Storms of Retribution

by James Boschert

  Aeneas liked to assume the attire of a man of means; he had aspirations to become eventually a member of the upper class. His attire almost, but not quite, resembled that of a senator. His tunic was white, and he wore something akin to a toga. Anyone not familiar with the details of the garb might indeed mistake him for one of that august club.

  He was careful, however, not to dress too obviously. To be caught dressing above his station could lead to reprimands—even dismissal. His title as the Undersecretary for the Treasury of the Palace of Porphyrogennetos, a satisfying and lengthy title, gained him some respect and modest earnings, although he still had a way to go before he could put his name forward as a senator. He would need property for that. He was employed because he had a very good head for figures, and the treasury desperately needed a numerically imaginative staff these days.

  After the destruction wrought by the late Andronikos Komnenos, who had been killed by an angry mob and hung by his heels from the very gates of Blachernae palace, the empire had struggled to recover financially. His department was taking the brunt of the new Emperor’s frustration.

  His department chief had sent a terse message, ordering him to appear for an audience with the Emperor. Aeneas thought he knew the reason why. He had spent the last year hunting for clues to the disappearance of the gold that had vanished during the coup, and had excitedly reported to his chief that he might now know its whereabouts, or at least its destination.

  After painstaking research and much questioning of people, both willing and unwilling, for months on end, several clues had surfaced which had led him to a villa perched on the Second hill of the city of Constantinople where a family called Kalothesos had once resided. He had gone to the villa on his own and found it in very sorry condition and all but deserted, except for a man who called himself Alexios Kalothesos, who claimed to be the son of the former famous senator, Damianus Kalothesos.

  At first skeptical, Aeneas had eventually concluded that, while the man was prematurely aged and infirm, dressed in threadbare clothing while existing on an estate that must be worth hundreds of thousands of dinars, he might well be whom he claimed to be. There was a companion of sorts with him, and two scruffy, surly servants who were barely civil towards the visitor.

  Alexios, however, if that was who it was, had been polite. He had offered some vinegary wine, with apologies, and had made his guest as welcome as his means allowed. The servants made themselves scarce. Aeneas was reluctant to explain the purpose of his visit, but finally, after some sparring, he had opened up enough to explain that he was trying to follow the trail of one Exazenos, who had disappeared just before the city mob had captured the Emperor and butchered him.

  The reaction from Alexios surprised him. It was one of shock and rage. “Yes, he was here! Damn him and all his family to hell!” the thin, worn out man shouted.

  “Stephan!” he called out. “There is someone here who wants to know about Exazenos.” He practically spat the name. The man Stephan appeared like a djinn. “Who is asking?” he demanded, his tone truculent.

  “Yes, exactly who are you?” Alexios spoke a little more aggressively. Aeneas decided that these two scarecrows and their sullen servants were perhaps dangerous, and as he had come alone he decided candor might be the better strategy.

  “My name is Aeneas; I am the Undersecretary of the Treasury. The Royal Treasury,” he added pompously for emphasis. “It is known that the vaults of the palace were plundered, in fact the entire palace was plundered, but it is a matter of record that the vaults were almost empty when the mob arrived to steal whatever they could. A huge amount of gold was removed by this man Exazenos. He actually signed for it!” He stopped and shook his head at the sheer effrontery of the act.

  The two men listening were shaking their heads, dry amusement written all over their emaciated and deeply lined features. “What is so funny?” Aeneas demanded, somewhat testily. They looked like vagabonds squatting in this formerly beautiful estate. Who were they to mock him?

  “Well, Mister Undersecretary, we know where it went after leaving the palace,” Alexios stated with conviction. “It was here!”

  “Here?” Aeneas almost gobbled with surprise, but also satisfaction. He had been right after all, despite the skepticism of his boss. The two men went on to describe their escape during the chaos of the revolution and their subsequent arrival at the villa, only to discover the place swarming with mercenaries. “You do know who Exazenos really is?” Stephan asked.

