Thief's Tale

by Turney, S. J. A.

  "I'm not good with high places these days. I'll be alright once we're on the walkway behind a parapet, but I can't climb it in the open." He shuddered at the very thought.

  "Then we'll have to go in my way."

  Lykaion opened his mouth to comment, but the smaller of the brothers was already moving down the street past the ruined walls, where he stepped off the main thoroughfare into the gardens, all-but disappearing among the shrubs and trees, the statue bases and the fountains that played their constant tinkling tune.

  As they moved across the small park, Lykaion scurrying along behind his brother, they peered at the legends on the statue bases: VALENS - ANASTASIOS - ANASTASIOS II - LEO IV - NIKOPHOROS PHOCAS. Between these squat blocks that had once borne rulers of the world, others had suffered greater wear and were all-but indecipherable.

  Moments later Lykaion reached the wall of the Pharos and leaned on it, drawing in deep lungfuls of air. Like his brother, he had only walked through the gardens, not run, but the nervous tension had led to him holding his breath as they moved, his eyes flitting this way and that.

  The walls of the great watchtower that represented the terminus of a warning system that covered much of near Asia disappeared upwards a hundred feet and more up into the chilly blue afternoon. Built on three distinct levels, the tower's lowest was a heavy square base with slightly tapering walls of creamy stone, flush-fitting and perfect. Looking up the line of the wall, Lykaion could see the parapet that marked where the first level ended in a fortified walkway before the second level, circular and vertical, began.

  Turning his attention back to his surroundings and starting to worry that perhaps they were taking too long looking suspicious in the open, he leaned round the corner where his brother had disappeared a moment earlier.

  Skiouros was nowhere to be seen.

  In a momentary panic, Lykaion's wide eyes searched this way and that, noting with small gratitude that the windows of the palace seemed to be empty and unoccupied. At least they didn't appear to be being observed, but where had the little thief gone now?

  "Come on up."

  Lykaion craned his neck sharply at the sudden hissed words, only to see his brother's grinning face peering down from the battlements before he disappeared again from sight. Hurrying around the corner, Lykaion strode on to the heavy door with its complex lock that kept the city's warning system secured from tampering only to find the portal standing wide open with no sign of damage.

  Shaking his head irritably at the unfortunate necessity of relying on his brother's sinful skills, Lykaion threw up a quick apology to Allah and begged Mohammed and Isa to forgive the manner of their entrance. Whether it was right or wrong, he was grateful for Skiouros' ability and, as he shut the door behind him and climbed the staircase to the first parapet, he prepared himself for the long wait.

  Chapter 5 – A new use for an old church

  * Persembe (Thursday) evening *

  Skiouros started sharp awake, his hand going reflexively to the knife at his belt before his refocusing eyes picked out the form of Lykaion against the porphyry sky. The last copper-coloured bands of sunlight streaked the air above the horizon, just visible over the roof of the Bucoleon palace. Lykaion's eyes gleamed with alertness, while Skiouros' were still blurry and gritty from the two short stints of sleep he had managed and which, between them, had entirely failed to equal a good full night's worth.

  "Shhh!"

  Skiouros frowned at his brother. He wasn't aware he'd made any sound.

  The pair had waited on the first level parapet of the Pharos tower for only an hour before the younger brother had succumbed to his weariness, pulling his tattered cloak around him, and snuggled down as best he could on the hard stone, falling almost instantly into a deep, dreamless sleep. Lykaion had crouched in a position where he could see down across the small strip of gardens and the wide road to the palace's two entrances without being uncomfortably close to the parapet and the drop beyond, and didn't appear to have moved since then.

  "How long have I been asleep" Skiouros mouthed with almost no sound, blinking away the salty grit.

  Lykaion showed two fingers and then folded one and used the other to point over the parapet. Skiouros slowly unfolded his tired legs and shuffled as quietly and carefully as he could to his knees, peering over the edge.

  It took him a moment to pick out the figures to which his brother was drawing his attention.

