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Anno Domini 828, July-14-20
Pov of Shimon
''Who goes there?'' a distant voice said in the tunnel, in Syriac.
''Me'' I replied, moving slowly toward the flickering light of the torch.
The guard looked at me with suspicion as he raised it a little higher. ''What the hell are you doing here…?''
''Oh, come on… I'm not the first one to enter the city through this place, am I? Tell me what the price is'' I said, pulling the coin pouch from my belt and letting it hang in plain sight.
He frowned. ''What are you talking about? I'm afraid I'll have to take you to my superior.''
''Are you sure…?'' I let a few gold and silver coins fall into my hand and brought them closer to the torchlight.
I saw him bite his lower lip, hesitating.
''I see… first time doing this, right?'' I smiled and added two more coins. ''Here you go. So you can treat yourself to something extra.''
The guard swallowed. ''What… what are you doing here…?'' he asked nervously, glancing to both sides as he slipped the coins under his tunic. The torch swayed back and forth, as if he expected someone to emerge from the darkness.
''Come on, if I'm paying you, it's for your silence. The less you know, the better for both of us. But tell me… you've been assigned to this post for a long time, haven't you? That might interest me.''
''Yes… I made a mistake… and they punished me with this watch'' he replied in a low voice.
''Then you'll be seeing me often. What I'm bringing in are amphorae of wine and beer. The same wine you drink at mass'' I said, breaking the seal on one of them.
The guard moistened his lips. ''That is haram… for them.''
''If they catch me, sure. Here, you saw nothing. Ignore me and you save yourself trouble,'' I replied as I sealed the amphora again. ''Now tell me, which way has the least chance of being seen?''
''That way… turn right and then left. You'll reach the lower quarters. That's where the people who sometimes come to clean this enter.''
''Is it open?'' I asked.
''Yes. Nobody comes here voluntarily'' the guard said, kicking a small stone as he lowered his head.
''Good. Thank you. Anyway, if one day you want to buy wine or beer, you'll see me often. Just tell me how much your silence costs so I can consider it.'' I paused before leaving. ''Ah, and a piece of advice: don't spend it all at once. They'll get suspicious. Buy things outside the city if you can.''
''Thanks… though going out to buy things is hard with the Romans causing trouble'' he muttered.
''Bah. They don't attack Christians. Their leader is fairly reasonable'' I said with a shrug as I headed down the path he pointed out.
I moved through the tunnels until I reached the sewer exit. After climbing a long staircase, I emerged onto the surface under the moonlight. I moved carefully, avoiding the city guards, until I reached an inn in the poor quarter of the city. I paid for a room just for myself. I had no desire to share it with strangers.
''What a shit security system… they have a direct entrance into the city with a single guard… and nobody heard me while I was cutting the protective bars,'' I muttered from the window.
From there I could see the walls. They were crawling with guards, with what looked like double or even triple watch. The wālī was nervous, and with good reason. Two of his peers had fallen in a short time.
That strategos, Basil… he had an extensive network of collaborators in his hands. Many of them were merchants, people who hated paying the jizya, which had gone from one gold coin a year to four or five, with gradual increases ordered by the caliph to finance wars against the Romans and other fronts.
On top of that came the new restrictions on wine and beer. Before, they were tolerated in dhimmi quarters. Now, they were not. Only wine used in churches as a religious rite was permitted. And people were more than willing to pay very well for it.
That was how I ended up making a living as a smuggler. I used to have my own brewery. I did well. We lived quietly. But when they tightened the rules, they drove us into ruin and nobody cared. I had no choice but to bring beer in from outside, buying it from those who still produced it far from the walls. My job was to get it inside.
They caught me twice. I paid the fines. I could still feel the lashes from the last time, when they whipped me at the city gates as a warning.
Looking for another way in, I discovered the obvious. Almost all ancient Roman cities had basic sewer systems. Many were damaged by the wrath of God when He made the earth shake violently, or simply by neglect. And the guards assigned to watch them had no interest in spending hours standing knee deep in filth.
That was how, expanding my network, I ended up becoming the largest supplier of wine and beer in Antioch.
One of the merchants I did business with inside the city, the same one who regularly received barrels of beer from me, asked me for a favor. He wanted me to help someone enter Antioch. I found it strange, especially since the city was under siege, but I assumed it was someone willing to sell food at absurd prices. In a siege, food could be worth more than gold.
I agreed. The job was simple: bring him in through the sewers. They offered me almost three times what I usually charged for something like that. I assumed it was because of the added risk, though in truth the risk was low. With all the guards concentrated on the walls and many drinkers who liked me for what I did, nobody seemed particularly interested in enforcing the law underground.