  Exasperated by the question, Aeneas responded. “Everyone knows who he is! He is a monster who tortured and killed for the Emperor. His name struck fear into all who heard it.”

  “His real name was Pantoleon. Does that ring any bells?” Alexios demanded.

  Aeneas thought for a moment, then it dawned on him. “You don’t mean… the Pantoleon? The famous charioteer? But he died at the Battle of Myriokephalon! Everyone knows that,” he scoffed.

  Stephan and Alexios shook their heads with bitter laughs. “Oh no, he didn’t,” Stephan said. “He came back, but as the monster Exazenos. Alexios heard it from his own lips, curse that demon deep into hell. He tortured both of us! When the palace fell he came here. He must have brought the gold with him prior to leaving the city.”

  “So you think he took the gold and fled the city?” Aeneas asked, to be sure that he heard correctly.

  “When we arrived, after being released from prison, his men chased us off. The next day we came back with reinforcements to have it out with them, but they had gone, disappeared into thin air!” Alexios waved his thin arms in the air, his bearded face animated.

  “There was evidence that transport had been used. One wagon had been left behind because it had broken a wheel. The old man who was our gateman mentioned that several wagons, heavily guarded and drawn by oxen, had left in the dead of night. They went downhill towards the port. At the time no one paid him any attention; probably thought he was senile. He died a few months ago, but he was sure. Pantoleon, Exazenos, however you want to call him, was here all right. He chose his moment. When everyone was preoccupied at the palace, he and his men vanished.”

  “How could he have left with so much cargo?” Aeneas demanded, his tone skeptical. “Gold is heavy stuff, and there was a lot of it! He could never have left via the city gates. The mob was there at every portal, making sure no one escaped, least of all the rich merchants. They were checking everyone’s property for precisely this kind of thing. He could not have made it past them!”

  “He left by sea! There could have been no other way!” Alexios stated firmly.

  “Do you have any idea as to where he might have gone?”

  “Not really. Remember, the Franks were about to beat down the doors of the City. The Arabs would have welcomed him, confiscated the gold and tossed him back to us to execute just for their amusement. The Lord William of Sicily has no love for any of us, so his Normans would have killed him for much the same reason. There are not many places he could have gone, when you think about it. I doubt it would have been the Kingdom of Jerusalem. He would have stood out there like a sore thumb. Those Latins are a miserable lot. Perhaps Syria, or one of the islands? I don’t know.”

  Aeneas had left it at that. He had taken his leave of the two gaunt vagabonds and gone home with his mind in turmoil. Where could this Exazenos, as he had been known, or Pantoleon as he was originally, have gone? A wagon train of gold is not so easy to hide. Sooner or later someone would have observed something. He was sure of it.

  Days later, the next clue had appeared when a servant announced there was a boy at the palace gates who wanted to see him. The boy had a piece of paper that he would give to no one except Aeneas, despite being chased off by the guards on several occasions. Aeneas had finally gone out to see what the urchin wanted. All the boy did was to ask his name, thrust a piece of paper into his hand, and vanish into the crowded street. Peering after the boy, Aeneas unfolded the scrap of paper. Then he read the note.

&nb
sp; It read: We know where it went. Alexios.

  Aeneas wasted no time. He took a two-man litter to the villa and left the sweating men at the gates, telling them to wait for him. They were glad to rest, as he was not a lightweight. He hastened along the driveway towards the villa. It was mid morning on a bright April day, and despite his haste he could not fail to notice how well laid out the estate had once been.

  Stephan let him in with a sardonic grimace. “Didn’t take you long, did it?” he remarked. “Come on, they are in the living area.”

  A stranger who appeared to be a merchant was seated opposite Alexios by the empty fireplace. He was clearly in better health than the other two, and much better clad. Everything about the house had a look of neglect, but Aeneas didn’t pay much attention to his surroundings now, he was too eager for the news. His gaze was on the stranger, who looked up, then stood to meet him. Alexios didn’t stir from his chair. He looked emotionally drained.

