IdeasGuy
patreon
Legends Never Die: The Art of Misdirection (ch. 63)
🕑 Added 2024-01-03 16:08:28 +0000 UTCBy the end of the first week, most of the pirates had spilled their guts about everything they knew. The crew might not have a complete picture of everything, but there were few places more difficult to keep a secret than on a ship at sea. Eventually, someone would see or hear something. When the first few broke, it urged the others to because, if they didn't, the information that they had would be worthless.
In the end, the pirates were a greedy lot. They had no real loyalty toward one another. That was the biggest difference between us, even if our actions seemed similar. When my people raided, we sought to enrich ourselves and our home. There would be fights and even attempts of theft, but at the end of the day, we all had a village or town that we would return to. And we knew that if our bowls were empty, we could lean on our neighbors to share what they could. A pirate crew, when it came down to it, was a crew of strangers from all walks of life that shared the goal of getting rich, for whatever the reasoning.
Out of the two hundred odd people we had tied up to cook in the sun, by the second week, there were only a dozen that had the will to refuse to share what they knew. Of that dozen, most were refusing to say anything out of sheer stubbornness. But, they proved regretful because by the end of the third week, all but one of them detailed everything that they knew.
And they knew a great deal. It was more or less what I had anticipated -- the pirates had backers. It was to be expected. Ships were costly and precious few dedicated themselves to piracy. Even my people were primarily farmers and herders before we were raiders. Most fishermen, if they had large enough of a boat, might engage in piracy if they saw the opportunity, or they were in lean times. A dedicated pirate, however, needed either absurd luck or information to be wealthy. They needed to know what ships were worth taking, how much resistance to expect, and the only way to reliably get that information was having someone with connections telling them.
Which revealed a complicated web on the southern coast of Anatolia.
More than a few confessed to having dealings with people within Tatzates’s Theme, but not with Strategos Tatzates himself. That wasn't surprising -- it took a special kind of idiot to put your name on such an illicit deal. Like Lord Mimir. We couldn't say for certain, but it painted the picture that Tatzates was filling the Mediterranean with pirates to plague Michael Lachanodrakon. But, he was hardly the only one. The pirates had been pretty free with their services, connecting themselves to a half dozen minor lords and merchants. Half the pirates we captured claimed to be merchants.
A month later, there was only one captain that was refusing to speak. And, as I approached, the sand shifting underfoot, bloodshot eyes meeting mine… I found that he was no closer to giving in. “You're a stubborn one,” I commended him, staying upwind of Zafir. The man had been tied to a post for a month, kept alive by food and water being shoved down his gullet.
His skin was blackened, large scabs peeling and bleeding from the sun overhead. It was a cool day despite winter being in full swing. We wouldn't even see snow, it seemed -- which was a rather startling prospect. I thought the winter in Francia had been mild, but this place confused winter with Spring. Zafir hung limply, his wrists rubbed raw from his attempts to escape. He almost got out once, but he overestimated how much strength he would have after being tied down for a week.
“You… speak… Arabic…?” Zafir gasped out, his gaze drawn to the waterskin in my hand. At least, that's what I thought he said.
“A little,” I answered in accented Arabic. Alim had proven to be a decent tutor, with his weakness being his age. He couldn't really explain how the rules of the language worked because he never really thought about the rules. As far as I could tell, he seemed blessed with the Polyglotboon. Already, he was picking up Norse and Frankish just from wandering around the camp. Though, he occasionally struggled to tell the languages apart. “Enough to get your answers,” I told him, taking a breath and bringing the waterskin to him.
Zafir drank deeply despite himself. I could tell he fully intended to die on the post, to waste away, but it was a difficult thing to refuse water when you were dying of thirst. That didn't stop him from gathering some in his mouth to spit it at me. I didn't blink as he did so, beyond wiping my face. I should be angered by the disrespect -- but, instead, I found myself admiring his tenacity.
“They must be someone great to inspire such loyalty in you,” I replied, turning to face the view that Zafir had been enjoying the past month. And, in that month, a great deal had changed. The ramshackle appearance had faded away to become a proper settlement.
The docks were finished with two long piers and two short ones. The harbor itself was protected by two towers at the mouth of it, with the chain on its way thanks to my blacksmiths. A palisade and gate protected the inner harbor, while on the other side of the palisade were Norse buildings, more than a few of them simply the hulls of the pirate ships converted into a building. The stone from the forgotten villa had been salvaged and transported to the base of the hill where a gate was under construction. It would be a fallback area with a winding road that led to the top of the cliff, where the longhouse was located.
They were still rough, but in time, they would be fully realized.
