Chapter 86 - The Fall of the Knight of Stars
Chapter 86
Of course, there was no official ‘Court Astrologer’ position with a stipend from the treasury. How could the church condone, or the Emperor permit, such superstitious and heretical behavior?
But foolish was the leader who neglected to consult auguries before a battle. Roman generals of old had always looked to the flights of eagles and vultures - even to the pecking of chickens - for divine signs.
It was Skleros Thoth who had divined the - oh so true - on that night long ago for Andronicus’ father. The prophecy that had started Issac’s failed dreams of a coup and Andronicus’ life as a rebel’s son. To this day, Skleros Seth owed his position to his father’s ominous, uncanny castings.
His father had told him their ancestors had once been oracles among the Egyptians - priests of the cat and jackal-headed gods. (Now, of course, cleansed of such foulness and conscious followers of our Lord and Savior.) They were the keepers of Chaldean wisdom - the intricate numerology of the Babylonians, his father claimed.
Egypt? Babylon? Skleros Seth had not ventured further from Constantinople than Nicea on the Emperor’s recent campaign.
His father taught him the movements of planets, (high magic), (low magic), and about the in the world.
Rivers of fire flowed from the tops of mountains with killing smoke and ash - only to have the river of fire turn to stone when it reached the sea. Fire. Air. Water. Stone.
He tried to understand.
Thunder and lightning also came from God. Seafarers told of seeing the fire of St. Elmo - although the Rus sailors called it the light of St. Peter and the Arab traders said it was a fire djinni named ‘Efritti’ - dancing on the masts of ships.
God’s stars, the , also danced.
He watched, studied, and attempted to learn.
Skleros Seth could foretell when and where a planet would appear. A speck appeared in the sky to the left of a tower, but he knew the same speck would re-emerge an evening later by the spire of a church - exactly he said it would. Exactly he said it would.
He could predict the movement of the heavens, but unlike his father and grandfather, he could not read the portents. He saw nothing.
Observing birds, he saw them doing… what birds did. Their flights were meaningless.
Entrails. The slimy guts of slaughtered sheep spelled nothing.
The Lekanomantic water scrying tiles spell, but they bubbled up gibberish.
Whatever ‘magic’ his father and grandfather had - he lacked.
So, to avoid looking foolish, he made it up as he went along.
People seemed happier when he told them what they wanted to hear.
When Emperor Manuel fell ill after his daughter’s wedding, he had taken heart in the clear predictions of good fortune which Skleros Seth divined.
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“A swift return to good health and fourteen more years of rule.”
“Plus, what did I see last night? Venus rising in Virgo. Perhaps a new love affair, . You will be fit again. And a successful campaign against the Sultan. And Antioch will finally swear firm fealty.”
All of it was nonsense.
When Emperor Manuel fell to his deathbed, one of his last acts was to write to the Patriarch of the Hagia Sophia repudiating astrology as lies.
Such a blow.
Fortunately, the Empress Regent and her lover, the Alexios, were not willing to dismiss him out of hand. They still wanted to hear what he - and the stars - had to say.
When the was alarmed because Andronikos was gathering forces and moving on the city, the water scrying had seemed so clear. Two tiles swirled rapidly on the surface, an and a . The lingered for a swirl or three and then sank to the bottom of the copper basin.
All eyes in the room were on him - inspiration struck.
The was - water - the sea. The greybeards nodded. The represented triremes - the navy. The swirling and sinking of the indicated that a great storm was coming, with catastrophic winds that would… cause a waterspout. The fleet had to be secured in port.
The storm never happened.
Then Andronicus’ forces gathered on the opposite coast and began to assemble a fleet of their own.
Scorn and contempt. With all anxious eyes on the walls watching to the east and fearing invasion, a spectacular star shower lit up the sky.
A star shower which Skleros Seth, the sky watcher, had completely failed to predict.
All saw it. after racing from the east to the west across the evening sky.
More scorn.
When Andronikos took the palace, Skleros Seth continued attendance, but everything changed. He no longer faced open derision, for most who once sneered at him were now dead, but every day felt like a test. When the Emperor did deign to speak to him, it felt as if the was looking deep inside of him and finding… nothing.
The Emperor was a miser, and the few coins that came Seth’s way were laughable. A silver stemenon for casting his birthday fortune?!? A witch-woman crone from the horse-tribes could earn that in the market. The only thing the Emperor provided was reputation.
Any trickster could cast fortunes, but being the Emperor’s seer carried prestige that could be leveraged to provide silver. Skleros Seth, like everyone, needed money to survive and provide for his family and household. With times being so turbulent, many wanted guidance. However, his consultations had to be covert.
Oneiromancy, the interpretation of dreams, could be pleasant of the evening over wine, but the most regular source of income was drawing up horoscopes for newly born infants. Foolish was the noble family that did not pay (well) for a discreet examination of the Zodiac (by the Emperor’s oracle - no less) at the birth of a boy.
To his credit, the drivel he predicted: the babe will survive a grave childhood illness, become a commander in the field, father sons who will conquer new lands, would be accompanied a few days later by an intricately illuminated star-chart - a work of art in itself. This soothed the sting of his fee in the minds of the new parents and would lead to further recommendations.
In truth, he did not need to visit the household when the babe was born. All he needed was the year - 1184, the month - October, the date - the 20th, and the hour. But the celebration surrounding the birth of a son always brought out the best delicacies, sweetmeats, and wines. Over dinner, Skleros Seth would ask the during which hour his wife had given birth.
Unfortunately, the night drizzled with rain. His son and apprentice, Skleros Geb, carried a hooded lantern on a pole to light their way down the dark streets. Seth was about to knock at the street door leading to the mansion when a voice from the rain spoke.
“Are you the Emperor’s astrologer?”
Was this a servant from the household out in the street seeking him?
“Yes, I am,” he peered into the falling rain. For an instant, out of the gloom, he saw something tumbling towards his face, end over end.
Drip. .
* * *
Pons jerked his thumb at the kid and hissed like a cat. The linkboy looked at Pons, looked at the body, dropped his lantern, and bolted into the darkness.
Cyn stepped forward from the shadows, removed the unnecessary quarrel from his crossbow, and slid it back into the quiver at his thigh. The wizard had not run. He prodded the body with his toe and slung the crossbow over his shoulder.
Pons retrieved his axe and said a prayer.
“The seer didn’t see that one coming,” Cyn said as he rearranged his cloak.
“Very droll. This may be the first time I have ever killed a man who was not trying to kill me.” He washed the gore off his axe in the downspout from a tile roof, which spilled to the gutter.
“Don’t worry your conscience, Pons, this sorcerer was in league with the dark powers, and any good bishop in any decent Christian land would see him burned or hanged. Only in a city this corrupt is he permitted access to a newborn.”