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Anno Domini 828,March-7
"Move! Hurry! The bastard is escaping on horseback!" I shouted, mounting one of the horses in the stable. The few of my men who actually knew how to ride did the same and followed me.
I spurred the horse to full speed, kicking up clouds of dust as we charged forward. The aristocrat was trying to flee; we had caught him in the middle of evacuating the wealth from his estate to escape to another realm, though it was still unclear where exactly he planned to go.
"This will end badly for you no matter what!" I yelled as I closed the distance. The saddlebags on his horse were bulging with valuables, and the fool had refused to abandon them.
"Get lost, lapdog!" the aristocrat shouted back as he continued riding uphill.
I weighed my options—whether to ram his horse, try to kick him off, anything to bring him down—as I narrowed the gap to just a few meters.
The chase continued, but as we reached the crest of the hill and began descending, we spotted a peasant pushing a handcart right in the middle of the road.
The peasant froze as we thundered toward him, then finally reacted—he dragged the cart forward and ran, blocking the aristocrat's path.
At full speed, the aristocrat tried to leap the obstacle. His horse struck the cart with its legs and began spinning midair before crashing down.
"Tch… he's dead," I muttered as the horse crushed its rider on impact, hundreds of gold coins bursting from the saddlebags and scattering across the ground.
The horse staggered, then wandered a short distance away, stopping and staring at its owner's lifeless body—ribs shattered, skull and spine likely broken by the fall.
"Don't even think about it," I told the peasant, who was staring at the spilled gold. "That belongs to the imperial treasury."
I turned as several riders finally caught up and took in the scene.
"Did he fall off his horse?" one of my men asked as he dismounted to inspect the body.
"He flew," I replied. "He blocked his path with that cart. The horse tried to jump it, clipped its legs, and started spinning in the air. The full weight of the horse came down on him."
"The death of a coward," one of the Varangians said with disgust, looking at the corpse. "Helheim awaits those who reject an honorable death in battle."
"I found something," I said, holding up a bundle of letters. "Correspondence. Let's see where he planned to flee… Italy. The traitorous dog was heading to Benevento, then to the Carolingian claimants."
"We caught him just before he reached the sea," one of my men said, gathering the scattered coins. "Looks like many had the same idea—this is the fifth one this week."
"Well… this isn't how the emperor wanted it. He wanted them alive," I said, pocketing the letters. "But what was I supposed to do—order the horse not to kill him? Still, that makes forty-four caught out of one hundred sixty-eight. Doesn't look like we'll have much more luck. The rest are already gone."
"What about the family?" one of my men asked. "Do we leave them behind?"
"The emperor probably wanted them brought to the capital so he could officially strip them of their properties, like the others," I replied as I mounted my horse again. "They may have escaped with some gold, but it won't last long. They'll bleed money trying to settle wherever they land—if pirates don't do us the favor of killing or enslaving them first."
We remounted and returned to the aristocrat's villa, collecting everything of value along the way.
I had been hunting the Empire's greatest tax debtors for two weeks. Others had been assigned similar missions—there were hundreds of aristocrats to pursue—but the leak of Theophilos' plans had been too extensive. Someone close to him had talked.
As a result, many aristocrats fled the city with plenty of time, preparing escapes to foreign courts or other kingdoms. So far, the Carolingian Empire seemed the most common destination, though some were heading east, hoping to curry favor with the Abbasids by selling state secrets—fleet anchorages, patrol routes in Anatolia, things like that.
In most cases we found abandoned villas, with only bulky or heavy valuables left behind. They usually fled by ship, and once that happened, catching them became nearly impossible. By the time the navy could be alerted, they were likely already in Italy.
But sometimes we were lucky. Greed betrayed them.
They wanted to take everything—even if it delayed them long enough for us to catch up. Even when we arrived two or three days late, we often found them selling artwork, ivory-inlaid furniture, jewel-studded pieces—anything they could convert into coin.
Their own avarice sealed their fate.
This one, had he been quicker—had he taken only what was light and easy to carry—would already be safe in Italy, bargaining with Carolingian nobles for protection in exchange for whatever he could offer.
Returning to the coast, we began loading the aristocrat's wealth onto ships for immediate transport to the capital. Time was critical. The moment the Abbasids learned of the emperor's death, they would strike. Every strategos knew it.
Once the news reached them, we would have perhaps a month before the Abbasid offensive began.
To make matters worse, we were in the middle of the campaigning season. They could easily raise an army and march against the imperial frontiers while we were still busy with the manhunts.
