It took another day to reach Trebizond, to the Roman castle descending the slopes in the shadow of Mount Minthrion, and the suburbs always expanding to the east and west along the Euxine shore, the factories churning coal smoke into the sky.
Smoke is the republic’s breath, Herakleia thought. To people in the old world it''s just pollution, poisonous and ugly—and obviously rightfully so—but for us, it means power. It means food on the table. It means you don''t have to worry about raiders stealing your children.
On that morning when the caravan arrived, and when the red and white roses creeping along the walls fronting the streets were starting to bloom, most of the people in the convoy (including Miriai and Za-Ilmaknun) headed straight for the baths, pushing through the crowds which seemed to have already grown—many people among them asking for news from outside. Stable boys within the citadel walls took care of the carriages and horses, unloading the last leftover supplies and helping the old, sick, and weary refugees onto stretchers, before the city’s medical corps carried them to the People’s Hospital. Herakleia was left with Bob the Silent Seljuk Prisoner, whose hands were still tied behind his back, and Jafer El-Hadi, whom she helped out of his carriage.
Word had been sent for a pair of crutches, and Herakleia watched as El-Hadi took these from a medical corpsman and thanked him. That was when El-Hadi found Amina and their toddler, Ibrahim. With tears in her reddened eyes, Amina hugged El-Hadi before he could speak.
“I love you,” she said.
“What happened to your leg, baba?” Ibrahim asked.
El-Hadi hugged him and managed a smile. “Forgive me, but I seem to have lost it.”
“There is nothing to forgive,” Amina said. “You were wounded in combat, defending our new home.” Her eyes fell on Herakleia.
“I’ll be recommending him for the Order of Glory to the assembly,” Herakleia said. “It’s one of our highest honors.”
“One of your highest honors?” Amina stepped away from El-Hadi. “Why is he not getting the highest?”
“Now, darling,” El-Hadi said.
“No, I want to know.” Amina crossed her arms and turned to Herakleia. “Explain it to me.”
Bob the Silent Seljuk Prisoner glanced back and forth in his usual sullen way.
“The highest honors usually go to soldiers who give their lives in battle to save their comrades from certain death,” Herakleia said. “Your husband has helped us a great deal, and we should celebrate that. But he is still alive.” And we still lost one of our own. Ay?e could be dead out there, for all we know.
Before Amina could continue arguing with her, Jamshied the Blacksmith stepped out of the crowd and bowed to El-Hadi.
“Salaam,” he said. “You might not know me, but I’m Jamshied al-Tabrizi, leader of the Union of Blacksmiths, Engineers, and Craftsmen. I have heard about your troubles, your sacrifice, and I have come to measure you for a prosthesis.”
“A peg leg.” El-Hadi glanced at Amina.
“No, sir,” Jamshied said. “Not at all. When we are finished with you, you will ask us to take your other leg as well.”
With El-Hadi’s permission, Jamshied got down on his knees and measured him, noting the information on a wax tablet hung around his neck. El-Hadi was skeptical as he thanked Jamshied, who, when he had finished, rushed off to his blacksmith’s shop. Then El-Hadi, Amina, and Ibrahim left Herakleia and moved through the crowds—already dispersing—back to their apartment. El-Hadi and Amina said nothing to Herakleia, presumably because Amina blamed her for her husband’s disability, while El-Hadi had no desire to further anger his wife. But Ibrahim waved to Herakleia, and even said: “bye, strategos.”
Despite all the stress of the last few days, Herakleia smiled broadly in response, crouched, and said goodbye to Ibrahim. Then Amina pulled her son away without even looking at Herakleia, leaving her in the unenviable position of being alone with Bob the Silent Seljuk Prisoner.
“Wait,” Herakleia said to Amina.
Amina continued moving through the crowd.
“You have every right to be angry.” Herakleia trailed after her, pulling Bob by the rope wrapped around his wrists. “We did everything we could for your husband. He volunteered for the job. No one forced him. And we took care of him when he got hurt—”
“I have a right to be angry,” Amina growled without looking back. “As you said.”
“People think there’s no price for the things we do,” Herakleia said. “If you don’t like it, no one’s forcing you to stay.”
