Chapter 6 Crescent Moons and Greek Fire

The hooves of the approaching Arab horses thundered as they marched reverberating through the city. It was late night, but the al-mugāwir Army didn't care if they were heard of not. They wanted to be heard. Fear was a more powerful weapon than secrecy and inflicted terror and that's precisely what they aimed for. The Benimerines shouted and made all the possible noise that they could. The metallic clanking of their weapons sounded like a chiming call to death and destruction that night.

Around the plaza, the soldiers were posted waiting for the order to attack. In this side the clacking sound responded to the nervous soldiers' armors shaking when they trembled. The Moor warriors were notorious for their morbid and ruthless war rituals. In that way they had crushed their enemies and conquered Iberia five centuries ago and still they remained in the lower half of the peninsula where the Al-Andaluz, the kingdom of Grenada was powerful and feared. The Northern regions continued unharmed, until now.

Anibal swallowed the heavy lump in his throat. He looked up to La Seu Vella where his parents and sister were safe, for the moment. Then he lowered his gaze and studied his new shiny sword tightly gripped in his right hand and stroke the golden daggers in his waist pocket. He was thinking if that was enough to kill a few bastards. Certainly not. The scholar knew that a bit more would be needed to defeat the enemy.

Some images from his childhood dropped to his mind in that instant. He used to play to defeat moors and he always resulted victorious, for he was the powerful Conde de Albis, el maestro de la espada (Count of Albis, the master of the sword). And he rescued la hermosa dama like in El Cantar del Myo Cid sung by the bards when the Campeador fought against the Moors to prove his loyalty to the king and to defend his daughters' honor . That story inspired the nation to fight back... But the war and The Reconquista had divided the nation into a jigsaw puzzle for five long centuries.

Anibal remembered when Don Ignacio Torruella, the faithful herald of the family's shield of arms, instructed him in the arts of war, teaching him how to use the sword, the bow and arrow and the daggers. Now, De Albis hoped those fighting lessons would be useful somehow.

The thundering sound of an explosion brought back Anibal to reality. For a moment he thought of the powerful weapon the Moors had in the Greek Fire. Once the substance was ignited it was very difficult to extinguish. He knew all this after studying history scripts that narrated the battles that took place on the sea, where the Byzantine Empire used this incendiary weapon to attack enemy vessels and even the flames floated on the water surface without smothering for hours.

A second explosion was heard immediately after. The dark figures of the Benimerines emerged from the dim shadowy streets of La Ciudadela.

"Are you ready to kill some Moors, Don Anibal?" The soldier next to him asked, more in an encouraging tone.

"No, I'm not." Anibal replied after a few seconds of thinking of the extension of the question this man had made. In fact he was not ready to kill.

"Oh... that's certainly a major issue in this precise moment milord." Anibal could barely see the man's face under his armor but he was pretty sure of the kind of look he must have been giving to him.

"What's your name, soldier?"

"Caspio."

"Caspio, I only can assure something; that I will be by your side until the last one of these bastards fall. I'm not ready to battle... but when that horn blows, I will fight with my life to the end."

The man remained in silence and he just nodded. The scholar tensed the grip on the sword and waited. There was great commotion. The villages nearby the city were practically in fire. The Moors broke the first set of walls that guarded the town and it was only a matter of seconds to finally meet them in the battle ground: La Plaza de Lerida.

The bronzed spears with the crescent moons on top reflected on their metallic surface the flames on the streets and the full orb shining in the sky. It was a dreadful scene. The once frantic and disorganized appearance of the al-mugāwir army became neat... shockingly and ghastly neat. Now they marched in unison making a synchronized heavy thumping on the floor. The clanging sound of the Moors armors echoed on the streets and they produced a grave humming with their voices accentuating the compass of their infernal march. Anibal knew this was an intimidating strategy utilized by powerful armies throughout history, but he couldn't avoid to feel nervous no matter his knowledge on history and politics... He wasn't there to give a lesson to the soldiers on how the most dominant empires crushed the weakest ones. Iberia had suffered of that for too long. Anibal wasn't there either negotiate a treaty of peace with the Moors. Even though he spoke Arabic, his wisdom wasn't useful in that moment nor his mastering on the enemy's language.

There, the first Moor soldiers were close enough to be distinguished. They were not dark shadows in the night anymore. It was a fantastic display of warriors and weapons. Those men appeared impressive mounting their Arab stallions. Even in the dimness of the night they bore a regal demeanor. They were dark skinned bulk men that seemed to be sculpted using the same perfect stencil of African bronze. All of them with their neatly arranged turbans wrapped around their head and faces. Only their eyes could be seen. Even  the horses they mounted looked elegant. They carried their long and beautifully carved Scimitars and Nimchas hanging to their right flank.

The fire on the nearby village's buildings, the full moon in the sky, the historical plaza of Lerida and La Seu Vella presented an almost surreal image in the background scenery. But amongst all this, there were two powerful armies about to begin a battle. One was to conquer and the other one was to defend their city and the life of their beloved ones. Blood was about to be spilled all over the streets of Lerida.

Once the Benimerines were accommodated in the farther extreme of The Plaza, they stopped marching ending in a perfect alignment. Then everything became ghastly silent. The space between the two armadas was still and quiet, like the night itself. Anibal could hear his heart hammering frantically inside his chest. All of the sudden, two Moor horse riders broke the formation and carried in high their pennants  waving in the air proudly. One had the crescent moon and other one showed some Arabic scripts from which Anibal could only read the word 'Allah'.

The al-mucaddem gave the cry for battle that sounded like a mortuary chant to the ears of the scholar.

The general of the Iberian legions gave the order. "Atack!" The horns blew twice and the bell in the cathedral rang to announce that war had finally arrived to the tranquil northern region. The soldiers from both armies broke formation and ran, screaming; giving cries in frenzy. Adrenaline substituted blood inside their bodies. It was not time for a strategic deploy of arms. It would be a man to man combat, a fierce and dreadful confrontation.

Half of the Spanish cavalry advanced on front and half guarded the back. In the middle of the Iberian formation was the ordnance, men by foot and heavily armed ready to crush the first Moor defensive line that break the cavalry barrier. There was Anibal de Albis. He ran the faster he could with his sword in hand and his family in his heart.

"Waaar!" was the battle cry of the soldiers that ran to face death or victory in that terrible night.

****** Both terms Benimerines and al-mugāwir was given to the Moors soldiers or armies during the invation to Iberia. The al-mucaddem is the Moor commander or captain.

El Cantar del Myo Cid is an epic poem who's author is unknown that narrated the adventures of El Myo Cid. It is said was based on a true story of a man that was betrayed. His enemies told the king he had stolen the King's gold and he was exiled. He was forced to join the army that fought against the Moors. His daughters were given to marriage without his consent and then both were severely beaten, tied to a tree and left to die in the middle of the forest. For all this, it is a classic gem of the Spanish literature but it first formed part of Spain's history and oral tradition, narrated by the bards or 'juglares'.

Scimitars and Nimchas were some type of Arab swords.

Now, tell me, what do you think of this chapter? Can you sense the fear in the men and in Anibal himself? Did you like this? Please leave your comments and votes. It means a lot to me.

I'm sorry if I'm going a bit slow with this story but I want to bring the more accurate details that I can.

Thank you!