Assassins of Kantara

by James Boschert

  “Then let’s start with your pedigree, Lord Exazenos. What is your family?”

  “My father was the late Senator Kalothesos, my Lord,” Pantoleon lied. “He was accused of treason by the emperor’s treacherous spies and quite unfairly executed, even though he had faithfully served the empire as a general for many years. Those were terrible times, my Lord.”

  I will never offer to make my sworn enemy

  my new first lieutenant

  in the presence of my current first lieutenant.

  —If I Were An Evil Overlord

  Chapter 27

  A Byzantine Standoff

  Pantoleon was spitting with rage by the time he arrived back at his villa. He held himself in with a physical effort until he had hurled the reins of his horse at a lackey and was striding up the stairs to his private rooms. He motioned Gabros to follow him as he stalked into his chamber, tossing his cloak to the floor and reaching for a jug of wine that stood on the table.

  The door was closed firmly behind them by Gabros.

  “Who is this flatulent arse who thinks he is an emperor! ‘I am truly beloved of my subjects’,” he mimicked, twisting his mouth. “Beloved! I’ll bet my fortune he is despised and hated, more than he can imagine! The foolish and avaricious bastard,” Pantoleon raged.

  “Did you see his eyes light up when he saw the gold, Gabros? By God, but we need to keep this villa under constant guard. This God-forsaken little island is dead broke and he thinks it is an empire! It is a copper pot kingdom and he’s a copper pot tyrant! Ha ha! That’s why its called Cyprus, I suppose. Damn him! I have held more power in my left buttock than he has today, and he condescends to give me a job!” Pantoleon hissed between his teeth. His features were contorted with rage, made even more hideous by the badly healed scars, giving him the aspect of an enraged red-faced devil.

  Gabros just nodded; sometimes his master really scared even him. He was, however, good at listening and looking attentive when his master fell into one of his rare tirades.

  “I was introduced to his ‘Gatherer of Information’ as he calls his chief spy. He is called Malakis and is as dim as a rock, but cunning. Yes, he is one of those cunning toads who ingratiates himself with a fool, and now he sees me as a threat. But... there is this woman who was there with the emperor, who might be an ally if only I could get to her.”

  “Should I find out more about this Malakis and the lady, Lord?” Gabros offered.

  “Oh yes! But be careful, right now he is the one with all the spies. But not for long. You should have seen his face when the emperor said that we would be working together. He looked like he was going to choke on his own spit! He will definitely be looking for an excuse to cut me off at the knees.”

  Pantoleon took a gulp of wine and reviewed the private interview with the emperor....

  “Your reputation has preceded you, Lord Exazenos,” Isaac said, with peculiar emphasis. Pantoleon darted a glance at the man standing nearby and saw him staring back in a manner he really didn’t like. So they knew; well, that meant that at least they had some kind of intelligence. There was a long pregnant pause; he smelled danger all around him and prepared to move quickly. His right hand crept towards his concealed knife.

  “Ah yes, I want you to meet my Gatherer of information,” Isaac said. “You see, we do know who you are, from where you came and why you left.”

  Pantoleon smiled then, or rather grimaced, pretending to look guilty. “Indeed, my Lord, I would not lie to you, but what I said in public was for the public’s ears. I used to serve your great uncle. I did so faithfully, but as you know he met an untimely death and I... well, I had to leave.” He laughed and spread his hands in what he hoped looked like a disarming gesture.

  There was a very long silence while the emperor’s slightly bulging black eyes regarded him as though he was an insect, but then suddenly Isaac’s swarthy face creased into a laugh. He held his sides and shook with laughter until there were tears in his eyes.

  “Indeed you did, and you came to precisely the right place, my dear Lord Exazenos. How would you like to work for me?” he beamed, wiping his eyes.

  Pantoleon, well used to this kind of behavior from his previous master, breathed a silent sigh of relief, and satisfaction, then said in the most ingratiating manner he could muster without choking, “I am your servant in all things, my Lord.” He knew only too well that the emperor’s offer was couched in a deadly threat, but he had been more or less prepared for this.

