The Alchemist's Revenge

by Martin Archer

  What I realized as I sat there with my bowl of ale was that the Company of Archers which I had the honour to lead was quite similar to the Latin Church led by the Pope. And they were similar when a man thought about them and compared them—the Church competed with the Moslems and the Orthodox Church led by the Patriarch to collect coins from people in need of someone to tell them what God wanted them to do; the Company competed with the Venetians and others to collect coins from merchants and passengers in need of someone to safely carry their bodies, cargos, and money orders from Christian ports to wherever they wanted them to be taken.

  The problem, of course, was that there were only so many coins in the world—and we all wanted them and were willing to fight for them in one way or another.

  Just the thought that my company was very much like the Pope’s church and the devious and untrustworthy Venetians was enough to give me a pain behind my eyes. As you might imagine, I quickly called for another bowl of ale and settled in for an evening of drinking and thinking about my company and its future. Truth be told, I hoped it would distract me from thinking about women all the time—something, to my great surprise, I had been doing more and more frequently since I received word of the pox taking poor Becky.

  I had a bowl of ale lifted halfway to my mouth a few minutes later when the door opened and Elizabeth slipped into the room.

  “Drinking again, are you?”

  She was beginning to sound like a wife.

  “And a good hoy to you too, Elizabeth. Would you care for a bowl?”

  ******

  The pounding on my door the next morning woke me from a sound sleep. The space next to me on the bed was empty and the familiar light of early morning was filtering into the room from the cracks around the window shutters. Elizabeth was gone so it was unlikely to be her mother.

  “Commander,” … “Are you awake commander?” … “A courier has just ridden in from Lieutenant Commander Ryder with urgent news.”

  I recognized the voice. It was my senior aide himself, Major Captain Michael Oremus, and he sounded out of breath. Something important must have happened to cause him to get up while it was still dark and ride here to tell me about it instead of sending a messenger.

  “Come in Michael. The door is not barred.” Damn, I must have overslept. I invited him in as I rolled over and put my feet on the stone floor. It was cold and I needed to pee.

  “A courier has come in from Richard Ryder, Commander. He says the van of the Greek Army is now moving faster for some reason and is likely to reach the city in the next day or two. He said he had one more horse company’s supply wagon to relocate, and then he would be riding in ahead of the Greeks.”

  “Thank you, Michael. I will be along shortly. Please return to the Commandery and tell everyone it will be a normal day for everyone since it will be at least two or three days before the Greeks can arrive with enough men to give us much trouble.” Unless, of course, they sweep right in on an attack and the city rises behind us.

  “Oh yes. On the way out would you please find Elspeth, the Empress’s maid, and ask her to find my father and ask him to meet me in the Citadel’s eating hall. I am going there to break my fast there instead of immediately riding to the Commandery. With a little luck, of course, my father will already be there himself.”

  What I did not explain to Michael was that I was going to the eating hall so that I would be seen breaking my fast as I had not a care in the world. It was important, I had decided, that word get around that the news of the imminent arrival of the Greek army did not distress me; it would hearten the Empress’s supporters and confuse her enemies.

  “Also, please tell the captain of my guard company that I will be breaking my fast in the Citadel’s eating hall and that he and the men can come in and eat there instead of waiting until we get to the Commandery.”

  Michael knuckled his forehead and left. I began whistling one of the Company’s jolly tunes under my breath and getting ready for the day; meaning I put on my rusty chain shirt and my wrist knives, and then slipped my hooded archer’s tunic over them. The tunic did not hide the fact that I was wearing chain, but it certainly hid my wrist knives.

  To my great surprise, I felt excited and wide awake. The waiting was almost over. I also noticed that the day was already quite warm. It would be another scorcher

  ****** Commander George Courtenay

  My recently un-retired father was sitting at the sitting at the Citadel’s long wooden table breaking his fast. His back was to me but I recognized his long white hair and hooded archer’s tunic immediately. The men sitting around him were a motley crew of the court’s courtiers, ambassadors, and visiting lords who had wandered in for the free food. They were sitting with him because they saw an opportunity to talk with someone who might know what was going to happen next and how soon it might occur.

  The men sitting across from him looked up expectantly as I approached.

  “A good hoy to all,” I said happily as I walked up to my father rubbing my hands together gleefully. He had seen the men sitting across from him look up and turned to see what or who had grabbed their attention. So did just about everyone else in the room. The buzz of talking in the hall died away almost completely by the time I reached him. The man sitting next to him scooted over to make room for me to sit.

  “There is good news today,” I said rather enthusiastically, and a little louder than necessary, as I slid my leg over the wooden bench and prepared to sit down next to my father. I said it knowing that within an hour or two whatever I said would sweep across the city by word of mouth.

  “I just got word from Richard that the Greek army is finally approaching. They are all strung out as a result of the beating they took in the mountains, but at least some of them are coming, thank God!

