I'm not sure how long I'll continue this, but I will at least go as far as the end of this war.. so we got a few more things in store for us 
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Ah glad I found this (Zeno helped), I wanted to read the famous slow aar for a while now, as my own Pecheneg aar might in time end up as slow as this one .
Gonna read it all to see how a long tale can survive the test of time.
.Gonna read it all to see how a long tale can survive the test of time.
I've finally read it! The siege is on, now let's see if the city will fall before the Ottomans send an army Arn's way.
Chapter 12
Iohannes Areiopagos stood at the helm of the finest galley the Empire had produced. Sleek powerful and a dream to sail she cut through the waters like nothing else in the Imperial Navy. Below him the steady beat of the drum told him that the oarsmen were working in unison, a perfect crew of slaves and prisoners, the best crew in the navy.
He scanned the deck, everything was in place, and even the Gods favoured him at the moment with a gentle wind aiding his ship by filling his single sail. All around him on the gentle Aegean seas the entire Roman fleet was arrayed, beautiful crafted Galleys, interspersed with a few heavy sail driven ships of Italian design. Not the most modern, nor the most numerous, but surely the most valiant. At least to Iohannes that was in command of it.
They had sailed a fortnight before on favourable winds, orders to patrol the sea, avoiding battle and interdict any supplies to Macedonia. It had been a daunting task, made no less difficult with the conflicting order to also cover the Harbour of Constantinople to avoid a blockade.
He sighed, his fleet was not large enough to be split in two, and the Turks had plenty of ships, even if their quality and morale was lacking, but it didn’t take much skill to sail supplies, or block a harbour.
With the lack of results of the Byzantine army however, he had taken up patrolling the northern part of the Aegean, in the vain hope of both ambushing supplies and avoiding a larger Turkish force. The effort had been in vain. The Admiral screened his eyes with his hands, and looked across the azure sea, and gentle swells, just over the horizon he could glimpse a dark spot, a spot that had been steadily growing all morning. He had little doubt as to what it was, reports from local sailors made it clear, no other vessels had been seen in the area for weeks but his and the Turks.
He checked the sail and the oarsmen again, finding nothing to fault, he would have to stay the distance without tiring his men needlessly, they would all else being equal have to spend their oarsmen to catch up, and he on the other hand would need a better spot for battle than the open sea where he would be easy prey for their higher numbers.
Iohannes walked to the other end of the deck and scanned the sea ahead. West and north of his small fleet was the low grey line that indicated the land of the Roman province of Morea, and the fought over province of Macedonia, he moved fleet at an angle to the coast, aiming for the islands that would cover his flank.
As the day wore on he realised that the plot would likely fail. Even as he neared the coast the currents and winds worked to his disfavour or the Turks were truly wasting away their oarsmen. Whatever the reason, the small dot had grown to a lump, and then into several dark blots on the horizon, the closest easily identified as a sail. The Ottomans where gaining on him. Scanning the sea it was painfully clear that he would not be able to escape a confrontation, only delay it. Looking at the sun he estimated he would see nightfall before battle, but unless he could hide in the darkness, he would face the Turks along with the rising sun.
The night went without any events and as the morning dawned he spotted the Turks as expected on his outside, still far away, but between him and the open sea. He readied his men, and brought the fleet closer to the coast, trying to get as much protection from the shallow waters as possible, without giving too much away in distance and manoeuvre.
As the morning wore on the Turks got closer, and Iohannes was able to spot the composition of the fleet. It seemed the Turk was not merely here to catch him, whether it was by accident or design was left for others to decide, but the Turkish fleet held at least three large transports that he could see, large cumbersome vessels likely carrying supplies and soldiers for the Sultan’s campaigns.
The large vessels hung back in the formation, but their huge triangular sails made them easily identified.
The admiral scanned the sea once more, not finding any solution to his problems, when suddenly a lookout called his attention on a spot on the horizon. Far to his starboard site, low on the horizon, on the open sea, somewhere in the last point in the triangle between him and the Turks a small dot had appeared, shining brightly red in the morning sun.
Iohannes felt his heart leap, and quickly ordered his course to come back straight along the coast, not angling towards its relative safety, he needed time, and he needed the Turk to focus on him. At first the Ottomans still headed at their old course, but soon flags erupted on the enemy ships and their fleet came about in pursue of the Roman fleet.
Iohannes nodded, and ordered the cadence of the oarsmen reduced a fraction and then settled down on the deck for a long wait. As the sun reached noon they were able to hear the distant sounds of the Turkish drum, giving away the rhythm of their oarsmen, a speed several levels above the Roman. The Admiral smiled and finished his early noon meal, then called for his officers to attend.
He quickly outlined his plan, and within minutes signal flags went up all over the ships, relaying his intentions. Another long moment passed, then he nodded to the oarsman, and the galley began shifting right, to form the fleet into battle positions. Once everything was settled into a shallow crescent, he let the fleet carry on keeping their distance, but the Turks now gained on them every moment.
The Admiral stepped to the bow of his ship and watched the distance carefully, then let his hand fall. Instantly a red flag unfolded on the mast top. The entire fleet began turning, the two half of the crescent turning inwards until the passed each other on the middle and reformed the crescent this time with bows headed on the Turk, instead of running away.
