“Yes. They match the sketch.”
“How many chests were there in the treasury?”
“Just three small, compact chests, and one of them was half empty!”
Aeneas shut his eyes and shook his head from side to side, wearing an expression of pained understanding. Taking a clean napkin from the table, he wiped the perspiration off his bald pate, then turned to look directly at Zenos. “You have probably figured out that the rest of the gold is somewhere else?”
“They are certainly not in the palace, I can assure you of that,” was the retort.
“So it is back to the theory that the chests might have come from this Talon fellow, at least one of them, anyway?”
Zenos hesitated.
“Trust… remember?” Aeneas prompted him.
“I think it just possible that the rest of the gold is up in that castle on the mountain,” Zenos conceded, his tone grudging. “Unless, of course, Exazenos absconded with the rest when he disappeared, in which case we will never find where it is. He vanished so completely that people are still talking about it.
Aeneas sighed. “Let’s assume that at least some of it is on that mountain. Any ideas as to how we can recover it? I assume you have a plan?”
Zenos glared at him, not liking his high-handed manner. “Yes, perhaps, but it is going to be very difficult and will involve a lot of people. None of whom must ever know the real purpose. Least of all the Emperor or his senior advisor.”
Aeneas wanted to laugh. With these words Zenos had committed treason. And from what he knew about Isaac, the mere whiff of disloyalty could mean a horrible death for Zenos. They, therefore, had each other gripped by the short and curlies; and neither was going to let go before the other. Now they were committed.
He took a swig of the awful wine that his servants had bought in the market, shook his head and muttered, “There must be something better than this piss water!” He looked up and said, “Then we must hurry up and make a plan.”
“What is the hurry?” Zenos asked suspiciously. “That castle has withstood one siege, it’s almost impregnable. We won’t get in easily, I can tell you. I ask you again, what is the hurry?”
Aeneas looked disconcerted. “No reason, but, well… before anyone finds out what we are doing.”
“You are holding something back from me,” Zenos snarled. “Tell me what it is, or I will take you to the dungeons and beat it out of you! To hell with everything else!”
Aeneas knew he had blundered. He thought for a long moment, then decided that it might be as well to inform Zenos of the pending invasion.
“As… as I told you, the Emperor has taken a keen interest in this island since the Normans tried to… tried to take the City. He knows that your king was on the side of William, so he ….” Aeneas stopped and wiped the perspiration off his bald head.
“So he what?” Zenos snapped, by now thoroughly alarmed.
“He is going to invade!” Aeneas blurted out.
“You treacherous rat! You snake!” Zenos exclaimed, jumping up from the table and clenching his hands as if he wished they were gripping knives to use on Aeneas.
“All this time you knew what was going to happen!”
“No! No!” Aeneas said shakily. “I know he is considering it. I don’t know if he is going to,” he lied.
Zenos didn’t believe him. “You do know! When,” he asked, his tone dripping sarcasm, “is this visit to take place? By God and all the saints!” He swept plates off the table with a crash. “I should have you killed for this!”
“Then they will come after you,” Aeneas said shakily. “The Emperor has a long reach, and don’t forget it was he who sent me to find the gold. This I have partially accomplished, but unless we move quickly none of it will come our way.” He was appealing to the basic greed of his comrade in crime, and he could see the feverish workings of Zenos's mind in his face as he considered his options. “We can take some for ourselves and say that this Talon fellow either hid it off the island or spent it. No one will be able to dispute that, especially if they get back most of the gold.”
It took a huge effort for Zenos to calm down enough to speak. “I will have to travel to Beirut,” he stated. “I know people there who might be able to help.”
“Remember that there will be huge rewards for those who do recover the treasure, Zenos. I may call you Zenos? Please call me Aeneas. All these titles get in the way of things, don’t you think?” Aeneas gave Zenos a weak smile. It crossed his mind to send a message to the Emperor to report progress, but decided that might jeopardize his own plans.
