Storms of Retribution

by James Boschert

  “You are a very bad boy, Lord. But… I hope it was worth it!” He laughed and turned away to embrace Junayd. “My friend, I thank you for your help from the bottom of my heart. God protect you, Junayd. God protect you both, and give my respects and sentiments to their Ladyships in the castle, along with my respects to Master Reza. I hope very much that Lord Talon comes home soon. He will be in my prayers every day.”

  The ship was made ready, Rostam assumed his captain’s duties, and the ship was cast off. Men from Dimitri’s gang were there to assist, and soon they were moving slowly away from the quayside.

  It was then that Rostam and Junayd noticed activity on the other quay. A figure they recognized as the Ambassador was gesticulating and shouting at people around him. He abruptly strode down some steps to a small boat, and this was rowed out to the ship that had brought him to the port in the first place. In short order, this ship had also weighed anchor and was unfurling its sails. Rostam’s ship slid past to lead the way out of the main harbor of Famagusta.

  “It seems that he took the hint,” Junayd said with a grin at Rostam. “Appears to be traveling light, too.”

  “You are going to tell me what you found inside the house, are you not?” Rostam demanded eagerly. “I want to know the details.”

  “Hmm, yes, but one story deserves another. If you see what I mean, Lord. But perhaps you should spare me the finer details.” Junayd gave the young man an enquiring smile, and Rostam had the grace to color. He looked out at the entrance of the harbor.

  “Hey! Take care that you don’t put us on those rocks!” he snapped at the steersmen, who hurried to obey and right the vessel down the exact middle of the channel.

  Rostam turned back to his friend, who appeared to be intent upon the other ship’s activities. “All right, then. I’m sorry I made everyone worry. But, well, it all happened like this….” he began.

  *****

  As dawn came to Famagusta, Tamura stirred and opened her eyes. Hearing a small sound she peered over the edge of the bed covers to find Martina tidying up and regarding her with inquisitive eyes. “How is my mistress today?” the girl enquired with an enigmatic look.

  “I am very well, thank you, Martina; and you can take that look off your face before I have you flogged,” Tamura said, but her tone was furred. She stretched and yawned, then realized that something was amiss. She looked around the bed, and then the chamber.

  “Where is he?” she demanded.

  “Vanished, my Lady. Like a ghost!” Martina responded with a wide-eyed look. “Took his bow and left.”

  “Surely he didn’t leave without you knowing? What about the guards?” Tamura asked with a frown.

  “We never heard a thing, my Lady. Siranos made a discreet enquiry of the guards, asking if there had been any further disturbance anywhere in the palace. He has gone to find out what has happened since the disturbances of last night,” Martina told her. The girl was clearly dying to know more about Tamura’s adventures of the previous night. Delicacy forbade her from asking, but Tamura gave her a smile that told her much.

  “I am exhausted!” she exclaimed with another luxurious stretch. She had enjoyed the night immensely. She tossed her maid a bone. “He had such energy! Goodness me, yes!” she sighed at the memories.

  Martina laughed with delight and envy. She had gathered that, from the noisy rattling of the bed to the point where Siranos had been seriously worried. “It is going to fall apart and the noise will bring the guards knocking on the door!” he’d moaned. “Then we are all doomed!”

  Martina had told him to hush and had continued eavesdropping shamelessly, then she had rounded on him and planted a kiss on his lips. “I want you to... you know!” She’d growled, with desperation in her voice. They had done their best in the servants’ quarters while the main event was taking place on the other side of the wall.

  “More enthusiasm than skill?” she ventured, with a grin to her mistress, who smiled like a cat which has just consumed all the cream. “I could swear that he had never been with a woman before, but oh my, yes! Such enthusiasm!”

  Martina gasped, and then laughed with delight. Only a day or so earlier her mistress had complained about the increased attentions of the Emperor. “He is like a rutting pig! I shall have to bribe one of the other ladies with a jewel or a favor, to go in my place!” she commented sourly. “I am worn out down there!”

