Assassins of Kantara

by James Boschert

  “Did you see the leopard?” he demanded. His men ogled her too, she was only dressed in her flimsy night robe, which did little to hide her charms.

  “Yes, it went that way,” she told him with a haughty look, holding her scanty robe tightly about her. She pointed down the corridor in the direction it had fled.

  He leered at her. “Busy having it away with that floppy prick, were you?” he asked with a nasty leer, nodding towards the prone Siranus, but he was gone with his men before she could react.

  Eyes blazing with rage she glared after their departing figures. Perhaps she would take care of one more person before she stopped doing bad things, she thought to herself. She would clear it with God later. She stepped back inside the room, slammed the door and slid the bar into place.

  She went over to Siranus, who was slowly coming to and sitting up. She slapped him to get his attention. “Get up, you stinky thing, and get cleaned up,” she told him. “I can’t believe you fainted at the sight of a mere leopard, for God’s sake!”

  He groaned and wept, “I’m sorry my Lady. I, I was just so afraid!”

  “Be quiet and listen carefully. I want a snake. A very special kind of snake.”

  Talon and Maymun arrived out of breath at the gates of Dimitri’s small villa. They were admitted by a jittery follower and shown into the kitchen where Dimitri sat at the table. He had been drinking some powerful arak and looked very nervous.

  He leapt to his feet when he saw them.“Thank God Almighty you are safe!. I have not slept a wink! This spy business is killing me!” he told them, and pushed two small cups towards them. “I’ve even been praying! Can you imagine that? How did it go?” he asked, as he poured the fierce liquid into their glasses and refilled his own.

  “It didn’t,” Talon said, as he downed his drink in one go. He winced. “What is that stuff?”

  Maymun followed suit, then spent the next minute trying to breathe as it burned its way down his throat and its vapors filled his lungs. Dimitri smacked the boy on his back to help him to get over the experience, even as he cast apprehensive looks at Talon.

  “What happened, for God’s sake?” he asked. Junayd was there, looking disappointed that he had not been part of the expedition.

  “Someone was there before us and took care of him. Then all hell broke loose... everywhere! ”

  Maymun coughed, then laughed, and coughed again, “That’s because Master Talon let the leopards out of their cage and they were rampaging all over the gardens as we escaped,” he spluttered.

  “Dear Jesus protect us!” Dimitri groaned. Junayd snorted with laughter, looking incredulous. “Why did you do a crazy thing like that?” Dimitri demanded.

  “Because the other man left a witness behind who raised the alarm and we were unable to get away. Useful creatures, those. Perhaps I’ll get a couple for our place.”

  They were guarded by the eunuchs of the Emperor's court

  Who dallied with the concubines, until they were caught,

  Then their heads were toppled by a sharp steel blade

  And buried in the field where their sisters were laid.

  —David Lewis Paget

  Chapter 32

  An Unlikely Alliance

  The emperor and his extensive entourage arrived at the gates of Famagusta in the early afternoon. Trumpets announced his arrival to the city at large and he was met by Asanes and the captain of the guard, who presented a colorful honor guard.

  Isaac, who was fond of pomp and ceremony, rode his favorite white horse bedecked in silver and gold trappings through the gates as though he had come back from a triumph, and acknowledged the guard with a casual wave of his scepter. The two young men leading his horse were dressed in green hunting tights, their athletic chests adorned with tight ornate doublets sewn with silver thread, and they sported green caps with long peacock feathers on their carefully coifed hair. The trumpets blared and the pipes shrieked and wailed as the warriors followed the emperor into the city. They were immaculate in polished armor that gleamed in the weak sunlight of mid-winter and rode beautiful horses that had been groomed to perfection.

  While the parade was impressive, it was significant that few of the citizens of Famagusta were there to greet their lord and master. His departures and arrivals were no longer an event of any real interest to them. This did nothing to improve his mood when he surveyed the meagre crowd that gave half-hearted cheers and even some distant jeers when he rode through the gates.

  Pantoleon, not to be outdone by a petty emperor, was also mounted on a striking horse, but his was gray—a beautiful animal, spirited and high-stepping. Pantoleon himself was clad in armor that matched the mercenaries in bronze shine. His bodyguard stayed close.

  Neither man had had a very successful journey to Paphos and back.

  Isaac had missed a chance to capture an elusive ship that kept coming and going, seemingly at will, from the port. There was rumor that it belonged to Sir Talon, that cursed magician on the mountain, of whom people talked in hushed tones. Worse, the pickings had become less bountiful, because merchants now knew of his approaches. Their daughters and even their wives were conspicuous by their absence whenever he arrived in a town. He had regretted not taking Tamura with him from the day he arrived in Larnaca and had to make do with ugly wenches his servants had dug out of some midden.

  His other discontent was his growing concern that Pantoleon was superior in every way to him in intelligence. After losing four games in a row of chess, the emperor had kicked the board over and they had not played again, even when Pantoleon had promised earnestly that he would lose every game thereafter. Isaac was beginning to wish that he had killed him the first day and then plundered his house for his treasure.

