51.
51.
The Varangians were fundamentally the emperor's personal bodyguard, so they always moved together with the emperor.
This meant that a battlefield where the Varangians were deployed was a truly fierce one. But unfortunately, in the case of this battlefield, the character was a little different.
"Symbatios! You rat bastard! How long will you just keep hiding!"
Adramyttion, within sight of Lesbos, was a land at the edge of a long bay, and while this region of Thrakesion was all mountains and hills, it was a place where a flat plain had uniquely opened up.
That was not to say there were no slopes to the ground, however, and the armies of Symbatios and Peganes, who had encamped a step ahead of us, greeted the imperial army having already seized the high ground. The imperial commanders, already unable to outnumber them with their hastily gathered forces, maintained a stalemate and intended to await the reinforcements from other Themes that would be arriving shortly.
A most reasonable, practically textbook approach, but here my presence became a variable...
The emperor, having gone to the trouble of hosting an honored guest, could not simply idle away the time, and so desired a more aggressive attack.
'At a glance, it's close to the trolling of a debauched and foolish emperor, but...'
In truth, it was a move with more complex political calculations behind it.
The rallying cry of that rebel leader Symbatios, in rising up against the emperor, was that Basil's elevation to co-emperor was unjust.
The gist was whether the emperor was favoring those from Macedonia—that is, from here and the region across the sea—while conversely discriminating against the people of Asia Minor, and so if the matter dragged on for long, what the strategoi of Asia Minor and Anatolia, who bore considerable ill will toward both the emperor himself and Basil, might be thinking was a matter impossible to be certain of.
Both the emperor and the co-emperor found themselves in a situation where they had to crush Symbatios in a single stroke.
'For Symbatios, the longer he holds out, the better his chances will get. If the war drags on longer than expected, the emperor will start to agonize over it too. If he demotes Basil and elevates Symbatios, he can escape the immediate crisis.'
That was why the person in the greatest hurry here, surprisingly, was the co-emperor Basil.
"The terrain the enemy has settled upon is high and broad. It is not easy to maneuver the Tagmata. Your Majesty, we must press them by force. The Skoutatoi must hold out long enough for the Tagmata to outflank."
"Hmm-."
The sporadic skirmishing on the first day was light clashes on the scale of centuries. About the level of throwing out a few jabs to test the opponent's condition.
The prediction that the rebels would collapse by themselves was not yet proving very valid, and the forces of Thrakesion and Opsikion were still accepting Symbatios's command.
"Very well, Basil. Divide the Tagmata into five Droungos and outflank them. Let them draw a great circle. You shall lead them personally, Co-Emperor."
"I obey your command, Your Majesty!"
"I shall lead the Skoutatoi myself."
"But Your Majesty...!"
"Your Majesty!"
At the emperor's bombshell declaration, the vast and splendid tent was instantly filled with the cries of the commanders.
'That man Michael must have read too much heroic poetry.'
In truth, I myself enjoyed fighting at the vanguard of the troops... but honestly speaking, that was possible because I was at my level. When one has the skill to catch an arrow flying at one's back with bare hands, one may do so. But Michael was not someone like me, was he?
"Your Majesty...! The valor of an emperor is not of that sort...! I beseech you, reconsider, so that our valiant soldiers of Rome may fulfill the duties entrusted to them, and that from the rear you may encourage their courage...!"
Rentakios, whose composure and calm certainly fell short of the seasoned Damian I had seen at Cherson, made a desperate effort to sway the emperor's heart, but this chariot fanatic seemed to have already firmly made up his mind.
"Enough."
Unlike the image of a coltish emperor who had been running wild, when he spoke in a low, solemn voice, everyone around fell silent in an instant.
"Behold the proud emperors of our Rome: Trajan, Hadrian, Marcus Aurelius, Aurelian, Heraclius. Among the great emperors of old, there was not one who could not fight. They smashed every foe who faced them."
"But all those great figures did not personally take up the sword and charge forward...!"
