Storms of Retribution

by James Boschert

  It would only complicate his plans to inform the Emperor at this stage, he decided. The last thing he wanted was a precipitous return, so keeping the minister out of the way and under wraps until he had obtained the gold was probably the best course. Who knew? Perhaps the Emperor himself might…. He let that thought drift away. First things first.

  Unbeknownst to the Gatherer of Information, Siranos heard of the arrest of Diocles very soon after the event. He watched from the shadows as the old man was hurried down the stairs towards the dungeons. Then Siranos, who was himself becoming good at moving about the palace unobserved, sped to his lady’s chambers, and after a light knock was bid to enter. Martina, Tamura’s servant girl, let him in. Her eyes widened with alarm at the expression on his face.

  “Oh, my Lady, all is lost!” he moaned to Tamura, sinking to his knees in front of her.

  “Oh, for Goodness sake! What is it this time, Siri?” she demanded impatiently. She wasn’t in the mood for his dramatics today. “Martina, be a dear and bring him a cup of water,” she commanded.

  “The Gatherer of Information has arrested the Chief Minister!” Siranos wailed. He looked sick.

  Tamura put her hand to her mouth in astonishment and alarm. “Tell me, tell me everything!” she commanded, trying desperately to keep calm. Siranos told her what he had seen.

  She turned away, horrified, murmuring, “Oh, the poor man! But there is nothing to connect us… is there?” She tried to recall if Zenos had ever seen her talking with the Chief Minister. “What was he doing in the dovecot?” she demanded, curious.

  “I… I believe he was sending a pigeon somewhere, my Lady,” he sobbed.

  Tamura went pale and sat down hard on one of he cushions. “He was trying to send a message to the people on the hill!” she whispered, as the realization struck her. “Oh God, what will we do now?”

  “One of those terrible new people hanging around Zenos killed the bird,” Siranos choked. “He shot the pigeon in mid flight! A servant I know was sent to retrieve the bird, and he showed it to me.”

  Martina nearly spilled the water, her hand shook so badly as she handed the goblet to Siranos. She, too, gave a low moan of terror; her eyes were like saucers as they stared at Tamura, looking for reassurance. Instinctively Tamura reached out for the girl and embraced her, although she was in dire need of comfort herself. Holding the sobbing and fearful girl to her breast, she thought hard.

  Now Diocles would be accused of treason, and executed. Zenos would see to that. The Emperor would feel betrayed, and thus be vengeful. She shuddered, feeling very alone. Diocles had provided some kind of sanity in an otherwise chaotic world where unpredictability was the norm and no one really knew how to anticipate the moods of the Emperor.

  Her mind raced. There was no doubt that Zenos was involved in something underhanded. The constant visits to the Ambassador, the strange and sinister youths who had arrived from God knew where and only did his bidding, and now this. It all added up to something very menacing, but against whom? Was it the man on the mountain, as she and Diocles had begun to suspect? But what if a coup was planned against Isaac himself? She finally concluded that, either way, it was about the gold. How could it not be? From what she had gleaned from Diocles, the treasure was vast. These people would stop at nothing to get to it, of that she was now sure. But what to tell the Emperor?

  Siranos had by now regained some of his composure. His next words echoed her own thoughts. “My lady, have either you or the Chief Minister shared your concerns with His Majesty?”

  She shook her head. “No, other than telling him we didn’t trust the Ambassador at the onset, we were not sure enough of anything else.”

  “And now the Chief Minister is in prison, accused of treason.” Siranos paused, a frightened look on his young face. “If he is tortured, he might reveal that you are in his confidences, my Lady. You will be implicated!”

  “Think how that would look to His Majesty, my Lady,” Martina interjected. “He would see it as a double betrayal, and decide against the Chief Minister in favor of the Gatherer of Information. You mustn’t warn the Emperor, or he will suspect you take Diocles’ side. And if that man accuses you, you must deny everything.”

  Tamura stared at them aghast, knowing full well that Martina was right. She could be quite level-headed on occasion.

  “They are definitely up to something evil,” she said. “I wish I knew how to stop them and make sure the Emperor is not misled. I’m almost sure it is about that stolen gold.”

  Siranos nodded his head vigorously. “I agree with you on that my Lady. You must write a warning to the Greek in the town. He will know where to send it.”

  Tamura agreed. “I shall write the letter tonight, and you must take it to him tomorrow, Siranos.”

  Tamura spent that evening composing a letter, outlining all she knew and whom she suspected, then spent a restless night. The next day, early in the morning, Siranos slipped out of the palace with his usual care and headed for the wine house, where he hoped to meet with Dimitri. He was unaware of a slim figure waiting in the street, who began to shadow him. The Assassin quietly followed at a discreet distance; Siranos appeared to be more cautious than the average man simply out for a stroll or running an errand. The frequent backward Siranos cast behind forced the youth to lag more than he usually would. As a result, the youth almost missed the doorway into which Siranos disappeared.

