Stories Thread

[Smowz]

Rhodes 1084:

Nevoulas ek Philadelphuis and his bodyguard are camped outside the main settlement on the island. He had been dismayed at the state of the once great island of Rhodas and whilst they had a useful fortification that himself and Ioannis Kalematros were now besieging the rest of the island looked underdeveloped and neglected.

He had heard fantastic stories of a huge Colossus that once stood on the shore facing Asia Minor defiantly and magnificent centres of learning and trade. Now this mixed race island seemed to have lost their way – from what he could see there were many isolated communities all over the island lacking direction or centralisation. It disgusted him and reminded him very much of Anatolia back in his teenage years, the horrors of those times still taxed Nevoulas greatly.

He recalls the times he had spent as a young teen roaming from town to town western Anatolia. It was a difficult time for young Nevoulas, who was shocked at the completely small minded naivety of the peoples who populated these towns. They would have the cheek to call themselves Romans but freely frolicking in barbarian ways, mixing and frolicking with all manners of colours and creeds.

Time after time Nevoulas was turned away from administrators and governors who seemed more interested in decadence then matters of the state. The mention of the battle of Manzikert had got me sharp looks for sure from the local residents, but they regarded it as something far removed from them. I could not believe their passive feelings toward what was surely such an important event. Even worse my funds began to run dry, my loyal servants and even myself had to scrape together finding work wherever we could find it. It was a difficult life and whilst it would harden me into the man I was today, there was no doubt I was living the life of a peasant back then.

I would work my way eastwards across Anatolia in this manner and eventually I would pick up tidbits of information here and there about the aftermath of the battle of Manzikert. I had been able to realise at least that many of the survivors had been taken prisoner by the Seljuk’s including the emperor himself. It had surprised me further to learn that some of these prisoners had been released and some had settled in Trebizond. I had mixed emotions at the news, I knew now a place I had to get to, to get hard quality information. After several months of picking up hearsay here and there it was a relief to have such a solid lead. But already questions were forming in my mind, why were loyal soldiers just ‘settling’ surely they were now deserters? What of the others, what price had these ‘settlers’ had to pay for their release?

Nevoulas shakes his head clear of questions from his past that he has long since answered as he hears some commotion up ahead. It is yet another attempt from the from some locals to travel through the blockade towards the cities. It is quite blatant that they are attempting to carry food through to the people held up within. They look confused as the bodyguards relieve them of their wares, unaccustomed to the ways of a rudimentary siege warfare it seems. He cannot believe the foolishness of these people, feeling almost pity for them he moves over to inspect the goods, looking forward to fresh feed. The long siege of Rhodes continues.

[Smowz]

Rhodes 1086:

The siege continues, Nevoulas ek Philadelphuis and his bodyguards are beginning to find the going tough as stubborn resistance fighters continue to hold up inside their fortifications. Isolated out here on Rhodes and now its seems supplies are beginning to dwindle. Nevoulas and his guards have been allowing the commander and his troops access to the prime foraging spots, the thin pickings elsewhere has led to the men beginning to use up some of the surplus supplies.

Despite this mood remains spirited, the close relations better Nevoulas and Ioannis Kalematros is helping and both the young strators are excited by news of conquests elsewhere in the empire. Indeed the two have been discussing a great many things of Imperial ways in particular the politics.

Nevoulas I fear your shy and retiring ways will not gain you much currency in the senate

Nevoulas frowns, this has been a familiar topic of Ioannis and he has been pressing Nevoulas about his lack of involvement in the Senatorial discussions in the last couple of chats they have had.

Like I have said Ioannis I preferred to keep quiet on the floor of the senate last time, I believe much energy was wasted by some strators venting nothing but hot air. I prefer to watch and wait…

Nevoulas watches Ioannis as he steps up and grabs the jug of wine and pours deliberately into Ioannis cup…. Nevoulas knows that Ioannis is not satisfied with this answer and sure enough…

Come now Nevoulas, now that I have come to know you better, you have a far greater understanding you let on and beneath that quiet exterior is a deeply thoughtful and passionate fellow. You have spoken of your pride of your position in the senate but you sat there as timid as a mouse. Sorry to be hard on you here but if you have a story to tell lets hear it.

Nevoulas heart flickers, his past is not really something he wishes to reveal to anyone he is unsure that he can trust. However the long siege has enabled him to get to know Ioannis really well and he is certain he can be trusted.

My friend you have been pressing me about this for days you are correct I do have a story and I do wish to get it off my chest if you have the time and the patience to listen to me tale.

Ioannis lets a satisfied grin appear on his face. He says

You and I have plentiful wine and this siege isn’t going anywhere tell me what troubles you so about the politics of the imperial world…

Nevoulas takes a large gulp of wine

Have you heard of a place called Trebizond, it is deep in the heart of Anatolia…

Trebizond 1076

My long travels across Anatolia had brought me to this point. I was about to enter through the gates of Trebizond. I had decided that if I could find no further information about the fate of my brother I would now turn back home. I was entering my 16th year and it was occurring to me that my mother had been left to run our modest estate near Athens for some time now and I was beginning to realise that there truly was nothing but desperation awaiting me at every turn on this godforsaken land mass.

I had seen several disturbing things in my times travelling, I was increasingly appalled at the apathy of Roman citizens and their simple surrender to incoming settling tribes. Waves upon waves of Turkish immigrants were moving in and seizing neglected lands and settling in the areas. No-one seemed in the slightest bit bothered that these people were here illegally and encroaching on rightful Roman land. Landowners seemed content just simply to pick up sticks and retreat to townships.

Upon entering Trebizond I was now no longer surprised by the distinctly un-Roman feel to the place. After a few days of starting to ask around about the whereabouts of soldiers from the battle of manzikert, I was pointed in the direction of a fairly well to do district of the city. Here, I would have the luck to meet a man who was a member of my father’s century and whilst the fellow did not know my father or brother personally he could get me an audience with the governor of Trebizond who had given much support for the great battle.