The flawless manoeuvre took only moments, and the Turkish fleet now faced a battle ready Roman formation, while their ships were still in disarray after the long pursuit, the fastest in front, and the transports somewhat to the outside, not protected.
Iohannes grinned and nodded for the second command, and following his bidding all galleys short forward, closing the gap before the Turk could regroup. A lone light, scouting galley that had strayed too far in front of the formation desperately tried to turn and get under the protective reach of the main force, but was brutally rammed and capsized without even slowing the Romans noticeably.
Then they were in the fray, the Romans using their speed and formation, the Turks desperately trying to get their bigger numbers to bear. Just before the main forces hit each other, the Romans played their trump, from several of the larger galleys, huge bouts of fire spouted out covering a small number of Ottoman galleys and a large section of the water with burning Greek Fire. The weapon effectively separated parts of the enemy fleet from the Romans.
A single Transport was unable to turn in time, and with out oars to break its speed, it glided slowly into the fire, and out on the other side, sails ablaze. The screams of terror rang out over the general battle din, as the Roman fleet turned as one, and attacked the landward flank of the Ottomans, using the flaming sea to protect themselves and keep the Turks from swarming them.
Soon the waters around the landward side of the battle were chaos. The Roman Galleys managed to get one more spurt of Greek Fire of before the battle closed scorching another enemy. With close combat and tight manoeuvring to ram each other the fire became a liability.
Iohannes allowed his force to be pushed backwards, buying time without causing unbearable losses was his main priority. Slowly the Turks began to encircle and press his formation together destroying the mutual support and room to move.
The admiral desperately walked the planks of his command galley, along with two others he had held it back for a last ditch effort, but it seemed a loosing proposition. He glanced at the mast, but the lookout shook his head.
He sighed and readied himself for the last effort. Raising his short sword so it glinted in the sun he looked left and right for the other two Captains to see then waited for the right moment. With a swift move the sword cleaved the air and all three galleys shot forward, gaining speed, running at a selection of Galleys about to close the circle on the Romans.
With a crash the Galley smashed into the side of the Ottomans, sounds of broken wood and screams from hurting oarsmen rose from both vessels. Iohannes pointed with his sword to the men on the deck, and a small catapult launched and the enemy vessel, then he gestured for the men below, and the boarding planks went down in the stern. Rushing to the deck he let the men across.
The fight was short and brutal, the Roman soldiers far more experienced than the ramble sent to fight for the Ottomans. In a swift action the enemy vessel was torched, but already the next one approached, along with two more right behind. Only the weariness of the oarsmen had kept the Turk from coordinating the attack.
Now with the Romans desperately fighting for their lives the Turks finally managed to bring their ship into the fight and the Romans simply got pushed together and killed. So far they only lost a single galley, but it would not be long before the defence broke.
Iohannes looked up at a frantic shout and saw the lookout waving and pointing, skimming through the chaos he thought he saw a red flash. Praising the Lord he then turned on the spot and shouted for his men for one large effort. Word spread from ship to ship the Romans began breaking out.
At first there was no reaction for the Turks, but then suddenly a commotion broke out on the opposing ships, and first one then other vessels began to try and break contact. The admiral barred his teeth in a feral grin, and ordered his ships to maintain contact and keep the Turks pinned.
Then first one then another ship broke through the formation, huge well maintained war galleys, all sporting the Venetian Flag, the Ally had arrived, and the Turk caught between the Romans in their midst and the rested Venetians on their outside.
The battle was won.
Iohannes Areiopagos stood at the helm of the finest galley the Empire had produced. Sleek powerful and a dream to sail she cut through the waters like nothing else in the Imperial Navy. Below him the steady beat of the drum told him that the oarsmen were working in unison, a perfect crew of slaves and prisoners, the best crew in the navy.
He scanned the deck, everything was in place, and even the Gods favoured him at the moment with a gentle wind aiding his ship by filling his single sail. All around him on the gentle Aegean seas the entire Roman fleet was arrayed, beautiful crafted Galleys, interspersed with a few heavy sail driven ships of Italian design. Not the most modern, nor the most numerous, but surely the most valiant. At least to Iohannes that was in command of it.
They had sailed a fortnight before on favourable winds, orders to patrol the sea, avoiding battle and interdict any supplies to Macedonia. It had been a daunting task, made no less difficult with the conflicting order to also cover the Harbour of Constantinople to avoid a blockade.
He sighed, his fleet was not large enough to be split in two, and the Turks had plenty of ships, even if their quality and morale was lacking, but it didn’t take much skill to sail supplies, or block a harbour.
With the lack of results of the Byzantine army however, he had taken up patrolling the northern part of the Aegean, in the vain hope of both ambushing supplies and avoiding a larger Turkish force. The effort had been in vain. The Admiral screened his eyes with his hands, and looked across the azure sea, and gentle swells, just over the horizon he could glimpse a dark spot, a spot that had been steadily growing all morning. He had little doubt as to what it was, reports from local sailors made it clear, no other vessels had been seen in the area for weeks but his and the Turks.
He checked the sail and the oarsmen again, finding nothing to fault, he would have to stay the distance without tiring his men needlessly, they would all else being equal have to spend their oarsmen to catch up, and he on the other hand would need a better spot for battle than the open sea where he would be easy prey for their higher numbers.
