“We have been waiting for you,” the man said quietly. “You were expected a week ago.”
“I was delayed by storms off Crete. We had to take shelter for four days,” Caravello responded.
“You are wanted at the villa. You must be there two nights from now,” the man almost whispered. “Come when you are sent for.”
Caravello nodded and turned away to take a swig of his wine. When he looked back the man had disappeared.
“Did you see that? Where did he go?” he asked Davide.
Davide shook his head. “I saw him come but I did not not see him leave. He was like a ghost.”
“This city is full of ghosts and odd people. Never could trust a one of them. Look what they did to the Venetians,” Caravello muttered uneasily.
*****
The messenger came again on the third evening, when Caravello and his two companions were seated on board his ship waiting for just this. As he boarded, his hood fell back, revealing angular, pock-marked features. He told Caravello he was expected at the villa that night. Having accomplished his mission, the man dropped back into the small skiff and was rowed back to shore, where he disappeared into the throng on the wharf.
Caravello considered his situation, for just walking through the city after sunset was in itself dangerous for a Latin. A citywide curfew had been imposed on all the Latin people, including the Genoese, because of their rowdy behavior in the past, to ensure that they did not get up to any mischief during the hours of darkness. They were obliged to stay in their quarter and not wander about. Caravello was well aware of the Greeks’ dislike for the Latins, but he now had a pressing errand and it was long past due.
As the sun set in a blaze of glory behind the low hills of the city and darkness flowed over the seaways and plunged the hills above the harbor into darkness, Caravello ordered his men to row him ashore. Once there he told Christophas to wait for his return. Accompanied only by Davide, he walked unobtrusively through the gates of the harbor, turned south up the steep slopes of the hillside, then slipped out of the compound. They made their way up the North slope of the hill following the stone road that lead past the palace of Botaneiatis amid its extensive gardens.
Their destination was a villa that was situated on the Second Hill near the top, not very far from the Severin Wall, which was the second-most inner city wall. The city had outgrown several walls in its time. As the broken battlements loomed on his right Caravello turned left to take a path along the side of the hill. He was now well into the older part of the city, a far more dangerous place for him to be. If the night patrol found him here without a good reason, they would put him in jail and it would be weeks before he could get out. Indeed, at one time a patrol did tramp by, their hobnailed sandals scraping on the stone surface, while the two sailors hid in the deep shadows of a bridge archway. They waited several minutes before abandoning the cover of the darkness and continuing on their way.
Caravello, followed by Davide, walked with the confidence of having been here many times, so it was without hesitation that he stopped outside a small doorway set into a substantial wall. He tapped gently on the door and waited. A dog barked in the street further down, but other than the incessant chirp of crickets and the croaking of frogs the area was quiet. Further along he could hear the muted sound of a city that never seemed to sleep.
He tensed as they heard footsteps coming towards the door on the other side of the wall. There were several people coming towards them.
“Who is there?” a voice demanded.
“Visitors from Cyprus,” Caravello whispered. It was a code that identified him.
A bolt scraped and the door creaked open on leather hinges. A tall, thin figure that Caravello knew to be one of the household eunuchs greeted him. Next to the eunuch was a servant bearing a torch, but there was also a hooded figure behind the slave who seemed poised for any trouble.
“Hello, Markos, you know me; and this is my bodyguard. Tell that assassin to keep his distance. I am here to see your master.”
The thin man nodded and led the way in silence along the garden path towards the main building. The villa was as large as a small palace. A low second story marked it as the residence of someone of very substantial means.
They were shown the way through an entrance into a long passageway to the rear of the house that was quiet at this late hour. Only the night servants and the sentries would be about.
There was a glow of lamps burning in a room at the end of a long cool passage lined with stone columns and recesses that held busts and plants. The ceiling was so high he could not make out the details of the intricate workmanship in the dark. Their footsteps clicked on the polished marble tiles, which gleamed with the reflection of the torch carried by the silent servant who led the way. Caravello could see two armed soldiers with shields and spears on either side of the doorway they were approaching. He had a distinctly uncomfortable feeling about the hooded man who walked soundlessly behind him.
The servant stopped at the entrance to the room and, with a nod to the sentries, led the way in. Caravello signaled to Davide to remain at the entrance and then walked into the room.
“The Captain Levaggi, Sirs.”
The murmur of conversation halted at their arrival. There were two others in the large spacious area in front of him. One of them stood up to greet him. The other continued to recline on a couch near to some low tables laden with the remains of a light dinner.
Markos bowed himself out of the room but the hooded man remained just inside the door. As he left Markos shut the main door so that the occupants would have complete privacy.
Senator Spartenos stood up and greeted Caravello with his arms wide, although he did not embrace him.
“Ah, Caravello, finally you have arrived! It has been a long time. I trust you had a good voyage?”
“Nothing but the usual hazards of wind and weather to contend with, Senator,” Caravello said as he accepted a silver goblet of wine. He sipped it appreciatively as he was shown to a seat near to the other man in the room.
