Assassins of Kantara

by James Boschert

  Talon and his men left the enemy camp as quietly as they had arrived. The rain made their exit easy: the exhausted men of the emperor’s army needed no other excuse to huddle inside their shelters, even if they did leak. But Talon and his men now had to deal with the mercenaries who had gone around the back of the castle. Mercenaries were a real danger, as they owed no allegiance to anyone other than he who could pay them the most. Talon didn’t want these men coming back to harass his people.

  They returned to the castle and found Max and his men peering cautiously over the ramparts down into the darkness below. Rain was not falling on the ridge, but the lightning and thunder continued apace.

  “Can you see anyone?” Talon asked the silent group.

  “No, but we can hear them. They are not so good as you and your men in the dark,” Max muttered. He sounded amused.

  “I suspect that they are waiting for their leaders to come and guide them,” Talon said. “If they realize that their leaders are not coming, they will head back to camp. We will meet them. Dar’an, you will remain here and deliver a message to the men below.” Dar’an grinned. He was becoming a formidable warrior.

  Talon, Reza, their archers, and some burly sailors armed with axes, long swords and pikes hurried out of the gates to the accompaniment of thunder and lightning as the storm waxed and waned over the mountains. Squalls of rain came and went; at intervals the sky would clear and the moon could be seen as the low clouds scudded past, almost at tree height. The perfect night for an ambush, Talon reflected.

  They positioned themselves in a long double line of men, with the swordsmen on the wings and the pikes in the center to protect the archers, who stood back a pace behind them, and then they waited in silence. Before very long they saw small flashes from the direction of the castle walls and heard the muted sound of the crackers going off. The men who were unfamiliar with these devilish things crossed themselves and muttered prayers, casting apprehensive looks not only in the direction of the sounds, but also at the dark shadow of their leader. Sir Talon must truly be a wizard to work this kind of magic, the men reasoned.

  Before long they all heard the sound of running feet scrabbling for purchase on the steep hillside. An urgent whisper from Reza and the archers drew their bows. The mercenaries were almost upon them before the command came. “Now!” shouted Talon, and he aimed his first arrow at one of the terrified enemy. After that it was chaos. The fleeing mercenaries were taken completely by surprise, and most fell wounded or dead in that first flurry of arrows. The remainder were cut down by the sailors, who ran at them with their axes and swords to deliver the final blows. The rolls of thunder and the rain that swept down the mountain damped the surprised screams of the wounded until death silenced them.

  When they were certain of their kill, Talon and his men loped back up the road to the castle and closed the gates.

  Dawn had barely begun to streak the eastern sky when the alarms sounded all over the camp. Horrified soldiers found their comrades with their throats cut, or with arrows protruding from their bodies. No one had heard any disruption the night before, which only added to the eeriness of the situation. Men who would otherwise have reacted in a resolute manner were terrified by what they found. Their comrades had been killed right next to them and they had not heard a thing, so they peered up at the castle looming over them, partially shrouded in early morning mist, and were filled with fear. No one, not even the emperor’s steward, dared approach the blood-spattered royal tent.

  So it was that Isaac awoke in solitude. He struggled to gather his wooly memories of the day and night before. He had been dreaming, having a nightmare, surely? But then his hand touched something on the bed next to him. It was a dagger, buried to the hilt in the pillow. He jerked away from it, as though it were a scorpion, and bellowed for Diocles.

  With a gasp of relief, the faithful steward entered the tent and pattered over to kneel by the bedside. “My Lord, it is terrible! Dear God, it is too horrible to describe!” he wailed, wringing his hands.

  “What has been going on? What is all that noise outside?” Isaac quavered.

  “Ghosts, demons, and phantoms came in the night and murdered many of our people, my Lord. Your own two sentries were discovered in a wagon only half an hour ago. Oh, pity me, but their heads were separated from their bodies! Even General Bourtzes has been killed. They found his body today on the hillside.”

