Chapter 98
It was mid-morning when Cyn finally rendezvoused after an eventful and mostly successful night. Isaac II Angelos was now Emperor of the Romans (as acknowledged by the nobles) and Equal of the Apostles (as acknowledged by the clergy). But it was the people who had made it so. A new age had begun. The top of the column in the Forum of Arcadius stood empty. Brother Daniel had descended and now had a congregation. That, too, was something new.
The day was already another scorcher as the heatwave continued. The line at the fountains was long and growing longer. Cyn pushed and scowled his way to the front of the queue, splashing a dipper of water over his head.
And there, to his right... Mariapitkee.
No.
Water dribbled down his face. Her very double. With her were the two street children from the picnic and Nestor's funeral. The girls were trying to guess the words the beauty was pantomiming.
Pons sidled up. "Andronikos fled."
Cyn rinsed his mouth, spat on the cobbles, and drank another dipper before offering it to Pons. "So I heard. They caught his son and blinded him."
"A mob, not surgeons. They botched it. He died. What's all this?"
"I think Mariapitkee's sister is playing a game with Nestor's waifs."
"No," Pons peered at the performance, which had drawn its own small, bored crowd waiting for water, waving broad leaves as fans. "She is trying to tell them something. Holla, girls!"
"Ser Pontius, you must come," little Maria gushed. "This is the pretty lady's sister; only she can't speak."
"A sorcerer cast a spell and took her voice."
"Don't be silly, Anna," Maria chided her younger sibling. "She has told us ever so much. The Emperor has fled across the sea."
Anna and Eyrienee moved their arms like waves.
"In a ship with rowers."
The girls mimed oarsmen at the bench.
"He has Mariapitkee and the little Empress with him. We do not know where they have gone, but she keeps dripping water on the stones. I think she is making the alphas and the betas, but I do not know them. Do you?"
Pons was at a loss. He scanned the forum. At the base of the column, Zithziphitees sat in his accustomed place. Pons let out a piercing whistle, caught the rhymer's eye, and beckoned him forward.
"Go ahead, my dear. Mariapitkee has spoken of you. We can help. Where have they gone?"
Dipping her finger in the fountain, Eyrienee began to mark the cobblestones. The x shape of the chi was followed by an h-shaped eta. On another stone, the peak of lambda was followed by another h for eta, with a final drop of water forming an accent mark.
Zinth ambled over. "Chelee. It is on the coast of the Black Sea. North through the Bosporus, first port to the east."
"Fetch the fisherman's son," Pons ordered, but Cyn was already running. "Get strong rowers! And plenty of amphorae of fresh water - we will need it in this heat!" Pons called after him.
* * *
Mariapitkee spent much of the navigation of the Bosphorus vomiting over the side of the imperial galley. She had been to sea before, but only to cross the strait, never to traverse its length. She felt fine for the first hour, greensick for the next, but the choppy waves and ceaseless motion eventually sent her heaving to the railing. Anna, who was not prone to seasickness, held her hand, stroked her hair, and cooled her face with a damp . Mariapitkee sniffled, laughed at herself, and hugged the girl. Who was looking out for whom?
Andronikos ignored them, bared his chest, and joined the men on the oars. He seemed to be reliving a past escape on another dromon, rowing away from pursuit down this same strait years ago. He sang chants and cadences to encourage the skeleton crew.
The water on board was brackish, and there was little of it. The men were drained. Dehydrated and tired, the Empress and her concubine tried to sleep in the curtained pavilion at the rear of the ship, where a couch lay next to the Emperor's seat.
Along with the creaking of the oars, Anna hiccupped and sobbed. "I don't want to be the tzarina of the Rus. I don't want it to go on. I heard the helmsman talking to the ship's master. He says a great storm will come tomorrow. He says this is the calm that comes before. If a storm washes me... away... that would not be a sin, would it? I would be at the bottom of the sea with my Alexios. That would be God's will, wouldn't it?"
The sun was setting when the ship and its exhausted crew reached port. Andronikos ordered the harbormaster to see the ship completely outfitted with supplies, sails, and a fresh crew by dawn. No questions. Report to no one. His voice was a sing-song sailor's shanty - an odd newness.