  Pantoleon for his part was utterly disaffected with this troll of a petty tyrant and had watched with almost unconcealed disgust as he used every pretext to steal money from the very people he needed to further the wealth of his island. Knowing that his future and perhaps his life depended upon being at the emperor’s command, he had tried to advise Isaac tactfully when his actions regarding some issue were idiotic and counter-productive.

  He felt that he had failed dismally and so was very angry. He contemplated leaving this pitiful island to its disagreeable ogre and finding somewhere else to live. The very first thing he resolved to do was to load his treasure onto his ship and make sure it was able to leave at a moment’s notice. Pantoleon did not wish to lose his hard-won wealth. At least he could rely upon Gabros, who was visible among the cavalry drawn up to greet them.

  Isaac noticed something else. “Where is Malakis?” he demanded, his tone truculent. “He knows very well that he should be here to greet me,” his voice was loud as he addressed the captain of the guard and Asanes, who both looked apprehensive. “I shall punish him!” he threatened, raising his voice, his eyes bulging with anger at this slight.

  “Um, er, Your Highness he is... er, he is dead,” Asanes finally stated in a very low tone to the emperor. Pantoleon heard him, however, and shot a look of enquiry at Gabros, who gave him a warning look. Pantoleon noted with surprise that Gabros was wearing a bandage over his left ear.

  “What’s that? Dead? How can he be?” Isaac demanded, looking unsettled.

  “My Lord, Your Highness, may we please escort you to the palace, and there we will make a full report,” the frightened captain of the guard begged him.

  “Yes, yes, all right,” Isaac said, sounding uncertain. He allowed himself to be led off. Commands were shouted and men were dismissed. Pantoleon decided he was not wanted by the emperor, and although he was consumed with curiosity, he sidled up to Gabros and together they rode off .

  “I will tell all when we get to the villa, Lord. The streets are crawling with spies,” Gabros said out of the corner of his mouth.

  It was a relief to Pantoleon to return to his luxurious living chambers and divest himself of the heavy armor. After taking wine and food he demanded, “What in God’s name is going on
?”

  When an exhausted and very nervous-looking Gabros had finished his unadorned version of events and Pantoleon had calmed down enough from wanting to kill him with his own hands, he thought about what had actually occurred.

  “What is this about thunderbolts flying through the air? You made that up, didn’t you?” he demanded.

  “Master, you will notice that we are short several men. I am not lying about the thunderbolts. One of their shards took off a portion of my ear!” Gabros touched the bandage.

  Pantoleon’s look said he was unconvinced.

  “I swear to you and before God that they were killed by the thunderbolts from the castle. It is only because of God’s mercy that I am alive right now to tell you of that awful event,” Gabros insisted.

  Pantoleon shook his head and muttered, “Impossible. You are sure it was not Greek Fire?’

  “No, Master. Greek Fire does not explode like a thunderclap after flying through the air from a great distance.”

  Pantoleon changed the direction of the conversation. “So you have not heard from Nestos, but Malakis is dead?” This might mean an opportunity, he mused to himself.

  “That pig Asanes didn’t want to say so, but he couldn’t lie to the emperor. I only found out when you did, Master. I waited for Nestos near the wall where he went over, but he never came back, and when the guards began swarming all over the place I left. I still don’t know what happened, but I fear Nestos is dead or captured.”

  “If he is captured we have a problem,” Pantoleon murmured, more to himself. He thought for a while, then he glared up at Gabros, who was shifting from one foot to the other.

  “You have made an appalling mess, Gabros. I should have been able to trust you to hold things together while I was away with that idiot Isaac. But no! You lose a ship, then its captain, for God’s sake, and now you don’t know who killed Malakis or even if Nestos is dead! I should have you executed.” His tone was soft, but there was no mistaking the menace. Gabros stayed silent and sweated.

  “I don’t trust this so-called emperor as far as I can toss him,” Pantoleon continued. “His behavior on the trip was very revealing. Mad as a goat, thinks he is next to God in elevation, and would not hesitate to destroy us for a short term gain without thought of consequence. He issues decrees that make no sense and no one knows what to do with them. Not even his Chief minister!”

  Gabros nodded. The storm was moving on and he was no longer in the center of it. He wondered how his master had fared with the emperor. He’d ask the men who’d ridden with Pantoleon later—if he still lived.

  “I have no doubt that avaricious Komnenos prick will make a try for my treasure. I want it to go back onto the ship and be gone from this villa by morning. No one is to know, other than our men. Do you think you can manage that without messing up?” he asked with a curl of his lip.

  Gabros nodded emphatically. “Yes, Lord, I can.”

  “You will stay with the treasure until I decide what to do about it and you. I hope I make myself clear?”

  Gabros bowed his head again and said, “Yes, master, it shall be done; and I shall make sure that the captain will be ready to sail at all times, within a moment’s notice.”

  Pantoleon dipped his head in agreement. Suddenly he felt uneasy in this city. Better to be safe than sorry.

  At that moment there was a commotion at the main doors. One of the guards rushed in to stand at the entrance to his chamber.

  “What is going on out there?” Pantoleon demanded.

  “The Emperor wishes to see you, Master. The messenger from the palace said at once!” the soldier reported.

