Gordon Doherty - Island in the Storm

I beg you to muster your men then hasten to my husband’s side on his campaign to Lake Van. Only there can you shield him from Psellos’ further ruses. .

It took several months for Apion to fully muster his Chaldians, but by late August they were together, marching under a baking sun as they trekked. Their hooves and boots crunched in time to the cicada song as they marched along the dusty track that wound across desert-dry Mesopotamia — the brink of imperial territory. There were fifteen hundred men in all: fifty kataphractoi riders, a smattering of more lightly equipped kursores scout riders plus three vastly-understrength tourmae of skutatoi spearmen and toxotai archers.

Apion tilted his drinking skin back and enjoyed a mouthful of cold spring water. Mercifully, there were plenty of brooks, wells and springs marked on his map of this eastern land. Mesopotamia was not like Chaldia or any of the other themata. There was no strategos here, no levy of land workers for the empire to call upon — indeed, even the populace was desperately meagre. Instead, this land was ruled by the imperial border doukes and patrolled by the mercenary tagmata raised by those men. It was just a few miles more to the southeast and the banks of the upper Euphrates where they were to rendezvous with Emperor Romanus and his campaign army then finally strike out eastwards, to Lake Van. The sister fortress-towns in that distant land were the prize. Apion had never ventured as far east as that much talked of region, yet he was well aware of the delicate balance of power there: a scant Byzantine garrison already held the northerly fortress of Manzikert, but the lakeside fortress of Chliat was thought to be well guarded by a Seljuk warband. Each faction had long sought to hold both. He heard some of his kataphractoi riding behind him sharing their hopes and fears on the matter.

‘Sultan Alp Arslan and all his iron hordes lie in wait by the lake,’ one said. ‘Many thousands of ghulam and ghazi riders.’

‘Nonsense,’ another scoffed. ‘I hear that barely a thousand Seljuks man Chliat’s walls. We will have that fortress in our grasp in good time.’

‘Pah!’ another surly rider countered. ‘Why so much attention on Lake Van anyway? The land is bleak and far from the hub of either empire.’

Apion fell back a little, listening, eager to see how his men reacted to this. He saw one rider dab out his tongue to dampen his lips. It was Kaspax, a young rider who had recently taken the place of his slain father, Atticus, in the ranks of the precious Chaldian kataphractoi. The young man had an answer but was afraid to speak out against the grizzled veterans. Apion caught his eye and gave him an almost imperceptible nod.

‘Because,’ Kaspax started, his eyes darting uncertainly, ‘because the broad tracts of land that run north of the lake are like a weak spot in our flank. They present an unspoilt path from enemy domains in the east, right into the heart of our lands, our ancient themata. The Gateway to Anatolia, they call it.’

Apion met each man’s eyes with a stern gaze. ‘And what an apt moniker, for a stronghold is only as strong as its weakest gate. The Antitaurus Mountains sweep along our empire’s southeastern borders and the Parhar Mountains dominate the north and the east,’ he nodded to that hazy range, ever present in the horizon, ‘like great ramparts that armies cannot traverse without enormous difficulty. But the Lake Van pass is a chink in the armour, a long, flat, broad and snaking route that opens inner Anatolia to all and sundry. The outposts of Manzikert and Chliat serve as fine watchtowers from which to guard the mouth of that route. While our garrison holds the former and the sultan’s men the latter, neither side has the advantage. But should the sultan seize Manzikert, then he will be master of the Gateway. He will be free to pour his armies into these lands,’ he swept a hand back in the direction from which they had come, ‘and upon our homes.’ His men fell silent at the thought. Even the surly rider had paled.

‘That is why our emperor summons us and the rest of his armies to march east at haste, to seize Chliat from Seljuk hands and to make Lake Van our own.’ He clenched a fist and met each of their eyes. ‘So when the sultan comes calling, he will find only a wall of steel and sharpened spears — and the gateway closed to him and his hordes!’

They cheered at this, rapping their spears on their shields. Just behind, the ranks of the infantry joined in for good measure. ‘ Ha-ga!´ they chanted.

Apion rode ahead again, satisfied that he had quelled their doubts and fired their hearts. He started to think ahead, glancing to the sun and judging how far they had to ride before they would be at the Euphrates. Just then, Sha ranged level with him, Kaspax coming with the Malian.

‘We should probably form a vanguard, sir,’ Sha suggested.

Apion squinted into the shimmering golden mountains that lay before them. ‘True, we are at the edge of the empire.’

‘Kaspax here reckons he’s ready to lead the van,’ Sha motioned to the lad.

Apion looked Kaspax over. His tanned features and curly, dark locks were reminiscent of the lad’s father. But the similarities ended there: while everything about Atticus’ demeanour had cried boldness, Kaspax’s taut lips and wide eyes reeked of apprehension. He considered sending Sha on to lead the vanguard instead, then wondered what it might do to the lad’s confidence. Maybe confidence, that delicate flower, is all that is missing? he mused. ‘Take ten riders and stay vigilant,’ he flicked his head forward.

Kaspax issued a stiff salute and set off, waving a clutch of ten horsemen with him.

‘He’s a good rider, sir,’ Sha said, reading Apion’s thoughts. ‘He just needs to understand that. Keeps comparing himself to his father.’

‘Understandable. Atticus was a boisterous big whoreson,’ Apion chuckled, recalling the time the hulking soldier had challenged Blastares to a bout of wrestling after several skins of wine. That had been a messy evening.

With impeccable timing, a snorting noise sounded from behind them. Blastares, leading the infantry there, spat the contents of his throat to the ground then struck up a tuneless chorus to rouse the march-weary men;

‘So I woke in a byre one morning,’

The men perked up and joined in. So I woke in a byre one morning,

‘With me what I thought was a whore,’

With me what I thought was a whore,

‘But when I opened my eyes, I got a mighty surprise,’

But when I opened my eyes, I got a mighty surprise. . the men continued albeit a little more uncertainly.

‘When I saw that I had screwed a boar!’ Blastares roared in a joyous crescendo before falling silent, realising he was singing alone.

The column slowed just a fraction, all the riders looking at Blastares in horror. Apion and Sha shared a bemused glance as the big man reddened in shame.

‘Eyes front!’ Blastares barked to the riders, then twisted to the infantry who had let him down. ‘And you lot, stay in line!’ Red-faced, Blastares ranged forward to join Sha and Apion, cricking his neck this way and that in an overly-vigorous manner. ‘Just trying to lift their spirits. Ungrateful bast — ’

‘How is Tetradia?’ Sha cut in.

Blastares’ mood lifted at once, his humiliation of moments ago forgotten. ‘Wondrous,’ he beamed.

Apion chuckled, recalling the curvaceous and ‘lively’ woman the big soldier had met at Melitene in the previous year’s campaign.

‘Wondrous, aye?’ another voice added. Old Procopius rode level too now, barely suppressing a roguish grin. ‘And I’m sure the wedding will be too.’