The Emperor retreated to his chair at the aft, deep in thought, stroking his beard and toying with his nail on its leather cord. Mariapitkee could sense he was calculating his advantages.
Time.
He has time on his side. But only a few hours.
I need to delay him.
* * *
The splash of seawater on their faces kept the men cool as they pulled the oars. The fisherman's son manned the tiller and instinctively caught the wind in his sails. The breeze was stronger out on the waves than behind the walls of the city, favorably blowing from the south. Gulls screeched alongside the fishing skiff, which was also propelled by Pons, Cyn, and three sailors who seemed unaffected by the heat. These canny men sensed the mercenaries' urgent need and demanded half of their exorbitant payment in advance.
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Unaccustomed to the labor, Pons fatigued quickly and paused to pour fresh water for the crew as he rested.
"Even if we catch him and get back," Cyn puffed as he stroked, "the city will still be facing a siege." After a night full of adventures, he too was beginning to flag.
"Si. A problem for another day. Our vendetta is against Andronikos. Whosoever sits on the throne in Constantinople is not pertinent. Manuel's bastard, Alexios, would be nice, but a nobleman who was on hand has presented himself. We must take advantage of this opportunity."
"Our new Emperor, Isaacos - he is the younger brother. This will lead to trouble one day, mark my words."
"Si. Another problem for another day."
They exited the Bosphorus and hugged the coast of the wide Black Sea. The fisherman's son adjusted the rigging to take advantage of the changing wind. Lit by the rising moon, the skiff rode the waves, racing beside pelicans swooping at fish.
Pons tapped Cyn's shoulder and motioned to the bowsprit. "Look, that is not a seagull perched there. It is my lucky dove. Ha ha. Keep faith. We will have him yet."
* * *
Mariapitkee spent the night considering her options. She and Anna lay beside the sprawling Emperor, lulled to rest at last by the rocking ship. Lacking guards and fearful of capture, he had not gone ashore to meet the city's governor, nor even to visit the baths. They anchored in the harbor, worn from the day's exertions.
The easiest way to delay their departure was to escape, she finally decided. She did not know the town, but at best, she could hope to find a church or perhaps a convent - any place where the Empress could seek sanctuary. In the morning, when the ship was being loaded, they would try to sneak off, or even run. Should Andronikos come after them and demand the violation of a holy place, that would cost him time. He would be wroth, but questions would be asked: Where were his guards and attendants? What was going on? Given his urgency, perhaps he would press on without them.
* * *
When dawn turned the sky red, the Emperor's dromon maneuvered to the dock. Stiff rowers shuffled off, and new oarsmen shuffled on to take their places on the benches. Others carried aboard food, fresh water, nails, and timber.
Mariapitkee and Anna unobtrusively made their way to the gangplank. Andronikos remained impatiently in his throne-like chair at the aft, chewing his lip and fretting rather than overseeing the loading. She ushered the Empress before her and stepped toward the railing. As she passed a stevedore with a roll of sailcloth on his shoulder, he pinched her bottom.
She whirled. The handsome porter at the end winked. The sail was draped over a crossbow. It was her Cyn!
Ser Pontius dropped the front of the roll onto the dock and smiled at her. He drew a hand axe from his belt and marched to the back of the ship. Cincinatus unslung his crossbow and knocked a bolt. "Come on, love. Don't leave just yet."
* * *
Andronikos could not distinguish between 'then' and 'now.' He was fleeing again, on a ship again. Only this time, the crew coming onboard was fresh, not grey with dysentery. And there were two lovely girls this time. There had been no girls on the other ship. This ship and these girls were all that remained of his empire. Words, of which he was a master, felt... unavailable. Only a sing-song voice could keep him from sputtering with rage. At the end of each sentence, his voice would descend to a note from the bass depths of a choir.
In his left ear, the ship's master droned on about how the recent days of heat and the red dawn meant they dared not sail. The gusting winds were from the north and east. A storm was coming. They would be dashed against the shore.
"No!" Andronikos thundered. "As soon as the ship is loaded, we put to sea. We will sail to Onaion."
A man with a pleasant grin and an axe in hand stepped onto the aft deck. "Captain, we be putting to sea, but we are not going east. We are returning to the capital. Andronikos Comnenus, you are my prisoner."
