Crescent Moons

"How much for the sword, señor?" Anibal urged the old man sitting in the floor, who's stared back at the handsome man with a hint of confusion. "Anything. I want it."

"Milord... I..."

"Here! Take all of it!" Anibal handed him a sack of coins that clanked as placed on the elder's hands. He only nodded, accepting the coins while handing the sword to Anibal.

Weapon in hand, Anibal stood by the veranda at La Seu Vella. Down in the plaza, the light of the torches and the full moon above gleamed, reflecting on the crusaders' metallic armors and shields. Taking a look at his rustic blade, nothing compared to the gilded Arabic sables he owned, back before the Moors broke in his villa a few days ago, he sighed. It would serve for the purpose he bought it, kill some of those bastards.

Memories tasted bitter now, but revenge pumped acidly and sweet, like cider, in his veins. This time, the tormenting scenes of the vicious murder of his wife and son, blindfolded him and pushed him to take the reckless decision. Gripping tightly the sword, Anibal scampered down the hill towards the Cathedral's walls, where the soldiers formed to fight the Benimerines.

"Wait, Don Anibal! What are you doing here?" A soldier stopped him at the gate.

"Just let me pass, soldier." Anibal replied determined.

"I can't let you pass señor! There are specific orders to keep these gates closed to protect the lives of the citizens of Lerida."

"But that's what I'm here for! Look, soldado, I serve of no purpose there, hiding with the widows and orphans behind the walls. I come to fight. See, I brought a sword..."

"I'm sorry señor, but you are not a legionnaire... I can't let you pass... go back there, heal the refugees' wounds and let the soldiers fight." Trying to put some reasoning into the medic's stubbornness, the soldier kept the gates closed.

"¿Qué pasa soldado? You are supposed to be on duty and not speaking with the civilians." A commander prompted.

"Mi comandante, I was just telling the caballero he can't leave La Seu Vella!" The legionnaire stuttered while facing the officer.

"Really? And why would Don Anibal want to cross the gate? The Studi General is closed and we are under attack, señor, if you haven't noticed yet." There was a hint of disdain in his tone.

"General... I only want to help. I even brought a sword! I can fight!

"I never thought of a scholar to be gifted in the arts or war. Are you trained in weapons?

"No... but I..."

"Well in that case I am afraid I'm forced to reject this foolish offer of yours to join my army, Don Anibal. Why don't you go with your family and let us do our work, señor?"

"My family is dead... They broke into my house in the middle of the night and killed both my wife and son!"

The general's face dropped. "I'm so sorry to hear that Don Anibal. I... I understand your grief, and anger..."

"No you don't understand! You have no idea!" Anibal looked at the man defiantly, eyes filled with tears and his voice broke in ire. "I am not a soldier but I killed that bastard with my own hands after he murdered my wife... and I can kill a few more... General, you need men and I am willing to do this for..."

"Revenge!" The general completed the sentence, his lips arched a mischievous grin. Anibal nodded with a stoic expression. "Fine. But we won't babysit after you, señor. You better watch your own back. Kill a few of those pagans for your own pleasure! That will help Don Anibal." Speaking to the soldier next to him, "Legionnaire! Find another sword for this man. That thing will break before the first moor is stabbed!" Said that, the commander walked away.

Formed in line, everything around him had come to place; to an undeniable reality. The cries of those dying in the city, the pleads of the ones trying to make their way up to La Seu Vella, hit him hard.
Taking a look up to the Cathedral at the top of the hill to the statues of Saint Peter and the Virgin Mary, while holding his new, shiny sword, he prayed.

An explosion, startled him off his prayers. The rampant noise echoed on the city walls, a dark column of smoke rising up to the sky and the flames gleamed, leaving in awe everyone around him.

"Greek fire." Anibal whispered.

"What?" The soldier next to him asked.

"They are near."

The horns sounded, and the bell rang in La Seu Vella. The soldiers waited for the order. It was the call to battle.

The hooves of the approaching Arab horses thundered as the army marched into the city. Not a surprise attack, the al-mugāwir Army wanted to be noticed. Fear was a more powerful weapon than secrecy. The metallic clanking of their weapons sounded like a chiming call to death and destruction that night.

Anibal swallowed the heavy lump in his throat to the thundering sound of a second explosion. Thinking of the powerful weapon the Moors had in the Greek fire, the sword shook in his hands. He knew that, once the substance is ignited, it was very difficult to extinguish.

Horns were blown again right when the dark figures of the Benimerines emerged out from the dim streets of La Ciudadela.

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

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."

Spears carved with crescent moons on top shone. The Al-mugāwir army advanced, aligned in perfectly arranged rows, So neat, shockingly neat, marching in unison to a synchronized heavy thumping. Their voices, a grave humming, accentuated the compass of a dramatic entrance.

To the intimidating tactic utilized by powerful armies like this before, Anibal feared, 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, neither his mastering on the enemy's language.

The enemy was close enough then to be distinguished, not dark shadows in the night anymore. Even in the dimness of the night they, bore a regal demeanor. Dark skinned and bulk men seemed 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. They carried their long Scimitars and Nimchas hanging to their right flank as they mounted their stallions.

Altogether it was a surreal picture: fire burned on the nearby village's buildings and the full moon shone above the historical plaza of Lerida and La Seu Vella two powerful armies were there to fight; 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. With blood it would be written this chapter of history.

When The Benimerines finally stopped, the city was engulfed in a ghastly silent. Between the two armadas, stillness was choking. Anibal heard his own labored breathing and his heart hammering frantically inside his chest. 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. Al-mucaddem gave the cry for battle that sounded like a mortuary chant.

The Iberian general gave the order. "Atack!" Horns blew twice and the bell in the cathedral rang. Soldiers from both armies broke formation and ran, screaming in frenzy. Time and place were not suitable for a strategic deploy of arms. It would be a man to man combat, a fierce and dreadful confrontation.

Spanish cavalry splitter in halves, some advancing on front and half guarded the rear. Ordnance moves amidst formation, men by foot and heavily armed ready to crush the first Moor defensive line aiming to break the enemy's cavalry barrier. Amongst them, it was Anibal de Albis.

"Ataquen!" was the battle reply of the soldiers that ran to face death or victory in the night the Moors invaded Lerida.

*señor-sir
*soldado-soldier
*¿Qué pasa soldado?-What's going on here, soldier?
*Don-Mister, lord, sir
*Mi comandante-My Commander
*Ataquen-Attack