As I wandered around the district I would meet more veterens of the battle of Manzikert, these men I regarded with mixed feelings – I knew them to be contempliaries of my father and many looked tough war hardened soldiers. But their seemingly care-free manner bothered me, did they have no concern for the empire. My mind was full of questions and I resolved to get the answers. But every time I started a line of questioning I would be waved away or shouted down. It seemed my young years and fresh face gained no currency with these would be deserters. Perhaps I thought I would get the information I sought from the governer.

I walked into his dwelling with anger and bile swelling through my veins, therefore I was taken aback by his friendly nature. ‘Young Philadelphius’ he said ‘Your father was indeed a great warrior, I miss him greatly. It pleases me so that you would join me at my court’. I was taken aback by this, I wondered what to say I had come to his palace full of questions but I realised after spending some days in the mans company again I would have to bide my time as the governor would repeatedly bat away my questions.

Ioannis would interrupt me here…

So you do not stand up to say anything for you fear no-one will listen he says

That in part may be true I reply but it is what happened next, which is why I choose to keep a more reserved counsel. Nevoulas replies

Anyway here I was now because of the governors respect for my father I was accepted at his court. I thought if I stuck around and gained in influence I may come across a veteran who would give me the answers I sought.

Things came to a head at an emergency counsal meeting when news of a large Seljuk army would be approaching the city. This was my first experience of senatorial type politics and I assure you Ioannis I was anything but quiet then.

It was a gathering of the best of the veterans certainly nowhere near as grandiouse as the Magneura but close enough for a boy of 17 years as I was by this time.

I recall lamenting the veterens, laying into their laziness and apathetic attitude towards imperial matters. They wished to barter a peaceful solution with the Turks, I asked why make a stand, there must be armies back closer to home that can be brought forward to chase off these fiends. They would laugh at my niaviety. Later the governer explained that these men no longer were bothered or had any faith in matters from the Capitol, in fact he had said neither did he. I looked in shock, I was seeing the complete break down of the empire in these parts

Nether-the-less the next day it seemed as if my words had caused some inspiration as 2/3 of the veterens would show up in full battle gear and were fully prepared to fight. It was as if my enthuisiasm had turned back the clock for these men and had reminded them of their duty and Roman pride.

Ioannis was looking more eager now… interrupted again


You have fought against the Seljuk Turks!!! he exclaimed Nevoulas I am impressed

Ioannis there is more to say Nevoulas looks sadly as much as I wished this to be an inspirational moment, it is a time I look back on with deep regret, my lustful battlecries had just signed away many men’s death.

I don’t understand he says

SIRS an excited bodyguard enters the tent We have message from the mainland…

I will explain another time Ioannis Nevoulas says to Ioannis, to which Ioannis nods thoughtfully.

[OverKnight]

A cooperative story by TheFlax and myself.

Thrace, 1083

A plain carriage escorted by a few men sped through the Thracian countryside, making good time on the uneven dirt road. The reunion with her father would soon be upon her as she had been assured they would arrive before apodeipnon. The eleventh hour had passed some time ago and as the minutes trickled by, she found herself increasingly nervous. It had been some time since she had last been in the presence of her father, and while she loved him dearly, she feared his disapproval more than anything else. The carriage slowed down, bringing her out of her contemplation. It was a sure sign they were nearing her father's camp.

Anna and her retinue came upon the camp of her Father as the sun was nearing the horizon. Squinting, she could see the Imperial banner flying over the Basileus' pavillion, the first structure raised when the army had stopped for the night. The camp was abuzz with activity, though the soldiers in it were a motley band. Archers from the standing army worked alongside militia from the city guard of the capital as they set up camp. A unit of peasants stood idly by, strangers to the campaigning life. As she watched, a large man, a Varangian by his dress and blond hair, approached them and began yelling at them in accented Greek. The serfs scurried about and began to dig the ditch and embankment that would surround the camp.

Having put the peasants to work, the Varangian, clad in scale mail with a massive two handed ax strapped to his back, turned to the new arrivals.

Bowing his head, he spoke to her, "Ah Princess Anna, the Basileus has been expecting you from Miklagard. I'm Captain Harald Sigurdsson, leader of his bodyguard."

Anna simply nodded to the man.

"Head up to your Father's tent, I'm sure he wishes to speak to your Highness right away."

Anna found Aleksios huddles over a map table with his subordinates. In the field, the ornate wear of the court was stripped away and he was dressed as a soldier, though with exquisite armor and fine leather boots. A purple cloak, the color of royalty, was the only indication of his rank.

Looking up from the map, the Basileus noticed the entry of his daughter, "Gentlemen, you are dismissed, I need to speak with my daughter alone. We will discuss tomorrow's march later."

The men filed out and the Basileus approached the Princess.

As her father neared her, Anna bowed curtly. "As per your wishes father, I came in diligent haste."

Aleksios embraced her, "It is good to see you Anna. I hope the trip from Constantinople was without trouble?"

Anna returned the embrace, "It was uneventful, if a bit uncomfortable."

Aleksios grunted, "Be grateful you are still in Thrace, the roads in other parts of the Empire have degraded to the point of being non-existent. Yet another decline we will have to address."

The Basileus motioned his daughter to a seat and sat down opposite of her. A small smile crossed his face.

"Of course, you do have first hand experience of this. How was your trip to Cyprus?"

So, he would start with Cyprus. Very well, Anna thought, there is nothing to hide about that. Of course, she would avoid the topic of Makedonios until her father brought it up.

"The trip went well, the sea was calm enough and Cyprus is under good governance. The population seems content, I forsee no problems coming from that province. If you wish it father, I will put my observations on paper for you to review at your leisure."

Aleksios raised an eyebrow.

"Ah. . .how uneventful. Perhaps you could then enlighten me as to why Makedonios Ksanthopoulos has written to me and asked for your hand in marriage?"

She shrugged. "He is not the first, is he?"

Aleksios laughed, genuinely amused.

"No, he is not. However, he is the Master of what is essentially an armed order of Monks. He'd be violating his newly established laws by marrying you. You must have made quite an impression."

