The Justiniad --- A Heraclian Timeline
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And so Justinian shows his trademark rashness. Here's hoping it doesn't bite him in the rear end, even if he does have a point.
The Umayyads will be slow to react properly, but when they muster, Justinian is gonna get pimp slapped hard.
Thanks! I did my best to make his rage at first seem automatic, his body betraying his inner mind. I want to make Justinian seem quick to anger and offense, but not utterly insane (unlike a specific historian).
Oh it's gonna bite hard.
I really like how, in is own mind at least, there is a proper reason for his anger and to see enemies everywhere (the snicker). While cruelty does not make for a good ruler, it makes for a really interesting character.
Hopefully not to hard.
Oh dear, I guess that is inevitable, especially if his impulsive behavior is rewarded with another victory against the Umayyads.
Yeah I'm trying to be fair to Justinian himself. Theophanes the Confessor and Patriarch Nikephoros have a grain of truth in their stories about him, but of course they are highly overexaggerated. This is the best balance I could strike between realistic sensibility and his memorialized rashness.
Justinian II being rather rash. Probably gonna bite him in the ass eventually. But hopefully for the time he can win some good battles and help the empire breath and reform.
Yeah The Secret History is 🤣
At this point the Roman Empire has seen more breathing space than it did for the entirety of the 7th century. But I don't think this is going to end up too bad for Justinian, well at least not for his record.
True. If the 20 years of civil war and rebellion can be avoided and North Africa kept then maybe he can take advantage of the second fitna.
I mean he already has. That's one of his main reasons behind it, that the armies of Abd-al Malik are off dealing with the remnants of the Fitna, far from Anatolia or Armenia.
Chapter II: Neboulos
Chapter II: Neboulos
March, 692, Sebastopolis
March, 692, Sebastopolis
Neboulos walked through the cold, green fields of the camp. It was late that night, a half moon hung in the sky and the air still smelt of iron, from both swords and blood. He had been summoned by the boy emperor to plan the next steps of the campaign, though the war seemed over at this point. As he walked past the front of the hall where the boy kept his war council he heard the shouts of men, celebrating within the tent. He stood outside for a moment, wondering if the Roman fools had gotten drunk and forgotten there were still bands of Arab soldiers roaming the countryside.
As he entered from the side, he saw the entirety of the boy emperor’s commanders, save for himself, seated along a wooden table. The maps and papers that usually cluttered the tables were there, but oddly there was a cup of that watery Roman wine in front of each of the boy’s generals [1]. As he took his seat he looked to the foot of the table, and saw a bruised and bloodied man, bound and kneeling, opposite the boy. He immediately turned to the man seated at his side, his lieutenant Sabin.
“Would you mind telling me what the fuck I missed?” Neboulos whispered, speaking in their native tongue.
“The child has brought in Mouameth sir, the commander of the Arab army.” Sabin replied.
Neboulos sat in silence for a minute. This man, his face the same color as a ripe fig, was once the brother and commander of the Arab King, the most powerful man north of that great desert. And now here he was, beaten and bound before a boy, with only a chin strap of facial hair and no sons to his name.
“What happened to-” Neboulos was cut off by the sudden interjection of Justinian.
“Is there something you would like to say Neboulos? In a tongue we can all understand.”
“I was being caught up on the situation by my man sir.” The Sklaveni commander kept his eyes away from the Emperor.
“I understand.” The edge of his lips curled into an ever so small smile. “If that’s the case then I assume you already know his fate.”
“His fate sir?” Neboulos’s eyebrows scrunched up. “I don’t know what will be done with him.”
“Oh, my apologies. I should explain then.” He rose from his gilded chair. “In light of developments, I have decided that we shall not be ransoming Mouameth and his men to the Chief of the Arabs. Instead Mouameth, and whatever lieutenants of his we have in our hands, shall be dragged through the streets of Constantinople. They will be humiliated, their noses clipped, and their heads cut off. The remainder of the prisoners will be sold into slavery of course.”
Neboulos sat in awe. Were it not for his quick reaction he likely would have gone slack jawed on the spot. Here he was, the boy who had given him and his men land and wealth after defeating them, was now murdering his opponents on a whim.
“I, I think that is a wise decision my liege.” Neboulos said, wiping some sweat off of his hands.
“Thank you, I am glad that you understand what needs to be done.” The Emperor shot a quick glare towards Leontios, his chief general. His head was hung in shame and his skin as pale as milk. Had Leontios spoken up against this? Neboulos’s hands began to feel clammy.
“And I am glad that all of you, my commanders, feel the same way.” Justinian raised his cup. “I give this toast to our victory, to the death of our enemy, and the many victories to come!” The table burst into cheers from the men. Some were halfhearted, their tinny falseness ringing in the air. Others seemed genuine, as if they too believed that the Emperor was doing the right thing. His scaled breastplate felt sweltering.
Neboulos gave one last look at Mouameth, his wide eyes standing out against the bruises of his face, filled with terror. He remembered the offer the Arab messenger had made him, the amounts of gold and land he promised in Syria, all for their betrayal from the Emperor’s army. Had he listened to his greed he could have been sitting there too, destined to die in front of a jeering Roman crowd. The heat became truly unbearable at that moment. His stomach felt loose and his vision began to sway slightly.
“I apologize my Emperor,” Neboulos rose from his seat. “but I am feeling very ill. May I be excused?”
Justinian squinted at him. “You do resemble it. You are excused from this meeting. Return to your quarters and get your rest.”
Neboulos bowed and left the hall at a quick pace. This was no longer the kingdom of a lamb, but now the domain of a lion. And this lion could have torn his head clean off his shoulders should he wish.
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[1] Romans would always water down their wine, any non-diluted alcohol was seen as barbaric, and many barbarians thought the Romans were weird for doing it
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Yeah I did lmao. Got the meanings confused for a second.
Really? Damn I kinda felt like the build up was a bit weak but was it that good?
Given how Mouameth was shown in the previous chapter, it was pretty shocking for me to "see" him in such a state so soon. I thought he'd only be tortured and such after he was brought to Constantinople.
I mean he tried to beat up Justinian after learning his fate so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Well, that partially addresses why the Slavs remained loyal. I wonder if this episode reinforced Neboulos' loyalty to Justinian. I really like your portrayal of Justinian, you can truly feel his domineering personality, I just hope he doesn't do anything too rash or stupid.
I've been fond of Justinian II since I read that Turtledove novel about him, so I'm watching this with interest. Liking how it's going so far--though I wonder what he'll do for heirs. No Khazar wife this time.