She lowered her head almost to her knees and whispered, “Yes, I... I’m all right now. Did you say Exazenos, Talon?”
Talon stared down at her bent head and said in a low tone. “Is it possible? Could it be the same man, Pantoleon? I am not so familiar with Greek names, so it didn’t at first occur to me that it might be the same person. I wanted to know for sure, which is why I came to you.”
“Does your man describe him?” she asked in a muffled tone.
“Jannat, is there some water?” Rav’an interrupted. Jannat stood up and hastened to bring a cup of water to Theo, who took it with a grateful smile and sipped. They looked at one another over Theodora’s huddled frame.
“He says that those who have seen him remarked a significant feature, which is his scarred face.” After a long pause Talon finally said, “So it is Pantoleon after all?”
“Remember I told you of his disfigurement?” Theo told them. They all nodded agreement. Theo had told them the full story.
“So Pantoleon survived the coup, and now he is here in Cyprus,” Talon mused.
“What does it mean for us, Talon?” Rav’an asked, her voice full of concern.
“That depends upon what he finds out, and what, if anything, the emperor decides to tell him,” Talon responded, but he was beginning to feel very uneasy.
“I must go to Famagusta without delay. To verify this news... and to see what can be done,” he said.
In seeking wisdom, be willing
to ask and look like a fool;
But once you have it within you—
Guard it like a jewel.
—Y. Bin Ezra
Chapter 26
An Appointment
The market in the walled city of Famagusta was in full swing, it being mid-week. Many of the people streaming through the great wooden iron-studded gates had come from Larnaca and the surrounding countryside. Today was also fair day, so wealthy merchants and minor nobles arrived in their best clothes, with ringed fingers, oiled ringlets, ornate feathered caps and silk overcoats. Their veiled ladies were dressed in their best fur-trimmed mantles, displaying silk dresses underneath and riding well-bred animals while casting sidelong glances at one another, assessing each potential rival. Their escorts, who vied with one another like peacocks trying to be the most splendid, rode alongside their female charges protectively. They looked down their noses at the nearby walking peasants, who wore ragged pantaloons and coarse linen shirts; the women folk often only wore a shift of linen decorated with colored thread, carrying large baskets of vegetables from their farms.
In the square itself the rows of stalls were crowded closely together, their various wares displayed in a rainbow of color and shapes. Bread covered one table, sweet dates, figs and honeyed pastries at another, while gauze and muslin were draped around yet another. Silken bolts and linen competed with furs from the Northern countries. Clothes, robes and mantles, stamped leather work, cheap jewelry, belts, pouches and bundles of pheasant feathers were on display, along with a bewildering array of tools, weapons and tonics which the vendors assured the public were capable of ensuring long life and immunity to disease of any kind.
Carcasses of rabbits, still with their fur, chickens hanging by their feet, and wild birds culled from the central island lakes shared their respective dead smells with the fish from the sea that lay in wide wooden trays alongside octopus, sardines, shellfish of every variety, and eels from the rivers.
The most raucous were the sellers of roots and tonics for those who needed help in the bed chamber. “Buy this for your man, Ladies, and you’ll have two donkeys to play with in the bed! I have lettuce in quantity for you, Master!” one particularly villainous-looking vendor shouted up to some merchant ladies riding by. “Also thistles for the donkey! Heh heh!”
The merchant raised his whip as though to strike the insolent man, who ducked, pretending to be fearful, and laughed. Few if any of these “medicines” would provide the smallest help to the needy, other than perhaps a good physic for the constipated.
“What does he mean, he has lettuce?” Talon asked Dimitri, who grinned. “You mean those?” Talon pointed at a basket of green leaves.
“Yes, those. Surely you know the powers of lettuce, Master Talon?” Dimitri smirked.
“Er… no, not really. It doesn’t grow well in the places I have lived.”
“Why, we Greeks consider it to be an aphrodisiac. It helps with the limp you-know-what!” Dimitri chuckled and made an obscene gesture.