Iohannes walked to the other end of the deck and scanned the sea ahead. West and north of his small fleet was the low grey line that indicated the land of the Roman province of Morea, and the fought over province of Macedonia, he moved fleet at an angle to the coast, aiming for the islands that would cover his flank.
As the day wore on he realised that the plot would likely fail. Even as he neared the coast the currents and winds worked to his disfavour or the Turks were truly wasting away their oarsmen. Whatever the reason, the small dot had grown to a lump, and then into several dark blots on the horizon, the closest easily identified as a sail. The Ottomans where gaining on him. Scanning the sea it was painfully clear that he would not be able to escape a confrontation, only delay it. Looking at the sun he estimated he would see nightfall before battle, but unless he could hide in the darkness, he would face the Turks along with the rising sun.
The night went without any events and as the morning dawned he spotted the Turks as expected on his outside, still far away, but between him and the open sea. He readied his men, and brought the fleet closer to the coast, trying to get as much protection from the shallow waters as possible, without giving too much away in distance and manoeuvre.
As the morning wore on the Turks got closer, and Iohannes was able to spot the composition of the fleet. It seemed the Turk was not merely here to catch him, whether it was by accident or design was left for others to decide, but the Turkish fleet held at least three large transports that he could see, large cumbersome vessels likely carrying supplies and soldiers for the Sultan’s campaigns.
The large vessels hung back in the formation, but their huge triangular sails made them easily identified.
The admiral scanned the sea once more, not finding any solution to his problems, when suddenly a lookout called his attention on a spot on the horizon. Far to his starboard site, low on the horizon, on the open sea, somewhere in the last point in the triangle between him and the Turks a small dot had appeared, shining brightly red in the morning sun.
Iohannes felt his heart leap, and quickly ordered his course to come back straight along the coast, not angling towards its relative safety, he needed time, and he needed the Turk to focus on him. At first the Ottomans still headed at their old course, but soon flags erupted on the enemy ships and their fleet came about in pursue of the Roman fleet.
Iohannes nodded, and ordered the cadence of the oarsmen reduced a fraction and then settled down on the deck for a long wait. As the sun reached noon they were able to hear the distant sounds of the Turkish drum, giving away the rhythm of their oarsmen, a speed several levels above the Roman. The Admiral smiled and finished his early noon meal, then called for his officers to attend.
He quickly outlined his plan, and within minutes signal flags went up all over the ships, relaying his intentions. Another long moment passed, then he nodded to the oarsman, and the galley began shifting right, to form the fleet into battle positions. Once everything was settled into a shallow crescent, he let the fleet carry on keeping their distance, but the Turks now gained on them every moment.
The Admiral stepped to the bow of his ship and watched the distance carefully, then let his hand fall. Instantly a red flag unfolded on the mast top. The entire fleet began turning, the two half of the crescent turning inwards until the passed each other on the middle and reformed the crescent this time with bows headed on the Turk, instead of running away.
The flawless manoeuvre took only moments, and the Turkish fleet now faced a battle ready Roman formation, while their ships were still in disarray after the long pursuit, the fastest in front, and the transports somewhat to the outside, not protected.
Iohannes grinned and nodded for the second command, and following his bidding all galleys short forward, closing the gap before the Turk could regroup. A lone light, scouting galley that had strayed too far in front of the formation desperately tried to turn and get under the protective reach of the main force, but was brutally rammed and capsized without even slowing the Romans noticeably.
Then they were in the fray, the Romans using their speed and formation, the Turks desperately trying to get their bigger numbers to bear. Just before the main forces hit each other, the Romans played their trump, from several of the larger galleys, huge bouts of fire spouted out covering a small number of Ottoman galleys and a large section of the water with burning Greek Fire. The weapon effectively separated parts of the enemy fleet from the Romans.
A single Transport was unable to turn in time, and with out oars to break its speed, it glided slowly into the fire, and out on the other side, sails ablaze. The screams of terror rang out over the general battle din, as the Roman fleet turned as one, and attacked the landward flank of the Ottomans, using the flaming sea to protect themselves and keep the Turks from swarming them.
Soon the waters around the landward side of the battle were chaos. The Roman Galleys managed to get one more spurt of Greek Fire of before the battle closed scorching another enemy. With close combat and tight manoeuvring to ram each other the fire became a liability.
Iohannes allowed his force to be pushed backwards, buying time without causing unbearable losses was his main priority. Slowly the Turks began to encircle and press his formation together destroying the mutual support and room to move.
The admiral desperately walked the planks of his command galley, along with two others he had held it back for a last ditch effort, but it seemed a loosing proposition. He glanced at the mast, but the lookout shook his head.
He sighed and readied himself for the last effort. Raising his short sword so it glinted in the sun he looked left and right for the other two Captains to see then waited for the right moment. With a swift move the sword cleaved the air and all three galleys shot forward, gaining speed, running at a selection of Galleys about to close the circle on the Romans.
With a crash the Galley smashed into the side of the Ottomans, sounds of broken wood and screams from hurting oarsmen rose from both vessels. Iohannes pointed with his sword to the men on the deck, and a small catapult launched and the enemy vessel, then he gestured for the men below, and the boarding planks went down in the stern. Rushing to the deck he let the men across.
