-----------------------------
If we reach 12 comments. You have five hours from the time this chapter is posted. If we reach the goal, the next chapter will be posted in eight hours.(Valid comments must include information about what you like or dislike about the story, what you would like to see about the story, or any questions you may have about the story, as the devil is in the details.)
-----------------------------
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.
-------------------------------
Anno Domini 827,September-3-20
Mobilizing the Varangians for raiding was, without exaggeration, the easiest thing imaginable. When I put the idea to them, the question was not why, but when and against whom. In barely three days I had reached my goal: I recruited five thousand Varangians from a population that already exceeded thirteen thousand on the island.
Unfortunately for Håkon, I needed every piece of equipment available. When he returned from his journey a couple of months later, he would find the warehouses half empty. All newly forged swords were requisitioned to equip the Varangians, and I even borrowed many of the swords from my own men, arming them with spears alone. I needed good equipment for raiding, even if I could not afford to outfit them all like my personal troops.
Most of the Varangians wore only a padded gambeson and a mail shirt, along with the Byzantine kettle-style helmet. I could not equip them with the finest steel. Although I had doubled the output of the forge—reaching a thousand smiths at work and importing iron and coal in large quantities—steel still had to be divided between defense and export. We also had to travel light. The heat of Africa, even in autumn and winter, would be overwhelming in full armor, and that was a factor I could not ignore.
Only about three hundred Varangians wore the full armor of my personal guard. The rest were equipped with various combinations of padded gambesons. I had realized too late that I should have produced something akin to the ichcahuipilli: a tunic made of layers of cotton hardened in brine and plant fibers, highly effective against arrows. It was even said to be capable of stopping musket balls. Light, cool, and resilient. If the Spaniards, with all their metallurgy, had abandoned steel for that kind of protection upon arriving in Mesoamerica, there had to be a good reason. Unfortunately, that idea would have to wait for another time.
What I had begun to develop was a version of the English longbow—bows around a meter and a half in length. Initially, I had not intended to use archers in my armies. Few knew how to use them well, and those who did usually belonged to the themas, beyond my reach for recruitment.
With the Varangians, the situation was different. Many of them knew how to use a bow because they hunted in autumn and winter to obtain meat. Otherwise, they would have had to slaughter part of their livestock—especially cattle, which were far too valuable. As a result, archery practice was common among them. In Crete there were craftsmen skilled in bow-making who, after the departure of the sarakenoi, had been left with almost no work. Since my army used crossbows, I asked them to produce several hundred bows, both to test their usefulness and to prevent that craft from disappearing on the island. The moment to use them had arrived.
We distributed the bows among those Varangians who already handled them best, and among many others who could learn quickly. We loaded large quantities of arrows, leaving bolts and crossbows aside for this expedition.
Once everything was loaded, we held drills to determine who could use the bows most effectively. Then we set sail with fifteen dromons, forty transport ships from my merchant marine, and about eighty-five drakkars—many of them normally used as fishing vessels by the locals, who had no trouble lending them for the expedition.
With five thousand Varangians, we began the journey. By Varangian standards, it was slow. The transport ships had no oars, so we depended entirely on the wind. We advanced at a measured pace, but we carried most of the supplies needed for the raids; this slowness was necessary to sustain longer operations and to take greater spoils from the sarakenoi.
The voyage took around eight days on the open sea. For most of the journey we navigated by the stars, keeping our course as straight as possible. At last we reached Malta, where a visibly tense local garrison received us, shut inside its small kastro. At first, they thought we were raiders or sarakenoi pirates, who—according to them—had already been attacking their coasts frequently.
In Malta we began leaving part of our equipment behind. I spoke with the local kentarchos, who commanded the garrison, so that he would grant us an area from which to operate. He gave us temporary possession of several warehouses where we could store what we captured. Our presence greatly reassured the officer, who was clearly relieved to know that a naval force would be operating in the region.
