Book One: Chapter Nine (Part Two)
The Emperor and the Sultan
Symbasileus Ioannis shrugged in reply to his shield bearer's question. He took off his helmet, scorching hot from the desert sun, and scratched his head. He continued to ride with his helmet off, hoping that the sweat that had built up on his head would dry up quicker. His forces had been marching alongside him for days, all the way from Nicaea. The desert was all around them, its sloping hills of dirt seemed to reflect the sun's rays and smother the column of Romans.
"My lord, how far?" The shield bearer repeated the question.
Ioannis tuned towards him, looking him over. The shield bearer was a young noble, probably in his early twenties. He was energetic and religiously uptight, zealous even. He was itching for a fight, and his excitement for the melee betrayed a lack of experience with worldly matters. He fantasized of a glorious and perhaps bloodless victory. A brief flash of worry swept through Ioannis's mind as he realized that this "kid" was the one assigned to watch his back in combat. He shook his head at it and sighed, deciding to get to know him before the coming battle.
"We cannot be far. Perhaps we shall see them over the crest of that hill... I apologize, God did not bless me with a great ability to retain names. What do they call you?"
"Ale of Smyrna, my lord."
"And how old are you, Ale of Smyrna?"
"I am twenty-two, though in but two moons I shall become twenty three. Why do you ask, my lord?"
"You seem young for one to be carrying my shield. I do not mean to doubt your valor, but how can I expect one so young and perhaps inexperienced to be my protector in a bloody melee?"
The young noble reddened, obviously slightly flustered. "I may not have seen combat, but I am a fine warrior! Even the man the infantry call Achilles said that I wield my sword with the swiftness of a sea gale. I am ready to face the Turks, and to fell them with my blade."
"You look forward to the combat, then?"
"Of course, my lord. I am excited to show Rome my strength, and I am honored that you are present to watch."
"I will not question your swordsmanship, or your spirit, but why do you expect some kind of glorious victory to unfold? We are not marching to a battle of the ages."
"Any battle for Rome is glorious. Are you not looking forward to slicing down dozens of Turks?"
"What can I tell you, Ale of Smyrna? Battles are seldom as fanciful as you credit them to be. Be you a remarkable swordsman, and slay a man or many... But are you any greater for it? Sometimes, perhaps, if it is for a good cause, for the righteous and civilized mission of Rome. To protect your land or family. Do you understand what we fight for, Ale?"
"Yes, my lord. We fight for the glory of Rome."
"Were it so. When I was younger, such as you, I believed so as well. The reality of war is always different. The older I grow, the more I understand that glory is a concept invented for the morale of the infantry and the pride of historians."
"But then for the righteous cause? God is with us, and certainly that must be glorious. When we defeat the Turks here, will we march east into Anatolia? I have heard rumors that we intend to march all the way to Baghdad."
Ioannis smirked at the idea. "It seems some of the men are far greater dreamers than you are, Ale," he jokingly laughed. His smirk faded and he became serious once more. "Even if we win a crushing victory here, how will we march to Baghdad with all of our wounded?"
"Well there cannot be many! Why not leave that dozen to rest here?"
"Dozen? By God, you expect this battle to be bloodless!"
"My lord, I do not understand why you think the barbarians will inflict us a defeat..."
"Do not mistake what I say, Ale. I am confident in the strength of Roman arms on this day, but there is not one victory in the history of man that was not also a tragic defeat. Among the ranks of nobles, things do indeed seem simpler. Imagine, however, that you are one of those poor spearmen and your friend is felled by a Turkish arrow. Worse, imagine that you are the wife or child of a man slain somewhere beyond the horizon by far away evils. The Devil works his hand into the fabric of everything man deems good. No great victory is without loss."
"I understand, my lord."
"No, Ale, you really don't... But you will."
Ale nodded, disappointed that the Symbasileus did not approve his perspective on war. The Roman column was now coming over the crest of the hill, and Ioannis gestured for Ale to follow him. The two rode at a gallop for several minutes to reach the front of the column. There, Ioannis stopped near a broad cataphract with a scarred face.