The fight was short and brutal, the Roman soldiers far more experienced than the ramble sent to fight for the Ottomans. In a swift action the enemy vessel was torched, but already the next one approached, along with two more right behind. Only the weariness of the oarsmen had kept the Turk from coordinating the attack.
Now with the Romans desperately fighting for their lives the Turks finally managed to bring their ship into the fight and the Romans simply got pushed together and killed. So far they only lost a single galley, but it would not be long before the defence broke.
Iohannes looked up at a frantic shout and saw the lookout waving and pointing, skimming through the chaos he thought he saw a red flash. Praising the Lord he then turned on the spot and shouted for his men for one large effort. Word spread from ship to ship the Romans began breaking out.
At first there was no reaction for the Turks, but then suddenly a commotion broke out on the opposing ships, and first one then other vessels began to try and break contact. The admiral barred his teeth in a feral grin, and ordered his ships to maintain contact and keep the Turks pinned.
Then first one then another ship broke through the formation, huge well maintained war galleys, all sporting the Venetian Flag, the Ally had arrived, and the Turk caught between the Romans in their midst and the rested Venetians on their outside.
The battle was won.
Thanks gents.. and as a reward for staying with it, I got a nother installation up
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You know if you keep this up you may set the record for the longest running AAR. I like the way you handed the sea-battle. Did you model it on a particular sea-battle or just make it up? Maybe I should call myself the "slow reader" since it’s taken me this long to catch up.
Joe
I like the way you handed the sea-battle. Did you model it on a particular sea-battle or just make it up? Maybe I should call myself the "slow reader" since it’s taken me this long to catch up. Joe
Thansk Joe
No this is made up, but strangely enough it is very close to what happened in game, i was about to block Macedonia, when the Turk arrived, they quickly lost one galley and a transport, but then my morale dropped and I alsmost began loosing ships when the Venetians arrived with an admiral, from then on the Turk held no chance on the water
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No this is made up, but strangely enough it is very close to what happened in game, i was about to block Macedonia, when the Turk arrived, they quickly lost one galley and a transport, but then my morale dropped and I alsmost began loosing ships when the Venetians arrived with an admiral, from then on the Turk held no chance on the water
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I am reading my way through your aar, and I become increasingly amazed at the detail you put in the story. Hopefully I will get to reading the last installment in a few days.
I can't remember the last time I read a description of naval combat in EU2. Very well done, it was a pleasure to read, it flowed very well. And the outcome was, of course, just what I was hoping for.
Shaytana, Stu thanks..
I like naval combat.. I've done a few, here, in the FC, and more importantly in Directors last History park, and that installment I copied into the blood and honour combat AAR in the main forum
Unfortunately like all swedish PE games there is very little emphasis on navies thus very few instances where you get to write about them
The Swedes seems to believe the Land wars are what made a difference in European History and that navies are off little or no importance
It seems right for Sweden, but a tad narrowminded IMHO
V
thanks..I like naval combat.. I've done a few, here, in the FC, and more importantly in Directors last History park, and that installment I copied into the blood and honour combat AAR in the main forum
Unfortunately like all swedish PE games there is very little emphasis on navies
thus very few instances where you get to write about them The Swedes seems to believe the Land wars are what made a difference in European History and that navies are off little or no importance
It seems right for Sweden, but a tad narrowminded IMHO
V
Finally caught up, but can only echo what the others said - well written sea battle, very gripping
I can only echo what others have said, that I liked the naval battle scene.
It's also good since that is exactly what happened.
It's also good since that is exactly what happened.
I just finished reading it all... awesome from the initial politics to the later carnage packed madness.
Also, I was in doubt about posting some graphic "erotic-horror" _stuff_ in my aar, but now that I see a bit of eroticism has been done before(and the world did not collapse into madness), I think I will do it too
Now that I finished reading this...I shudder to think how long it will be till the next update, I'm addicted you know...
Also, I was in doubt about posting some graphic "erotic-horror" _stuff_ in my aar, but now that I see a bit of eroticism has been done before(and the world did not collapse into madness), I think I will do it too
Now that I finished reading this...I shudder to think how long it will be till the next update, I'm addicted you know...
Chapter 13, part I
Konstantinos finally strode through the broken gate and entered the capital of Macedonia. Finally the city had fallen, and with the remainder of the garrison in chains, and the army of the Sultan long gone he could at last in good conscience claim the entire province for his Emperor.
He had declared upon the fall of the gate that he would tolerate no pillaging in the Greek and other Christian quarters, and no rape or killing at all, and had placed his personal regiment as guard to oversee that his commands were obeyed. As his tired men took to the taverns and the Islamic quarters, he himself retired with his senior staff to the palace of the former governor of the city, a splendid if small Arabic inspired building upon a small hill, set in a lush garden.
His years abroad had taught him to take advantage of a situation when it presented itself, and the Governor’s house came with its own bath house, something he had not fully been able to enjoy since he left the city in disgrace all those years ago. Going through the garden towards the small building hiding in the lush green foliage he fervently hoped the bathhouses of the palace and his old house was still maintained.
He slipped in to the small bath house and was greeted by the hot, damp and scented smell of the large sunk tub further inside the house. He dismissed the servants waiting for him in the outer rooms, certain that he could enjoy the bath without their services. He undressed slowly slipping into a simply short tunic and light sandals before entering the next room.