  “I have some experience in obtaining information, my Lord. I will be very happy to serve you in whatever capacity you desire and where I can do the most good.”

  “You will build a system of spies such that I will always know what is going on in my Empire,” stated Isaac. “You will have the help of my man Malakis here to get you started, but I want much more. I want an informer in every castle on this island.” Pantoleon glanced again at Malakis, who looked as though he had just swallowed a large spider.

  Pantoleon realized that the emperor was blithely unaware of the jealously he had just created within his own camp. He shrugged mentally; the Komnenos family seemed always to set their servants against one another. It would be up to him to be the survivor. There was certainly no room for both of them.

  “Every castle, my Lord?” Pantoleon asked. There could only be about five on the entire island.

  “All of them, and that includes... the Kantara Castle and that thief, Sir Talon.” Isaac didn’t elaborate, so Pantoleon decided to ask Malakis at some later date—and then the name registered. Could it be? Pantoleon’s pulse began to beat a little faster. Was it possible that his quarry was here? What a delightful possibility! The fates had once again been kind to him.

  His thoughts were interrupted by the emperor waving over the veiled lady, who obediently walked towards them. As she approached she touched the left side of her face and the veil slipped, as though by accident. Once again, Pantoleon found himself looking into the eyes of a very beautiful young woman who gazed back with an expression that was quite clear. She was interested in Pantoleon. He didn’t display any outward show, but inside he was suddenly very interested in what she might have to say.

  She quickly adjusted her veil and slipped behind the emperor, placing her slim hand on his shoulder. “My Lord?” she said in a soft tone of enquiry.

  Isaac touched her hand with a display of affection and said, “We have concluded our business for today, Tamura. I will wish to eat in a short while.” He turned to Pantoleon and added, “We have great hopes for you, Exazenos. I expect you to meet with Malakis and work out a strategy whereby my lords and nobles are brought to heel. We have some hostages already, but I want to be sure of these rebellious people. I want to know what they are thinking!” The emphasis on the last word told Pantoleon that Isaac was very unhappy with the information he was receiving thus far and that he had better perform well.

  Pantoleon looked across at Gabros and said in measured tones, “What I heard was that Sir Talon de Gilles has a castle on the island. Is that true?”

  Gabros looked surprised. “There is a man, a Frank, who stole a castle, my Lord, but I didn’t know his name. The entire island is laughing about it.”

  “Tell me more.” Pantoleon smiled and took another gulp of wine. He was beginning to feel more comfortable with his circumstances. They had teetered on the edge, but now.... The emperor needed him as much as he needed the emperor, it seemed.

  Gabros recounted the tale that had already become a legend on the island. He had learned a long time ago to keep an ear to the ground wherever he landed. He could therefore inform Pantoleon fairly accurately as to what had transpired. It was a surprise to learn that his master knew of this Sir Talon.

  “You mean to tell me that chinless wonder has surrendered a castle to that man, Talon?” asked Pantoleon his voice dripping with contempt.

  “Not at first, but somehow overnight he decided to leave the mountain and brought his rag tag army home. After the demonst
ration of Talon’s magical powers no one would have fought on anyway.”

  Gabros leaned forward to emphasize his point. “Lord, from everything I have heard, the people on that mountain ridge are led by a man we should all fear. He and his men are the spawn of dragon’s teeth. He relies upon their loyalty and they would die for him, but he himself is quite without fear.”

  “Gabros! I cannot believe that you would fall victim to wild stories of this kind. I know this Talon, not very well it is true, but he is no magician. He is a Frank and was a Templar. I played polo with him. He wasn’t so magical then,” Pantoleon scoffed.

  Gabros looked unconvinced. He had heard wild tales about this man in the castle. Each story added to the aura of invincibility that appeared to surround the fellow his master knew as Talon. But Pantoleon had moved on.

  “I have been thinking. This ridiculous little emperor in charge of this ridiculous little island needs my help,” he mused. “That we will provide but... there is going to be a high price, and it could well be more than he has bargained for.”