The amusement passed, and the Basileus spoke more seriously.

"Anna, I have given you some leeway in who you would choose as a husband. I have not dictated who you should wed. However, you are the daughter of an Emperor. Your actions are watched, your companions noted and men will vie for your attention. Some do so because they are moved by attraction, others power or both. Your behavior, fairly or not, reflects on all the Komnenoi and the Throne itself. If you show a preference to one House, others will assume that I favor that House. Our family is new to the Purple, if we upset the balance too much, we might find ourselves sharing the fate of Nicephorus.

"I ask you to tread with care among the Bachelors of the Empire."

She paused an instant, taking in fully her father's words.

"I have tried to please them all equally father. I will not hide my feelings from you, if I had to choose a husband at this instant, it would be Makedonios. Yet, I maintain a facade of interest for the others, even those I profoundly dislike. I have not forgotten my role as your daughter."

Aleksios sighed, "Of course not. Though I am not overjoyed to hear this about Makedonios. I'm not sure if his venture into the Levant will end well for the Empire as a whole. Even if you did marry him, that marriage would negate any hold we would have over the Order, as according to its laws he would lose his leadership. We would lose a Grandmaster and gain, at best, a Comes.

"Perhaps you think this cold hearted? There is always a political component to marriage at our rank. If I had not married your Mother, a Doukas, I would still be a Strategos. I needed their support to gain the Throne, and my marriage to Irene secured that. Your Brother has forged a House from that alliance. Marriages are the currency and contracts of the Nobility.

"The day may come when you will be asked to do the same for our family. For the Komnenoi to establish a dynasty, we need to do more than just rule well, we must bind the nobility to us. Marriage is part of that."

Aleksios looked stern, but sympathy played along his features as well, "Do you understand?"

Anna hid her dissappointment at being still treated as a child under a veneer of meekness. "Yes father, I will do my duty and marry the man you choose. Our Lord has given us each a destiny, if that is mine, then I shall be content with it."

The Basileus' mouth quirked and he rubbed his forehead.

"Of course, but do not worry. Any marriage will not be for some time. As soon as you choose someone to wed, the other, spurned suitors might resent our family, might even plot against us. As long as you remain unwed, this will not happen.

"As long as there is hope that they might woo you, they will strive to do so, and that will be to our benefit. They will be on their best behavior and they might even share some secrets with you in an effort to impress."

Anna's expression quickly changed to disbelief.

"But... father! I am fast passing the proper age to be wed... and still you wish to wait?"

A flash of exasperation crossed Aleksios's face.

"It will happen soon enough. But first, I need your assistance on another matter. Both the Senate and myself agree that the Empire must expand to the west and east, our traditional lands. To secure our northern flank while this happens, I feel it would be best to reach an alliance with the Hungarians. Our diplomatic corp is sadly understaffed, yet I must send someone to whom they will listen, whose presence will honor them and who is talented in diplomacy and negotiation."

The Basileus smiled, "Someone like you, my dear."

She simply nodded "Then I leave at the first hour of hemera, tomorrow. What are the terms you wish me to convey?"

Aleksios replied, "Trade, alliance and an exchange of maps will do. I hope that the Barabarians will be so overawed by our offer that you'll be able to have them pay for the privliege, but make the best deal you can."

The Basileus shook his head ruefully.

"It pains me that the Empire has to stoop to this, but we must face facts, we are not what we once were. In time perhaps, but for now. . ."

Anna lowered her eyes. "...We do what we must. I know. Father, I feel I have no choice but to bring back the issue of marriage. If you want me to bear heirs to for our family we cannot tarry. You might not want to hear this, but you will have to choose someone soon, else my suitors will get disenchanted by the extended wait. Already some of the girls look at me differently, I am getting older than it is proper and no man wants to marry a wife who has seen too many springs. They'll all wonder why I didn't get married sooner, then rumors will spread that I might be barren or worse."

She let the words hang for a moment, her fearful expression revealing that she could not live with such a shame on her shoulders.

"Besides, you married mother when she had but fifteen springs."

Aleksios leaned back in his chair and contemplated Anna over tented fingers. After a pause he spoke again.

"You are a Komnenoi, you will do your duty for the family and the Empire. I understand your position, but an alliance with the Hungarians is the most important priority at this point.

"If you are in a rush to be married, the Hungarian Prince is a bachelor. A marriage to him would cement the alliance for sure."

The Basileus rose and spoke again, "I wish you a good journey, Anna."

The young woman seemed about to lauch a retort, but held her tongue. Instead she bowed.

"I will pray for you father, return to us safely." With those words she took her leave from the Basileus' tent.

Aleksios watched his daughter depart for a moment. Then, turning back to the map table, the Basileus barked for his subordinates. There was much to be done.

[Ignoramus]

Mysia, 1086

The sweat dripped from the weary soldiers' faces as they staggered, rather than marched, towards Nicaea.

"With all due respect, Caesar, I have seen better roads in rubbish pits than this mess!" gasped Anatolius Laskaris, a veteran soldier who rode with Ioannis, "Must we rush back to Nicaea? After all, we have only just restored Roman rule in Dardanellia."

"Ah, my good Anatolius, always eager to get into battle, but in your aged years, you don't appreciate the toils of campaign as much." responded Ioannis, "We must return to Nicaea so that Strator Chrysovergos can set out on his expedition. I will not have the second city of the empire exposed to the Turks."

"Yes, but surely we could have waited until the roads, rudimentary as they are, have been cut?"

"No, time is essential. The Turks will not be idle, and we are as yet still very weak.

[Smowz]

Trebizond 1076:

Dust is whirling around in the distance, Roman veterens are steeling themselves with anxious looks on their battle scarred faces.

Nevoulos ek Philadelphius stands in his borrowed combat gear rather nonchalant towards the whirligig of activity. What is the fuss about? He asks himself, we stand here as Romans about to do battle to correct the wrongs of years ago. We are infinitely superior to anyone else or so he had been brought up to believe anyhow. He turns to a grizzled soldier to his left and asks:

Why the fuss over a simple sand-storm?