*****
Zenos left for Beirut a few days later, having informed the Emperor and anyone else who cared to listen that he was going to Paphos to investigate a murder. He did intend to drop by Paphos on his way back, to examine the castle and find out what he could about the mysterious sea battle that had taken place just prior to the disappearance of the fiend Exazenos. He had a license to go almost where he pleased in the interests of his job description, so no one commented.
No one, that is, except Diocles, who was concerned about the second visit paid to the Ambassador enough to tell Tamura about it.
They still maintained some of the initial reserve each had with the other, but this was fast being replaced with a sense of their mutual need for survival. They both realized that if they worked together they could perhaps maintain the status quo, which, while not perfect, was considerably better than the chaos which might ensue should there be any skullduggery on the part of the Chief Information Gatherer and the Ambassador. Their second meeting was brief, but there was an urgency to it because of the activities and mysterious departure of Zenos.
Instinctively Tamura was a curious girl, and she knew how powerful were her assets; but how to use them to winkle information from this prim newcomer while Zenos was away?
“Siranos! Where are you? You lazy thing!” she called one day. He came running from the back rooms, replying, “You called, Mistress?”
“Does the Ambassador ever visit the city?” she enquired. “I mean, does he stay cooped up in that villa all day, or does he look around the city at all?”
Siranos thought about that, then brightened. “He goes to the church on a regular basis, at least twice a week. He also takes walks along the harbor wall in the evenings, when there are fewer people about.”
“Which days are those?”
“This morning would be one of those days for the church, Mistress.”
“I am going to the service this morning, and you are coming with me,” she ordered. Come along! Martina? Where is that girl when I need her?”
Thus it was that Aeneas, a moderately pious man who believed in being seen showing respect to his Maker, was standing in the church, listening to the seemingly endless litany chanted by deacon, when he became aware of the presence of a woman on the other side of the nave. She was observing him with apparent interest.
Later, he wondered whether it was the perfume wafting his way or simply the fact that a beautiful woman appeared to be taking an interest in him that captured his attention. Being quite unused to any woman paying him any attention, his own curiosity was piqued and he stared at her, wondering where he might have seen her before. The heavy veil that hid her face moved and revealed a delicate jawline and full lips. With a start he recognized the Lady Tamura from the palace! He felt an abrupt quickening of his senses. He looked around to see if there were any bodyguards lurking in the shadows, but could find none. The only person with the woman was a young girl, also veiled, but clearly a servant.
In the City such a meeting could never have occurred, but here in this hayseed town that had the gall to call itself a city it was evidently permitted for the young queen to go to a service without very many guards in attendance. Out of the corner of his eye he could see only two slouching against the pillars by the entrance. Her attendant even stepped aside into one of the aisles and initiated a murmured conversation with another man, leaving her
mistress alone. Aeneas barely heard the next part of the service; his attention was surreptitiously fixed on the woman across the nave.
The service finally came to an end and the woman turned away to leave, but then she did something so unexpected that Aeneas’s mouth fell open. She gestured to him to attend her as she walked out of the building. Aeneas might have been a counting-man with little imagination, but he also fancied himself an opportunist. Motioning his own two men to keep back, he scurried out of the building into the bright sunlight to catch up with the Lady Tamura, who was moving slowly in the general direction of the palace. She appeared to notice him approaching and waved her guards off. It was market day, and she lingered by some of the cloth stalls, fingering the expensive silks, but did not buy any. He came up behind her and her attendant, cleared his suddenly dry throat and asked, “Did you need to talk to me, My Lady?”
“I understand that you are on your own here in our country, Ambassador?” she enquired with an arched brow.
“Ye, yes, my Lady. I was sent alone.”
*****
Siranos met Aeneas by the garden doors of the palace and led him to Tamura’s quarters. Before they crossed the gardens, the eunuch thrust a mask and a floppy hat into Aeneas’s hands and told him to put them on. Siranos knew every passage and every room in the building, so it was easy enough to smuggle a cloaked, masked man into the harem using the excuse that he was one of the mimes sent to entertain the women.
