whence in prehistoric ages so many germs of ancient civilization had
been carried to the main-land. The northern headlands and bays of
Crete were still wrapped in dim twilight, while a glorious sun of
July had tinted the topmost crags of Mount Ida, and its beams
gradually swept downward on to the lower ranges, upland pasturages,
woodlands, and teeming meadows of that beautiful island. From point
to point, as the day rose, the eye caught sight of bands of swarthy
Africans, for the most part in white tunics, armed with spear and
sword, while mailed emirs in turbans and snowy burnoose hurriedly
passed from post to post across the glens. Light-clad messengers on
quick Arab barbs dashed across the open spaces or scrambled up the
rocky path to some castle on its pinnacle of stone. Far as the eye
could reach the whole coast seemed alive with excitement and moving
hosts.
From the bay that faces the petty islet then called Dia, a small band
of Arab spearmen were hurriedly dragging three bound prisoners to an
eminence which commanded a range of view both east and west. There
was displayed on a lofty lance-head the streaming standard of the
chief emir, around whom were grouped camels and barbs with
embroidered housings, mailed warriors, and ebon footmen from the
Soudan. When the party had dragged their captives to the commander,
by a gesture he ordered them to be brought to his presence, and
called for an interpreter to put his question in the Greek tongue.
The Emir Abd-el-Aziz, the governor of Crete, looked what he was, one
of the heroes of Islam in the long death-grapple which for seven
centuries and a half the Crescent maintained against the Cross of
Rome. He well knew the vital importance of defending the island
which his creed had held for one hundred and thirty years. All his
demands for help from the Asian side had been paralyzed by the
internal confusions of the caliphate of the East. The urgent embassy
he had despatched to the great Abd-er-Rahman, the caliph of Spain,
had not yet returned. Left with his single island force to meet the
mighty host and navy of Rome, he strained every nerve to resist the
Christians to the death.
"Who are these men, and where were they taken?" he asked the leader
of the band who had brought them--the captain, in fact, of one of the
corsairs which had scoured the Ægean Sea with such success.
"Last night," said the seamen, "as we were watching the advance of
the misbelievers, we sighted three of his despatch-boats on the
lookout for a good landing. We cut off one of them, and after a
stout fight dragged the survivors ashore, Allah be praised!"
"What have you learned of the enemy's strength?" said the emir.
"We have sighted three squadrons, each of which is believed to
contain more than one hundred sail. And they are within a few hours
of the coast."
"Require the prisoners to report the strength of the enemy and the
place where they seek to land. If they speak, they shall be free to
serve the one God and His Prophet. If they refuse, send for the
provost marshal and his men."
The alternative was duly interpreted to the wretched captives,
bleeding with their wounds and panting from the haste with which they
had been dragged. A smile of defiance was their only answer. The
two foremost prisoners were seamen from Chios; the third was no
soldier, but a landsman from Thessalonica, pressed into the service
of the oars.
One of the emir's staff now stepped forward and took charge of the
question. "One!" he shouted; and as the prisoner neither spoke nor
moved, the provost marshal's men slashed off his ears and his nose.
Not a groan escaped the prisoner.
"Two!" he shouted, and within two minutes more the wretch was flung
on the ground and his eyes were gouged out in sight of his shuddering
comrades.
Silence ensued, broken only by the moans of the sufferer with his
muttered prayer to the Mother of God and the stifled groans of the
two who were awaiting the same fate.
"Three!" and all around held their breath to listen; but no sound
passed the Chian's lips, and he bit his lips to choke his moan. A
deathly pause followed. "Christ receive me," muttered the man.
Then, with a sign from the captain, a scimitar crashed through the
victim's neck, and his mutilated head rolled to the feet of his
companions in agony.
The sickening scene was repeated with the second Chian, who suffered
and died with the same stoical silence.
But as his head rolled towards the Thessalonian prisoner and covered
him with blood, the courage of the third man gave way, and with a
shriek he offered to disclose all he knew.
A long and close examination, carried on with no small persuasion
from the instruments of torture and mutilation so liberally displayed
by the provost marshal and his men, at length wrung from the prisoner
a full and fairly accurate description of the forces led by
Nicephorus, and also of the place and time in which they might be
expected to disembark.