  But Martina could tell that her mistress appeared to have enjoyed the night, which made a change. Then Martina said pointedly, “ The Emperor comes back tomorrow, my Lady. We must prepare for his arrival.”

  Tamura gave a sigh of resignation. “I know,” she said shortly; then, “I wonder if I will ever see him again?” Her tone was wistful.

  “God’s will, my Lady. You never know,” Martina reassured her with an understanding smile.

  *****

  There had been little enough sleep in the palace of the Emperor of Cyprus what with all the uproar, but the senior servants had rallied and put people to work cleaning up the bodies, some on the ground floor of the palace, and even more in the cellars. Those wretched leopards had escaped again; the lock appeared to have been forced. There was a half devoured body on the lawn of the garden, which the great cats wanted to take with them as they were driven, at spear point, back to their cage.

  “If I had my way I’d kill them now,” muttered the chief huntsman, whose responsibility they were. “They have done this twice now, and it won’t be long before they attack again, perhaps even the Emperor himself.”

  “Why, you sound almost hopeful!” exclaimed one of his men.

  “Shut up, you. That’s treasonous talk and I won’t have it!” he growled.

  The man who was ostensibly in charge, Zenos the Gatherer of Information, was generally a late riser; so it was not until the sun was well up in the sky that people began to wonder about his absence. However, the Chief Minister appeared, as though from nowhere. He had been absent for several days, but now here he was. He looked a little tired, a little thinner, and was inclined to scratch himself, but otherwise he seemed well enough. He offered no explanation for his absence and no one dared to ask. He dined alone in the small chamber that opened onto the gardens, on his usual meal of ripe figs and bread with olives and goat’s cheese, seemingly unconcerned about the mayhem that had transpired during the previous night.

  One thing, at least, had changed about the minister. There were two very dangerous looking men hovering about his person at all times. Despite his recent absence he was well informed, and he took charge of the situation. He ordered the remaining soldiers who were loyal to the Emperor down to the tunnels and corridors under the palace to check once more that no one unwelcome people were still lurking there, after he had verified that he personally knew all of them. They were a detestable crowd of men, but they were the Emperor’s detestable crowd, so he could trust them at least to do this. Having been assured that no enemy remained below, either of Zenos’s mercenaries or the terrible assassins, he ordered the servants to clean the palace from the basement to the top, so that throughout the day the building was a hive of activity and few had time to dwell upon the peculiarities of the preceding hours.

  Diocles was bracing himself for news from the Ambassador’s villa. It came not long after he breakfasted. A breathless servant from the villa was brought before him, to fall on his knees and sob out the whole gruesome story. No one registered the fact that Diocles appeared quite unmoved by the tragic news.

  “Where is the Ambassador?” he demanded.

  The crying servant shook his head. “No one knows, Lord,” he sobbed, “but there is talk of his ship leaving the harbor at first light. I don’t know if this is true, Lord.”

  Diocles pretended not to have known this, and gave the impression to all that he was very angry.

  “So the Ambassador murdered our Gatherer of Information and his servants, and then fled like the craven traitor he is! There is no doubt that he would have tried for our Em
peror as well, had he been here,” he said loudly for all to hear. He hoped that this would register with anyone who might be inclined to pass information directly to the Emperor. No one could be trusted these days.

  Diocles spotted Siranos in the audience; good. The Lady Tamura would soon know that he was restored to his post of Chief Minister. He sent men, with strict orders to keep quiet about what they found, to the villa to investigate. Gradually the palace came back under control, and preparations continued for the return of His Majesty, Isaac Komnenos.

  “I wonder where the old fox has been?” one of the older eunuchs asked of his companion of many years in an undertone. “D’you think he has a woman hidden away somewhere? He looks as though he is wrung out!” They snickered together and made themselves scarce. There was work to be done, and they didn’t want any part of it.

  After a discreet but very busy interval, Diocles made his way up to the women’s quarters to reassure the ladies and their personal maids and eunuchs that he was back and firmly in charge. He deflected the rumor that Zenos had been gruesomely murdered by simply stating that it was too early to say just what had occurred, but he, Diocles, was doing his best to ensure that everything was put back to normal.