"How can you be so certain of that, my kind subject, Rentakios? Then what of that king of the Greeks and god of Egypt, Alexander? Did not the greatest of conquerors personally take up the sword and strike down Darius of Persia?"
"But that..."
Rentakios could not bring himself to finish his sentence. What Rentakios probably could not bring himself to say was likely something along these lines: 'But you are not Alexander, are you! Your Majesty Michael!'
"My co-emperor Basil shall personally ride with the Tagmata. He does what he ought to do as a Roman. But what of Helgi Konungr here?"
With a composed voice and expression, Michael pointed at me.
"My good friend, Helgi Konungr, though he is not a Roman, has willingly come to the battlefield for Rome and for me. Helgi Konungr, I ask with the greatest pardon, but there is one thing I wish to ask of you."
"Speak."
"When our Roman infantry advances and the cavalry rides, will the Konungr merely stand at the rear and watch?"
I had come to fight, so I could not do that.
"I shall not. I do not seek out a fight, but neither do I avoid one."
Since it was a matter for the emperor and his subjects to decide anyway, I offered no particular personal opinion, merely stating the facts plainly, yet that seemed sufficient for the emperor.
"I see. Thank you, Helgi Konungr. Now, Rentakios, and proud citizens of Rome. This is why I must fight personally. Am I not the emperor of Rome? Therefore, speak of my quarters no more."
The faces of the generals were not all in agreement at the command issued as though it were beyond dispute, but they spoke no further.
On the contrary, something like reverence even seemed to settle in the soldiers' eyes.
Of course, Rentakios's face grew all the paler, looking as though he might even clutch at the emperor's sleeve, and Basil, though maintaining his poker face, wore a smile as if pleased, while the chill in both his eyes had deepened even further, leaving a striking impression from the subtle shift in his facial muscles.
"Basil's counsel is adopted. Prepare for battle, O Rome."
"Understood, Your Majesty!"
Above the heads of the Romans who bowed in unison, my own slightly lowered eyes met Michael's gaze.
Michael's eyes were smiling brightly.
Sporadic skirmishes continued for two more days.
We probed for their weaknesses, while they looked down upon our every move and responded.
The time had passed when brave detachments and scouts gauged each other by taking each other's lives, and now the real contest approached.
Thrakesion, Opsikion, Optimatoi, Boukellarion.
A civil war that had shaken four of the Empire's Themes.
Enemy forces: 20,000. A majority heavy infantry, relatively few cavalry.
Our forces: roughly 19,000. Significantly fewer heavy infantry than the enemy, a majority elite cavalry. Special elements: the Varangian Guard, and the warriors of Árós.
[Baaaam- buuuuung-]
[Baaaam- baaaam-]
The blaring of metal horns and trumpets rang out, and according to the plan devised over three days, the Roman military system, the pride of Rome, moved in unison.
'The deputy commanders' skill is remarkable. They know exactly what they must do.'
I had wondered if I had entered someone else's battlefield for nothing, but instead I felt greatly enlightened.
Although I had declared I would take up the sword myself, I remained by the Emperor's side with the Varangian Guard and a small number of Sköllrai cavalry as a rear reserve, so I could not see everything with my own eyes.
But my senses, which had already abandoned being human, relayed the situation on the vast battlefield in real time.
For a hastily mustered force, a considerable number of 14,000 infantry had gathered. Divided into seven groups of 2,000 each, and further split into five drungoi, the formations moved keeping distance from one another to avoid enemy fire as much as possible.
Splitting forces like that allowed for much more flexible operation. Of course, that required grueling training to make it possible.
"Tagmata—! Run!"
"Signalman! Sound the horn! Move quickly!"
The 3,000 Tagmata split into two halves, skirting around the enemy positioned right in front of them to the left and right. The left wing by Basil, the Örn wing by Basilikinos.
The enemy cavalry would come out to confront the flanking maneuver, but they would be no match in numbers, let alone in elite quality, so they could not delay them for long.
