by David Capel
“Perhaps not,” I replied, “but I thought it politic to come and pay my respects nonetheless. And also to give you this.” I pulled out the letter from the Patriarch Aemilian and handed it to him. “A message from Antioch.”
He glanced at me sharply as he pulled the purple ribbon that held the scroll together and unrolled it.
I have to say that the old Patriarch had surpassed my expectations. He was clearly far more skilled in the art of political subterfuge than he had let on. The letter was headed with the patriarchal seal of St Peter and appointed me as a special plenipotentiary of the Patriarch escorting the treasured relics to his colleagues in the City. It invited all Imperial officials to afford me their assistance, and specifically placed me under his protection, and that of the church generally.
The letter was addressed to Nikephoritzes in his capacity as Chamberlain to the Imperial person. There was no hint of malice or any personal animus in the missive. It simply recommended me to him, as if the eunuch was the natural official who should be notified of my mission.
But at the end there was a twist. It stated simply that I had shared important information about the conduct of the recent and ongoing conflict with the Patriarch Aemilian, and that Nicephorus could be confident that the information would be carefully guarded by him. That was all.
Nikephoritzes finished reading the letter and looked up at me. “What is this supposed to mean?” he asked, his hands trembling as he pointed the scroll at me.
I shrugged.
“Simply this, I presume. I have no immediate proof of your … proposed dealings with me once I’d reached Trebizond. Nor of the other plans contained within the letter that you entrusted to me. But of course, the knowledge of it has not disappeared. So I assume that the Patriarch is telling you this in his own words. It is safe in his hands, as it is in mine, so long as … nothing should go wrong, shall we say”.
He stared at me for a long while, and I stared back, my heart pounding as I tried to maintain my composure.
“And what, John, if the Patriarch Aemilian dies? He is, after all, an old man.” The eunuch had recovered his poise, more confident now that I discussed his secret openly. But I shrugged my shoulders once more.
“He may well, I suppose. And so may one or two of the others that share this information. Predecease me, I mean. But that is the way of the world. So long as there is nothing ... untoward about it, there is no need for that to be of great concern. For my part, I want no more to do with these matters. For I do not seek to use this knowledge against you, nor to gain anything from you. I have no interest in your affairs, or really of those of the Imperial court. Not from a political point of view. I am a man. And I need you not, just as you need fear me not.”
He looked at me wide eyed.
“So you swear that what …. what you thought you saw in that letter, you will not seek to make capital of?”
“If you wish it, I do so swear.”
“Good. Go then. And I say to you that you would do well to avoid affairs of state. But I have a suspicion that you will become embroiled in such matters, as I have done. And in that case good luck! Somehow I think you will need it.”
**
I had not known what to expect from the summons of Alexius Comnenus. It came later in the day of my visit to Nikephoritzes, and my nerves were already taught after my risky bargaining at Blachernae. I wanted to lie low and remove myself from the world of generals and war, and high politics. So I groaned at the official letter that was delivered to our house and passed to me by Demetrius.
I recognised the seal at once, since it stood at the head of my own letter of commission. For of course Alexius was my senior officer. I had not relinquished (or been relived of) my army rank, and so could not ignore the summons. Not that it would have been wise to do so. I was treading a fine balance between resuming my old, unobtrusive life, and trying to ensure that the powers that be did not try either to pry too carefully into my new found wealth, or to entangle me once more in their plots. And to deal with the potential predator you cannot run and hide. You must confront him and persuade him that you are not worth the trouble.
The house of the Comneni was also near the Golden Horn, but further east, not far from the Monastery of the All-Powerful God. I approached it with trepidation. What had been the role of Alexius in the recent coup and dethronement of Romanus? I had not heard much about him, so it seemed that he was not central to the plot. But in a way this made his position harder to read, and my own therefore harder to calibrate.
But a far worse predicament was how I was going to handle the issue of Alexius’ Antiochene contact Artabazus and the message he had carried.
I decided to play the role of the honourable mute. I would cast the blame firmly on Bryennius by implication, but I would not accuse him of murder – simply deny seeing any document, and report that it was for Bryennius to explain the man’s disappearance. A man must account for his own crimes.
It was a line that I hoped would work, but it would take composure to bring it off.
“My dear fellow, how are you?” said the general, striding towards me with open arms moments after I had been admitted to his house.
He grabbed me by the shoulders with outstretched hands, beaming and looking me up and down. I had forgotten how magnetic his manner was. It was impossible not to grin back.
“You have become a man!” he exclaimed. “Or rather a soldier. We have of course heard about your exploits in the East. Word had come to me of your flight from among the heathen and your safe return to the City. I gave thanks for your deliverance. I would have counted it a miracle if I did not already know you for a resourceful rascal!” and he laughed, without a side, as far as I could tell.
It is characteristic of the great that they affect to know you better that they possibly could. But it is almost impossible to resist the flattery, so I laughed in turn, gabbling something about it being a fine trip, for immediately he had put me at my ease.
I was relieved. There was no apparent suspicion or hostility at the failure of my errand. He led me down the corridor towards the centre of the house, congratulating me on my exploits.