The emir now called a council of war, and, giving his lieutenants his
final orders, sent mounted men in every direction to marshal his host
for the coming struggle. The bay, with its sandy beach on which the
prisoners had been brought ashore, seemed the spot where the
Christian host would attempt to land. And Abd-el-Aziz with
promptitude and skill arranged his forces in a circle round the
amphitheatre which commanded the bay. He had hardly finished his
dispositions when the great fleet was descried in the offing, as in
three separate squadrons it bore down to concentrate in the bay.
Shouts of triumph, war-songs from a thousand throats, chants to
Allah, and the name of his Prophet mingled with the sound of horses
and camels and the orders and incitements of the emirs in command.
Slowly and in uniform mass the Roman fleet moved on, till it filled
the entire bay, and came so near the shore that the voices of the
captains could be heard on land. The huge chelandion, The Archangel
Michael, the flag-ship of the commander, was in the centre, and from
it there was now sent forth a powerful barge propelled by twenty-four
oarsmen, on which stood Nicephorus in person to direct the entire
movement. For a space, both mighty hosts waited in silence, watching
for the first opportunity to strike. Then Nicephorus, bareheaded and
unarmed--for he had laid aside his helmet, corselet, greaves, and his
spear and sword--stood up at the prow of his barge, and, raising his
hands aloft, and gazing upward to heaven, offered in the sight of
Christian and infidel his solemn dedication of his force to Christ.
"Almighty Creator of this Thy universe, behold the army of Thy people
at the frontier of Thy enemies. Look down on them. Thou who canst
destroy with a breath the thousand towers of the ungodly, strengthen
the hearts of Thy chosen soldiers. Root out from them any craven
fear. Bring to shame the promises of the false prophets who set
themselves against Thee. Show forth this day who is the true Peter
and who is the author of false lies. Make manifest, O Lord, who it
is that is the camel-driver, who is the profligate, who is the
contriver of all craft and abomination!"
Such was the prayer reported in the iambics of Theodosius the deacon,
who was present in the expedition as chaplain on the high admiral's
flag-ship, and was full of thoughts to adorn the immortal _Iliad_ he
designed on "_The Capture of Crete_" in five cantos, which have come
down to us after a thousand years. And in the same veracious poem we
learn that the ever-victorious commander of the crusade then caused
himself to be fully armed. He put on his golden corselet and plumed
helmet, and, equipped with his buckler and mighty spear, he bade the
oarsmen row his barge along the line of battle-ships, while he thus
addressed his men in that voice of thunder which they knew and loved:
"Soldiers, captains, my friends, my children, fellow-servants of the
Most High, ye who are the sinews of Rome and liegemen of our
sovereign lord the king, look at this fair shore and island, with its
rich and fragrant pastures, valleys, hills, and bright towns. Once
all these were part and parcel of our Rome, our fatherland--once they
were in the realm of our king. Once, I say, in years gone by, till
sloth and vice betrayed them to the enemy, drove out our people and
gave them to the infidel. Charge these barbarians, then, with a
stout heart. Take their cities with your swords. Take their women,
take their children, and their children's children. Ye have nothing
to fear from their puny darts. Ye need not be amazed if they do draw
your blood. Wash out your sins with the red blood of the
misbelievers--these blaspheming savages. They who fall will be
honored by our lord and master, who will amply provide for their
women and children. This is my last word, men. Hold your shields
firm and close. Clinch your spears well in front. Show yourselves
true sons of Rome. Let not that great name be put to shame by you!"
While the chief had been speaking, the Saracen battalions had rapidly
drawn down to the shore, and were now arrayed in long, dense lines
round the bay, both horse and foot, prepared to contest the landing;
but their javelins were not powerful enough to reach the ships.
"Bowmen, advance!" now roared the admiral, and a hundred captains
re-echoed the order along the line. Instantly a swarm of barges
advanced with long sweeps to the beach, each holding fifty bowmen
from the Thracian and Dyrrachian highlands, armed with the most
effective weapons of that age. These poured upon the Saracens' lines
a rain of arrows and bolts so dense and deadly that it completely
broke the ranks of the defenders. They fell back sullenly from bank
to bank, leaving the shore strewn with dead and wounded men, horses,
camels, and mules.
