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Anno Domini 827, January-7 - March-15
A month passed, and it was the hardest one, since it was the coldest of the winter. Under normal circumstances, I would have been shut inside my home or the smithy, working, or reviewing my ideas to see if I could finally manage to build a damned blast furnace. Instead, we had to endure the cold in tents.
When we expelled the sarakenoi from their houses, we managed to make use of some places that quickly became the most coveted by the officers so they could continue the siege. Unlike them, however, I remained in the siege camps. The privilege of staying warm inside a house was denied to most, so the only option was to stay by the bonfires, wearing as many layers of clothing and furs as possible.
The Varangians possessed large quantities of animal furs, and very quickly their wolf, bear, and beaver pelts were selling at high prices among soldiers who were suffering badly from the cold. Prices skyrocketed, and the Varangians were already counting substantial profits from selling some of their furs, since the temperature was tolerable for them even with few pelts and the clothing they already had.
Over the course of the month, we gained complete control of the island. There were practically no fortifications left, and the only places where there was a strong sarakenoi presence were the fertile lands of Crete, where they kept most of the slaves.
According to the request I made to determine how many Greeks remained on the island, we received the grim reality: there were about seventy thousand Greeks, not counting those who might still be inside the city. According to a census I had been given before the fall of the island, there had been four hundred thousand Greeks. The island had been well populated, which meant that the sarakenoi had either sold hundreds of thousands into slavery or they had died due to the conditions of enslavement.
Once that information became known, the already deplorable conditions of our prisoners became even worse. The Cretan recruits were the cruelest toward them, and although I tried to stop the killings—since I needed them as forced labor cutting trees and leveling ground, as the moat had already been filled—the sarakenoi ran out of arrows after two weeks, or stopped using them once they realized they were simply killing their own people.
The fleet captured three sarakenoi ships that had tried to enter, believing they could do so and escape in time. Instead, they ran headlong into the dromones of our navy. We freed some prisoners who had been chained to the oars and obtained valuable loot, since the ships were loaded with supplies, wool clothing, fabrics, and other goods. They must have captured a merchant vessel from some city on its way to sell those products.
And here lay the greatest problem: we had gone from a campaign with little future to one with great prospects. While the Byzantine fleet admiral remained attentive, listening to me and offering recommendations, the army general had let success go to his head. He was trying to sideline me from my position—or he was simply a corrupt piece of shit. I had seen him appropriating portions of the loot and ignoring my orders to distribute strategically important items, such as clothing and fabrics, among the soldiers. Instead, he distributed them among his circle of friends, trying to win over the tourmarches.
Fortunately, he was not a strategos. Many of the forces were simply troops from different themas of the empire brought together, so he had direct control over only about a thousand men, though he was trying to win over the rest of the tourmarches.
For the moment, I put him in his place when I entered his camp with nearly two thousand of my mercenaries, seizing the supplies he had stockpiled and was using to grant privileges to officers in order to buy their loyalty.
Even in this campaign there was damned politics. And since he was at my side by imperial order, no matter how much I wanted to punish him or simply execute him, I could not do so except for very specific reasons such as treason—not for the "strategic" use of resources, as he called it. So I had to keep a close eye on him.
The campaign itself was going extremely well. Literally the entire island was ours, and we had the cooperation of the Greeks, who were fed up with sarakenoi rule.
At least the month had been well spent in training. With four thousand Greek recruits who initially had no idea what to do with their weapons, discipline was beginning to form, and they were learning what to do in order not to die.
This was very different from the Varangian recruits, most of whom already knew how to fight, and those who did not know how to use weapons knew how to fight with their fists. So the longer the siege lasted, the better it would be for the troops when the time came to attack.
For now, there had been little more than a few skirmish attempts initiated by the general, who had installed scorpions on some earthworks from which we harassed the defenders on the walls—but nothing beyond that.
As for me, I had coordinated with the scorpions operators of the Byzantine fleet to help me. Although we were working hard on the trebuchet, manufacturing some components I knew were necessary, we were stuck on several missing elements. The scorpions operators managed to solve the problem, finally working out the tension system required for the trebuchet. We had already suffered four failed attempts where either the machine broke apart or the stone flew in the wrong direction, nearly crushing a tent with eight soldiers inside.
But after a month of work and considerable help from people experienced with catapults and scorpions, we finally managed to build a functional prototype.
"Good, tighten the ropes properly… I think it should work now," I said, watching as the counterweight settled into position.
"All right, load the projectile," I said, pointing at the stone we had chiseled to make it as round as possible, weighing around one hundred kilograms.
The naval operators pushed the projectile forward and lifted it into the sling of the trebuchet.
