Strategos: Born in the Borderlands by Gordon Doherty Page B

rendezvous!’
     
    Strategos . Apion’s ears pricked up at the word. He remembered Father telling him of the select few men who led the armies of Byzantium, the regional themata and the prestigious mobile armies of the central tagmata . Mounted and plumed, they were the thinkers of the army.
     
    The officer turned to his guardsman, nodding. ‘Aye, haste as always, but these citizens deserve a moment of my time first.’ He turned to face Apion. ‘What is your name, lad?’
     
    ‘Apion.’
     
    Cydones nodded. ‘And did you strike that big Rus?’
     
    Apion eyed the officer in suspicion, his throat tightened and he made to point to the roof, then thought better of it. The tension of the encounter ebbed from his veins and his thoughts steadied. ‘I did not, though I wish I had.’
     
    The strategos removed his plumed helmet and wiped his shining bald pate with a rag tucked into his collar. ‘No matter, Vadim’s a good fighter but one who cannot be trusted; he has it coming to him if he’s going to throw his weight around. But Bracchus? All I will say is be on your guard, lad. I won’t always be around to keep him in check.’ As his two guardsmen moved away at a canter, the officer rummaged in his purse and threw down a gold nomisma .
     
    Apion stared at the thin gold coin that had wedged into the dust, stained with drying goat blood.
     
    ‘This is for your goat. I hope it covers you for the loss of milk and cheese.’ He looked at the lifeless corpse of the tiny animal. ‘And I’m sorry this happened.’ He held Apion’s gaze for a few moments, brow wrinkling.
     
    Then he was off, accelerating to a canter and then a gallop, green cloak billowing. Apion watched his dust trail then turned to Maria.
     
    ‘Cydones,’ Maria whispered. ‘Leader of every fighting man in Chaldia.’
     
    ‘Yet he accepts such corruption?’ Apion spat.
     
    ‘Father says he is a good man, but only one man. He can only do so much.’
     
    ‘So providing a few honest men policing the roads is beyond him?’
     
    ‘Father says honest men are only a few coins away from dishonesty.’
     
    ‘You believe that?’
     
    ‘There are many who extort from the Seljuk farmers around here, Apion. Like father says: let them have their coins, so long as we are safe and well every night.’
     
    He turned to her. A tear hung in her eye as she beheld the slaughtered kid and the tortured bleating of its sister and mother tore at his heart. Then a voice split the air.
     
    ‘You should have ridden off with him, Byzantine filth!’
     
    Apion’s eyes shot up at the rooftop again. Nasir stood tall once more, his sling hung from his belt.
     
    Apion searched for a reply, then words tumbled from his lips.
     
    ‘Why would I?’ He roared, stabbing a finger at the ground, realisation washing through him, laced with guilt. He saw Mother and Father’s faces in his mind, and prayed they would understand. ‘This is my home!’
     

     
    ***
     

     
    Mansur steadied himself and then lunged forward, stabbing out. Apion leant back on his crutch and parried, the clack-clack of their wooden poles echoing out across the valley in the still summer air.
     
    As he tired and his scar burned ever more furiously, Apion fuelled his efforts with that shadowy image of the dark door, until a guttural roar poured from his lungs as he lunged forward, putting all the strength of his shoulders into a strike.
     
    Mansur parried then panted, resting on his pole for a moment, holding up one hand. ‘Easy, easy! This was supposed to be about learning self-defence, remember?’
     
    Apion nodded sheepishly. Mansur had been reluctant in agreeing to this, but equally, the old man felt terrible guilt over having left Apion and Maria alone on that day of the visit of Bracchus and Vadim. Apion had sworn that he wanted only skills enough to be able to defend Maria and the animals at the farm, arguing that if Nasir had not been there that day, it could have been far worse