Antioch Burns (6 page)

“You there! Watch Officer! Are you in charge of the gatehouse?”

“I’m not sure,
Praefectus
. As far as I know, no one is in charge.”

“You’re wrong, soldier. I am in charge. As the last ranking officer of the Syrian IV, I am putting this city under martial law.”

“You can’t do that, the city watch reports to the governor, not the IV.” The man began to argue with the
praefectus.
His patience gone, nerves frayed by the battle outside the gates, Regillus made a decision. He punched the Watch Officer in the stomach, then kneed him in the face as he doubled over.

The
praefectus
turned to the men behind him.

“You, you, and you. Secure the gatehouse. The city must be defended at all costs. They will answer to me, or to…” He looked over the mixed force of
cataphractarii
and legionnaires at his command. Other men in the courtyard from the IV were coming to join his detachment, drawn by the calmness and control he exhibited.

“You.” He pointed to one of the grizzled non-commissioned officers. Regillus looked questioningly at him.

“I am
Decanus
Amelio, sir.”

“Decanus Amelio, you will take charge of the gatehouse and surrounding defenses. Organize these defenders.” He gestured to the men in the courtyard. “And move along the wall to secure it from the Mongols. Our defenses need to be…” He searched for the right word to make his intentions clear. “Secured. With the help of the city watch and the remnants of the IV, we can save Antioch.”

Amelio saluted, taking the anointed men with him into the depths of the gatehouse.

Behind him, the injured Watch Officer was stirring on the ground. Marching angrily over to him, Regillus kicked the downed Watch Officer for good measure. He lectured the hapless man.

“The IV is in control. Not the governor. That man got most of the garrison slaughtered with his idiotic orders. You
will
obey my commands. Is that clear?” The man groaned, his head barely managing to nod.

“Help him up, keep him under guard.” Several other soldiers came forward, hoisting the garrison trooper to his feet.

“The rest of you, with me. It is time we paid the governor a visit. Get me a horse.”

While some of his underlings located a horse, Regillus felt the energy drain out of him. He dealt with a dozen minor matters, from the location of temporary hospitals and triage places, to the redistribution and command of the multitude of scratch companies assembled from the remains of the Syrian IV’s
cohorts
and cavalry detachments. The shaky defense began to solidify as a chain of leadership emerged from the ruins of the disastrous battle. New centurions were selected, underofficers chosen, and new conscripts assigned from the city garrison legion.

During a break in the activity, Regillus managed to scarf down two crusty rolls offered by a camp supporter. He was slumped on a bench, resting his feet for a moment, when a well-dressed messenger rode into the plaza, a handful of personal guards dressed in a similar manner pulling up behind him.

“I’m looking for the senior officer here! I bear a message from the governor.” Regillus cursed. He had hoped to be able to deal with the governor in person, not some minor functionary. Regillus forced himself to his feet.

“You’ve found him.”

“The governor has requested that I take command of the Syrian IV. You are relieved of your duties and are ordered to return to the barracks.” The man informed him haughtily. “With the death of the Legate General, it is up to Governor Leftaro to assign a new commander.”

“And you’re the new commander?” Regillus replied in his most bored voice.

“Yes, by the gods, I am.
Doux
Hasdrun Pillotai.” He gave a bow, doffing his feathered helmet with a flourish.

Regillus repressed a shudder. Every minor nobleman claimed he was a
doux
, or duke, but few could actually trace their pedigree back to the original Greek settlers of Alexander the Great’s ancient empire.

“There must be a problem then. We already have a commander.” A voice interrupted from a nearby doorway.

Senior
Decanus
Etruscas had managed to survive the battle as well, hobbling around on crutches with one of his knees swathed in bandages. His appearance made Pillotai grimace in disgust.

“Here, sir.”

He handed over a wet cloth. “You should wipe your face and clean off some before you go to the governor’s palace. You will want the governor to feel secure in the new leadership of the IV.”

