Fall of Empires

Chapter 6

Theophanes and Isaac rode side by side out of the Daphne Gate, ignoring the curious looks from their fellow citizens, who doubtless wondered why these two young men warranted an armed escort of Persian cavalry. Theophanes kept his gaze fixed straight ahead although he had noticed the bloody drag marks on the flagstones beside the gate that bore testament to the brief resistance which had been mounted against the unexpected Persian attack from within the city.

As his father had hoped, after the gate had been taken and the defenders on the walls swiftly overwhelmed, the waiting mass of Persian troops had been admitted to the city and Antioch had fallen quickly. The Persians had surged along the main streets and across the bridges which led to the Imperial Quarter on its island in the fork of the river. The bleary-eyed garrison had been taken utterly by surprise. The handful of defenders who had been on hand had been felled by a volley of arrows and the rest had surrendered without a fight. Romanus had been dragged from his bed where he had snored his way through the entire attack and had been confronted by the smiling Shahrbaraz who had informed him that he was to be relieved of his duties and could take his leave.

The contents of the imperial treasury along with the garrison’s stores and weapons had then been commandeered by Shahrbaraz but otherwise his troops had exercised admirable discipline and throughout the rest of the city there had been no damage, looting or rape.

As the city had awoken, the news had rippled through the populace that they were now under occupation. The overwhelming reaction was one of great relief that the siege had ended without massive slaughter and destruction although a few families mourned the men who had fallen in its fleeting defence. It seemed to the great majority a small sacrifice, although this was little consolation to those who had lost their loved ones. Eusebius had arranged for substantial gifts of money to be sent to the widows.

In the mid-morning a grim looking Persian officer had arrived at the house of Eusebius and had departed with Eusebius and Bardas in tow, escorting them to an audience with Shahrbaraz. Later that day the same man had returned with orders to escort Theophanes and Isaac out to the Persian camp. Theophanes had held Anna for a long time, unable to tear himself away until at last he had felt Isaac’s hand on his shoulder and he had released her.

Theophanes had mounted Bucephalus whilst Isaac and Anna had hugged goodbye. As they rode away Anna had called out to Isaac.

‘You look after him, Brother or I’ll pull your ears off when you come home!’
Isaac had turned and given a cheerful wave. Theophanes had kept looking straight ahead and then before they turned the corner of the street he had taken a final look back at Anna with her hand raised in farewell and the tears streaming down her cheeks and he had choked back hard on the lump in his throat.

‘You have got it easy, my friend,’ Isaac had quipped. ‘There are girls all over the city weeping over my departure. I thought I would never get away.’

Their escort broke into a swift trot as they headed away from the city and made their way down into the Persian camp. They turned this way and that along the haphazard lanes left between the rows of tents. Smoke rose from cooking fires and braziers and the air was thick with dust and the smells of human sweat, roasted meat, horse dung and leather. Arriving in the middle of the camp they found themselves in an open space with what they took to be the general’s campaign tent at its centre and here their escort motioned them to dismount. The tent dwarfed all of those around it. It was sturdily constructed from panels of stitched leather and stood  as high as a modest house. A gaudy pavilion of green silk extended from the front of the tent. 

Within the pavilion a man whom Theophanes took to be in his mid-forties sat amongst an ornate array of multi-coloured rugs and cushions. Beside him was a low table upon which stood an intriguing looking board game made up of regular squares with what appeared to be two armies arrayed upon it facing each other. The ivory pieces were carved into the shape of soldiers, horses and even elephants. Theophanes liked the look of it. The man rose to greet them, revealing himself to be tall and powerfully built. He was dressed in a clean and simple flowing white tunic and trousers and wore his hair long to his shoulders. His beard was oiled to a point and his cheeks were clean shaven. His eyes were fierce but not cruel and his nose completed his hawk-like appearance.
‘General Shahrbaraz, these are the hostages from the house of the fat merchant,’ their escort announced, unaware that both Isaac and Theophanes spoke Persian fluently from their many travels with Theophanes’ father on trading expeditions. Isaac rolled his eyes and Theophanes grinned.
‘Welcome to my camp,’ Shahrbaraz addressed them directly in Persian. ‘Your fathers have proved to be wise and honourable men. You will be treated with all courtesy. You are not prisoners, but you are bound by your fathers’ word to remain with us, for the safety of your city.’