Chapter 32: Imperial Offensive
Spring AD 1073,
County of Galaz, Roman Empire
Caesar George, strategos Marapas, his vassal the count of Methone and his Varangian guards rode slowly up the main street of the imperial camp towards the imperial headquarters. It looked busy, but also settled. Caesar George and strategos Marapas shared a significant look. Close by the headquarters stood the various banners of the army. Strategos Marapas quickly counted and leaned over to Caesar George. “No more than half,” he whispered.
Caesar George nodded sourly. They had reached the headquarter tent and they all dismounted. An officer led his guards away to their quarters, while Caesar George, strategos Marapas and count Atrapes of Methone were taken inside the huge tent. A long table divided the room. On side stood all the imperial generals and on the other, various civilians – courtiers as well as officials. At the end of the table sat Emperor Michael on a raised throne drinking wine and looking bored and angry.
“Hail, Caesar,” he said in a slurred voice and spilled half the contents of his cup when he waved a greeting to Caesar George. “Come to give me advice like all the others, eh? Like I haven’t gotten enough already. Talk, talk, talk – that’s all these idiots do. I came here to make war, not talk.”
“I agree,” Caesar George replied cheerfully. “That’s what I brought me here as well.” He looked around. “Got another cup? – I’m thirsty too.”
“That’s my boy!” Emperor Michael bellowed. He snapped his fingers. “Give George a cup!”
A servant hurried up carrying a cup filled with wine on a tray. Caesar George took it, sniffed it, shuddered, took a small sip and shuddered again.
“Good wine, eh?” Emperor Michael asked his eyes glowing.
“Horse piss,” Caesar George answered truthfully.
The room went deadly quiet, but Emperor Michael just laughed. “Right you are, my boy. It’s really bad, but all that can be had here.”
“I see,” Caesar George said and sighed. “Oh well, I didn’t come here for the wine.” He turned the cup upside down and emptied it on the dirt floor.
“No, you just want me to fight your war for you,” Emperor Michael said angrily looking at the red spot.
“Our war, your majesty,” Caesar George replied much more calmly than he felt. “
Our war.”
“Right,” Emperor Michael said and drained his cup without flinching. “So, what do you want then?”
“Send some men to Peresechen – those that are moving to Birlad say…”
“How did you find that out?” Emperor Michael asked sounding angry again.
“Please don’t insult my intelligence,” Caesar George said coldly.
“Not to mention resourcefulness!” Emperor Michael scowled.
Caesar George shrugged. “That too, I suppose. Now, about the war. Those going to Birlad can continue to Peresechen to send the Pechenegs a warning – no land will be given back, while you take the main army and move to Belgorod and take that. The Peresechen are going down.”
“Nice plan,” Emperor Michael said dryly. “Why don’t you have another cup and we can discuss it some more. Draw up a chair, my boy. I’ve just opened a new barrel…”
Caesar George flinched visibly.
* * * * *
Spy Mistress Arete Karaïonatan played hostess for the visiting generals of the imperial army with as much enthusiasm as a convict on the day of his execution. It was not that she really didn’t want them there – though she was in two minds about that – it was the fact that they were much more needed elsewhere – in Peresechen say, or Tirgoviste.
Here, they just drank and ate her stores empty, made free with the women and goods, leaving the locals to bear yet another occupation, which meant what little good-will she build up in the past few weeks leaked out fast.
She spotted one of the bright, young local men she had surrounded herself with, entering the hall at the end. As usual her uninvited guests insulted the Pecheneg as he walked up alongside the huge table, but for once he took no notice – instead he looked ecstatic about something. “Letters, mistress,” he said as he reached the high table, “for you and general Romanos Segouropoulos – from the emperor… Emperor Michael,” he amended seeing the look on general Segouropoulos’ face. “And Caesar George.”
“Well finally,” Arete Karaïonatan said and smiled. She took the offered letter and quickly broke the seal.
“And?” general Segouropoulos asked.
“Peresechen!” Arete Karaïonatan said ecstatically. “You’re going to Peresechen.”
“Going isn’t fighting,” general Segouropoulos said smirkingly. “We’ll be back soon enough. If you can stand being separated from us.”
“I’ll survive.”
* * * * *
“How did it go?” count David Batatzes of Monemvasia asked eagerly as soon as the Caesar George’s party was back in Tirgoviste.
“As well as could be expected,” Caesar George replied looking exhausted. “We got an detachment to evict the besieging army in Peresechen – though they made very little impact on the enemy.”
“Oh?”
“The chickens fled the moment the imperial army turned up. But at least they were chased away for awhile, which means the besieging was reset.”
“They are back then?”
“Oh yes,” Caesar George said and sighed. “They are back – though slightly reduced in numbers. We should be able to win against them next time – if we can get there in time. The main imperial army meanwhile, wiped out the high-chief’s army in Belgorod, but then moved south without besieging the place.”
“Why the hell not?”
“The court of the Emperor is murky,” Caesar George said slowly. “Any attempt to use logic to understand it, is doomed to failure.”
“I see. How was the Emperor?”
“Drunk,” strategos Marapas said with a straight face.
Caesar George turned around and looked at his general. “You are going to tell all, I suppose?”
“Would I do that to you?”
“In a heartbeat! You’re a worse gossip than my spy mistress and that’s saying something.” Caesar George turned back to look at count Batatzes. “Let’s just say we found him drunk and left him drunker. And I had to drink with him.” He shuddered.
“You left out the quality of the wine,” strategos Marapas said laughingly.
“Bad?” count Batatzes asked.
Caesar George had turned green. “I wouldn’t give it to my worst enemy.”
“Perhaps that’s what he did?” count Atrapes said.
“Can’t have,” Caesar George said. “He drank it himself.”
“Actually, we don’t know that,” strategos Marapas said soberly. “The servants kept filling the cups for you and you never saw his cup.”
“No, I did,” Caesar George said feeling sick. “I swapped cups at one point. He actually liked the stuff.” He shuddered. “Anyway, how are we doing here?”
“Bloody good, actually,” count Batatzes said gleefully. “We have been studding an ancient war manual and have figured out a way to use something called Offensive Terrain.”
“Oh?” strategos Marapas asked disbelievingly. “Which manual?”
“Emperor Maurice’s
Strategikon.”
“Old,” strategos Marapas said, “but perhaps it does contain some valuable lessons. Good job.”
“Thank you,” count Batatzes said bubbling over with enthusiasm. “Further more, I’m happy to report Tirgoviste will fall any day now.”
“Excellent,” Caesar George said and clapped his vassal on the shoulder. “Excellent. That should mean we
will get to Peresechen in time.” He looked at his general.
“Yes,” strategos Marapas said slowly. “Yes, I think it does. The mission worked out well after all.”