  Isaac knew then that he had not dreamed it all, nor would there be an assault on the castle this day—or any day. A cold chill ran down his back. He glanced furtively about, wondering if the phantom who had visited him last night might still be watching and listening. However, there was no sign of it, nor that it had ever been... other than the dagger. He sat up in the bed, barely listening to the babbling of his steward, while he tried to collect his jumbled thoughts.

  “We are leaving,” he said abruptly.

  “I... I beg your pardon, my Lord.”

  “We are leaving! Did you not hear me the first time, you imbecile?” Isaac shouted, and began to get out of bed.

  Talon had been dozing against the wall parapet when Max nudged him awake with his foot. It had been a wakeful night for everyone; Max and Palladius had been up all night keeping watch. “There is something afoot in the enemy camp, Talon,” Max said. “Come and see.”

  Talon straightened, rubbed his eyes and hastened after Max and Palladius to the southeastern corner of the castle, the section nearest to the enemy.

  Palladius pointed. “I can’t figure out whether they are preparing to make an assault or preparing to leave,” he told Talon.

  “We should ‘stand to’ anyway, just in case,” Talon told him. Palladius nodded approvingly and went off to roust the men.

  “My bet is that they are leaving,” Talon told Max.

  “What did you do to make them decide that?”Max asked, looking puzzled. “True, they lost a lot of men, but there are still a great many more of them.”

  “Lets just say I had a word with the emperor and he was persuaded,” Talon said casually. Max’s eyes widened, but then men began to pour onto the battlements and he was suddenly busy deploying them to their places. If the army was readying a major offensive, they would have a long, hard day ahead defending the walls.

  However, Talon seemed to be right. The cumbersome army of Isaac was indeed packing up and leaving. Talon passed the order for no cheering. Instead the men, and now women, lined the walls to watch in silence, which in itself was unnerving as the demoralized army of the emperor withdrew back down the mountain, leaving a great mess behind.

  The emperor only paused when he came to his trebuchet, to find it had been sabotaged the night before by Talon and his men. The engineers had begun to prepare it for the journey back to Famagusta when the bindings and pins that should have held it together failed: Talon’s men had cut through the securing ropes to leave mere threads holding the massive structure together. It began to fall apart at about the time the emperor was moving past on his horse. The machine, now in useless bits, was left where it was, a forlorn pile of timber alone in the middle of a small flat pasture.

  “What I wouldn’t have given to hear what the emperor said when he saw that!” Palladius said, with a fierce grin on his ravaged face.

  “The miserable swine didn’t even bother to spend the time burying his dead!” Max exclaimed in disgust. Talon and Palladius just shook their heads.

  “When it’s all clear, Sergeant,” Talon said, addressing Palladius by his former rank, “I want the villagers to be put to work digging pits down by that trebuchet. I don’t want to add disease to our other problems.” He thought a moment, then added, “While you are at it, Sergeant, get them to bring all the pieces of that trebuchet back to the castle. I think we can reassemble it, and I have an idea as to how I might use it in the future.”

  His new man nodded his head in pleased acknowledgement. “It shall be done, Sir Talon,” he said, and hurried off.

  “You seem to have
made a follower there, Talon,” Max remarked, as they watched Palladius leave.

  “It doesn’t hurt to have a good Sergeant around, Max. You know that. I think Palladius will do well, especially with you to keep him in line.” Talon clapped his old friend on the shoulder.

  She lodged with the other of his concubines

  Who taught her the rules she must follow all times

  She never must climb in the top of his bed

  But crawl beneath the sheet from his feet to his head.

  —David Lewis Paget

  Chapter 17

  Tamura the Concubine

  Isaac Komnenos, Emperor of Cyprus, might have been a sadistic tyrant and rapist, but he was also pragmatic. The chest of gold that he discovered when he eventually made it back to his palace in Famagusta certainly helped relieve some of the dreadful taste left in his mouth from the debacle on the mountain. He loathed having to sign the document that arrived with the little chest of gold, but consoled himself with the thought that it would keep him safe for the time being. He told his Chief Minister to see that the document was sent back up the mountain.

