John drew a breath to protest, but thought better of it. “Yes, my lord.”
Maria Zoë raised her eyebrows, but waited to see what her husband had in mind.
Balian waited until he heard the door shut with a clunk. Then he announced: “John is fifteen and a half. If I were dead, he would have come of age. He’s been in your service for two years, and you have done well by him. He has matured fast and excellently. He is ready for knighthood. I would like to confer it on him at his sixteenth birthday in April. Meanwhile I would like to take him with us, for my lady and I will travel together, and I would commend to you my younger son to take his place.”
“Philip? He’s not exactly a comparable replacement,” Aimery noted wryly, but with a twitch of a smile. “I could offer to let you take Guy—” Eschiva’s gasp was audible to all of them, and Aimery smiled at her—“but as I was about to say, I can’t bear to be separated from him just yet. So take John and leave Philip with me.”
“Thank you. Now, what terms do you authorize me to negotiate?”
“What was your mandate from King Richard?”
“The best deal possible.”
Aimery nodded. “I want peace, Balian. I don’t just want Toron returned, I want an end to the insurrection. I want people to be safe traveling on my roads, regardless of what faith they are. I want people to be safe to go about their daily business, no matter what that is. I want crops sowed and harvested, not burned in the fields. I want—peace.”
Balian nodded, and then crossed himself. “In the Name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Ghost. Amen.”
Chapter Fourteen
A Lawless Land
Cyprus
February 1195
AFTER THE SLEEPLESS NIGHT AND THE encounter with “Janis,” Lakis was having difficulty concentrating. Luckily for him, Master Afanas appeared to be feeling guilty about his callous reaction to the willful destruction of Lakis’ box the day before, or maybe he was just preoccupied with something else. In any case, he had allowed Lakis to take the morning off, and he’d largely left him alone since his return.
Lakis selected new wood carefully, then traced the outlines of the pattern he intended to carve on the first panel. As he worked he kept going over his conversation with “Janis.” He wanted to be angry and full of hatred, but he wasn’t. Instead he kept seeing the smile with which “Janis” had approached him. He’d been so glad to see him—like nobody else in the world since his parents had died. His aunt and uncle certainly never greeted him with a smile like that!
A customer came into the shop in front of the workshop, and Master Afanas rushed to greet her. Lakis looked up out of mild curiosity, but from where he sat he couldn’t see much except that it was a woman in a richly embroidered surcoat. Women like that didn’t come to the shop very often; they usually sent their servants. Janis was curious, but the other apprentices were so shamelessly peering out the door, jabbing each other, and giggling that Lakis became uninterested. He hated them!
He turned his eyes back to his work, polished the surface of the wood with the back of his sleeve, and picked up a fine chisel. Fragments of conversation filtered through the door, and he noted the cultivated but low-pitched voice of the woman: “… your reputation,” “source your ivory,” “book covers.” Janis had once talked about carving book covers, Lakis remembered, and realized now that he was probably literate. The lady in the showroom said something about “… such a beautiful box . . . very rare . . . your workshop,” and the other apprentices scatted back to their workbenches.
When Master Afanas appeared in the door, gesturing for a lady to precede him into the workshop, they were all back at their places and studiously pretending disinterest. Lakis, in contrast, glanced up and caught his breath: not only was the woman dressed in embroidered silk, she was strikingly beautiful despite being no longer young, and unlike most rich women, she was trim and still shapely rather than fat. Her eyes swept the room alertly, looking at each of the apprentices in turn, but then turned her head slightly to listen to someone behind her. Before Lakis could sort out what was happening, she was coming straight towards him, asking: “Are you Lakis?”
Lakis’ jaw dropped, and then as he gaped at the lady, he registered that “Janis” was following in her wake. It could only be his mother! Lakis scrambled off his workbench as fast as he could and dropped onto his knees. “It’s the Comnena!” he hissed at his fellow apprentices, shocked that they were so rude as to stay sitting.
Master Afanas’ head snapped around. “My lady?” he asked, but then dropped to one knee to be safe rather than awaiting an answer.