The soldier looks in astonishment at me. I wonder if he is wondering about my aristocratic accent and stance, I realise that this probably comes as a shock to him and the governor of Trebizond will be equally as shocked to see me return later as part of a victorious party of troops. Yes, there will be no standing on a nearby hillock for Nevoulos, I am to gain the glory and wonder of combat.

Young pup the soldier replies Look closer and prepare yourself that is no mere sand-storm, can you not hear the unmistakable hooves of the Seljuk Cavalry. That is the enemy.

He points as the now much closer dustbowl approaches – I can see snarling faces of mounted men through the dirt. My mind explodes in blind panic as I begin to step back.

What – send out a tribune explain we are not ready!!!

I am shouted down as from the back a loud general lets out a huge shout.

Hold the line there spears up… prepare yourselves men. Fight, fight to the last man….. For Rome…

A half hearted shout of For Rome echos down the line.

For Rome I thought, what the hell was that. I wonder where is the long monologue of a general telling his troops of the superioty and might of his troops, listing the vices of the enemy. This is not the battle lore I had read about back home in Athens. I realise here and now the stark truth, that I am part of a ramshackle disorganized rabble that is about to be slaughtered. The men around me look out of shape, hungover and grim. Worse still, it was me that has instgated this moment and my foolish words back in the safety of the walls of the city.

My knees are literally knocking together now as I look up the enemy is nearly upon us. I would turn and flee but men are pushing at my back I have literally nowhere to go. I desperately hold my shield over my head and cower behind spear hanging uselessly by my side. A warm trickle is felt down my left leg as I lose all control over my faculties as now feel a huge weight crashing in front of me. Screams and slashes are all around me.

Suddenly I regain some sort of composure – accepting my fate, I resign myself to go down fighting. As the weight releases from me I cautiously peer out from behind my shield, a head rocks back as an arrow clips my ear of my bare head. I saw little but a cloud of arrows falling around me, I raise my shield and cower beneath again. Arrows thud into the shield, I have barely the strength to hold the weight as again and again they hit.

I am forced into the dusty sandy ground, blood now pouring from my arms, knees and from somewhere in my head as once again fear and my own mortality take over the thoughts in my head.

Mother, Father… I cry pathetically I have failed you

Fortunately the men around me are too concerned with their own vulnerability to hear my shameless mewing. Once again I am able to recover my composure for a second to realise the rain of arrows have stopped. No sooner have I regained my footing is the weight of a second cavalry charge felt immediately ahead of me. The force pushes our thinned line back and over, as the man ahead of me is pushed up and over me, I fall aback my shield arm knocked back…

I scream as a horses hoof pins my hand that was holding my spear to the ground, the accompanying crack turns my face white with agony. As the horse moves on I roll with my shield toward what looks to be a cluster of still standing, heck still alive men . Woth my limp hand a dare to reach out and grab a fallen comrades helmet to offer me some facial protection. Ignoring the shooting pain from my hand I place it awkwardly on my head and desperately claw toward the survivors.

Before I get there I am cut off as more horseman surround me, a nearby horseman takes his bow and looks me in my eye and suddenly stops before he can launch his lethal shot, instead he offers his hand as if to rescue me. I look back at the man completely dumbfounded…

Nevoulas take my hand shouts the rider in perfect Greek.

I realised at once that this must mean some sort of surrender, quivering at the fought of what depraived acts may be forced on me by the Turks I spit to the floor and shout defiantly.

**** off Turk, I’d sooner you kill me then be taken prisoner.

The rider looks in despair and in the heat of the battle surprises me further by reaching up and removing his helmet to reveal fully a face of a man that looked very familiar.

Wha….

I shook my head, it cannot be I thought, it must the battle or some kind of Turkish witchery of some kind.

Nevoulas please now take my hand my brother or you shall surely die….

…..

Rhodes 1087:

I wake up with a start, sitting up straight sweat pouring down my face. I had the dream again I thought sombrely, the recurring nightmare of that day had lived with me since. It is a mixture of shame my part in so many Romans death and the shame of a turncoat in my family. I stand up and move away from my still sleeping bodyguard around me.

The siege of Rhodes still continues, the news that had been received from Kosmas the governer of Athens has sent men to help in a final assault on the Hold that we need to take to fully control the island. Meaning it would soon be time for battle once more. Not that I feared battle or cherished it, I had fought several times since Trebizond infinitely more successful, but still that bloodbath somewhat haunted me.

My own brother I reflected the traitor. I recall his explanations to me as I was held prisoner in the Turkish camp. I abjectly refused to accept his line of reasoning, that the days of the Roman empire was gone and that he had come to realise and believe in a new force, the force of the Seljuk Turks, the force of Islam. I remember his fond preaching’s of how lenient and tolerant they were toward us prisoners and how I too could become like him a general in the army.

I snorted as I stared blankly at the night sky, their leniency and tolerance allowed me to escape. I realise that this goes against my feelings somewhat. In fact my resolve and thoughts on the Islamic Turks has softened considerably since that day as I have learned more of them and their faith. Still I am somewhat defiant about my brothers’ messages of the Turks plurality, I had come to realise that as it stood he did have a point. The Roman Empire was indeed a shadow of what it once was.

Not for long though I mused and now smiled to myself, as here myself and Ioannis Kalematros stand on the brink of success on Rhodes several other acts of expansion has taken place. The Roman Empire was indeed on its way back up and not as you said my brother a dying corrupted disease.

You were wrong to desert us Makedonias, you betrayed your family and your heritage, I WILL right your wrong. I say out loud to nobody in particular.

I take a seat on a nearby rock as I look at the garrison of Rhodes that had frustrated us so

… and you people of Rhodes will soon feel our force…

[_Tristan_]

OOC : This is the first installment in a series I intend to do about the past of Methodios...
I have six or seven parts written so far and should post one each day during the week, barring any unexpected difficulties...

Hope you enjoy them...