  Gabros stared at him, then slowly a smirk formed on his battle-scarred face, “You mean that perhaps... ?” he left the rest unsaid, for they both knew what Pantoleon meant. Cyprus could become “available”. Gabros knew only too well to what lengths Pantoleon would go to obtain what he wanted.

  “We must find out who is in command of this fine-looking ‘professional’ army.” Pantoleon grimaced. “Gold talks.”

  Back in the palace there was a heated discussion taking place. Isaac, his spymaster and his paramour were talking about Pantoleon.

  Malakis loathed Tamura and hated the fact that she was being drawn into the affairs of state. A woman, for God’s sake, and a whore at that! Just a damned concubine, but here she was offering opinions to her master as though she were one of his most trusted advisers.

  He glowered at her as she talked, willing her out of his mind; but he knew that unless he paid attention he would be outmaneuvered yet again by the cunning witch. His recent attempt at killing her slave had failed, but, he resolved, it would not be long before he got rid of them both. One of his spies, a frustrated concubine, had indicated that irregularities were taking place in the harem and implied she’d be willing to help settle a score. Perhaps he should use poison next time, instead of swords?

  Tamura was indeed well on her way to becoming a trusted adviser. With one exception, Isaac’s other advisers hated it, but they were wise enough not to appear to object, nor did they contradict her too vehemently, because then the emperor, like some spoiled brat, would dig in his heels and stubbornly go with her opinion—or worse, throw a tantrum. That he was totally besotted with her was not lost on the wise old Diocles, who often used the fact to maneuver the emperor into making a decision. Malakis was incapable of such subtle behavior.

  With an almost physical effort Malakis shoved his poisonous thoughts into a corner of his mind and paid attention. He had already voiced his concerns and had urged the emperor to take the man down. But right now the damned witch was saying, “My Lord! I disagree with Malakis! What a prize for you! Is this not the very man who kept that unruly city Constantinople in line for the emperor? What a God-given chance it is that he came here to seek refuge.”

  Malakis winced, he hadn’t expected her to want to keep this Exazenos fellow. On the contrary, he had expected her to try to get rid of him. The opportunity had been there, it had been a matter of touch and go for a few moments when a well placed word could have spelled the visitor’s demise. He should have pointed out that if the man was so effective he should have done a better job of keeping the emperor alive. He cursed himself for not having made the play. He had been too busy considering how to eliminate Tamura to recognize the moment when it presented itself.

  Realizing that he needed to backtrack quickly, he leaned forward towards the emperor and added his words. “I see what she means, Sire. In that case I agree wholeheartedly, Your Highness. You have made a brilliant decision,” Malakis murmured in tones so oily that Tamura, who was looking at him, wondered how he didn’t slip in it and crack his thick head. He glanced over at Tamura, who gave him a sweet smile full of venom.

  “He will be a huge asset in bringing to heel those troublesome nobles in their lofty perches. In particular, that man on the mountain north of here,” Malakis continued. No one ever used Talon’s name in front of the emperor.

  Isaac looked up at him with contempt in his dark eyes. “Good! Perhaps he will manage what you failed to do,” he said nastily. “I want information, Malakis, not dead people lying around all over the place.” He shuddered, remembering the threat Talon had made in the darkness of the tent. He wanted no more visitations in the night, so he would have to keep Malakis on a tight rein; the man liked nothing better than to kill and maim. That must not occur unless Isaac authorized it.

  The idea of dismembering that Man on the Mountain and all his followers flickered through his mind for the briefest moment, but was quickly suppressed. Isaac was planning a quickie with his Tamura, and thoughts of the acute embarrassment he had suffered could inhibit his good mood badly, whereupon his manhood would shame him too. He grimaced; there had been these embarrassing moments more often of late.

