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…