  Isaac’s losses had been large and embarrassing, and with the death of his faithful general Bourtzes costly; but there was still much to enjoy in life at the palace, despite the humiliation. After reluctantly issuing orders to all and sundry that the people on the mountain were to be left absolutely alone and undisturbed, he set about assuaging his greed for other indulgences besides war.

  One of his occupations had not changed, and that was his peccadillo for young girls. One in particular had attracted his attention a few months previously. Tamura was fifteen, at least she thought she was, just old enough to not be totally intimidated by the emperor and his noisy behavior both in and out of the bedroom. While being, on her arrival at the palace, as frightened and confused as all the other girls, Tamura possessed some of her father’s steel. Isaac liked having more than one girl at the same time; Tamura with her native intelligence and growing skills at the art of love, gradually persuaded him to have only her when the urge was upon him, which was quite frequent.

  Not that she had arrived with those skills. She had been virginal when he first took her to his bed, but her fundamental instinct for survival dictated that she learn very quickly what would please her new master after she had been kidnapped. The emperor’s men had stolen her from a rich merchant father, who had ended his life as a street beggar minus a foot. The emperor enjoyed destroying the rich merchant class—and occasionally maiming the merchants—for much the same reason as his great-uncle in Constantinople. They had money; he wanted it, so he took it. It never occurred to him that by plundering this source of riches he was driving his own empire towards destitution.

  This left Tamura on her own, as her mother had died of a broken heart soon after they were thrown out onto the street. Tamura was very beautiful, which helped, with an innocent manner that belied the working of a keen brain. A Greek blonde, her huge gray eyes appeared to be looking at the world with a vacuous naiveté that attracted Isaac. He failed to notice the pert, slightly pointed jaw and the firm line of her lovely mouth, which she usually kept pouting prettily for him. She’d begun to figure out that she could have a life of sorts, even if it was as a concubine in his palace. What she didn’t want was to be yet another girl, soon discarded, who would never be able to marry because she was tainted and end up in some brothel in Larnaca or worse, diseased and ruined. This left her with the option to become the best of his flock, to gain power, then to retain it.

  Instinctively she had sought out an ally, and one appeared in the form of a eunuch—they were plentiful enough. The pogroms that Isaac’s great-uncle Andronicus had set in place against the eunuch administrative caste in Constantinople had not yet reached Cyprus by the time Isaac arrived to claim his empire, so the administrators were still firmly entrenched in the system from top to bottom. One evening, not long after she had arrived at the palace, the eunuch Siranus had mentioned to her that she was doing well. Although he was a eunuch, Siranus still possessed much in the way of sexual feelings, and again instinct told Tamura that he would be interested and therefore perhaps useful. She gave him a coquettish look and pretended to be flattered.

  Two days later, when she was being massaged, Siranus slipped into the chamber, motioned the not-so-skilled girl who was currently working on Tamura out of the room, and took over the work. He then began to work her back in long, sliding strokes, using oil. His fingers were strong but sensitive, and she groaned with pleasure.

  “I could tell it was you at once,” she told him in a muffled voice.

  “How is that, my lady?” he answered.

  “Because of how you use your hands. I like the touch of them. More oil on me... all over.”

  “Would you like me to continue, my Lady?” he asked softly.

  “Oh, yes,” she said, and turned over to present her front to him. She moved his hand to her lower stomach, reveling in the feeling of being touched. Isaac was inept at this form of caressing.

  “Show me what you can do with those long fingers of yours,” she murmured.

  He moved his fingers over her oiled skin and then downward to gently move her thighs apart. She sighed deeply, and some moments later she arched her back. “Oh my God, what are you doing to me? Don’t stop! Keep going!” she cried, and collapsed seconds later, gasping for breath and shaking all over.

