Chapter 10: Roman against Aztec
The first skirmishes between the Demetrian Expedition and the Aztec Empire were bloody affairs. Neither side was quite sure what to make of the other. The Romans had the limited experience of the first botched meeting with the Aztec, and the knowledge of the Purépecha to fall back on. It did little to really prepare them for how very violent the Aztec warriors truly were. On the other side of the battlefield, the Aztec had no experience in fighting those with steel armor and weapons. Roman crossbows killed many an Aztec warrior who only had experience with lesser weapons used by the Purépecha and other native foes. If later historians consider the slaughter to be remarkably one-sided in favor of the Romans, it is only because the Aztec were completely out of their depth and forced to fight their own native opponents more than the Romans, who were always shock troops.
Still, the Romans did not come out of these battles unscathed. For the Aztec, technologically inferior they may have been, were nothing if not fierce warriors...
-Roman-Aztec Wars, Published 1820
'Given the choice, I would have always chosen to come to the aid of the Purépecha. I was never going to see the throne. There was little enough reason to stay in Constantinople, withering away as an heir to no throne.[1] It is likely enough that I would have left on an expedition at some point, regardless of anything else. I was always a wandering soul. Being given the opportunity to lead the expedition? It was never a choice.'
So did Demetrios say, in his thoughts and eventually in his memoirs when he returned home. Whatever
home truly was, to the young Prince. Not even a year ago, he would have said Constantinople and Blachernae Palace. It was truly amazing how much opinions and beliefs could change in such a short time. For now, if he were asked, the Prince would look to the North and the West and be prompted to claim
Tzintzuntzan as his home. He believed the feeling was mutual amongst many of his troops. Their hosts had been nothing but welcoming and, despite their questionable religious practices, the Romans felt they were at
home, not on campaign.
As it was, Demetrios believed that it would take little effort to sway the
Purépecha to Christ anyway. It was simply a matter of time.
"Demetrios? Why are you standing out here?"
"I must keep watch. My duty is to my men, and I will not hear any claims I do not do my duty." The Prince's voice, even around the unfamiliar words of the
Purépecha, was smooth. He, after all, knew why the question was being asked. "I could direct the same question to you, my Lady. Should you not be with the other women, mending cloth and preparing the meals?"
Of course, he already knew the answer to that question. While very, very far from a warrior...this woman would never sit in the back with the others. Such a woman would never have made the journey to Constantinople and drew his attention in the first place. Indeed, he saw her out of the corner of his eye, even now. Staring at him with her dark eyes, daring him to comment on her presence in a way beyond what he had already done.
Shanarani was a strong-willed woman at the best of times.
"You are well aware of why I am here." She stepped to stand by Demetrios, her eyes looking out at the trees before them. "Do you believe the Aztec are near?"
Demetrios laid his hand upon his sword, his gaze scanning the forest. "I believe that we cannot ignore the possibility. If I have learned anything from your brothers and the others, it is that we cannot take anything for granted. I have been told that the Aztec will take any opportunity to get close. I would like to believe that they have enough honor to face us in the open, if only to please their
gods." He spit the word, the Roman's face twisting into a rictus of rage at the very idea. "However, I will not put the lives of my men at risk. Not my men, nor the men that your father has sent with us. It would be wrong of me to do so."
I could not face my father, nor my brothers, if I failed. I could not face myself if I failed.
"I...see." Shanarani put her own hand on Demetrios' arm, gently squeezing it. It was a simple touch, yet so much more than it appeared. Neither could show even this much around the men. "I am sure my father appreciates that you are so careful. We have...lost many men to the Aztec. I am far from the only one who is hopeful that may change, with the support you have brought. I have seen how you fought my brother and how your men have trained with my father's. I can hardly claim to be a warrior, yet I believe no one can possibly stand against the skill I have seen."
"Perhaps. I hope that will be the case. Until then, I will continue to stand watch."
Shanarani sighed deeply, though there was an underlying fondness to it. "Your father does not understand what he has lost, in sending you here. Few men I have ever met cared so much about others as you do."
The Roman Prince smiled beneath his helmet, though his blue eyes remained focused on the trees. As if he could will the Aztec he
knew to be hiding into being. To force them to show themselves, and prove that he was not wrong in standing upon this hill. "You should return to the others, my Lady. If the Aztec will not make a move, I plan to move the camp after our meal. The scouts claim there is a city nearby, relatively undefended. We will force conflict, if needed."
It was deeply important to the Prince, that his men fought a battle. A small skirmish to truly test their skills. There was only so much that training with the
Purépecha could do to prepare the Romans. They would have to face the Aztec in battle. A baptism of fire to gauge what they had learned. To put them to the test.
[2]
"As you wish, Demetrios." Shanarani pulled her hand back, stepping back from the Roman. Her eyes hidden behind the mane of her hair, as she shook her head. "You should do the same, if you want to feast before we move."
"Hmph."
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'In the end, I would not see combat that day. Perhaps the Aztec were not lurking in the trees. Or they decided that it was not the time to fight. It would be some time yet, before my men truly saw combat. I was in the thickest part of that battle, as I had promised Shanarani. I would not lead my men from the rear. I would not stand aside atop my horse and let them fight my battle. It was not in my nature, then or now. As a Prince...as a man...I could never leave my men alone. I was their ruler, their leader, their companion. I would fight with them.'
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"Your Highness, you should move back!"
Demetrios grit his teeth, and ignored the words from his bodyguard. He caught the wide blade of an Aztec
macuahuitl upon his own sword. The wooden weapon, obsidian blades sharply glinting in dull sunlight, was much larger than his curved sword. Demetrios hardly cared. He had trained with the
Purépecha for such a battle. He twisted his wrists, dragging his blade free with a cascade of shattering obsidian.