The gallant emir now reformed his broken forces on a higher range of
hills, just out of bow-shot from the ships. Then they beheld the
advance of the main Christian host. The ships were driven straight
on to the sandy shore, and from them descended masses of heavy-armed
foot-soldiers, with round bucklers, long spears, and massive
battle-axes. Forming up in close phalanx, these Macedonian guards,
in hauberk and round helmets, fixed shield to shield like an iron
wall, and advanced in dense array to the charge. They were led on
the right wing by the Russians and Norsemen of the imperial guard,
whose huge stature, fair, long hair, and gleaming halberds formed a
strange contrast to the lighter arms of the swarthy and wiry children
of the desert.
On came the Roman phalanx without a pause, for the slighter javelins
and missiles of the Saracen could make but small impression on the
closely locked wall of the Varangian shields. In the midst of each
battalion was seen a bishop with his canons in stole, alb, and
chasuble, bearing aloft a crucifix of gold, ornamented with jewels
and enamel, and a fragment of the true Cross. They broke forth into
a hymn to the Mother of God, whom they invoked to lead them on to
victory. And in the hymn the mailed infantry of Rome joined; and
from ten thousand throats broke forth the prayer to Christ to aid His
soldiers against the miscreant railers of His holy name. So they
marched steadily on to the foot of the hills, whereon the Hagarenes
were massed. Then at the sound of "Charge!" with fierce yells and
shouts of "Rome!" "Christ!" and "Mary!" they rushed up the heights,
the warlike and poetic deacon tells us, "like mountain-lions," in his
enthusiasm as he watched them from his barge.
The lighter army of the emir could not stand the shock of this
tremendous phalanx, so far heavier in men, arms, and numbers, and
with all their courage and skill they wavered and fell back. Then a
sight, strange, indeed, to these children of the desert, struck
wonder and dismay into their ranks. It was a new device to which
Nicephorus and his engineers had given all their thoughts. The bulky
transports of shallow draft, on which the cavalry had been stowed,
were driven ashore till they grounded on the sand. Their bulwarks
opened, and from them were lowered by cranes broad and stout bridges,
which had been slung to the masts, so as to form a gangway from the
deck to the beach. Thence poured out dense squadrons of cavalry
fully equipped with lance and mail. They scoured the plain from end
to end as they slew the broken fugitives and the helpless wounded.
Foremost among these terrible horsemen were the cataphracti or
cuirassiers, mostly Sarmatians or Anatolians, from the Asian steppes,
clad in close-fitting coats and greaves of mail from head to foot,
and using alternately the bow, the sword, the light lance, and a
small, round shield. These nimble and expert troopers cut up the
broken ranks of the Saracens, trampled down all who had turned to
fly, and left no living thing on the field where they had passed.
In the midst of the roar of battle the poetic deacon clung to the
commander-in-chief, who, now on his charger, and with his staff,
commanded the cavalry in person. It was even now his chief care to
prevent his forces, in their heat, from becoming too far scattered
over the broken country. He knew that with his vast fleet of
transports and barges the sea was a danger greater than the Saracen
army. This was now effectually repelled and shattered. The whole
ground they had occupied was strewn with their dead. Far as the eye
could see, every village was in flames and every post of the enemy
was sacked and levelled. Galloping to the nearest homestead,
Nicephorus sternly bade his men reform in order to re-embark. He
ordered them to cease the wanton slaughter of women and children,
whom the Sarmatians and Anatolians were engaged in massacring like
sheep. With his own hand he cut down a ferocious Cappadocian whom he
saw in the act of hacking to pieces an infant.
At this moment the general was attracted by the shrieks of a woman
who dashed out of one of the houses, the roof of which was already on
fire. She was closely pursued by a band of wild, irregular horsemen
from the Caucasian border, who, furious and blood-stained, were
following her like hounds after their prey. Her dress, which had
been that of the Moors, was torn in shreds, and only half concealed
her fair limbs and graceful form. She rushed screaming to the
presence of the general, whom she addressed in gasps, but in the pure
Greek tongue. "Save me, keep back these wretches!" she cried. "I am
a Roman, the daughter of a senator, and a worshipper of Christ and
His Mother." "Who art thou, my daughter?" said the chief. "I am
Theodora, the only child of Cedrenus, once governor of Cappadocia. I
was captured by corsairs while on a voyage across the Ægean Sea to
join my father, dragged to this island, where I have been for two
years the slave of the Emir Nazireddin, whose house these savage men
have sacked and burned."