I had some very old maps of the area, dating back to when it was still Roman. They were imprecise, but they marked cities with ports, suggesting that they had once been important points. Djerba stood out as a good place to begin. Being an island, if we acted quickly and took control of all its ports, we could easily block access, cut communications, and give ourselves all the time we needed to raid at leisure. Of course, we would leave several drakkars ready to intercept any vessel that tried to escape or approach.
After resupplying with water and leaving our large reserves of pickled food, salted goods, and olives in brine in Malta, we set sail carrying only what was necessary for eight days, trusting that we would obtain food and drink through raiding.
We rested for a day to recover our rhythm and then resumed sailing south. For six days we traveled driven solely by the wind, watching carefully for any ship that might appear on the horizon. The hours passed slowly until, at last, we began to make out land.
A spyglass would have been invaluable, but centuries still remained before its invention. We depended entirely on the men with the sharpest eyesight, those capable of discerning shapes at a distance.
"Land… I see… a harbor," shouted one of the Varangians who had climbed the mast of one of our transport ships.
"Good… it seems we've found our first target," I said, and I did not take long to summon all the Varangian ship captains. Coordination was essential.
"Listen. We attack fast and with violence. No rapes. We don't have time for amusements. We go in, kill anyone who resists, take prisoners, and load them onto the transport ships along with all the loot. We need to hit as many local ports as possible. The goal is to cause chaos; the plunder is secondary. Speed is what matters. At the slightest resistance—kill," I said, without raising my voice.
The Varangian captains nodded and began moving among the drakkars, repeating my orders again and again. There were no arguments and no questions.
Once everything was coordinated, we left groups of Varangians guarding the ships on several drakkars and took our positions. At once, the oars began to strike the water with a firm, violent rhythm. The fleet surged forward.
We advanced at great speed. The coast drew closer rapidly, and it did not take long for me to see the harbor's watchtowers go on alert as they spotted us. As we closed the distance, I watched the guards abandon the towers and run in desperation toward the local fortress.
I moved to the prow of the dromon. When we finally reached the pier, there was no one left to offer immediate resistance. We secured the ship and disembarked without wasting a second, axes in hand. The Varangians scattered at once, running in every direction like an unleashed tide.
The screams began almost immediately—sharp, desperate. Blood started to flow through the streets.
I immediately searched for the most important buildings, those likely to hold valuables, especially the local warehouses. I advanced with my hird close behind me, watching the slaughter without stopping.
To my left, a Varangian drove his sword through the abdomen of a sarakenoi who tried to block his way into a house. The blade came out drenched in blood as the man collapsed to the ground in spasms. Agonized screams echoed from inside as the Varangian entered without hesitation, the weapon still soaked.
To my right, another Varangian was beating mercilessly an idiot who had tried to face him with a miserable knife. He killed him with blow after blow while what appeared to be his family watched, frozen in place. The Varangian giant extinguished the life of the father and husband without the slightest emotion.
I walked to the local market. There were stalls filled with food, fruit, and dates. I took a few and put them in my mouth as I sat down to observe what was happening around me. The Varangian tide was taking control of the settlement with brutal speed, and I ate calmly while everything collapsed.
"Sigurd… want some? They're decent," I said, offering him a few dates.
"Let's see?" he replied, extending his hand. He lifted his mail from his face, popped a couple into his mouth, and lowered it again. After chewing for only a few seconds, he lifted it once more and spat on the ground. "Ugh… they taste awful," he said with a grimace.
"Hah… all right, let's move. They've taken control here already. Looks like people are running toward that tower," I said, pointing to the only structure that rose above the rest of the settlement.
We advanced, stepping through small pools of blood and dodging bodies. Soon I noticed that most of the population had fled toward the local fortification. Unfortunately for them, the gates had been closed some time ago, leaving a large crowd trapped outside, begging for them to be opened.
"This, if I'm not mistaken, is a ribat. A small religious fortification. Its defenders are fanatics—they won't surrender," I said, studying the sarakenoi structure.
"The walls aren't high and I don't see many up top. We can storm it," Sigurd replied, gauging the distance.
I looked around and raised my voice. "Archers… archers!"
