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Anno Domini 827, March-19-30
I applied a bit of penicillin ointment to the wound and covered it with a bandage. I was not going to allow an infection to finish the work that that treacherous serpent had tried to begin.
Taking advantage of the fact that most of the soldiers were busy looting—including many who had served under the Byzantine general—I understood that there was no other option but to act immediately. If this reached the imperial court, it was very likely that I would lose. I had no political backing whatsoever, beyond steel and my men, and I knew all too well what they were capable of in Constantinople when they wanted to destroy someone with intrigues and lies.
What I hated most was happening. I never understood why that bastard had tried to antagonize me in that way. I had done my part, delivered results, and had no interest in getting involved in the damned nest of vipers that was the capital's politics. I only wanted to finish the campaign and hand over the lands—nothing more.
But there was no alternative left. The problem had to be eliminated now. Informing the emperor and letting the vipers of Constantinople decide was, in all likelihood, the perfect way to end me. If anyone had an issue with the outcome of the campaign, if my face was not the one they wanted to acclaim, that would be the punishment.
So I acted.
I ordered my mercenaries to secure the castle treasury so that the most valuable items would remain under my direct control. Then I gathered several hundred Varangians and authorized the sack of the city, leaving a clear order: only the sarakenoi were to be looted. If Romans were found, they were to be spared—on pain of death for anyone who disobeyed.
I let time pass as the soldiers began to search the city house by house, trying to identify who was sarakenoi. It did not take long for desperate screams to be heard as men, hungry for plunder, burst into homes to steal everything and enslave their inhabitants. When the screams of women being raped began, I knew it was time to move.
We moved through the city with my Varangians while soldiers from all the camps began arriving to join the looting. Officially, the city had fallen, and as I observed the acts of cruelty committed against the sarakenoi, I decided to withdraw with my loyal group. Everyone was forcing their way in through the breach to take part in the sack; we left through one of the gates that led directly to the general's camp.
The camp was almost empty. There was practically no one there; everyone was looting the city, trying to fill their pockets with something valuable. A ring, some coins—any object that did not have to be handed over to the common treasury. Everyone wanted to profit from the campaign.
We entered without opposition. It was the perfect moment. If any sarakenoi were landing to attack us from behind, I hoped it would not be right then. We found the general's tent, guarded by his bodyguards, who froze when they saw us, hesitating.
"Kill them all, but try to do it with as little blood as possible," I ordered my men.
As we reached the tent, the Varangians fell upon them, striking and strangling them in silence, while I went inside.
"What the—?" the general said, startled. He was drinking wine with several kentarchos and a tourmarches.
"You know exactly why we're here, you damned traitorous rat," I said, staring at him as my escort entered the tent with the dry sound of metal.
"Basil, I have no idea what you're talking about," he replied nervously.
"Really? Three of your bodyguards tried to stab me. Men who spent all day with you, protecting your back. Don't tell me you knew nothing," I said, narrowing my eyes.
"You have no proof… of anything. I took part in nothing. If there's a problem, we'll speak with the emperor and resolve it," he answered, trying to sound more confident.
"I don't have proof—but I have no doubts either," I said calmly. "Kill them all."
"I have nothing to do with this!" the tourmarches shouted as the Varangians entered.
"You're a witness, and I don't want witnesses," I replied with a smile, stepping out of the tent.
I immediately heard the sounds of struggle, the screams, the wet noise of blows and blood splattering inside the tent. At one point, someone cut through the tent and ran out, but a Varangian caught him, brought him down, and began beating him to death.
I stood with my arms crossed until it was over. The Varangians emerged bloodied, sheathing their daggers. When I went inside, I found all the officers dead and the general with his throat cut open, the wound so deep that his head remained attached only by sheer chance.
"Wrap the bodies in cloth and load them onto a cart. We'll leave them hidden in the city and, after nightfall, dump them with some sarakenoi corpses. We'll pass it off as an ambush or something similar… leave two here," I ordered after thinking for a few seconds.
The Varangians obeyed. They wrapped the bodies—the cloth was soaked with blood almost immediately—threw straw over them, and loaded them up. I took a torch and set fire to the general's tent to erase any trace, leaving two corpses inside so it would look like an accident caused by a candle. We left through the rear of the camp and followed the coast until we reentered the city through one of the gates, hiding the cart in the fortress.
Very few had taken part in the final assault.It was the perfect alibi.
When night fell and the sack began to subside, we took advantage of the fact that everyone was returning to their tents. In one room of the fortress, we placed the bodies alongside those of several sarakenoi and, to make it even more believable, we put coins in the pockets of the latter, as if it had been a fight in which the defenders had resisted and no one had looted them yet.
