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over the other side. The barbarians, screaming in triumph, pounded after them, baying for blood.
    Upon reaching the hilltop, the enemy saw the Immortals galloping down the far slope toward a loop of the river. Eager to catch the horsemen as they floundered through the ford, the barbarians flew after the retreating troops, shrieking in triumph.
    Down and down they came, streaming headlong into the valley, racing for the river. As the first barbarians reached the fording place, however, ten thousand foot soldiers suddenly appeared on either flank. Hidden in the rushes at the water’s edge, the imperial infantry rose up with a shout. At the same instant, the Immortals turned their horses and started back, throwing the barbarians into a howling panic.
    Desperate now to retake the high ground lest they find themselves pinched between the two opposing forces, the foemen turned and fled back the way they had come.
    It was then that the Cuman mercenaries appeared on the hilltop behind them: an entire barbarian nation, thirty thousand strong, and each and every one of them nursing a long-standing hatred of their Pecheneg and Bogomil neighbors.
    The trap was sprung, and the slaughter commenced.
    Alexius, confident of the outcome, withdrew from the battle. Summoning his Varangian bodyguard, he charged Dalassenus to bring word as soon as victory was complete, then rode at once to his tent.
    That was where the Grand Drungarius found the emperor, bathed, shaved, dressed in his clean robes, dictating a letter to the Magister Praepositus, who was taking Alexius’ words and inscribing them on a wax tablet.
    â€œAh, Dalassenus! Enter!” he called as the young man appeared behind Gerontius. He waved the chief scribe away, saying, “That is all—bring it to me to sign as soon as you are finished. It will be sent immediately.” The scribe bowed once and withdrew. “Well? Tell me, how did the battle end?”
    â€œAs you predicted, basileus,” answered the commander.
    â€œIndeed?”
    â€œDown to the last detail. The Cuman auxiliary were merciless. Once they had the scent of blood in their nostrils, we had no need to engage the Immortals. We merely stood by to prevent the survivors escaping into the hills.” He paused, and added, “There were no survivors.”
    â€œGerontius, did you hear?” called the emperor. “Our victory is absolute! Pour the wine! Dalassenus and I will drink to the triumph.”
    The elderly magister bent to the table, and turned a moment later bearing golden cups. The emperor lofted one of the cups and said, “All praise to God, who has delivered our enemies into our hands, and driven them into the dust of death!”
    â€œAll praise to God,” the Grand Drungarius answered.
    They drank together and Alexius, laying aside his cup quickly, said, “See here, Dalassenus. I have already sent messengers back to the city. The ships will be ready to sail upon your arrival. It is a cruel thing to dispatch a man fresh from the battlefield, I know. But you will have a good few days’ rest aboard ship.”
    The young commander nodded. “It is no hardship, basileus, I assure you.”
    â€œIt is not that I do not trust the Logothete or the Syneculla,” Alexius continued. “Indeed, they will go with you. But this is primarily a military matter, and the Patriarch of Rome must know the importance I place on the victory we have achievedtoday, and how much I value his aid. Now that the northern border is secure, we can turn our attention to the south and east.”
    The emperor began pacing back and forth, clenching his fists. “We can begin taking back the lands the Arabs have stolen. At long last, all we have worked for is within our grasp. Think of it, Dalassenus!”
    Alexius stopped, regaining control of his free-racing hopes. “Alas, the army is not ready to meet the challenge.”
    â€œYour troops fight well, basileus,”