The heat and moist was more intense in there, and the room half hidden in the vapour and low light coming from the openings in the roof. Konstantinos slipped the sandals off and padded on bare feet towards the low bench he knew would be near the large tub. He was just about to undress when he felt more than saw movement behind him. He pulled his knife and spun around, the years in Italy preparing him for the worst. Only to be rewarded with a young girl moving out of the mist.
She bowed her head submissively and spoke without raising her eyes to his, “My Master bid me to join you, to make sure you had all you needed for your bath.”
He lowered his knife nodding slowly, unconvinced, but before he could reply the young woman loosened the brooch holding her outer Tunic and cape together, letting it fall to her knees. Only dressed in her thin short under tunic she businesslike proceeded to wind her hair up upon the top of her head, tying it there with a ribbon. She then walked by him without another glance in his direction on her way to the small pool.
He stood for a moment mouth agape, knife and suspicions forgotten, her beauty and composed grace leaving him speechless. Shaking his head he proceeded to undress, showing the knife and its sheath into his tunic, he nodded to him self; the Governor had been completely honourable when turning over the city and had been confined to a secluded wing of the mansion along with his extended household of family, servants and mistresses. All under guard though and he briefly wondered how she had managed to slip out without being caught. Maybe she had hidden in here from the beginning?
Turning towards her again he saw she was patiently standing by the edge of the small pool waiting for him, her demeanour outwardly that of the perfect young female slave waiting to help her master bathe. However something about her seemed wrong and he could not quite shake the feeling. As he neared the small steps into the pool he stopped briefly and let his eyes survey her lithe young body, almost fully disclosed under the small and flimsy gauze of her inner tunic. Not a visible mark upon her body, nothing to indicate her status in the house hold, her skin perfect light olive, but with out the visible stigmas of a slave, not scars from whip rope or chain, no tattoos or burns, even in the most discreet of places belied if she was indeed a slave. He shrugged again, of course a trusted slave might give birth to a daughter and she again would not be disgraces by such markings if she did not misbehave.
He stepped forward and began descending into the hot waters, acutely aware of his nakedness in the presence of this young woman. He smiled wryly to himself, how odd he had never before been intimidated by the presence of a young woman, and certainly not by a mere slave. He closed his eyes as the water reached his waist, vaguely hearing her enter the water behind him.
He never knew what alerted him, the brief pause in her steps perhaps, but on instinct he spun around just in time to grab her wrists and stop her from using the small bejewelled dagger she had suddenly produced from God know where.
She gave a small squeal as he squeezed tighter and dropped the knife that instantly disappeared beneath the surface. Her struggle was very brief, then she stopped.
“I surrender to your mercy,” she whispered as she let her head drop.
He stood for a while, reluctant to release her, then finally he hissed between his clenched teeth. “Master eh? The Governor did not strike me as one to send an assassin after his honourable surrender, and a bad one at that, perhaps I should send him to the dungeons after all?” He felt her stiffen, but whether over the implied lack of professionalism of her work or the promise to hurt the Governor, which he had no intention of carrying out, was unclear.
She lifted her head in defiance, “I am no slave, he is my father.”
Surprised he released his grip. “Father? What father sends his daughters as assassins?”
“I’m the daughter of his favourite mistress, and he himself has freed me and my mother of the slavery.” Her eyes shone with pride, and he could not help a smile from crinkling his face. “Not a noble, but still a noble gesture young lady, to die for him.”
“I would not have died, had I not slipped.” Her anger was still very present in her face, but doubt had begin to seep in around the eyes, “you will not punish him for what I did? He had no knowledge.”
Konstantinos smiled and shook his head, releasing her wrists completely, “No, he did no wrong, and his surrender was as honourable as possible, and I spared the city as much as I could when he finally opened the gates.
A small tear trickled down her face “I think I understand my lord.” She let her hers fall to her sides and lifted her face, “you may do with me as you like, for atonement of my crime, attempted murder I believe is punishable by death and torture.”
Konstantinos grinned, but was careful not to let her see it, “I will pass judgement later, for now I will take my bath, I have done my Emperor’s duty for many a month and deserve my bath, I’d be honoured if you will at least help me relax.”
With a small thankful smile she nodded and turned to get sponge and scrub.
Sighing contently he allowed her to rub his tired shoulders. Finally the conquest of the province was complete. It also entailed the surrender of two young hearts, though neither was aware of that at the moment.
Konstantinos finally strode through the broken gate and entered the capital of Macedonia. Finally the city had fallen, and with the remainder of the garrison in chains, and the army of the Sultan long gone he could at last in good conscience claim the entire province for his Emperor.
He had declared upon the fall of the gate that he would tolerate no pillaging in the Greek and other Christian quarters, and no rape or killing at all, and had placed his personal regiment as guard to oversee that his commands were obeyed. As his tired men took to the taverns and the Islamic quarters, he himself retired with his senior staff to the palace of the former governor of the city, a splendid if small Arabic inspired building upon a small hill, set in a lush garden.