  Three people were moving with a slow and confident pace along the street from the palace's main entrance and were passing the Pharos now, just the short stretch of park land separating tower from road. While one was cloaked and could have been almost anyone, the other two were quite clearly Janissary guards.

  Skiouros leaned close to his brother and cupped his hands to Lykaion's ear.

  "He's definitely the one? I can't see his face."

  "He's a Mamluk with Janissary guards" the older brother whispered back. "Don't think the Sultan will allow too many enemy ambassadors into his city at once, so I think we can safely take the chance he's the one, or at least in league with him. He's heading towards the southeast, though; not into the city. Why? There's nothing that way but old Byzantine ruins and poor Turk housing. If he was going anywhere important, he'd have gone up past the hippodrome."

  Skiouros took his hands away from Lykaion's ear, aware that the three men were now far enough away that a low whisper would be lost in the winds that blew colder and wilder this close to the headland.

  "If he's involved in murders and the like, he's probably up to something he needs to keep quiet. He can't do that in crowded Ottoman spaces under the nose of the Sultan, can he? Come on."

  With a nod, Lykaion struggled to his feet, his knees aching from the hard floor. The pair hurried inside, with a quick check to make sure that no one had entered unseen, though the chances were small with Lykaion on watch above the door. Finding the interior empty, the brothers scurried down the stairs and to the front door.

  Gesturing Lykaion aside, Skiouros inched the door open just a crack and peered through. The three men had disappeared from sight along the street, past a section of the old imperial palace wall that had not been demolished. Motioning to Lykaion, he stepped out into the evening chill and pulled the cloak tighter round him before hurrying across the gardens and to the street. His brother loped along behind him with the speed and grace of the wolf for which he was named.

  Opposite them stood the second of the great residences that had been part of the imperial palace. Much of the roof had fallen in through decades of disuse, and the inky sky was visible through the high, decorative windows. Despite the best efforts of the Janissaries in the adjacent palace, Skiouros knew the building to be the haunt of numerous homeless beggars. Momentarily, he prayed the three men had not entered that building. The one time he'd done so, he had quickly realised just how unsafe and precarious the structure was. Some day soon dozens of beggars would be buried in the rubble that the palace was destined to become.

  His prayers were answered as they reached the corner where the garden ended and the main street ran off southeast, and he peered along it, spotting the ambassadorial party some four hundred yards ahead, past the walls. There was no one around on the streets here, and following the three men would be extremely difficult. If the Janissaries were even remotely alert the brothers would stand no chance.

  The pair paused, frustrated for a moment, becoming aware with irritation that they had not thought through their plan beyond waiting for the Mamluk to put in an appearance. Was it even safe to follow him? As the brothers looked around for options, the thief found himself looking up at the purple sky and the silhouette of the rooflines.

  Skiouros smiled and gestured up to the roof of the wooden building next to which they stood, using his fingers to make a walking mime and shrugging the question. Lykaion shook his head vehemently. Again, the younger man thought hard. The street was long and open and if they followed the three men straight, it would only take on
e glance over a shoulder for the guards to spot them. Coming to a decision, he pointed first to himself and then to the roof. Then he pointed at his brother and gestured towards the parallel street that ran behind the houses.

  Lykaion nodded and ran off along the side of the wooden structure. Taking a deep breath, Skiouros grasped one of the planks of wood that jutted slightly from the house's façade and, hoping the noises he was about to make would not draw attention from the occupants, used it to haul himself up to the tiny balcony of the next floor.

  He had used the rooftops of the city several times in the past few years, though mostly in the Phanar district, and only when he had to, given the inherent dangers in the unsafe wooden constructions. The roofs often provided an avenue of escape when all other routes appeared blocked, for many of the passages and alleyways could be jumped by a man with a healthy understanding of his own abilities and control of his fears. In addition, the poor quality of the timber structures meant plenty of hand and footholds, and a man did not have to be an expert to achieve the roofline.

