“Well, what do you think?” Isaac asked testily.
“I think he is a spy, Sire,” Diocles said without preamble. Tamura nodded emphatically in agreement. “He has been sent here to find out what happened to that satanic Pantoleon,” she murmured to the Emperor.
“Do they think we are so stupid as to accept this man at face value, Sire?” Zenos demanded. His tone was sharp. “Do you want me to arrest him, Sire?” Zenos was a stocky man of twenty-five years who already had a bald patch forming on the top of his head. His round, well tended, bearded face and small, dark eyes set in fleshy features did not present a very friendly aspect. He enjoyed dressing expensively and wore jewels on his fingers, which indicated that he was not a man who had to use his hands for a living.
“Give him a little time to stew, your Majesty,” Diocles suggested. “There is something going on here that we should think about.”
“Like what?” Isaac, who understood nothing of subtleties, demanded an explanation of his advisers.
“I think the lady Tamura is correct, that he is here to find out what become of Pantoleon. But he may be here for another reason as well. Is it not possible that he searches for the gold stolen from the treasury in Constantinople? We all know there were rumors that Pantoleon—”
“The Chief Minister might be right, Sire,” Zenos said agreeably, although he hated to agree with the minister on anything, believing the man to be too old for the job that he himself aspired to.
“If this man is a spy, which we all suspect him to be, then we could give him some rope and see what he gets up to. I have seen his ‘bodyguards’.” Zenos made a distasteful grimace. “As villainous a pair of back-alley thugs as I have ever come across.”
Diocles and Tamura nodded, although both had seen worse men before: those whom Pantoleon had brought over from the mainland with him.
“His documents are impeccable, Your Highness. I have examined them carefully,” Diocles stated. “I do believe the Emperor sent him, but to what end we don’t know yet.”
“There is something ominous about that… smiling face that I simply do not trust, my Lord!” Tamura stated with conviction. She had nearly said “bald head”, but all the men in the room were in similar condition, if only to a lesser degree.
“Put watchers on his house, and that ship of his,” Isaac told them. “If I am not mistaken it is a Royal ship? In which case, confine the officers and crew to the vessel. They are not allowed to come ashore.”
“I have already done that, Your Majesty,“ Zenos stated, with a smug look at Diocles.
“Good. Then keep me informed.” Isaac stood up and, accompanied by his servants, left the chamber, the group bowing to his retreating back.
Zenos straightened up, “Lady Tamura, where does your slave go every couple of days?” he asked her.
He didn’t fail to see the flicker of alarm at the back of her eyes, swiftly brought under control.
“He goes to the markets and to merchants to obtain herbs, medicine and cloth… among other things. Why do you ask?” she responded casually.
Zenos nodded as though that was sufficient. “You do understand, my Lady, that the security of the Emperor, as well as all of our people in the palace, is my principal concern.” His spy, someone whom he had brought into the palace with his appointment, often returned frustrated and bewildered after attempting to follow Siranos.
“He leaves the palace, Lord, and then vanishes,” the man had exclaimed. “I cannot find him until,” he snapped his fingers for emphasis, “there he is, wandering about the corridors of the palace on some errand for his mistress. Very strange!”
Tamura threw a look at Diocles, who was staring at the ceiling as though contemplating its shabbiness. He rolled his eyes back at her and looked away.
She took a deep breath. “If you really must know, he is very careful when he is outside the palace. You might not remember the chaos of our existence when that monster Exazenos was here, but no one was secure, and our people were being waylaid in the very streets, just outside the walls of the palace!” Her tone was sharper now.
Diocles nodded in agreement. “It has calmed down of late, but all our slaves and eunuchs have to be careful out there. Famagusta is a dangerous port, with all sorts of bad people looking for an opportunity to harm an innocent servant. He has had two very narrow escapes thus far. I’m not too surprised to hear that he is being very careful, Zenos.”
Zenos, who was new to the position and had no real allies inside the palace, nodded his reluctant acceptance of the information. He decided, however, to keep a closer eye on both these none too forthcoming people who appeared to wield power of a very subtle kind with the Emperor.