“You… waste time. Kill me,” Zafir said, his head slumping down. True Vision marked him red. That was my doing, I understood -- prior to this, he had been marked gray. And it was more than fair. I would certainly be an enemy of someone that had tied me to a pole for the better part of a month. “I… not break.”
“I believe you,” I told him, making him weakly look my way. “If you were, you would have done so already. By now, you're committed to wasting away here, taking whatever secrets that you have with you.”
Understandably, Zafir was less than happy to hear that. “Then you torment me for your own amusement? Why?”
“I don't know what you're hiding, but you've impressed me with your fortitude,” I admitted easily. “And while I am curious to know what secrets you hold, it would be an injustice to take more… active measures to pry them from you.” There were a few that had suggested that, but I remained unconvinced of the quality of information I would glean from it. Simply put -- if I had been captured and tortured for information, and I knew a pivotal battle for my captor would soon come that my information could affect the outcome of…
I would lie.
Torture did have its uses, but it wasn't the right tool for every situation. The only reason I used it at all was because we had a surplus of captives that could verify any information that we were given. If only one person said something, then it was likely a lie, but if two or more people confirmed the information? Then it was likely true.
“There is an attack coming. These so-called pirates certainly have a vast number of friends,” I continued to speak, my tone idle and even. I saw the others in the still unnamed settlement, all of them making preparations. Yule was upon us once again. Timber was expensive to purchase, so I had some men sail to Anatolia to fell some trees and bring them back. A simple task since they could simply float the trunks in the water behind them. A bonfire was being built, decorations were put up. We were lacking womenfolk, but there were enough camp followers to get the job done, even if the menfolk were forced to lend a helping hand.
That caught Zafir's interest, “An… attack?” He questioned, not even bothering to keep the hope out of his voice.
I grunted a confirmation. “The Abbasids prepared for a siege for a time, but as of late, more ships have been sailing to their port. We sailed to the direction they're coming from and found a fleet gathering.” I continued, an edge entering my voice. We had poked the Abbasids on the island, picking off a ship here or there. There had even been a few skirmishes between our scouts. The prisoners that had been captured knew little about the overall picture, but they conveyed their point of view easily enough.
The Caliph was not happy that the Romans were building a stronghold on Crete. His orders were to wipe us away to show the Romans that they did not control the island.
It was the prelude to war.
“We don't have an estimation for their arrival, but it shouldn't be long. Another month, maybe,” I concluded. The fleet was a sizable one. The Muslim pirates numbers had been significantly inflated, going from seventy to eighty ships to nearly two hundred. The Abbasid were only playing lip service to the idea that they were just pirates, fully aware that everyone would know it was one of their fleets, but maintaining the thinnest of veneers for deniability. “You will fight with them.”
I could see that Zafir was confused. “What?” He croaked, not understanding.
“You deserve a warrior's death for your loyalty. Today will be your last day on the pole. You will rest and recover, and when the Abbasids arrive, you will be given arms and armor. I will try to give you over to them so you can fight with your fellows, but I can make no promises,” I told him and I could see that he was still perplexed. It would be a shame to kill such a man, but if he was stubborn enough to endure this much, then there was little point in offering a hand to join us. Even if I did, I would be genuinely shocked if he accepted. I certainly wouldn't.
“Why?” He croaked, still not believing it.
“My gods look favorably on the brave,” I answered simply.
“There… are no gods. Only Allah,” he muttered, earning a sigh from me.
“So you people keep telling me. A lie you repeat will become no closer to the truth, even if you wish it too,” I told him. However, now was not the time for a religious debate. “Soon, we shall celebrate Yule to welcome the spring and honor the gods for a generous year. If you weren't so stubborn, you could join the festivities.”
I watched him carefully with my expanded vision, his face unguarded when he thought I couldn't see him. The whites of his eyes were bloodshot, but his gaze was sharp. He was memorizing every word that I said. So, I continued. “We will make sacrifices to them. The thralls will be allowed to participate. We shall feast and drink and make merry.” It was necessary for a number of reasons-- we had to honor the gods.
But, it was also important to take time to unwind. For a month, we had been rapidly building a settlement, doing hard labor, and a celebration would be an opportunity to let everyone unwind. The thralls included.
“You won't tempt me,” Zafir rasped and I swallowed a smile.
“Hm. Could you say that in another two weeks, if you had to?” I asked him, my voice casual.
“I can endure as long as is needed,” Zafir rellied stiffly.
“I wonder about that…? Ah, well, it won't be needed. You will be released by nightfall. To give you a little more time to consider,” I told him before I began to walk away. Undoubtedly, he would consider the information a taunt, but I had no expectation that the bridge between us could be mended at this point. We would part as enemies. As I left him, I could feel his gaze on my back as I swallowed a small smile.
