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"That's it, you fucking bastards… straight into our trap," I said as I watched a group of Bulgarians maneuver, trying to catch us.
It wasn't a large force. There were many Bulgarian patrols guarding the area because of our presence, since for an entire week I had been moving along the Bulgarian frontier, raiding settlements. Of course, not all of them had the same level of material wealth as our first target. Most had only basic goods: cloth, sheep, cows, pigs—things like that. Just food.
Something similar happened when we found a large stockpile of honey and beeswax, useful for candles and valuable to sell, but beyond that there wasn't much wealth—except for the Bulgarian prisoners we were gathering before sending them to Adrianópolis.
But now we had driven them mad looking for us, especially because we had been very successful in freeing slaves.
"Now," I said, giving the order to my men, who began pulling on ropes to direct the fall of several trees that had already been almost completely cut.
The cracking of splitting wood echoed together with the sound of boots and horse hooves, which halted for a few seconds as a group of large, heavy trees crashed down on them.
Several Bulgarians were practically smashed into the ground when the trunks fell on them.
"Now… now!" I shouted, and several of our crossbowmen and archers rose up and began firing at the confused Bulgarians staring at the chaos around them.
I rose with my axe and a spear in hand, followed by a group of my men, charging the few survivors.
As I ran toward one of the Bulgarians, I braced myself and hurled my spear with all my strength. It embedded itself in his shield, and as soon as I reached him I swung my axe, striking him hard in the head and dropping him immediately.
Another Bulgarian lunged at me with a hand axe. I blocked the blade with the steel-backed, blunt part of my axe. Using the haft and the momentum, I smashed him in the head, and with the same motion swung my axe straight into his chest, hearing his ribs crack from the force.
The Bulgarian fell onto his back, staring at me in terror, and through his armor all I could see were his eyes, wide with panic.
I adjusted my grip on the axe with both hands, and the Bulgarian could only raise his arms, trying to shield his face.
But I glanced to my left and saw one of my mercenaries being held by two men who were trying to drive a dagger into his armpit. I rushed to help, hooking one Bulgarian's leg with my axe and breaking his balance, sending him face-first into the ground.
"Hold him tight!" I shouted.
My mercenary obeyed, wrapping both arms around him and pinning him in place. I swung my axe and struck his back, hearing the Bulgarian scream as I hit him with full force. Then I turned and kicked the face of the other Bulgarian who was trying to get back up.
My mercenary threw the Bulgarian to the ground and grabbed his hands, pulling them toward his neck while holding a dagger, trying to slip past the protection covering his throat.
Before he could rise again, I brought my axe down and split the head of the Bulgarian who was getting up, watching a pool of blood form around his skull after the brutal blow.
Then I drew my dagger and returned to the fight against the last Bulgarian still struggling for his life, and without difficulty drove the blade into his eye to end it.
I began looking around, and almost all Bulgarian resistance had collapsed. Many were surrendering, others fleeing as fast as they could.
I could see some of my own men's bodies on the ground, but most of the fallen were former slaves I had recruited and equipped with poorer gear. In general, they carried only spears, maybe a sword, and very little armor, so it was normal that they were the wounded and dead in these fights, since I used them as the vanguard.
Many of these former slaves fought above all for revenge. Some hoped to find their families in nearby villages; others simply wanted to see the Bulgarians suffer because they had lost everything. And they were the best kind of men to recruit, because their hatred for the Bulgarians was so great that it drove them to fight even without armor, just to buy time for someone else who could actually kill.
Although my forces lacked the years of training that some Bulgarian troops had, the advantage of numbers, terrain, fear, and good tactics worked miracles against enemies who, in theory, should have crushed us. This hundred-man force fell with relative ease, considering that between all my forces we were barely two hundred men.
"FAST—clear the bodies and get to our wounded!" I shouted, looking at my men wearing green, brown, and gray clothing over their armor.
One of our best finds among the freed slaves was a pair of painters who had been forced to work painting for the Bulgarians in a village. I now had them painting for me, helping dye my men's clothing to create camouflage suited to the terrain. It wasn't perfect, of course, but I knew many useful patterns, and so far they had worked well—this wasn't the first ambush we had carried out.
As soon as we secured everything of value from the bodies, we gathered our dead and wounded and got out of there, taking all the Bulgarians who were still alive with us back toward the safety of our camp.
After one or two hours moving through the forests and hills of the region, we returned to our camp, which had grown considerably.
My company of one hundred men had expanded to around two hundred and fifty members, with another similar number awaiting recruitment as I trained them lightly. We also had a retinue of Greeks—more than three thousand people—families of my new recruits, former slaves. And in addition, we now held around eight hundred Bulgarian prisoners, both warriors and civilians.
All of this was sustained by raiding, because the moment I was given authorization to withdraw, I would go to Adrianópolis and sell all the goods.