  “Secretary Aeneas, meet Merchant Giorgios, a well traveled man,” he said in his crisp, upper-class accent. “Tell him what you know, Giorgios.” Alexios took a swig of wine, as though to settle his emotions. Something of importance had passed between this merchant and Alexios, but Aeneas didn’t think it was only about Pantoleon.

  “I have just come back from Rhodes and several other islands, Master Secretary,” Giorgios informed Aeneas, who looked his enquiry with wide eyes as though to say.“Well, get on with it, man!” Giorgios swallowed nervously.

  “I came here not knowing the Master Alexios was alive and was shocked to find him here. We all thought he had died in… in the dungeons.”

  Aeneas fought to control his impatience. “What has this got to do with my mission?”

  “The man everyone called Exazenos was in Cyprus, Lord.”

  Aeneas gaped. “Cyprus?” His mind began to race. Who ruled Cyprus these days? In these chaotic times it could be almost anyone.

  “How… how long ago was this?” he demanded.

  “A few months ago.”

  “Is he still there?”

  “No, Lord, he vanished several months before I arrived.”

  Aeneas exclaimed and looked about him with frustration. The trail had gone cold again.

  Giorgios held up his hand. “There is something odd about the whole thing, Lord.”

  “What is it?” Aeneas snapped.

  “Rumor has it that almost to the day Exazenos vanished, the Emperor, Isaac Komnenos, came into a lot of money, rather suddenly. He did not have very much before. Everyone hates him because he visits cities like Larnaca and robs the merchants blind. Rumors are everywhere about how he came by that wealth. There was also a great deal of excitement in Paphos around that time, from what I heard.”

  “So the trail might not be cold just yet?” Aeneas asked.

  “There are many rumors. Some say that the Lord Talon might have had something to do with there disappearance of Exazenos. But no one knows for sure.”

  “Who is Lord Talon?”

  “Hmm… one really interesting person. You don’t want to get on his wrong side,” Alexios commented with a short bark of laughter. He took another swig of the execrable wine and grimaced. “God, I wish Father were still here to make something drinkable,” he complained.

  “We will tell you what we know,” Stephan said to Aeneas.

  The day after the encounter at the villa, as he walked into his chief’s office, Aeneas considered what he would say, but he was given little chance to go into any detail.

  “Where have you been? We can’t keep His Majesty waiting!”

  His chief hastily led him along the long corridors, past tall, blond-haired, stoic Varangian guards posted at most doorways, until they arrived at one of the audience rooms. This one was a smaller chamber, and very private. There was only the one door, and no windows. Evidently the Emperor Isaac Angelos wanted to keep this visit quiet. He had inherited the empire through violence that he himself had not instigated, only to find a treasury that was virtually empty, and it was causing him some serious headaches. When the two secretaries were ushered in and had gone through the ceremonies of obeisance, he indicated that they should stand.

  He was a man of medium height, with a well trimmed beard; for this audience he had not worn the customary high crown, merely a silk hat without a rim, its bright flowery pattern exactly matching the long silk robe he wore.

  “I have been informed by the Chief Secretary of the Treasury that you have something to tell us, Master Undersecretary.” The Emperor addressed Aeneas directly, who ducked his head, glanced at his chief, and then said, “Your Majesty, I am honored to be here. After several months of intensive investigation I have found where the man called Exazenos went after the rev… after the, er, death of, um, your predecessor, Sire,” he stammered.

  Isaac Angelos threw a glance at the Chief Secretary. “This is good news, isn’t it?” He frowned, as though not sure whether it were or not. “Where did the foul traitor go?”

  “Er… to Cyprus, Sire. At least that is where the trail leads thus far,” Aeneas stated. “But our sources tell me that he has disappeared under very strange circumstances. There are rumors that quantities of gold found their way into the coffers of the pretender Isaac Komnenos, Sire.” He stopped at that point and waited.

  The Emperor’s eyes widened, and for a long moment he stared hard at the two men in front of him. His dark brown eyes were tired, but now they expressed anger.