Regillus took the cloth, wiping the grime from his hands. His mind was in overdrive, trying to catch up to Etruscas’ scheme.

“Of course,
decanus
. I can borrow this gentleman’s horse.” Pillotai looked affronted and spluttered in disagreement.

“What an excellent idea, your Legate Generalship. You should leave right away, sir. We will keep the
doux
company and ensure he is apprised of the situation.”

“Thank you so much, senior decanus. I should not be gone long. The governor should not need much convincing.” Regillus managed to put on a confidant smile.

“Of course not, sir. He should be grateful to have a veteran officer in charge. What would you have me do?”

“Keep things under control here. Repulse any Mongol attacks, but keep an eye on the civic legion as well. Spread them out among our men, and they should stay strong.” Etruscas nodded, gave a salute, then hobbled off. Several other soldiers in the courtyard helped Pillotai off his horse, their hands grasping swords or spears. Regillus mounted the piebald, and turned to watch a
demi-cohort
of men form behind him.

“We’re here to protect you from any bandits or robbers in the city, sir. You never can tell when civic order may break down on the way to the palace. Especially with the garrison legion on the walls and not in the streets,” their commanding officer informed him.
Very impressive he can say that without cracking a smile,
 Regillus thought.
It is obvious Etruscas had thought about the governor trying to seize control after such a battle, especially with the Legate General dead.

It was a short ride from the northern gate, across the Orestes River and into the main citadel. The palace occupied one third of the island citadel, the intricate marble friezes luminous in the bright sunlight. To one side was the main citadel, solid granite blocks of dark grey creating an imposing fortress next to the delicate designs of the palace, to the other, the plaza and building that served as both the imperial air fleet base and the passenger terminal.

Regillus rode into the palace courtyard. The few guards remaining shrank back at his appearance.
Am I really that terrifying? Or is it what I represent?
Regillus wondered as the
demi-cohort
of infantry quick marched in behind him.

“
Decanus
, select an infantry file and have them join me. Remain here with the rest of the men to ensure that no Mongol or Mongolian supporter attempts to harm the governor.”

Answering in the affirmative, the decanus called off a string of names, and a group of weathered and stern looking legionnaires formed a wedge behind the
praefectus
as he passed beneath the marble arch and into the palace. Servants scurried out of his way as his boots slapped against the tile floors. He walked past expensive tapestries and pieces of art. Marble friezes carved by famous artists studded the walls. Groups of palace guards shied away from impeding the Syrian IV’s leader as he marched deeper into the mansion.
Some bodyguards,
he thought,
more like street toughs in fancy clothing.

Finally, the guards must have steeled their nerves, for they barred entrance into the governor’s audience chamber.
Or had it steeled for them,
thought Regillus sardonically.

“You are not permitted into the throne room,” the guard captain informed him.

Regillus looked around at his men. The veterans stared down the guards. The tension weighed heavily in the air.

“I think the governor would like to hear what we have to say.”

“I’m sorry,
praefectus
, but you are not allowed-”

Regillus shoved him out of the way, his men forcibly moving the guards out of the way with drawn swords. The guard captain’s jaw hung open in shock at the affront committed by the uncouth legionnaire.

“We will not be long,” Regillus stated coolly as he passed.

He pushed open the massive wooden doors. Greased hinges swung inward effortlessly, crashing into the sidewalls with a resounding boom. Regillus took stock of the situation. Much of the assembled court was scattered throughout the audience chamber, turning around in surprise at the sudden noise. At the far end, the governor sat at the head of a U-shaped table, his advisors arrayed to either side. They appeared to be in vehement argument, fists shaking and fingers pointing across the table. While there were guards present, none reacted to Regillus’ entrance. He strode past the colonnades and tables bearing delicacies from the Roman world and beyond.

The hall slowly quieted as the
praefectus
and his men walked through the crowd, the courtiers making way silently. Finally noticing the intruders, the advisors turned to stare at the blood and grime splattered soldiers. The legionnaires stared back at the lavishly garbed council members. Regillus even noticed Air Commander Kretarus from the earlier briefing slouched against a column.