“There is a saying: ‘Thistles are lettuce to a donkey!’ So that fellow is being doubly cheeky and the master on his horse knew it!”
Talon laughed uncertainly. “Lettuce, hum? I’ll bear that in mind.”
Talon and Dimitri continued to walk gingerly along the narrow passageways between the crowded stalls, which appeared to be doing good business. They finally arrived at the stall where Dimitri’s man was selling olives, and the oil of olives, in large earthenware jars; the scent of the booth was pleasant. Right next to it was a booth belonging to a herbalist who sold lavender, garlic, mugwort, basil and rosemary, which added to the agreeable aroma and offset the not so nice smells emanating from the ground itself and some of the other stalls.
Talon had been asked to buy some raspberry leaves if he could find them for Theodora. Their mountain did not have them growing wild, but she had heard that they could be found in the distant foothills of Trudos. He decided to buy some lettuce seeds from the herbalist as well, “For the garden, you understand,” he told the smirking Dimitri. “They look nourishing.” Dimitri cackled with laughter.
The noise of the market was deafening. Donkeys brayed, dogs barked, children screamed, and vendors bellowed, while the ongoing chatter of the crowd all but drowned out normal conversation. This suited both men, who were very alert; although the market provided a good cover, there might be others watching for strangers and reporting.
Talon was dressed as a peasant, but beneath his dirty loose brown robe he carried his sword. On his head he wore a large straw hat to protect his head from the sun. It might have been late October but the sun on this day was still warm; as many others wore wide hats of straw too, he would go unremarked. Shadowing him and Dimitri were Maymun and his men, watchful for any kind of danger. There were already signs of drunkenness from the lounging soldiers, which their bodyguards noted.
“What has been the reaction to the incident on the street?” Talon asked Dimitri as they negotiated a stall full of sheep and goats.
“Initially a lot of fuss and people were pointing in all directions. I heard the soldiers came and roughed up a few people in the street, but we were long gone by then. We managed to get the boy back to the palace in one piece, and I did not hear of much from within the palace itself, but he must have told his mistress. She cheekily sent a message demanding that we assassinate one of the women in the royal harem whom she blamed for the attempt.” Dimitri chuckled. “She is a piece of work, that young woman!”
“We will have to tread carefully with her,” Talon agreed. “I don’t want her knowing who I am for any reason, nor for whom you work. All the same, she is a prize we need to keep. When are you due to see the boy again?”
“Perhaps today. I am wondering if he is more than just a servant of the lady.” Neither Dimitri nor Talon ever spoke any names while outside the villa, just in case.
As it happened, Talon was to be disappointed. Pantoleon, otherwise known as Exazenos did not show his face that day, nor the next.
“I must get back to the castle,” he fretted to Dimitri. “Rav’an is due any day now, and I must be there.”
Dimitri shrugged. “Don’t worry; we will keep watch, and I shall inform you in detail via the pigeons.”
“That’s not the same as actually seeing this man. I must do that somehow,” Talon responded.
The last day of Talon’s stay, the watchers of the villa where Pantoleon was purported to be staying noticed much activity. The guards who had been lounging a
bout at the gates became alert, and by late morning a small retinue of riders had left the courtyard and appeared to be riding towards the palace.
A frantic messenger arrived to tell Talon and Dimitri of the news. Without wasting a moment both men seized their swords and hurried along the busy streets. They wore over-cloaks with hoods that hid their faces and heads from the curious, but their haste drew calls of annoyance as they pushed past knots of people in the streets.
Finally they arrived at the wide avenue that fronted the palace and found a corner of a building from where they would get a good view of any new arrivals. The street before the palace was full of horses and palanquins; clearly there was something important going on. For a bad moment Talon thought they might have missed their quarry, but then they were alerted by a rising cloud of pigeons that fluttered into the sky, heralding another arrival. There followed the clatter of horses’ hooves on the stones from another street. Pulling back into the cover of a pillar, Talon and Dimitri watched as the group drew up and dismounted. Servants ran down the steps to take the horses, leaving the visitors free to mount the fifteen steps to the main entrance of the palace.
