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Chapter 17 - Ashina Grows, Khazaria Strikes
Chapter 17 - Ashina Grows, Khazaria Strikes
January 13, 874 AD
There had been more traffic than usual around Theodosia in the past weeks. The camp's capacities for horses and recruits had been expanded further, and the lands saw ever more travelers, be they simple nomadic communities or in official mission. Chancellor Ezra had received word of a very interesting development in the crumbling Magyar Khaganate. After the last time, he figured, it would probably be better to not just prepare a note. He made his way to Zachariah's yurt, where the Khan would spend most of the time since the birth of his children.
Earlier...
When Asli had come home for the final months of her pregnancy (which Zachariah – and, in secret, many people in the Ashina lands - still doubted to be legitimate), she promised to Zachariah that her years in Bahgdad would not have been in vain and he would see soon.
Weeks later, a strange letter arrived, from a man Zachariah had never heard about. It hadn't been brought by a squire, as usual – it was just there when Zachariah came back to his yurt after a particularly important diplomatic dinner. Its content was illegible mumble-jumble, and the confused Zachariah first suspected a mistake or the ravings of a madman having slipped through.
Asli smiled and handed him a note. "Try it with this little translation helper."
The code wasn't hard to decipher once you knew how to. Zachariah's eyes grew wide.
Before him was an extensive overview of how the Arabian lords competed and cooperated with the clergy, the administration and their court to ensure their highlighted position was inherently justified. Reports of statesmanship no one in the Steppes had thought about yet. This would be very valuable.
Zachariah looked at his wife with admiration. After the fight about her alleged infidelity, he had not heard of her until her returning. When Asli came back, they had agreed that nothing good could ever come from debating the issue and promised each other to drop it for good. Seeing her now, caressing her womb and patiently waiting for his reaction, touched him. Maybe she had not lied after all and he had impregnated her after the feast for his twins' Brit Mila. And under these conditions, she had gone back to Arabia and doubled her efforts, as it seemed.
For the first time, he truly viewed her as a Khanum. And Asli sensed it without many words. They would spend the evening deciphering knowledge about Arabian majesty and making plans for their child to come.
Later in November, and much less clandestine, the Byzantine fleet showed on the horizon, quickly making their way to Cherson where the Imperial Army was still holding camp. When they approached the coast with purple sails blown and golden crosses all over, displaying a splendor that had to be unique to the Roman Empire itself, the view was awe-inspiring. The eyewitnesses spoke of hundreds upon hundreds of ships, although that was probably somewhat overexaggerated.
Ezra, always informed, figured that the reason was a religious uprising in the Byzantine heartland quickly gaining traction, something that was bound to happen sooner or later in a realm that large and populous. There was some scorn in the Ashina general staff about the Emperor's strategic decision-making, even more so when it turned out that the whole army would still be too large to fit on the eighty-odd galleys that had been sent. A few hundred of the Byzantine troops had to be disbanded and make their own way back home.
Only days after they had left, on the break of December, Asli gave birth to Zachariah's first daughter. The joy was great, and Asli and the newborn took the birth so unscathed that she vowed to go back to Arabia as soon as little Ikalay was sure to be in the best hands, stating she had a duty to fulfill and no reason to wait.
On the last day of the Christian year, Manasseh's heralds arrived in numbers, shouting out the tale of the Khagan's marvelous victory on the banks of the Pripyat river. 3200 men against more than 4600. The combined forces of Dyre and Rurik. Every Varangian warrior in the Russian lands. A force nearly as large as in Chernigov, while Manasseh's host was on his own this time.
And the Khazarian hordes had handed them another devastating loss.
Once again, the peasant armies the Varangians were fielding had no opposition to offer to the well-trained warriors, every single of them on horseback, that the Clans were bringing to the battle. More than half the men of Dyre and Rurik died, while only about 300 Khazarian lives were lost. Apart from crushing Dyre's last chance of resisting, this was also a large boon to Manasseh's campaign in total and it was now entirely realistic again for him to subjugate Dyre's lands before they could be torn apart by the contenders whose number had grown to five in the meantime.
Surely Adonai himself had smiled on the hordes this day.
When Ezra arrived at Zachariah's place, he was respectfully greeted by the guard, who announced his arrival. When no response was to be heard, the guard promised to be back immediately. Ezra heard ruffling on a tent flap, mumbling and what had to be Virág's bright laugh from inside. With Asli back in Bagdad, she (and a whole band of maids) took care of the Khan's three infant children.
After a few minutes, Ezra was bid inside and met a slightly ruffled Zachariah with a stain of milk on his beard. The twins were growing well and crawling about the yurt, playing catch and hitting each other with tiny fists while laughing heartily. Always professional to the last, Ezra hid his amusement. Being a father was obviously no less packed with responsibilities than being a Khan.
"My Khan, I'm sorry to disturb you at what is obviously not the best of times -"
"What do you mean?"
"I'm just asserting you are doubtlessly busy, as a father of three and a Khan always is. But as for your orders after the misfortunate handling of the situation after Jenö Töhötöm's death, I'm bringing you highly urgent news from his successor."
Zachariah was suddenly far more attentive. "The pagan still holding undefended lands at our border. Pleasant memories", and he smiled in the direction of his families' compartment. "Is he dead too?"
"No. But he's not the ruler of Odessa as of now. This guy his father had named Khan, Somogy Csongor – he has rebelled despite being exactly as powerless as Jenö, calling for independence. It's quite a comical scenery. None of the two has enough troops do actually do something against the other, so they are keeping to their own camps and staring at each other. Anyway, as long as Csongor is not brought back to Csaba's lands, we're free to attack him."
"Those last words were what I wanted to hear. Assemble the council and make them officially approve. Everybody should know the due course of action by now."
And this was what Ezra did. Year eight of Zachariah's reign had broken, and the troops were again packing and preparing.
January 13, 874 AD
There had been more traffic than usual around Theodosia in the past weeks. The camp's capacities for horses and recruits had been expanded further, and the lands saw ever more travelers, be they simple nomadic communities or in official mission. Chancellor Ezra had received word of a very interesting development in the crumbling Magyar Khaganate. After the last time, he figured, it would probably be better to not just prepare a note. He made his way to Zachariah's yurt, where the Khan would spend most of the time since the birth of his children.
Earlier...
When Asli had come home for the final months of her pregnancy (which Zachariah – and, in secret, many people in the Ashina lands - still doubted to be legitimate), she promised to Zachariah that her years in Bahgdad would not have been in vain and he would see soon.
Weeks later, a strange letter arrived, from a man Zachariah had never heard about. It hadn't been brought by a squire, as usual – it was just there when Zachariah came back to his yurt after a particularly important diplomatic dinner. Its content was illegible mumble-jumble, and the confused Zachariah first suspected a mistake or the ravings of a madman having slipped through.
Asli smiled and handed him a note. "Try it with this little translation helper."
The code wasn't hard to decipher once you knew how to. Zachariah's eyes grew wide.
Before him was an extensive overview of how the Arabian lords competed and cooperated with the clergy, the administration and their court to ensure their highlighted position was inherently justified. Reports of statesmanship no one in the Steppes had thought about yet. This would be very valuable.
Zachariah looked at his wife with admiration. After the fight about her alleged infidelity, he had not heard of her until her returning. When Asli came back, they had agreed that nothing good could ever come from debating the issue and promised each other to drop it for good. Seeing her now, caressing her womb and patiently waiting for his reaction, touched him. Maybe she had not lied after all and he had impregnated her after the feast for his twins' Brit Mila. And under these conditions, she had gone back to Arabia and doubled her efforts, as it seemed.
For the first time, he truly viewed her as a Khanum. And Asli sensed it without many words. They would spend the evening deciphering knowledge about Arabian majesty and making plans for their child to come.
Later in November, and much less clandestine, the Byzantine fleet showed on the horizon, quickly making their way to Cherson where the Imperial Army was still holding camp. When they approached the coast with purple sails blown and golden crosses all over, displaying a splendor that had to be unique to the Roman Empire itself, the view was awe-inspiring. The eyewitnesses spoke of hundreds upon hundreds of ships, although that was probably somewhat overexaggerated.
