The Archer's Marines: The First Marines - Medieval fiction action story about Marines, naval warfare, and knights after King Richard's crusade in Syria, ... times (The Company of Archers Book 5) (14 page)

       “English?  Are there English here?” is the cry our men scream as they pour on to the galleys and rush down to slaves on their lower rowing decks.  I don’t go with them but I can hear their cries from where Harold has us nosed into the beach next to one of the Byzantine galleys.

@@@@@

       Less than twenty minutes later and it’s all over.  We’ve recaptured all but one of our galleys and taken twenty nine of theirs as prizes.  More importantly we’ve freed Randolph and a number of his men.  They’d been chained to the rowing benches of their own galleys.  Robert Monk, one of our galleys, and some of Randolph’s men are missing.

       It seems that prisoners and criminals taken by the Byzantines have only two fates – they either have their heads immediately chopped off or they are sent to be galley slaves.  We can only hope that Robert and the men are on the missing galley.

       Several times armed men come out of the city gate and start towards us where we’re milling around the galleys.  The first is a handful of men, probably gate guards, who come running out to see what all the commotion is about and why screaming and shouting people are running into the city from the beach and dock.

       Our men had fairly much followed their instructions and let the unarmed men running for the city walls escape.  The gate guards coming towards them carrying arms are another story – they don’t get very far before they all go down in a sudden hail of arrows from our nearest Marines. 

      
From where I’m standing on Harold’s deck it looks like all of our Marines on one of our galleys began launching at the same time and stopped at the same time; probably when their sergeant gave the word.

       About ten minutes a much larger group of armed men comes running out of the same city gate, perhaps thirty men in all.  They meet the same fate from an even greater storm of arrows although some are able to turn back in time to get inside the city before the gate is shut. 

       The ground in front of the gate is littered with dead and wounded men and faces are beginning to appear on the high city wall when something unexpected happens - several of our men lope up to the wall and begin nonchalantly picking up the arrows lying about and jerking them out of the men on the ground. 

       I watch as they both suddenly stop at the same time and run back.  A sergeant must have shouted an order. 
I wonder if he sent them; it suddenly makes me wonder if we’ve brought enough arrows?

       And look who’s here, by God.

       “Hello Randolph old friend; it’s good to see your ugly face.”

       “It’s good to see your ugly face too William, by God.  Thankee for coming for me and the lads.  Thankee indeed.  I knew you’d come; that’s what I’ve been telling the lads ever since they catched us.  Took us by surprise didn’t they?  The bastards.  It were the priest what done for us.”

       “Say that again. What priest?”

@@@@@

       Randolph tells his tale as we stand on the deck of Harold’s galley and watch our galleys and their prizes come off the beach. 

       “It’s true, I tell you.  It’s true.  They planned it all along, the priests and the new emperor.  Wanted their enemies to show themselves by preparing to run, didn’t they?  And they wanted our galleys and coins too, damn their eyes.  The bastard laughed when he told me, didn’t he?  Proud of himself, he was – and angry as a wet hen when you got away with their coins.”

       “Are you talking about the priest we boarded at Antioch who brought all the coins and custom to us here in Constantinople?”

       “Aye, that’s the one.”

       “Well then I’ve a big surprise for you.”

                                  Chapter Thirteen

       Our galleys scatter to their various assignments as soon as they finish with their part of the assault on the Byzantine navy.  Some head up the Bosphorus channel to stop ships from coming to Constantinople from the Black Sea and a couple of others head back to block the Dardanelles.  Unfortunately, none of those assigned to move into the river on the north side of the city are able to do so – the great chain blocks the way.

       Most of our galleys, those carrying the great mass of our Marines and pike men, row around the city wall until they come to where a little stream runs into the ocean.  That’s where we nose into the beach and begin to unload our fighting men and their supplies and auxiliaries.  We’re about three miles from the city’s outer wall.

@@@@@

       “Don’t forget to put a line of sentries on that stream; we don’t want any man or animal to pee or shite anywhere near the water we drink,” I remind Henry before I go back down to the lower rowing bench to get more information from Father Apostos. 

      
Thomas is keen about such things because the book he read at monastery said that’s what the Romans did.  I know he’ll ask and be angry if we don’t do it. It can’t hurt, can it?

      
Randolph and I have a chance to talk to Father Apostos while we’re rowing over to where our army will land.  He’s got quite funny ideas, probably because he’s a Greek.  At first he wouldn’t talk to us because he had somehow gotten it into his head that we wouldn’t hurt him because he’s a priest and doing so would cause us to burn in hell.  That all changes when I promptly cut off one of his fingers and tell him that next I’ll be cutting off his balls and then his dingle.  After he stops screaming he tells us everything. 

       “We thought you’d pay to get your men and galleys back, it wasn’t because you are Latins,” he sobs as I pat him on the back and nod my understanding.

     
Latins, of course, as I explain to Harold who comes down to see what all the noise and fuss is about, being what the Byzantines call everyone who looks to Rome for their religion.

      
What we learn is quite interesting.  Randolph is right – it was all a plot to get the deposed emperor’s supporters to identify themselves so they could be eliminated.

       Apparently the new emperor borrowed heavily from the church and from the Venetians so he could bribe the Byzantine military and other members of the royal family to abandon his brother, the former emperor, so he could become the emperor in his place.  It worked.

       The idea was that the church would be repaid with the money that traitors paid to escape and the Venetians by the sale or ownership of our galleys and the granting of more trade concessions.  That’s why they arranged for so many of our galleys to be hired. 