Talon strained his eyes to see the four men. All wore brilliantly sewn costumes of the Byzantine fashion and swords, but their cloaks hid their faces until one of the men swung his cloak behind him with a sharp gesture and in doing so shook the hood loose from his head. Instinctively the man caught the cloth, but not before a wig he was wearing was slightly dislodged. With a gesture of irritation the man adjusted his wig and left the cloak hood lying back. Talon could see clearly that his face was badly scarred. His men waited respectfully while he adjusted the headpiece, then they all moved into the darkness of the palace entrance.
Talon turned to Dimitri. “It is he, I am sure of it. If Theodora is right we have two of the most evil men in Christianity in the palace.”
They set off back to the villa, where Talon held a small council of war. Dimitri brought his closest men, including Maymun, to the meeting, which was held in one of the topmost rooms. Dimitri explained what they had ascertained, and there was a silence as they digested this information.
If this Pantoleon, or Exazenos, escaped from Constantinople after the former emperor his sponsor was executed, why doesn’t someone here turn him, Sir Talon?” asked one of the men.
“Because he has brought with him much treasure, which I am sure he will point out to Isaac, whom he is visiting today. Also he is a skilled spy. This man could be of enormous help to the emperor, I am sure of it, and a great danger to all of us,” Talon told them. “You must watch his villa at all times.”
Pantoleon was unaware that he had been observed as he entered the gloomy entrance of the palace. He was too preoccupied with what he would say to the emperor to notice anyone. He was all too aware that he would need to use his diplomatic skills to the full, for if his own people were to be believed this Isaac Komnenos was as fickle and dangerous as his late great uncle. Pantoleon consoled himself with the knowledge that he had survived the menaces of Andronikos unscathed; all the same, it would not do to be complacent. He would have to heed every nuance of the conversation to come.
He and his men divested themselves of their cloaks, and then he went forward alone towards the great doors of the audience chamber while his men remained near the entrance. Pantoleon was taking no chances. Should things go badly he wanted to be able to leave quickly. He had even told his ship’s captain to be prepared to leave at a moment’s notice.
The doors were opened by a courtier who barely deigned to bow to him, something Pantoleon duly noted for the future. As the doors swung open, he found himself looking down a long carpeted passageway lined by a thin crowd of courtiers who were all staring back at him. He squared his shoulders and walked slowly up to a cushion on the floor, about ten paces from the throne. Here he was expected to prostrate himself, then crawl on hands and knees to another cushion in front of and below the throne. Resigning himself to the unavoidable display of humility, he lowered himself to the ground. It was with some surprise that he saw the carpet he was crawling along was threadbare and dirty. This “Empire” was short of money!
Even on his knees, the finery of his clothing put everyone else in the room to shame. His under robe was of green silk, and the sleeves were patterned with gold and silver thread sewn in intricate filigreed designs right down to the tied-off cuffs. His over robe was so stiff with semi-precious stones and gold thread that it was an effort to bend into the undignified position he was forced to adopt. Before entering the chamber he had donned a small turban-like hat that was a flattering imitation of the kind the emperor favored. The material was of brown dyed silk with jewels and semi-precious stones sewn into the intricately decorated material.
Pantoleon knew by the murmurs of the nobles and court officials on either side of him that he had made a startling impression. He paid them no heed, however, as he was watching the emperor ahead of him, even as he appeared to be keeping his eyes downcast in a respectful manner. Then he heard his name announced by the courtier at the entrance, in the shrill tones of a eunuch. He had nearly forgotten—the eunuchs were still running administration on this island. Finally stopping at the second cushion, he prostrated himself again, waiting for the word to be spoken whereby he could sit back on his heels and look up.
“We are pleased to see you, Exazenos, Lord from Constantinople. Be seated,” said a voice above him. The timbre of the voice sounded familiar. Pantoleon sat back on the cushion. He looked up at Emperor Isaac Komnenos and saw some resemblance to Andronikos. This face was more full, the beard was forked and graying, the eyes were darker, and the fleshy mouth was set into an expression of petulance.