Ezra, always informed, figured that the reason was a religious uprising in the Byzantine heartland quickly gaining traction, something that was bound to happen sooner or later in a realm that large and populous. There was some scorn in the Ashina general staff about the Emperor's strategic decision-making, even more so when it turned out that the whole army would still be too large to fit on the eighty-odd galleys that had been sent. A few hundred of the Byzantine troops had to be disbanded and make their own way back home.
Only days after they had left, on the break of December, Asli gave birth to Zachariah's first daughter. The joy was great, and Asli and the newborn took the birth so unscathed that she vowed to go back to Arabia as soon as little Ikalay was sure to be in the best hands, stating she had a duty to fulfill and no reason to wait.
On the last day of the Christian year, Manasseh's heralds arrived in numbers, shouting out the tale of the Khagan's marvelous victory on the banks of the Pripyat river. 3200 men against more than 4600. The combined forces of Dyre and Rurik. Every Varangian warrior in the Russian lands. A force nearly as large as in Chernigov, while Manasseh's host was on his own this time.
And the Khazarian hordes had handed them another devastating loss.
Once again, the peasant armies the Varangians were fielding had no opposition to offer to the well-trained warriors, every single of them on horseback, that the Clans were bringing to the battle. More than half the men of Dyre and Rurik died, while only about 300 Khazarian lives were lost. Apart from crushing Dyre's last chance of resisting, this was also a large boon to Manasseh's campaign in total and it was now entirely realistic again for him to subjugate Dyre's lands before they could be torn apart by the contenders whose number had grown to five in the meantime.
Surely Adonai himself had smiled on the hordes this day.
When Ezra arrived at Zachariah's place, he was respectfully greeted by the guard, who announced his arrival. When no response was to be heard, the guard promised to be back immediately. Ezra heard ruffling on a tent flap, mumbling and what had to be Virág's bright laugh from inside. With Asli back in Bagdad, she (and a whole band of maids) took care of the Khan's three infant children.
After a few minutes, Ezra was bid inside and met a slightly ruffled Zachariah with a stain of milk on his beard. The twins were growing well and crawling about the yurt, playing catch and hitting each other with tiny fists while laughing heartily. Always professional to the last, Ezra hid his amusement. Being a father was obviously no less packed with responsibilities than being a Khan.
"My Khan, I'm sorry to disturb you at what is obviously not the best of times -"
"What do you mean?"
"I'm just asserting you are doubtlessly busy, as a father of three and a Khan always is. But as for your orders after the misfortunate handling of the situation after Jenö Töhötöm's death, I'm bringing you highly urgent news from his successor."
Zachariah was suddenly far more attentive. "The pagan still holding undefended lands at our border. Pleasant memories", and he smiled in the direction of his families' compartment. "Is he dead too?"
"No. But he's not the ruler of Odessa as of now. This guy his father had named Khan, Somogy Csongor – he has rebelled despite being exactly as powerless as Jenö, calling for independence. It's quite a comical scenery. None of the two has enough troops do actually do something against the other, so they are keeping to their own camps and staring at each other. Anyway, as long as Csongor is not brought back to Csaba's lands, we're free to attack him."
"Those last words were what I wanted to hear. Assemble the council and make them officially approve. Everybody should know the due course of action by now."
And this was what Ezra did. Year eight of Zachariah's reign had broken, and the troops were again packing and preparing.
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Both Mannesah and Zacharia have proved to be better rulers than expected, whats the situation in terms of Manessahs heir, and would it be possible for Zacharia to somehow be elected the new Khagan?
Until now, Zachariah hasn't been thinking for a second about challenging a guy with such a strong run as Manasseh who's only in his mid-thirties and also has an adult son who's earning his spores as a mercenary as he should. That's why there has been little information on that.
The Khaganate succession is similar to the Khanates, with the notable exception that children can't be Khagan and instead, the Khan with the highest prestige is "promoted".
And yeah, they are both going pretty strong - more than I expected. That sweeping victory with lower numbers was the first time I recognized how far superior nomads apparently are to tribal armies.
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At least if there's nothing to lose.
The situation in Magyar keeps playing right into his hands.
Chapter 18 - New Neighbourhood
Chapter 18 - New Neighbourhood
August, 874 AD
Zachariah was right - everybody knew the course of action. When the Ashina troops were sent into Odessa, they obliterated the garrison, this time killing or capturing every last man. The resulting sacking of the settlement in Odessa had only been a matter of days.
But this rebel lord proved to be a special kind of proud. When the Ashina ambassadors approached his court, as they had in the two wars before, Csongor plain-out refused the notion of a battle having taken place in Odessa. Objections about where his troops had gone then or if the Ashina army had been collectively seeing ghosts were unsuccessful, and the Ashina diplomats left empty-handed and somewhat confused.
Luckily, his council seemed to have taken control shortly thereafter and soon the capitulation offer arrived. Some more prudent people than Csongor apparently wanted to keep a remote chance of a successful rebellion (though the appeal of being Khagan of Magyar was questionable).
The Ashina had driven the Magyars off the Black Sea coast in only a few years, and now they had two new neighbours: the mighty Kingdom of Bulgaria, who was in constant conflict with their old aquaintance Árpád Álmos who had taken a sizeable chunk of their former lands, and the decidedly less impressive Duchy of Moldavia.
Both of them were much different in all aspects from the realms in the steppes. People had settled in these lands for thousands of years. They had built villages, towns, cities, fortifications over the time. Their houses were made of wood and stone. Walls towered high where their Counts and Dukes resided. The population density and the according lifestyle called for a much different leadership, with kings relying upon vassals who were in turn relying on vassals of theirs, and everyone had to provide troops and taxes upwards and downwards. At the bottom were the serfs, desolate paupers who could inspire the compassion of even the hardiest Khazarian warrior. Sure, life in the steppes was hard and unforgiving, often brutal and sometimes short, but at least every man was essentially free and equal. He could only be held to his own oaths, and it was up to everyone's self to prove strength and honor. Those people were sentenced to be born in the dirt and die in the dirt, long before they were even conceived.
It was a whole new world.
One that the troops soon pouring into Moldavia from Odessa did not care much for. They were there for the more profane material aspects of those lands now bordering theirs and spread terror through the countryside wherever they turned up. A few weeks later, the sieging of Cherson, which had not recovered from the previous sack of its fort, resumed too.
A few days' ride farther north, Dyre the Stranger held on to his land desperately though near every patch of it had by now been seized by one of his six opponents. The only thing that still kept each of them from imposing their demands that no single attacker could seize enough land for himself to actually claim victory. In this unusual stalemate, there was the sudden notice of the Khazarian host now heading eastwards. Apparently Manasseh had figured that the war was won, and while there was nothing to do in Könugardr he wouldn't have a brazen tributary pillage his own lands.
Just as the Khazarian army had been pulled out of Könugardian borders, the Yatvingians came around to press their victory, took Volkovysk for themselves and lifted the occupation of four further counties. The other Russian rulers, whose armies had stayed in the area, moved to their own sieges.
Why the Khazarian army kept riding east instead of closing in on Dyre is lost to history. Maybe the messager had an accident or there had ben a miscommunication. Maybe they knew after all and it was a case of ill leadership. In any case, it is known that no Khazarian soldier was to be seen in defeated Dyre's lands for months while Drevliania and Polotsk continued to carve it apart.
August, 874 AD
Zachariah was right - everybody knew the course of action. When the Ashina troops were sent into Odessa, they obliterated the garrison, this time killing or capturing every last man. The resulting sacking of the settlement in Odessa had only been a matter of days.
But this rebel lord proved to be a special kind of proud. When the Ashina ambassadors approached his court, as they had in the two wars before, Csongor plain-out refused the notion of a battle having taken place in Odessa. Objections about where his troops had gone then or if the Ashina army had been collectively seeing ghosts were unsuccessful, and the Ashina diplomats left empty-handed and somewhat confused.
Luckily, his council seemed to have taken control shortly thereafter and soon the capitulation offer arrived. Some more prudent people than Csongor apparently wanted to keep a remote chance of a successful rebellion (though the appeal of being Khagan of Magyar was questionable).
