Assassins of Kantara

by James Boschert

  “Tell me, where have you come from?” the figure asked him pleasantly enough.

  “I, er, I am the First Minister for the emperor and um, my name is Diocles,” he responded. He heard a collective intake of breath from the men gathered around them.

  There was a long silence after that, then Talon said, “My name is Sir Talon de Gilles, and I am at your service. What can we do for you, Lord Diocles?”

  “It... it is difficult to say,” Diocles stammered. “You see, Sir Talon, I am here in a very unofficial capacity.”

  “You mean... the emperor does not know you are here?”

  Diocles nodded and ran a nervous hand through what remained of his white hair. He had taken his hat off when he sat down. Then he noticed the trebuchet and his eyes widened.

  Talon noticed the direction of his glance and said, “No, we can’t give it back; it won’t fit through the gates.”

  “The last time I saw that it was in bits,” Diocles murmured, with a twitch of his lips.

  “Why are you here?” Talon asked gently.

  Diocles coughed and then cleared his throat. “You see, there is a man called Exazenos who is now the emperor’s Gatherer of Information. He has replaced the previous man, who came to an untimely end and, well, he is, he is a butcher!” Diocles exclaimed, then put his hand to his mouth as though he were appalled at what he had just said. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “It just came out. But, but it must be said, this man is a monster!”

  “We know about this man you know as Exazenos, Lord Diocles,” Talon said. “More than you.” His tone was dry.

  Diocles’s eyes widened. “You do? Then you know I am not talking nonsense.”

  “No, indeed. But why are you here? Just to tell me about this fellow?”

  “N... No, not just that, Sir Talon. I am here to ask for your help. You, Sir Talon, are known as The Magician. Your followers are called the Assassins of Kantara. All over the island people talk about your powers. Mothers even discipline their children with the threat that you will come and make them disappear in a puff of smoke, or your killers will kidnap them to work for the devils who live inside your mountain!”

  There were low chuckles at this from the men gathered about them, and the green eyes smiled, but Diocles went on. “Can you not do something to help us, Sir? Exazenos must be stopped before he destroys everything, everyone!” Diocles finished with a vague wave of his bony hand.

  “What do you mean, everyone?” Talon asked.

  “I am sure now that he is going to usurp the emperor’s place, and then he will take us all to hell. The Emperor is bad, and I say this who should not, but Exazenos is far worse!” Diocles exclaimed. His hands were beginning to fly about and his deeply lined face took on a haunted look.

  “Sooo… he is not content to serve the emperor, he wants to be the emperor instead. Is that what you are telling me?”

  “Yes, that’s it! He wants to take Isaac down. Can you magine that? He would be impossible. He is impossible right now! Even the emperor is afraid of him. I can tell; it’s one of the reasons I am here.”

  “It couldn’t happen to a nicer man,” one of the masked men commented.

  Talon raised his hand. “I see what you mean. It’s bad enough with the Devil we have without adding to the island’s problems with one who is even more insane?”

  “Well, I wouldn’t have put it quite like that, but yes, that is what is at stake,” Diocles huffed.

  “So because you are so faithful to the monster you work for, you have come to me to take out the monster you don’t like so much?”

  “I, er, um.... Isaac is somewhat controllable, when he is not signing idiotic decrees, but this Exazenos will not be. I fear for everyone, and even you should be concerned, because he will not honor any agreement you have with Isaac.”

  “What agreement?” There was a hard edge to Talon’s reply.

  “Sir, I might be an old man half way to my dotage, but I can read and am quite able to come to conclusions. I know you told him something on that stormy night, and there was a strange dagger sticking out of his pillow. He was scared out of his wits when I came to see him the next morning. Then when he gets home to the palace there is a chest of gold sitting waiting for him and a document which I happen to have seen.”

  The green eyes were smiling behind their cover again. “Lord Diocles, you are a remarkable man. It took courage to come here and talk to me. I appreciate that.”

  “You have no idea, Sir Talon.” Diocles tapped his chest. “I didn’t think my heart would survive it. May I have some more of that very good wine? Where did you get it? Alanya perhaps?”