With that, at least, I could pretend not to understand what had happened and play the fool if anyone asked.
I let the day pass, sleeping in my tent. When I emerged, patrols had already formed to search for the general and the officers. No one knew where they had gone or what had happened. All that was found was the fire in the camp, two charred idiots, and several burned tents. Nothing more.
I offered men for the search while we began moving supplies into the city of Heraklion, securing them and quartering the troops in empty buildings for our stay on the island.
The counting of the emir's treasury also began. It was considerable. There were around one hundred thousand Roman gold coins, along with other valuables. That wealth came from the systematic plundering of imperial ships and the sale of the island's Romans as slaves. It was tainted gold, but I did not turn my nose up at it.
The only real question was how much belonged to the emperor. This was an imperial army, and we had to abide by the law. I could not keep everything, no matter how customary that might have been in other campaigns.
With all the chaos, someone finally found the general, notifying both me and the admiral. We went to see his body.
"So the bastard met his end, eh," said the admiral, looking down at the lifeless body of the general.
"Apparently the man wanted to reach the treasury before us… I never understood why he decided to do such stupid things," I said, shaking my head.
"He wanted glory… and prestige. To be the center of attention in the capital. He wanted a higher rank," the admiral replied, visibly satisfied as he looked at the corpse. "And clearly, those who are rewarded are always the ones who can claim they achieved the victory. He wanted to be the one who gave the order for the final assault—and that went hand in hand with removing you from the picture."
"And you?" I asked, narrowing my eyes at him.
"There are more campaigns," he answered without hesitation. "I'm not desperate to face someone like you—believe me. There are many generals; admirals, very few. My competition isn't as fierce as yours. As long as I carry out my orders and don't decisively lose a fleet, I'll keep my post and draw my pay. Maybe in one or two decades they'll give me a strategos position in some naval thema. With this… perhaps in a decade," he added with a slight smile. "So I'd rather not stick a dagger in my ribs out of envy."
With that, he left the room.
"Find a priest on the island, if any remain. If not, dig a hole and we'll bring one to consecrate the ground when we have time," I ordered, looking at the general's soldiers, who remained disoriented after the discovery.
With the fall of the city, the war was not over—but it had changed its nature. If pirate reinforcements arrived now in large numbers, they would no longer have access to granaries or reserves. They would have only what they carried on their ships. That allowed us something simple: to pursue them when they landed and crush them, cutting their attacks short before they could reach the two population centers that had formed after the general mobilization.
I had concentrated the entire population around Heraklion and Lasithi, the most fertile and easiest areas to defend. That was preferable to keeping people scattered across the island. Even if it meant settling thousands of homeless people, there was no alternative. We could not be everywhere with enraged pirates, determined to regain control or avenge their families.
The rest of the sarakenoi who had survived would likely end up in the slave markets of Constantinople. They had no shortage of reasons to attack, and I knew attempts would be frequent.
So I ordered the walls repaired and left a permanent garrison of one thousand local men, hastily recruited and now turned into the organized defense of Heraklion. They were locals, and they would fight more fiercely than anyone to avoid falling again under sarakenoi rule. They knew well what that meant. More than three hundred thousand people had vanished from the island when it fell into foreign hands; no one needed reminding.
I let ten days pass until the situation stabilized. The breach was closed, and the pirates began to fall one after another. Each time the fleet informed us where they landed, we attacked immediately, killing or capturing them. As soon as they disembarked, the Byzantine navy appeared, set their ships ablaze with siphons, and withdrew from the area, leaving them isolated and without escape. Then they were at our mercy. Even so, we had to hunt them across the island, but with constant patrols the pirates stopped coming and even began to avoid the region once they saw the imperial banners flying over the harbor.
Eventually, I considered it safe to begin the return. Sooner or later, I had to go back to the capital to report everything and deliver the recovered treasure, so it could be decided how it would be distributed.
I would return to Ainos with all my mercenaries, but first I settled the young Varangians in Messara, the most fertile region I knew. It was my way of rewarding their loyalty. I left them with tools and horses so they could begin working the land, taking advantage of the fact that there was still time to plant. I was not overly concerned about them; they had proven themselves to be tough warriors, and if any pirate dared to attack them—poor fool. It would almost be amusing to see their faces.
With everything ready, I embarked my mercenaries on the transports for the return journey. Officially, the army would be disbanded once the mission ended, and the forces of the themata would be returned to their provinces—if they were not forcibly resettled, a possibility whispered among the soldiers and one that none of them desired.
With ten dromones assigned by the admiral to escort the fleet, we set out on the voyage home after months of a miserable siege, laden with gold we could not yet touch. Everyone hoped that once my part was confirmed, I would distribute the spoils among the men.
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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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