The Ashina had driven the Magyars off the Black Sea coast in only a few years, and now they had two new neighbours: the mighty Kingdom of Bulgaria, who was in constant conflict with their old aquaintance Árpád Álmos who had taken a sizeable chunk of their former lands, and the decidedly less impressive Duchy of Moldavia.
Both of them were much different in all aspects from the realms in the steppes. People had settled in these lands for thousands of years. They had built villages, towns, cities, fortifications over the time. Their houses were made of wood and stone. Walls towered high where their Counts and Dukes resided. The population density and the according lifestyle called for a much different leadership, with kings relying upon vassals who were in turn relying on vassals of theirs, and everyone had to provide troops and taxes upwards and downwards. At the bottom were the serfs, desolate paupers who could inspire the compassion of even the hardiest Khazarian warrior. Sure, life in the steppes was hard and unforgiving, often brutal and sometimes short, but at least every man was essentially free and equal. He could only be held to his own oaths, and it was up to everyone's self to prove strength and honor. Those people were sentenced to be born in the dirt and die in the dirt, long before they were even conceived.
It was a whole new world.
One that the troops soon pouring into Moldavia from Odessa did not care much for. They were there for the more profane material aspects of those lands now bordering theirs and spread terror through the countryside wherever they turned up. A few weeks later, the sieging of Cherson, which had not recovered from the previous sack of its fort, resumed too.
A few days' ride farther north, Dyre the Stranger held on to his land desperately though near every patch of it had by now been seized by one of his six opponents. The only thing that still kept each of them from imposing their demands that no single attacker could seize enough land for himself to actually claim victory. In this unusual stalemate, there was the sudden notice of the Khazarian host now heading eastwards. Apparently Manasseh had figured that the war was won, and while there was nothing to do in Könugardr he wouldn't have a brazen tributary pillage his own lands.
Just as the Khazarian army had been pulled out of Könugardian borders, the Yatvingians came around to press their victory, took Volkovysk for themselves and lifted the occupation of four further counties. The other Russian rulers, whose armies had stayed in the area, moved to their own sieges.
Why the Khazarian army kept riding east instead of closing in on Dyre is lost to history. Maybe the messager had an accident or there had ben a miscommunication. Maybe they knew after all and it was a case of ill leadership. In any case, it is known that no Khazarian soldier was to be seen in defeated Dyre's lands for months while Drevliania and Polotsk continued to carve it apart.
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Subbed. I got some catching up to do before I can comment.
What I have read is interesting and a different topic than I seen before. Zachariah has got a lot to do to save his people.
What I have read is interesting and a different topic than I seen before. Zachariah has got a lot to do to save his people.
Gaining the black sea could have unintended consequences, Magyar provided a nice buffer against Bulgaria but now Ashina Clan directly borders what looks to be a dangerous neighbor. Also im assuming that Nomads cant gain access to ships?
Thanks for tuning in! "Whiteshirts of England" has been a major inspiration, glad to have you as a reader.
Theoretically they can, but as they have only one province to develop it's close to impossible to put up a fleet that can actually make a strategical difference. Naval raiding might become an option though.
Bulgaria hasn't shown much interest until now as they've been mostly busy trying to gain their territory back from Hungary. But they'll sure watch for weaknesses. A little more on Bulgaria in the coming chapter.
Chapter 19 - New Contacts and a Parting
Chapter 19 - New Contacts and a Parting
Autumn, 874 AD
The spies in Baghdad continued to send encrypted messages in the coming months. Khanum Asli had upped the ante again after the birth of her first child to Zachariah, working on analyzing the Arabian progress tiredlessly – and she was not soon going to stop proving her worth. When she visited Theodosia in October, as she now did more frequently to better keep track of the developments at home, she had an announcement. This time Zachariah did not put her in doubt.
Instead, in the course of the following week he started to deeply contemplate whether it was maybe time for something new in his life, a new direction. He had three children now, with a fourth on the way. The bloodline was growing to be more stable than it had been for decades, and if it would continue that way his yurt would soon get crowded. It was time to make sure they actually had something to inherit.
Zachariah remembered his chancellor's words from his very first council meeting as Khan – going alone would be a quick way to lose everything. Now that he had a family to show for, he needed people to trust.
When he presented Ezra with his new approach to things, the chancellor was unsurprisingly approving and advised him that a near infallible way to earn the trust and respect of people was offering them his hospitality and thus get to spend time with them. Appearing generous and open-minded would also help his general reputation. "At least,my Khan, if the remark is allowed, over snooping around and slandering people behind their backs."
Zachariah pretended he hadn't got the less than subtle criticism. He knew he needed Ezra's help. Diplomacy, the art of wording things so that people didn't get upset all the time, had never been the focus of his interest and most people had no business telling him how to treat them anyway. He was the Khan, after all. In the end, Ezra's argument carried weight that the people whose help he could use sooner or later could be Khans too.
In the two months since, Zachariah had undertaken a crash course in etiquette and rhetorics and had his court make preparations to be able to host a guest of even the most noble blood with all due amenities. He hadn't expected small tweaks to his manners to have a profound impact on people's reactions to his person. It turned out they did, and Zachariah found himself treated quite differently – less condescending by his councillors and the other Khans, more dignified by the lowborn.
Or maybe that was just the effect of him now being Khan for quite a while without things going all too bad. The only hostile troops their lands had seen in years were Bulçan's raiders (who had the courtesy to leave quickly) and large Byzantine hosts on their way to defend Cherson. He had even expanded the Ashina territory to the edge of Europe, securing pastures for a steadily growing population and putting the Ashina on a lot of maps (though everyone knew how weak the remainder of the Magyars was).
December 2, 874 AD
Just this morning, the next good news had come in. The troops raiding in Cherson had profited from the stronghold that guarded the access to the rest of the land still being in disrepair from the last visit. They had passed without any difficulty, and now sacked and plundered the city of Neapol. The first caravan with plundered goods was already on the way. Word was of loot worth 30 gold pieces, or even more.
If their remote outposts are that rich, Zachariah thought, what must Constantinople look like? I have to see that with my own eyes one day.
That was when Yeldem appeared in the tent flap. "A word, Khan Zachariah?" she asked with pretended subservience, and both of them smiled broadly. Their relationship had solidified over the past years. Yeldem had recognized at some point that her brother, despite all his flaws and though he likely wasn't going to change anymore, had grown with his responsibilities. Zachariah, in turn, had always appreciated Yeldem's tireless efforts for the realm and her absolute loyalty, but nowadays he also knew not to take her occasional sassiness for scorn or belittlement. Yeldem's wits got the better of her sometimes, but she was never deliberately undermining his authority.
"It's probably going to take a while.
You know I've accompanied Ezra and his envoy to the court of King Boris of Bulgaria for our first official visit with our new neighbours, right?
It was a whole new world, brother. I can't even start describing how different to everything we know. And I am now more sure than ever that I'm longing for a change of surroundings."
Zachariah frowned. "What do you mean?"
Yeldem grinned. "Oh please, brother. What could I mean after all? Have you ever seen a Jewish nun?
The Bulgarian king happens to have a son who seemed to be all crazy about me. I can't say exactly the same about him, but he seems like a decent man – and he's a Duke and standing to inherit more land upon his fifty-year-old father's demise. Maybe he'll even be King one day – there's only one older brother above him in the line of succession. I've always wanted to marry a prince, Zachariah. I wanna have children, I wanna see more of the world than the plains of Ashina, as beautiful as they are."
She smiled, almost wistfully. "And I'm 28 now. The chances won't improve, considering most Christians aren't as fond of interreligious marriage."
Her brother was in shock. "Marry? You? But – but what about....You wanna leave Ashina? I mean....you're kind of...."
Yeldem was still smiling. "Kind of what?"
Zachariah collected himself. "You're my sister, and you carry the blood of Muhan. What about that ancient heritage? Your children would be of his dynasty, and no one would even remember their children's great ancestry. You're also a councillor and...who would I ask if I don't know what to think of something?"
