Read Strategos: Born in the Borderlands for Free Online

times when those graves contained fellow Byzantines; the ever more frequent and bloody in-fighting between rival themata was especially repugnant to his ideals yet he had still obeyed orders. He dipped his head to rid himself of the bitter imagery. Then the lady’s other words trickled into his thoughts; find the Haga . Now that was still a mystery to him. A riddle as murky as life itself and one he reckoned he might never solve before the reaper came for him.
     
    Age had come on fast in the last few years for the strategos. Cydones looked over to his tourmarches and wondered if Ferro would be the man to replace him and take on the burden of guilt when he retired gracefully. Or when I end up gurgling on the end of a Seljuk scimitar! He chuckled to himself.
     
    ‘Sir?’ Ferro cocked an eyebrow, mumbling through a piece of salt beef.
     
    ‘Just letting my mind wander,’ he stretched his arms, fatigue enshrouding him. ‘Tell me, Ferro; how many of our lads do you think are officer material?’
     
    ‘Them?’ He jabbed a finger over his shoulder, sweeping across the tattered men behind. ‘What rank? Dekarchos ? Komes?’
     
    Cydones frowned. ‘It doesn’t matter whether it’s a ten or a full bandon, Ferro. Just look at them,’ he lifted a hand to the group of three gangly soldiers who huddled around the fire.
     
    ‘They’re not the bulkiest of lads, true, and maybe a bit too young to be officers?’
     
    ‘None of that really matters, Ferro. What I see when I look at them is fear. They are scared. They need men to lead them, Ferro. Good men.’
     
    Ferro coughed. ‘Well, sir, I think I’m a bloody good fit to that description. Give me a spathion and a good stallion, any number of men behind me. They’ll follow me, I tell you.’
     
    Cydones’ shoulders jostled as a gravelly laugh tumbled from his chest. ‘I know you would, only too well.’ He rubbed the angry scar under his beard. If it wasn’t for Ferro’s counterattack all those years ago in the eastern desert, the Seljuk horde would have slaughtered Cydones and every single one of his men. The tourmarches had spurred his five hundred riders into such frenzy that they had charged nearly four times that number of Seljuk ghulam and spearmen, shattering their ranks like glass.
     
    ‘It’s the fact that you’re a dying breed that worries me, Ferro. You’re never going to be beaten, even on the day when somebody does manage to get a sword under your ribs, but the rest of the men in the ranks these days . . . well, you can see it in their eyes, they don’t believe in what they‘re fighting for anymore.’
     
    ‘For God?’
     
    ‘We all have our ideals,’ Cydones’ brow creased, ‘and I would never question the faith of any of them.’
     
    ‘Then for the Empire?’
     
    ‘Exactly,’ Cydones nodded. ‘The men need to feel like the empire is theirs to fight for, but it is not. The themata were founded on the principles of the old Roman levies; soldier farmers willing to fight and to die to protect their lands. Then our emperor decrees this exemption tax and he has hamstrung his borders with it. I know many men who would have made great soldiers but have taken that option, handing over a few coins to tend their lands and grow fat at home. It is a foolhardy and short-sighted mindset that will lead to not only poverty but destruction and the end of our empire.’
     
    Ferro nodded. ‘And out here in the borderlands we will always go unheard.’
     
    ‘Until it is too late,’ Cydones said. ‘One day our riders will be too few to stave off the Seljuk incursions, there are less than five hundred of us in all Chaldia. A Seljuk invasion is only a matter of time, Ferro. When that day comes, the infantry of the themata will be mustered; they are a far cry from their ancestors, the sons of the legions. Perhaps the emperor will be there to see their impoverished state? I fear that when the sun sets on that day Byzantium will be no