"Hast thou forsworn Christ and His Holy Mother?" asked the chief.
"Never have I done so in thought, word, or deed, most noble lord,
though I have been forced to submit to the indignities and to listen
to the blasphemies of these unbelievers. My master, who had wives of
his own creed, cared little what were the thoughts of a slave, or
what were her prayers."
"Are there many Roman women, Christians and virtuous, in like case?"
"There are hundreds in every town along the coast, who have been
seized in ships at sea or carried off from the storming of a seaport
in the empire. This island must now contain at least twenty thousand
Roman women such as I am, forced to wear the garb of Islam and to
serve the followers of the Prophet--all young--for the rest they kill
off at sight as useless encumbrances."
"Go in safety and in honor, my daughter," said Nicephorus, gently,
"these officers of mine shall see to your protection." His brow
darkened, and he called round him his chief officers and secretaries.
He said:
"See that this orgy be stopped and bring back my army to our ships.
This Christian and innocent girl is the daughter of my friend and
comrade--whose soul may God receive in mercy--and she was like to be
outraged and massacred by my own men under my very eyes. Our work in
the Lord is not half done until we save and rescue these miserable
daughters of our people and bring them back to our country and to
Christ."
Nicephorus, whose life had been passed in continual battle with the
sons of Hagar, was far from sharing in the wild exultation of his
soldiers; nor did he at all believe that his first victory, however
brilliant, was enough to complete the campaign. He well knew the
courage, the resolution, the fanaticism of the Saracens of the East,
and especially of the race which had held Crete for nearly a century
and a half against all the power of Rome. He took up fortified
positions on the northern coast, supported by his fleet, which
blockaded every port. He sent forth strong detachments to secure the
principal centres. And he despatched a powerful force of cavalry and
mounted infantry under Pastilas, a general of valor and experience,
into the heart of the island, with strict orders to keep constant
watch both day and night against surprises, and to practise the
utmost caution against the wiles of the treacherous foe.
A terrible blow justified his warning. For days Pastilas had been
sending despatches to report that his squadrons had swept everything
before them and had seized immense booty--horses, camels, cattle,
provisions, and valuables without limit--and were concentrating in
the great central plain, whence they would dominate the whole island.
Nicephorus sat late one night in his tent pondering his plans with a
map and studying reports of his scouts, when his officers gave notice
of a mounted messenger advancing at a gallop. In a moment the
horseman, bedraggled, torn, and bleeding as he was, flung himself
from his foaming and exhausted mount, and threw himself down before
the chief.
"A great disaster, my lord general, an ambush, a rout of our force,
of which I am one of the few survivors. Our commander and all his
officers slain. Everything and every man the prey of the Hagarenes.
They drew our whole force into a trap, as it passed through a wooded
defile, and surrounded us on every side. Pastilas died fighting like
a lion at bay. But his entire command is destroyed, save a few
fugitives, of whom I am one."
"And my orders?" said the chief. "Where were the scouts, the
outposts, the eyes of the general?"
"It is not for me, a plain captain of the Defensors, with the
reserve, stationed far to the rear, whence I could see and learn
little, to pass judgment on my commander. And I fear me much that no
one of his officers in the main battle survives. Pastilas had
captured and dispersed scores of the enemy's detachments, had swept
the land without a check, had seized horses, stores, slaves, women,
wine, and gold; and his men could not be held from revelry, riot, and
sloth."
Nicephorus listened in silence, with lips drawn tight, and breathing
hard. He dismissed the messenger with a gesture, and groaned to
himself. "Thus was Crete lost to Rome by our ancestors. Thus will
Rome be lost to Christ, unless His people turn their hearts to
understand the desperate war they have to wage with the False
Prophet. A brave man was Pastilas, who has served Rome and God right
well until this day. May he find mercy above! On earth he will be
remembered as one who brought this cause a second time to the verge
of ruin."