  Eventually he found himself at the entrance to Tamura’s chambers and tapped gently on the door, which opened as though Siranos had been standing right behind it waiting for him. The eunuch smiled a genuine smile of welcome and bowed very low, while managing at the same time to announce him. “My lady, The Chief Minister is here to see you.”

  Lady Tamura glided across the floor of the apartment and gave her hand to him with a smile to melt his heart. “I am so very glad to see you, Chief Minister. We have been very worried about your… health.” Her eyes told him of her relief to see him. Instead of drawing her hand away after he had gone through the motions of kissing it, she held onto his hand and led the way to the low table, which was laden with his favorite sweetmeats and fruit; clearly it had been prepared with a view to his expected visit.

  “You must tell me everything that has been happening to you. Is the news good, my Lord?” she asked with a slightly nervous smile.

  He smiled back. Tamura seemed genuinely pleased to see him. For the first time in a long while Diocles felt that he had someone who cared for him in his life. Having no family of his own, it meant a great deal.

  “My Lady, I will be happy to tell you everything I know,” he responded. He seated himself, and Martina bustled up with a cup of his favorite wine. “We have a little time before the Emperor comes back. Did any of the disturbances of last night affect you, my Lady?” he asked solicitously. There was a mischievous glint in his eye, which Tamura didn’t fail to notice.

  She gave him a look from under her pretty brows and said, “I was not troubled by any disturbances, Chief Minister, and certainly I did not feel any sense of danger.”

  The slight curve at the corner of her mouth told him all he needed to know, and it amused him immensely. So he had detected her perfume when the young man from the castle had arrived on the ship. He smiled again; it was almost as though he had a slightly wayward daughter of whom he was very fond. Their conversation re-focused on the previous night’s events, and he told her of the impending invasion.

  Tamura was initially very alarmed, but Diocles hastened to reassure her, explaining what he intended to tell Isaac, and the actions he had already taken to thwart the invasion. She frowned at the thought of bolstering the reputation of the dead Gatherer of Information, but finally agreed it was all for the good.

  *****

  Isaac Komnenos, the self-styled Emperor of Cyprus, arrived in the middle of the afternoon the following day. He enjoyed the pomp and ceremony which, after much practice supervised by Diocles himself, had improved greatly from the first dismal attempts made by the ruffian mercenaries. The blare of the trumpets, the shouted commands and the lines of men at attention always put Isaac in a good mood. One day, he decided, he was going to have a real parade, just like those that the Emperor of Byzantium held every year on his birthday.

  He made his way slowly toward the palace, followed by the commandant who had accompanied him to the other cities of his empire. They were greeted at the steps to the main entrance by the Chief Minister in all his finery, who looked impeccable and appropriately subservient as he led the bowing and scraping of the courtiers. The Emperor mounted the steps and turned to survey the populace.

  There was the usual crowd of onlookers, except that perhaps there were fewer of the peasants to attend his arrival. Isaac was not popular. There were still those who were bold enough to shout insults from the back of the crowd, which annoyed him no end. He liked large crowds of cheering followers and had once raised the notion of sprinkling paid cheerers among them, to the horror of his Chief Minister, who had disagreed tactfully.

  “My liege, it would cost money we cannot spare, and hirelings in the crowd could lead to arguments and dissent. I shudder to think that one of your hirelings would cause injury and perhaps even death on our streets. Or worse, what if they brag to others that they were paid, and peasants clamor to be paid for cheering you?”

  He had almost rolled his eyes at the suggestion, but the Emperor had been watching him with his own slightly protuberant brown eyes, so he’d had to maintain an impassive face despite his feelings.

  It was during the meal later that day that the Emperor looked around and remarked, “I notice that you are accompanied.” He indicated the two men with his chin. “ Why is that? You don’t normally have an escort.”

  “They are, in fact, for your protection, my Liege,” Diocles said smoothly. “I found two of the best, most capable men to guard your august personage.”