Wild Turkey’s chase
Cilician Armenia, September 7th 1071


Columns of smoke rose above the small barren hills of Cilicia. The breeze carried the smell of cooking, horses and latrines. This were the first telltale signs to Tagaris that he was finally approaching the camp of Tarchaneiotes’ army.

A week past, as a young Topoteretes, he had been sent with his small retinue of men to scout the area and try and locate the elusive Turkish forces. Though they are rode through miles and miles of barren and mountainous country, they had found no clue to the presence of that Muslim army.

No messengers from the main body of the army under Basileos Romanus either.

Not finding any sign of that army was not that worrying, seeing how most of it had been marching to Manzikert to be met by Romanus’ main corps. But the Basileos’ agents at the Sultan’s Court had claimed that this was a lure and that a second Turkish army would catch Romanus’s army from behind, playing hammer to Sultan Alp Arslan’s anvil.

Tarchaneiotes (and Methodios with him) had been dispatched from the Tagmata to try and engage the second Turkish force, in vain.

Finally reaching the centre of the camp where Tarchaneiotes’ tent was dressed, Methodios got off his horse and gave the reins to one of his men. Tarchaneiotes came out of the tent. A burly man of forty and some years, he bore a large black curly beard, only partially hiding a constant scowl from a wound he received fighting the Normans in Italy while still young. Standing at attention, Methodios gave his leader a military salute.

“Topoteretes Tagaris reporting, sir”.

“Topoteretes, at ease”, replied the general. “Your report ?”

“Sir, no sign of the Turks… We rode north and came rounding from the west, according to orders and have not seen the least sign of their presence.”

A silence followed.

“Permission to speak, sir ?” Tagaris asked.

“Granted” answered Tarchanieotes.

“Sir, do we have confirmation that such a force truly exists ? If it did, we surely would have seen some sign, any sign of its presence… It is as if…”

Seeing the glare in his commander’s eye, Tagaris let his voice trail off.

“Are you implying that we are on a wild goose chase? That we have been betrayed?” grunted the general.

“Yes… Ha… No, sir…” Tagaris answered, totally unsure as to what answer was expected of him.

“Dismissed, young man… And don’t go spreading those tales around camp. If I catch only a rumour of this, I’ll make personally sure you end up with kitchen duty for a month…”

“Aye, aye, Sir”said Methodios, giving a sharp salute, before taking his leave.

******

[TheFlax]

Bran, 1083 to 1086

Hungary, a barbarian kingdom which thinks too highly of itself, its crude language is only matched by its equally crude table manners. Their women have loose morals, wearing tight dresses and leaving their hair exposed for all to see; even the so-called noble ladies share all their meals with the men and travel the streets whenever it fancies them, forsaking their dominance over the household. Their leaders are uneducated, hunting in the hemera and reveling in the hespera, most of them shirking from the duties of their station. As for their rites, they are uninspired, riddled with mistakes and uttered in that barbaric tongue, latin. Their architecture reveals their innate insecurities, with their narrow roads, small houses and tight rooms; only those who fear their enemies, be they spies, assasins or invading armies, would confine themselves to such a restrictive environment.

- Hungary: Politics and Culture by Anna Komnenos

The sun still dominated the afternoon sky when the princess' carriage arrived at the castle of Bran. In a short amount of time she was through the gates and then was lead to the inner courtyard of the castle proper. There she found a small procession waiting for her, nobles she presumed by their attire. As she stepped out of the carriage they each gave a curt bow before the lord of Bran made himself known. He was not a tall man, for he barely surpassed her own height, and had a stocky build. His receding hair was black, turning to grey, as was his ample mustache. His small beady brown eyes shone with an inexplicable intensity. A translator had accompanied Anna to facilitate communication.

"I bid you welcome to Bran, princess."

Anna nodded and smiled at the reaction of the assembled men. They had expected her to be richly dressed in an effort to impress, instead she had emerged with plain traveling clothes and it seemed her veil had also taken them offguard. Vainly, they tried to peer at her features, but only met her determined and demanding eyes. With this arrival, she had showed them they were not worthy enough for her to take her time grooming herself properly. She would reserve that for the King.

"I take it you have arranged a suite for me?"

It was the man's turn to nod politely.

"Very well, you may take me there." With those words she signaled her escorts to follow her with the luggage.

The assembled men were shocked she hadn't even acknowledged them and yet found themselve cowed by her strong presence, none of them protested when she was led away by the lord of Bran himself. As she made her way through the castle with him she probed him with questions.

"When will your King see me?"

Her host smiled faintly. "My lord the King is a very busy man, at the moment he is campaining against some rebels who have forsworn their allegiance to the crown. He will meet with you as soon as possible, my lady."

She gave a few short nods, chiding herself silently. "Of course, it is still campaigning season. I should expect him in the following months then?."

The man waited they had passed nearby servants before replying. "That sounds, plausible."
She had little time to reflect upon that choice of words, for they had arrived at her suite. At first she thought this was some sort of jest. The two rooms combined were smaller than her bedroom in the Imperial Palace, with floors and walls in rough stones covered by a few rugs. They had omitted to even give her a desk and a small cot in the waiting room seemed to have been placed for her confidante. She was about to complain, but her host gave her a proud smile, indicating he thought only the best of these accomodations. She took little time in settling herself in the cramped suite and immediately turned her thoughts to what she would do to occupy her time in the coming months.

------------------------

Weeks turned into months and still there was no audience in a foreseeable future. Instead I spent my days in my room or in the company of Lord Miklos. In my first week, I scored a victory securing myself a desk. At first, Miklos seemed bemused as to why I would need one, until I pointed out that I needed to write letters in order to keep my father appraised of the situation. At once he congradulated me on being able to write, apparently very few women of high rank know how to write in this barbarian kingdom. Now at least, I can spend my day writing instead of wandering in the castle's dreary hallways. I also find myself wishing I had come here more prepared, while bringing texts and book would have been useful, a fork would have been a far more important item. Not only do we feast on peasant fare in most hespera meals, but I had no choice other than to demean myself by eating with my hands. Need I mention I could not find one single piece of interesting literature in the whole of Bran? And that was not for lack of trying. Truly, I have breached the frontier of the civilised world.