  A few seconds was all it took the thief to drag himself onto the more or less flat roof with its gentle camber to keep the house clear of rain and snow. Without pause, knowing that time was of as much essence as was subtlety, Skiouros sprang to his feet and began to run along the row of houses.

  The roofs were of varying heights but with all the buildings in the area consisting of only two storeys the difference was only a few feet each time and the thief bounded and loped along each roof with a delicate jump up or down as required. The gaps between houses were rarely more than two or three feet and several had actually settled into leaning against one another, closing the gap at the top, so there was little danger or effort really required - he had seen the poor boys of the city making games of it.

  As he sprinted along the row, Skiouros dipped first to one side and then, jumping the dark, stinking alley between the housing rows, to the other, making sure the three were still visible in the street, and gesturing to Lykaion in the parallel road, who looked up and nodded, picking up the pace a little.

  Sure-footed and swift, the thief skipped from roof to roof, catching up with their quarry while moving with relative silence in the whistling wind.

  As they reached the ruined walls of the palace complex, which presented no barrier at roof level, Skiouros took another glance down into the street and noted the three men approaching the Nea Ekklasia - a large, ancient Byzantine structure close to the ruined wall, but on the outside, beyond the former palace grounds.

  The building was a church, or had been - a big one too - and was being reused by the Turks for some government or military purpose. He had passed it a number of times over the years, and had noted on every occasion the Janissary guards at the main door, with the other entrances all bricked up. Why in the name of God would the Mamluk be going there?

  Pausing, his interest piqued, Skiouros watched with narrowed eyes as the Janissaries on guard at the door nodded to their counterparts and then calmly opened the door and stood aside for the Mamluk to pass within. The ambassador's escort, however, remained outside with the door guards, where they stood blowing on their cold knuckles and chatting casually in the manner of unobserved soldiers everywhere.

  With a frustrated sigh, Skiouros realised that there was no feasible way to follow the man within. The doors and windows around the church's ground floor were well sealed, as he'd tested on other occasions and, with guards on the front, there was little or no chance of gaining access. Crossing the house and jumping the narrow alley, he moved to the parallel street and had to hiss to attract the attention of Lykaion, who was already moving ahead.

  The older brother stopped and looked up to see Skiouros clambering down the building's side, using the protruding edges of boards and the balconies to grip and pivot.

  "What's happened? You haven't lost them?"

  "Hardly. They went into the Nea Ekklasia."

  A hint of worry pervaded Lykaion's taught expression.

  "What's the matter?" Skiouros asked, his brow furrowing.

  "That's our main powder store for the city - the Nea Ekklasia here and the Anemas Tower on the walls, anyway. What in the name of Allah would he want in there? And why would the guards let him in? There were guards, yes?"

  "Yes. What sort of powd…" began Skiouros, pausing as his eyes widened. "You mean gunpowder?"

  "Gunpowder, yes. We have to get in there, little brother."

  "I'm not all that sure I want to. That stuff makes me nervous. Anyway, the place is sealed tighter than a nun's undergarments."

  Lykaion gave him a disapproving look and tapped his lip.

  "Can you not break in? Like you did at the Pharos?"

  "Not this place. The lesser doors were bricked up. I've looked before. There is an entrance from the old portico garden, but that's solid as the Clashing rocks and barred from the inside."

  "I won't ask why you've looked. I know the windows were sealed up with timber, too; I've been inside a couple of times on duty. I can't imagine what the Mamluk is after, but I need to know. Find us a way in, Skiouros."

  The thief breathed a heavy sigh and scratched his head.

  "Do you get birds in there?"

  "What?"

  "Birds. Flapping things with feathers?"

  Lykaion frowned in irritation. "All too often. They shit on everything when they get trapped inside, and we find the odd dead one.

  "Well if they can get in that means at least one of the windows is accessible."

  The older brother shook his head. "All the windows are sealed over with wood."

