The Saracen Storm: A Novel of the Moorish Invasion of Spain by J. M. Nunez

Author:J. M. Nunez [Nunez, J. M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781999219703
Google: -RVTzQEACAAJ
Amazon: B0833RDYRP
Publisher: Jacques Gauvin
Published: 2019-12-26T07:00:00+00:00

PART II

CHAPTER 25

The ranks of soldiers waited in silence, oblivious to the light rain that had been falling through the night. Except for the occasional command given in hushed tones, all was quiet and deceptively peaceful.

“The enemy seems to be on the move, sire,” Pelayo’s adjutant remarked tersely.

Wrapped in the red military cloak of a field commander, Pelayo turned in the saddle and peered at the enemy horsemen crawling across the far side of the Guadalete valley.

“They’re just getting into position,” he said, his voice calm. “It’ll be a while yet.”

The two continued riding by the rows of soldiers assembled in battle formation. A centurion, standing in front of his men, called out, “How are you this morning, commander?”

“I’m well, Velasco,” Pelayo said, reining in his horse. “And you, how’s the shoulder?”

“Much better,” the centurion said, flexing his arm.

“Glad to hear that; we need you in fighting form today.”

“I won’t let you down, commander.”

“I know you won’t,” Pelayo said. He eyed the soldiers arrayed behind the centurion. “Your men ready for battle?”

“I hope so, sire, the long march has taken a toll on them. It’s unfortunate we couldn’t have had a few more days to rest. Rotten luck we got caught so far north.”

“I don’t believe luck had anything to do with it,” Pelayo said. “I’d wager a month’s salary the Moors knew exactly where we’d be.”

King Roderic had launched a major offensive against the Basques a month earlier. As the legions had been marching through the Pyrenean mountains, the King had received word that a Moorish army had landed on a southern beach near the Pillars of Hercules. Fearing any delay in countering the incursion would allow the invaders to swallow up more territory, the King had immediately ordered his forces to turn around and head southward. The long and arduous journey had been accomplished with remarkable speed, but it had come at a cost.

“The enemy has had days to prepare for battle,” Velasco said, gazing in the direction of their opponent’s camp. “I wonder what unpleasant surprises they have in store for us.”

“Whatever they are, we won’t have long to find out,” Pelayo said.

Velasco nodded grimly. “Good thing the northern barons showed up when they did.”

“No question about it; their troops should give us the edge.”

The previous day, while Pelayo and his soldiers had been setting up camp, a column of some three thousand men had appeared over the horizon. At first no one had been able to tell whether or not the force was friendly. After a tense moment, they had finally been able to make out the troops’ pennants. At the sight of the Iberian banners, the men had broken into raucous cheers.

Only Pelayo had remained silent. He had spotted Siberto’s standard amongst the others in the distance and memories of the three long years he had spent entombed in the baron’s dungeons had come flooding back.

Pelayo had joined an honor guard that had ridden out with the King to meet the northern barons, all of whom had taken part in the rebellion against the newly appointed monarch some years earlier.

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