- Memoirs of Anna Komnenos

Anna had taken to wearing relatively plain clothes until she would meet the King, besides, since she lived in what amounted in her opinion to servant's quarters, she might as well dress as one of them. By now, most of the nobles thought her a simple and pious woman, for she prayed frequently, and somewhat naive. She saw no reason to change their erroneous perceptions of her person. She smiled warmly as she entered the study of Lord Miklos and he returned the smile, as it was customary. Inevitably, she asked the same question she had the previous morning and all of the mornings in the past month.

"Lord Miklos, do you have any news of the King?"

With a well rehersed sigh, Miklos responded, as always.

"No, my lady, I have heard nothing of him yet. Perhaps tomorrow..."

This time Anna had enough, she refused to spend another worthless day. Yet, she strived to keep an unintelligent facade to make those barbarians overconfident. She would have to lead him where she wanted.

"I tire of waiting, unable to accomplish the mission my father gave me, perhaps we could do something in the absence of the King?"

Miklos sat thoughtful for a few moments, before rising. "My lady, we cannot proceed without the King, I do not have the authority to make any official arrangements."

Anna nodded slightly. "Yes, I know, but can't we do anything? Could we not make preperations?"

Again Miklos appeared thoughtfull, he seemed to be getting what she hinted at. "We could... possibly... make a draft of a proposition?"

The princess beamed. "That is a wonderful idea! Let us get to it immediately then."

Pulling a quill from her belt pouch, she took sheets of paper from his deak and asked him for ink. It took a moment for Miklos to react before complying and before long they got to work on a proposal to the King of Hungary. Quickly, Anna took back a more submissive role, letting him take the lead in the negociations, or so he thought.

--------------------

More than two years passed before I had the opportunity of meeting the King of Hungary. In that time I mastered their language, with help of my translator, and continued writing. Lord Miklos took great interest in me during my prolonged stay and as he fashioned himself a scholar, he took it upon himself to teach me his knowledge for he thought me smart enough for a woman. He did not realise I already knew most of what he tried to teach me, and more, for I indulged him to keep appearances. I often thought back to my tutor as a young child and tried to recall the questions I had asked then. When I realised he was glad to answer each of them, I redoubled my efforts to ask more of them. It didn't take long before he introduced me to his wife, a young woman a few springs older than I. Apparently it was his third and I omitted to mention he would surely be punished in the afterlife for such a crime, for diplomacy's sake of course. I was aggravated to discover she took a certain liking to me, taking me for her younger sister she recounted to me each piece of gossip she had heard. At first, I had hoped I would gain something from these conversations, but soon realised she knew only about minor lords or rich merchants. The amount of adultery going on, if her sayings were true, disgusted me profoundly. I had not thought the people at our borders to be so degenerate.

- Memoirs of Anna Komnenos

Anna walked slowly to the main hall of the castle, the King had finally come after almost three years of waiting and she would have him wait for her. This was a small revenge she would take and was also part of her strategy. The waiting would have unnerved a lesser person, but in Anna's case, it only sharpened her determination.

Once she had waited long enough, she entered the audience hall and keeping her eyes on the floor, she bowed deeply to the King of Hungary. Mutters circulated throughout the room and as she rose, she gazed upon her opponent in the upcoming negotiations. It took all of her self-control to repress the smile creeping on her face. The King was dressed in fine attire but she had completely overshadowed him. Her white silk robe was heavily embroidered with rich purple motifs and brocated with gold filigree. In addition, she had forgone the use of a veil, replacing it with a small golden crown studded with many large gems.

In the most humble voice she could muster she addressed the barbarian king in a flawless Magyar, to the surprise of all assembled.

"Your Majesty, I am Anna Komnenos, first daughter of the Basileus of the Roman Empire. I have come at my father's bidding and in his name to negotiate an agreement between our two people."

The flustered expression of the King was all she needed to see. Check she thought, referring to the game called chess.

The King took precious seconds to recover before attempting to take back the lead. "Erm... yes, I have read the draft of the proposal you established with Lord Miklos. It is acceptable, save for the omission of compensation. I do think 10 000 gold coins would do nicely."

Anna locked her eyes in his and gave a satisfied smile. "That is agreeable, but there is one small thing I wish to ask. » She waited for the King's face to light up with a radiant smile before continuing in a serious voice. « Will you pay us with solidus or your own currency?"

The King's face flushed as anger took over. "What do you mean? You could not have misunderstood me girl!"

The princess remained calm, to let emotions take over was a sure sign of defeat. The battle was over and that fool didn't even know it. Her tone became harder. "Tell me then, your Majesty, why should the Roman Empire compensate you for accepting our terms?"

Unable to keep his calm, the King rose and glared at her. "You came to us with this proposal, thus it is clear you are in need and are the weaker party in this discussion."

Anna permitted herself a faint smile, this was too easy. "The weaker party? The Roman Empire might not be what it once was, but it has been an established power for as long as history itself. On the other hand, you Kingdom has not even seen a whole century. You have no allies because all your neighbors look down on you, not so in the case of the Roman Empire, who comes to you as an equal. Furthermore, need I remind your Majesty that Constantinople is a center of trade and that while we can find other trading partners, you will find no other with such a trading center. By trading with the Roman Empire you will have access to goods from around the known world."

She let her words sink in, prefering not to pressure the King too much, he was already on the brink of being lost to her. To her relief, he sat down while considering what she had said. Finally, after a tense silence, he pronounced himself.

"You show much wisdom in your words and I will consider them. We will continue the negotiations tomorrow."

Anna simply bowed deeply once more, before taking her leave. Tomorrow, he would try to seize the advantage again but he would fail, she had broken his confidence in their first encounter and he would not recover before the treaty was signed. His greatest mistake had been giving her almost three full years to prepare for this single day.

---------------------

Glad the negotiations for the day were over, Anna returned to her suite. She was eager as ever to leave this uncivilised city that sorely lacked any kind of manner. As she entered in her bedroom, she was so caught up in her thoughts, Anna almost missed Verina quickly hiding a letter behind her back.