"You're not an idiot, Zach. And you have plenty of advice if you just ask the right people. You know you can count on your men, and it's completely up to you who to appoint as the new general advisor. There's plenty of people in the court waiting for a chance to prove themselves.
As for the bloodline, I already mentioned that it complicates things that we're Jewish and no one out of Khazaria is. It's close to a miracle that Boris seems to be willing to even consider something like that. A matrilineal marriage would only be accepted by some local lowborns. I won't lie – I would have to contemplate that if you had no children for whatever reason. But that's safely out of question now. The succession is as stable as it gets and there's no longer a real need for me to have Ashina babies with some semi-talented Theodosian lout. One of the reasons that originally got me thinking."
Zachariah's resistance was waning. He had known this day would have to come eventually and he was never inclined to overrule Yeldem's wishes for her own fate.
"Is that Bulgarian guy talented?"
Yeldem replied light-heartedly. "Simeon is the name. He's a prince and a duke in a large, wealthy kingdom next to us. That's gotta count for something. And while he's certainly no genius – and has a rather hilarious little speech defect - he's said to have potential."
"Where is his Duchy after all? If you two marry, that means we're taking up diplomatic relations, right?"
"Kind of. The whole hierarchy balance is a little different – and much more complicated - in the European Kingdoms than in our Khaganates. What's important is that a marriage carries no obligations to you other than a mutual renouncement to declare war or raid territories - with Simeon, not his father. It's well possible to form a proper military alliance this way if both sides choose to – that's a version of the Blood Brotherships our people know, only...well, less permanent and less exclusive.
Simeon lives in Strymon, close to the Greek peninsula. He's bordering the Byzantine Empire there, but there hasn't been any sign of trouble about that for decades."
"I guess his dad was feeling jokey when he handed out duchies. Simeon of Strymon? Classic."
"Might well be. Simeon was only ten when he got named Duke, could well have been a very elaborate dad joke. Though you'd better keep silent, you might one day become Khagan Zachariah of Khazaria." Both of them snickered.
Days later, the announcement was made that Yeldem Ashina would leave Theodosia and marry the Duke of Strymon and Prince of Bulgaria Simeon Borisov Balgarsko.
Autumn, 874 AD
The spies in Baghdad continued to send encrypted messages in the coming months. Khanum Asli had upped the ante again after the birth of her first child to Zachariah, working on analyzing the Arabian progress tiredlessly – and she was not soon going to stop proving her worth. When she visited Theodosia in October, as she now did more frequently to better keep track of the developments at home, she had an announcement. This time Zachariah did not put her in doubt.
Instead, in the course of the following week he started to deeply contemplate whether it was maybe time for something new in his life, a new direction. He had three children now, with a fourth on the way. The bloodline was growing to be more stable than it had been for decades, and if it would continue that way his yurt would soon get crowded. It was time to make sure they actually had something to inherit.
Zachariah remembered his chancellor's words from his very first council meeting as Khan – going alone would be a quick way to lose everything. Now that he had a family to show for, he needed people to trust.
When he presented Ezra with his new approach to things, the chancellor was unsurprisingly approving and advised him that a near infallible way to earn the trust and respect of people was offering them his hospitality and thus get to spend time with them. Appearing generous and open-minded would also help his general reputation. "At least,my Khan, if the remark is allowed, over snooping around and slandering people behind their backs."
Zachariah pretended he hadn't got the less than subtle criticism. He knew he needed Ezra's help. Diplomacy, the art of wording things so that people didn't get upset all the time, had never been the focus of his interest and most people had no business telling him how to treat them anyway. He was the Khan, after all. In the end, Ezra's argument carried weight that the people whose help he could use sooner or later could be Khans too.
In the two months since, Zachariah had undertaken a crash course in etiquette and rhetorics and had his court make preparations to be able to host a guest of even the most noble blood with all due amenities. He hadn't expected small tweaks to his manners to have a profound impact on people's reactions to his person. It turned out they did, and Zachariah found himself treated quite differently – less condescending by his councillors and the other Khans, more dignified by the lowborn.
Or maybe that was just the effect of him now being Khan for quite a while without things going all too bad. The only hostile troops their lands had seen in years were Bulçan's raiders (who had the courtesy to leave quickly) and large Byzantine hosts on their way to defend Cherson. He had even expanded the Ashina territory to the edge of Europe, securing pastures for a steadily growing population and putting the Ashina on a lot of maps (though everyone knew how weak the remainder of the Magyars was).
December 2, 874 AD
Just this morning, the next good news had come in. The troops raiding in Cherson had profited from the stronghold that guarded the access to the rest of the land still being in disrepair from the last visit. They had passed without any difficulty, and now sacked and plundered the city of Neapol. The first caravan with plundered goods was already on the way. Word was of loot worth 30 gold pieces, or even more.
If their remote outposts are that rich, Zachariah thought, what must Constantinople look like? I have to see that with my own eyes one day.
That was when Yeldem appeared in the tent flap. "A word, Khan Zachariah?" she asked with pretended subservience, and both of them smiled broadly. Their relationship had solidified over the past years. Yeldem had recognized at some point that her brother, despite all his flaws and though he likely wasn't going to change anymore, had grown with his responsibilities. Zachariah, in turn, had always appreciated Yeldem's tireless efforts for the realm and her absolute loyalty, but nowadays he also knew not to take her occasional sassiness for scorn or belittlement. Yeldem's wits got the better of her sometimes, but she was never deliberately undermining his authority.
"It's probably going to take a while.
You know I've accompanied Ezra and his envoy to the court of King Boris of Bulgaria for our first official visit with our new neighbours, right?
It was a whole new world, brother. I can't even start describing how different to everything we know. And I am now more sure than ever that I'm longing for a change of surroundings."
Zachariah frowned. "What do you mean?"
Yeldem grinned. "Oh please, brother. What could I mean after all? Have you ever seen a Jewish nun?
The Bulgarian king happens to have a son who seemed to be all crazy about me. I can't say exactly the same about him, but he seems like a decent man – and he's a Duke and standing to inherit more land upon his fifty-year-old father's demise. Maybe he'll even be King one day – there's only one older brother above him in the line of succession. I've always wanted to marry a prince, Zachariah. I wanna have children, I wanna see more of the world than the plains of Ashina, as beautiful as they are."
She smiled, almost wistfully. "And I'm 28 now. The chances won't improve, considering most Christians aren't as fond of interreligious marriage."
Her brother was in shock. "Marry? You? But – but what about....You wanna leave Ashina? I mean....you're kind of...."
Yeldem was still smiling. "Kind of what?"
Zachariah collected himself. "You're my sister, and you carry the blood of Muhan. What about that ancient heritage? Your children would be of his dynasty, and no one would even remember their children's great ancestry. You're also a councillor and...who would I ask if I don't know what to think of something?"
"You're not an idiot, Zach. And you have plenty of advice if you just ask the right people. You know you can count on your men, and it's completely up to you who to appoint as the new general advisor. There's plenty of people in the court waiting for a chance to prove themselves.
As for the bloodline, I already mentioned that it complicates things that we're Jewish and no one out of Khazaria is. It's close to a miracle that Boris seems to be willing to even consider something like that. A matrilineal marriage would only be accepted by some local lowborns. I won't lie – I would have to contemplate that if you had no children for whatever reason. But that's safely out of question now. The succession is as stable as it gets and there's no longer a real need for me to have Ashina babies with some semi-talented Theodosian lout. One of the reasons that originally got me thinking."
Zachariah's resistance was waning. He had known this day would have to come eventually and he was never inclined to overrule Yeldem's wishes for her own fate.
"Is that Bulgarian guy talented?"
Yeldem replied light-heartedly. "Simeon is the name. He's a prince and a duke in a large, wealthy kingdom next to us. That's gotta count for something. And while he's certainly no genius – and has a rather hilarious little speech defect - he's said to have potential."
"Where is his Duchy after all? If you two marry, that means we're taking up diplomatic relations, right?"
"Kind of. The whole hierarchy balance is a little different – and much more complicated - in the European Kingdoms than in our Khaganates. What's important is that a marriage carries no obligations to you other than a mutual renouncement to declare war or raid territories - with Simeon, not his father. It's well possible to form a proper military alliance this way if both sides choose to – that's a version of the Blood Brotherships our people know, only...well, less permanent and less exclusive.