He was well used to the decor of wealthy houses in the great city of Constantinople and he had been here before, but this room was sumptuous and always impressed him. The polished tiles and pillars reflected the light from a dozen oil lamps burning with almost no smoke, which told of very clean and expensive oil. The floor to ceiling shutters were open to allow a light breeze from the sea to cool the room, making the diaphanous curtains billow. He glanced around in awe at the beautiful stone statuettes, gold and silver wares, and frescoes illustrated in gold leaf and colored tiles. Just the contents of this room would buy him another ship, he thought wistfully.
He forced himself to pay attention as the senator spoke.
“We can discuss your voyage, and perhaps then we can talk about the main purpose of your visit. I apologize for the time it took before I could call the meeting, but these things have to be done with care.”
Caravello nodded. He had not minded waiting; he had made several decent deals while kicking his heels in the Genoese quarter. He would have a full cargo no matter how it went.
“This man takes an interest in what we are about tonight.” The senator indicated the man who was now sitting up, watching Caravello with large grey eyes from under thin manicured eyebrows. Caravello noted that the senator had not given the man’s name. He was dressed in a long colorful tunic that had intricate patterns and colors sewn into the fabric. It could only have been made of silk, Caravello decided. The man was obviously very rich but not particularly strong looking, although his eyes were sharp and regarded him with interest—but also distrust. Caravello wondered if he were a eunuch. Not a few had climbed the social ladders to arrive near the top in this empire.
“You were able to trade with the islands and bring in my cargo, I hear,” the senator said. “I am pleased, as that will make us all better off.”
“I sailed to Crete and managed to convince the authorities that I was a licensed trader for t
he Venetians. I only had to show them one of the forged documents. They fell for it easily.” Caravello barked a laugh. “They are greedy people who want their cut of everything, and so long as they get it they do not really care where you come from. The silk sold so fast that I wish I had doubled the load or brought another ship with me. The icons do well too, though, alas, they are in short supply now, as you know. The cargo I brought back is of iron, salt, and dyes, and of course the coin we gained in the process.”
There were dry smiles from the other two. “The important thing is that you managed to trade despite this suffocating ban imposed by the…administration. I shall send my man down to collect my coin tomorrow.”
“Then he should bring someone to help him, Senator, with a guard.” Caravello grinned, “As long as the Emperor keeps all the Venetians in jail I can make a big profit. In one fell swoop he took away all our competition. I will never understand why he did it, but I am not complaining.” Caravello took another swig of wine.
“You still have to be very careful not to advertise for whom you are doing business in this city, or we will find ourselves explaining things in front of the Logothetes tou Praitoriou.
“Remind me who they are?” Caravello asked, puzzled.
“The authorities of the law. More powerful than the customs people you know. It is forbidden to trade at any Venetian controlled country at present, and as you were doing so on my behalf they would throw you in jail to join your friends.”
“Ah…yes, you did say so before. But they are no friends of mine, I assure you.” The captain sipped his wine and reached for a sweet cake.
“Not all the Venetians are in jail, but we will leave that for another time,” the senator said with a glance at the other man. He went on. “You must listen very carefully now.”
Caravello sat up.
“I need you to go to Cyprus and then come back via Rhodes, where I will have another task for you.
“I am at your service, Senator.” Caravello smirked.
Spartenos gave him a long, hard look. “Very well. It is a simple task, but a very important one that I want you to carry out. You have done me many favors, and I trust you. But you must swear upon all that is holy that you will divulge nothing of this to anyone, anyone at all.”
He stopped, staring hard at Caravello, almost as though he was reconsidering making his request.
“What is it you want done?” Caravello asked after a long pause.
The other man in the room said, “You have to tell him something, Senator. Warn him and then tell him.”
“Understand, what I am about to tell you this evening is dangerous for all of us. if a single word gets out we will all be tortured to death. You included.”
Caravello was not a coward but this jolted him. At the same time, he smelled profit. “Go on, you know I am to be trusted.”
The senator nodded. “But…just in case you forget, even for a moment, remember this. In this room is a man who is a master assassin, and he will find you, no matter where you hide, and you will not be able to sleep because he will be there when you least expect it.”
He pointed to the hooded man standing silently by the door. “Constantinople has many of these people and I own several of them. You won’t forget, will you?” he asked gently as he stared into the captain’s eyes.
Caravello took a swig of wine and nodded. “I truly swear by all the saints and the Holy Mother of God.”
The senator reached forward and clapped him on the shoulder. “Good, then we understand one another. There is an Arab fleet in the vicinity of Rhodes, which you will guide to a certain destination. In Rhodes there are two Byzantine warships that are on duty. You are to follow them when they leave the island to patrol the seas nearby. They do this very regularly. When it is close to darkness you will signal the Arab fleet as to the whereabouts of the patrol ships. That is all you will have to do. Do you understand what I am telling you?”
“Yes, you want me to tell the fleet where the Byzantine ships are going to be on a certain night. Why, what are the Arabs up to? Do they intend to strike at the island?” Caravello asked.
“That is not your concern. Your task is very simple. No danger to you whatsoever. You will be given instructions as to how to contact the fleet later. Now you must go about your business as though nothing is happening.