“That’s not necessary,” the Comnena assured them, gesturing for them all to get up again—but while Master Afanas and the other apprentices obeyed, Lakis remained firmly on his knees with his eyes down.
“I’m interested in this boy,” she said, standing directly before him, but addressing Master Afanas. “What are the terms of his contract?”
Master Afanas cleared his throat. “He, um, being without a sponsor, I’ve taken him on for just a year as a charity case. He gets free bed and meals—”
“One!” Lakis couldn’t resist throwing out in a flare of defiance.
“—and a half-day off every month,” Master Afanas ended complacently.
“Hmm, but evidently no shoes, no work clothes, and no bath money,” the imperial lady noted, making Lakis cringe to think she could smell how dirty he was. He curled the toes of his filthy bare feet.
“If he completes his first year satisfactorily, I will pay for a set of work clothes,” Master Afanas declared, “but before I took him in, he was a beggar. He ran away from his last master, and I was not going to spend money on him until he had proven himself.”
The Comnena gave Master Afanas a look so contemptuous that Lakis almost laughed. Then she remarked, “This boy’s parents and sisters were burned alive by the Franks, Master Afanas. Don’t you think you could have found it in your heart to be a little more charitable?”
Master Afanas’ expression of astonishment was enough to make Lakis look down and bite his lips to keep from laughing. “I had no idea, my lady,” the master craftsman assured her. “Not a clue. Lakis never said anything about it.” To be fair, that was true, Lakis thought, but he still suspected that the Master’s astonishment pertained more to the fact that the Comnena referred to “the Franks” in a tone that suggested disapproval.
“I wish my confessor, Father Angelus, to have a word with the boy in private, while you and I discuss more reasonable terms of service. I am prepared to sponsor the boy.” With a rustle of silk she turned away and returned to the shop, leaving Lakis to gape after her.
Then a Greek priest was smiling down at him and offering his hand. “Will you come with me, Lakis?”
“Yes, father, but . . . ” Lakis looked around, confused. Had he heard right? The Comnena was going to sponsor him? Get him better conditions of work? All because of “Janis.” Lakis risked a glance at the other youth, who was standing in the doorway between the showroom and the workshop. He was smiling tentatively at Lakis, and Lakis felt intensely ashamed of his behavior this morning. But what had been in the box? He’d been so certain it was something terrible, something that would make Janis and the despot angry. He looked at the Greek priest in bewilderment.
The man looked like he was in his early fifties, with a lined, tanned face and salt-and-pepper beard. His eyes were gentle and his smile genuine. “Where does that door lead?” he asked as Lakis looked at him.
“That’s just the woodshed,” Lakis explained.
“Can we step inside?”
Lakis nodded vigorously and led the way, in a hurry to get away from the stares of the other apprentices. He closed the door behind him and they stood in the dusty little room, where the wood was stacked neatly by variety, age, and length. Sawdust softened the floor underneath and drifted in the air. The room had no window, so the only light came from under the crack of the door they had just closed.
It took a while for their eyes to adjust, and neither spoke.
Finally the priest started softly, “Lakis, this morning you brought Lord John—Janis—a beautiful box inlaid with mother-of-pearl.”
Christ help me! Lakis thought, swallowing hard.
“Where did you get it?”
“Please don’t ask me that! Please!” Lakis begged.
Father Angelus nodded. “I understand. You think we want to hurt the man who brought it.”
“Don’t you?”
“No. Not at all. My lord of Ibelin has been entrusted with an embassy to the man. Lord Aimery wishes to negotiate with him about the release of the abbot of Antiphonitis and his brothers. You want to see the abbot and brothers released safely, don’t you?”
Lakis nodded vigorously.
“That will only happen if the Franks can meet and talk with men who sent that box.”
“Why? They can just let them go, can’t they?” Lakis countered.