Simeon lives in Strymon, close to the Greek peninsula. He's bordering the Byzantine Empire there, but there hasn't been any sign of trouble about that for decades."
"I guess his dad was feeling jokey when he handed out duchies. Simeon of Strymon? Classic."
"Might well be. Simeon was only ten when he got named Duke, could well have been a very elaborate dad joke. Though you'd better keep silent, you might one day become Khagan Zachariah of Khazaria." Both of them snickered.
Days later, the announcement was made that Yeldem Ashina would leave Theodosia and marry the Duke of Strymon and Prince of Bulgaria Simeon Borisov Balgarsko.
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Chapter 20 - Death and Despair
Chapter 20 - Death and Despair
Winter, 874/75 AD
Everybody was hungover after the feast for the wedding of Yeldem that had lasted for three days. Although the actual celebrations were of course held in Strymon, where the new ducal couple would rule from now on, Zachariah wanted to send a sign of a prospering and worldly realm to his people, with great success. The clean-up was progressing fast, coordinated by the newly appointed court advisor Tähtani and executed by some jaunty soldiers who had tried to molest the serving maids and who Marshal General Khatir happily commanded for duty the next morning.
Tähtani was wife to the court steward Kundaç and well known to the Khan. She was knowledgeable, reliable and pragmatic, and Zachariah needed someone like that. Kundaç himself would not exactly be thrilled, but that was expected. The marriage between the both had been arranged in Zachariah's eager early days as Khan, and though they both considered it suitable and there were no rumours about infidelity of either side, they didn't personally like each other too much and differed on a lot of issues, so no solid front of the two was to be expected.
It was only slow that the daily life resumed in Theodosia, but there was a rare sense of unity in courtier and peasant alike that this had been the greatest feast they had ever seen.
Only Zachariah didn't feel well. It had begun as a slight itch. Soon it would no longer stop from scratching. Then the spot turned to a bright red. Then it began to spread over his body. He couldn't concentrate on anything and slept little, which only added to the frustration. His court physician Azariah was a diligent scholar and his ointment against the rash had actually helped a little.
Not as helpful was when he mentioned smallpox being remotely within the realm of possibilities.
Zachariah, to put it shortly, freaked out in panic and promptly secluded himself from everyone in a small yurt outside of town for fear of spreading the disease to his children and extinguishing the bloodline that had seemed to be doing so well mere days ago. Although he could communicate with his advisors (and everyone was used to the daily aspects of rulership delegated to other people), a proper council meeting or the like was out of question in this state. With Yeldem just having gone to Bulgaria, there also was no one who would convince him this was maybe not the smartest of ideas, and Zachariah held out in his makeshift exile despite Azariah regularly trying to tell him that smallpox would most likely have already killed him in those circumstances.
The sudden isolation gave Zachariah a lot of time to fill, and now that he was a proud father it would probably be good to finally properly learn the tale of his clan and its legendary founder whose name his firstborn son now bore. Some day the lads would ask. And should he live to see that day, he wanted to have something great to tell them.
Soon enough, Zachariah found himself intrigued by this great man of the past (although he wasn't sure if all stories could actually be taken by the word). He had essentially fought himself and his people to freedom by being stalwart in his ways, true to his goals and more ruthless than his ruthless oppressor. One day Muhan had 100 Rouran men executed on one day, each one by a different method. Zachariah had never been able to think of so many ways to spill blood. And he realized it would eventually be the time to show strength. If he wanted to be true to his Ashina blood, he couldn't hide forever.
This was deeply inspiring.
Three weeks into his unilateral seclusion, Zachariah was rugged and smelly, but very much alive and showing no signs of fever. Now the sores started to form patterns and ooze. As unpleasant as it was, this finally convinced Zachariah that smallpox were not what was ailing him. When Azariah looked at him, he thought he should have had it in mind from the beginning.
Zachariah was appalled, but still relieved he was at least not going to die soon. Then he thought of having to explain this to Asli and Virág and wasn't so sure anymore if dying would have been the worse option after all. Nonetheless, Zachariah took up court again the same day (after some prolonged washing and grooming). With smallpox finally out of question, he even got response from Khan Yavdi who would join the feast he called so long ago he hadn't even remembered. It was unsettling how fast the news about his health spread through the realm (and Zachariah knew very well what people would talk about him now), but at least in this case it didn't hurt.
Zachariah tought of his chancellors' words about respect, loyalty and trust and decided to personally tell the Khan on the next occasion how honored he was to have him as a guest. Also, he would have a chance to explain why he had been unattainable for so long.
When they met shortly thereafter, it turned out the "making friends" part would have to wait. Nobody knew exactly how it transpired, but somehow Yavdi took something wrong during Zachariah's lengthy descriptions of how much he enjoyed his solitary existence and replied something about cowardice, weakness and the like. Moments later, the two men were yelling profanities at each other and Zachariah was lucky that three guards held the steaming Yavdi back with difficulty. A fourth one swiftly accompanied Zachariah to an exit. Before their departure, Yavdi's chancellor apologized deeply and asserted they would receive an answer soon. Zachariah didn't know whether to laugh. He was positive not to see Yavdi on friendly ground anytime soon.
March 15, 875 AD
Zachariah was sitting at home and complaining to his physician Azariah about how every single thing went wrong since Yeldem was gone. First his sickness and the wrong diagnosis (for which Azariah had to apologize at least twice an hour, lest he wanted to be threatened with execution methods he had never even heard of in his life) and now the troubles with his impertinent fellow Khan who he had only wanted to befriend after all. Maybe there was a curse upon Ashina blood leaving its original turf, and he was haunted from now on?
The physician quietly listened and nodded while he proceeded to smear his secret and supposedly medicative mixture on Zachariah's blisters. They had held several of these "sessions" over the past few days and Zachariah had gotten used to the stench.
He also recognized that the treatment was actually making him feel better. The unbearable itch it had all started with soon disappeared almost completely, and somehow he slept better and felt more up to the eventful life of a Khan than before he had gone sick. Azariah was worth his money after all.
Zachariah had even wanted to convince his physician to try pre-emptively employing this measure and see if it would make his advisors perform better, but Azariah stated that what heals the sick would actually weaken the healthy and cited some medical expert from Egypt that Zachariah had never heard of.
"Hmh, if you say so. Are we done for today? I'm having an important diplomatic dinner and I'd like the balm to at least have dried properly until then."
"That's not going to be a problem, majesty. In ten minutes..."
Then things happened in quick succession. Without announcing himself, a guard stormed into the yurt completely out of his breath and could merely bring forth "....news from Odessa....there's been an attack....Khatir needs to see you" before he collapsed.
"An attack? In Odessa? But...who?", Zachariah uttered.
"Basileios." it sounded from below.
Zachariah looked at Azariah in shock, who made his best impression of being the wrong one to turn to.
The Byzantine emperor again. We could have thought of this.
And then it dawned to him he hadn't thought about his armies since he had left Theodosia in a hurry for a small hut in the middle of nowhere.
What are those troops even doing in Odessa? And why aren't they able to move faster than that behemoth of an army? What about the commanders?
Half-naked and coated by Azariah's fabled manure-herb mixture, Zachariah burst out of his private tent and toward the central yurt where he hoped to find Marshal Khatir. His supreme commander already waited for him with a grieved face.
"My Khan, I have to..." and Khatir confusedy stopped talking upon the sight of the dung-smeared Zachariah, who gave him an unambiguous gaze.
"Er, I.....have to inform you that as we speak, the Ashina division in Odessa is on its retreat. The army of Basileios marched at night, so we wouldn't take notice of them until it was too late..."
He stopped again, this time to heavily swallow.
"It's estimated that 600 men haven't made it. And the remaning troops have the Byzantines closely at their heels. It's unnatural how fast these men are moving although the bulk of them is on foot. They will be here in about six weeks, with a huge hostile army in their trail. We can only hope they make it to safety before the horses are weary and the Byzantines catch up to them again."
"What the hell were they even doing in Odessa? I hear 500 of our men are still in Cherson. That's 2000 left, who were supposed to do what exactly?"