Amina glared at her, even as El-Hadi struggled to keep her away from Herakleia. “Where are we supposed to go? You can’t understand because you don’t have a husband. You don’t even have a family.”
These words stung. Yet Herakleia still managed to say: “You’re my family.” She looked to the faces in the crowd. Everyone had stopped to watch except Bob, who was annoyed and looking away.
Let us always be sisters, Ay?e had said.
“We are not your family,” Amina said. “When you tell us this, it is only further proof that you do not understand. Now go. You’ve already done enough damage.”
They left Herakleia. This time, she didn’t follow.
Could have gone better.
She made her way up through Trebizond to the citadel, doing her best to seem positive and calm, greeting everyone she knew, acting as though she had forgotten Amina’s words, though they kept digging deeper into her consciousness.
I hurt her husband. So now she hurts me. He lost a part of his body. I lose a part of my soul.
Samonas and Hummay were awaiting Herakleia in the citadel courtyard. Nearby amazons were training so hard and with such focus—wrestling, jogging, sparring with swords, loading and firing miniature basiliks, drilling in formation—that they hardly noticed her arrival.
Samonas bowed. “Strategos, welcome—”
“I need a bath.” She walked past him and Hummay. The two men looked at each other, then followed. Neither had time to ask why Herakleia was pulling a Seljuk warrior after her. Bob kept his head down, so neither eunuch saw his face. Besides, they had other concerns.
By then the amazons had noticed her arrival. They all stopped training—breaking their concentration and the rhythm of grunting wrestlers, clanging swords, cracking basilik barrels, and sandals marching in gravel in response to commands—to salute her. But she told them to keep going. They bowed and resumed training.
I am going to die if I don’t take a shower, she thought as she made her way to the citadel bath. Don’t care if the whole world sees me naked.
Multiple layers of sweat, dust, and blood coated her body. Her clothes were torn, and the reek of horse emanating from her flesh almost made her gag. Even the game voice had been warning about the smell subtracting XP from her charisma. Yet Samonas, shuffling after her and Bob, continued his usual babbling, oblivious to the stench. Hummay also kept close, though he wrinkled his nose.
“We have good news, strategos,” Samonas said. “Sinope, Amisos, and Amasea have sent delegations expressing their desire to join the Republic.”
She turned, forgetting the bath. The amazon at the fire tower had mentioned this, but Herakleia had been so busy she had forgotten. These were decent-sized cities, none more than a week’s journey from Trebizond. Sinope was, in fact, Trebizond’s metropolis, or mother city—the source of the Greek colonists who had come here more than a thousand years ago, displacing the Colchian Laz people who were indigenous to this place. It also belonged to Rome. And it was where a ketos had eaten Herakleia and Alexios.
“Are you serious?” Herakleia said.
“You ought to know by now that I’m never not serious, strategos.” Samonas was looking at Bob. “But, um, excuse me, I don’t believe we’ve been introduced. I’m not entirely clear why this fellow is trailing after you, strategos, with his hands bound…”
“His name is Jalal ibn Talib.” Hummay was glaring at the prisoner. “I had not noticed him before. He was keeping his face averted from mine. But I know him. He is one of Chaka Bey’s bodyguards, a dog who would obey any command—no matter how despicable—without question. Thus did he advance quickly through the ranks, slaughtering many innocents along the way.”
Bob—Jalal ibn Talib—spit in front of Hummay, who growled something in Turkish and then lunged toward the prisoner. Herakleia stopped him.
“Fantastic, you already know each other,” she said. “And now we know Bob’s name. Hey, Bob’s your uncle.”
“He is not my uncle,” Hummay said. “What is this you speak of?”
“We captured him in battle. He refused to talk to us.” Herakleia blocked Hummay from punching Ibn Talib.
“Strange that he would be so silent,” Hummay said. “He would always speak ceaselessly of his hatred of women and the poor, his conviction that they are the world’s true oppressors. The Seljuks, as you may know, have little issue with men loving one another in an erotic fashion, but this man was always passionately against such things. He possessed a seemingly obsessive hatred of what he called sodomy. This idea comes from the Bible, though he often complained of Jewish influence in cultural life.”
“See if you can find out where Chaka Bey took Ay?e,” Herakleia said. “That’s what we need to know. The Seljuks took her.”