Caravello’s mouth was dry as he contemplated the request. “This is treason...although you say there isn’t is much danger to me!” he whispered. He licked his lips and took another long swig of his wine. He would have preferred something even stronger at this moment. He knew he was on dangerous ground, but he also wanted something so badly that he risk a great deal to bargain for it.
“If I agree to...to this mad scheme, what is in it for me?” he demanded. “Gold will not suffice this time.” he added.
“It is part of a far greater purpose than just wealth for you or me! It will free us of the yoke of the emperor and his capricious actions which are destroying our empire.” The senator almost hissed that last part.”
“It is not my empire...I merely trade with it.” Caravello said as calmly as he could.
What do you want? Land? More ships?” Spartenos demanded.
“No Senator, I have those aplenty,” he lied. “I want...I want one of those machines, one of those liquid fire machines,” Caravello blurted out. He almost wanted to take his words back when he saw the icy expressions on the faces of the senator and his companion.
There was complete silence in the room for some long moments.
“Do you have any idea what you are asking for?” Senator Spartenos finally asked with a distinct edge to his tone.
Caravello gulped. “Yes...but you are asking me to put my head on the block for you. At least reward me properly. I shall not do it for less.”
“I could make you rich with lands here in Byzantium.” Spartenos offered.
“With the Greek Fire I can make myself rich...wherever I choose to be!” Caravello retorted.
The Senator nodded his comprehension, “Ah...I see.” His gaze drifted to the figure by the door.
The tension in the room was palpable and Caravello glanced nervously towards the dark, hooded figure near the door, half expecting it to come for him he was so nervous. His armpits began to sweat.
Finally, after a long look at the other man seated nearby, who gave an almost imperceptible shrug, the Senator nodded, staring at Caravello, a speculative look in his eyes. “Very well...I will see if it can be arranged. But know this, once you have the fire apparatus on board you will be complicit in this scheme and there is no turning back.”
“D’you think I am mad? By God and all the saints! You are granting me power on the seas that no one has outside the Byzantine navy. Of course I will not say anything. I swear it.”
You had better be sure of yourself, Caravello, because I meant what I said earlier.”
“I told you, I swore an oath, and I shall repeat it if you like,” he muttered with another glance at the ominous figure by the door. He felt a little cold; the atmosphere in the room had changed.
A vision flashed before Caravello’s mind. He was watching a ship burn to the water. It was his ship that had caused it and the burning vessel was Venetian and all her crew were dying, burning as though roasting in Hell. He detested those people.
Caravello licked his suddenly dry lips. “By God, I would have one of the most powerful ships in Christendom. Outside of the Byzantine navy, that is,” he whispered, and took a long draught of his wine. His pulse was pounding.
“Then it will be arranged. Stay on your ship and wait. Before long you will receive a signal, which will tell you where your ship should be placed so that we can load it.”
“I will need people to work the machine. No one outside the Greeks knows how to operate it.”
“That will be taken care of when the time comes. I want you to remain in harbor for the moment, but move the ship to the Neorion harbor within a day or so. I will obtain th
e necessary papers to allow this.”
“May I ask why I should move out of Prosphorion?” Caravello asked.
“Prosphorion has a wall right across the entire harbor with steel gates, whereas you would be anchored in the bay of Neorion and able to take on cargo and eave without notice when the time comes. Do not forget you have goods to deliver to Cyprus before you sail back to Rhodes. We will make good money out of it and it will be tax free, I promise you. Do not forget to come back, will you? You work for me.” His smile was cold.
Caravello glanced at the assassin and shuddered.
They spent the next hour discussing locations and timing, as well as how messages would be relayed back and forth. The Senator never did get around to telling him about the others who were involved.
Dawn was only an hour away when Caravello left the villa. He slipped out of the same door he had entered, with Davide on his heels. The captain gave one backward glance to the entry as though he expected the man in the hood to be there, but there was no one. He turned his attention to making his way back to the Genoese quarter without being caught. It was long past the time when the patrols bothered to tramp around the streets of Constantinople, but they took great care in any case. Despite his elation he was cautious. It would not do to be careless in this city.
*****
After Caravello had gone, the two men continued to discuss their plans.
“Do you really think you can obtain the liquid fire and get it onto his ship?” the seated man asked. His tone was skeptical.
“Constantinople is at the center of the empire and as such anything, anything at all, can be purchased at the right price, my friend. You know that. Yes, I am sure we can find what we are looking for.”
“Our patron is impatient to move as soon as possible, Senator.”
“All in good time, my friend. Listen, Basileios, you must persuade him to be patient. There are many dangers and risks involved, and I for one do not wish to move without a sound base. The emperor might have many enemies, but he also has friends in the Army and the Navy, although I cannot understand why any of the generals would want to stay with him. A number of them are firmly on our side. They are sick of the incessant taxes and rapacious officials who are bleeding this empire and the nobility white, while the emperor spends lavishly on his feasts and visitors. Manuel is no Alexios, nor even in the same league as his father John Komnenos, whom I admired. He panders to the Latins one moment and then strikes at them the next. Who next, the nobility of the empire?”
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