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Chapter 371 - Chapter 371: The Decisive Naval Battle

For many years, Sicily had remained under the rule of the Eastern Roman Empire.

That changed in 826, when a rebellion broke out on the island. After the uprising failed, its leader fled to the Aghlabid dynasty in North Africa and returned at the head of a Moorish fleet, beginning a conquest that would last for decades.

As time passed, Eastern Roman possessions in Sicily steadily fell one after another.

In 870, the Aghlabid dynasty decided to deliver the final blow and, beginning in May, laid siege to Syracuse, the island's most important stronghold.

Upon receiving news of the siege, Basil assembled a massive fleet and dispatched it from the Aegean Sea to relieve Sicily.

On September 25, the Eastern Roman fleet arrived in the waters near Syracuse.

This time, the Moors had underestimated Basil's determination.

They had not anticipated the arrival of the Eastern Roman navy, and many Moorish vessels were still occupied transporting troops in the rear.

Realizing that the enemy was approaching, the Moorish commander hastily gathered a hundred ships of various types and attempted to block the relief fleet.

At noon, both sides completed their deployments, and the decisive battle began.

The Eastern Roman fleet occupied the eastern side of the battlefield and adopted the classic crescent formation.

Heavy dromon warships formed the center, while fast and agile oared sailing vessels were stationed on both wings.

The Moorish fleet was outnumbered, but their ships had higher decks, allowing archers and crossbowmen to fire from above.

Their vessels were also faster and more maneuverable than those of their opponents.

After some thought, the Moorish commander divided his fleet into three groups, intending to tear apart the Eastern Roman battle line through dispersed assaults.

A light easterly wind carried the Eastern Roman fleet slowly forward.

At long range, their ballistae began bombarding the enemy ships, launching stones and bolts across the water.

The Moors returned fire with their own artillery while their archers loosed clouds of arrows to suppress the Greek crews.

The distance between the fleets steadily shrank.

Then the bronze tubes mounted on the bows of the dromons erupted with Greek fire.

The sight sent the Moorish ships directly ahead scrambling to evade.

Left with little choice, the Moors turned toward enemy vessels on the flanks.

Their rowers pulled with all their strength, trying to close the distance and bring the battle into the brutal boarding actions at which they excelled.

This time, however, the Eastern Romans had learned from past experience.

Recognizing that Greek sailors were poor hand-to-hand fighters, they had assigned contingents of Eastern European mercenaries to every dromon.

Clad in heavy armor and wielding fearsome two-handed weapons, these mercenaries easily repelled Moorish sailors armed only with curved blades and wooden shields.

The battle raged for three hours.

The sea became a scene of devastation.

Broken planks drifted across the waves alongside the bodies of the dead.

Although the Moorish sailors displayed remarkable determination, the situation steadily deteriorated.

At three in the afternoon, thirty light ships that the Eastern Romans had held in reserve entered the battle.

They executed a classic pincer maneuver, completing the encirclement.

The Moorish fleet descended into irreversible chaos.

After another half hour of resistance, more and more Moorish ships were sunk.

The surviving vessels finally began abandoning the battlefield.

"So this is the strength of the Eastern Roman navy?"

To the north, on the edge of the battlefield, the Blue Parrot floated quietly upon the sea.

Hadava watched the engagement in stunned amazement.

For years, the Royal Navy had lacked an equal rival in the Atlantic Ocean.

Its primary duties consisted of supporting land campaigns or hunting scattered Frankish ships and fishing vessels.

Never before had it witnessed a naval battle on such a grand scale.

"It seems His Majesty was right."

Since 865, Vig had repeatedly rejected proposals from the Admiralty to expand into the Mediterranean.

Many had thought him overly cautious.

After witnessing this battle, Hadava finally understood his reasoning.

The Royal Navy dominated the Atlantic largely because oared warships were poorly suited to the ocean's harsh conditions.

If both sides fought in the Mediterranean, however, Britain's three-masted warships would enjoy far fewer advantages.

After observing for a while longer, the Blue Parrot withdrew northward and returned safely to Toulon.

At that time, the Duke of Provence happened to be inspecting the harbor's defenses.

After hearing Hadava's account of the battle, he asked curiously,

"If the Royal Navy had fought that battle, could we have won?"

Hadava considered for a moment.

"If every available ship participated, I'd say we'd have about a fifty percent chance."

"Is it really that serious?"

The duke was visibly alarmed.

Obviously, the Royal Navy could not abandon control of other seas in order to concentrate solely on the western Mediterranean.

For the foreseeable future, Provence might well have to face hostile fleets of considerable size.

To be safe, the duke resolved to levy additional peasants and construct more coastal beacon towers for early warning.

At the same time, in Londinium, Britain—

Upon receiving an imperial summons, the Prime Minister, the Minister of War, and the Minister of Naval Affairs traveled to the palace and were directed into a spacious four-wheeled carriage.

Not long afterward, the Emperor and the Crown Prince boarded another carriage.

Escorted by a large contingent of Imperial Guards, the procession departed.

The convoy entered the southern part of the city, crossed the stone bridge spanning the Thames, and headed toward the south bank.

The Minister of War turned to the Prime Minister.

"What's this about?"

Leaning against his cushion with his eyes closed, the Prime Minister replied calmly,

"No idea."

The Minister of War then looked toward the Minister of Naval Affairs but received no answer there either.

Before long, the carriages passed beyond the southern city walls, and the road became rough and uneven.

After roughly three hours of travel, they arrived at a secluded wilderness area.

To the Minister of War's astonishment, he discovered a military camp he had never known existed.

The camp's defenses were formidable.

Ditches and palisades surrounded the perimeter, while soldiers occasionally patrolled outside with hunting dogs.

The place radiated a sense of barely restrained menace.

After their identities were verified, the gates slowly opened.

Inside stood barracks, warehouses, wells, and two enormous workshops.

Soon, the carriages halted near the stables.

Following the Emperor on foot, the ministers proceeded deeper into the camp until they reached a quiet, level field.

In the distance stood a strange object.

It was thick at the rear and narrow at the front, resembling a giant metal tube.

The entire thing had been cast from bronze and reinforced with several sturdy iron bands.

The Emperor walked directly to it and ran a hand over its cold, rough surface.

"Gentlemen, this is a secret weapon developed by the Arsenal over many years. After hundreds of failures, it has finally succeeded."

"A secret weapon?"

The ministers grew even more puzzled.

The massive, cumbersome bronze cannon pointed silently toward a temporary wooden palisade erected a hundred paces away.

Even at rest, it seemed to contain a disturbing sense of latent power.

After a moment of reflection, the Emperor gestured toward a nearby earthwork shelter.

"Gentlemen, prepare yourselves."

Upon receiving the order for the test firing, two craftsmen approached carrying a bucket filled with black powder.

Using long-handled wooden scoops, they carefully poured the powder into the cannon.

Next, they loaded a heavy iron ball and inserted a fuse into the rear of the bronze barrel.

Suddenly, the wind intensified.

Overhead, the harsh cries of ravens echoed through the sky.

One of the craftsmen took a torch, lit the fuse, and immediately leapt into the nearby trench as fast as he could.

Behind him, the hissing fuse slithered like a venomous serpent, racing into the small ignition hole at the cannon's rear.

Then—

A thunderclap shook the world.

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