  Siranos had felt uneasy almost as soon as he left the palace, but no matter how many times he checked for followers he could not see anyone. Nevertheless, his fears persisted, so that by the time he was able to slip onto a bench next to the messenger he was sweating, and it was not from the heat of the day. This time the messenger was not Dimitri himself, but one of his servants. Without pausing to exchange greetings, Siranos thrust the letter into the man’s hand. “Something terrible has happened in the palace. You must give this note immediately to your leader,” Siranos stammered, with a long glance at the curtained doorway. “I am sure I was followed, but I did not see anyone.”

  Khuzaymah gave him a sharp look as he tucked the letter away in the depths of his loose robes. His glance flicked to the doorway, but there was no one there. Whoever was following Siranos, if indeed there was someone, was obviously not going to fall into the trap of walking into a place like this without looking it over carefully first. He gestured to Maymun, who came over and sat on a bench nearby.

  “He thinks there is someone following him,” Khuzaymah told Maymun in a terse undertone. “We’ll follow him back to the palace, but not just yet. Let’s lay a trap. If there is anyone, they will follow him to the market.” He turned back to Siranos, who had just gulped some of the sour brew that the proprietor called wine. “Do you have money on you?” he asked.

  “Y… yes, I do.” Siranos reached for his coin, thinking that he was going to have to pay for the drinks.

  “Good. Go spend it in the market, as though you were sent on an errand,” Khuzaymah told him. “We will be following, so don’t worry about your back. Now get up and walk out slowly. Don’t look back, not even once! Just go and buy something, then go back to the palace. D’you think you can do this?”

  Siranos’s head bobbed up and down. He stood up, knocking over the rest of the wine with a spasm of his right arm, and forced himself to saunter out the door of the inn.

  “Do you think he can do something as simple as this?” Maymun asked, sounding doubtful.

  “He’s shitting himself, but self preservation is part of being a spy. I think he will manage,” was the laconic response. The two men eased themselves out of the bar. They were just in time to see Siranos disappear around a corner, but their sharp eyes saw something else of interest.

  There was indeed a follower. Both men tensed, then fell back into their roles of hunters. Reza had trained them well, so they were extremely careful. Their caution was justified, for the man trailing Siranos behaved in a manner familiar to them both. Maymun shot Khuzaymah a concerned l
ook. This one knew what he was about; it was almost as if he, too, had trained under Reza.

  Siranos made directly for the market and loitered casually near the herbs and soap stalls. The market was not very crowded, as it was still early morning. People were eating breakfast, making preparations for the day ahead. Siranos examined the scented bars of soap, feeling and sniffing them, while glancing about surreptitiously. He eventually paid a few coins for a small package, which the owner of the stall presented to him. He turned away and strolled towards the palace. His eyes were still nervously searching, not only for his follower, whom he was sure was still there, but also for the two men belonging to the Greek.

  He saw no one at all even remotely resembling anyone who might be tracking him, nor the other two. At one point he did run into a young man with a covering over his head, who appeared to be in a hurry. They disengaged with a grunt of apology, and Siranos continued on his way. The encounter would normally have been unremarkable. People were forever bumping into one another in the narrow streets; it could have been an accident, or at worst a pickpocket trying his luck. In his present state of paranoia, however, Siranos was shaken and looked back over his shoulder. The man had vanished, and again neither of the Greek’s men were to be seen.

  *****

  “Did you deliver the message?” Tamura demanded, as soon as Martina let him inside the chamber. He looked pale and frightened.

  “Yes, my Lady. The Greek was not there, but two of his men were. But I know I was followed,” he all but whimpered.

  Tamura went cold all over. “So he suspects!” she whispered. “But they have the message?” she repeated.

  Siranos nodded and sipped a cup of water Martina gave him. “They have the message, and they told me to go to the market and make a small purchase as my reason for leaving the palace,” he told her. “I never saw them after that, but someone bumped into me when I was on my way back here. I think it was the man who followed me! His head and face were covered but... there was something familiar about him.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  “The way he moved so quietly reminds me of those youths who accompany Zenos, my Lady. Maybe even the one who shot the pigeon. His hands were everywhere on me! He was looking for something. If he had done that before I delivered the message…. Oh God, I am so scared,” he whispered, his face was as pale as a ghost.

  Martina gave a low wail and Tamura closed her eyes. “Then we must pray to God that the people at the castle act upon my letter, or we are all lost,” she said.

  *****

  Khuzaymah and Maymun had not failed to notice the incident. They were well versed in this tactic, and its familiarity disturbed them. The youth who had bumped into Siranos had checked thoroughly for any kind of letter or message.

  “It’s a good thing we have the letter, or it would have gone badly for that boy. We have to follow this one and find out where he is going,” Khuzaymah muttered. Maymun nodded agreement.

  “The boy should count himself lucky the other only wanted to search him. I thought for a moment he was going to get knifed,” Maymun commented. “I nearly broke cover to grab him.”

  To their astonishment, the figure they shadowed also went to the palace and was allowed entrance by the guards. He disappeared inside the grounds while the two men looked at one another.

  “Tell Dimitri what is going on, Maymun. Take the letter with you,” Khuzaymah told him. “I shall stay here and see if that man comes out from the palace again.”