“I would have welcomed you on your return in person, for your story is a rare glimmer of light in these times of trouble. I have heard that you brought valuable gifts from the East for the edification of the holy church.”
I cringed briefly at this reference to my ill-gotten gains, but luckily he changed tack almost immediately.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I have asked someone to join us. We have much to discuss and plan, and three heads are better than two.”
“Of course,” I said puzzled, and he pushed open the door to a large library. The sun streamed in through three latticed windows to the South, and the room was lined with shelves containing scrolls and books, and littered with divans and chairs. It was a comfortable, welcoming room, of the kind that you could spend days in, reading and receiving learned friends. Ibn Khalid would have loved it.
But in an instant this impression was wiped from my mind by the sight of the man who stood in the middle of the room, just turning to face us.
It was Bryennius.
All my composure fled out of those windows in a flash, and I gaped at him in stupid consternation. I could not believe that he was here, though in truth there was perhaps no great surprise since he had served – or was serving – on Comnenus’ staff. But the warmth of my welcome, followed by this shock, completely threw me. It must be some kind of trick. In which case my life might be in danger. I recalled the ghastly fight by the little church, and his subsequent pursuit of me in Trebizond.
Such were the thoughts that darted through my mind as I stared at him in confusion and sudden fear.
By contrast he took the meeting in suave nonchalance, a smile breaking out on his narrow face as he held up his hand in greeting.
“My dear John Lascaris, how wonderful to see you,” said Bryennius with apparent warmth as he stepped towards me.<
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I could think of nothing to say, and looked instead at Alexius who was smiling still, looking from one of us to the other. Then the general burst out laughing.
“Good Lord, John, you look almost as if you have seen a ghost.”
“I… well, I…”
“No doubt meeting Bryennius here was the last thing on your mind,” he continued. The good thing about the powerful is that they cannot stop talking. “And indeed from what I hear you parted from each other in the most … unusual circumstances. But at this stage I must leave you briefly. For Bryennius has asked that he be left alone with you for a few moments to offer you a private apology. I will be back shortly and we will begin our discussion in earnest.”
And with that, to my horror, Alexius turned and left the room, closing the door behind him.
I turned to face my enemy, cursing the fact that I had brought no weapon with me. But Bryennius, seeing my stance, stepped back and dropped into a chair near one of the windows.
“John Lascaris!” he exclaimed, laughing, “you really do start at phantoms. No, I should not put it like that. For of course you have good cause not to trust me. And for that I do indeed apologise. Please, take a seat, for I owe you an explanation as well.”
“What in Heaven’s name are you doing here?” I growled, standing my ground.
“I’ve come to see you, of course,” he replied, languid and relaxed, with a smile still flickering on his lips.
“What about?”
“Well, we have to get our story straight, obviously,” said he, infuriatingly. With every utterance he confused me more. “I would have preferred to catch you before you came here, but I was away from the City when I heard of your arrival. As it is I have got to you only just in time, and even so we must be quick to agree our approach before Comnenus comes blundering in again. I had to make up some nonsense story to get you alone, but he won’t give us long.”
I was flabbergasted at his presumption, but perhaps it was not so surprising when I considered it. “You want me to cover your tracks? You’re the one who murdered his friend, not me. It’s you who has to do the explaining around here!”
“Hmm, I’m not sure about that. These mystery relics you brought back from Antioch. I’d wager there’s a story there that Comnenus would be interested in if he were prompted to do a little digging. But that’s by the by. It’s true I am as guilty as you. Perhaps more so. But at least I have a convincing explanation for that.”
“Oh really? And what is that? I’d be most interested to hear a good excuse for murder and high treason. Though I suppose you don’t need one now that your friends are in power.”
“Ha!” he exclaimed bitterly and stood up. “That’s the point. They are not.” The smile had vanished from his face and he strode to the window and looked out briefly before turning to me. “That’s what I need to explain. You see it is I who thought that you were the traitor. And Alexius too, for that matter.”
This threw me completely and I spluttered in indignation. “What do you mean?”
Bryennius looked me at me steadily. “I am… was … loyal to Empire and Emperor. In fact I was one of Diogenes’ close confidants. He and I both knew of the hostility of the Caesar John Ducas and his family. So did everybody else. And while we did not know of any plot specifically, it made sense to try to anticipate such a betrayal.”
“What?” I replied, incredulous. “So that’s why you attack and pursue me, who have nothing to do with them? That is why you killed that man in the church? I’m afraid you’re going to have to do better than this, Bryennius.”
“But, you see, I did not attack you, as you will recall if you think back carefully. It was the other way round. I did pursue you, and yes, I thought that Alexius’ messenger might be part of it. My assumption was that you were all in it together. The Emperor had sent me to Alexius’ camp to keep an eye on him. Was he not a friend – some say more than that – of Maria Alania, Michael’s husband and Caesar John’s niece by marriage? Was he not there, at Cyzicus, building up a new force of men, loyal only to him? Of course it might have been entirely innocent. But at the time it seemed prudent at least to stay watchful of this ambitious young general.”
