Chapter 84
At Pandarus’ slave market and brothel, Mariapitkee was able to care for Eyrinne. Still, her sister was unable to tell of the violation she had endured and the murder she had witnessed. Eyrinne wept - Maripitkke, no longer capable of tears, held her sibling as she sobbed and sang softly. For the few days they were together, she attempted to provide comfort.
“Don’t lose hope, sweet sister. I have met a man. A wonderful man. He will help free us.”
Her heart sang when, before her return to the palace, Cincinatus and Ser Pontius - as he now called himself - visited again.
The servant was more senior than her beloved. Not surprising. She had suspected as much.
Pons (as her love called him) wanted her to broaden her investigation and seek information about the officials and toadies who surrounded the Emperor. In particular, she was asked to discover as much as she could about three men.
The first was the black clad one with the face like a skull - the minion who frightened her. Ser Pons had some history with that one - of this, Mariapitkee was sure.
Another was the eunuch who brewed the Emperor’s daily anti-toxin. He was suspected of poisoning the son of the kindly noble who had visited.
The third… seemed of no consequence.
* * *
The entire atmosphere of the palace had changed upon her return. What had been a feeling of fearful apprehension had worsened to a sense of resigned despair. The miasma of oppression was most palpable in the women’s quarters.
The other concubines had witnessed the sight of poor broken Eyrienne, with bruising on her neck and pelvis, before she returned to Pandarus’ Emporium to recover. They were concerned for their own fates.
The lamentations of Andronikos’ daughter, Princess Irene, echoed through the palace. Hysterical with grief, she had truly loved her husband, Alexios.
When the cupbearer - Alexios - was discovered to have absconded, Andronikos had immediately ordered the other bastard son of Manuel, cursed with the same name, arrested, blinded, and exiled to a monastery on the Princes’ Islands.
“Spare me your screeching, you shrill shrieking harpy!” The Emperor slapped her. “Only the fact that he is my son-in-law has spared him from outright execution. I cannot allow another of the Komnenos line to be a claimant.”
Despite the beating at her father’s hands, her wails and moans lingered.
In another part of the women’s quarters, the French Princess was numb with trauma.
Her nuptials were hasty, discreet, a fait accompli - accomplished while the shocking news of Emperor Alexios’ death made the rounds. Her wedding night and the fulfillment of her wifely duties were a horror.
Mariapitkee switched from caring for her battered sister to caring for the abused… Empress? The poor, lonely child was now Augusta?
Her own ‘training’ at a similar age had left her with no illusions as to the life that lay before her, but for Anna, she felt sympathy. Her life was supposed to have been different. She had come to Constantinople to marry the heir.
Mariapitkee could recall the days before the foreign princess’s arrival. Crowds of common people, particularly children and mothers, gathered along the miles of the city’s seawalls for days leading up to her expected arrival. Disappointed and dejected in the evenings, they would furl their welcome banners and discard their wreaths and bouquets, only to reappear each dawn with new flowers and even more icons. When the Princess’ ship was finally spotted and she alighted on the pier to have her hand kissed by young Alexios, a roar went up from the throng, the likes of which had never been heard in the .
Princess Anna’s hopes were now dashed. The youth she was in love with, her betrothed, was dead. No funeral was held. His body was tossed into the sea with contempt. His memory was scorned by the beast she was now wed to.
Mariapitkee stayed close to the Emperor to subtly divert his attention away from his new child-bride, and to keep watch on the comings and goings of the courtiers and ministers. Andronikos only bothered to attend to affairs of state and made decisions in the early hours of the morning.
Her affectation of wanting to sleep late was indulged, and one day her lounging and feigned sleep paid off. Important as her three new targets were, military intelligence was most vital. The movement of armies. The movement of fleets.
Among the early daily attendants, along with the Master of the Inkstand, the barber, the Bearer of the Chalice of Mithridatium, and the various wardrobe (cotton, linen, silk), was the astrologer.
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
Most of what the Emperor and the stargazer spoke about made little sense. Autumn was turning to winter. The heavens were twisting in their twinkling dance. The scales of probity were giving way to the scorpion’s sting. The ritual with marked tiles in the dirty water of a copper basin began.
“What knowledge do you seek, oh Basileus?” The seer inquired.
The Emperor brought the reed straw to his lips. “Who will sit the throne after I am gone?” He blew a bubbling gurgle from deep in his lungs into the dark water, muddy with soil from a freshly dug grave. Lettered tiles rose to the surface.
Mariapitkee heard Andronikos exclaim, “Iota and Sigma? What does this portend?”
The aging sorcerer tried to explain, “The inference could be taken two ways. First, the ‘iota’ could point to your son Ioannes as your first successor with the ‘sigma’ pointing to… a Stephanos… perhaps… as your successor’s heir.”
“Or?”
“Or the iota and sigma could be read as one. When they came to the surface, was it severely or at the same time?”
“They rose almost as one. Iota was first.”