*****
Zenos went away to deal with the matter of placing spies all around the villa, an action that gave someone else in the city a feeling of déjà vu. Dimitri, Talon’s primary spy, was also concerned about the arrival of a splendid galley that was undoubtedly a royal vessel, and the bald man who dressed somewhat like a senator who had just had an audience with the Emperor. Now his concern sharpened, for the behavior of the new Chief Gatherer of Information was all too familiar.
Diocles had rolled his eyes in exasperation when Zenos was selected to fill the post left vacant by the man known as Exazenos, but tried to maintain a civil relationship with him. Tamura had been scathing about the man’s appearance and his background, but her dislike for the newcomer had only made the Emperor dig his heels in and insist that he stay.
Zenos himself was ambitious, and saw the role of Chief Information Gatherer as a mere stepping stone to the position held by the aging Diocles. He wanted to achieve something that would elevate him to that post so badly he could taste it. He extended the scope of his duties to spy on his father’s merchant acquaintances, and indeed on his own father, to discover what coin they had hidden away from the tax collectors. Knowing what to look for, his collectors very effectively found ways of extracting more coin to keep the treasury from going completely empty. But these activities were boring to someone with as much ambition as he.
He did not have the stomach for the savage torture that had been a hallmark of his predecessor, although he believed that the threat and judicious use of torture could effectively elicit information. There was one puzzle, however, that no information gathering could shed light on, and that was the castle on the mountain over looking the city from the North, where the man known as Lord Talon lived with his sinister band of followers.
Ever since he had arrived to take up his duties, whenever he brought up the subject of Kantara and who lived there, people would look around them nervously and make excuses to hurry away, making the sign to ward off evil. Even the Emperor had looked uncomfortable when he had casually mentioned it one day, and had abruptly changed the subject. A thorn in the side of the Emperor, Zenos had decided. Perhaps it was time to go and have a chat with Diocles, who, despite being old and far past his prime, was without doubt the one person in the palace who knew what was going on…everywhere.
Two days later, after making enquiries, Zenos found the old man in the northeastern tower, which had a dove-cote. The pleasant sound of crooning birds came to Zenos as he mounted the stone steps leading up to the tiny room, which enclosed the cages and about ten pigeons. Diocles was holding a pigeon as Zenos arrived at the top of the steps. There was something guilty about his expression when he noticed the visitor. He hurriedly placed the pigeon into a cage and stood back.
“Ah, Chief Gatherer, how nice to see you again,” Diocles said, wiping his hands on his work robe. Had he placed something in his pocket at the same time? Zenos decided to let it go, for the moment, and smiled up at the old man.
“Yes; do you have a little time? I wanted to ask you about that castle on the mountain, the one inhabited by that Lord Talon fellow.”
“What about it, Zenos? You know the story. He stole it, the Emperor tried to take it back and we failed, and now it sits up there minding its own business,” Diocles s
tated in a brusque manner without looking at him. “We should go down to the gardens and talk, as we are disturbing the birds,” he added.
Once they were in the extensive gardens, Diocles made a point of admiring the flowers and shrubs. Zenos, who had little interest in flowers, pressed his point.
“So he does not pay any taxes, there are no hostages, and we leave him alone?” he enquired, frowning at the leopard cage. The two fierce animals were lolling in the shade, their slitted yellow eyes watching the two men, the only people in the garden at this time.
“That is not exactly true,” Diocles stated with some emphasis. “Every year, a chest of gold for the Emperor is delivered to the gates of the city, but we never know who delivers it. We do know, however, from where it comes.” He pointed in the general direction of the castle. “So the Emperor has decided it is well enough to leave him alone. I agree with that sentiment, by the way.” This last was delivered almost as a warning.
Zenos thought that this explanation left a lot to be desired, but like all the others Diocles did not want to pursue the discussion. Zenos left it at that and went off, thinking hard.