"Well, general, what do you say of our enemy?" Ioannis asked, seeing a column of Turks crossing some hills in front of them.
"They're not many. We outnumber them two to one, but take a look at the quantity of their heavy cavalry. I did not know that the Turks could summon that many heavy riders for any but their Sultan. Symbasileus, are we underestimating the Turks?"
"We could be, general. I would very much like to meet their leader today, perhaps get a sense of him for the coming battle. Bring several of our cataphracts, and take Ale of Smyrna along, it'll do him good." Ioannis rode out past his line, followed closely by his bodyguards. The Roman lines continued to stream from a column into a coherent formation. In the distance, Ioannis could make out the enemy general doing the same.
"My wife gave birth a few months ago," Ioannis told his general in the hopes of breaking the increased tension.
"Ah yes, Symbasileus. I heard. A girl, is she not?"
"Yes, quite beautiful too. I'm glad I now have a child, but I am still waiting for a boy. Basileus Theodoros wishes me to become the next Basileus... over his own sons. You know me, I'm not one for bending tradition. I was reluctant, but he gives me no choice. I hope at least that I will secure a proper succession."
"My lord, you will make an excellent Basileus for Rome one day. You've earned the people's trust, and you've proven yourself many times."
"I hope so, general... Well, let us see what bastard the Turks have sent our way to die."
The two parties came to a standstill within two lances' distance from one another. The Romans stayed silent, but the Turks talked among themselves until one of their riders pulled on a rope, bringing forward a dirty, unfed looking man. He had a Turkish appearance, but wore tattered Roman clothing. His hands were bound and tied to the rope held by the Turkish rider. Some harsh sounding phrases were hurled in his direction, and he was prodded with a spear to walk forward until he was between the two groups.
One of the Turks began speaking with an audible tinge of disgust in his voice to the slave. The slave then turned to the Roman lines and began to translate in an accented Greek. "My masters ask why the infidels of Rome dare stand before him on the field of battle. It is the will of Allah for the armies of the Seljuk Sultanate to march through the streets of Constantinople."
Ioannis scowled. "Tell your master that, whoever he may be, I am Symbasileus Ioannis Vatatzes of Rome, and that no more Muslim boots will tread on Roman lands. I have held many victories over his kind and, should he not leave Rome immediately, we will crush him in the field today."
The translator, gulping, translated Ioannis's message. After listening to a string of swearing from his captors, the translator relayed their message back to Ioannis. "They say that the insanity of infidels knows no bounds. My masters say that Rome would do well to remember Manzikert. Rome must disband her armies and give up its protection of Trebizond, for its Emperor has insulted the Sultan."
Ioannis, furious, swore directly at the Turkish riders. "Who are your masters that they dare relegate such demands to the Symbasileus of Rome, who has defeated many Selkuk armies, and who has God's righteous will on his side."
The slave turned to translate, but the Turkish general raised his hand to silence him. He rode forward several steps to get a better look at Ioannis. In Greek, though with a heavy accent, he spoke. "I am Sultan Kaygubat of the Seljuk Sultanate of Rum. Under my hand, our Sultanate has prospered and grown in power. While Rome has struggled for its survival like a wild beast, we have built temples and palaces. While your men ate scraps, ours feasted upon the Mediterranean's finest. You may have held victory over what warlords and fools came your way, but I am the Sultan, and my men fight like great angels, with the might of Allah. Now, you shall either lick my boots and be spared, or I shall order my forces to behead every Roman warrior we capture today."
Ioannis was taken aback to discover that his enemy was the Sultan himself, but he quickly regained composure. "When hell freezes over, Sultan. I have nothing more to discuss with you... Prepare to fight."
The two parties parted bitterly, ready to spill blood.
Re: [SS 6.4] Imperial Purple Never Fades
Originally Posted by Roman Heritage
Hey Deepstrike, when's new update? Just curious, you've got some really excellent stuff in here. I somehow miss reading through it all
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I definitively liked how you went deeper into Ioannis' characterization. I loved it, I must say. You even left us with a small teaser 