  Dimitri’s initial response was to shake his head and sigh. “More palace intrigues! Can’t these people get along for just a little while?” After he read the letter, however, his whole demeanor changed. “Maymun!” he called. Maymun hurried into to the room to find his chief looking very out of sorts. “You two were right to follow that man. There is big trouble brewing at the palace. Khuzaymah is watching there?”

  “Yes, but there are many entrances. He can only watch the one.”

  “Get back over there, and take two of our men with you. You are just to watch and find out whatever you can. Most certainly do not be noticed.” Dimitri went on to tell him of the contents of the letter and his concerns. “I must send a pigeon out tomorrow morning. It’s too late now, and we need to know more, if possible, before I send a message.”

  That evening Maymun and two other men joined Khuzaymah in the shadows of the narrow streets near the palace. Khuzaymah told them what he had seen thus far.

  “Four more men of similar dress went into the palace not long after the first one, but nothing since.”

  “Dimitri says that we should find out where they live in town,” Maymun said. So they waited while the sun set in a blaze of red and orange colors and the air cooled, bringing more people out onto the streets. Candles were lit, and it became less easy to see who passed through the entrances to the palace. Yet their patience was finally rewarded. Not long after dark, eight hooded figures emerged from the trader’s entrance and made off towards the eastern gates of the city.

  The four companions followed at a discreet distance and observed them leave through the gates, after having presented the guards with some document or other allowing them to depart. The curfew being in place, the document had to have come from some authority within the palace itself. Khuzaymah and his companions made their way back to their lodgings to report to Dimitri.

  “They appear as skilled in stealth as we are. And they were carrying bows, quivers and swords,” Maymun responded, when Dimitri asked him for his opinion. “But whatever mischief they are here for, it seems the palace is safe from them—at least for tonight.

  Dimitri and his men spent several hours trying to piece together the events of the day. Finally Dimitri decided that, although he did not have all the facts, since the Chief Minister had been thrown into the dungeons for trying to send a pigeon to the castle, it was incumbent upon him to send a message to the castle in the morning. Pigeons didn’t travel at night, otherwise he would have sent one there and then. There was even a full moon, but he knew better than to chance a bird’s life with the predators of the night.

  As the first light of dawn paled the sky to the east, Dimitri sent the creature on its way and watched as it gained height and then turned north. Its destination was the castle of Kantara.

  ____________

  Chapter 17

  The Shield Walls

  Sword, how fair and bright thou art.

  Come thou forth and view the light,

  Long as I can wield thee here

  Charles my Emperor shall not say

  That I die alone, unwept.

  —from The Legend of Roland

  A few leagues to the west of the Kantara harbor there is a long, deep inlet that could easily harbor a ship, either to protect it from the Mediterranean storms that can spring up in a moment, or to hide it from prying eyes. It is the nearest of several inlets along that particular stretch of Cyprus coast.

  It was for the latter reason that two small ships stealthily nosed their way into the inlet during the night. The full moon allowed the captains and their men to see their way clearly, and they had little difficulty guiding the ships past the dangerous rocks on either side of the narrow channel. The bright moonlight gleamed off the water, and the only sound was of low ripples that pushed up and drew back from the small sandy beach with a gentle rustling sound, almost as though the sea itself were breathing quietly in its sleep. Once they were through the neck, the inlet opened out just enough to allow the ships to be turned with oars; then anchors were lowered, without splashes, into the water.

  On either side and overlooking the beach were low cliffs, atop of which grew small, stunted pines forming the beginnings of a forest which extended up into the mountains several leagues to the south. The trees here were interspersed with grassy spaces where goat herders could take their flocks. Aware that some might be in the vicinity even now, the crews were silent, apart from the occasional hoarse whisper. Quietly they rowed to the beach w
here they assembled, waiting for the order to set off.

  Their objective was the village harbor of Kantara, and they wanted to get there just before dawn. Some men hefted spears, sabers, and shields, while others checked their bows and arrows. Upon a low-voiced order, all of them followed the scouts up a narrow dirt path leading to the top of the cliff. Below them, the ships gently rose and fell with the swell from the sea. The men were alert and tense, but apart from the hoot of an owl in the distant forest and the rustle of small animals in the undergrowth, all was quiet. They crested the cliff and set off in single file towards the distant village.

  *****

  Just one half league from the inlet, Kostas woke up and listened to the night. The boy was well tuned to the sounds around him during the day, but particularly at night when the larger predators, such as foxes, would roam the hills and sometimes try to pick off a sheep, lamb or goat caught unawares. He usually slept close to his animals, which were quite used to their human guardian and remained bunched up in his vicinity at night.

  Kostas rubbed his eyes and stared at the animals. They were absolutely silent, but every one of them was clearly listening, their long ears pricked to catch the faintest sound. By the bright orb of the full moon he could see that they were all wide awake and nervous, staring in the direction of the long inlet to his north. Thinking there might be some large predator nearby, he fumbled for his spear and moved into a crouch and stared hard in the same direction as his animals.

  Then he saw them. Below the hillside, a long line of dark figures was moving stealthily in the direction of his village. He could see that they were heavily armed, their spears glinting in the moonlight.