“I come with a message for the council,”
Praefectus
Regillus informed them. “The governor is to evacuate the citadel and leave the defense of the city to myself, Marius Quinctius Regillus, and the Syrian IV.”

One of the council members rose angrily.

“What authority do you have here, legionnaire? Does the legate general believe he can wrest power from us so easily that-”

“The legate general is dead. As is his second in command. As are both wing commanders. I am the last remaining ranking officer, thanks to you, Octavian Tramelis Leftaro, and your imbecilic order to leave the protection of the city walls.”

The governor’s face paled for a moment at the accusation, then returned to a smug look as he swirled the wine in his goblet. The council members looked shocked, several gaping in horror.

“As supreme authority in this province, I am given power over the local defenses,
praefectus
. Although the passing of the general is unfortunate, thank the gods I already have one of my aides at the northern gate to assist in the defenses.
Doux
Hasdrun Pillotai is one of my most capable and veteran staff members. He has the experien-”

Regillus cut him off, raising his voice over the babble of chatter from the chamber.

“-of a donkey,” he finished for the governor. “The
doux
and I have already met. I was unimpressed with his skills. As I said before, I have assumed command of the Syrian IV as described under the Legion Officer Code, Section 4.3A.12. You do not have the right to appoint anyone without the support of the council and the district leadership, which, right now, is myself. And as I have stated, for the duration of the siege, I am in command due to your bungled attempt at armchair generalship.”

A bony-faced man wearing the thick chain links of stewardship rose from his chair. Despite his graying hair, the man’s body betrayed little about his age otherwise. He scratched absentmindedly at his neck as he spoke.

“Are you saying,
praefectus
, that the governor has already tried to place a new general in command of the legion?” Regillus nodded, sensing an opportunity.

“What does it matter, Councilman Ioannes? As long as the gold continues to flow through our ports, why does it matter who is in charge of the legion?” the governor retorted brusquely.

“It matters because I would rather be alive to count my gold than buried with it!” Ioannes shouted back, several other members of the council raising their voices in support.

“I move to confirm Marius Quinctius Regillus promotion to legate general of the Syrian IV, and be charged with the defense of the city.”

“Seconded!”

“All those in favor?” Two, three, four, five hands raised on the council.

“Those opposed?” Three hands shot into the air.

“You cannot do this! I am the governor!” Leftaro interrupted indignantly, his face turning blotchy. “My word is law!”

“No, your lordship,
it is law as recommended and approved by the council
. And the council has approved this by a majority vote. Besides, your honor, do you really think you control anything outside this room at this moment? The Syrian and civic legions hold the city, while the Mongols surround us. No one will answer your orders, and you don’t have the muscle to back up your demands. Take this gracefully and flee the city.”

The governor stood angrily.

“Guards!”

Regillus finally interceded.

“No guards will be necessary. I have requisitioned them all. By now every guard outside of this room is on their way to the walls to assist in defending the citizens of Antioch. We would welcome the help of any of your personal guards. Both legions need all the manpower they can get.”

“I will be the first to volunteer my personal
bucerelli
, my bodyguards,” Ioannes stated, jotting down a note to his servant, who raced out of the chamber.

The governor laughed at him.

“I never thought you for an honorable man, Ioannes. I figured you and your cowardly merchant friends would be the first to turn tail.”

“Actually, Octavian, you are the one I thought would flee first. You always were one to hide behind your friends in a fight.” The governor slammed back his chair and stood.

“You will regret saying that.”

Ioannes smiled at him.

“No, I will not. You are too cowardly to attack me directly, and anything you could do will not beat the Mongols to the punch. Leave here, my
lord
.” He filled the last word with scorn.

The governor glowered angrily, mouth opening and closing like a dying fish.

“Kretarus!” the governor ordered, cocking his finger as though summoning a dog. The air admiral slunk after him, studiously avoiding looking at the new legate general.