His years abroad had taught him to take advantage of a situation when it presented itself, and the Governor’s house came with its own bath house, something he had not fully been able to enjoy since he left the city in disgrace all those years ago. Going through the garden towards the small building hiding in the lush green foliage he fervently hoped the bathhouses of the palace and his old house was still maintained.
He slipped in to the small bath house and was greeted by the hot, damp and scented smell of the large sunk tub further inside the house. He dismissed the servants waiting for him in the outer rooms, certain that he could enjoy the bath without their services. He undressed slowly slipping into a simply short tunic and light sandals before entering the next room.
The heat and moist was more intense in there, and the room half hidden in the vapour and low light coming from the openings in the roof. Konstantinos slipped the sandals off and padded on bare feet towards the low bench he knew would be near the large tub. He was just about to undress when he felt more than saw movement behind him. He pulled his knife and spun around, the years in Italy preparing him for the worst. Only to be rewarded with a young girl moving out of the mist.
She bowed her head submissively and spoke without raising her eyes to his, “My Master bid me to join you, to make sure you had all you needed for your bath.”
He lowered his knife nodding slowly, unconvinced, but before he could reply the young woman loosened the brooch holding her outer Tunic and cape together, letting it fall to her knees. Only dressed in her thin short under tunic she businesslike proceeded to wind her hair up upon the top of her head, tying it there with a ribbon. She then walked by him without another glance in his direction on her way to the small pool.
He stood for a moment mouth agape, knife and suspicions forgotten, her beauty and composed grace leaving him speechless. Shaking his head he proceeded to undress, showing the knife and its sheath into his tunic, he nodded to him self; the Governor had been completely honourable when turning over the city and had been confined to a secluded wing of the mansion along with his extended household of family, servants and mistresses. All under guard though and he briefly wondered how she had managed to slip out without being caught. Maybe she had hidden in here from the beginning?
Turning towards her again he saw she was patiently standing by the edge of the small pool waiting for him, her demeanour outwardly that of the perfect young female slave waiting to help her master bathe. However something about her seemed wrong and he could not quite shake the feeling. As he neared the small steps into the pool he stopped briefly and let his eyes survey her lithe young body, almost fully disclosed under the small and flimsy gauze of her inner tunic. Not a visible mark upon her body, nothing to indicate her status in the house hold, her skin perfect light olive, but with out the visible stigmas of a slave, not scars from whip rope or chain, no tattoos or burns, even in the most discreet of places belied if she was indeed a slave. He shrugged again, of course a trusted slave might give birth to a daughter and she again would not be disgraces by such markings if she did not misbehave.
He stepped forward and began descending into the hot waters, acutely aware of his nakedness in the presence of this young woman. He smiled wryly to himself, how odd he had never before been intimidated by the presence of a young woman, and certainly not by a mere slave. He closed his eyes as the water reached his waist, vaguely hearing her enter the water behind him.
He never knew what alerted him, the brief pause in her steps perhaps, but on instinct he spun around just in time to grab her wrists and stop her from using the small bejewelled dagger she had suddenly produced from God know where.
She gave a small squeal as he squeezed tighter and dropped the knife that instantly disappeared beneath the surface. Her struggle was very brief, then she stopped.
“I surrender to your mercy,” she whispered as she let her head drop.
He stood for a while, reluctant to release her, then finally he hissed between his clenched teeth. “Master eh? The Governor did not strike me as one to send an assassin after his honourable surrender, and a bad one at that, perhaps I should send him to the dungeons after all?” He felt her stiffen, but whether over the implied lack of professionalism of her work or the promise to hurt the Governor, which he had no intention of carrying out, was unclear.
She lifted her head in defiance, “I am no slave, he is my father.”
Surprised he released his grip. “Father? What father sends his daughters as assassins?”
“I’m the daughter of his favourite mistress, and he himself has freed me and my mother of the slavery.” Her eyes shone with pride, and he could not help a smile from crinkling his face. “Not a noble, but still a noble gesture young lady, to die for him.”
“I would not have died, had I not slipped.” Her anger was still very present in her face, but doubt had begin to seep in around the eyes, “you will not punish him for what I did? He had no knowledge.”
Konstantinos smiled and shook his head, releasing her wrists completely, “No, he did no wrong, and his surrender was as honourable as possible, and I spared the city as much as I could when he finally opened the gates.
A small tear trickled down her face “I think I understand my lord.” She let her hers fall to her sides and lifted her face, “you may do with me as you like, for atonement of my crime, attempted murder I believe is punishable by death and torture.”
Konstantinos grinned, but was careful not to let her see it, “I will pass judgement later, for now I will take my bath, I have done my Emperor’s duty for many a month and deserve my bath, I’d be honoured if you will at least help me relax.”
With a small thankful smile she nodded and turned to get sponge and scrub.
Sighing contently he allowed her to rub his tired shoulders. Finally the conquest of the province was complete. It also entailed the surrender of two young hearts, though neither was aware of that at the moment.
Zeno and Shaytana, thank you very much
Sorry in the tardiness of both response and new chapters, I have been hitting a few stumbling blocks lately
V
Sorry in the tardiness of both response and new chapters, I have been hitting a few stumbling blocks lately
V
Chapter 13, part two
The army had broken up scarcely a month after the final surrender of the city and was now moving north and east along the old caravan route through the mountains on its way home.