  “From here, right off my lands, Lord Diocles. I’m glad you like it. Would you like me to supply you with some in Famagusta?”

  “I would be delighted! You will have many customers for a wine such as this. I shall recommend it,” said the old man, who had by now relaxed visibly. Then he frowned, trying to bring them back to the reason for his visit. “Do you think you can do anything about this terrible situation, Sir Talon?”

  “Perhaps,” said Talon. “I might need your help to obtain information, however; news does not travel very fast.”

  “Yes,” Diocles mused. “Anything to establish some calm in these choppy waters. Would message pigeons be of some help?”

  “You took the words right out of my mouth, Sir.” The green eyes smiled again. “I shall provide an escort back to the city gates for you. There are often dangers on the road, and I would not have you come to grief for your pains. You may take some pigeons. I just happen to have some here in the castle. Quite a coincidence! You must also take a bottle or two of wine with you.”

  Several weeks later, two pigeons arrived at the castle. The one from Dimitri informed Talon that Pantoleon was departing for Limassol by ship, as did the message from Diocles, but this one added that he might be going on to Paphos somewhat later in the month.

  The weather was clear and storms were an unlikely occurrence for a while, so Talon decided that the two ships should sail for Paphos and then for Tyre leaving, him and Boethius in the city. Reza and his cutthroats were keyed up for the mission to Syria, while Rostam could hardly wait to be part of the venture. He was going to sail with Henry and be under his command. Irene went on the ship with her father, as it looked for the time being at least that Pantoleon was not venturing very far afield. Jacob was very relieved that finally he was going home, although none of them knew if the situation had changed since his arrival on the island.

  Guy dropped Talon and Boethius, with his daughter, at Paphos, and then the two ships set sail for Tyre, which was set in a south-easterly direction. Reza was now in charge and his mission was to pick up the remains of Talon’s treasure from the Jews of Acre before it was plundered by Lord Joscelin.

  Within a few days they were in sight of land, and Acre was visible on the horizon. Now it became important to be careful, as people who lived on the coastline were alert for pirates and might sound the alarm. The last thing Henry wanted was to be chased by military galleys. Instead they sought out a quiet inlet where they could drop Jacob off.

  Jacob was put ashore just north of Acre on a lonely beach and disappeared into the night. His task was to gather up as much of Talon’s wealth still held by his Jewish compatriots as he could and bring it to the south of Tyre in two weeks, where there would be much less scrutiny. They had arranged a series of agreed signals to decide on where exactly the transfer was to be made.

  Henry’s ship then put off from shore and rejoined Guy, whereupon the two vessels set sail for the area of land belonging to the principality of Antioch just north of Lattakieh: a small harbor tucked into a large cove. They arrived several days later, and once again a single ship nosed into the sheltered waters of the harbor and discharged a cargo of men. These men were led by Reza and they had a dangerous mission to perform, the kind that Reza exulted in, which was precisely why Talon had set him the task.

  It took several days of discreet en
quiry in the small town to discover where Salah Ed Din might be. Most people along the coastline in these parts paid attention to the rumors of his whereabouts, because they sensed danger. Then Reza took his four men and set out on horseback towards Aleppo, where Salah Ed Din had last been heard of by the Christian communities and the caravaners who hovered about the walls.

  Two days later they were passing the ancient city of Apames and then headed Northeast in a straight line for Aleppo.

  “Now is the time to be careful,” Reza told his men. “Do not speak unless you have to, as we have a distinct accent and that might cause suspicion.”

  They were moving into a kind of no man’s land between Antioch and the tribal states nominally controlled by Salah Ed Din’s army. They were all dressed very much like tribal warriors and had no trouble with passing merchants and their camel trains; they simply appeared to be warriors on their way towards the prince’s army. It was easy enough to ask directions and keep moving into an area which became increasingly crowded and busy.