They passed noisy musicians and bustling servants and eunuchs, who were too busily engaged upon catering to the bored wives of the Emperor to notice the newcomer, and slipped on up the stairs to the women’s bed chambers. To Aeneas’s surprise no one seemed to notice him or Siranos as they made their way along some crowded corridors and then some quieter ones, which eventually led to a stout wooden door.
Siranos knocked gently on the door, and at a muffled command it was opened to show Aeneas a candlelit room that was sumptuously decorated. Silk curtains were drawn across the open windows, and Persian rugs overlaid the multi-colored tiles on the floor. A pleasant scent of lavender, mingled with a very subtle scent of frankincense, permeated the room. Tamura herself glided across the floor to greet him with an outstretched hand, which felt deliciously cool to his own fevered touch. He tried to emulate the queen in politeness; he did, after all, come from the Blachernae Palace, and bent over her hand to brush it with his lips.
She smiled coquettishly, then waved him over to some huge cushions, indicating that he should seat himself. When Tamura clapped her hands, a maid hurried into the room bearing a tray laden with sweetmeats and silver goblets. Wine was poured, then the maid vanished back behind the curtains at the other end of the room.
Aeneas was still somewhat bewildered by the situation, but he was also excited by the presence of the lovely lady and full of hopeful anticipation as to what might happen next. She lowered herself onto a cushion across from him, took up one of the silver goblets and brought it to her lips, all the while looking at him over the rim.
Aeneas felt himself stir. Despite the cool room a bead of sweat appeared on his brow. He sipped his own wine and found it to be very good, as fine as any he had tasted in Constantinople. His surprise must have shown on his face for she smiled and said, “The wine is from this island, Master Ambassador. I hope you like it.”
He nodded, wanting to gargle the deep red liquid, it felt so good on his tongue. He restrained himself and replied, “It is excellent, my Lady. You are fortunate to have wine of this quality. I wonder if I might find some of it to take back with me. Where is it grown?”
She smiled again. “I am unsure as to exactly where it is grown, but it is from the north side of the mountains nearby, I believe.” She waved her hand vaguely towards the region of Kantara.
Aeneas frowned and said, “Is that not near where this man called Talon lives? I have heard much about him.”
Tamura took a sharp little breath. “Yes, indeed it is. It is rumored that he is fabulously wealthy, but he is also considered dangerous and reputed to be a wizard.”
She didn’t fail to notice the gleam of interest in the Ambassador’s eyes as he took another sip of his wine.
“Fabulously wealthy, my Lady?”
“Oh, that is only a rumor, and rumors are everywhere on a small island like this, but the general opinion is that this man, who came from nowhere, is very rich indeed, especially since—” She stopped abruptly and placed her cup down on the silver tray. “But I must not say too much, as it is only gossip… mere hearsay.”
“I, for one, would be very interested in hearing any gossip of this kind,” replied Aeneas, displaying uneven teeth in what he hoped was an encouraging smile. More beads of sweat had appeared on his shiny pate, which he wiped off apologetically with a cotton cloth. “I am sorry, my Lady. It is a little warm in here.”
Tamura almost laughed out loud; that cunning Diocles had been right. She poured her guest another full cup of wine, which he took up and almost immediately drank down. She watched him carefully and with some satisfaction. This man was here about the gold! Nothing to do with diplomacy, just as Diocles had surmised, and his bulbous nose was sniffing for information of any kind that might lead to it. She looked at his heavy linen toga and its wrap, which were more suited to a wet winter in Rome than the hot climate of Famagusta, and said sweetly, “Alas, even though the shutters are open there is no breeze today, Ambassador. However, please do feel free to take off your outer wrap. You must be suffocating in all that clothing.”
Aeneas didn’t think; he took off the thick linen wrap, which left him in his gold-trimmed tunic with his arms bare. He leaned back on the huge, comfortable cushions and swallowed more wine. That felt a lot better.