“Unfortunately, it’s not that simple. You see, the men who sent that box have taken a Frankish lord hostage and are holding him in an unknown place. The Franks won’t release the good abbot and his brothers unless they are certain that the Frankish lord will be released in exchange. The lives of nine men depend on you enabling us to establish contact with the men who hold the Frankish nobleman hostage.”
Lakis shook his head. “I can’t help you.”
“Can’t or won’t?” Father Angelus pressed him, but not unkindly.
“Can’t!” Lakis insisted.
“Why not?”
Lakis shrugged his shoulders. “Because I don’t know. The man who brought the box to me was Brother Zotikos. He’s a brother of Antiphonitis, too, but he wasn’t there when the others were arrested, so he’s still free. He found me here—”
“Why would he want to find you, Lakis? Who are you to him?”
“My father’s mill was located below Antiphonitis. When Lusignan’s wolves came and started burning everything, my father sent me to the brothers for help. Only they couldn’t help. Not against Frankish knights and sergeants! My parents and sisters were burned alive, and the brothers of Antiphonitis let me live with them until they could get word to my uncle about what happened. Then I had to go live with my uncle in Karpasia. That’s how Brother Zotikos knows me.”
“Why did he seek you out?”
“He needed someone to deliver the box. He said I shouldn’t open it. He said—What was in it?”
“A message. Just a message. Or rather, a threat to kill the Lord of Toron if anything happened to the abbot and his brothers. Why did he think you could deliver the box?”
Lakis shrugged, ashamed to say anything about God’s will to a priest. “Just because I make boxes. I could take it as a gift from my master, he said.”
Father Angelus nodded. “And you don’t know where he might be now?”
Lakis shook his head vigorously. “He left as soon as he’d turned over the box. He didn’t stay more than a quarter-hour.”
Father Angelus nodded again, although Lakis wasn’t sure he believed him. “Thank you for telling me all you know, Lakis,” the priest continued in an even voice. “If God blesses us, we will save many lives—not just the nine now at stake, but many more to come—because Lord Aimery truly wants peace on this island, and so do the Lord of Ibelin and his lady. Now, if you have nothing more to share with me . . . ” The priest gave Janis another chance to confide more information, but Janis pressed his lips together stubbornly.
Father Angelus concluded he would get no more out of Lakis at this time, and with a smile suggested, “Let’s return to the others,” as he opened the door and held it for Lakis. In the workshop the other boys stared at them, but Father Angelus ignored them. They crossed the room to where “Janis” was still waiting for them. At a nod from Father Angelus, Janis broke into a broad smile and gestured for Lakis to come with him into the shop.
In the shop, the Comnena turned to smile at the youths, and then asked Lakis seriously, “So, young man, what do you think of these terms: three meals a day, a half-day off each week and a full day at the end of each month, a work apron and work shoes once a year, and an allowance of a two deniers per week?”
Lakis’ eyes widened in amazement at these terms; they would make him equal to the other apprentices. He wouldn’t be the “beggar” anymore.
“Good.” She turned back to Master Afanas. “Then we are agreed on the terms for the next two years.”
Lakis caught his breath and looked at his master. Two more years would enable him to finish his apprenticeship properly. He’d be a genuine journeyman if he could stay two more full years. Master Afanas nodded without noticeable hesitation or reluctance.
The Comnena turned back to Lakis and gestured to Father Angelus. He understood her gesture and produced a purse that he handed over to her. She removed two silver bezants and offered them to Lakis. He just stared at them. He’d never seen so much money all at once in his life.
“This is your allowance from the last year that Master Afanas failed to pay you. I am donating it now so you can get yourself some proper clothes, some shoes, and a haircut, and you should still have money left over for the baths.”
Lakis looked up at her. It wasn’t that he had a problem accepting alms; he’d been a beggar, after all. He just couldn’t grasp his sudden change in fortune.
“It’s not charity, Lakis. You’ve earned this,” she told him, mistaking his hesitation for pride.
“Thank you, my lady! Thank you!” Lakis held up his hands and she dropped the coins into them as Lakis glanced over his shoulder at Janis, who was smiling more broadly than ever.