While Lysander and I were paying out wages, we once again saw a cavalry contingent arrive—this time from the west—passing in front of us, which suggested that the strategos was returning to his usual position after completing whatever mission he had been on.
Once again, he entered the camp, observing everything while nodding.
"Well, if it isn't the best mercenary under my command," the strategos said with a smile, while several of his cataphracts followed him on foot.
"What is it, my strategos…? Here is your payment," I said, looking at him and handing the silver coins to one of my mercenaries before straightening up.
"I heard that you captured a Bulgarian noblewoman—I hope," the strategos said. "Because if it had been the Cumans… oof, that would have been a serious problem. Well, the woman in question is, more precisely, the daughter of a boila and the wife of a zhupan, along with her children," he added, staring at me closely.
"Oh… really? Well, I didn't know that. I think I know who she is—a very weepy woman, honestly. Afraid all the time since I captured her, crying nonstop," I replied.
"Good… I know I can't ask much of a mercenary, Basil, but… was she raped?" the strategos asked.
"No," I shook my head. "That would've been a waste of time when I could keep looking for more treasure. I simply took her prisoner, and no one has touched her. I knew she was important and wasn't sure what to do with her, so I locked her in one of the houses we have—the best one," I said, pointing toward the building where the Bulgarian noblewoman was held.
"Good… that's better. The Bulgarians approached me to negotiate a truce in exchange for returning the noble prisoners you captured. They knew it had been bandits or mercenaries, so I thought it had been my Slavs—but it wasn't. It was between you and the Cumans, and thank the Almighty it was you, because we can put an end to this miserable battle we're losing. The Bulgarians have greater numbers than we do… although from what I can see, you've done quite well with your own numbers," said Strategos Leon.
"Yes. The freed slaves have served well. We've ambushed several Bulgarian patrols that were hunting us. I was surprised there were so many patrols armed at that level, but now it makes sense—I crossed someone far bigger than me," I replied, walking toward the house and unlocking the padlock that kept it closed.
When I opened the door, the Bulgarian woman was there with her two children, clutching them tightly as she looked at us in fear, her face lit by the light coming through the single window.
"Well… she's in good condition. Could be better, but I can't ask more of you. That she wasn't raped or mistreated is the best I can expect from a mercenary. We'll take her—I'll negotiate with the Bulgarian nobles as soon as possible," he said, moving to enter.
I blocked him with my arm and stared at him.
"My contract says Bulgarian warriors. Those are yours, and you pay me according to how their release is negotiated. But it says nothing about capturing civilian non-combatants like her and her children. So—what's my share in this?" I asked flatly.
"Ah… I usually hate your kind of mercenary—the clever ones," the strategos said with a smile. "But I like you, because you're Roman, you speak Greek, and you hate the Bulgarians as much as I do. What do you want in exchange for the prisoners? I'm short on coin. Bulgarian, Slavic, and Cuman mercenaries ate up everything the Emperor sent me to resolve this situation, so I can't offer much."
"You really have nothing to pay me for her?" I asked, genuinely surprised.
"These campaigns aren't cheap—you understand that. Or maybe you don't. Do you think the supplies arriving to you every week are free?" the strategos replied.
"I don't know the details, but I understand prices and logistics, strategos. I've paid out of my own pocket to merchants who come to the camp to feed all the prisoners and the families of freed slaves so they can fight for me," I replied, grimacing as I considered what to ask.
"Land," I said after a moment.
"Land? For what?" the strategos asked, surprised. "Forgive the question, but it caught me off guard. You already have your father's lands within the thema, so you intrigued me. I thought you'd ask for something else."
I turned, spreading my arms and gesturing to the camp.
"I have more than three thousand people who were slaves and have nowhere to go. And I have nearly three hundred men who serve—plus another three hundred ready to fight but still in training before I send them to die. It would be wise for them to have a place to live. And of course, to pay me rent for working the land, and to have a base from which to keep recruiting. There are many young men who in a couple of years would be very eager to march out killing Bulgarians. And I've heard the Thema of Macedonia has expanded greatly lately to increase the troops it can recruit," I said with a broad smile.
The strategos smiled just as widely.
"Never change, Basil. You're a gift from the Almighty. We'll discuss what lands I can give you once we return to Adrianópolis. Now, if you'll excuse me," he said, gripping my shoulder with a grin.
"Please, go ahead. They're your prisoners," I replied, smiling.
The strategos spoke a few words to the woman, who began to smile, and quickly took her away—along with all the Bulgarian prisoners we had, members of the personal retinues of Bulgarian nobles—leaving me with around six hundred Bulgarian prisoners still in my hands.
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If there are spelling mistakes, please let me know.
Leave a comment; support is always appreciated.
I remind you to leave your ideas or what you would like to see.
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