Fall of Empires

Chapter 38

Romanus kept to the shadows as he hurried back towards the safe house. The small and unremarkable property in a narrow street of an unfashionable quarter of the city had seemed the safest place to stay for the time being. It was one of many he had made use of when planning the uprising, its cellar pressed into service for a cache of weapons. It would serve him well again now as a place to lie low until the Persian army had passed on. 

The unexpected return of Shahrbaraz to Antioch had caught Romanus unprepared. He had not thought that the Persian general's army would pass this way again. He had toyed with the idea of fleeing the city but had decided instead to go to ground. It seemed unlikely after all that the general would remain in the city for long.  

All the streets were filled with soldiers. They swarmed on the walls, strolled in the markets and lounged about the fountains in the Forum of Valens. The former prefect had kept his head down as he went about lest anyone he had injured should denounce him as the man who had led the uprising. Since his surrender of the city his life had been vouchsafed by the honour of the garrison commander, although the man always looked at him as though he would like nothing better than to slice his head from his shoulders. He had no doubt that Shahrbaraz would have no qualms about exacting revenge for his attack upon the Persian garrison. 

As he turned into the alleyway leading to his bolt-hole Romanus froze. At the far end of the street a group of swarthy, long haired savages clad in long mail coats and brandishing a fearsome array of battle axes accompanied by a tall Persian officer in glinting armour were questioning a terrified looking Antiochene. Keeping close to the wall Romanus eased his way along the street towards the sanctuary of the safe-house door. As he fumbled with the lock he heard a thud and a squeal as the poor citizen was bodily slammed up against the wall by the largest of the brutes. As the point of a knife was pressed against his throat the man cried out. 

'There! The man you seek is right there. That is the Prefect Romanus.' 

Romanus slammed the door in terror and bolted it with the locking bar. He doubted that it would hold for long. He had counted half a dozen barbarians in the alleyway. The odds were not good. Gripped with panic he fled down the stairs to the basement, tripping in the dark and falling down the last few steps. Turning the key in the lock he fumbled his way inside, his eyes adjusting slowly to the darkness. It would give him a small advantage in defending himself. Groping his way forward he laid his hands upon a heavy wooden table and dragged it towards the door, tipping it on to its side to create a barricade. As he did so he heard the smashing of timber as the barbarians took their axes to the door above. He selected a long, stout spear from the collection leaning against the wall beside him and prepared to repel his attackers. His heart was pounding with terror and sweat ran into his eyes. The spear shaft shook in his hands. Damn them! If he was to die like a rat in a trap he resolved that he would at least take a few of them with him. 

The door gave way with a crash and the rumble of heavy footsteps was loud on the stairs as his pursuers found their way towards the basement. Romanus braced himself and as the first barbarian ran straight into the upturned table in the darkness he lunged forward with the spear, feeling it bite into flesh and hearing the man scream as he gave it a vicious twist before shoving the stricken warrior backwards with all his might to bar the passage of those following. 

The next warrior stumbled upon the body of his fallen comrade and crashed forwards into the table, pushing it back from the doorway. Romanus ran him through the throat with a second spear and was momentarily blinded by the spray of hot blood from the wound. Leaving the man slumped over the table, Romanus frantically wiped the blood and sweat from his eyes as he reached for a third spear. A loud crash of splintering wood heralded the arrival of a giant shadow filling the doorway, axe in hand. Having split the table in two, the barbarian stepped forward and hefted the axe once more. The white teeth of his savage grin and the glint of a single eye were the only features of his face that Romanus could make out. He lunged forward with the third spear and it lodged in the giant's shoulder. Romanus tried desperately to pull it free to strike again but the barbarian grabbed the shaft and wrenched the spear out of his hands with a grunt as the head twisted in the wound. Romanus reached in panic for another weapon but his hand closed on thin air as the axe came down, slicing through his shoulder and onwards, deep into his chest.