  “Our men will certainly be pleased. They were beginning to worry that Richard and his horse archers had scared them off such that they would not share any prize money for taking the Greeks’ armour and swords off them.”

  What I said, of course, was a lie intended to mislead the people of the city and the Latin lords who were still undecided as to who to support. Our men were not stupid; used armour and weapons rarely brought much in the way of prize money to an archer with only one or two stripes on his tunic.

  “The Greeks are here?” one of the men asked as if he could not believe what he had just heard. He was well-dressed, but I could not place him.

  “Aye, Your Lordship, and it is about time. My lads are getting anxious to see them off. And so am I for that matter—the sooner we finish them off, the sooner we can sell their armour and weapons and get back to our families. It will take time, of course, but the outcome is certain.”

  One of men sitting at the table was not convinced. It was the French ambassador, a rather sour-faced fellow and newly arrived.

  “So you say, English Commander, so you say. But I am told that there are a great number of soldiers in the Greek army, well over one hundred thousand of them is the number I heard—so it looks to me as though the Empress’s forces are hopelessly outnumbered and the Greeks will either starve out the city or come over the walls and kill or take for a slave every man who was foolish enough to stand against them.”

  Of which you will not be one, George thought to himself as he faked a look of astonishment and replied.

  “Nonsense, Ambassador, sheer nonsense. Your fears are groundless. You are safe. The Greek army is not even here yet and they have already lost a third of their army to a few hundred or so Englishmen who rode out to challenge them in the mountains. Badly led, badly equipped, and badly learnt to fight is what the Greeks are, eh? In other words, the Greek army is an inconvenience, not a problem.”

  Everything I said was somewhat true, of course. What I did not say was that the Greeks would now only outnumber us by at least forty or fifty to one and most of their losses in the mountains had been due to the cold weather.

  Chapter Two

  Hearts and minds.
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br />   My personal guard was an entire company of horse archers, all sixteen of them. Thomas Fiennes was their captain. They were newly arrived from England and had been ordered to stay close to me whenever I was out of the Citadel. I did not really want them or need them, but it was not worth arguing about since the Empress herself had ordered them to be with me whenever I was out in public. That was after I had been captured and injured by the former Venetian ambassador and a couple of the Empress’s traitorous Latin lords whilst riding alone in the city.

  I did for them myself with my hidden wrist knives, the Venetian ambassador and the traitors that is, when I got myself free and made my escape. And my father did his part after the Empress’s axe-men found me bloodied and staggering down the street by taking off the head of the barber who had started to bleed me to help me recover from my wounds. It further endeared him to me.

  Being captured and desperately fighting to break free was an experience I would not want anyone to have to repeat, although I did appreciate the Empress’s daughter, Elizabeth, for moving me into her room to help me recover.

  She did so, moved me that is, because my room was unsuitable for use as recovery room for a wounded man. It was a mess because the barber whose head my dear father had cut off had bled a lot of blood. Great puddles of it is how Elizabeth described it to me when I finally woke up. She and her mother had never seen such a sight and had apparently been quite excited by it.

  Truth be told, and even though I claimed and acted as though they were an unnecessary bother, I was glad to have Captain Fiennes and his horse archers with me when I was out and about, at least some of them. Constantinople was a damn dangerous city for an Englishman. It was almost as bad as the outskirts of London up around Saint Peter’s Abbey where the lepers and cutpurses still congregate to this very day.

  ******

  Richard Ryder rode in today with his apprentice sergeant and four of his horse archers just as the sun was high overhead on its daily voyage around the world. It was a hot mid-summer day.

  It was the second time Richard had ridden in since the Venetian transports carried part of the Greek army to Adrianople. The first time was when I was taken prisoner and Richard had been hurriedly summoned back to assume command of the Company. He had waited until I got back on my feet, and then rode back out to re-join his horse archers in the mountains that separated the Latin Empire from the Greek states.

  I heard the noise and commotion as Richard and his men rode into the Commandery’s bailey and walked out to see what was causing it. It was a nice early morning despite the relentless summer sun. More than a little warm, perhaps, but nice. There were a number of cats stretched out enjoying the sun or scratching in the dirt for a place to shite. The city was full of them.

  Richard and the six men with him were leading their saddled remounts and looked ragged, filthy, and saddle sore—and quite satisfied with themselves and in fine good cheer. They were clearly pleased to be back in the big city with all its delights.

  “Hoy Richard. It is good to see you safely returned,”

  I shouted out my welcome as I walked briskly up to Richard with my hand outstretched and a big smile on my face—and I truly meant it. Richard was a good friend from our days together as the first students in my Uncle Thomas’s school for boys at Restormel Castle.

  “Hoy George. It is good to see you too. You heard the Greeks were almost here, did you?” he asked as he swung down from his horse and we gave each other the handshakes and great manly hugs and backslappings that are a tradition of the Company when its captains and commanders meet after a long separation or a successful battle.