  By now they were passing encampments all along the sides of the old Roman road. Groups of armed men appeared and disappeared, seemingly at random, with larger caravans moving along the road in both directions. Before very long Reza and his men were covered with a fine layer of dust on their clothing and horses, surrounded by the noisy bleating of goats and sheep and the roaring of disgruntled camels.

  Within a couple of days they came in sight of the main army encampment, and they paused on the rise of a hill to take it all in. The army spread out on the plain as far as the eye could see. In the distance was the great fortress of Aleppo that dominated the plains all around. Ten miles west of Aleppo was the grand army of Salah Ed Din. Here were tents of every description. For the most part they were the dark black or tanned coverings of the Beduin, but among these were many tents of a far richer kind that denoted wealthy and powerful princes. There were innumerable herds of animals: from goats and sheep to camels and horses in great numbers. Men on horseback dashed about, creating small clouds of dust with their passing that rose into the evening sky and created a light brown haze. The setting sun to the West was a dark red color as a result.

  “We must find a space for ourselves and then begin our search,” Reza told his men. They had barely said a word to one another for the last two days, but now they had to pretend to be a part of this seething mass of warriors and tribesmen.

  Their needs were simple but water was of concern, so they searched for a well and camped not too far from it, near a group of tents. Having seen to their mounts, the five men settled down to eat and prepare for the night. The calls for prayers resonated across the plain and everyone took out a small mat and faced south by southeast. A low murmur came from the massed population as the prayers were said. No one remarked the newcomers. Men were coming in on a daily basis to be absorbed by the army of the Sultan.

  There was one incident that evening when someone approached them from the nearest camp out of curiosity. The man appeared out of the darkness suddenly enough for Reza and his men to reach for their weapons. Junayd even stood up from his position near the fire.

  The man flinched at this display of martial alertness and said a nervous, “As Salaam Alaikum.”

  Reza stood up and replied, “Wa Alaikum Salaam to you, Hadj.”

  The visitor was indeed a Hadj and was pleased at this show of respect.

  “Have you eaten? We have enough to spare,” he offered.

  “We have eaten, but God bless you for your kindness,” Reza replied.

  “You have just arrived?”

  “Yes, from a long way away to the southeast. We are of the Bani Khalid tribe.”

  The old man started. “You have come a long way,” he said, pulling on his beard. Reza had chosen the name of a tribe feared all over the southern deserts of Mesopotamia. The Bani Khalid were notorious raiders and thieves. They would come out of the desert and pillage an encampment, taking the herds, killing all the menfolk and stealing the women and children.

  “The cause has brought us all the way here. Will you join us for Khaffee?” Reza was well aware that the old man wanted to talk, so this was an offer that he would be unlikely to refuse. The others made way for him to sit amongst them. None spoke, leaving it to Reza to converse with the old man. They exchanged pleasantries and the usual grumbling about too many people, too much dust and not enough fighting with the God dammed Frans.

  “There will be a shortage of water before long,” the old man, whose name was Al Bara, told them.

  “Will the army move then?” Reza asked.

  “In about a week, as I understand it, we will all move nearer to Aleppo. The Great Sultan, may God bless his faithfulness forever, has ordered that we move before the rains come.”

  Reza nodded. That made sense. Should the rains come prematurely the plains would be transformed into a sea of mud. The area around Aleppo was more undulating and people could camp on the hills surrounding the city.

  “Does the Prince reside in the city?”

  The old man shook his head. “No, he is here with us. Whenever the army is on the move he is present.”

  “I have seen little of this camp, as we have only just arrived, but one thing is very curious,” Reza said, as Junayd poured some more of the sweet black liquid into a tiny cup for the old man.

  He took it gratefully and sipped, then he opened his mouth and smacked his lips. “What are you so curious about?” he asked.

  “I see a tower, or what looks like a tower, in the distance. It stands quite alone, which is why I was curious. Is it some kind of siege engine? Those I recognize, but this is unusual.”

  Al Bara laughed. He had only two teeth left on his lower jaw and huge gaps in the upper jaw. “Ha. Ha! No! That is where our Great Leader Salah Ed Din sleeps at night.”