"My Khan, when the armies had concluded to raid Peresechen, our new border with Moldavia, they pulled back onto our own soil to prevent ambushes by the local armies."
"That did not turn out very successful."
"You see, the problem is...once the general orders for a host are given by the council, such as the plan to raid some lands, the military takes over the micro-management, so that it is conducted as close to the soldiers as possible. In this case....well, those general orders were missing. You were unattainable, and the council can't rule anything without you at least signing the final document. The troops simply didn't know where to go now that their orders were fulfilled, so they stayed put and awaited further notice."
"Are you trying to suggest this was my fault? Without a piece of paper signed, your fabled men are unable to get out of the way if the goddamn Byzantine army is headed towards them?!"
"That's not what I said, my Khan. What the men would have needed was the timely order to retreat from the Bulgarian border altogether. The Byzantines took this route last time Kherson was under siege, and it was apparent they would appear eventually. I already told you they made sure it was already too late when the men finally recognized what was coming."
"So it was not the particular order I mentioned they were missing, but another one. Well, that surely justifies getting slaughtered! Have the Byzantines beat you with their books until you thought of yourself as one of them? We're not the Imperial Administration where people can't fetch the quill they just dropped without approval of their superiors. We are a freaking STEPPE HORDE! You're commanding a band of warriors out for blood and glory and the honor of the Clan and such! Get out of my sight, Khatir. You're disappointing me. And see that the remaining troops make their way to safety."
Zachariah let out a deep, long sigh of desperation and buried his face in his hands. Deep inside, he knew he had screwed up and that this would be costly. Six hundred men! That was almost a quarter of his whole host and would take at least half a year to replace. His reputation would take a hit. Others would possibly try to profit from this weakness. And the Byzantines were on their way to the Ashina homelands again.
Winter, 874/75 AD
Everybody was hungover after the feast for the wedding of Yeldem that had lasted for three days. Although the actual celebrations were of course held in Strymon, where the new ducal couple would rule from now on, Zachariah wanted to send a sign of a prospering and worldly realm to his people, with great success. The clean-up was progressing fast, coordinated by the newly appointed court advisor Tähtani and executed by some jaunty soldiers who had tried to molest the serving maids and who Marshal General Khatir happily commanded for duty the next morning.
Tähtani was wife to the court steward Kundaç and well known to the Khan. She was knowledgeable, reliable and pragmatic, and Zachariah needed someone like that. Kundaç himself would not exactly be thrilled, but that was expected. The marriage between the both had been arranged in Zachariah's eager early days as Khan, and though they both considered it suitable and there were no rumours about infidelity of either side, they didn't personally like each other too much and differed on a lot of issues, so no solid front of the two was to be expected.
It was only slow that the daily life resumed in Theodosia, but there was a rare sense of unity in courtier and peasant alike that this had been the greatest feast they had ever seen.
Only Zachariah didn't feel well. It had begun as a slight itch. Soon it would no longer stop from scratching. Then the spot turned to a bright red. Then it began to spread over his body. He couldn't concentrate on anything and slept little, which only added to the frustration. His court physician Azariah was a diligent scholar and his ointment against the rash had actually helped a little.
Not as helpful was when he mentioned smallpox being remotely within the realm of possibilities.
Zachariah, to put it shortly, freaked out in panic and promptly secluded himself from everyone in a small yurt outside of town for fear of spreading the disease to his children and extinguishing the bloodline that had seemed to be doing so well mere days ago. Although he could communicate with his advisors (and everyone was used to the daily aspects of rulership delegated to other people), a proper council meeting or the like was out of question in this state. With Yeldem just having gone to Bulgaria, there also was no one who would convince him this was maybe not the smartest of ideas, and Zachariah held out in his makeshift exile despite Azariah regularly trying to tell him that smallpox would most likely have already killed him in those circumstances.
The sudden isolation gave Zachariah a lot of time to fill, and now that he was a proud father it would probably be good to finally properly learn the tale of his clan and its legendary founder whose name his firstborn son now bore. Some day the lads would ask. And should he live to see that day, he wanted to have something great to tell them.
Soon enough, Zachariah found himself intrigued by this great man of the past (although he wasn't sure if all stories could actually be taken by the word). He had essentially fought himself and his people to freedom by being stalwart in his ways, true to his goals and more ruthless than his ruthless oppressor. One day Muhan had 100 Rouran men executed on one day, each one by a different method. Zachariah had never been able to think of so many ways to spill blood. And he realized it would eventually be the time to show strength. If he wanted to be true to his Ashina blood, he couldn't hide forever.
This was deeply inspiring.
Three weeks into his unilateral seclusion, Zachariah was rugged and smelly, but very much alive and showing no signs of fever. Now the sores started to form patterns and ooze. As unpleasant as it was, this finally convinced Zachariah that smallpox were not what was ailing him. When Azariah looked at him, he thought he should have had it in mind from the beginning.
Zachariah was appalled, but still relieved he was at least not going to die soon. Then he thought of having to explain this to Asli and Virág and wasn't so sure anymore if dying would have been the worse option after all. Nonetheless, Zachariah took up court again the same day (after some prolonged washing and grooming). With smallpox finally out of question, he even got response from Khan Yavdi who would join the feast he called so long ago he hadn't even remembered. It was unsettling how fast the news about his health spread through the realm (and Zachariah knew very well what people would talk about him now), but at least in this case it didn't hurt.
Zachariah tought of his chancellors' words about respect, loyalty and trust and decided to personally tell the Khan on the next occasion how honored he was to have him as a guest. Also, he would have a chance to explain why he had been unattainable for so long.
When they met shortly thereafter, it turned out the "making friends" part would have to wait. Nobody knew exactly how it transpired, but somehow Yavdi took something wrong during Zachariah's lengthy descriptions of how much he enjoyed his solitary existence and replied something about cowardice, weakness and the like. Moments later, the two men were yelling profanities at each other and Zachariah was lucky that three guards held the steaming Yavdi back with difficulty. A fourth one swiftly accompanied Zachariah to an exit. Before their departure, Yavdi's chancellor apologized deeply and asserted they would receive an answer soon. Zachariah didn't know whether to laugh. He was positive not to see Yavdi on friendly ground anytime soon.
March 15, 875 AD
Zachariah was sitting at home and complaining to his physician Azariah about how every single thing went wrong since Yeldem was gone. First his sickness and the wrong diagnosis (for which Azariah had to apologize at least twice an hour, lest he wanted to be threatened with execution methods he had never even heard of in his life) and now the troubles with his impertinent fellow Khan who he had only wanted to befriend after all. Maybe there was a curse upon Ashina blood leaving its original turf, and he was haunted from now on?
The physician quietly listened and nodded while he proceeded to smear his secret and supposedly medicative mixture on Zachariah's blisters. They had held several of these "sessions" over the past few days and Zachariah had gotten used to the stench.
He also recognized that the treatment was actually making him feel better. The unbearable itch it had all started with soon disappeared almost completely, and somehow he slept better and felt more up to the eventful life of a Khan than before he had gone sick. Azariah was worth his money after all.
Zachariah had even wanted to convince his physician to try pre-emptively employing this measure and see if it would make his advisors perform better, but Azariah stated that what heals the sick would actually weaken the healthy and cited some medical expert from Egypt that Zachariah had never heard of.
"Hmh, if you say so. Are we done for today? I'm having an important diplomatic dinner and I'd like the balm to at least have dried properly until then."
"That's not going to be a problem, majesty. In ten minutes..."
Then things happened in quick succession. Without announcing himself, a guard stormed into the yurt completely out of his breath and could merely bring forth "....news from Odessa....there's been an attack....Khatir needs to see you" before he collapsed.
"An attack? In Odessa? But...who?", Zachariah uttered.
"Basileios." it sounded from below.
Zachariah looked at Azariah in shock, who made his best impression of being the wrong one to turn to.
The Byzantine emperor again. We could have thought of this.
And then it dawned to him he hadn't thought about his armies since he had left Theodosia in a hurry for a small hut in the middle of nowhere.