Tamura decided to ask a few questions of her own. “What have you heard on the street for yourself, Ambassador?” she cooed.
“Please, my Lady, call me Aeneas; it is a great deal less official. But yes, I have heard things too.” He leaned forward in a more conspiratorial manner, and his eyes strayed from her face down her exposed neck to lock onto the swelling of her breasts, which strained against the thin fabric of her bodice.
Being very familiar with this form of male stare she ignored it and focused in on extracting more information.
“So you think that this man, the one on the mountain, might be in possession of…” she stopped and her eyes prompted him.
Aeneas’s eyes crawled off her breasts back up to her face. His own was flushed from the effects of the wine, and he slurred in a very low voice, “Gold, my Lady.” He touched the side of his nose with a forefinger.
Tamura pretended she didn’t understand. “Well of course he will have gold; he is reputed to be very rich.”
He waved his hand in the air. “No, no, no, my Lady. Gold!” he emphasized. “the gold bars from the City.”
“What are you talking about, Aeneas? Gold from the city of Constantinople?”
“Yes, yes… it was stolen by Pantoleon the charioteer and brought here to Cyprus!” Aeneas was about to say more when there was a loud banging on the outer door and a shout. Tamura paled and looked terrified,
“Oh, God help me! Its the Emperor!” she whispered. “You must leave, at once!” She sounded desperate.
Isaac called from behind the door. “I am coming in this minute, my honey-drop! Make ready!” This was followed by a cackle of laughter. Siranus appeared with an ashen face, wringing his hands. “What will we do, my Lady?” He gave a low wail of terror. “We are dead!”
Tamura wasted no time. “You,” she snapped to Aeneas. “Get under there,” she pointed to the large canopy-covered bed, the silks of which came down to the floor. “Now!” she hissed. Aeneas scrambled off the cushions and hurriedly paddled on hands and knees to the bed, then crawled underneath.
Tamura reached for the silver cup he had just used. It was empty, so she tossed it behind the curtains near the window, where it landed with a light clinking sound. She stood up and waved to Siranos to
open the door, as the Emperor was sounding impatient. The door crashed open and Isaac charged inside to stop in the middle of the chamber, his feet braced wide. He was alone, which reassured Tamura somewhat. All the same she shrank from Isaac, who was obviously very excited about something.
“My Lord! My King! I, I have been waiting for you. Where have you been?” she stammered.
“You have, have you?” Isaac bellowed. “Good, because by God I am ready!”
“Ready for what, my Lord?” she asked in a tremulous voice.
“Ready! Ready for us!” he grabbed himself by the crotch and cackled. That powder your man-thing gave me several hours ago has worked its magic! Get on the bed, woman, and be quick about it. Ha ha!”
Tamura tried to protest, “My Lord, should I not come to your quarters? Would it not be proper if I accompanied you there and we can then..?”
“No, no! Now! I want you now, my beauty.” He grunted as he wrestled with his waistcoat, which he finally tore off, ripping some of its gold buttons off in the process. “Help me with this!” he commanded the cringing Siranos, “and then get out of my sight!”
Tamura pretended to be delighted. “Oh, my Lord! It worked!” she squealed with excitement.
While Siranos began helping the impatient Emperor out of his clothes, Tamura, her eyes wide with acting out the part, eased herself gingerly onto the bed.
“Oh, yesss! Look at this!” Isaac pointed to himself. “Now get undressed, my Princess. I want you ready for me!” Isaac yelled, as he hopped about the floor with one leg still in his under-draws.
The subsequent copulation was noisy, the more so as Tamura joined in with exaggerated enthusiasm while at the same time she frantically signaled Siranos to get the Ambassador out of the chamber. She glimpsed Aeneas’s wide backside disappearing into the other room as he fled on hands and knees, to be hauled without ceremony out of sight by Siranos and the almost hysterical Martina. When the curtains had finally stopped moving she turned her attention fully to her king and set about making his visit as memorable as she knew how.
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