The chief had hardly overestimated the gravity of the situation. The
Saracen hosts were now all drawn into their vast central citadel of
Chandax, whence they issued in continual sorties and raids both by
day and night. The tremendous fortress was closely beleaguered, but
the strain of so great a siege wore down the Roman army, decimated by
three successive blows--the overwhelming of Pastilas, with the flower
of the cavalry, next the incessant sorties and ambuscades, and,
lastly, fever, cold, and want of food. The magnificent host that had
set forth so proudly in midsummer from the Golden Horn had dwindled
to a third in the winter, and the immense stores it carried were
exhausted. The Saracen stronghold was indeed at its last extremity.
But all through that terrible winter it was hard to say if the
defenders or the besiegers were in the worst plight or were the
nearer to famine and exhaustion. Easter of 961 A.D. was at hand,
when, at the urgent demand of Nicephorus, a new levy was sent out
with adequate supplies under the command of Basil Digenes, the
Acritas, the chivalrous warden of the marches. It was, indeed,
sorely needed.
The vast stronghold of the Saracens of Crete looked as proud and as
menacing as ever. Chandax--so named from the fosse, within which the
first Mussulman conquerors of the island had intrenched themselves
one hundred and thirty years before--rose from a precipitous rock
overhanging the northern coast of the island; and in successive
generations it had been raised to be one of the most powerful
fortresses of the Eastern world. Its huge walls were defended with a
long chain of lofty towers, from the battlements of which swarthy
bowmen shot down every living thing that approached the circuit,
while the gates and posterns would suddenly pour forth by day or by
night bands of light horse or foot which harassed the camp, burned
the engines, and cut off the pickets.
The Moslem fortress was now closely invested and cut off from all
succor by a range of trenches and earthworks running round it from
sea to sea, and it was attacked night and day by every device known
to the siege-train of the tenth century, an art in which the
Byzantines had preserved and greatly extended the traditions and
machines of old Rome. All attempts to scale the lofty curtain with
ladders had been beaten off with fearful loss, after desperate
combats at all hours of day or night. Protected by mantlets, hurdles
wattled with osiers and covered with hides, the besiegers had pushed
on their works close up to the walls, which they now battered with
huge rams and pierced with sharp-headed bores. The rams were worked
each by some sixty men, who were protected by a pent-house of timber
covered with hides. The bore had already loosened blocks in the base
of the wall, but the defenders within continually crushed the ram or
bore with massive stones, or seized the head with forked beams, which
caught it in a vise, while the rain of missiles from above, with
boiling pitch and every form of combustible, cut down the assailants
and destroyed their engines. The losses within the city were equally
severe. Protected by pent-houses, like the rams and bores, but
farther behind their earthworks, the Romans plied their huge
catapults, which hurled masses of rock and iron into the fortress,
keeping up an incessant bombardment. They also used the balista, an
immense fixed cross-bow, which shot bolts with extraordinary force
and precision upon the battlements, whereon nothing living could
stand exposed without certain destruction.
From morn till night the commander-in-chief, with his principal
officers, inspected the works, ordered some new device, or searched
for some weak spot in the defence. It was after a strenuous day in
the seventh month of the siege, as the sun was setting in crimson
glory behind the spurs of Mount Ida, that Nicephorus and his trusted
Digenes Acritas were watching the success of a new engine of assault
that had been prepared with great pains. It was a tower of three
stages, constructed of massive beams protected by frames and hides
and crowned with a stout roof. It was now being rolled forward on
broad wheels to afford means of scaling the walls. The assault at
this moment was a terrific sight. The catapults and balistas were
pouring out on the ramparts stones, bolts, and bombs filled with the
famous Greek fire. The earthworks of the besiegers were garnished
with poles, on which stood impaled the ghastly heads of Saracens
slain in the sorties. From time to time the ferocious ribaldry of
the camp led the brutal soldiery to hurl into the city these grinning
trophies of their slaughter, to appall their living comrades. The
horrid jest of this day had been to hurl from the largest of the
catapults a living mule, in derision of the famine within the
citadel; and the Roman army roared with delight as the wretched brute
dashed quivering down upon the loftiest tower.