The princess tilted her head to the side, as if trying to see what was behind her servant.

"What are you hiding?" She asked curiously.

Verina shrugged somewhat nervously. "Its... nothing."

Anna laughed softly. "Come now Verina, we have no secrets, show me."

The older woman hesitated slightly before handing over the letter to Anna's waiting hand. Unfurlign it, she browsed through it, instantly recognizing it was addressed to her and came from another of her servants, Eudoxia. Anna never got a chance to actually read the letter for Verina immediately bowled into her, knocking the princess to the ground. Anna blinked repeatedly, trying to focus her vision. She felt oddly dizzy and lightheaded; a sharp pain emanating from the back of her head.

She barely got time to get back her bearings before the rough hands of her servant wrapped themselves around her small neck. In vain, she clawed at her confidante, seeking to release the tightening grip. A leisurely life of reading and writing had left Anna substantially physically weaker than her servant, and thus her struggle had little effect as she felt her consciousness slipping away.

In desperation, Anna groped for the small pouch at her waist and pulled out a letter opener. She stabbed wildly at her assailant with what little strength remained until the improvised blade dug into something. As the chokehold loosed, Anna's vision cleared in time to see Verina's smirk turn into a panicked shriek, the improvised weapon stuck in her left eye. By the time the princess had more or less regained her senses, Verina had already left the room in blind panic.

Anna rose slowly and her vision blurred again, pain lanced through her head and she stumbled forward, still trying to catch her breath. Advancing to the bed, she passed her hand through her hair and felt something wet. She stopped for a moment to look at her pearly white hand, it was sullied with blood. She only had time for a quizzical expression before collapsing on the bed.

--------------------

When she returned to the negotiations, Anna appeared unphased by the traumatic event that had nearly killed her. Nor did she seemed troubled to learn that Verina had died while trying to escape. In perfect control of her emotions, she finally arrived at an agreement with the King of Hungary on the following day. There would be no compensation, on either side, and already the King was taking to his newfound friendship with the Roman Empire.

Anna for her part made it no secret she was to leave in haste. She was more than ready to return home and put this unpleasantness behind her. It had only been two hours since the agreement had been finalised and already her carriage was speeding away from Bran, carrying back the disgruntled princess to the civilised world.

[_Tristan_]

The Dirty Dozen
Cilician Armenia, September 7th 1071-September 8th 1071

Leaving the tent Methodios joined his men by their camp fire. Those were the men he had been living with for two years now. Men that had served under his father until a Turkish arrow had taken him. The men felt as if they owed the son what they couldn’t achieve for the father.

Sitting by the fire, there was old Bjarki, the former Varangian, come from the cold northern wastes with Methodios’ father to serve for the Empire. Next to him sat Sergios, Methodios’ standard bearer. A bull of a man, short and squat, with the strength of the heroes of old. Facing him, was Nikolas, Methodios’ squire, the last to join Methodios’ bodyguard. A street urchin, he had the quick wit and quick reflexes born of necessity, almost always playing with the knives he liked to keep secreted about his person. Tending the fire was dark-skinned Adrastos, born of a Nubian mother and a Greek father, a patch of burnt skin on his shoulder where the mark of his former master had been burnt into his flesh. He had gained his freedom defending his master’s home against a Turkish raiding party and gained his freedom this way. Methodios had never seen a man who could throw a javelin so far or with so much accuracy. A little further back from the fire, tending the horses was Nikodemos. The man seemed to be able to talk to horses. Before being forced into military life, he had been a lad working the stalls at the Hippodrome, getting to know the horses and dreaming of driving a race chariot. There was also Antonios, whose mastery of the bow came from having lived his early years on the northern shore of the Black Sea, among the nomad tribes... There were also Hilarion, a never-ending scowl on his face belying his name, Antonios, Elias, and others still… Never had such a score of men been assembled in a single unit… All of them had a life-story worth of a Nordic saga or a poem of Homer… Such as those that Methodios’ father liked to tell his son the few times he managed to be home…

Those men had all at one time came to serve under his father’s orders… Now they served under him… Methodios was proud of the honor but fearful at the same time : he didn’t want to disappoint the trust these men had put in him.

Taking the bowl of food that Adrastos handed him, Methodios sat by the fire contemplating what was at work behind the scenes… For surely, there was some dark clouds brewing on the horizon.

Having eaten, Methodios rolled in his blanket, shutting out the noise of the men and horses, hoping for some undisturbed dreams.

Dawn came… A cold autumn sun cast a grey light over the camp. Fires were stoked, horses whinnied, men started about their daily chores.

Methodios woke up, put on his sword-belt and walked down to the nearby stream to refresh himself. Once done, he began practicing with his sword, gliding from one move to the other, striking down one imaginary enemy after the other.

A young soldier planted himself at attention in Methodios’ field of vision, not daring to interrupt him.

Methodios stopped and faced the young man, sheathing his sword in the same move. “What is it, soldier ?”

“Sir, the general summons you and your men. You are to assemble in full gear and join him by the command tent.” The soldier said, giving a sharp salute and turning on his heels before Methodios could answer or ask a single question.

******

[_Tristan_]

Judas’ Gold
Cilician Armenia, September 8th 1071

The clouds had parted and with the sun now high in the sky, heat-waves obscured the horizon. Tarchaneiotes and his men were in the lead. A small company of a barely a hundred men with Methodios’ and his men given the rearguard detail.

Nothing had transpired of their mission or their destination since Methodios had reported to the command tent with his men in full battle-gear.

They had ridden for four hours now, picking their way across this hilly and barren country.

Finally the gorge into which they had ridden some time ago opened into a large clearing.

To Methodios’ surprise, the clearing was not devoid of life. And the sight sent a chill down Methodios’ spine…

In a middle of the clearing sat a huge pavilion on the summit of which floated in the feeble breeze a pennant with a blood-red crescent on a field of green.

“Turks…” growled Sergios, right behind Methodios “By the tits of my last whore… What is this ?”