I showed up at the agreed point accompanied by the guards I already had dealings with. They were more nervous than usual, and I didn't understand why until I saw it.
It wasn't one person.
It was a group of Romans. Soldiers. The very army that was besieging the city.
I did not realize what kind of shit I had gotten myself into until it was already too late. I could not say no. In front of me stood men trained to kill, and it was clear that if I refused, I would not leave that place alive.
So I did the only thing I could do. I guided them through the sewer system I knew like the palm of my hand.
I led them through the tunnels, through the sections I knew best, trying to hide myself within the movement itself. To my misfortune, the one commanding them was not satisfied with a discreet entry. He insisted that I lead them all the way to the inner fortress of Antioch once they opened the gates from the inside.
I waited in hiding for what felt like an eternity, unable to get my family out of the city, unable to do anything but listen. Screams. The clash of metal. The dull sound of men dying in the darkness. I stayed still, praying that whoever won would not raze everything to the ground.
When they needed me again, the Romans found me once more. I guided them one last time, all the way to the inner fortress. After that, everything was over.
I was already thinking about rebuilding my brewery. I had the money. I had the contacts. I thought that with the city taken, I could return to my old life.
Then the strategos, the leader of the men who had entered through the sewer system, summoned me.
He wanted me to become his chief of spies in the region. Just because I knew how to smuggle things without anyone noticing. I suppose I am good at this. Much better than making beer.
But I never thought I would end up as a spy.
Much less as the leader of a network of Christians under Abbasid rule. I had contacts spread throughout the Syrian territories, because there were still many who held onto the hope of living under Roman laws and being able to sell beer, wine, or pork without restrictions.
There were people in every city where the strategos carried out internal surveillance, but also surveillance in cities under Abbasid control. Lykandos, Edessa, Melitene, Tripoli, Tyre, and Damascus. I had Christian spies everywhere, and also some sarakenoi. Not voluntarily, of course. In many cases they were guards who had accepted a bribe or who had been caught doing something haram. It was enough to remind them that I could report them to their superiors. That trapped them, unable to say anything, because if they did, they would face severe punishments under Abbasid law.
And now I was in Aleppo.
All the visible surveillance on the walls was nothing compared to the almost nonexistent oversight of the city's sewer system. Apparently, that was the job assigned as punishment to those who made mistakes. Guards who were angry, resentful toward whoever had put them there, and who would do their work poorly if given the chance.
When the sun began to rise, I started moving through the city, avoiding the gaze of most of the guards. I met with local merchants who supposedly sympathized with the idea of returning to life under the Roman banner and finally leaving behind the Abbasid restrictions and the ever increasing taxes.
From them I received a list of names of guards and the places where I could find them to begin conversations. The main objective was to obtain information about what the wālī of Aleppo was doing, though it was also of interest to report on the poor state of the sewer defenses.
Among the rumors circulating through the city, especially in taverns, people constantly spoke about the Romans. They said they were destroying everything in their path. Literally leaving nothing standing, except for some internal fortifications in certain towns. Everything else was burned or reduced to ashes. This had the wālī of Aleppo visibly tense. Many commented that he seemed afraid to go out and stop the pillaging. Even when Roman forces began burning areas near Aleppo, the wālī decided to remain inside the walls and keep the guards on maximum alert.
That decision did not make him very popular among his own men. Some wanted to go out and defend the villages, but the city gates remained closed most of the time. They were only opened at intervals to allow supplies to enter, and even then under extreme surveillance.
So I began contacting guards while, at the same time, selling beer and wine in the city. Those who bought these drinks were usually opposed to Abbasid restrictions and, in many cases, were potential agents. Within a few days, I already had people and merchants sending me rumors of what they heard.
The most recent spoke of Aleppo gathering an enormous quantity of food, brought in from Baghdad. I had no idea why they were stockpiling so many provisions, unless they were preparing for a siege. However, the Roman presence did not seem to point in that direction. They limited themselves to burning everything they found outside their zones of influence.
When the spy network inside Aleppo was ready, after recruiting dozens of people and filling their pockets with silver and gold, I left with confidence in what I had set in motion. My next objective was Damascus. I knew that Abbasid caliphal control was much stronger there and that expanding the network would be difficult, but the strategos needed fresh information.
I returned by the way I had entered, removing the bars I had fixed with mortar and placing them back into position. I left the city and met with several of my agents, who had horses prepared. I ordered them to inform the strategos of everything we had uncovered in Aleppo, in case any of it could be useful to him. Then we mounted and began riding south at a gallop.
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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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