  “Aye. That I did. Both of your messengers got through. What is the latest? How soon do you think the first of the Greeks will get here?” I was full of questions.

  “Their advance party is only about a hundred or so mounted men. They could arrive in a few hours unless they turn back, which is what I expect they will do unless they are poorly led, which is also a possibility from what I have seen so far.

  “We bumped into them south of the little village by the river, the one with the mill. They are fairly well mounted, but riding with no spare horses. My lads and I pulled a “wounded bird” on them and culled a half dozen or so of their thrusters when they took the bait and chased after us, so they may have turned back.

  “It matters not, however, as the main column of the Greeks carried by the Venetians are on foot and not likely to start arriving here in force for several days at the very earliest, perhaps even longer.”

  “And the rest of your horse companies? Any news of them?”

  “Hanging like wolves all along the flanks of the Greek column to whittle it down and delay them. Of that you can be sure. But here is the thing, George—the size of the main Greek column is too small, only thirty or forty thousand men by my estimate, and not many horsemen. I know for sure they lost a lot of men and horses in the mountains, but not that many.

  “What I think is that the Greeks marching towards us are probably only the men the Venetians carried to Adrianople. The main body of the Greek army is either walking down the coastal road to Adrianople, or the Venetian transports have sailed back to carry another load. Maybe both. Either way, the main strength of the Greek army is probably just setting out from Adrianople about now. It will be several weeks, at least, before they arrive.”

  “Well, that is certainly good news if it turns out to be true. It means the Greeks are going to miss a good part of the campaigning season and will have less time to prepare an attack the city before returning to their farms to bring in the harvest.”

  “Aye, it is. It also means the Greeks will be strung out and easier for our horse archers to get at.” I appreciated that Richard said “our” horse archers instead of “my” horse archers; he is a company man through and through.

  “Richard,” I responded after I thought about what he had said. “Do you have any idea why the men carried by the Venetians did not wait in Adrianople so the Greeks could march on us all together at the same time? Or why they were in such a big hurry to get some of their men here that they used the Venetian transports instead of marching?”

  “No. But you are right. That is a bit strange. I would have thought that they would have all marched together and arrived at the same time. It must mean something that some of them are hurrying to get here before the others. It could be that they are over-confident for some reason, or perhaps they just want to get started on their siege preparations.” It turned out to be something else entirely, but we did not know it at the time.

  “Aye, that could be it. They may be wanting to get started so they can take the city in time to get their men back to their farms to bring in this year’s harvest—but somehow I think it must be more than that. But what?”

  Then, after a pause while we both pondered about the various possibilities, I added more.

  “Ah well; we will know soon enough, I suspect. And if the Greeks succeed, it certainly will not be your fault, Richard. Stopping them in the mountains so the cold would take some of them was brilliant.”

  Actually, it only started out to be a brilliant move. He ended up letting many of them get away, and he and I both know it even if the men do not and never will.

  ****** George Courtenay

  Richard and I walked into the Commandery together and talked as he and his men enjoyed a hastily prepared meal of flatbread, burnt meat strips, cheese, and morning ale. They had been riding almost constantly since yesterday afternoon and were famished and thirsty, but full of talk as to how they led the Greek riders to chase after them and almost catch them.

  It had been a classic wounded bird of the type used by both our horsemen and galleys. Richard and his outnumbered men had pretended to be fearful and easy to catch such that the Greeks were enticed to gallop after them. The chase continued with the Greeks continuing to almost catch them until the Greek riders were strung out on tired and faltering horses, at which point Richard and his men had switched t
o the fresh horses they were leading and turned back to roll up the Greeks by putting arrows into their horses and backs.

  While Richard and I ate, runners were sent out to all of the Company’s available lieutenant commanders and major captains inviting them to join us. They soon arrived and so did Eric, the commander of the Empress’s axe-carrying Rus and Viking guards.

  Eric’s men were called Varangians. They were the Empress’s personal guards and served as the city’s night watch. More importantly, they were ferocious fighters and the only men we could depend on as allies in the fighting that was sure to come with the Greeks and their mercenaries. At least that was what we thought at the time.

  Our conversation continued for hours and covered everything from the recruitment of more auxiliaries to serve in our galley companies and the use of the state forces that had come in to help defend the city, to what must be said about our chances for success and victory—that everyone must be extremely optimistic about our prospects at all times in order to encourage the lords and armies of the Empress’s vassal states to stay loyal to her, and to encourage the city’s people not to decide against her and attack us from behind.

  Indeed, the city’s people were more important than the Latin lords—because most of them were Greek gobblers and relied on the Orthodox Church to tell them how to lead their lives and sell them indulgences. We understood that both the Company and the Empress would be in serious trouble if her vassal states rose against her and her subjects living in the city attacked us from the rear whilst we were fighting on the city wall against the Greek army. It was, unfortunately, a very real possibility.