Things in the capital were also extremely tense. I had gone back and forth a couple of times, and major purges were underway within the palace administration. Many eunuchs were executed, officials dismissed, a large number of the scholai stripped of rank, and new ones inducted—mostly men who had served his father loyally—filling Theophilos' personal guard with proven loyalists. He also demoted a significant number of officers from the other tagmata stationed in the city, replacing them with men personally loyal to him.
There were even rumors that Theophilos intended to loot the churches as part of his effort to raise funds. That never happened, though it was likely not for lack of desire; the Empire was already preparing for war.
After four days of travel, we returned to the capital. Everything seemed relatively normal. Once the first purges ended, calm returned to the city, and commerce continued to flourish now that piracy had been suppressed.
With a huge portion of the countryside around Constantinople confiscated from the aristocracy, Theophilos suddenly had vast tracts of land at his disposal. He wasted no time launching a massive recruitment of themata, with one crucial modification. Traditionally, the value of land granted was two Roman pounds of gold; Theophilos reduced it to one pound, with the intention of recruiting more men than ever before. At the same time, he personally covered the cost of equipping the recruits, using the fortune seized from the aristocrats.
Thus Constantinople—already the largest city in the Mediterranean—was becoming a massive recruitment hub. People from surrounding regions poured in, drawn by the immediate grant of farmland, vineyards, or olive groves in exchange for military service. It was expected that Theophilos would raise around eighty thousand new thematic troops, divided into two-year rotations instead of the usual four, at least temporarily, given the urgency of the situation.
After unloading everything we had captured—around one hundred thousand nomismata in value, much of it luxury goods still awaiting sale—I walked through the city streets with my escort toward the house I had been granted. The emperor had furnished it generously, having warehouses overflowing with luxury items seized during the confiscations.
As I made my way through the city, I came upon a massive crowd gathered in one of the streets occupied by shoemakers and leatherworkers.
"Well… what is the basileus Rhōmaiōn doing here?" I muttered, seeing Theophilos mounted on his horse, while a group of artisans knelt and the scholai restrained a man .
"My lord… I swear… we paid what was due… but the tax collector demanded more and more… we had nothing left to give, or we wouldn't have been able to buy materials. We would have gone bankrupt," one of the kneeling men pleaded.
"What does the wax tablet say?" Theophilos asked, looking at one of the scholai, who began to read.
"Collected… twenty-three nomismata and one hundred twenty-one miliaresion, my basileus Rhōmaiōn," the scholai reported.
"And how much was the collector carrying?" Theophilos asked, turning to another guard who held a pouch and began counting.
"Far more than declared, my basileus Rhōmaiōn… far more… likely double," the guard replied.
"You, filth," Theophilos said coldly, staring at the tax collector. "I did not grant authority to collect taxes in my city so you could abuse my people. Return everything collected to its owners. I declare the taxes paid and this official's actions invalid. I sentence him to death by hanging."
"I beg for mercy, my basileus Rhōmaiōn," the man cried, trying to kneel.
"Remove this scum from my sight," Theophilos shouted.
"Mercy… my basileus… mercy!" the collector screamed as he was dragged away.
Theophilos' eyes lingered on me for a moment, then shifted to the mass of people surrounding him.
"You need not fear," he declared. "They answer to my authority, and any man who abuses it will be punished with the full weight of the law."
With that, he turned his horse and began to ride away.
The scholai formed a protective ring around him, then quickly moved aside as he approached me.
"Strategos, I didn't expect to see you here," Theophilos said with clear satisfaction. "It seems your shoes wore out chasing Constantinople's rats."
"It's the fastest route to my house, my basileus Rhōmaiōn… and we delivered everything we captured. It seems the rest managed to escape," I replied with a slight nod.
"Walking through the rabble, hmm…?" he said, lifting a cloth to his nose. "The stench is terrible… and it seems people don't know how to use the baths. There are baths that cost less than a day's wage… and their manners… atrocious… worse than yours when we first met," he added, glancing at the onlookers.
"Sometimes it's a choice between food on the table or a bath, my basileus Rhōmaiōn," I replied calmly. "And without teachers, they never learn proper conduct."
"Well… when you put it that way…" Theophilos said thoughtfully.
"I'll continue on to my property and submit my formal report tomorrow, my basileus Rhōmaiōn," I said, bowing slightly.
"No," he replied. "Come with me. We need to talk. I need a massive shipment of armor, and negotiations are in order—so it's better if you don't stay away from the palace."
"I appreciate the invitation, my basileus Rhōmaiōn. I'll be glad to," I answered, adopting my most formal tone.
"Excellent. Let's go," Theophilos said, signaling his scholai to clear the way back toward the palace.
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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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