I may have underestimated their determination.
Spinning on his heel, the Roman Prince slashed down with his sword. A cry of pain echoed, as he cut the arm of the Aztec warrior from his body. A cry of pain that was short-lived, for the Prince swiftly stabbed his weapon through the heart of the screaming warrior. Barely acknowledging the blood on his arm or face, Demetrios winced as he felt a blow against his back. His armor held, even while the blunt-force forced him to stumble.
"Stay back, your Highness!" The same bodyguard cried out, moving to attack the Aztec warrior that had gotten behind Demetrios. As the two men began to duel, the Prince in question moved further into the battle.
"This is madness. Utter madness." Demetrios muttered under his breath, as screams in a language he didn't understand echoed around him.
The Aztec had attacked out of nowhere, moving through the trees in a way that only those familiar with the land could hope to manage. They had ambushed his men with a skill that belied the insane way they fought. For the Aztec had no apparent strategy. Their men fought individually, concerned with the glory they would receive more than with victory. Every time they struck, it seemed to be more of an attempt to disable than kill. A
Purépecha warrior fell, clutching his arm as the Aztec who attacked him crowed in victory...only to fall with a crossbow bolt in his eye.
It was a scene replicated throughout the little clearing. A group of Roman archers stood at the back line, firing bows and crossbows into the Aztec's charge. While Demetrios caught another Aztec by surprise, jamming his sword through the man's back, the Roman line was already consolidating. Men formed into a shield wall, spears ready and waiting.
"Do not falter, my brothers!" Demetrios shouted as far and as loud as he could. He pulled his blade free, and held the bloodied weapon aloft. "We are warriors! We are soldiers! We are
Roman!" Bringing his blade down, the Prince pointed it at where Roman soldiers stood back to back with
Purépecha warriors against the Aztec charge. "We stand beside great warriors of the
Purépecha! We will not lose this battle, so long as we draw breath! To me!"
Those Romans not firing volleys of arrows, nor in the shield wall, flocked to their Prince. The
Purépecha, those who understood Greek, sent up a cheer of their own. For the first time in this battle, the Aztec
faltered. They were unused to an enemy that rallied in such a way. Even the bravest of the Aztec warriors were already unnerved by the plate armor of the elite Roman troops. By the crossbows that so outperformed their own limited archery.
[3]
Demetrios was not one to ignore such an event. He noted the Aztec wariness, and took brutal advantage. "Push them back! For Rome and for Christ, push them back!"
A deep roar echoed from the Romans, joined by the
Purépecha, even those who didn't understand the words being spoken. A charge of those unengaged began, steel and bronze swords flashing in the dull morning light. The Aztec, save for the few
ocēlōtl, broke and ran back into the trees around the clearing. Demetrios let those men run, out of pragmatism and a desire to kill the elite forces who remained. And, perhaps, to have them spread the word of his men and their attack.
If the Aztec wanted a war, they would
have one.
"Your Highness! We've won!" A
Purépecha warrior, who spoke passable Greek, cheered. He pulled his bronze straight-sword free from an Aztec warrior. "We
won!"
How long has it been since these men have been able to say that, and truly mean it?
Demetrios smiled at the man, even while he continued to wave his men forward. "We have! We must not let up, though! We must kill all those who remain!"
And kill the Romans did. When a soldier, one of the less fortunate to not have plate, fell to an Aztec arrow, it brought a blood-rage in the Romans. They slaughtered the remaining Aztec warriors. No quarter was given from the Romans, nor the
Purépecha, who had suffered at Aztec hands for far too long. It is said that not a single Aztec warrior survived that first battle. It would only be future battles where the Aztec would ever surrender. Or where a surrender would ever be accepted.
[4]
In that moment, Demetrios could hardly bring himself to care. As he walked among the corpses of
Purépecha and a few unfortunate Romans, he felt his heart break. As he had told Shanarani, he saw each and every one of his men as irreplaceable. As far from logic as it may have been, he felt the weight of their deaths on his shoulders. His men had been bloodied in combat. This skirmish had taught them much about how the Aztec fought, and how to fight them on their own ground. It was an important lesson.
It was a lesson that Demetrios would never forget, so long as he drew breath.
1. Demetrios had long known he would never see the throne. Alexios would not have sent him away if there were any chance otherwise. It would take the death of his brothers and their children to open that line of succession. Even so, it would still burn, deep down. This may, indeed, have been part of the reason Alexios chose him to lead the expedition.
2. There was a desire, not just in Demetrios, to put the Roman troops to the test. Both the
Purépecha and their Roman allies were eager to see just how their weapons and training fared against the Aztec. To see if they could truly turn the tide of the neverending war.
3. The Aztec- and the
Purépecha -were not unfamiliar with archery. Bows were relatively rare, but not unheard of. However it was a field that was not remotely as well developed as it was by the Romans. Not by virtue of the Aztec not caring about archery, far from it, as it was a sign of the nobility in some cases. The Aztec would use bows in the attack just as Romans. However, the Romans put much more weight on their archers and the impact they could have in a battle. Furthermore, the Roman crossbow would prove quite superior to even the very best Aztec bow.
4. This first battle was not a time where surrender would have been accepted. Even in future battles, it was relatively rare for the Aztec to surrender. Perhaps because they believed they would become a sacrifice, much as the men they were attempting to capture for their own gods and advancement. Those few who did were often killed out of hand, such that it is believed that it was highly rare for a surrender to be accepted and for the Aztec warrior to survive to return home- or to a home in
Purépecha lands as a slave or free man.
AN: Experimenting with this one. I wouldn't expect a large amount of narrative bits, though. It's also not as long as I wanted it to be but...eh. It seemed to fit the length where it ended up. Hopefully it worked well.