  Pantoleon exchanged glances with Gabros. “Make sure that nothing goes wrong, and get started right away,” he told him. “I have not even had time to bathe!” he complained. “Tell the messenger that I am on my way,” he called to the soldier, who vanished thankfully back to his duties.

  Pantoleon was met at the palace entrance by Diocles, who was dressed very much as a Byzantine Prime Minister should. His under-robes were of the finest blue silk, while his overcoat could match any of those of Pantoleon’s, who had hurriedly changed out of his riding clothes into something more appropriate for an emperor’s audience. Diocles also wore a furred turban-like hat over his graying locks to fend off the chill; he looked worn and tired from the disruptions of the night before.

  They greeted one another civilly but without any warmth. Diocles was wary of Pantoleon, while Pantoleon understood that Diocles, although old, might still be useful to him because he knew every secret in the palace, and secrets were power.

  “I heard that there were alarms last night?” Pantoleon probed.

  “There was indeed some excitement, and as you know by now, our colleague and friend Malakis was assassinated by some diabolical killer,” Diocles said, his tone noncommittal.

  “Assassinated!” Pantoleon feigned astonishment. “God protect us!”

  “The emperor is, has been a little indisposed this last hour. But he has recovered and is asking for you, Lord.” Diocles had just witnessed another one of the infamous tantrums of his master, and while outwardly he seemed composed, he was still shaken by its intensity.

  Without further words, he led the way. Pantoleon observed a large number of servants running about and much cleaning going on. There appeared to have been quite a disturbance the night before. He wondered how the emperor felt about the incident.

  He was not long in finding out. Diocles ushered him past supplicants, petty nobles and merchants who had gathered like vultures to the smell of carrion. He marveled at how little time it had taken them to assemble. Their resentful looks followed him down the corridorSoldiers admitted them to a small chamber where the emperor sat at a table, disheveled, glowering, and looking decidedly out of sorts.

  The room looked as though it had been partially destroyed by a whirlwind. There were papers, food, and drink spilled on the floor, over which tearful and terrified servants still crouched with mops and rags, attempting to clean it up. Broken furniture was heaped in one corner, and the curtains were torn.

  He was very careful to keep his features impassive as he bowed deeply to his new Master and waited in silence.

  Isaac glanced around. “You, stop what you are doing and get out of here,” he shouted. The servants scuttled out of sight, leaving Isaac, Pantoleon and Diocles alone.

  “Have you any idea what has been going on here?” Isaac asked him. “I am sooo cross! It all happened last night, for God’s sake!” he exclaimed in bemused wonder. “Just before we came back! My Lady Tamura is abed with the vapors. A leopard went into her room while she was there, you know.”

  “Er, no Sire, I didn’t know. How on earth did this happen?”

  Isaac continued as though he had not heard. “My Gatherer of Information was murdered in his own office by nameless assassins! Did you know that?” he demanded.

  Pantoleon looked shocked. “No, Sire, I did no—”

  “Stop interrupting me! There were at least three of them!” Isaac interrupted, and his voice climbed an octave. “Yes, three for sure. One was killed, so we have his body. The remains of it, at least. My pets ate a part of his face. Hah! But they tell me he was dead before then. Had an arrow in his back. The other two got away!”

  “Three assassins you say, Sire?” Pantoleon was still registering this detail when the emperor spoke again. This time he sounded a little more calm.

  “I have come back to my home to find bedlam. Leopards wandering all over the place eating people and assassins killing everyone else! It is disgraceful!”

  “I absolutely agree, Sire. You have appointed someone to investigate this crime, I presume?”

  The emperor gave him a scowl with his slightly bulging brown eyes and a turned-down mouth.

  “You will be my Gatherer of Information henceforth, Exazenos, or whatever you want to call yourself. It will be you. I have no one with enough intelligence to fill the position vacated by Malakis. He was really quite
bright, you know; a little impetuous, but he knew his stuff.”

  Pantoleon could not have disagreed more, but he held his tongue and sent a silent thank you to whomsoever had done the deed. He was now just where he wanted to be! He also sent a silent prayer of thanks to whatever deity was keeping watch over him. He dropped to one knee before the emperor.

  “I would be deeply honored, Sire. I shall serve faithfully unto death. You shall not regret the honor you have bestowed upon me.”

  Isaac flapped his hand. “Very good. Now, I am hungry and in need of relaxation. You may leave. Take up your duties tomorrow. Diocles will help you get acquainted with our people and the staff.”

  Pantoleon and Diocles backed out of the chamber and walked slowly towards the palace entrance.

  “I would like to be the first to congratulate you, Lord Exazenos,” Diocles murmured, as they walked abreast past the still-waiting crowd. He took a gamble and continued softly, “Your predecessor was an incompetent man who really didn’t understand the subtleties of his work.”

  “Thank you, Diocles. I must discover who committed this foul deed as one of my first priorities. Leopards and assassins running about in the palace! Not while I am in charge. I will need to talk to many people, including... ” he paused delicately, “My Lady Tamura. Could that be arranged?”

  Diocles nodded. “I think so, Lord. I shall clear it with His Majesty.”

  “Make sure that you do. I want to see her within a day or so.”