  From that day forth she would have no other eunuch touch her, nor another woman, not even for depilation. Isaac, who liked to imitate the Arab sultans, preferred his women completely hairless below the neck.

  It proved simple enough to keep Siranus with her, attending to her every need—needs with which he willingly complied. The eunuchs had access to the women’s quarters, where they often found girls and older women bored half to death, either discarded or neglected by their lord and master who had the sole rights to their bodies. In many small ways the eunuchs could make life miserable or pleasant for their wards, who numbered nearly twenty females in all. An ambitious and beautiful girl like Tamura was able to stand out. She made it clear to Siranus that he could partake of her favors should he wish, but there were conditions: absolute secrecy, obedience, and the awarding of privileges over and above those enjoyed by the other girls, such as much pampering, and above all, access to the emperor.

  Siranus was a young dark Greek with rebellious curls and a body that had retained a likeness to Adonis, although minus one important feature. He came from the region of Cappadocia near Anatolia, and while not a native of the island of Cyprus he could blend in with the population without trouble. He had been deprived only of his testicles, so he and Tamura both enjoyed their dalliances in secrecy. Both knew that, should they be discovered, it would mean torture, mutilation and death, so they were very circumspect.

  Siranus kept Tamura abreast of all the gossip going the rounds in the palace and the town of Famagusta, not forgetting what went on in the Cathedral, which was, according to Siranus, a den of iniquity. The bishop, it appeared, was as fond of young boys as Isaac was of girls. The two of them enjoyed many an afternoon laughing and recounting malicious gossip, but Siranus never forgot his position, and Tamura never took for granted her elevated position. Nevertheless, gossip is power in a palace, so Tamura became powerful.

  Over the last four months of Isaac’s occupation of the island she had became an absolute favorite of the emperor, whom she drove wild with her sexual antics. With her lissome body wrapped around his bulk he could forget the world. Her clever hands and mouth left him panting for breath, and often on the edge of a heart attack. And so she gained stature within the palace. Isaac never married. He didn’t feel the need, as he could take any woman he pleased, so why bother? It didn’t occur to him that an heir might be useful to have.

  On the other hand, he might have instinctively felt that, being a Komnenos, any heir might in future challenge him for the role of emperor. It seemed to be a family trait, so any time the thought occurre
d to him he put the idea aside and wallowed in his power. In his selfish Komnenos way he ignored obvious realities and indulged his fantasies and whims at every opportunity. Before long he was utterly infatuated with this girl who appeared to return his affections four-fold. He never suspected that she loathed and despised him and wanted almost more than life itself to kill him, to avenge herself on him for having destroyed her family.

  She became adroit at using her woman’s wiles. Sometimes he would behave particularly badly, and then she would pout and punish him. Although he could have commanded her to do anything he wanted under pain of death, she managed to keep him off balance and acceding to some of her carefully chosen wishes, resulting in an increase in the respect shown to her by the ubiquitous and knowing eunuchs.

  Over time, her initial desire for revenge became submerged by her growing love of intrigue, with which the palace seethed, and the power she was steadily gaining over her emperor and his followers. People began to walk carefully around Tamura, because a word from her could make life miserable and even hazardous. Marriage to the emperor had even been mooted, but she was clever enough to not seem too eager and played hard to get, while at the same time driving him insane with her skill in the bed chamber.

  Their combined shouts and shrieks of ecstasy would reverberate around the labyrinthine corridors of the palace; the other concubines would chew their lips and nails, sighing with relief or weeping with hate and jealousy, while the guards would smirk knowingly to one another. The eunuchs would smile complacently to themselves, as the edge had once again been taken off the emperor’s savage moods and they could get on with the task of running the country in the manner they were used to. His numerous and confusing edicts were frequently lost in the bureaucratic mire; corruption flourished, and suffocating bureaucracy oozed out of the palace like melted tar.