Near Bucharest 1098
The road towards the Bucharest had been swift and organised. Apionnas's heavy cavalry had initially struck out ahead of the two Militia spear regiments, leaving markers for the them to follow. Once the terrain had clear Apionnas had halted to rest his regiments mounts and had waited for the militia units to catch up so he could direct them towards the town as his scouts had planned. The cross country route was a risk but they had made good time and were now within a year of their destination.
It was here that things changed. He had moved away from his unit to meet with the two militia captains, both men and their second-in-commands where now approaching on foot at a brisk pace, a fifth man another 10 yards behind them. The tension in their movements alerted Apionnas that something was not as it should have been.
At fifty yards all five men drew their swords, the sun shone dully from their blades.
Glancing past the approaching militia men, he could see that both regiments had halted some half a mile away in clear view. It seemed as if the whole incident was going to be a spectacle somewhat like a gladiator duel.
So be it though Apionnas, their intentions are clear.
The composite bow he always carried suddenly appeared in his hand. Turning his horse ninety degrees he drew aim over his right shoulder.
Before the militia men had taken a further step one dropped suddenly, a gurgling sound the only noise that could be heard. With another flash, a second arrow shaft protruded from the body of the largest man, the barb had bitten deep, and the victim pitched forward without a sound.
They spread into a concave skirmish line. The flanks were circling, closing, the sun catching on their blades.
Then there was two. The crack of an arrow head impacting on skull shattered the distance between them. Eyes wobbled unnaturally, and the central figure in the group sank slowly to his knees. In those seconds, while the survivors faltered Apionnas pressed home. Casting his bow aside he stepped down from his horse and advanced on the left most man.
Steel clashed. He danced back, coaxing, chiding. Enraged, the militia man came in pursuit, striking out, forgetting himself, his eyes and muscles straining with exertion. He had been chosen for a reason. Apionnas feinted, parried and lunged. The militia man blocked with a flick of his wrist and a circling of his blade. He was good, but the sand held in Apionnas's hand blinded him and the following kick to the groin had its desired effect. Wiping sand from his eyes he shouted with rage, staggering forward. He overreached. With a side step Apionnas let him pass, aided his journey with a dagger thrust to the stomach, a beheading while he fell.
In desperation and a strange fatalism, the surviving militia man did not give up. Crouched low he focused on his defence. Apionnas wiped his scimitar on the breaches of his headless victim and tested the grip in his palm. Damascus steel possessed an appetite. He smiled respectfully at his opponent and spoke to him in Arabic.
'Your companions are dead. Surrender or face your God.'
His offer was declined, its rejection answered by a frenzied sword. With a sway of his waist and a billow of his Mansuriyya blue robe, the militia man was dispatched with a single blow.
All five down.
Mounting his horse he galloped towards the militia regiments. Behind him came the rest of his unit. Reigning in the white stallion bred entirely for hunting and war the Saracen looking officer, now in the employ of the Basileus himself, raised his voice.
'It seems as if there were some concerns with my appointment.'
Silence and a shiver of fear through the ranks was the only response.
'I hope I've answered those concerns and eased your fears over everything that is troubling you...if any of you wish to speak now is the time.'
Silence.
'Excellent. I'm glad there are no further issues.'
Glancing at his own captain, he nodded at the militia regiments. 'Select new captains, and make sure they are more reliable than the last.'
Bookmarks