  “I could send a fleet and an army to take back that which is mine, and not just the gold. The whole island of Cyprus,” he murmured. “That filthy traitor Isaac was in league with William of Sicily.”

  “My Liege,” one of three attending people in the room spoke up. Aeneas recognized Theodore Kastamonites, the Emperor’s maternal uncle. He had somehow managed to survive the brutal reign of Andronikos.

  “Yes, Theodore, what is it?” Angelos demanded, without taking his eyes off the two secretaries before him, who were beginning to feel very uncomfortable.

  “Perhaps verification would be prudent first, my Liege?” came the reply. “We could send people to find out precisely where the gold might be at present, and search for the traitor while they are at it. That way we will be sure of what we seek, and can then take the appropriate measures.”

  The Emperor looked thoughtful. “Ye…es,” he said slowly. “The covert way, you mean? I agree with you, Uncle. Sensible advice, as always.” He looked directly at Aeneas and said, “You have done well.” Then, “Whom should we send, Uncle?” he asked.

  Theodore indicated Aeneas. “This man has found out more than our other investigators. Perhaps he should go to Cyprus and put his skills to work. He did bring us to this point, my Liege.”

  “Very well. I shall leave you to take care of the details. Uncle, Secretary,” the Emperor said with a hint of a nod, and turned away; the audience was at an end.

  “Yes, Your Majesty.” Aeneas and his boss bowed very deeply and shuffled out of the room backwards.

  As they tramped along the labyrinth of corridors past empty offices and stony-faced Varangian Guardsmen, the Chief Secretary grumbled under his breath.

  “I don’t know why you should go. His Majesty has been looking for an excuse to invade Cyprus and take it back into the empire for some time. Why not now? He has good reason.”

  “Invade Cyprus? Whatever for?” Aeneas asked.

  “Have you not been paying attention?” his chief snapped. “The treasury started low and now it is empty. People are groaning from the taxes we have had to impose. He has to finance the perpetual skirmishes with Bulgaria! Cyprus would be a ripe plum for the empire to regain.”

  Aeneas said nothing. His father had died during one of those ‘skirmishes’ while serving in the army under Manuel Komnenos, the predecessor to Andronikos. He had been a low level officer, but had had the foresight to send his son to school instead of allowing him to join the army. Aeneas was very glad of it. He had enjoyed school and had excelled in mathematics
, which was one of the reasons he had ended up in the treasury.

  Although he was apprehensive at the prospect of going to Cyprus and the potential dangers there, he was excited too. He fully intended to find the gold and get as much of it back to the Emperor as he could. Success would mean fame and hopefully fortune, perhaps even the realization of his life’s ambition.

  Then, he thought to himself, as he listened with only half an ear to his chief’s ramblings, I shall have your job, and I’ll be well on my way to becoming a senator. I hate you, you pompous, incompetent ass. If I am sufficiently rewarded, I will at last be able to afford land! Having land was the biggest hurdle to becoming a member of that august body. As these thoughts were churning through his mind, it suddenly occurred to him that there might be a property he could lay his hands on. The villa that belonged to the vagabond Alexios Kalothesos! A tiny idea began to form inside his busy mind. He turned his head to his chief. “I’m sorry, Chief Treasurer, I didn’t hear that last part?”

  “I said,” his chief responded rather testily, “that you can’t go on your own. You will have to have an escort of some kind. I shall talk to Lord Theodore Kastamonites and see how he wants to play this.”

  Lord Theodore Kastamonites ordered Aeneas to appear before him with his chief three days later.

  “You will be given the status of a Junior Ambassador for the purposes of this visit. Papers will be drawn up to that effect,” he informed Aeneas. “You sail in one of our naval vessels, which will add to your status. I have several men I want to go with you.”

  He gestured, and two villainous looking individuals stepped forward. They leered at Aeneas, whose heart sank at the sight of them. Both looked like hard cases, and dangerous. He immediately put them down as mercenaries, or worse.