“I will send John over to check on you now and again, Lakis. I am hopeful that you will work diligently and develop skills that will make you self-sufficient in due time.”
Lakis nodded. “Yes, my lady.”
“Then take your day off and go buy yourself your clothes and have a bath—or two!” The smile she gave him as she said this was dazzling, and left Lakis so dazed he just stood rooted to the spot as she departed with Janis and Father Angelus in tow.
When they were out of hearing, Maria Zoë asked her confessor, “Well?”
“He could only tell us that the man who gave him the box was a brother from Antiphonitis. Apparently he was traveling and so escaped arrest when Barlais’ men came for the abbot. Very likely he wasn’t there because he was engaged in stirring up trouble,” Father Angelus added with a sour expression.
“Did he give a name?” John asked anxiously.
“Brother Zotikos.”
“That’s it!” John exclaimed, excited. “I couldn’t remember, but I’m sure that’s it. It’s the monk who was so angry and bitter at Kolossi! I’m sure he was behind the fire there! And he was an outsider. The priest, Father Andronikos, clearly objected to the fires, saying the destruction of the factory had only put people out of work and furthermore would bring retribution on the innocent villagers. Father Andronikos cared about his flock, but Brother Zotikos was an outsider and didn’t give a damn what happened to them. In fact, he might even have been the same man who told the men in the tavern at Famagusta to kill Aimery and me. . . .”
His mother and Father Angelus were staring at him, astonished. After a moment his mother asked, “Where do we find him?”
“I don’t know,” John admitted, a little deflated, but then he brightened. “But we can start by going to Kolossi and finding Father Andronikos. He agreed to see us again, and I’m sure he will support our efforts to bring peace. He understands that the violence is hurting the people of Cyprus as much as it hurts us.”
Kolossi, February 1195
It started to snow sometime during the night, and by the time they were ready to depart Limassol, it was already collecting in cracks and shadows. The Templars questioned if it was wise to proceed to Kolossi, and Maria Zoë at once agreed to let her new serving woman, Dimitra, remain behind in the warmth and security of the commandery. Balian was cons
iderably more reluctant to reduce their escort, but the Templars assured them there had been no further signs of trouble since the attack on the sugar factory. “We think the troublemakers moved on—west. All the recent trouble has been around Paphos.”
So Ibelin agreed to let the bulk of his knights with their squires remain in the comfort of Limassol, and proceeded with just John as their guide, Amalric and Georgios to look after their horses and be on hand for errands, and Sir Galvin, an aging Scotsman with the strength of a bull, as extra protection.
They made good progress at first, and when they reached the ruins of Kolossi, the sun broke through the cloud cover and began to melt the snow that had already fallen. This seduced them into spending longer than initially intended looking over the gutted factory. As John had anticipated, his father identified strongly with the Hospitallers and kept shaking his head in mute distress at the scale of the destruction.
It was thus noon before they were ready to proceed to the village in which John had encountered Father Andronikos. By then the sun was lost again behind thick, low clouds that threatened new snow. Ibelin wondered out loud whether they ought to return to Limassol, with a significant look at his wife.
“We didn’t come all this way in the cold to see ruins, but to talk to the priest,” she answered, turning on her son. “How much farther is it, John?”
“Not more than a half-hour ride, if we hurry.”
“All right,” his father agreed. They remounted, trotted back to the main road, and there took up a gentle canter, but they still didn’t make it before the storm broke. It came down out of the Troodos Mountains with a vengeance, and suddenly they were being lashed by freezing rain and gale-force winds. There was, however, nothing to do but keep going. Balian rode around to be to windward of Maria Zoë, and he ordered Sir Galvin to ride ahead and be sure they weren’t surprised by anything.
By the time the village with its low church came into sight, they were all soaked through. They made immediately for the church to get out of the sleet, tethering the horses in the imperfect lee of the little structure. While the church offered some shelter from the sleet and wind, it had no fireplace and was bitterly cold. John at once volunteered to go in search of the priest.
The Last Crusader Kingdom Page 28