“The Seljuks captured Ay?e?” Samonas said. “Why, that’s terrible news, just terrible!”
“Don’t hurt him,” Herakleia said to Hummay. “We don’t do that around here, in case you didn’t know. Treat him humanely. Offer him whatever you can think of in exchange for—”
“Forgive me for interrupting, strategos,” Hummay said. “I am sorry to hear the news about Ay?e Khatun. She always treated me well—unlike this cur here, who treated no one well, save his superiors. But there is no need to ask anything of him. Chaka Bey must have brought Ay?e Khatun to Erzurum. That is where his fortress of power lies.”If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.
“Are you sure?” Herakleia said.
“It is his bastion in these lands,” Hummay said.
“And you know this place?” Herakleia said.
Hummay nodded. “I lived and served there many years.”
“Then you’ll guide us there,” Herakleia said. “We need to put a team together to rescue Ay?e, now that we’ve brought the refugees to safety. I need you to gather two volunteer amazons and call the council for a meeting so I can get permission to leave. We’ll also need four—no, five horses, plus supplies.”
“Why are we bringing so few people?” Hummay said.
“I’m not sure anyone else will want to come with us,” Herakleia said. I’m alone. The fewer people we bring along, the fewer people get hurt.
Hummay bowed with his right hand over his chest. “As you command, strategos.”
Samonas looked at Hummay, and then glared at Herakleia. “You will keep Hummay safe, will you not? He is a scribe and a scholar, strategos, not a soldier. He is not to participate in combat.”
“Fair enough,” Herakleia said. “Although he should still bring a sword or some kind of weapon, just in case.”
Hummay nodded to Jalal ibn Talib. “In the mean time, what am I to do with this dog?”
“Should we subject him to the people’s justice?” Herakleia said. “To a people’s tribunal? This town could use a guillotine. Does he even understand Roman?”
“He himself was once Roman,” Hummay said. “He is a Greek convert to Islam, and is far more passionate about following every last little rule concerning the faith than most believers who are born into it. Oft did we suspect he might have been happier as an imam, quoting as he did so relentlessly the Holy Koran, the Traditions of the Prophet (peace be upon him), and even the fatwas of his preferred mullahs—even as he committed monstrous crimes. He understands every word we speak.”
“If we free him, he’ll just rejoin his friends and go back to terrorizing us,” Herakleia said. “But we can’t kill him. We can’t torture him. That goes against the rules of war.”
Hummay laughed. “Rules? What rules? In the game of life, there is no rule save that the strong rule.”
“We have to be better than our oppressors, even as they devastate us,” Herakleia said. “Even as they slaughter entire cities, we will treat our prisoners humanely. We’ll hold onto this one until they ransom him back. Or we can use him in a prisoner exchange.”
“He is a rabid dog,” Hummay said. “Should we allow him to go about unguarded in the city, young girls will disappear. We will find their rotting bodies in ditches weeks after their vanishing—”
“Keep him locked in a cell in the citadel.” Herakleia turned to Ibn Talib. “I don’t know when or even if your people will ransom you. If you want to come out of your cell and behave, you’re welcome to do so. You can take classes, work, make friends, even join us, if you want, so long as you confess to your crimes. Until then, you need to stay inside your cell. Do you understand?”
Jalal ibn Talib responded only by looking away.
“He would kill you if he had the chance,” Hummay said. “Without hesitation or regret. He would happily violate you. He has bragged about it many times. Men, women, children, it did not matter, he liked to rape them before killing them. To burn their crops and houses, to slit their throats, that was not enough—they needed to be doubly, triply dishonored in his eyes. Even the others among Chaka Bey’s band disliked this man and feared him.”
“Nobody’s perfect,” Herakleia said.
“I will bring him to his cell, strategos,” Hummay said. “And arrange for his care. Then I shall begin making preparations for our departure.”
Herakleia thanked him, then left for the citadel bath, taking long quick strides. Samonas limped after her.
“Strategos, forgive me,” he said. “But this rescue team of yours—it’s to consist of only four people? Against the western capital of Great Seljuk?”
“We just need to get in and get out with our friend,” Herakleia said.
“But that’s suicide!”