       It worked up to a point – they took the galleys and arrested the traitors as they came to the galleys to make their escape.  In effect, everything went off as planned and Alexios became emperor except we somehow got away with the coins needed to repay the church and the Venetians. 

       The Venetians knew our contract was the standard contract pledging that no man would be left behind and they thought we would honor it if we could.  That’s why getting the coins back as a ransom was their backup plan if we got away with them. 

       What didn’t enter their minds was that we would attack Constantinople to retrieve our men instead of paying the ransom – because it would clearly be impossible for a handful of Latins from England to successfully attack the great Byzantine Empire and hold it to ransom.

@@@@@

         It’s still cool in the early morning.  Our men spent most of the night unloading our equipment and supplies and erecting the tents we brought with us so they’ll have some shade.  Now they’re sleeping in their battle ranks with their pikes and swords and bows by their sides.  It’s no wonder they can sleep – most of them have been awake for two straight days and some even longer.

         
Of course we knew enough to bring our linen shade tents with us; we’ve been in Cyprus for a couple of years where it gets even hotter in the summer than it does here.

      
Henry and I are still awake and Harold has just come ashore and joined us.  Father Apostos is still moaning and pretending to sleep in the galley beached immediately behind us.

       “What we’ve learned from the priest explains a lot.  But it doesn’t change the reality that we’re here with a small and outnumbered force of men and the city can still get food and provisions both by land and by sea.  We’ve got to change that.  So here’s what we’re going to do tonight after the sun goes down.”

       We are still looking at the map and talking about the details when one of our sentries gives a shout.  The city gate closest to us is opening.  A small party of horsemen is coming out.

       “Bring me the leather message quiver from the forecastle” I order one of the Marines standing nearby.  Then I pick up my bow, clap my straw sun hat on my head, motion for my guards to follow me, and walk out to meet the horsemen.  Harold and Henry stay behind.

       There are four of them and ten of us.

       A rather arrogant looking fellow with fancy clothes and a great huge turban on his head is their leader.  He pulls his horse to a stop about ten feet in front of us.  I interrupt him when he starts to say something in Greek.

       “Latin, French, or English,” I say in Latin with a dismissive shake of my hand as my runner jogs up and hands me the leather message case with my response to the ransom demand.

       “The general doesn’t speak Latin.  He wants to speak to your leader.” One of the riders offers in bad French.

       “He’ll have to make do with me.  But I’m rather sure this is what he wants.”  That’s what I say in French as I hand the leather pouch back to my messenger and motion for him to take it to man who seems to be in charge.

       “There are two parchments inside.  One is your ransom demand.  The other is our response.  They will tell you all you need to know.  We will leave when you deliver the rest of our men and ten thousand gold bezants.  I suggest you move promptly.  The price for saving your lives and your city will be another thousand bezants higher tomorrow and every day thereafter.”

       The Byzantine riders appear dumbfounded by me, their reception, and my response.  Ten minutes later I’m back under the shade of my tent and they are trotting through the distant city gate.  It’s getting seriously hot.

@@@@@

       That evening as soon as the sun goes down our somewhat rested men haul one of our smaller and sturdier galleys out of the water on log rollers and begin moving it across the peninsula of land to the water on the other side.  We follow the dirt path that runs along the little stream and bring our bales of arrows with us.

       The area outside the city walls is surprisingly empty of buildings and villages.  It’s farm land and pasture and those who work it must live in the city.  The only living things near us are some cattle and a couple of horses – they’ll for sure be roasting over our cooking fires when we stop to eat.

      
Not surprising at all is that today there is no one about for us to question even though we can see quite a bit of movement coming in and out of the city.  There must be a road up ahead.

       All night long the galley is pulled slowly forward with teams of men picking up the logs it passes over and running them around to put them in front of it again.  When the sun comes up the galley is almost two miles from shore and our shade tents are up.  Everyone is openly wagering on how soon the Byzantines will launch an attack.

       Henry and I are kneeling down by a parchment map when who should walk up but Harold walk with a group of armed sailors.  It’s a couple of hours after sunrise. I recognize some of his men as being from the crew of his personal galley and nod to them. 

      
They’re from Harold’s galley crew and clearly very curious about what we are doing.  Harold waves his unspoken approval and they soon wander off to marvel at the galley being moved on land.

      
Harold is the bearer of good news.

       “The waters hereabouts are clear of Byzantine galleys and we’ve got the waterways blocked so no ships can get to the city.  The only warships from the Bosphorus to the Mediterranean are five Venetian galleys beached across the way at the Venetian concession.”

       “Good.  Does that mean you can free up some of the archers and rowers still on your galleys?”

       “Aye, it does.  But there’s something else; two of the prizes have some something strange on board.  They’ve each got a great huge smith’s bellows to pump air.  It’s attached to a big iron kettle full of liquid that smells funny and there’s a long iron bar with a hole in the middle attached to the kettle.  I think it’s the fire thing we’ve been hearing about.  You know, the Greek Fire thing.” 

       “Interesting.  Hmm.  Well, keep them safe until we have a chance to find out how they work.  Do the slaves know?”

       “They didn’t have no slaves, neither galley.”

       “Well may some of the other slaves know how the thing works.  Did you free them yet?”

       “That’s one of the things I want to talk to you about.  I knows how you feel about freeing serfs and slaves.  But most of these don’t look like honest sailor men what got captured with their ships. I think they’re felons and murderers who didn’t get topped.  I’ve got a sailor man who speaks the Greek on William the smith’s galley.  I’m going to send him around with a couple of sergeants to free any English and sailors, but if it’s all right with you I’ll feed the rest real good but keep them in chains until we can sort them out.”