Chapter 5

The Mission

When Pons entered the hall the lord and his sons were at prayer. He removed the leather cap which covered his balding head and stood quietly in the doorway. When they were finished Conrad helped his father to his feet. At sixty-seven, Guilhem was still a formidable man in good health, but his joints ached. The old man’s face glistened with tears. Boniface adjusted an icon of the Holy Virgin. His hand was sheltering four white wax candles which sat on top of a small shrine. A cool breeze had sprung up as dusk turned to dark. The hall was drafty. Marius had been praying with the others but he now retired to a seat near the window.

“Pons, please join us for a cup of wine.” Margrave Guilhem motioned to a jug on a nearby table with several cups. Boniface crossed the room and began pouring. “We are going to drink to his memory, having just now prayed for his soul.”

Pons nodded and accepted the wooden cup which was offered to him.

“What did Marius tell you?” Guilhem asked.

“Only that my Lord Renier was dead.”

“Did he tell you Renier was murdered? Did he tell you after my boy was slain his body was dumped in the sea to be cast upon the shore and eaten by crabs?”

“Cruel, my liege. Wicked and cruel.” Pons replied gravely.

“He lies in an unmarked grave on unconsecrated ground.”

“Treacherous Greeks, my liege.”

Conrad was sitting by Marius at the window casement now. He idly fingered a rosary. “Pons, we need you to travel to Constantinople and find out what Renier had gotten himself into.” At thirty-seven, Conrad was the Margrave’s heir. He was of a slightly sturdier frame than his brother Boniface, but both of them were handsome men in their prime. They had inherited, like all of their siblings, their mother’s Austrian blonde hair. Conrad wore a neatly trimmed beard which came in slightly more reddish than the yellow hair on his head. Boniface went clean shaven in the summer. “With a handsome face like mine, why hide it?” he would say.

Pons scratched the stubble on his own chin but said nothing. Even before Marius’ arrival today the news from Byzantium for the past several months had not been good. A year ago there had been some sort of trouble between Renier’s wife and her stepmother, the Emperor’s widow.

Pons turned to the tall herald. “What do we know?”

Marius gave a half shrug of his shoulders. “It is complicated. Where to begin?” He paused while Boniface handed him a cup. “After the Emperor died, his widow, Maria of Antioch, became a nun and changed her name to Xene.” Pons recalled hearing when the Emperor had fallen ill and realized his own time was short, he began to wear the habit of a monk and changed his name from Manuel to Mathew. When Renier had married Maria, they had insisted he change his name to Ioannes. Peculiar thing these Greeks did.

Marius continued, “She did not, however, behave like a nun. She almost immediately began to have an affair with the First Sebastos, Alexios.” Pons was not completely sure what a sebastos was. The Byzantines had a huge, complex, and highly stratified imperial court and bureaucracy. Every long bearded minister and palace functionary had some grand title - loved to give titles the Greeks did - which did little to explain what, if anything, the person actually did. Pons thought a sebastos was some sort of chamberlain.

“Was she not supposed to be acting as regent for Alexios, her son?” Boniface asked.

“Yes, she was, but she and her lover, Alexios the Protosebastos, set out to fleece the whole empire. Do you have a position at court? Would you like to keep it? Pay up. Have a government job of any sort? Baking bread for the army? Cutting planks for naval ships? Shoveling shit in the Imperial stables? Want to keep it? Pay up. Don’t want to pay, or can’t pay - no problem - out the door with you - we have friends who will pay. Lots of jobs went to people from Italia.”

And the Latins, Pons knew, were despised by the Greeks. The Church of Rome had split with the Patriarch of Constantinople ages ago and each group saw the other as heretics. Emperor Manuel had some admiration for the Latins, however, and wanted stronger ties to the cities of Milan and Genoa and the Kingdom of Jerusalem. He encouraged trade. Foreign districts had long been established on the north side of the city where the Golden Horn met the Bosporus. Here foreigners were allowed to worship in their own churches, but this led to the Greeks becoming suspicious of Catholic influence. Foreigners were not subject to the same laws and taxes as the locals, so the Greeks resented them. The Italians were arrogant, rude, and behaved badly, so the Greeks were offended by them. The Italians were wealthy, so of course, the Greeks were jealous of them. Pons thought the Italians were wealthier because, unlike the Greeks, they actually made things people wanted and did an honest day’s labor.

Marius continued. “The Greeks loathe her because she is a foreigner - a French speaking princess from Outremer. Then, before her husband is cold in the grave, she jumps into bed with another man, who, by the by, was her late husband’s nephew. So, she was despised even more.”