“We aren’t going to liberate the city,” Herakleia said. “Not yet, anyway. We’re just going to save Ay?e. While we’re gone, I want you to focus on finding more recruits for the army, especially from these new cities that want to join the Republic.”
“Well, the assembly is already ahead of you on that matter, strategos,” Samonas said. “Things are moving quickly. Thousands of new recruits will soon be arriving from Sinope, Amisos, Amasea, Niksar, and Koloneia. We’re also doing our best to ensure that they will be properly equipped by the time they finish training in the coming months.”
She stopped and looked at him. “What are your plans, Samonas?”
He smiled. “Oh, we have some rather exciting plans in the works, if you don’t mind my saying so.”
“Tell me.”
“Why, we intend to march on Konstantinopolis, strategos. Once the Seljuks are taken care of, in any event. It’s to be a combined operation. The army will march up-country, swelling with recruits as it goes, while the city-ship of Kitezh—along with the rest of the navy—will blockade Konstantinopolis by sea.”
Herakleia continued to the baths. “We’ll need more than a few thousand recruits for something like that.”
“Then give me a precise number. How much will we need?”
“You’ll never take Konstantinopolis with less than a hundred thousand soldiers,” Herakleia said.
Before he could react, she entered the baths, peeled off her ragged clothes, and tossed them into the laundry bin, all without caring that Samonas was behind her.
“Merciful God!” He turned away.
“Never seen a naked woman before?" Herakleia poured hot water over herself and scrubbed her skin with olive oil soap. She was unable to keep from groaning at the ecstasy of cleaning the filth from her body, like she was in a shampoo commercial. Yet when she looked down at the tile floor, and saw the dark water swirling into the drain, she thought that some of the blood stuck to her skin must have belonged to El-Hadi, when he had lost his leg, when the arrow had sunk into his flesh, when Ay?e had been taken. Herakleia scrubbed harder.
Samonas, meanwhile, was still babbling, his face averted. “…you know full well that I prefer the company of men. That doesn’t give you license to be completely in the nude in front of me. There is such a thing as professional standards, you know, professional courtesy. I have my modesty to think of.”
Herakleia rolled her eyes. “Sorry, I’ll be more careful next time. Speaking of preferring the company of men, I noticed you’ve been hanging around a lot with Hummay.”
“Pardon me, strategos, but my personal life is none of your concern.”
“He looks like a pretty good catch.”
“Might we change the subject?”
“There’s nothing else juicy to talk about. I missed out on all the gossip in the city for almost a week.” She felt uplifted by conversing with this man. Earlier she had been feeling so alone.
“You’ve certainly returned in a peculiar mood,” Samonas said.
“My emotions are all over the place. I’m just trying to have a chat with an old friend before I go back into the meat grinder. Do you know what I’ve been doing for the last four days?”
“Enlighten me.”
“For ninety-nine percent of the time I was out there, I was either sitting on a carriage or sleeping on the ground.”
“And that last one percent?”
“Fighting to the death.”
“That’s why I stay inside the city walls. Outside is nothing but trouble.”
Herakleia recalled how she had dreamt about getting back here—and how she would soon need to leave again. “Not all of us have the luxury of choosing.”
Samonas, still turned away, fell into silence. Herakleia immediately thought about El-Hadi and Ay?e again. Now she was washing herself harder—scrubbing her flesh so it reddened, raking her hair with soap. Bits of dirt were always left here and there, she could never get them all.
El-Hadi lost his leg. I lost Ay?e.
“Strategos,” Samonas said. “Pardon me, but I think you’re done.”
She looked at him. He was watching her with concern.
Herakleia forced a smile. “Sorry. Haven’t bathed in almost a week.”
He sniffed. “I was not exactly unaware.”
She toweled off, put on a change of clothes, and laced her sandals back up.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather rest in the city for the night, at least?” Samonas was trailing after her as she walked at a brisk pace out of the busy courtyard and into the Middle City. He glanced up at the sun. “It’s nearly noon anyway. You’ll only have a few hours of riding time.”
If we’d left a few hours earlier for Satala, we would have saved Sahakanuysh’s baby.
“Erzurum isn’t far,” Herakleia said. “What is it, four days? Every moment I waste here is another moment Chaka Bey will have to torture Ay?e.”
