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Posted By: Sargon Jan 10, 2005 - 01:06 am

Hey, this is the 2nd draft of a project I've been working on, to help description, please tell me what you think about it


Ruin


The thatch and wood on the roofs of the poorer houses was first to burn.
The great city of Constantinople towered over all before it, austere and proud. Its bleak menacing walls surrounded the opulent citadels to the west and the villas of the richer people, while the winding slums of the poor twisted and turned to the east. Dominating the scene upon a high hill rose the castle of their Emperor, the Byzantine flag flying proud in the late autumn wind, and beneath it another one, one that had a red cross upon a white field. The fourth crusade, returning unsuccessfully from trying to conquer the Holy Land, sheltered here, and the Emperor was sharing his meat and mead with them. The walls themselves were solid stone, ten feet thick and a hundred high. The only gaps in the rock were murder holes from which to pour boiling oil, rocks, spears and whatever came to hand against enemies, not to mention the ballistae and catapults that kept their watch on the parapet manned by alert guardsmen – for these were treacherous times, as other places had found out to their woe- it was a besieger’s worst nightmare. At the North, lay the mountains, almost impossible to cross in summer, let alone winter. No enemy ever came from that quarter. The south was the sea, and the Byzantine fleet was the finest that had ever been known. East and west was part of their Empire, so on this dreamy night, in its capital city, all seemed well. The turrets were golden sunbursts as the last light of the evening faded into the west, against the stony background of marble and granite. But inside the city, another light had been kindled.
At first it was thought to be another small fire, as wood is wont to burn when there is fire nearby. Already bucket chains had been set up from the wharves by citizens. They were without arms or armour, so when the first were put to the sword, they died quickly enough.
Soldiers were beginning to pour onto the streets. In chainmail and in plate, on foot or on horseback, they carried burning brands and brayed in many languages to each other. Many wore the cross of the crusader on surcoat, breastplate or helm. One drew his sword and, wrenching open the unlocked door of a jeweller, entered in. Screams, of men, women and children filled the air and the man reappeared, his arms, wrist, throat, head –indeed any part of him that could be covered- was bedecked in rich finery. His sword was garbed too, in a sodden scarlet robe that ran down its fuller.
The fires spread, the wind pushing it into laces, then ribbons, then ropes of flames that raced over the cobbled streets like a living thing and conglomerated into one huge conflagration of death and ruin. The hovels quickly became fiery huts of screams, the pitch that mortared together the wooden beams adding to the inferno, which made the houses turn into so much ash blown on the wind of the raging firestorm.
The stone buildings were a harder prospect. Strong as the flames were the rocks that made the walls of the richer parts of the capital city of the Byzantines stood strong, and the flickering tongues and fingers that stormed against them only blackened the buildings. Flesh was easier, so any person unfortunate or foolish enough to be in the direction the fires were spreading was made into sizzling flesh that smoked like any hog on a spit. The rich mingled with the poor and the and the studded gemstones woven intricately into silk robes melted and ran with the charred hair of the corpses, often blending with the hose of a poorer man – though not inferior now, as Death saw only equals.
The libraries might have survived, keeping all the erudition and history sheltering in its dark interior, full of sagas, theology and philosophy, if not for the dry moss and firewood and tar smeared over their foundations. As it were, all turned to kindling.
In the shrines to God, both Orthodox and Catholic, many huddled. They were people grasping whatever keepsakes they had carried from their blasted homes, huddling before the picture of God’s Son lying in agony upon the Cross. Soldiers were amongst them, stripped of their armour, running from the men that had slit the throat of their friends while there had still been peace in this city. Others sat there, struck dumb or inconsolable with weeping, the infirm, the young and the wounded. Many of them believed hopefully that sheltered in a place of holiness such as this, the foreign barbarians that had been welcomed into the walls and had repaid them by burning the city down would at least leave the churches untouched. Surely they would not raze the very places for which they had set out. Their luck ran ill. The fire could not be stopped, and when the crusaders saw the churches burning, asking their leaders if to rescue those that were of the same faith as they, their reply was thus: “God shall know the believer from the heretic. When all reach the gates of heaven, He shall set the wheat from the chaff.”
By the wharves, demons of yellow and crimson hue danced in blazing ecstasy and cremated ships with sweeps of the lash. Sails were lit with ghostly haloes, rigging with circlets, jewels that were beautiful to wear but your skin would take flame under them.
Now in the city few things moved, or at least, few things that were alive. A horse galloped and skittered away mane ablaze. From the prisons, ravens flew in distress, leaving the souls of the dammed behind them. Lizards hid into dark holes, sharing the spaces with their brethren – and sometimes a man or woman or child, who lay sobbing in the dirt and prayed for the end to come.
From the western gate towards the province of Greece, a loose knot of stragglers struggled from out the city. These people lucky enough to escape the destruction behind them faced a long trek to find sanctuary and sustenance. Nothing was left for them inside the city. The grandest city of the Byzantium Empire was reduced to a husk, a shell. The Emperor surveyed this sad scene for one moment, and then turned away. A king cannot cry, where his people can see him. He urged his horse forward, one of the few beasts to survive, his palsied hands shaking with the reins, and his once fine features were ashen with shock where they hadn’t been soot-blackened. Off they went, into the night.
Over to the east side of ruined Constantinople, the crusaders watched them depart. Long had the baggage trains had been prepared for this, and the carts and wagons rumbled as they moved. The moonlight caught their fine armour, enamelled and damascened and festooned with the plundered treasure of a city. A sound rose off as they moved. It was the noise of the laughter, and it was like the screams of Hell.

Posted By: talisman Jan 14, 2005 - 02:32 am

Very well written indeed.

Particularly in the second half, your writing really flows well and the description is rich and varied. It makes for an enjoyable read.

My only general comment would be to read through (especially the first half) and look for missing words or places where plurals should have been used. I think I noticed a few sentences and words which didn't quite sound right.

One sentence in particular, I tried re-working. I think it was too long and somewhat disjointed.

<< The only gaps in the rock were murder holes from which to pour boiling oil, rocks, spears and whatever came to hand against enemies, not to mention the ballistae and catapults that kept their watch on the parapet manned by alert guardsmen – for these were treacherous times, as other places had found out to their woe- it was a besieger’s worst nightmare.

My suggestions:

The only gaps in the rock were murder holes through which boiling oil could be poured [scalding helpless men below] and heavy rocks and sharp spears could be hurled. Alert guardsmen kept watch from the parapet, with balistae and catapults read to launch [their deadly hail on the enemy.] These were treacherous times [and] as other places had found out to their woe, [this/it] was a besieger’s worst nightmare.

And in this sentence, I don't think the comma is needed.

<< A king cannot cry, where his people can see him

Thanks for sharing. Keep writing