What are those troops even doing in Odessa? And why aren't they able to move faster than that behemoth of an army? What about the commanders?
Half-naked and coated by Azariah's fabled manure-herb mixture, Zachariah burst out of his private tent and toward the central yurt where he hoped to find Marshal Khatir. His supreme commander already waited for him with a grieved face.
"My Khan, I have to..." and Khatir confusedy stopped talking upon the sight of the dung-smeared Zachariah, who gave him an unambiguous gaze.
"Er, I.....have to inform you that as we speak, the Ashina division in Odessa is on its retreat. The army of Basileios marched at night, so we wouldn't take notice of them until it was too late..."
He stopped again, this time to heavily swallow.
"It's estimated that 600 men haven't made it. And the remaning troops have the Byzantines closely at their heels. It's unnatural how fast these men are moving although the bulk of them is on foot. They will be here in about six weeks, with a huge hostile army in their trail. We can only hope they make it to safety before the horses are weary and the Byzantines catch up to them again."
"What the hell were they even doing in Odessa? I hear 500 of our men are still in Cherson. That's 2000 left, who were supposed to do what exactly?"
"My Khan, when the armies had concluded to raid Peresechen, our new border with Moldavia, they pulled back onto our own soil to prevent ambushes by the local armies."
"That did not turn out very successful."
"You see, the problem is...once the general orders for a host are given by the council, such as the plan to raid some lands, the military takes over the micro-management, so that it is conducted as close to the soldiers as possible. In this case....well, those general orders were missing. You were unattainable, and the council can't rule anything without you at least signing the final document. The troops simply didn't know where to go now that their orders were fulfilled, so they stayed put and awaited further notice."
"Are you trying to suggest this was my fault? Without a piece of paper signed, your fabled men are unable to get out of the way if the goddamn Byzantine army is headed towards them?!"
"That's not what I said, my Khan. What the men would have needed was the timely order to retreat from the Bulgarian border altogether. The Byzantines took this route last time Kherson was under siege, and it was apparent they would appear eventually. I already told you they made sure it was already too late when the men finally recognized what was coming."
"So it was not the particular order I mentioned they were missing, but another one. Well, that surely justifies getting slaughtered! Have the Byzantines beat you with their books until you thought of yourself as one of them? We're not the Imperial Administration where people can't fetch the quill they just dropped without approval of their superiors. We are a freaking STEPPE HORDE! You're commanding a band of warriors out for blood and glory and the honor of the Clan and such! Get out of my sight, Khatir. You're disappointing me. And see that the remaining troops make their way to safety."
Zachariah let out a deep, long sigh of desperation and buried his face in his hands. Deep inside, he knew he had screwed up and that this would be costly. Six hundred men! That was almost a quarter of his whole host and would take at least half a year to replace. His reputation would take a hit. Others would possibly try to profit from this weakness. And the Byzantines were on their way to the Ashina homelands again.
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Sneaky blasted Romans - why doin't they just go away?
I do have to wonder exactly what his sister is up to. She has her mind on something.
I do have to wonder exactly what his sister is up to. She has her mind on something.
Just when things started to look bright...also thats not a great collection of traits Zacharia has, its a good thing he doesnt have many vassals.
She's grown ambitious over the years. I'll keep the Bulgarian royal family under closer watch.
Oh yes. The other Khazarian rulers mostly aren't looking much better - there are lots of Wroth/Cruel people around. Virtue is apparently no priority in these lands.
Chapter 21 - Keep Your Friends Close...
Chapter 21 - Keep Your Friends Close...
Spring, 875 AD
Zachariah's Great Pox were somewhat under control and in May Theodosia witnessed the birth of his third son, who Asli insisted to call Yabghu, after some ancestor of hers who had been Khan of a clan which today resided around the Caspian Sea.
Unfortunately for Zachariah, there were no more good news over the following weeks. The Ashina army eventually was unable to escape the Byzantines, who had pursued them relentlessly along the Black Sea, and lost another 630 men in a humiliating rearguard battle in the northern Crimea peninsula.
When the Byzantines decided the lesson was properly taught and marched into Cherson again, the Ashina army had been reduced from 2.500 to 900 men from the two encounters and the attrition of the hasty retreat in between. This was a desaster that would take the horde months, possibly years to fully recover from. The recent expansion of the troops had taken in a lot of fresh blood which was subsequently spilled in Odessa and Crimea.
This time, no one was in the mood to discuss who was responsible. The Ashina, from the Khan to the lowliest, mourned their numerous fallen.
July saw two guests in the Ashina lands, albeit under very different circumstances.
First an army from the north showed itself on the horizon. It was Bulçan's host, who probably sought his chance for some easy looting and revenge for his failed attempt two years earlier. What he hadn't anticipated was that the Ashina forces had called in the few available reserves already. When the Bulçir forces tried to cross the strait of Kerch and enter Crimea, they were intercepted by the still recovering, but well-prepared and eager Ashina host. Khatir and his troop managed to defend the strait and drive the Bulçir off once again. The honor of the Ashina horde was restored.
The second visitor was less unpleasant, although Zachariah hadn't been so sure about that before. It showed that Khan Yavdi of Jabdertim was a man of his word and had not taken their differences from the last time all too personally. Both men soon found out that they actually respected the way they were standing up to each other. Once the ice was broken, their bickerings turned into light-hearted crosstalk and the occasional getting at each other into silly horsing around among pals.
When they dined and debated about the state of their realms and the art of ruling a clan, Zachariah often thought about his twin boys. Muhan and Tarkhan were two years old by now, running after each other and dueling with sticks, constantly locking horns but full of love for each other. And he smiled at the thought that maybe there was something to learn from these little boys he was so proud of.
Or his ancestor after whom he had named the older boy. Sure Yavdi would be delighted to hear some of the impressive stories about how Muhan had punished his foes.
With Zachariah's family growing and expanding, his subsequent sickness, new lands in the west, Byzantines ravaging the horde and Bulçir stopping by to restore same horde's reputation, few people had been keeping their eyes on what was happening in the collapsing Könugardr. The last thing Zachariah had heard was that Manasseh's host had headed off east after their tremendous victory in Turov. Now they were supposedly back, only to witness Dyre's surrender to Drevliania and the majority of his lands splitting off as the independent entity Ruthenia under the de jure control of the Drevlianian High Chief.
Days later, Polotsk and its vassal Mstislavl pressed their demands. Only a reduced Duchy of Chernigov and two minor exclaves would remain in Dyre's hands. The spoils of Manasseh's subjugation campaign were fading rapidly, and Dyre was still not willing to surrender.
October 6, 875 AD
Bozçin and her gang were on discovery tour. They were probably the best detectives in the whole world – maybe except for Khanum Asli, which they all admired deeply. She wasn't in Theodosia often, but there were all kinds of stories about her adventures in Arabia, and the kids wished they could also be a Spymaster one day. Parsbit and her brother Alp, little Dilek, Busir and her - they were inseparable. Their parents were all somewhat important, that's why they didn't have to help them with the horses or the household but were free to their own devices – at least when school, which Bozçin's dad held three times a week so she and her friends wouldn't turn out stupid, was over. That much Bozçin knew, and she didn't care much about the details. She was only six after all.
They had once again dispersed to search for clues. When Parsbit, their commander (although everyone was still allowed to do as he wanted if he felt like it) made the sound of an owl, they would meet up again behind the hill right by the big tree. Then everyone would present what he had found out, and they'd decide together which lead to follow. Bozçin skulked through some yurts, in search of anything unsual.
And then she heard a whip crack, followed by a painful howl. Bozçin's blood froze in shock.
What is happening? And where?
She started running in the direction of the noise.
That's a dog. What is happening??? Oh no, I'm a detective! Whoever is there is not supposed to notice me. I have to be super careful.
Bozçin hid behind a yurt and progressed carefully. The whip cracked again, this time followed by a man screaming and cursing.
What is this man doing and why? What's with that dog? It can't be far from me anymore. Oh god, why is the poor doggy screaming like that?
Bozçin looked around the yurt she was now hiding behind. She would never admit it, but she was terribly scared.