First came the scouts, both mounted and on foot, moving out days before the army, and leaving camp before the break of dawn. They were followed by extensive cavalry patrols, and a few advanced infantry regiments, usually skirmishers.
Only then did the main army advance, with the marshal and his personal guard in front, flanked by a cavalry regiment and further guarded by a few infantry regiments. Finally came the rest of the army, row upon row of men and horses some orderly some not, mostly reflecting the current Empire, Greeks and nationalised citizens amongst each other.
In the rear lumbered the baggage train, oxen laden wagons with all things from food to tools of the engineers, and lumber for siege equipment. Finally as the dust began to settle, powdering the nearby trees and fields white, came the rearguard. A few regiments covering he rear, and a few cavalry regiments doing extensive double back patrols brought up the army.
Somewhere in the Marshall’s group was his personal retinue, servants, commander of his guard, officers, and a small group of people under guard. Somewhere along the way in the recently conquered city the young woman from the bath house had been offered as hostage of the city, as safeguard against future rebellions. Konstantinos had had his reservations when it was first offered, partly because he didn’t like the idea of hostages, and mostly because he had already replaced the governor and didn’t believe any hostage could prevent rebellion. But the former governor had insisted that if he was set free to live in the city, then his hostage would help guarantee his obedience, and that would in return help safeguard the mood of the Islamic population.
Konstantinos was still not convinced and was about to toss the whole petition out and return to plan the upcoming march of the army when the former governor had brought the hostages to be into the room. The young Marshall had taken one look into those defiant eyes and changed his mind instantaneously, though a voice in the back of his mind had wondered who had suggested that she should be the victim, and indeed who had suggested the whole idea from the start.
Thus the victorious Roman Marshall, head of the largest army the Empire could field had saddled him self with a reluctant, but beautiful victim, and had chosen to spend most evenings trying to convince said hostage of the advantages of the Roman Empire in general, and a life at the Marshall’s household in particular.
The army lumbered forward and day-by-day got closer to the City of Men’s Desire and the besieging army. His patrols had begun encounter the Sultan’s foraging parties, and he knew that by now the Ottomans would be fully aware of his presence, size and direction, but there was little to nothing he could do about it.
Finally the army descended from the last mountain pass and into the hills that surrounded the vast plain before the city. Konstantinos had prepared for this, and on both sides the army surged forward to ensure they would not be caught in the narrow opening of the last pass. Up ahead he could see the dim haze above the city and idly wondered how the siege fared, his last communication with the Garrison had been before he entered the mountains, and that had been weeks old already, having travelled with a Venetian galley from the city to Macedonia, and from there by horse to him.
*****
Svend glanced from the battlement, below lay yet another siege tower smouldering, adding to the debris by the foot of the outer wall. The day had started like so many in the last few weeks with another rush to his walls followed by lumbering beasts of towers and rams, trying desperately to gain the outer wall from his men.
It had been going on for days, every second or third day the bombardment would fade and the rush begin, he could only admire the effort, but kept wondering why they didn’t gather all those towers into a few more collected efforts instead of throwing them away piecemeal on the walls. It was however wearing down the defenders, and in the end that could prove fatal.
It had started a few months ago, when the Sultan seemingly left the field, or at least the tent and standards they presumed to be his were gone one morning. Then slowly for every small reinforcement that was reported to cross the river onto the field before the city it seemed invariably to signal another rush to the walls followed by the ill thought attack of the siege engines.
Svend sighed and accepted a water skin from a servant. They had managed to break every rush, but he was unsure for long they could keep doing it, the Turk seemed to have endless reinforcements, and the outer wall was cracking in several places. He sighed, there had been no news for months, all they had heard was that Bulgaria had fallen, and that Konstantinos had moved north to relieve the city after the final fall of Macedonia, but they had heard naught from either, and he was secretly fearing that Arn had met with one of the reinforcing armies at some point after leaving his siege. Several of the arriving reinforcements had been reported to have shown signs of recent battles, judging from the size of formations.
He turned to the field before him and the vast Ottoman camp, finally the Tekes were missing, Venetian galleys stopping for supplies had reported the Teke army to be on the move, and that a small expeditionary force had been dispatched to Altaya, but so far they had neither turned up at the siege, nor returned to oust the Venetians.
The Commander of the Garrison sighed and turned away, when an aide called him to the battlement.
“Sire, look.”
The General looked over the battlements squinting, “what do you see?”
“It looks like a great part of the army is drawing up, wait, it even looks like some of the archers are being moved out of the siege works, earlier they moved a number of slaves south west.”
Svend grunted, “Well it could be a ruse, tell all commanders to try and watch where they are heading, could be just another attack at another part of the wall.”
The army had broken up scarcely a month after the final surrender of the city and was now moving north and east along the old caravan route through the mountains on its way home.
First came the scouts, both mounted and on foot, moving out days before the army, and leaving camp before the break of dawn. They were followed by extensive cavalry patrols, and a few advanced infantry regiments, usually skirmishers.
Only then did the main army advance, with the marshal and his personal guard in front, flanked by a cavalry regiment and further guarded by a few infantry regiments. Finally came the rest of the army, row upon row of men and horses some orderly some not, mostly reflecting the current Empire, Greeks and nationalised citizens amongst each other.
