Short Story- Battle of the Bosnian Highlands

This short story can be found in my Chapbook, together with 2 other short stories & a collection of poems. This particular short story is based on actual events and also froms part of a historical-dark-fantasy trilogy I'm working on - I hope you enjoy it :)

*All profits from my Chapbook are going to AnimalsAsia :)

Short Story- Battle of the Bosnian Highlands

The Battle of the Bosnian Highlands – a fictional account of an actual battle which modern historians believe, had it not ended in the defeat of the Bulgarian Army, our Middle Ages and modern history would have altered drastically. 

In 927AD, The Battle of the Bosnian Highlands was fought between the armies of Bulgarian Tsar Simeon I and King Tomislav I of Croatia.  Few details are known of the actual battle other than the two sides, the estimated size of the armies (though even that is often disputed), the date, location and the outcome.  The only other thing known is Tomislav should never have won. How he did, remains a mystery and legend.

 

It was time.

Ivan strode into King Tomislav’s dressing room. “Sire, the horses are ready.”

“And the men?”

“Ready and prepared.”

“What of the Falconers?”

“Both stage one and the decoy birds and handlers await your command,” answered Ivan.

“Where is Father Petar?”

“In the chapel.”

“Fine. I shall go to the chapel, complete my confessions, then Father Peter will administer Communion to all who wish to partake.”

“Yes, Sire,” said Ivan and then left the King to finish dressing.

Tomislav’s brother entered the room as the King’s pageboy prepared the Kings battledress.”

“Brother, I feel this is not right. You must allow me to stand by your side!”

Tomislav shook his head. “I understand your feelings, yet…” Tomislav didn’t want to admit the possibility of defeat. “If we should lose the battle, we will have lost our land, our country, our identity. This I cannot allow.”

King Tomislav paused, choosing his words carefully. “If we were both to die in battle, and surely the Bulgars will kill both of us were they victorious, then our people will lose their king, their prince, their crown and everything.”

“Tomo, please,” implored his brother.

But Tomislav was immoveable. His country required a leader. If he died, someone must remain to protect the castle and lead the mighty Croat navy.

Tomislav ordered his brother, “My mind will not be swayed; now go, go to your wife, and leave me to my thoughts.”

The young prince wanted to argue, but accepted the futility in trying. He hugged his brother, kissed each cheek and left the warrior King to finish dressing.

As King Tomislav placed the last of his dress robes, his mind drifted. Ever since his first clash of metal as a youth of only seventeen at his father’s side, Tomislav loathed the effects of war. A fearless and brave soldier nevertheless, this first battle is where he received his scar. Struck by an enemy sword, his face shielded only just enough to save his left eye. King Tomislav never forgot the stinging pain of razor-sharp metal on tender skin. It is perhaps because of this experience that his army and soldiers received constantly training, for this king regretted every death and mourned every son of his nation lost to an invading assailant.