  Later, when Isaac had slaked his thirst for her and was sleeping it off, Tamura lay quietly on the bed, thinking about Exazenos. What ghastly features he had from the burns! She had not missed the hairpiece, which although well made, was clearly a wig; a woman could not be fooled by that kind of thing. He appeared to be as rich as Croesus. Could she find an ally here? she wondered. She tumbled ideas around in her head, trying to think of a strategy that would benefit her and, more importantly, rid her of the pig lying next to her. She had seen the stranger’s reaction, very carefully suppressed but there nonetheless, and she drew hope from that.

  He was physically in very good shape and apparently still liked women, so the rumor that he might be a eunuch seemed unfounded. Her beauty, and now the palace power she wielded, were her two main assets. It had not been lost on her that here was a very intelligent man who came with a formidable reputation, possibly possessed of ruthless ambition too. She wanted to be a part of this somehow, anything to destroy Isaac. That at least she owed to her parents, both dead from the depredations of this monster. Whenever she visited the cathedral she always prayed for them. The problem was, how could she make contact with the stranger without being found out?

  In another part of the palace, adjacent to the dungeons where he felt most at home, Malakis was seated at his rough office table, brooding. The realization that he had been outmaneuvered by Tamura yet again and that the stranger had just usurped his position as chief spy was just sinking in. Malakis liked his role and had done his best to please his bloodthirsty master, as the blood-soaked dungeons of the palace could attest. His imaginative tortures and ability to prolong the suffering of his victims had impressed the emperor such that Malakis had risen from simple torturer and jailer to chief of spies and information gatherer. He sensed, however, that he was out of his league with this newcomer.

  He had done his homework as far as he could. The man was to be feared, and if he gained the ear of the emperor, as he seemed likely to do, then Malakis was doomed to no future at all. He had seen intelligence in the cold eyes of Exazenos, but what had chilled him to his bones was the calculating look of a ferocious predator.

  But Malakis had earned his place alongside the emperor and would fight to remain there. What did he have to lose? Unless he did something he had everything to lose, he decided, smashing his fist down on the table in a savage thump that rattled the plates and cups, one of which rolled onto the floor with a tinny clang.

  “Asanes! Get in here!” he shouted. Within a few moments his assistant appeared, wiping his beard and swallowing. He had been eating in the other room. “Yes, master?” he said.

  “I want the villa of this man Exazenos watched night and day. I want to know when that man farts, who comes and who goes. Do you hear me?
”

  Asanes wiped his mouth again, shifting from foot to foot. “We’ll need some more men, Master.”

  “You shall have them. Now get going. I want this to start now! Do not be seen, and if I do see any of your men when I go there on business I shall castrate you.”

  Asanes, a big burly man with arms the size of most men’s thighs, grinned. “Not a problem, Master. It shall be done as you command.”

  Malakis nodded dismissal and went back to considering a bit of information that had come to him from one of the eunuchs. Malakis had the usual contempt for their kind, but they were useful when it came to passing along gossip, and gossip usually contained a kernel of truth. The emperor’s woman, Tamura, was playing games with her favorite eunuch. At first he had disregarded this as nonsense. What woman in her position would be so stupid as to have an affair with another man, let alone a eunuch for God’s sakes, especially in this seething hot bed of intrigue and slander?

  Now he resolved to find out more. The woman Natalie, who was almost insane with jealousy, had actually given Malakis gold to undertake the murder of the eunuch, but the attempt had failed. Two of his best men had been killed, in broad daylight! A mystery still not solved, and one which gave Malakis cause for concern.

  Who else in the city was playing games on his turf? Not Exazenos, not yet anyway, because this event had occurred before that worthy had shown up. Malakis was not going to make another attempt, despite the shrill demands from Natalie for her money’s worth, until he understood the implications of that event.

  Talon was preparing to leave. He and Dimitri had worked out a process whereby Dimitri could keep watch on the villa that housed Pantoleon around the clock. “It is of paramount importance that you watch his every move,” Talon told Dimitri. “It would be better if you could find some way to get a man inside, but for the time being we have to rely on our watchers. I want to know the instant he leaves, either by boat or by land, and where he is going. I wish I didn’t, but I have to go as soon as possible, so you are on your own.”