Chapter 598: The Might of Water
In fact, Julian had a better idea.
The region of Thrace, including its prominent city Edirne, basks in the balmy embrace of the Mediterranean climate. Typically, the latter months of the year such as December or January are drenched in abundant rainfall. However, as time nudges into June, this pattern shifts. The summer heat prepares to hit its zenith in a week or two, and the rainfall dwindles to its annual minimum.
In the throbbing heart of the city, where every soul is mobilised, there’s a surge in the need for water to sustain the inhabitants’ hydration levels. Interestingly, the city doesn’t abound with wells. Instead, its lifeblood is the water drawn primarily from the neighbouring Tunca and Maritsa rivers. During the times when this city was still widely known as Adrianopolis, under the shadow of the Roman rule, the city’s water supply was heavily dependent on the aqueducts and sewers - an ingenious network erected and maintained throughout that era. These vestiges of an infidelic past continue to quench the city’s thirst, even as the seasons change and its inhabitants labour beneath the summer sun.
And hence, Julian suggested on blowing up vital parts of the old Roman aqueducts, building canals and dams to change the course of the water, in order to achieve his ultimate goal of dehydrating the entire city, forcing them into a complete submission. People might withstand hunger for a long period of time depending on rations or stored food, but no one can last for longer than a week without fresh water, which brings the Roman time, and time is one of the most needed thing in a war.
This tactic is never new, for it has been already used numerous times in the past, but still no sane commander would want to use it unless if he’s got no better choice, for the devastations and catastrophes that come with this strategy is unmeasurable, and it requires a lot of effort, a lot of manpower, for reshaping the environment that mother nature has curved up for her children is never an easy task to do.
"Can it be done though, Julian?" Antonius tilted his head and looked at his general. "I must remind you that the river of Maritsa is pretty wide."
"Yes, your Majesty." Julian replied with his usual emotionless face, as if not knowing the consequences of the strategy that he has just suggested. "There are no need to work on the river of Maritsa, for it flows outside the city walls, we can keep a few garrisons of archers along the banks and on the island in the river firing upon anyone who approaches, the river that we need to work on is the river of Tunca, for it directly flows into the city."
Julian took out a detailed geographical graph and spread it across the table with the detailed plans labelled making Antonius gulp in a mouthful of cold air – this man, with no emotions on his face, came prepared, he had this devilish plan in his mind even before the battle started, and from the plan spread out before him, Antonius knows that this general is very well aware of the consequences of his actions.
All the Roman commanders in the tent looked upon Antonius, waiting him to make a decision.
A demon or an angel, he decide.
For both options have equally heavy consequences, one on the native population, and one on his own soldiers.
Antonius did not reply till a minute later. "Carry out both, stop any reinforcements from entering the city, and also... Blow up portions of the Aqueduct, the parts that can be repaired easily later on, jam up all the sewers and pipes, and... and... change the course of river Tunca."
"Yes, your Majesty." Julian nodded, scrolled up his plan, and went back to the side, quiet as always.
Antonius took a peek at his beloved general, feeling that he has become more and more alien, more and more inhumane, transforming into an ice cold war machine that would prioritise on achieving the determined strategical goal in the shortest possible route without thinking about the aftermath, impact and consequences – in other words, more and more like a true soldier.
The Caesar sighed and threw a quill onto the map watching it slowly falls onto the city of Edirne, still with his remaining compassionate and love for human lives he added up to his previous order. "Write a hundred pieces of letters to the people of Edirne, tell them about our plans, advise them to hide as much water as possible."
"Your Majesty..." Julian tried to argue but got immediately interrupted by his sovereign.
"Do the Ottomans now still have an army to interfere us with our plans?"
"Emm no."
"Well then, we give them a heads up on what we are going to do next, then let them watch in despair as we carry on and progress with our plans until they see their own ends with their own eyes, maybe that will make them submit even faster."
"Roger, your Majesty."
Antonius leaned back, paused a bit, and suddenly started a totally different topic. "How is our little Sultan doing now?"
"He is doing fine, more fine than ever, turning himself into a gluttonous creature gulping up every ounce of food we offer him."
"Did he say anything?"
"No, he did not speak a single word to anyone for the last two days."
"I see, just watch over him, be careful if he attempts any funny tricks."
"Aye, your Majesty."
"..."
"With that, gentleman, that concludes the meeting for the day, back to your posts."
...
General Julian moved out with his two thousand strong troops, off to the designated spot of camps and ambush as told by Khalid’s scouts. Antonius remained here to assist in sending the casualties to Drama, restocking all the necessary goods, and recruiting workers and veterans from the farms of nearby farms and villages.
The Varangians led by Fjodor and Halfdan arrived a few days later, but instead of sailing to Kavala they performed their old tricks back in their Nordic homes, and sailed directly into the river of Martisa, ransacking all the surrounding Ottoman holdings, these bunch of four hundred Varangians with equipment sailed for a staggering seventy plus Roman miles into the heartlands and capital of the Ottoman Sultanate without meeting any form of resistance, creating a wide spread terror that stroke into every single inhabitant of Edirne, forcing the Sultana Dowager to shut all the gates and keep a defensive stance since the arrival of the Varangians.
Alexios finally arrived on the spot as well, taking over all the logistics works with his team of professional accountants and scribes from the already overworked Caesar, together with them came five hundred plus newly employed workers who came to work on the river as requested.
Abdullah sent a heartfelt letter to Antonius, imploring him to reassess his tactics and, if time allowed, spare the lives of the Ottomans sheltered within Edirne’s walls.
Antonius understands the feelings of his fellow chancellor, for even indigenous animals head back to their nests during in the final stages of life. No matter how much Abdullah has served and contributed towards the one and common Roman idea, he is, at the end of the day, still of an Ottoman origin, forming the main difference in the decision making level of the supreme government when it comes to issues related to the Ottoman Sultanate.
Antonius threw the angry letter into the furnace and watched as the flames swiftly consumed it, reducing it to a handful of ashes, then leaned back and sighed. Stability among the top management is most needed at times of war. No one else, apart from him, should see this letter, as This letter was something that no one else should see. It had the potential to rip open the facade of tranquility in the government, unveiling disputes at the highest level. People from all ranks might then begin to question Abdullah’s loyalty, accusing him of aligning with the enemy. Antonius knew that many were watching Abdullah’s position with covetous eyes. But this was a situation Antonius was determined to prevent.
But still, Antonius needs to heed the advice, no, request of Abdullah: He needs to talk with the city.
By now the hundred letters ought to have been read and spread across the entire Edirne, inclusive of the Sultana Dowager. Maybe it is a good time now to try to persuade the stubborn widow into a talk or try to influence her mind. If the city submits her knees, then all shall go well, there will be a minimum level of casualties for both sides, and the wishes of Abdullah will be fulfilled. But if the widow did not heed the request of the Caesar, then there will be inevitably a final show down between this pair of century old rival, and at least Antonius can tell his old friend that he has tried his best but all attempts for peace have failed.
However, just as Antonius was about to embark, a final message came from Thessaloniki.
Anjelo has died.