“I bring a gift for Your Highness,” Pantoleon said, and raised his hand.
Gabros and one other man crawled along the carpet, carrying a small chest. It appeared to be very heavy. Pantoleon waved his hand over the chest and said, “My Lord, please accept this humble gift from my poor hands.”
Gabros opened the chest and Emperor Isaac Komnenos’s eyes opened wide at what he saw. Inside the chest were bars of gold stacked neatly, close together. There were perhaps twenty bars, each two hands-width long, half a hand wide and two fingers deep. It was a fabulous gift. Isaac appeared to be unimpressed as he sat back, but Pantoleon, who prided himself on being an excellent judge of people, could see the naked avarice in those dark eyes as they lingered on the wealth he had just provided.
“You have brought a gift worthy of your rank, Lord Exazenos. But we wish to know why you have come to our Empire.”
“Your Majesty, I am but a solitary traveller and would welcome the opportunity to stay here on this beautiful island, and perhaps to serve you in some capacity.”
Isaac glanced to his left, where Pantoleon noticed a stocky, thickset man standing just behind the throne who gave an imperceptible nod. Pantoleon’s eyes assessed the courtiers and officials in front of him and to either side of the emperor. He did not fail to notice a slim veiled figure standing just behind the throne. Perhaps his eyes lingered for just a moment longer than intended on this figure, because it moved and with a furtive motion the veil was dropped a fraction of an inch as though unintentionally, and he found himself staring at the very beautiful features of a young woman.
He hastily dropped his eyes and directed them to return to the old man, who was being helped by another to lift the chest and take it away. The emperor’s eyes followed it as it went, even as he maintained his rigid position on the throne. So, the empire was short of treasure, Pantoleon surmised with some satisfaction. This could be dangerous if the emperor was a fool and tried to seize Pantoleon’s wealth outright, but it presented an opportunity as well. Isaac seemed to make up his mind about something.
“I would talk in private with you, Lord Exazenos. We shall adjourn... to less formal surroundings.” He gestured to the room at large and stood up. The courtiers bowed very low and remained in that position until Isaac had left the room, then
they in turn were ushered out.
Pantoleon was approached by the old man, who introduced himself as Diocles, First Minister of the Palace.
“I am to show you to the inner chamber where His Majesty will speak with you,” he said with a haughty nod to Pantoleon. “Your men may wait for you at the entrance,” he added dismissively.
Pantoleon maintained an impassive face, but inwardly he was seething at the arrogance of these palace minions. However, he meekly followed the old man down a gloomy corridor to the entrance of another chamber without saying a word. His practiced eyes noted that the guards, although they were tough looking, were neither in a regular uniform nor were they very military in appearance. The emperor was in financial straits and employing mercenaries! A bad mix at the best of times, Pantoleon told himself.
He was ushered into a smaller chamber where Isaac was seated at a table covered with papers. He was picking out some grapes from a fruit bowl placed on the documents with a fine disregard for the paper and the vellum, which were being splashed with water every time he selected a grape. Pantoleon’s eyes registered the threadbare furniture and cushions and the scraped and scuffed woodwork. The lime was peeling off the walls and the once exquisite frescoes were marred.
“Ah, Lord Exazenos, there you are,” Isaac said, “Did you not feel humbled by the love that my subjects have for me? God is kind. I am truly beloved.”
Pantoleon stared but hurriedly composed himself. “Indeed, your Highness, I felt it all around me as I entered the audience chamber!” he exclaimed.
“Be seated. I want to talk with you and find out more about you.” The emperor’s voice sounded pleasant enough, Pantoleon thought, as he seated himself and glanced around the room. The stocky man stood off to one side near to the emperor; lingering by a window was the woman he had seen in the audience chamber.
He smiled at the emperor and said, “I am deeply honored, your Majesty. I am happy to tell you all about myself.”
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