Days passed, and his spies watched the villa. The newcomer, Aeneas, seldom went out, but when he did he was accompanied by a couple of tough-looking men, so people cleared a path for him and he was left very much alone. He did little other than peer at the wares in the market, and on no less than three occasions he went to the grand service at the church. It seemed to be a very normal behavior for a first time visitor to the country.
Zenos was not very experienced in the subtleties of spy work; the kind of ideas that flowed around in his head were related to kidnapping, arrest and torture, but he was a quick learner. He knew that to do anything precipitous would merely anger the Emperor, who was currently absorbed with his woman, Tamura. So he tried to figure out how to worm some information out of the Ambassador in another way. Perhaps if he poked the bee hive with a stick something might fly out?
Some very interesting news had arrived from Beirut the other day by ship; a messenger had come to see Zenos as soon as it had docked. The main news was that Salah Ed Din was once again on the move with an enormous army, this time making straight for the Latin Kingdom. Apparently, one of the arrogant Latins had ignored the treaty and ambushed a caravan, despoiling and raping, and a female relative of Salah Ed Din, or certainly someone dear to the Sultan, had disappeared. Zenos’s spy told him this, shaking his head in wonder at the stupidity of the Latins. If Zenos had learned one thing in Beirut, it was that Salah Ed Din was almost worshiped by his subjects, and now his people would be coming from far and wide, flocking to the Sultan’s banner to teach the Latins a lesson they richly deserved and would never forget.
While that news did not directly affect his interests here in Cyprus, he had also heard that the man called Talon de Gilles had recently landed in Tyre and had met with the Count of Tripoli, then they had gone off to mediate with the angry Sultan. He had sent his messenger back to Beirut to find out more. Now it registered that Talon had left the region, hence the castle. Zenos smiled. His informants on the island, and he had many, had told him that there had been some kind of sea battle, with much fire and noise off the north coast, not far from the port that belonged to the castle.
The question was, would this man Talon be returning soon, or would he be long away? Zenos would know more when his messenger returned. Talon’s absence might prove a golden opportunity. If he could somehow succeed in taking back the castle and destroying those people on the mountain, he was sure the Emperor would reward him with anything he might want. The first person to be removed from the palace would be that self-satisfied old man, Diocles. Zenos rubbed his hands together in a gesture he usually made when he was pleased with an idea. But his first order of business must be this ‘Ambassador’. What could be done to make him open up about the real reason for his presence on the island?
It turned out to be easier than he expected. He simply decided to pay Aeneas a visit. He was announced by one of the thuggish attendants, and Aeneas rose from his chair to greet him.
“What can I do for such a distinguished visitor?” he enquired politely.
They both ducked their heads and observed one another, seeing perhaps a likeness.
“I am here to pass along the Emperor’s good wishes, and to ask if there is anything that we can do to make your visit more pleasant,” Zenos informed him.
“I am certainly very interested in exploring the island and becoming more acquainted with your population,” Aeneas began.
I can well imagine that! You are a spy for the Emperor of Byzantium, so you want to look around, Zenos thought to himself, but out loud he said, “You will understand, I trust, that the Emperor would prefer it if you stayed within the city for the time being. There is not a good feeling about the Empire since the last ruler, Andronikos….” He trailed off delicately. “We were all in great fear of him. His reputation went far beyond the borders of his empire. Besides, we had an unpleasant experience with a man who came from the City soon after Andronikos was… removed.”
“Oh, yes! I know of him.” Aeneas tried to sound disarming. “Well, who didn’t?” He spread his arms. “He simply vanished, and no one knew where he had gone! He would have had to face trial for his crimes, of course,” Aeneas finished. “Pantoleon, or Exazenos, as he was also called. He did come here, then? We wondered where he disappeared to.”
It was now clear to Zenos that the Ambassador knew more than had previously been guessed, but what else did he know?
“Yes, he did. Briefly, very briefly, he was close to the Emperor, but then he disappeared… and no one knows quite how, or even why.” Zenos spread his hands.