In the rear lumbered the baggage train, oxen laden wagons with all things from food to tools of the engineers, and lumber for siege equipment. Finally as the dust began to settle, powdering the nearby trees and fields white, came the rearguard. A few regiments covering he rear, and a few cavalry regiments doing extensive double back patrols brought up the army.
Somewhere in the Marshall’s group was his personal retinue, servants, commander of his guard, officers, and a small group of people under guard. Somewhere along the way in the recently conquered city the young woman from the bath house had been offered as hostage of the city, as safeguard against future rebellions. Konstantinos had had his reservations when it was first offered, partly because he didn’t like the idea of hostages, and mostly because he had already replaced the governor and didn’t believe any hostage could prevent rebellion. But the former governor had insisted that if he was set free to live in the city, then his hostage would help guarantee his obedience, and that would in return help safeguard the mood of the Islamic population.
Konstantinos was still not convinced and was about to toss the whole petition out and return to plan the upcoming march of the army when the former governor had brought the hostages to be into the room. The young Marshall had taken one look into those defiant eyes and changed his mind instantaneously, though a voice in the back of his mind had wondered who had suggested that she should be the victim, and indeed who had suggested the whole idea from the start.
Thus the victorious Roman Marshall, head of the largest army the Empire could field had saddled him self with a reluctant, but beautiful victim, and had chosen to spend most evenings trying to convince said hostage of the advantages of the Roman Empire in general, and a life at the Marshall’s household in particular.
The army lumbered forward and day-by-day got closer to the City of Men’s Desire and the besieging army. His patrols had begun encounter the Sultan’s foraging parties, and he knew that by now the Ottomans would be fully aware of his presence, size and direction, but there was little to nothing he could do about it.
Finally the army descended from the last mountain pass and into the hills that surrounded the vast plain before the city. Konstantinos had prepared for this, and on both sides the army surged forward to ensure they would not be caught in the narrow opening of the last pass. Up ahead he could see the dim haze above the city and idly wondered how the siege fared, his last communication with the Garrison had been before he entered the mountains, and that had been weeks old already, having travelled with a Venetian galley from the city to Macedonia, and from there by horse to him.
*****
Svend glanced from the battlement, below lay yet another siege tower smouldering, adding to the debris by the foot of the outer wall. The day had started like so many in the last few weeks with another rush to his walls followed by lumbering beasts of towers and rams, trying desperately to gain the outer wall from his men.
It had been going on for days, every second or third day the bombardment would fade and the rush begin, he could only admire the effort, but kept wondering why they didn’t gather all those towers into a few more collected efforts instead of throwing them away piecemeal on the walls. It was however wearing down the defenders, and in the end that could prove fatal.
It had started a few months ago, when the Sultan seemingly left the field, or at least the tent and standards they presumed to be his were gone one morning. Then slowly for every small reinforcement that was reported to cross the river onto the field before the city it seemed invariably to signal another rush to the walls followed by the ill thought attack of the siege engines.
Svend sighed and accepted a water skin from a servant. They had managed to break every rush, but he was unsure for long they could keep doing it, the Turk seemed to have endless reinforcements, and the outer wall was cracking in several places. He sighed, there had been no news for months, all they had heard was that Bulgaria had fallen, and that Konstantinos had moved north to relieve the city after the final fall of Macedonia, but they had heard naught from either, and he was secretly fearing that Arn had met with one of the reinforcing armies at some point after leaving his siege. Several of the arriving reinforcements had been reported to have shown signs of recent battles, judging from the size of formations.
He turned to the field before him and the vast Ottoman camp, finally the Tekes were missing, Venetian galleys stopping for supplies had reported the Teke army to be on the move, and that a small expeditionary force had been dispatched to Altaya, but so far they had neither turned up at the siege, nor returned to oust the Venetians.
The Commander of the Garrison sighed and turned away, when an aide called him to the battlement.
“Sire, look.”
The General looked over the battlements squinting, “what do you see?”
“It looks like a great part of the army is drawing up, wait, it even looks like some of the archers are being moved out of the siege works, earlier they moved a number of slaves south west.”
Svend grunted, “Well it could be a ruse, tell all commanders to try and watch where they are heading, could be just another attack at another part of the wall.”
About time you posted again. A beautiful female captive? That could get interesting.
Joe
A beautiful female captive? That could get interesting. Joe
Storey said:About time you posted again.
Joe
I thought you were out cutting kindling wood?
I think you missed the last one where she was captured? I forebode pretty much what happens
V
True... I forgot the exact line, but something about two hearts surrendering? Pretty clear, that one.
This AAR is turning into the knife- or axwielding masked maniac of slasher movies: every time I think it must have died, but IT KEEPS COMING BACK!!!
's Good to see you pick this up again. Is the great battle with the Ottomans finally nearing?
This AAR is turning into the knife- or axwielding masked maniac of slasher movies: every time I think it must have died, but IT KEEPS COMING BACK!!!
's Good to see you pick this up again. Is the great battle with the Ottomans finally nearing?
Valdemar said:I thought you were out cutting kindling wood?
I think you missed the last one where she was captured? I forebode pretty much what happens
V
The tree is cut and stacked and I'm sore and tired.
And you're right I missed that post. I'm up to speed now and awaiting your next post. Joe