  "Logic tells us otherwise - pigeons are resilient, but I've never seen one pass through a solid plank of wood yet. If all the windows you've seen are boarded up, though, then we're probably looking at the domes. I can't imagine your friends bothered boarding up the windows up there."

  Lykaion's eyes widened. "Not a chance!"

  "You want in? Then you're going to have to climb. I'll help you, though."

  "I can't." The renegade Janissary had suddenly gone very pale and Skiouros noted a nervous shake to the man.

  "Then we have to walk away and forget the whole thing. Remember your vow at the altar of Saint Polyeuktos? Just give the word and we can make our way to the harbour and book a passage to Crete. I know I will be a lot happier."

  A look of helpless desperation fell on the older brother's face and he walked forward, Skiouros padding along behind. A hundred yards further on, they reached the end of the street and Lykaion peered cautiously around the corner. The once-great church of the Nea Ekklasia stood in its own open ground as though the Ottoman structures were too nervous to encroach upon its ancient space. Four Janissaries huddled at the door, deep in conversation and apparently paying no attention to the world around them.

  Lykaion's eyes slid upwards from the guards, past the great, monumental doors, up to the sloping tile roof that covered the narthex - the front porch - and past that to the main wall of the church with its arched windows displaying only blank timber. As his mind furnished him with a height estimate of perhaps sixty feet, he shivered. Above that, the next sloping tile roof marked the top of the church itself, above which rose five domes - four smaller protrusions surrounding a larger central one. Skiouros was right. Even from here he could see the difference in colour as the moonlight shone on the glass in the dome windows.

  There was a way in.

  Lykaion felt the distinct urge to retch.

  To give in to his fears, though, was essentially to abandon all hope of unravelling this nightmare. It would mean admitting defeat to Skiouros and taking his offer of flight to the assumed safety of a foreign land.

  No. He would not flee.

  "How do we go about it?"

  Skiouros, at his shoulder, raised his brow in surprise, but concentrated on his answer, his eyes roving across the building's façade.

  "We get round the back of the church, away from the guards. First we get up onto the lowest roo
f. That should be easy enough, 'cause there's a huge porticoed garden attached to the back."

  "Can we not just get into that garden?"

  Skiouros shook his head. "You can, and I've done it, but remember what I said? The only door into the church from there is very solid and locked and barred from the inside. I've looked at it before."

  Lykaion nodded unhappily as his brother resumed his plan.

  "From the first roof, there's a side aisle with a second roof maybe fifteen feet further up. The whole building's good Byzantine brickwork with lots of good hand and foot holds, so we get onto that side roof and then to the central cross of the church. The only tricky parts will be each time we get to a roof section, which'll create an overhang. I'll go first and I can pull you up them. Then, when we're on the roof, we can just walk the slopes to the dome and… well from there we'll have to see what we can do. I've never been inside."

  Lykaion swallowed nervously.

  "I think that might be a problem. Most of the interior is just one big open space and the big dome's above that. The smaller ones I don't know about."

  "Come on. Let's find out."

  Lykaion nodded nervously as Skiouros took a quick look at the guards by the door and then stepped confidently out into the open, affecting a slight limp as he moved from the street end around the side of the Nea Ekklasia as if simply passing by. Lykaion swallowed noisily, paused for a count of fifty, and then followed, trying no such deception. Two limping men close together would start to look idiotic - like some sort of disabled parade. Quickly, he caught up with Skiouros, only catching the guards out of the corner of his eye - to look across at them directly might draw too much attention. The four men glanced at him but paid no further heed, returning to their private conversation.

  The far side of the church presented a potential climb that sent a cold shiver through Lykaion, but he did not have much time to study it as Skiouros was already moving to the wall. Despite the open space, the darkness of the evening and the cold in the streets which was keeping most people indoors, there was always the possibility of a stray passer-by happening upon them moving furtively around the former church or scaling its walls. Indeed, it would only take a lucky local peering out of his window at the right time and in the right direction and they could be undone.