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Anno Domini 829, April-21
The battle had begun long ago and only recently had the themata of the right flank entered combat. But like the center, they were only maintaining pressure, yielding ground in a controlled manner, while the left flank was tearing the Bulgarians apart. Our casualties in the center and on the right were minimal, since all the heavy fighting was concentrated on the left flank, where my veterans were locked in a deadly struggle with the khan's army.
I had no idea how the edges of this war would end once these battles were over. The negotiation would probably be handled by Theophilos or some trained diplomat from the capital, but at the very least I had to make sure the Bulgarians could not rise again as a regional power over the Slavs.
For that reason all our effort was focused on destroying the Bulgarian center and right flank, where the forces loyal to the khan and the culturally Bulgarian clans were positioned, leaving the Slavic tribes of the region more intact. If by divine grace Omurtag was inside Pliska and died during the assault, the Bulgarian central power would shatter and the Slavic tribes would likely begin to scatter north of the Danube, where, depending on our victory, many possibilities could open.
At last my plan was taking effect. I watched as a massive group of cataphracts began to gallop toward the Bulgarian center.
Several hundred cataphracts rode straight at the heart of the Bulgarian lines. I remained fixed on the charge, following every banner, every cloud of dust raised by their hooves.
"Give the order to the cavalry on the right flank to begin the attack. Let them support the center and kill as many as possible," I said to one of the tourmarches beside me. He quickly dispatched a messenger to carry my instructions.
The Bulgarian center received the cavalry's impact like a wall splitting under a battering ram. Lances drove deep, shields were hurled into the air, and the first ranks were trampled. As soon as it happened, I began to see sections of the center breaking apart. Several groups were trapped between our cataphracts and the infantry advancing behind them, and panic spread like fire through dry grass.
Within minutes the center began to disintegrate.
"Let the center charge. No more defensive fighting. Hunt those Bulgarian dogs down," I ordered.
The nearest tourmarches relayed the command through the trumpeter, and the change was immediate. Our lines, which until then had been holding, began to push forward with violence. Gaps opened in the enemy formation, and every crack became a killing ground where men fought to the death.
The cavalry I had sent poured through the breaches, cutting between clusters where my men were still fighting hand to hand. From my position I watched the riders lift their swords and bring them down again and again upon those fleeing in disorder, like sickles through ripe wheat.
The field began to fill with Bulgarian bodies as they tried to withdraw.
On the Bulgarian left flank their commander attempted to organize an orderly retreat to avoid annihilation by cavalry. His troops fell back step by step, shielding themselves, trying to maintain cohesion. The tribal levies did not share that discipline. Many Slavic warriors began to run on their own, breaking formation and leaving dangerous gaps as they tried to escape the relentless pressure of the themata, which kept twisting the enemy line further and further.
They had no cavalry bearing down on them, which meant many might escape much of the damage we could have inflicted, since my eyes were fixed on the best equipped troops, those most loyal to their khan.
As I watched the battle slowly turn into a massacre, I noticed that nearly all the Bulgarians were now fleeing in disorder. My men pursued them with fury, and the Bulgarian cavalry had already abandoned the field, leaving the rest of their forces to their fate, now hunted without mercy.
The destruction was most evident on the Bulgarian right flank. From my position I could see heaps of bodies scattered across the ground; my veterans had clearly crushed them. I could not distinguish our own losses from that distance, but I trusted that the heavy armor had reduced the number of dead. Each of those men was valuable, forged by years of training and equipped at great expense.
A rider appeared galloping along our rear. The way he leaned over his horse told me he did not bring good news.
"My strategos, the Bulgarians are making a sortie and we do not have the numbers to stop them. We need reinforcements immediately. There are too many," he said, nearly breathless.
"It was to be expected. Send reinforcements as quickly as possible. I will go with what I have to contain the breakout for now, but send as much cavalry as you can so they arrive swiftly," I replied as I spurred my horse toward the siege camp.
We arrived quickly. The fighting was savage. The themata troops I had left behind, together with several Varangians, were doing everything they could to contain the advance of better equipped Bulgarian forces. Their discipline and equipment made it clear they were personal troops of the khan or of some powerful noble.
If they reached the siege engines and burned the trebuchets, we would lose weeks of work.
We rode almost into the line of combat and dismounted to join the fight. From there I saw scorpions and catapults being used at close range to slow the enemy concentration, hurling projectiles even over our own retreating troops if that was what it took to halt their momentum.