"All right, step back. If this goes wrong, what happened in the previous attempt could happen again, and the projectile might fly where it shouldn't."
Everyone moved away, and we had already relocated all the tents in the area—we didn't want any accidents. Once everything was in place, we released the ropes holding the counterweight.
The counterweight dropped with force, the trebuchet's arm swung, and the projectile was launched at its highest arc.
"It worked… it worked, damn it," I jumped and shouted as I watched the projectile fly toward the walls.
My men let out sighs of relief when they saw that, after a full month of constant work—making parts, adjusting them, and failure after failure—we finally had something functional.
The projectile smashed into the wall with a tremendous crash, and we watched as the section of wall where defenders stood shuddered, while they stared back at us, stunned by the noise.
"Good… it worked. We have everything we need to build three more, but we need additional projectiles. Take the sarakenoi to the nearest stone quarry and have them extract large blocks so we can chisel them, while the rest are assembled. We need to work on a larger one to throw projectiles twice the weight," I said, already beginning to resize the trebuchet to launch heavier stones.
"Understood," said the naval siege engineers, who immediately began gathering the many components we had prepared and started assembling additional trebuchets.
I watched as the second and third siege engines were raised, while the many thousands of prisoners were marched to the nearest quarry to extract rocks suitable for ammunition.
Using horses and the effort of many men, the counterweight was raised, then the siege engine was loaded, and we were achieving one launch every twenty minutes—the impact clearly audible when the projectile slammed into the wall.
Another full month flew by as we constantly heard the stones striking.
We now had around twenty trebuchets firing every hour, to the point that impacts could be heard every few minutes, and we began to notice massive cracks forming in the walls.
At last, winter was no longer such a problem as the days grew milder. Training continued while our supplies remained full for the time being, since with all the plunder we had enough for two years of siege—assuming, of course, that things did not rot, which was expected—but overall our position remained solid.
I kept the imperial general under control, though he continued his political games despite the many times I had reprimanded him. Meanwhile, pirates had slowly begun to return. On several occasions, the fleet intercepted them, fighting and capturing them, and once again there were problems over the loot. Many ships were loaded with luxury goods, and although he no longer tried to take control of the spoils outright, he insisted that he be the one to distribute them, with obvious intentions.
The smithy in Knossos was already operating and producing equipment—mostly basic gear, unfortunately, since Crete has no known iron or coal mines. I was simply using whatever we had on hand: sarakenoi swords, arrowheads, and similar items, to produce new equipment.
At least the four thousand recruits were now poorly but adequately armed, with a spear and a wooden shield, a padded gambeson, and a padded coif—everything I could offer them given the severe iron shortage we were facing.
As I watched the trebuchet arms swing, the admiral appeared, looking exhausted.
"All right… three more ships captured and three burned. That observation post on the island of Dia has been a godsend for ambushing the pirates—we see them coming," the admiral said.
"Good… if this continues, we'll sink the entire pirate fleet at sea. How are you holding up with your wounded?" I asked with interest.
"Barely. Victories aren't free—I have many wounded, but with the medics you brought, something can be done. Still, I think we should sail to a nearby city under our control and hire sailors. I'm down to three thousand three hundred marines out of four thousand. If I lose more, I'll start losing effectiveness with the dromones," the admiral said.
"Can't you use the locals? They're cooperating as much as they can to drive the pirates off the island—carpenters, blacksmiths, tanners, everyone has offered their services. I think you could recruit some fishermen and fill your numbers," I asked, looking for a faster solution that wouldn't require breaking the naval blockade.
"I need experienced men, not mere net-throwers. The pirates aren't novices—they're tough and have sold their lives dearly. We've already captured twenty-two ships and sunk twelve, and it's likely they're all returning for the harvest season, so it's urgent to refill the ranks."
"I have my Varangians. They're good sailors and even better fighters—they could fill those numbers," I suggested.
"I don't speak their language. How am I supposed to give orders if we don't even share a tongue?" the admiral replied.
"Right… right. How many ships are you sending back to fetch reinforcements?" I asked.
"About ten. In fact, I'll take the transports and two dromones so they can bring back more experienced crews," the admiral said.
"Good… I assume you'll need coin to pay the crews, so let me—" I began, when a massive crash echoed.
Both Sigurd and the admiral turned toward the sound and watched as a section of the wall collapsed completely.
"Call the sarakenoi. We've got new work for them—clearing rubble," I said, watching the breach. "You'd better stay. More than ever, we need to keep the blockade firm."
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If there are spelling mistakes, please let me know.
Leave a comment; support is always appreciated.
I remind you to leave your ideas or what you would like to see.
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