Methodios was nonplussed. They had been looking for the Turks for almost a month now, riding north and south, east and west, not even catching a whiff of their scent… And now, leaving the main force behind them, Tarchaneiotes led them unswervingly to the Turkish camp. Something was afoot.

Turning to his men, Methodios issued a warning in a low voice. “Remain vigilant and prepared to ride. Loosen your weapons.”

Seeing that his orders had reached the last of his men, Methodios turned back to see his general reaching the command tent.

The Byzantine riders spread on either side of the General’s bodyguard. As rearguard, Methodios and his men remained a bit further to the back of Tarchaneiotes.

The Turks had arrayed themselves on both sides of the tent. Methodios counted less than 500 men., still more than three times the number of Tarchanieotes’ men in the clearing. Was that the army that hoped to surprise us ? Methodios mused.

Tarchaneiotes got down from his horse as a Turkish dignitary came out of the tent, a large smile upon his face. He wore a large red black turban on his head and long flowing gold-embroidered robes, of a Persian design.

“As Salaam Aleikum, General” said the Turk, bowing low. “Finally, we meet. I am Abu Ali al-Hasan al-Tusi Nizam al-Mulk, Vizier of our Great Sultan Alp Arslan, may Allah bless his name.”

“Greetings, Vizier. Forgive me if I seem gruff but what news do you have ? It’s been a long time since we’ve had contact with the Emperor.” Tarcheneiotes asked.

Hearing the greetings exchanged, Methodios’ anguish deepened.

“You are forgiven. I have great news. All went according to plan. Diogenes has been defeated at Manzikert…” An outcry of incredulity rippled across the assembled kataphraktoi, drowning the remaining words from al-Mulk. “… and captured. Though our Sultan in his great mercy has freed him and sent him back to his own lands, along with all other prisoners.”

“Great news indeed” Tarchaneiotes answered “A nice victory for your Sultan but a victory he could not have achieved had my forces been there at Manzikert.”

“True, true indeed, General.” Al-Mulk acquiesced. “A devious plan you devised…”

Methodios had not lost a word of the exchange between the two men. Tarchaneiotes had betrayed the Emperor, taking his whole army off the main battlefield, forging a defeat out of what should have been a victory.

“Yes… A devious plan… But deviousness has a price, no ?”

“True, once again… You are not one to dally in double-talk, General. We had an agreement. You fulfilled your part of the bargain. I will fulfil ours in the name of our Sultan.”

Al-Mulk made a sign to one of his aides. Instantly, four soldiers came forward carrying a large coffer, depositing it in front of Tarchaneiotes.

“Here are your thirty pieces of silver, General…” Al-Mulk said, a wide grin on his face. “…though there a bit more than thirty of them in there, nor are they silver…” A short laugh… “But you get my meaning…”

Tarchaneiotes eyes burned with anger. The Turk had just called him a traitor and there was nothing he could do. Instead he simply said, his voice hardly masking his fury “And that other service, we required of you ?”

Methodios sat his horse, dumb-struck. Tarchaneiotes, a traitor… And for what ? Not glory, not honours but gold… Only gold… Fury welled up in him but he had to contain it. If he let it run its course, fury would destroy him (no great loss there) but he had taken the responsibility of seeing to the welfare of his men.

“That should be over as we speak. Anything else you require of us, friend ?”

Visibly relieved, Tarchaneiotes nodded. “One more small favour… I would prefer if there were not so much witnesses to our bargain.” Inclining his head to left and right, indicating the kataphraktoi standing in a line facing the Turks.

“I thought so” Al-Mulk said, raising his right arm.

Suddenly, a cry reverberated over the clearing where the Seljuk camp was set up.

“Archers !!”

The spearmen that had stood in the front rows of the Turkish lines, dropped to one knee, lowering their lances. The archers in the back rows banded their bows.

“Fire !!”

A rain of arrows shot at the lined-up horsemen, felling horses and men alike, both on the left and right of Tarchaneiotes. Methodios and his men were spared only by standing behind the General and his own bodyguard.

“Forward !!!”

The spearmen lunged from their crouching positions running for the few riders still standing, driving their spears to the horses’ breasts, making them fall thus pinning their riders, before slaughtering them.

Wheeling his horse and drawing his sword, Methodios howled to his men “Run, men !!! Run for your lives !!!”

Spurring his horse forward, Methodios drive his charger between the fast closing sides of the Turkish pincers, seeing that his men had not lost time in following but were hard on his tail. The gorge through which they had entered the clearing was the only way out.

As he neared the entrance, Methodios saw that some fifty Turkish spearmen had taken position there, blocking the way, bracing behind their shields, spear-points driven forward. Slowing his horse to a canter, Methodios let his men catch up to him, forming up in a wedge.

“Either we break them or we die trying…” Methodios said to his men.

Spurring his horse, Methodios howled his father’s battle cry “Odin !!!”

The cry was answered by twenty voices covering the noise of the horses’hooves “Odin !!!”

Methodios saw that Bjarki had placed himself on his left and Adrastos on his right.

The horses gained speed, the spear-points came rushing forward… With a bone-jarring impact, Methodios’ kontos struck one of the Turks, hurling him five feet backwards, into the rows of men positioned behind him, the momentum of Methodios’ horse crushing several men, the hooves crushing arms and ribcages.

A quick look to the sides showed that both Bjarki and Adrastos had made successful charges.

Then the line of spearmen lay behind Methodios… He was in the gorge, racing like mad in the narrow space between the high cliffs. The clatter of the horses’ hooves reverberated on the rocks, a noise of thunder, a noise of impending doom…

Coming out of the gorge, Methodios took stock of his surroundings. A brief look shown him that all of his men were still with him though one or two seemed wounded, riding slouched in their saddles.

“Let’s hope they can make it back to camp”, Methodios thought. “I must warn the others of Tarchaneiotes’ treachery”.

No chasers seemed to be coming out of the gorge but Methodios let his horse run at full speed. Not fearing for his life but fearing instead for the rest of the army.

******