I sent my Varangians to seal the breach. The poor themata soldiers, the worst armed in the army, had been resisting the finest forces of the Bulgarian Empire. It was almost a tragedy to see them endure for so long against enemies superior in equipment and training.
The arrival of my hird changed the tone of the fighting. My men hurled themselves against the heavily armored Bulgarians and pinned them inside the last trench protecting the camp. There, in that narrow corridor, the clash became brutal.
"Send orders to the other camps. It seems we have most of the Bulgarians here. Let them concentrate on the sector where the walls have fallen and try to seize control of the outer ramparts. Reinforcements should arrive soon" I ordered as I watched my hird push forward.
The impact was savage. Bulgarian swords and axes struck the cuirasses of my Varangians, but most of the blows were absorbed by steel. My men answered with their polehammers, crushing helms and shattering bones. The narrow passage before the trench filled with bodies.
"Thank the Almighty more of those Varangoi arrived" said a themata soldier as he bound his arm, blood seeping from a sword cut.
"Was there only one camp with Varangians. Did they come to help" I asked.
"A man arrived. He was enormous. He held the Bulgarians back alone for a long time. We killed dozens while he stood there" he replied with difficulty.
"It must have been the jarl. If I am not mistaken he stands over two meters tall. A giant" I murmured as I turned my gaze back to the fighting.
Soon riders began arriving at full speed. My subordinates had managed to bring reinforcements from the main front.
"Some of you to the breach. To the breach. Do not let the Bulgarians return to their walls in peace" I shouted, pointing toward the collapsed section of the wall.
The battle went on and more reinforcements kept arriving to sustain the struggle. At last the Bulgarian troops began to fall back toward the fortress. From my position I saw that the forces I had sent to the breach had already entered.
The Bulgarians yielded ground as they retreated into the city and my men followed close behind. Some enemies had fallen into the trenches. When they dropped into those deep pits they screamed for help, but almost none managed to climb out.
We quickly recovered the sector they had taken from us. The ground was covered with the bodies of themata soldiers who had resisted with unexpected firmness to keep the camps secure.
Advancing farther we found the place where the Varangian jarl had fought. The area was strewn with Bulgarian corpses. Among them lay the massive lifeless body of the Varangian himself.
"Push. Push. Do not let them close the gate" I shouted to the men who kept pressing forward.
Something unexpected happened. The Bulgarians tried to shut the gates in our faces, but the mechanism was not a portcullis. They had to close them by hand before securing the bolts. Those outside pushed desperately to get in while those inside tried to shut them. In the chaos no one coordinated anything.
The gate remained completely open.
My forces were already fighting inside the city. There were few defenders at the breach and they managed to break through quickly, especially when thousands of men coming from the battlefield joined the assault.
Without hesitation we drove inward. We entered through the gates like a released tide.
Within minutes all the forces that had been slaughtering Bulgarians outside the walls were inside. The sortie had ended in disaster for them.
The streets began to fill with blood. Many Bulgarian soldiers were trapped in the alleys when our troops flanked them from the breach. Others failed to reach the inner walls of the fortress and were surrounded and cut down in groups.
Soon the fighting blended with the sack. I gave only one clear order: spare the Greek slaves found in the city. Beyond that I did not restrain the fury.
It was the enemy capital. It had to be destroyed. Selling the population into slavery or killing them would send a clear message to any future Bulgarian lord who dared rise against the Empire.
During the afternoon, as screams echoed through the plundered city, I set about demolishing buildings near the walls of the khan's palace so we could bring siege machinery inside and organize the few Greek slaves who remained.
Night fell and the sack continued. Buildings collapsed, smoke rose above the walls and we began moving the trebuchets into the city to begin the siege of the central fortress.
The day had been a complete success. Late into the night the rest of the cavalry returned after pursuing for hours the Bulgarians who had fled the field. Tens of thousands lay dead across the plains.
With the fighting over I organized the recovery of the bodies. I ordered the priests to prepare the fallen Greeks to be sent back to their native themata. I had trees cut down to raise funeral pyres for the Varangians. Soon they would begin their rites so that their souls might be carried away by the Valkyries.
In my tent my men brought me the treasures captured from the Bulgarian camp: numerous silver coins and some gold, likely the soldiers' pay. Added to the plunder of the city I now held a small fortune in my hands. I intended to use part of that gold to honor the Varangian pyres and compensate the families of the fallen Greeks.
Late at night, while I rested beneath the roof of a house near the walls and watched the shadows cast by the fires across the ramparts, observing the guards who looked out over everything that had happened, a messenger arrived.
The Bulgarians were offering terms to end the siege.
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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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