  “They certainly look dangerous to me. I hope they are trustworthy,” the Emperor said, but then his shallow mind twitched elsewhere.

  “Where is my Chief Information Gatherer? Why was he not present to welcome me? Is he still in Paphos?”

  “Ah. Forgive me, my Liege. I have been waiting to tell you of this. It is such tragic news, and I wanted to chose the right moment.”

  “What is it?” Isaac snapped, beginning to look bothered.

  “Ahem. The was doing his duty when, as far as we can make out, he uncovered a heinous plot against yourself, indeed against the country, my Liege.”

  Isaac started and glared at him. “What are you babbling about? Go on, spit it out!”

  “My Lord, remember the ‘Ambassador’ who came to visit us?”

  “Of course I do. Where is he, by the way?”

  “My Lord, he has departed, fled like the cowardly dog that he is, after seeing to it that your Chief Gatherer of Information was, ah, dealt with. Zenos must have confronted him with the knowledge that the Emperor of Byzantine was going to send a fleet to invade Cyprus!”

  Isaac gasped and stopped eating; he even stopped chewing. His face went dark and he stuttered. “G-God help us, what are you saying, man? That we are to be invaded?”

  Diocles nodded his head, looking very sad. The already deep lines of age and worry on his features appeared to deepen even more.

  “Zenos, God bless him and grant his soul peace, managed to get a message back to me before he left for the villa, where he expected to extract a confession and arrest the man.

  “Yesterday, when we had heard nothing, I became suspicious. I sent men to the villa. They found it abandoned and the ‘Ambassador’ gone. His ship was seen to sail with the dawn yesterday. I am very grieved to say that Zenos and his two soldiers were found murdered, just left lying there!” Diocles choked as though deeply affected and even managed to make his eyes wet with grief as he shook his head. He dragged out a piece of cloth from his tunic to dry his eyes. “He died a hero, my Lord!” He lifted his eyes upwards with a pious expression on his face, as though appealing to the very heavens. “He died trying to protect us all, my Lord!”

  But Isaac was barely listening. Everything he had accomplished, the capture of this ripe fig of an island and
holding it against all odds, was now threatened. Simply because a spy had come to undermine his rule, and that upstart of an ‘Emperor’, Angelos, wanted to steal what was rightfully his!

  “The filthy swine!” he muttered.

  “Beg pardon, my Liege?” inquired Diocles, as though not fully understanding.

  “How do we stop this, this invasion?” Isaac demanded in a louder tone. He looked more insulted than fearful.

  “Erm, I have already taken steps to counter the invasion, my Liege,” Diocles replied. “I pray I have not overstepped my authority, Lord, but I sent two fast boats with a message for King William the Norman, warning him of this act of perfidy. If the wind holds, they should arrive in Sicily within a matter of days. I reminded him that you were a most loyal ally, but that we are vulnerable to an act of this magnitude and treachery. I begged for his help in your Royal name.”

  Isaac nodded his approval and relaxed a little. “When did you send the messengers?” he demanded.

  “Yesterday, the moment I knew, Your Majesty.”

  “It will be at least a couple of weeks before we know anything,” Isaac remarked, counting on his fingers and looking distracted.

  “Yes, Lord, but your presence will be of immense value to the loyal citizens of the island. If they see you traveling about unperturbed and showing kindness to all, they will draw courage from your presence and remain steadfast. Now more than ever they need the illuminating leadership of their emperor.” Diocles knew how to ooze flattery as well as any of his eunuchs.

  Isaac preened. “I agree with you. I shall show myself to be the leader they know me to be and give them courage.”

  “What, may I ask, should I do about the late Chief Gatherer of Information, Lord?” Diocles asked politely.

  “He shall have a state funeral, of course, with all the honors due a hero of the empire,” Isaac pronounced. “I only wish I could get my hands on that bald bastard spy from Constantinople!” he said savagely. His fingers twitched as he spoke. “I thought he was a mere abacus flicker. Who would have thought he was an assassin?”