Then she saw it. A familiar-looking man was standing in the yard she was gazing into, cornering a desolate-looking stray dog and hitting him with a short whip. Bozçin froze in shock and anger. Tears filled her eyes upon the terrible scene. This is unfair and gruesome and evil and.... Again, the whip came down on the dog that howled desperately while the man screamed that it deserved this and worse.
Suddenly she didn't feel scared at all anymore.
"HEY!!! STOP THAT!"
Bozçin jumped at the man without hesitating. Time for her favorite stick that she always spoke of as her 'morning star' to shine!
"Take THAT, you mean...."
The man wheeled around, but was too surprised for a proper reaction and Bozçin hit him right into the face, screaming from the top of her lungs.
He stumbled back two steps and now looked at Bozçin with hateful eyes. She fell silent upon a sudden realization.
It's the Khan. This terrible man is our Khan! I'm in SO MUCH trouble.
Khan Zachariah of Ashina raised his whip. Bozçin squeaked and tried to cover her face. The same moment, the Khan screamed and again spun around. Bozçin immediately made a bolt for it. When she looked behind her, she saw the Khan flailing around and trying to get the dog off his leg. She laughed and kept running. Now that would make a fine story for the detective gang!
He gets what he deserves. What an evil, disgusting man he is. Yes, I hope the dog mangles his face and we get a new Khan.
(Author's note: The rivalry will be one-sided until further notice. Zachariah hasn't remembered how exactly Bozçin looks in all the haste. Also, the dog wasn't literally rabid and the superficial bite healed off just fine.)
Spring, 875 AD
Zachariah's Great Pox were somewhat under control and in May Theodosia witnessed the birth of his third son, who Asli insisted to call Yabghu, after some ancestor of hers who had been Khan of a clan which today resided around the Caspian Sea.
Unfortunately for Zachariah, there were no more good news over the following weeks. The Ashina army eventually was unable to escape the Byzantines, who had pursued them relentlessly along the Black Sea, and lost another 630 men in a humiliating rearguard battle in the northern Crimea peninsula.
When the Byzantines decided the lesson was properly taught and marched into Cherson again, the Ashina army had been reduced from 2.500 to 900 men from the two encounters and the attrition of the hasty retreat in between. This was a desaster that would take the horde months, possibly years to fully recover from. The recent expansion of the troops had taken in a lot of fresh blood which was subsequently spilled in Odessa and Crimea.
This time, no one was in the mood to discuss who was responsible. The Ashina, from the Khan to the lowliest, mourned their numerous fallen.
July saw two guests in the Ashina lands, albeit under very different circumstances.
First an army from the north showed itself on the horizon. It was Bulçan's host, who probably sought his chance for some easy looting and revenge for his failed attempt two years earlier. What he hadn't anticipated was that the Ashina forces had called in the few available reserves already. When the Bulçir forces tried to cross the strait of Kerch and enter Crimea, they were intercepted by the still recovering, but well-prepared and eager Ashina host. Khatir and his troop managed to defend the strait and drive the Bulçir off once again. The honor of the Ashina horde was restored.
The second visitor was less unpleasant, although Zachariah hadn't been so sure about that before. It showed that Khan Yavdi of Jabdertim was a man of his word and had not taken their differences from the last time all too personally. Both men soon found out that they actually respected the way they were standing up to each other. Once the ice was broken, their bickerings turned into light-hearted crosstalk and the occasional getting at each other into silly horsing around among pals.
When they dined and debated about the state of their realms and the art of ruling a clan, Zachariah often thought about his twin boys. Muhan and Tarkhan were two years old by now, running after each other and dueling with sticks, constantly locking horns but full of love for each other. And he smiled at the thought that maybe there was something to learn from these little boys he was so proud of.
Or his ancestor after whom he had named the older boy. Sure Yavdi would be delighted to hear some of the impressive stories about how Muhan had punished his foes.
With Zachariah's family growing and expanding, his subsequent sickness, new lands in the west, Byzantines ravaging the horde and Bulçir stopping by to restore same horde's reputation, few people had been keeping their eyes on what was happening in the collapsing Könugardr. The last thing Zachariah had heard was that Manasseh's host had headed off east after their tremendous victory in Turov. Now they were supposedly back, only to witness Dyre's surrender to Drevliania and the majority of his lands splitting off as the independent entity Ruthenia under the de jure control of the Drevlianian High Chief.
Days later, Polotsk and its vassal Mstislavl pressed their demands. Only a reduced Duchy of Chernigov and two minor exclaves would remain in Dyre's hands. The spoils of Manasseh's subjugation campaign were fading rapidly, and Dyre was still not willing to surrender.
October 6, 875 AD
Bozçin and her gang were on discovery tour. They were probably the best detectives in the whole world – maybe except for Khanum Asli, which they all admired deeply. She wasn't in Theodosia often, but there were all kinds of stories about her adventures in Arabia, and the kids wished they could also be a Spymaster one day. Parsbit and her brother Alp, little Dilek, Busir and her - they were inseparable. Their parents were all somewhat important, that's why they didn't have to help them with the horses or the household but were free to their own devices – at least when school, which Bozçin's dad held three times a week so she and her friends wouldn't turn out stupid, was over. That much Bozçin knew, and she didn't care much about the details. She was only six after all.
They had once again dispersed to search for clues. When Parsbit, their commander (although everyone was still allowed to do as he wanted if he felt like it) made the sound of an owl, they would meet up again behind the hill right by the big tree. Then everyone would present what he had found out, and they'd decide together which lead to follow. Bozçin skulked through some yurts, in search of anything unsual.
And then she heard a whip crack, followed by a painful howl. Bozçin's blood froze in shock.
What is happening? And where?
She started running in the direction of the noise.
That's a dog. What is happening??? Oh no, I'm a detective! Whoever is there is not supposed to notice me. I have to be super careful.
Bozçin hid behind a yurt and progressed carefully. The whip cracked again, this time followed by a man screaming and cursing.
What is this man doing and why? What's with that dog? It can't be far from me anymore. Oh god, why is the poor doggy screaming like that?
Bozçin looked around the yurt she was now hiding behind. She would never admit it, but she was terribly scared.
Then she saw it. A familiar-looking man was standing in the yard she was gazing into, cornering a desolate-looking stray dog and hitting him with a short whip. Bozçin froze in shock and anger. Tears filled her eyes upon the terrible scene. This is unfair and gruesome and evil and.... Again, the whip came down on the dog that howled desperately while the man screamed that it deserved this and worse.
Suddenly she didn't feel scared at all anymore.
"HEY!!! STOP THAT!"
Bozçin jumped at the man without hesitating. Time for her favorite stick that she always spoke of as her 'morning star' to shine!
"Take THAT, you mean...."
The man wheeled around, but was too surprised for a proper reaction and Bozçin hit him right into the face, screaming from the top of her lungs.
He stumbled back two steps and now looked at Bozçin with hateful eyes. She fell silent upon a sudden realization.
It's the Khan. This terrible man is our Khan! I'm in SO MUCH trouble.
Khan Zachariah of Ashina raised his whip. Bozçin squeaked and tried to cover her face. The same moment, the Khan screamed and again spun around. Bozçin immediately made a bolt for it. When she looked behind her, she saw the Khan flailing around and trying to get the dog off his leg. She laughed and kept running. Now that would make a fine story for the detective gang!
He gets what he deserves. What an evil, disgusting man he is. Yes, I hope the dog mangles his face and we get a new Khan.
(Author's note: The rivalry will be one-sided until further notice. Zachariah hasn't remembered how exactly Bozçin looks in all the haste. Also, the dog wasn't literally rabid and the superficial bite healed off just fine.)
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Finally caught up.
Zachariah has seen some good times but lately it has been bad times. Now all that he has done maybe lost because of a rabid dog.
Zachariah has seen some good times but lately it has been bad times. Now all that he has done maybe lost because of a rabid dog.
Never seen that event before, it appears Zacharia has made himself a ''powerful'' new enemy. On a serious note losing all that manpower is not good, hopefully his neighbors do not take advantage of his weakness.
I am not entirely sure that even this newer version of Zachariah has enough energy to maintain a rivlary - I can quite imagine it being a one-sided affair