Fall of Empires

Chapter 37

The way-station was a welcome sight after another long day in the saddle. Trotting around a bend in the road they saw it at last, nestled in the shadow of the valley’s steep, tree-covered wall. Fording the clear, fast-flowing stream, Theophanes and Isaac gratefully spurred their horses on towards the pair of stout windowless buildings constructed from rough-hewn pine logs. Smoke rose through a hole in the roof of the smaller cabin with the promise of warmth and cooked food. They had ridden hard since making landfall in Trebizond and had barely paused for refreshment and new mounts. For tonight however, they had agreed that they would take their rest before pressing on in search of the emperor’s forces at first light. As they approached the way-station two men in grubby military tunics emerged stooping from one of the buildings. One, heavy set and with a thick greying beard, slowly raised a hand in greeting.

The two men stepped forward to take their reins as Theophanes and Isaac pulled up their mounts in front of the second building which served as a stable. Half a dozen well-conditioned horses nodded and snorted in greeting at the new arrivals. Theophanes looked forward to his reunion with Bucephalus when they reached the final way-station on the road.

‘You boys look tired,’ the younger, smaller and more affable looking of the pair commented with a thick Armenian accent as they gratefully dismounted, stretching and rubbing at their backs.

‘It has been a long ride from Trebizond,’ Isaac conceded.

‘What news from Constantinople? Still standing is it?’ The older and gruffer of the two asked in an accent which suggested that he hailed from the city itself.

‘The siege is over,’ Theophanes announced. ‘The Avars are beaten.’

‘And the Persians?’
‘Retreating also.’ Isaac patted his horse on the rump as it was led away. ‘Got anything to eat?’

‘We bagged a few rabbits earlier,’ said the Armenian as he took Theophanes’ horse.
Theophanes and Isaac exchanged a rueful grin at the return to their old staple diet.
‘Much of a scrap was it?’ The older man returned from the stable.

‘The worst was over by the time we got there,’ Isaac told him and then could not help adding with a grin. ‘We may have had a small hand in the final victory.’

The Constantinopolitan gave a snort. ‘Well hail the conquering heroes! It is an honour to have you share our humble accommodation. Pray, what is your name, Sir, so I can be sure to tell my grandchildren that your horse once took a shit in my stable.’

Theophanes chuckled at the man’s disregard for their martial accomplishments whilst Isaac did his best not to look affronted.

‘My name is Isaac Psellus. This is my companion Theophanes Diogenes and we are special envoys for the emperor.’

‘Indeed.’ The older man remained unimpressed as he disappeared inside the accommodation hut. ‘Do be sure to give the Basileus my regards and ask him if he could please get this damned war over before the winter so I don’t have to freeze my arse off in this God-forsaken place again.’

‘We will see what we can do,’ Theophanes replied.

‘Forgive Andronicus, he has quite forgotten his manners in this place,’ the Armenian entreated them as he returned from seeing to the horses. He gestured for Theophanes and Isaac to make themselves comfortable within the hut.

They gladly flopped down on the rush-covered floor. The interior of the hut was as simple as the outside. A circular hearth of smooth pebbles gathered from the stream bed contained a small wood fire in the centre of the floor beneath a hole left in the roof for ventilation. A battered cooking pot was suspended above it. Rough beds arranged from sacks stuffed with straw occupied the far ends of the cabin. It would be a harsh place to spend another winter, Theophanes reflected.