“Pardon me for asking, but why do you care so much about her? She’s just one person, and there’s a great deal of other business to attend to.”
“It seems like the workers are on top of things. As usual. You’ve also managed to hold things together.”
“I’m just a placeholder, strategos. The workers, you know, they can only tolerate people like me, at best. My own class, the literati, the councilors, we’ve been drinking their blood and sweat for generations—”
“You added how many cities to the Republic while I was gone?”
“Three. And that reminds me—we have decided to construct a Supreme Workers’ Council to house the new delegates, make decisions, and undertake government business. The community hall and the citadel are no longer large enough to perform these functions. We’ll also be needing larger accommodations for the army. Bigger and better everything.”
“Maybe I should just go to Erzurum by myself. Everyone here thinks it was a mistake to take Ay?e in. It’s a decision I made, and I should pay for it. I’m not even sure anyone else will want to join me—”
Samonas seized her arm. “You’ll die if you go alone, of that I’m certain. Why must I keep explaining this to you? Why do you continue to seek to throw your life away? We’re nothing without leaders, just as leaders are nothing without the people. Each is like Antares—deprived of the strength of the Earth—without the other.”
“My namesake picked him up and beat him to death, didn’t he?”
“I’m not joking. Don’t throw your life away. We need you.”
She shook his hand off. “I’ll be careful. Besides, it looks like we might actually be able to end this thing.”
“What are you talking about?”
She continued onward to the Community Hall. “Once we defeat the emperor and destroy the empire, we’re out of here, remember?”
“Ah, yes. You, Kentarch Leandros, and the good mister Gontran Koraki will be wending your way back to this fabled ‘old world’ you so often speak of, leaving the rest of us wretches in the dust.”
“Unfortunately, yes. I can’t say I’m crazy about going back. I barely remember it.”
“Well, who knows?” Samonas said. “Perhaps you’ll have a choice.”
“What do you mean?”
“Maybe you’ll get to stay, if that’s what you prefer.”
“We’ll see,” Herakleia said. “It’s seeming more and more like you guys don’t even need me. I’m just another grunt in the army.”
“Strategos—”
“Right, right, I know, leaders and people, etcetera, etcetera.”
By then they had arrived in the Northeast Gate Community Hall. With so little notice, only a few council members had gathered—including Jamshied the Blacksmith, cross about being pulled away from constructing El-Hadi’s prosthesis—but they still had a quorum. Herakleia was expecting to be alone here, and also thought she would need to order a pair of amazons to come with her. But as she was explaining her plan to the council, Hummay entered the Community Hall with Euphrosyne, Simonis, Miriai, and Za-Ilmaknun—these last four all still gleaming wet from their time in the baths, looking fresh in their clean clothes. The amazons Kata Surameli, Umm Musharrafa, Amat al-Aziz, Nazar al-Sabiyya, and Jiajak Jaqeli rushed in soon after, asking if they were too late. Herakleia was so shocked at the sight of them she felt tears burning her eyes, and wiped them away. All her companions by then had sat down on empty benches and were watching her.
“I thought,” she began. “I thought you were all tired of me. You don’t need to—”
“Don’t even try to argue,” Miriai said. “We’re coming with you, dear.”
The council—wanting to get back to work as quickly as possible—soon approved the mission. Samonas was confirmed as temporary Doux of Trebizond, and instructed to continue adopting a defensive posture: the city would send out patrols, keep establishing signal towers along the imperial highway, and likewise resume gathering all necessary resources, storing grain behind the walls, constructing additional rainwater cisterns, and training as many soldiers as possible. At Herakleia’s request, Jafer El-Hadi would also receive the Order of Glory for his sacrifice in battle, and would be granted a veteran’s pension.
Within a few hours, the band of amazons—plus Miriai, Hummay, and Za-Ilmaknun—had found fresh horses, weapons, armor, and supplies. They galloped out of the city to rescue Ay?e from Chaka Bey in Erzurum. Trebizond’s workers and peasants cheered them as they rode out through the Northeast Gate, through the Daphnous suburbs, across the Mill River Bridge, and along the imperial road through the Zagnos Valley, to the Satala Way.