If Justinian was nervous, Brother Elpidios, I have to tell you I was about ten times worse than that. The Sklavenoi were screeching and shrieking louder than anything you can imagine. Boys- maybe girls, too, for all I know- kept running up and bringing them bundles of javelins and whole great sheaves of arrows.
I was in the front rank as we marched up to the wagons. That's what I got for being an officer, that and a fancier shield and a helmet with a tuft of red-dyed horsehair sticking up out of the top. So the Sklavenoi didn't want to kill me just on account of I was there, the way they did your ordinary excubitores. They especially wanted to kill me because I was close to 'em and I looked important. Lucky me.
By the time we got near enough their wagons for the clever lads with the liquid fire to do their work, my fancy shield had so many javelins and arrows stuck in it, it looked like it was practicing to be a hedgehog. One javelin hit me square in the chest, but my mailshirt- Mother of God, thank you- didn't let it through. And a couple of arrows clattered off my helmet, too.
Some good men weren't so lucky. My chum Anastasios, who'd eaten beans with me ever since I joined the imperial guards, took an arrow right in the eye. Like I told Justinian, not the worst way to go. He never knew what hit him, anyhow- that one would have killed him whether it was poisoned or not. And he was far from the only one who fell, too.
The biggest thing we had going for us was that the Sklavenoi didn't know-
What? Justinian says the same thing? All right, then, tell me what he says. He'll probably put it better than I could, anyway.