Chapter 616: Charge For Constantinople
"Your Majesty... Your Majesty!"
A distant shout echoed, growing louder as the messenger approached, a piece of paper waving urgently in his hand.
"Message from Constantinople! Message from Constantinople!"
The soldier’s voice wavered with his final breaths before he collapsed from his horse, crashing into the rocks. Only now did Antonius see an arrow protruding from the messenger’s back. Blood stained his armour, and sheer determination had kept him in the saddle.
"Tend to his wounds, give him some wine, go easy on him" Antonius commanded with his eyebrows tightly squeezed together, dismounting swiftly hopping down his horse. "Give me the message."
"Wait! Your Majesty!" The soldier mustered his strength, his vision blurred by blood and grime. "I am fine, but my comrades at the Golden Gate await my news. Please!"
"The Golden Gate?" Antonius inquired, aghast on the news. "What can possible happen with the Golden gates?"
"The senate is attempting to disarm, purge, and wipe out the disloyalties in the army that disobeyed the senate’s command, my commander discerned Fabrizio’s treacherous plans and positioned us at the Golden Gate, just in case if in the worst case scenario anything happens, but that dirty scumbag, Fabrizio, has already started attacking our defences on the walls, we only have a mere two hundred men, it is almost impossible for us to hold any longer! Your majesty!"
Antonius narrowed his eyes, for he realised something; The uprising troops have taken control of the Golden Gate.
"How much longer can you think that your men can last? Who is your commander?"
"A day at most... led by Markos..."
The soldier’s energy waned, and he succumbed, cradled by a nearby Varangian.
"Your Majesty." Cerberus approached nervously. "What should we do now?"
Antonius glanced from the fallen messenger to the looming silhouette of Constantinople, murmuring to himself, "Is it the fate of the Romans to always fall into the state of civil war?"
He then turned around, and asked Khalid. "How many cavalries do we have in command right now?"
Swiftly, he addressed Khalid, "How many cavalries are at our disposal?"
"Approximately four hundred, excluding sentries," Khalid reported.
"Muster them. Khalid, Cerberus, ride with me to Constantinople. We’ll reach by dawn."
"But, Your Majesty!" Cerberus protested, "The Golden Gate is besieged. We don’t know the enemy’s strength or plans. Charging blindly with just four hundred could be a death wish!"
"My decision is final," Antonius declared, his voice firm and unwavering, his hand raised to silence any further protest. "This is our singular opportunity, and I will not squander it. I’ve already witnessed the tragic loss of Helios and countless brave souls at the walls of Kavala. I shudder to think of the potential cost in the lives of our brothers and sisters of Thessaloniki beneath the impregnable walls of the Theodosian. If it requires me to brave the treacherous unknown to spare them, then so be it. I am not merely their Caesar, but their protector and beacon. I will face any peril to shield them from harm."
His eyes shone with resolve, and the weight of the laurel on his head seemed to press not downward, but to lift him, making him stand taller, every inch the majestic leader his people needed.
Cerberus gulped at such an image of his Caesar, while Khalid has already begun assembling all the knights, or anyone who can ride a horse he can possibly find. While Julian too has received the order that there will be no breaks today, all battle stations are ordered to march till they touched the walls of Constantinople.
Six hundred riders, inclusive of mounted infantries are raised in the end of the hour.
Antonius paraded across the line of mounts, with his royal standards, the cross of Chi – Rho and the flag of war tightly following behind him.
"We don’t have much time; give them the best gears and equipment our logistics can possibly find." Antonius ordered, paused for a second, and continued. "Maximos, do you still have those... those handheld canons with you?"
"Do you mean those weapons Master Orban copied using the confiscated ’Arquebus’, your Majesty? We have around a hundred and fifty of them, with twenty bags of mixed gun powder."
"Yes, distribute those among the mounted infantries..." Antonius interrupted his own words, as he saw something in the formations, it is a young man, or probably a teenager, with little to no moustache hanging by his lips, fidgeting around as he tries his best for the oversized armour to fit his narrow shoulders.