He smiled and started pacing to and fro in front of the windows. “And then you came along, carrying messages from, or at least having recently seen, both Maria and Nikephoritzes. Your friendship with the Empress is well known. Then Alexius sends you on some mysterious secret errand to Asia. To me it seemed cut and dried that you were all up to no good. Which, of course, you were, though not with the evil intent that I at first suspected.”
“I’m not buying this,” I retorted. “Why then did you chase after me in Trebizond, in league with Gabras and his people there? They were partisans of Nikephoritzes, as I read myself. And the doorman, what was his name?” I snapped my fingers. “Armanis. He mentioned you almost as soon as I told him about the letter.”
“They were indeed allies,” retorted Bryennius. “Still are. But by that stage I had realised you were an unwitting agent in all of this. I arrived shortly after you at the governor’s palace. It was clear that they meant you harm. So I played along, pretending to be in on the plot, but the next day attempted to intercept you to save you. To be sure, my priority was finding out what the plotters had in mind, for I knew of the letter you were carrying. But you arrived rather early, if you recall, and fled before I could speak to you.”
I frowned, trying to remember the sequence of events in Trebizond – my flight from the palace and desperate escape from the roof of the great church there. Mention of Bryennius had indeed led me to assume that he was in league with the plotters. In fact it had been Armanis’ mention of his name that had prompted me to tear open the letter and discover my intended fate. But what had Bryennius shouted at me as I crawled on the balcony above the nave? That I would be safe with him, or some such, and that this was not what it seemed. He had seemed almost desperate, and that fitted his current tale. But immediately I saw a flaw in his story.
“If you knew about the letter, why did you not try to take it from me on the road? Besides, you must have known its content. You told me I was carrying a death warrant!”
It was his turn to frown in puzzlement. “Did I say that? I must have meant it figuratively. All such errands can end in the noose. But yes, I would have taken the letter, after the meeting with Artabazes. Or at least I would have tried to persuade you to give it to me. You see I thought the two threads were intertwined. Now I am convinced of Alexius’ innocence. So I assume that Artabazus had nothing to do with all this.” Then seeing my look he held up his hands. “And no, I don’t want to know what his message was all about. That is my offer to you! Disinterest in your subsequent … discoveries in Antioch.”
I was speechless, trying to digest what he was saying to me and how to react. He continued.
“But there is something else. Your behaviour on the road. You did not have the manner of the spy and the traitor. You were … how should I put it … both too carefree and too afraid. No, don’t start! I began to build some respect for you. The way you handled that Turk for instance. I started to doubt that you were an accomplice in all this, or at least a willing one. For example, at one stage you wanted to abandon the meeting with Artabazes altogether, which puzzled me mightily, I can assure you. I played along to see what you would do. In the end you changed your mind. This was not the behaviour of a spy. So I hoped to persuade you to tell me what you knew, once it became clear what this meeting in Cilicia was all about.”
“And Alexius’ man was not obliging?” I interjected sarcastically.
“No he wasn’t. And nor were you, of course. He had instructions to deal just with you, and was very hostile. So I had to act. We disagreed, and it ended in violence. I now regret it of course, not least because of the ... impression it gave you.”
“So now you attempt to persuade me that you were on the side of the angels after all. How am I expected to believe this?”
&
nbsp; “I would say to you this. You know now of my behaviour at Manzikert. The Emperor placed me in command of the left wing. I was high in his trust. The troops under my command fought well. Need I say more? If I were in on the plot, I would have fled like that coward Andronicus.”
There was no answering him. I had puzzled over this. Not just the lack of mention of Bryennius (or Comnenus for that matter) in any of my own intelligence of the Ducas plot. But Bryennius had by all accounts indeed fought well at Manzikert. It all fitted.
I strode over and sat in the chair he had vacated. It was not that I believed him now. I did not know what to believe. Either version of his story was plausible. But it made me feel weary. I had had enough of these affairs and wanted only to escape them. But it seemed he wanted to enmesh me further. And another thought struck me that depressed me deeply.
“Are you saying that this is my fault? If I had given you the letter, or knowledge of the plot, you might have been able to forestall it.”
He shook his head regretfully. And it was at this moment I think that the balance of doubt in my mind began to swing in his favour.
“It is not as simple as that,” he said. “I have to admit that I cursed you as I rode east to join the Emperor after your escape from Trebizond. But of course the fact that you fled me was partly my own fault. So if anything we were both to blame. Would it have made a difference if we had presented the evidence of the plot to Romanus Diogenes before the battle? Possibly, but I doubt it. You see, I already knew that something was afoot, and he needed no warning about the Ducas threat. But Andronicus was there, and insisted on a senior command. We could not be sure of the full loyalty of some of the other commanders if we had arrested him or otherwise tried to disable him. We did our best by putting him in command of the rear. He wanted to command the left wing, which would have been an even greater disaster.
But in truth the Roman army would probably have lost the battle anyway. You were there yourself. Do you think we were properly equipped and ready to deal with the Turk?”