Daggers in the Dark (Book 3 of Hanthalah)

Chapter 19

I dismounted, panting, my blade resting on one shoulder, my face covered with the tail of my turban. I scooped over and plucked a silver cross pendant off a corpse's neck. I raised my head and surveyed the scene sprawled out before me.

It was another day on our lightning quick raid of this island. Corpses were strewn either face-first in the mud or in misshapen ways. Their fatal wounds were gruesome; they were sights I had long since become accustomed to. I reveled in the carnage, even. There were pools of blood as far as the eye could see, the odd entrail leaking out of a man's belly, bits of brain and gore complimenting the marvelous image of triumph, frozen in a state of calm – a remarkable contrast from the deafening screams, roars and clinging of steel that had been echoing through the streets of this small town only minutes before.

Now, the meagre Roman garrison situated here were already made short work of and my boys had seen fit to plunder any home or stout pillared building they pleased. Many of the latter were now reduced to blackened hulks, scorched to their very foundations in what was a scrupulous razing of this pitiful place. Dark clouds of smoke lingered heavy overhead, casting long shadows upon us. More smoke curled upward to add to the gloom.

My boys were taking humans, cattle, hordes of treasures buried deep underneath the soil. In the monasteries, there were riches unfathomable. The pagan sanctuaries of old did not compare to this splendor, and certainly not the new temples of the Muslims they called mosques.

I had wanted to sack some of these monasteries for the great riches rumored to be inside, but a good number of my boys bowed to the Christian god in their own right. Tariq himself, my chief scout, was one such who wore a bland wooden cross dangling on his chest. Instead, we opted to just loot these places of any valuables rather than burn them to the ground and put to the sword anyone inside.

A pity.

Yet, it was not enough. It was not challenge enough. In the space of only days, we had captured enough booty to prove a fortune for a small kingdom, yet we had been met with pathetic force. On the waves, we sunk near eight hundred men, and on the shore killed a hundred more. The Romans were in short supply of warriors, and the scraps they called garrison further inland proved poor sport. The towns we sacked boasted of no walls nor wooden palisades. In many of them, the populace had been warned of our coming hours prior and they had fled to woodland or up nearby hills, spiriting away their immediate necessities and most valuable commodities.

All but one. My gaze wandered to the city glimmering white and gold far to the distance, perched atop a hill in its entirety. It was not unlike Damascus, I remarked to myself. My mouth watered at the thought of being credited for sacking that, conquering it even.

Of course, I knew ours was not a task to conquer, but to raid and pillage, in order to boost the Khalifa's coffers as well as to soften up these regions for campaigns of conquest in the future. I also knew that we were not to linger long on this island, and to always be on the move. That command hampered my dreams of sacking that city of splendor that I craved. That city far away.

It would be well garrisoned; well protected behind those sturdy stone walls. Watchtowers lined every corner and the sun reflected brilliant light off the tips of spears belonging to men who prowled those ramparts. I could not storm the city, even with my three thousand, for I had not the equipment to either scale the walls, batter them or ram through the gate. I would need a prolonged siege in order set foot inside. I needed time.

And time was one thing I did not possess.

Three commanders had set forth from Muslim shores at the head of the Khalifa's navy. One of us had already landed with his fleet of Egyptian vessels on the eastern coast, venturing to penetrate any settlements there. Abu al-A'war and I beached our ships at the foot of the two coastal watchtowers, which were located on the northern tip of the island. Abu al-A'war and I had split in order to cover more ground. He had gone to ravage westwards, while I decided to take the island's length – making my way south to the opposite shore. My men grinned stupidly at their prizes, but to me they were muck and shit.