“‘Iota’ and ‘sigma,’ I do not suppose…”
“I have it!” The Emperor cried. “Isaacos! My throne will be stolen by one named Isaacos.”
“Basileus?”
Andronikos turned from the scryer of the stars and rounded on the scrivener of parchment, “The pretender who has laid claim to our island of Cyprus? The mentioned him at the races. Who is he?”
The Master of the Inkstand’s voice quavered. “He is your cousin, most noble one. Named Isaacos after his grandsire, Emperor Manuel’s older brother.”
“Isaacos crossed swords with me years ago. Phagh! His grandwhelp will pay. Send word to the Master of the Fleet. Every ship must sail. Blockade Cyprus. Any ship that attempts to dock at Cypriot port is now our ship. Any ship that sets sail from one is likewise our ship. Write the orders and see it done.”
Mariapitkee hoped this information would prove helpful to Ser Pons and whispered it into the ears of Little Maria, as she braided the girl's hair at the fountains in the Forum of Arcadius later that day.
* * *
When she next met Ser Pontius and Cincinatus, some weeks later at Pandarus’ Emporium, she asked if the information was useful.
“Extremely useful, my dear,” the older man replied. “That is exactly the sort of information I was hoping you would find. Now we need a messenger. What have you learned about the three men?”
“I could not discover where the noseless one lives. He spoke to the Emperor about the mercenary archers encamped outside the city. I do not know if he spends his nights in a camp tent, but he is their leader.”
“The eunuch is called Pterygeonites. He was a servant of Maria Porphrygenita, and she had him carry a letter to Andronikos asking for his help. I am sure Andronikos quickly turned him against Maria and Caesar Ioannes - your Renier. The poisoner lives near the Blachernae Palace, but I was not able to follow him.”
“And the third?”
“One morning, I was able to get him alone, and I asked the astrologer if he could read my palm.”
“What did he say?”
“He was rude and dismissive. He said he was ‘the most reputable seer in the Empire’ and nobles paid fortunes for his divinations. He said he would be damned if he would prognosticate for a harlot.”
Ser Pontius smiled. Why did he smile? Had she said something funny? Ah. No. He was smiling because he had an idea.
“Anything else, before I leave you two little love birds alone?”
“The Emperor said he would take us, the concubines and his new wife, for an outing. He has us pretend to be forest nymphs while he stalks us. My sister and I must teach Empress Anna how to hide.”
“Did Andronikos say where this outing was to be held?”
“Outside of the walls. He wants to be away from the city for a day. Near the Theotokos monastery.”
The mercenary was positively beaming now. “Have a pleasant evening. I have some things to do.”
Left alone with Cyn, she pulled him onto the small bed and covered his face with kisses. He was handsome. He was brave and strong. He was sweet and made her laugh. But Pons was the foxy one.
* * *
The movement of the chess pieces, which led to the first murder, seemed to start innocently.
This time, when the street girls visited, Lady Euphrosyne Katamonitissa half ran to the atrium when the major-domo told her more flowers had arrived, accompanied by a note.
On the first occasion, her steward had made the mistake of taking the blossoms and dismissing the bearers with a wave of the hand, being as they were of no account. The Empress of Hens had left his ears ringing, and a new protocol was in place.
Now the little waifs were invited inside and offered melon slices, while they were gently quizzed.
“Thank you for bringing the flowers. Was the sender in good health when last you saw him?”
“Capatini was jolly.”
“We aren’t to call him ‘Capatini’ anymore, Anna, he is ‘Ser.’ Nestor said his king, or some such, made him a holy warrior.”
Anna giggled over her mouthful of muskmelon, “He looks like a farmer.”
“He told me to give you this note.” Her fingers sticky, Maria handed it to the noble matron carefully.
The parchment was small - no larger than the span of two fingers, and had been written, no doubt, by one of the for-hire scribes who set up a bench in the plaza.
The widow Angelos smiled. “Girl, tell Ser Pontius, he may call on me. My cook will prepare something.”
* * *
The wagon that arrived to pick Lady Angelos up the next day was not driven by Ser Pontius alone. There was a small cadre in attendance.
“I thought we should have some entertainment. This is Nestor, he tells stories and jokes. This is Zinth, he is a rhymer and juggler. You already know Maria and Anna, they will be our chaperones. My lady is still a widow in mourning, si? An innocent afternoon in the country. No hint of a scandal.”
“What a strange picnic we will make.”
With good grace, she climbed onto the wagon’s front bench beside Ser Pontius, who held the reins. Her steward passed up the dishes, loaves, and an amphora. She smiled at the girls and nodded at the elderly… entertainers. Was Ser Pontius charitable to the infirm and orphaned as well?
“And who is this soldierly fellow?” she asked.
“Oh, that’s just Cyn.”
“And what is that contraption he has?”
“It is used for hunting, m’lady,” Cyn replied. “I don’t think there is a word in Greek, but we call it an arbalest where I come from.”
“Are you going to be doing some shooting?”
“Perhaps, ma'am, I will see what game is afoot.”
