Notes on the Art of War
Introduction
Baron Oengus mac Gilla Dubain offers the following promotional pairs of vignettes as background for Dreamstone 43: “Constantinople: City under Siege.”
A Gathering Storm: Two Vignettes
Inside the city of Constantinople, July of 717, a Byzantine scribe sits hunched over a wooden desk, the warm light of an oil lamp casting long shadows over the parchment. His quill glides across the paper, the faint scratch of writing fills the air.
The Umayyads have arrived, and their fleet darkens the horizon like a storm upon the sea. For weeks, we have watched their advance with growing dread, and now, they have encircled our great city. Their camp stretches from the shore to the hills, their soldiers as numerous as the sands, eager to bring ruin to our walls. Yet, within these sacred walls of Constantinople, the will of God and the strength of the Emperor guide us. We have endured countless sieges before, and this one will be no different.
Emperor Leo III, a man of vision and steadfast courage, has overseen the strengthening of our defenses. The walls of Theodosius stand tall, bristling with soldiers, archers, and the fire-siphons that will unleash the terrible power of Greek fire upon our enemies. Our fleet remains at the ready, poised to engage their ships if they venture too near. Within the city, we have stocked provisions, though lean times lie ahead. Famine and disease will come before the Umayyads breach our defenses… if God wills it.
The scribe hesitates, glancing at an icon of the Theotokos above his desk, then continues writing with renewed resolve.
In the churches, prayers rise unceasingly to the heavens. Our faith will sustain us, as it has in the past. The people look to the icons, asking for the intercession of the Mother of God, the Theotokos, to shield us from the sword of the infidel. We will fight with all that we have. God protect Constantinople and the true faith. The time of reckoning draws near.
Outside Constantinople, an Umayyad scribe is seated in a vast, open tent. Arabic script flows across the parchment under his steady hand. The light flickers from a brass lantern, and the noise of a bustling camp hums in the background.
At last, we stand before the city of Constantinople, the heart of the Christian empire, the prize of the faithful. For months, we have prepared for this moment, gathering strength and uniting under the banner of the Umayyad Caliphate. Our fleet has sailed the waters of the Aegean with the grace of Allah, and now our forces encircle the walls of this great fortress. The time has come to bring the light of Islam to these lands, as we have done across the world.
Commander Maslama leads us with wisdom and faith. He has devised careful plans for the siege ahead, knowing that Constantinople is no ordinary city. Its walls are high and thick, but no defenses are greater than the will of Allah. Our men are ready — our archers, our cavalry, and our foot soldiers, all strong and eager for battle. Supplies flow into our camp from land and sea, though we know the months ahead may test our endurance.
The scribe closes his eyes and lays down his quill, listening to the distant sound of men shouting orders amidst the ring of hammers, then returns to his writing with determination.
Our engineers work to construct siege towers and engines to bring down the infidel’s walls. The fleet, stationed off the coast, waits for the moment to strike. But we are patient. We know that victory comes to those who persevere in the path of Allah. Our cause is righteous, and our strength is unmatched.
Soon, Constantinople will fall, and the faith of the Prophet will spread ever further. May Allah grant us victory and honor. The city’s time draws near.
The Rains Have Come
October of 717, inside the walls of Constantinople. As the sun rises, and the winds begin to stir, our Byzantine scribe looks out from his writing desk for a few moments, pensive. He slowly closes his eyes, inhales deeply, and picks up his reed pen.
The weeks have passed, and still, the enemy presses upon our walls. The city feels the strain of this siege, yet we remain resolute. The Umayyads, though fierce and determined, have failed to breach our defenses. Our walls stand firm, and our faith holds us together. The fire-siphons have proven their worth, turning many of their ships to ash upon the sea, and the harbors remain ours. Their fleet cannot break through, nor can their men breach the mighty walls of Theodosius.
Supplies are low, but we endure. The people pray for deliverance, and the churches remain full with voices pleading for the intercession of the saints. Emperor Leo III has not faltered. Under his guidance, we have maintained a watchful defense, repelling every assault. He has enacted strict measures to ration our provisions, knowing that this siege will not end quickly.
The scribe pauses, in thought. A slight grin, furtive even though physically alone, cracks amidst the folds of his aging face.
Already, the enemy begins to suffer. We hear rumors of hunger spreading through their ranks. As the chill of autumn settles in, we trust that the hardships will weaken them further. Winter approaches, and it will be harsh. We will outlast them, as we have so many enemies before. Constantinople will not fall. Our faith is stronger than their numbers, and the walls, like our souls, remain unbroken. God is with us.
Outside the walls, our Umayyad scribe has just finished Fajr, the dawn prayer, and taken his place at the writing table. The stirring breeze betokens the rainy season to come, and as he opens his eyes from a deeply reflective moment, he takes up the pen.
The siege presses on, and the city remains standing, but our resolve has not weakened. The walls of Constantinople still hold, but so do we, camped at their gates with the will of Allah guiding us. Our forces remain steadfast, though the fight has been harder than we anticipated. Their Greek fire has taken a toll on our fleet, but we adapt, as we always do. Maslama continues to lead us with courage and patience, knowing that victory in such a campaign will not come swiftly.
As the days grow colder, the rains have come, and we feel the approach of winter. It will bring trials for us all, but our faith sustains us. Food supplies are tighter now, and the siege engines have yet to bring down their towering walls. Some speak of hardship, of hunger creeping through the camp, but we remind ourselves that every trial is a test of faith. We are here in service to Allah, and we will see this through.
His writing slows, and the pen seems to wilt in his hand, a measure of insecurity in its form.
Their defenses are strong, but they cannot hold forever. Constantinople’s people must be suffering behind their walls, just as we face difficulties outside. The city will break — if not by force, then by attrition. We are prepared to wait, to endure. Allah’s will is certain, and His victory is promised to the patient. Constantinople will fall, and the Ummah will grow stronger for it. We press on.
Source for public domain image pictured above: Mediaeval Map of Constantinople
