Chief Sagura shaded his eyes as he peered to the east. He sat upon his steed and realized that a small border fort was standing near a small river. It was surrounded by a group of Seljuks. There was little activity in either the fort or the Seljuk camp. He looked over to his men. All three thousand of them. He had started with many more, but the battles they had fought by the side of General Andros had whittled down their numbers rather significantly.
He sighed, an impressive sound from the whipcord thin man. They had done little of the fighting that they had learned from General Leonides. Andros fought in a more conservative fashion. It wasn’t until the last week that he had allowed the Pechengs to range further afield. He turned and looked back at the dust and the sounds of battle to the south and west.
He was torn between racing back to lend support to the legions or succoring the obviously besieged fort. He tugged at his wispy beard and shook his head in frustration.
“My chieftain,” one of his men spoke up,” I believe it would be prudent to return to the legion.”
“That fort has held out for months,” another snapped,” We should rescue them. They have fought to survive and we should get them out of there.”
Sagura ground his teeth. He knew what he should do. He should return to the legions. But he knew that Leonides would want the survivors in the fort to be rescued. He groaned and shook his head slowly.
“We rescue the survivors,” he grated,” Attack!”
The Pechengs thundered down the slight rise toward the Seljuk camp. Men slowly began to stir in response to the obvious threat. But their slow movements belied their terror. Arrows arced into the sky to impale Seljuks beginning to brandish weapons. More streamed from the horse bows of the Pechengs.
Seljuks continued to fall, some screaming in agony as arrows pierced vital areas of their bodies. It didn’t take long for those capable of really fighting to coalesce into a small knot of men ready to repel a cavalry charge. Unfortunately for them, the Pechengs sat back and slaughtered them long distance by arrow storm. Sagura turned toward the fort and trotted forward.
“Hail the fort! I am Chief Sagura of the Pechengs. I follow the General Andros! His legions are only a scant few miles away,” he bellowed,” We have come to rescue you.”
A grizzled man peered over the wall,” I am Captain Aristedes! We have quite a few women and children with us, Chief. We aren’t going to be moving very quickly, I fear.”
“Take whatever you can carry and we will guard you,” Sagura replied swiftly,” We need to swing wide of the battle and get behind the legions so that you can continue on your way west.”
“Sounds good to me,” Aristedes replied, turning away briefly,” Gather what you can carry. We leave immediately!”
In less than fifteen minutes the gate swung open and first the garrison marched out. It was a bare pitiful remnant. Following were the women and children who walked out, some carrying some small items from homes destroyed by the Seljuks. A few wounded men were carried in litters by the most fit of the wounded. Sagura resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He just knew that this was going to take all day to accomplish.
He gazed at Captain Aristedes. The man had lost weight during the siege, but he still showed an amazing vitality for a man who was obviously in his senior years. He nodded respectfully and motioned to his senior bannerman.
“Take a unit and see how the battle progresses,” he ordered.
The man nodded and gathered twenty men. They galloped off toward the sound of battle.
Sagura sighed and turned to Aristedes,” I’m glad you survived, Captain. But we need to get moving.”
“Absolutely,” Aristedes agreed,” Let’s move out, people! We have a lot of ground to cover today.”
The survivors began to walk quickly to the north and west. The Pechengs surrounded them with most of their force while strong patrols ranged out from it in all directions. They had barely covered a mile when the bannerman and his men galloped back toward them. They reined in as their leader continued on to Sagura.
“My chieftain,” he began,” The battle goes poorly.”
“What is happening?” Sagura inquired.
“The condottorie Cataphracti have turned on the legions,” the man reported softly,” The fourth legion has been decimated by the surprise attack. They are barely holding them off. The Seljuks attack at will from the front. The legions front lines are bowing inward.”
Sagura swore venomously in his own language. He turned toward Aristedes slowly.
“You heard?” he inquired mildly.
Aristedes nodded slowly,” I did.”
“I will keep 200 men here with you, but you will have to keep moving,” Sagura replied grimly,” I must take the rest of my men and help General Andros. If anything to help him extricate as many of his men as he can from this catastrophy.”
“You must do as you must,” Aristedes responded in a grim voice,” We will continue to move to the north and west. Perhaps we can reach the coast.”
“It would be prudent to do so,” Sagura agreed,” I have no doubt that the remnants of the legions will be hot upon your heels.”
Aristedes nodded,” We will need to go faster!”
Sagura nodded to his bannerman again,” You will command 200 men to get these people to safety.”
“I would rather….”
“I understand,” Sagura interrupted,” But Lord Leonides would want these brave souls rescued. You must do it. I must try and help General Andros salvage what he can from this battle.”
“As you command.”
Sagura led the rest of the Pechengs toward the raging battle. Aristedes bowed his head briefly and uttered a whispered prayer before beginning to herd his people onward. They walked for hours. The sounds of battle finally faded behind them, but he did not allow anyone to slow their pace. There was no telling how quickly Seljuks might be coming after them.
By the time darkness fell they had managed to put 10 miles between them and the battle. No one knew how it had ended. Whether the Romans had managed to pull victory out of the jaws of seeming defeat, or perhaps their bodies were now lying bloody upon the field of battle while the Seljuks swept forward.
Either way, his people were exhausted. They had to rest.
“No camp fires,” Aristedes ordered,” I have no desire to show the Seljuks just where we are. We rest and leave at the dawning of sun’s light.”
All of them stopped and dropped where they were. There was little order to it. The garrison soldiers set up a perimeter under the sharp eye of Denes. The Pechengs shared some of their rations and most of them rolled up in their blankets while others rode out quietly to do night patrols.
The sounds of the wind through the scrub seemed oddly loud in the night. The odd jangle from horse tack or the stamping of a horse’s hooves were the only other sounds. Fortunately the moon was only a mere sliver in the sky which would help keep them hidden.
The young lad, Lysander, rolled himself up in a small blanket and fell asleep. He feet hurt and he was exhausted, but he felt a slight tremor of hope in his bones. He just might live to see another day. Another day where he might get the chance to kill a Seljuk or two. He had positioned himself a few paces away from Aristedes.
The makeshift camp settled into exhausted slumber. Only a few soft snores drifted into the wind.