Behind the grinning man came the girls and another man with a crossbow. He raised the axe to throw. His grin vanished. A second axe appeared in his off hand.
"Captain, you can die on the deck of your ship in vain service to a fallen Emperor, or return with me, captive in tow, and be made admiral by the new one."
"I know you," Andronikos boomed, but he remained seated.
The man motioned for Mariapitkee and Anna to take their places at his side. "Recognize me, do you? I have been around for some time. Have you seen me at the races? Perhaps faces in the crowd are beneath your notice. I know you saw me at Nicea when I pulled Lady Angelos off the battering ram. Is that how you remember my face?"
"Yes. You are a mercenary. Excellent! Come with me. We would be the perfect pair. With me as Tsar and you as my general, we could carve out a kingdom," Andronikos sang.
A snicker of laughter erupted. "He is good, isn't he, Cyn? You can see why the shit from his mouth is such a delicacy for the locals."
"No, we will not be going with you. You will be coming with us. Lady Angelos - from the battering ram - is the mother of the new emperor. She will want to see you. Her son will pay me more for your head than I will ever earn in your fantasy realm beyond the sea."
Andronikos slumped in confusion. "Isaac Comnenos did not break out of Cyprus? Isaac Angelos is acclaimed?" A drool of spittle formed at the corner of his mouth.
"Strange world, isn't it? That is right. Your skull-faced murderer failed to capture her sons. My friend's crossbow stopped him. I still have his blood on my boots. I was the last person he ever saw. This was also the last face your eunuch, with the box full of poison, ever saw. And your astrologer. Yes, that was me. My face will be the last you see as well. The winds do not obey you; you have come to the edge of the world. The king can move no farther."
* * *
"I command here!" Andronikos gripped the handrest of his throne and lurched to his feet. His baritone voice was cut short by a gasp.
A blur of movement flashed so quickly that Mariapitkee could hardly track it. It was so sudden it felt as if time skipped. Had Ser Pontius thrown his axe and stepped to retrieve it? Or had he stepped and then chopped?
Then still.
Four fingers of the Emperor's right hand dropped to the deck - cleanly severed before the first knuckle. His Imperial signet ring fell, spinning in the blood before coming to rest.
Andronikos fell to his knees, open-mouthed and howling at the pain, the affront, the despair. He shrieked as he realized that Nemesis cannot be charmed or bribed.
The ship's captain also fell to his knees, but with his fingers clasped before him in prayer, begging to be spared.
Empress Anna crouched and gingerly picked up one of Andronikos's fallen digits as if it were a strange caterpillar in the gardens. Tears filled her eyes.
"Oh, don't cry, petite dominicella," Pons said. "He will never touch you again." A kick sent Andronikos sprawling. "Everything is going to be fine. I will make you a widow very soon. The new Emperor has sisters, and his mother is very nice. They will take care of you. You see that handsome man with the crossbow? He serves your cousin Conrad. Do you remember Conrad from the wedding? Red beard, superb with the lance in the ?" The girl nodded. "He will be your protector."
Anna smiled. "What about Mariapitkee?"
"Ha! Here is the best part: Cyn, the crossbowman, is her beau." Pons kicked Andronikos while he was down. "That is right. She has been feeding us information about you for years. How do you think we were able to capture you here? After a lifetime of betraying women, one finally betrays you."
Andronikos groaned.
Pons leaned over, but Mariapitkee could still hear his whisper. "Your lieutenants died quickly, but you, I will take piece by piece."
"Captain, cast off! We're loaded and need to outrun the storm," he shouted. "I'm exhausted. Is that a bed back there? Ladies, you can go ahead and kick him in the seeds."
Anna brightened and squealed.
"He..." Mariapitkee began, glancing at the blood on the deck and the fallen man. "He saved me from falling when the railing collapsed."
"Your kindness does you credit," Pons said with a smile.
Cyn bound Andronikos to a railing and pulled one of the Imperial purple slippers off his foot. Sliding it onto her own, she found the buckskin felt enormous and bulky.
"He didn't save your sister's life, though, did he? Give him a boot for her sake. Go on. His rule is over."
She did. And his time was past.