In the end, our heavy infantry line, playing the anvil's role, had to clash fiercely. Only then could we draw out even more of the enemy's reserves that they would have set aside to deal with our cavalry.
'Good. Then my task was set.'
In the end, my task was simple. To smash the enemy in front of me very hard.
"Right, we're advancing too! Forward!"
"Forward!"
Because all of Rome's renowned archers were in Trapezounta on the Black Sea coast of Asia Minor, both sides lacked specialist ranged troops like archers. Nevertheless, the javelinmen of long tradition and a few archer battalions loosed in unison and soon began to pierce each other's bodies.
"Ugh!"
"Kuk! I got hit in the knee!"
There were no bloodcurdling screams like 'Grraaahh!' or 'Keuaaak!'—only short groans occasionally sounded, and amid them, our javelinmen, unable to win the javelin duel with the enemy who were close enough to see each other's faces, broke and fled.
The difference in terrain could not be overcome by courage alone.
However, the light infantry's role was to draw the enemy's attention anyway.
During the time it took for roughly three exchanges of javelins and arrows, the imperial Skoutatoi, who had silently approached, began to advance slowly toward the enemy who formed a solid wall of spears beyond the gentle slope.
The Aquilifer lifted the Roman Aquila high into the sky with all his might, and the might of Rome, which had endured for a thousand years, advanced against fellow Romans.
"Nobiscum Deus! Nobiscum Deus!"
"God is with us! Hurry! God is with us!"
"Ooooooo-!"
Shouting an advance together with cries seeking God, the Roman soldiers all at once let out a beastly howl from behind the shields drawn up to their chins.
Soon, attacker and defender alike vibrated with the growling noise from behind their shields.
"Attack—!"
"Push!"
"Opsikion—! Stand your ground, not a single step back!"
"Thrakesion! Do not move!"
Short, clipped words flew and stuck in my ears.
As the forces raised for the defense and glory of the Empire unleashed their long training upon one another, the rebel infantry, with the clear advantage of terrain, began to push back the charging imperial troops instead.
"First rank! Reverse! Second rank! Cut down the enemy!"
"Don't pursue! Shields! Shields!"
This was my first time watching the Roman army fight. The first rank of infantry formed a porcupine-like barrier with large shields and long spears and tried to shove one another, but soon the imperial commanders, who were on the defensive, immediately pulled the first rank back and quickly sent in the swordsmen who had been waiting behind.
The imperial infantry raised their one-handed longswords called Spathas and charged in unison, bringing them down.
"Die!"
"In the name of God—!"
[Seogeok! Tik! Peok! Pook!]
"Grraah!"
"Ughk!"
Unlike when the spearhead soldiers had pushed each other, the swordsmen forced their way in trusting their shields and body armor. Under their hacking and thrusting attacks, a great many rebels fell in unison.
Of course, in return, soldiers of the imperial army were also impaled on spears or struck down by enemy swords and axes, but now the battle plunged into a sticky melee as if mired in a swamp.
Naturally, striking downward was stronger than the opposite, and with similar conditions, it was common sense even in the far future that the one holding the high ground had the advantage.
Though they had charged spiritedly with the Aquila held high, only men were dying, and against the enemy line that showed no sign of giving way, the Emperor on his famed steed Boukephalos bellowed.
"Do not follow the traitors! Soldiers of Thrakesion and Opsikion! I am the Emperor of Rome! Heeyah!"
"Wha—!? Your Majesty! Your Majesty!"
"Protect the Emperor!"
Utterly fearless, Michael kicked his horse's belly and charged toward the battlefield where arrows, spears, and swords flew.
Of course, I, who had Michael's every move in my surveillance net, did not delay and moved.
"Seutorolpeu! Refil! Let's move!"
"Yes! Konungr!"
[Buuuuung-!]
In the battlefield that had fallen into utter chaos, the horn's wild and rough roar resounded.