The next month or so would be telling. What would he do with his freedom? Would he try to escape? Would he attempt to kill me in my sleep? Or would he wait for the invading force to wipe this settlement off the island? Only time would tell, and time was something that was in rather short supply.
The Abbasids were coming and they were coming in numbers. If the fleet that we saw off the coast in Abbasid waters was going to be pointed towards us, we would be facing near four hundred ships. My fleet was less than a hundred, meaning that fighting them at sea would be a foolish endeavor. The best course of action was to let them land, but they would be fools to attack such an entrenched position. The far wiser course would be for them to settle in for a siege.
Something I couldn't allow because of my oath to Thorkel. I had sworn to him that there would never be a siege so long as he followed me, and I had already come too close to breaking that oath when we wintered in Frankfurt, surrounded by a Frank army.
“Myself and a few ships,” I planned as my feet carried me into the settlement. To my scouts. Longships were faster than the Muslim ships nearly twice over. A handful of archers would fire upon the Abbasids, while I attacked the ships themselves. The men that joined me were certain to die, but in theory, I could leap from ship to ship, thinning the numbers.
But, I doubted that I could halt the attack entirely. They would land on Crete, and a sortie would be needed to crush them as they disembarked. With that, we could damage their numbers or fleet enough that we could take them.
The simulation marked a few locations as likely touch down points, but it was dangerous to rely on that information. The enemy could think better of it, or pick a less than ideal point to disembark if they feared an attack.
The situation was tricky. I was considering simply abandoning the settlement altogether when I received news that the forces would be far greater than I anticipated. If it was just the pirates, it would be simple, but two combined fleets? That would be a tall task in open waters.
“Subterfuge, how unlike you,” Morrigan remarked from above, leaning over the edge of the palisade. There was a teasing smile at her lips that only grew when I scowled. “T'is not an insult, Siegfried. I'm rather pleased with you. I had not thought you capable of it.” The fact that she was pleased was a balm to my frayed nerves, but it was still a sore point.
Yule was a month from now. Not two weeks.
I had lied to Zafir.
“If we cannot control the battlefield, then we must control the initiative,” I said, passing through the gate while Morrigan walked down to join me. “You are certain that Alim will help him escape?” I asked as Morrigan fell in step with me. I walked amongst the settlement and I found myself comparing it to Constantinople. Rather unfavorably. It was inevitable -- it was a rushed job, and we lacked materials, but when I imagined the settlement in my head, I pictured marble roads and stone buildings.
“They share a bond of loyalty. T'is not much different than the one you share with Thorkel,” Morrigan answered. And that had been of interest to me. I asked Alim about it, but he had few answers to give. I understood Alim being loyal to Zafir, but Zafir loyal to Alim? That had a story behind it and I was certain it had something to do with why Zafir had managed to last so long on the pole. I wanted to know, but not so interested that I would pay any cost. Odin would be ashamed, but I would reign in my curiosity.
“I'll have the guards give him an opportunity and ensure that they get out,” I said, taking her word for it. She had yet to be wrong so far, I thought as we passed by a few hanged men. Thralls that had been planning a revolt. Morrigan caught it before they could take action. There were others brewing, of course -- it was only natural. However, they would be nipped in the bud. We had enough issues to deal with. “With some luck, we can tempt the Abbasids into attacking before they're ready.”
Hannibal taught me this lesson. My studies had not fallen to the wayside, even with everything that had transpired. I was steadily working through the scrolls that were given to me by Alexios, though I would admit that I had been favoring the generals too much. It was likely why I hadn't gained a learning perk even with my studies.
Hannibal was a general that had brought a fledgling Roman Empire to its knees. He was only defeated by lack of support from his homeland. If he’d had it, then there very well might not have been a Roman Empire at all. There were many lessons to be found in his battles with the Romans -- the value of unexpected approaches, knowing your enemy…
But above them all was the lesson of knowing how to make the enemy do what you wish them to. The Battle of Cannae transpired a thousand of years ago, and I was convinced there were few battles that could be greater. He tempted the Romans to commit an attack at his weak center, and when they did, he had the center pull back, funneling them into position. The gaps were plugged with reserved soldiers, before the Romans were attacked from behind, completely surrounding them. It had been a crushing defeat for the Romans, even though they outnumbered Hannibal three to one.
This was not the same, but the principle still applied. If I could bait the Abbasids into attacking where I wished and disembarking where I wanted, then I could crush them.