Antonius came forward to the young man, stared at him, and asked. "How old are you, my son?"
Stammering, the young soldier replied, "I... I am seventeen this year, your Majesty!" As he tried to dismount and bow in respect, the too-large armour caught in the saddle, nearly toppling him over. A ripple of laughter echoed from the nearby soldiers. Antonius placed a firm hand on the boy’s shoulder, the touch both comforting and stern. "My son, it honours me to witness such fervour in soldiers like you. But remember, my edict was clear: only seasoned warriors, those with over five years in service and who have living siblings, are to partake in this mission. The stakes are perilously high." "My son, it is an honour for me to be served by faithful and valorous soldiers like you, but I remember that my orders are clear, only soldiers with more than five years of military experience and have siblings alive in their families are allowed to attend in this operation, we might not make it out alive this time round."
"Your Majesty!" The young teenager had a shiver down his body as he made a salute on the mount. "Please, do not deny my chance to partake in this honourable mission... For... For..."
Antonius frowned. "For what."
"For... For I really need that promised thirty silver Stavratons!"
More laughters and jeers can be heard from the surrounding.
Mirthful chuckles rose again, but the boy’s plea held a deeper, desperate undertone. Antonius’ brows drew together, his tone dropping to a chilling whisper, "We don’t battle for mere coins. We stand for the Roman ethos, for our kin enslaved by oppressors. Who is your commissary?"
"But I really need the thirty silver Stavratons sir!" The soldier cried out. "The governor of my town has collected almost half of my family’s harvest last year! My family is waiting for my monthly pay in order to buy enough breads for my younger siblings! Please! Your Majesty!"
The Caesar’s face went ashen. "Half? What’s the name of your governor?"
"Elassona, from the district of Larissa, your Majesty..."
Antonius’ disbelief swiftly morphed into cold fury. "Just last month, Larissa’s governor reported a mere twenty percent tax on farmers. Are you toying with me, boy? Do you comprehend the grave consequences of deceit?"
The lad quivered, tears brimming, "It’s the truth, my Lord! For the past four years, they’ve taken half, claiming it aids the war effort."
Antonius’ gaze grew dark, promises of retribution lurking within. "Tell Apostolos and Abdullah to—"
Khalid approached the Caesar carefully. "Your Majesty, it is probably not the best time to investigate about this now, time is still running."
"Fine, my son, you shall be a part of the operation, as one of my guards, remember, as my guard you are not supposed to leave my side at any time."
With a mix of elation and reverence, the boy managed, "Thank you, my Lord."
Antonius turned back to the front of the line of mounts, but that easy mood and valorous mind has already vanished, as his mind is being torn into parts by the sudden acknowledgement of the situation in Larissa.
Has the governor of Larissa been lying to him? If he is not, then who? The young fellow had no cause to lie to him, or is it the central ministerial office hiding the information away from him? Or is it... Abdullah?
Antonius is a dictator, and dictators are meant to be lonely.
But still, first thing first.
Antonius strode to the front of the army, unsheathing his gleaming blade, its edge catching the sun’s rays, and bellowed out his cries of war. "Follow me! My sons! Today we liberate our fellow Romans suffering under the oppression of the tyranny under the senate! March with me!"
And with that clarion call, seven hundred steeds surged forward. Their hooves pounded the ground, resonating like thunder, and stirring up billows of dust in their wake. It was a storm of sand and intent, a harbinger of the mightiest force the land had yet seen. The natural beauty of Thrace, bathed in summer’s warmth, was lost to these men. Their eyes and hearts were set on a loftier prize: the liberation of the Crown Jewel of Cities, Constantinople.
"Charge!"
With that, the seven hundred cavalries set off, with Khalid at the front, scouting the terrains while also calling back all the other cavalry sections, and Cerberus serving as the rear guard, with all the other mounted infantries who are not that familiar with riding.
