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Anno Domini 827, March-30-April-7
Six days of sailing, and with favorable winds we finally reached Ainos. The transport fleet had to make real efforts to dock, since the harbor was not large enough for so many ships and there were long delays. While the men disembarked and returned to their homes, I headed to my manor, with my hird following close behind.
I found my parents inside.
The moment they saw me, both of them embraced me tightly at the same time.
"Where were you, Basil…? You just left and said nothing," my mother said, clearly worried, tears slipping down her face.
"Are you all right?" my father asked after hugging me.
"Yes…" I replied, completely omitting the fact that someone had tried to kill me.
"Where were you?" my father pressed.
"Crete," I said calmly.
"And what… what were you doing in Crete, Basil? That place is full of pirates," my mother replied, alarmed.
"Exactly why. The strategos recommended me to the emperor to lead the expedition to Crete…" I said, looking at my parents, until I noticed something. "Mother… are you pregnant?"
"Yes," my father answered, surprised by the sudden change of subject. Then he frowned. "So, by order of the emperor… you went to Crete?"
"Yes. In fact, I still have to go to the palace to formally close the imperial order. We took Heraclion, there are no pirates left on Crete… and it looks like we're moving again," I added with a faint smile.
"Again…? But I've only just begun to get to know the men of the thema," my father murmured, rubbing his face.
"Nothing happened to you, did it?" my mother asked, trying to examine me for wounds.
"Nothing happened to him," he said, looking at my hird. Sigurd understood Greek, but kept his lips sealed.
"No, mother. Always in the rear, giving orders during the siege. Never at the front. Far too dangerous for my taste," I lied effortlessly, ignoring the four days I spent on the front line during the skirmishes to enter Heraclion—and the fact that I took part in the final assault.
"I know there's a lot to talk about, but… would you let me take a bath? I haven't had a proper bath since Knossos, in the river, more than a month ago. I must smell terrible," I said as I began removing my armor, which smelled worse than a pigsty after months of sweat soaked into the gambeson.
"Of course. The architect built a new bath. Let me put logs on the fire so the water comes out hot," my father said, hurrying off to bring a large pile of firewood.
I continued removing my armor as I walked toward the bath.
"Ah… Stefanos really outdid himself," I murmured when I saw it. The bath had a small aqueduct bringing water directly, and the hypocaust beneath the floor was clearly visible. When I pulled a lever, the water began filling the stone pool.
It was, quite literally, a small private pool. An enormous luxury.
Without thinking too much, we slipped into the water. After months of using river water, a hot bath was a blessing, washing away the stench of war.
"Don't tell my parents what I was really doing… or they'll lecture me for hours about putting myself at risk," I said, looking at the Varangians bathing with me.
"Why?" Sigurd asked as he undid his braids to wash his hair properly. "You fill your parents with honor. You are a brave and fearsome warrior. You have a guaranteed place in Valhalla the day you die in battle."
The rest of the hird nodded at his words.
"Different values… for us, violent death isn't seen with glory, but with fear," I replied, relaxing and sinking a bit deeper into the hot water.
Sigurd raised an eyebrow, as did the other Varangians, who looked at me with curiosity.
After fixing my hair—which was in terrible shape from having my mind elsewhere all that time—and shaving the stubble that had grown in, I left the bath clean.
I still had things to do.
As soon as I stepped out, I put on a light tunic of soft linen. It was expensive, but it kept me cool and comfortable, and allowed me to move freely after so long with my body trapped in armor.
Now calmer, I explained to my parents what had happened and why I had had to leave so abruptly. I made it clear that everything had been by direct order of the emperor and that, likewise, I would soon have to leave again. The second thing I did, after reassuring them, was try to visit Hakon to explain what I had accomplished.
But Hakon had left three months earlier, returning to Svearike to continue his trade. He would not have been able to take much of my equipment anyway; I had practically emptied all my warehouses when, in desperation, I armed the three thousand recruits from Constantinople.
There was little else to do. I spent barely a couple of hours before having to depart again for the capital. I did not want to prolong the situation or give time for problems to arise, so I decided to leave as soon as possible.
A few hours later, I was already boarding the dromones for the return journey, with the gold from the campaign securely stored. Two days later we reached Constantinople and disembarked at the port of the Boukoleon, one of the imperial palaces—the safest possible place for a cargo of such value. No one could predict what people might do in the face of such a treasure.
Upon entering the palace, we were subjected to the usual protocols. My hird had their helmets and swords taken away, while the rest of the Varangians and mercenaries remained on the ships guarding the treasure. I entered through one of the secondary gates, avoiding the more ceremonial access.
Even so, I had to wait a long time in a chamber before the emperor was available. When I was finally allowed to pass, the hall was almost empty, except for the scholai guards posted at various points and a few servants preparing the room.
Then someone entered.
He observed me closely, just as he did my hird, who were scanning the palace's decoration with their eyes. He was young; his beard was just beginning to grow in. He wore purple, bore jewels, and—most importantly—a sword at his belt. He could not be just anyone.
After a few seconds of silence, he spoke.
"Do you know who I am?" he asked, resting a hand on his chin as he smiled.
"The co-emperor Theophilos?" I replied, making an educated guess based on his attire.
"Ah… so you do know. And what are you waiting for to perform the proskynesis?" he said, fixing his eyes on me.