“Hm. Luck seems to be a thing in short supply,” Morrigan remarked as we made our way to the longhouse at the top of the cliff. It was not a grand building. In truth, Horrik's was greater. That would change soon, I resolved. I just needed to get out of this mess before I could focus on building. “It would be prudent to allow a few others to escape with them. To lend credence to the tale.”
I nodded as we stepped through the doors, entering my hall. While it wasn't all that I wanted it to be, I was proud of it. It was my longhouse. My hall. A few years ago, I had only seen my farm and village and was convinced there was nothing greater in the world.
As we entered, I saw a handful of people. My attention was first drawn to Astrid, who looked like she had completely retreated into her own mind with a vacant stare as she sat on a throne next to mine. My gaze dipped to her stomach, as in the past month she had started to show -- her belly was a little rounder with our child. It would be many more months until they entered the world, but Morrigan said we could expect a child born in summer.
Sitting at a lower elevation was Jill. Unlike Astrid, her gaze was focused and sharp, sitting upright, as she listened to the petition. Her gaze flickered to us for but a moment, leading the petitioners to and the four Greek men turned to us.
Messengers from Lord Mimir, if I had to guess. I could see the anger in their eyes as I walked by them, heading to my throne with Morrigan by my side, and sitting heavily in it. It was a comfortable chair stacked heavy with fine pelts. We anticipated winter being far harsher, which left us with a surplus.
“There has been a delay, Lord Siegfried,” Jill informed in Norse, and the Greek men wilted ever so slightly when they heard my name. Which was likely why Jill said it. “The shipment of stone and wood has been halted at the docks due to fear of piracy.”
Chares. The fat merchant had taken to needling us in whatever way he could. Only now he was playing a dangerous game.
“A fascinating excuse considering the sea is clearer of pirates than it has been in the better part of a century,” I remarked, and it was only when I spoke that Astrid blinked and registered my presence.
“When did you get here?” Astrid wondered, looking faintly disturbed, as if I had materialized from thin air. I saw Jill's lips twitch, but she swallowed the smile. Astrid was my first wife, and, as a result, she was expected to attend these meetings. However, it was clear that she enjoyed them even less than I did. The only one who seemed to enjoy them at all was Jill, which is why we both relied on her even hand.
“The excuse is a thin one. I suspect that Lord Mimir is testing the leash we put around his neck,” Jill informed, her tone aloof. By we, she meant herself. And by leash, she meant vice. And by neck. She meant balls. I sent Jill to get a hold over Lord Mimir, and based on the tale I heard from Athrun, she had the man twisted into knots and bending over backwards. The man had apparently been on the verge of tears by the time Jill had finished. I had yet to meet the man myself, but what I knew of him didn't impress.
The man was a coward. Worse, he was a stupid one. Not meeting him didn't lessen my dislike for him, even if he was convenient.
“I'll defer to your judgment on what should be done, but this does sound like an opportunity to punish Chares,” I remarked, keeping an eye on the men with my expanded vision. They watched the exchange carefully, not understanding our words but trying to read out body language and tone. Chares was withholding ships on behalf of a lord. A fat, lazy, and stupid one, but a lord all the same.
“What we can do with it is minimal,” Jill answered, a soft sigh in her voice. “Lord Mimir is unimportant and far removed from the realm's politics. He has some connections worth exploring, but until the attack passes, most seem to be of the opinion that he will die in the fighting. Or, at least lose his holdings.” Jill explained, and while that was disappointing to hear, I wasn't surprised. For the most part, Mimir was simply a tool to step around the ban of sale to us.
Through him, we were able to purchase goods such as building materials and food. We simply gave him the money, using his people as intermediaries, and had the supplies delivered to us. It had worked rather smoothly until now -- which meant that Chares had wised up to what we were doing. And, so far, Michalis hadn't gained enough influence to circumvent Chares on his own.
Jill turned to the petitioners, and I saw one of them swallow thickly, all of them looking at me even as Jill spoke in accented Greek. “We understand Lord Mimir's difficulties. Please give him our deepest sympathies. Perhaps, in time, we can venture to his home and take care of the issue for him as servants to the crown.”
The petitioners paled dramatically, launching into a flurry of polite speech to tell us to stay away. I saw what Jill was doing -- goading Mimir into taking care of the problem himself with the threat that we would make our problem his problem.
As I watched the two of them go at it, I leaned into my throne. This was exactly how it was supposed to be, I decided.
The calm before the storm.
Comments
Austin Perkins
I like the build up. Always nice. But now we bring blood for the blood king! Skulls for the skull throne!
Hector Gregorio
warrrrrr killl expeeeee