Aeneas, who had listened very carefully to what Alexios in the City had told him about Talon, hazarded a guess. “Could it be that he and this knight Talon came into conflict?”
There was that name again! Zenos contained his surprise and shrugged dismissively. “I don’t know, but of one thing I am sure: that Talon fellow is a traitor, and one fine day we will have a settling of scores.”
Aeneas’s ears perked up at this. “Please explain what you mean?” he asked. Perhaps something might come of this conversation after all. He had become a little desperate at his forced inactivity. This assignment was a golden opportunity to impress his emperor, and the lack of progress bothered him. He didn’t have much time; the looming invasion would be under way in a couple of months.
“Has no one told you of the castle on the mountain over to the north?” Zenos asked, waving his hand in that direction. By this time a servant had brought wine and food for them, and Zenos, who enjoyed eating, got started on the smoked fish, olives, and bread.
While he munched, he told Aeneas what he knew about the castle on the hill and its occupants. Aeneas, who was nothing if not an abacus slider, stopped him at one point. “You say he delivers a chest of gold from time to time?” he asked.
“That is what the Chief Minister told me. It doesn’t change the fact that he stole the castle and we need to take it back… one day,” he added darkly.
“Is it in coin?” Aeneas asked, his interest quickening.
“No, that is a little bit of a puzzle. It is in gold bars,” Zenos told him with a snort of derision. “Our taxes are usually in small coin; no one has any bars! Why do you ask?”
Aeneas looked as though he could barely breathe. “Have you actually seen any of this… these gold bars?” he asked in a weak tone.
Zenos frowned. “No, as a matter of fact I have not. Why the interest?” he asked again, staring at Aeneas, who looked as though he was on the edge of a heart attack. “Is something the matter?”
“No, no, it’s nothing. I must have swallowed something that disagreed with me,” Aeneas gasped, reaching for a cup. He took a long swig. Then he tried to change the subject. “Please do have some more wine. I have to say, the back olives on this island are terrific!” he oozed. “As for the first figs of the season, they are
so moist and taste divine! And perhaps you could help me. I would very much like to meet again with the Emperor, whenever that might be possible.
“Why is that necessary? The Emperor is a very busy person. Is it important?”
Aeneas appeared to be trying to come to some decision. He said in his most persuasive manner, “Can I trust you? I mean really trust you?”
Zenos was intrigued; his mind went on alert. “Of course! Anything you say will be held in the strictest confidence.” Even to his own ears he didn’t sound very convincing.
“Then you should check the bars and see what is marked on them.”
Zenos stared at him. “So the gold is what this is all about… you are here as a spy!” He pretended to sound very angry at this point. “You need to know that I am the Chief Information Gatherer for His Majesty Isaac Komnenos”—he raised his voice to make the pompous point—“and I can have you arrested on what I have just heard alone.”
Aeneas looked aghast. “But I am an Ambassador to the Emperor! That is the truth!” he protested.
Zenos picked out an olive and popped it into his mouth. “Not the whole truth, if I am not mistaken,” he said through his chewing, then spat the pit out onto the table. It was a very rude gesture, which was not lost on Aeneas, who wondered if he should call for help. He was sure that his two henchmen could deal with this man in an instant, but what then? How would he explain the disappearance of a senior court official who had come to visit, with a detail of attendants waiting outside?
“You should tell me what you can, or I shall put you in prison,” Zenos said in a threatening manner.
“Perhaps you should hear what I have to say,” Aeneas countered. He realized that he had broken a golden rule for even the most amateurish of spies by confiding in someone like Zenos. It caused him to break out into a sweat. His worst fears were coming to pass, but he hung onto the shreds of his nerves and attempted to keep his voice low and normal, even though his heart was pounding with fear. He knew he wasn’t cut out to play this kind of game, but now he was here, and unless he wanted to die in a prison he must somehow enlist this man. Perhaps greed would serve? He wanted to keep the knowledge of the impending invasion as a last resort.
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