Several Varangians who were taking prisoners or finishing someone off dropped what they were doing and came forward with their bows. I pointed at the walls.
"Don't let them interfere," I said with a wave of my hand.
They immediately took position about a hundred meters away and began firing at any defender who tried to peek out between the battlements.
"Men of the north!" I shouted again.
More Varangians began to arrive. I pointed to a large group of people packed in front of the fortification and gestured again. "Prisoners."
The Varangians charged at once. The group scattered in every direction, screaming and falling under the pressure.
The defenders on the walls tried to show themselves to shoot arrows or throw stones, but several hundred archers had already gathered, giving them no respite. They were few and completely outmatched.
"Sigurd, do you remember what we did in Bulgaria with the improvised battering ram?" I asked, eyeing a nearby cart.
"Oh, I remember it well… I see where you're going with this. I'll find something to break that door," he replied, signaling my hird to follow him.
He did not take long to return with what looked like heavy wooden beams loaded onto a cart. Along with a group of well-armed Varangians, they began smashing the ribat's wooden gate again and again.
Many defenders rushed toward the entrance to try to stop them, but by concentrating there they barely managed to show themselves, and every attempt was punished with an arrow. I saw several fall before they all withdrew to push from the inside, trying to keep the door from giving way.
"The idiots are blocking the door. Find a ladder!" I shouted as I identified their position.
The Varangians spread out while the archers continued to keep the walls suppressed. Before long, a ladder appeared, surely taken from somewhere nearby. They leaned it against the wall and, within seconds, began climbing like ants.
The archers were the first to reach the top of the wall and immediately began bombarding the defenders with a constant rain of projectiles, while more Varangians climbed up behind them. It did not take long before the gate was opened, once everything blocking it from the inside was removed. I watched the defenders retreat toward their final stronghold, leaving behind a trail of dead and wounded scattered across the ribat's courtyard.
Their last defense was a wooden door. The improvised battering ram did not take long to smash it apart with steady, well-aimed blows. When the wood finally gave way, the Varangians charged through the breach as soon as the ram was pulled back. I heard the dull crack of bones breaking as my men, protected by heavy armor, attacked with fury, wielding their polehammers.
We followed the trail of blood to the center of the fortification. All the civilians who had managed to get inside had taken refuge there. Someone was trying to calm them, but he locked eyes with me the moment I appeared. Behind him, the last defenders died screaming "Allahu akbar" as they hurled themselves against the wall of flesh and steel formed by my best Varangians. They did not last long.
I looked at the hundreds of trembling people before me and then fixed my gaze on the one who seemed to be the religious figure of the place.
"As-salamu alaykum," I said, touching my forehead with my hand before lowering it calmly.
I saw rage ignite in his face the instant those words left my mouth."How dare you attack this place of learning, vile heathen?" he shouted, consumed by fury.
"Perhaps because I'm not a sarakenoi," I replied in a clearly sarcastic tone.
"Roman…" he spat between clenched teeth.
"Correct," I replied as I walked across the room. I noticed several shelves of books and stopped to examine them, since the Varangians had begun looting now that no armed resistance remained.
"The Qur'an, I see… yes, that's what this is," I said, taking one of the volumes and beginning to read it calmly, as if we were not surrounded by prisoners and corpses.
"Leave those books… your vile hands cannot defile them," he shouted in fury.
"Do you even understand the situation you're in?" I replied, turning to look at him. "But these books have no value to me. They can't be sold, and I know they're important to you… oh," I added, taking another volume and leafing through it with interest. "Islamic jurisprudence. This is interesting. I'll take this one. I'm interested in reading it," I said as I slowly turned several pages.
"What will happen to us?" the man asked, his voice breaking.
"History will repeat itself," I replied without emotion. "Just as you enslaved mine, I will enslave you."
Then I turned toward the Varangians, who waited in silence for my orders."What are you waiting for? Come on—chain them," I ordered calmly, without taking my eyes off the book.
The screams began again, filling the interior of the ribat as the Varangians moved into action.
-----------------------------
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.
-------------------------------