  Reza looked astonished and then skeptical. “Does he not like living in a tent?”

  Again the Hadj chuckled. “The word is that he is fearful of those devils incarnate from the Hashashini who live in the mountains to the West. One Rashid Ed Din, you know of him?” Reza shook his head, although he knew of Rashid Ed Din very well indeed. Al Bara continued to lecture him. “No? He is also known as the School Teacher and has sworn to kill Salah Ed Din one day. Those evil people have tried several times in the past to kill our Great Leader and failed, so he is taking no chances. God damn the Killers.”

  “So he locks himself in there at night?” Reza asked with an incredulous smile.

  “Indeed, and the guards are awake all night around him. No one can enter while he sleeps.”

  “Is that so... ” Reza said quietly.

  Two nights later, while the huge camp slept, Reza gained entrance to the tower. His men were now guarding the wooden building; the regular guards were unconscious, gagged and tied up in the darkness at the base the tower. One of them had had a large ornate key in his possession, which allowed Reza to gain silent entry.

  Salah Ed Din woke with a start to find a dark figure who had only his eyes visible seated on the edge of the bed. “Who are you and how did you get in here?” he demanded.

  “It was easy enough, Lord,” Reza replied.

  “Guards!” Salah Ed Din called. Two guards from outside promptly ran into the room, but they, too, were covered up to their eyes. Reza calmly lit a lantern and sat back. Salah Ed Din stared in alarm. “These are your men?”

  “Yes, Lord.”

  Salah Ed Din had a sense of deja vu. This had happened once before. “Are you here to kill me?” He braced himself. He was a brave man and did not fear death, but masked men who penetrated his best defenses unnerved him.

  “No, my Lord. I am here at the request of my Brother. You might know him. His name is Talon.”

  Salah Ed Din cast his mind back and nodded his head slowly, once. “I remember a Talon from Egypt. A Frankish slave; I watched him play Chogan once. Good player. What does he want from me?”

  “A letter, My Lord. Just a letter.”

  “
Is that all?”

  “Yes, but it has to come from you. I shall explain... ” At a gesture from Reza the two guards retreated, and Reza spent the next ten minutes explaining the reason for his visit to Salah Ed Din. “So you see, Lord, Talon is asking that you remember the favor he did for you a long time ago when you were in Egypt.”

  “He stole one of my ships! I’d have thought that was enough of a favor,” Salah Ed Din rasped.

  “He saved your life from those people who belonged to Rashid Ed Din, Sire. Worth a ship, and also perhaps a letter, don’t you think?”

  For the first time Salah Ed Din smiled. “This is brazen! You are brazen! You have risked much for a letter! Incredible! How does this Talon, this former slave, find people like you to assist him?”

  “Because he is one of us and was trained with me. He is my Brother, and at present he is working hard to protect our families from an acquaintance of yours, Emperor Komnenos of Cyprus. Talon would have come himself otherwise. He does, however, send his most sincere greetings and wishes you well.”

  “Not a very likable man, that Isaac; none of those Greek tyrants are, but he keeps away from my affairs so I don’t mind. So Isaac calls us ‘friends’, does he?”

  “That is Talon’s understanding. A letter from you would help to lock in place a truce between them. Otherwise he would have to resort to other plans, and you know what that means.”

  “Yes,” Salah Ed Din said, with a hard look at Reza, “I do. Very well. I have parchment and ink on that table over there. May I rise and write what is needed?”

  “Thank you, Lord. I think a simple message would be best. Easier to remember, if you know what I mean?”

  Within a few minutes the letter was written and sealed with Salah Ed Din’s own great seal.

  As he handed the parchment over to Reza, Salah Ed Din said, “I did not know such people as you existed outside the ranks of that murderous gang of Batinistas. I still do not approve, but if you are a companion to Talon I can respect that. He did much to save a family in Egypt who are dear to me, and I did receive a message from him after a certain er, battle. He made sure a distant relative was buried properly. That meant a great deal to me.” Almost as an afterthought he asked, “Have you killed all my guards?”