s initiative to bring women into the ranks.”
“How’s that going?” Constan asked.
“It’s not. The church and the older nobles are vehemently opposed. The fools would rather keep a death grip on their tradition and values than wake up and face reality. A grim reality that the Empire needs more warriors than it can field against the countless legions of the damned.” Turning to Jerry and Baltazar, Vitalis said, “You two Dekanoses. Each of you can stand to either side of the cross.”
One of the bronze doors opened and a guard stepped into the throne room, “The members of the court are ready to enter.”
“Very well.” Vitalis said, before clapping his hands and saying, “Places everyone! Remember to properly prostrate yourselves when the Emperor enters.”
“Prostrate?” Maarika asked.
“Just get down on your knees and put your forehead on the floor, when the Emperor enters.” Athos said.
“What? Why would we do that? That seems silly.” Maarika said.
“Just do what I do. Otherwise we’ll all end up in prison or worse by the end of the day.” Athos said.
Maarika’s forehead creased in consternation, “Very well. You Romans have odd habits. This one in particular seems stupid, but I’ll do it for my friends.”
They fell silent as the members of the court shuffled into the throne room. Steeling some glances, Athos noticed many new faces amongst the group, A lot of them were executed or fell to the damned the last time we were in here. Athos thought to himself. I hope we fare better than that lot this time around.
As Emperor Heraclius entered the throne room from the doorway behind the large golden throne, Vitalis tapped his staff three time on the floor. The echo reverberated throughout the room and all fell silent, “Presenting his Imperial Majesty Emperor of Rome Heraclius, God’s Viceroy upon earth and equal to the most holy Apostles that accompanied our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.”
Vitalis continued listing off Heraclius plethora of titles for a good minute before falling silent. Upon concluding, everyone in the throne room, including Vitalis and the guards, fell to their knees. The moment their knees touched the stone, everyone bent forward and touched their foreheads to the cold marble of the floor.
Emperor Heraclius, surrounded by two guards in golden armor, whose plates had been polished to a sheen, slowly tottered into the room. When he reached his throne, he raised his hand, palm facing toward the sky, and said, “You may rise my children.”
The moment the command was given, Athos raised his head and looked upon the Emperor. The old man’s eyes had sunk deeply into his skull, and had black rings underneath them. His skin hung loosely on his bones like dry and brittle parchment, or leather that had sat in the sun far too long. His pallor was a light gray. My God. He looks terrible. Almost damned like in his appearance. News of Fabia’s death must have hit the old man particularly hard. Athos thought to himself as he came to his feet.
As soon as the Emperor had seated himself upon his golden throne, Vitalis, banged his staff into the floor three more times and said, “My Emperor, Tourmarches Constan, and his valiant men have returned from the damned infested lands of Palestinia Province. They were successful in the holy mission that you most wisely bestowed upon them.”
Irritated, Heraclius said, “I can see that plainly enough Vitalis. These old eyes still work well enough.” The Emperor’s voice was raspy and weak.
“My apologies your Imperial Majesty.” Vitalis responded.
Ignoring Vitalis, Emperor Heraclius met Constan’s gaze and said, “Tourmarches, I can see that putting my faith in you was well founded. Your success is evident. How fared the men of the 5th Babylon? Did many survive your quest?”
“Not well your Imperial Highness. Though the men performed brilliantly and overcame horrific odds, success came at a great cost. A great cost indeed.” Constan replied.
“How many fell?” Emperor Heraclius asked.
> “Out of the thirty-five hundred that marched out of Antioch’s gates, barely two hundred survive.” Constan replied.
“A high butcher’s bill indeed. What befell you?” The Emperor asked.
“Fonda befell us your Imperial Majesty.” Constan said.
“The damned Queen that attacked you at Damascus?” Emperor Heraclius asked.
Constan nodded, “The very same.”
“How did she know you had taken ship to Palestinia and landed over a hundred miles to her rear?” Emperor Heraclius asked.
Constan shrugged his shoulders and said, “It’s a mystery sire. Best we can figure, she can see through all damned eyes.”
“It seems that despite this surprise you managed to outwit her and bring me the cross.” Emperor Heraclius said.
“Aye your Imperial Majesty.” Constan said.
“Tell me, how did you do it?”
“It started with a surprise early autumn thunderstorm. We landed in Joppa just ahead of a storm. We had to fight our way ashore to tie off the boats before the storm arrived or many of the boats would have been lost.” Constan said.
“An inauspicious start.” Emperor Heraclius murmured.
“The next day we marched out of the city and Damir spotted a horde to our east. Using his riders, he was able to lure them away. This enabled us to double time our infantry past the horde which was being drawn off to the north. Despite the cost of twenty percent of his command, Damir was successful in drawing them off. Once he had them at a safe distance from the infantry, he broke contact with the horde.” Constan said.
Emperor Heraclius signaled with his hand and a servant appeared from the shadows with a goblet of wine. He took a sip and told the servant, “Give each of my warriors a cup.” He then looked up and made eye contact with Constan, “Continue Tourmarches. What happened next?”
“Damir’s men had exhausted their arrow supply, so I sent them back to Joppa and the ships to restock while the infantry continued to march east toward Jerusalem.” Constan said.
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