I bowed, placed my right hand on my chest, and touched the ground with my left. A respectful greeting, though not at the level rendered to the senior emperor.
"That's better… mercenary," Theophilos said, not breaking eye contact. "Curious armor. Where did you find it?" he added, walking around me as he examined my steel plate cuirass and the brigantines worn by my hird.
"I made it in my forge, co-emperor Theophilos," I replied, not entirely certain how to address him without falling into excessive formality.
"I know I can't demand too many honors from someone who wasn't raised at court," he remarked with disdain. "It shows—you don't know."
He then looked at Sigurd with interest.
"Look at the specimen of a warrior you have here. I could use someone like that in the palace," he said with a smile. "So tell me, mercenary… how much for him?"
I was about to tell him to go to hell in the most appropriate manner possible when, before I could answer, Emperor Michael appeared, followed by an enormous retinue of officials, aristocrats, and patricians.
"General Basil presents himself by your command, my Basileus Rhōmaiōn," announced one of the court officers.
Once again I performed the proskynesis, kneeling and prostrating myself, placing my hands down and kissing the floor. With a brief gesture I indicated for my hird to do the same; they imitated me without hesitation, even without fully understanding the ritual.
"Rise," the emperor finally ordered.
I stood and fixed my gaze on the emperor, who had already taken his seat upon the throne. Around him, several officials whispered in his ear while adjusting documents. His son took the second throne, smaller in size, and from there began to watch me closely.
"How did the campaign in Crete go? We received no report of the situation, so we were preparing for the worst," the emperor said with a serious expression.
"That was because pirate activity had increased considerably and we could not afford to waste a single ship, my Basileus Rhōmaiōn," I replied calmly. "But it is my honor to inform you that the island of Crete is once again under imperial rule. We expelled the pirates from their fortresses, the sarakenoi are chained or dead, Heraklion once more flies the banners of Rome, and its inhabitants eagerly await the return of imperial governance."
Murmurs spread through the hall. Aristocrats and officers exchanged low words, quick glances, and gestures.
"Excellent news. Crete has finally returned to the fold," the emperor said thoughtfully. "Do you have any estimate of the population remaining on the island? We will have to repopulate it, and likely relocate inhabitants from other regions of the Empire so that Crete can withstand future incursions. Because, whether we like it or not, this is not over. They have tasted the Empire's riches, and I doubt they will abandon them easily."
As he spoke, his son began whispering something into his ear.
"We carried out a kind of census. Around seventy thousand people remain on the island, my Basileus Rhōmaiōn," I replied, without changing my tone.
Someone whispered to the emperor again.
"I see… a great tragedy," he said at last. "Three quarters of the island were lost under sarakenoi rule. Rebuilding will be hard, but the seas will finally be more peaceful." Then he raised his eyes to me.
"Basil… is it?" he added. "What of the loot? And why do only you present yourself? I was told the expedition was sent with a subordinate general and an admiral."It was Theophilos who spoke this time, while his father remained silent.
"The loot is aboard the ships anchored in the port of the Boukoleon. It is the treasury of the emir, who is chained along with his family on those same vessels for you to decide what shall be done with them," I replied. "The sum amounts to roughly one hundred thousand nomismata. As for the general, he died during the assault on Heraklion. He attempted to secure the emir's treasure and was trapped by the sarakenoi. The admiral remained on the island, safeguarding it, to prevent the pirates from attempting to retake it in my absence."
"How convenient, isn't it?" Theophilos said with a smile.
The emperor looked at him sharply. Theophilos immediately lowered his gaze, stopped smiling, and adopted a serious expression.
"Things that happen during sieges…" the emperor finally said in a neutral tone. "Very well, Basil. The Empire owes you a debt for helping us eliminate this pagan who never ceased plundering our lands. The loot will be distributed according to the law. You may keep thirty thousand nomismata and must deliver the same amount to the imperial treasury. The remainder will return to Crete to be distributed among the troops and to pay overdue wages."
"I thank you for your generosity, my Basileus Rhōmaiōn," I replied, inclining my head slightly.
"In accordance with what was stipulated in your previous summons," he continued, "all lands of Crete now pass into your ownership, so that you may collect rents and receive their benefits in whatever manner you deem most prudent—always within the law."
Murmurs erupted in the hall. They were no longer whispers; aristocrats spoke openly, shaken by what they had just heard.
"Your generosity knows no bounds, my Basileus Rhōmaiōn," I said once more.
Chaos grew around me. I watched as Theophilos spoke with his father, clearly unsettled by how the audience had turned, while the patricians exchanged looks filled with anger and astonishment.
All that remained was for this to end so I could return home. I would leave with more land than any other man in the Empire—save the emperor himself—and, fortunately, very far from the capital.
When the noise finally began to subside, the emperor raised his hand.
"Taking into consideration that all the lands of Crete belong to you, but that we must nonetheless establish a permanent administration on the island," he said firmly, "by my direct order, Crete is hereby established as a thema, tasked with defending its lands and protecting the waters from pirates."
A fresh uproar swept the hall.
"For this reason," he continued, unperturbed, "and given that it is not viable to grant public lands to the themata, and since you are the only one with the necessary capability, I appoint you strategos of that thema. You will assume governance of the island."
Chaos erupted once again.
Shit. Responsibilities. A poisoned gift.
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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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