“So what was Renier doing while all this was going on?” Pons asked.

“I don’t know,” said Marius, “But his wife, Maria Born-to-the-Purple, was up to no good.”

“What does ‘up to no good’ mean?” Conrad interjected.

“Well she hated her mother-in-law and her new lover. I heard within a few months of Manuel’s death, the Protosebastos was strutting around the Blachernae palace like he was in charge of the whole empire. Any decisions had to come through him. Appointments to offices came through him. His ass was basically sitting on the throne, so early last year Maria Born-to the-Purple decided to do something about him. She must have convinced my Lord Renier to help her get rid of him. There were a lot of people who were angry and who felt Renier and his Maria would make better regents for the young Emperor than Alexios the Protosebastos and his Maria. They cooked up a plot to kill the Protosebastos. Unfortunately somebody talked.”

“Were they arrested?” Boniface asked.

“No, Maria and Renier gathered their supporters, including the Patriarch of Constantinople, and they sought sanctuary in the great basilica.” Marius continued, “They barricaded it and turned it into an armed camp. They held it for a month, while both sides gathered forces. Then there was an almighty battle on the streets outside the basilica. My lord Renier gave a rousing speech to his men. I am told he fought like a lion. He had a good position with archers on the rooftops. They say the battle lasted all day, but the Protosebastos had too many soldiers and eventually they had to fall back to the great church itself.”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“Surely they did not dare desecrate the Church of Holy Wisdom, by spilling blood and attacking the Patriarch?” Conrad said.

“No, they sent John Ducas and others to negotiate.”

“I remember him,” said Guilhem, “A great nobleman, serious and just. Did Renier settle with him?”

“Yes they surrendered, were granted an amnesty, and returned to the palace. Things were quiet for a while, but neither of the Marias learned from the experience. The Empress and Protosebastos continued with their extortions, Renier’s wife continued to plot against them to have herself made regent for her stepbrother.”

“Foolish girl,” muttered Boniface.

“Foolish, yes, but not a girl, and that’s the problem,” Conrad said. “She grew up believing when her father died, she would be empress and her husband would be emperor. Emperor Manuel had even fixed the succession on her. Then by a miracle, a baby boy is born. How many times was she engaged to be married before Renier came along? Three? Four? No… she felt robbed of her chance to rule, and she had a knife to sharpen. No question.”

“I never should have let him get married to the Emperor’s daughter.” Lord Guilhem cursed himself. “She was too old for him, and he was too young and inexperienced to be able to deal with the plots these Greeks come up with.”

“I think you have spoken correctly, Lord.” Marius said quietly. “Earlier this year she sent word to Andronicus Komnenos, asking him to help her get rid of the Empress and Protosebastos.”

“Who’s Andronicus Komnenos?” Boniface asked.

“Oh you will remember Andronicus Komnenos.” Conrad prompted. “Do you recall the day we were visiting at court in Constantinople shortly before the wedding and one of Emperor Manuel’s cousins came in to make an official act of contrition? Wearing chains, covered in ash, weeping, banging his head on the floor, begging for forgiveness?”

“The one who was so monstrously tall?”

“Yes. Him.”

“I recall the whole scene with him on the floor and wailing, but can not remember what it was all about.”

Conrad had spent more time in Constantinople, had better Greek, and knew more of the gossip. “His father was the younger brother of Emperor Manuel’s father. Andronikos and Manuel were about the same age and grew up together. I think they were best friends as children, but somewhere along the line Andronikos began to covet the purple for himself and he conspired against the Emperor. He was imprisoned a couple of times and managed to cleverly escape. Later, he was able to worm himself back into favor, only to fall out again after he seduced Maria of Antioch’s sister, Phillipa. He also seduced a couple of his own nieces into incestuous affairs, including Theodora, the widow of Baldwin III who had been King of Jerusalem. Most recently he had tried to attack Trebizond. Of course, the Emperor remembered them horse racing and wrestling together as children and forgave him, but sent him into exile somewhere on the coast of the Black Sea.” Conrad paused to refill his wine cup. “He is as slippery as an eel, cunning, power hungry, and dangerous.”

“Dear God.” Guilhem exclaimed. “This was who Maria Porphyrogenita turned to for help? Was the woman mad?”

“Well… inviting him in was like setting the fox among the chickens,” said Marius. “Andronicus gathered an army, including quite a few Muslim mercenaries, crossed over to Constantinople and brought all Hell with him. After he arrived a mob rioted and attacked the Italian merchants. They killed everyone - women, children, the elderly - no one was safe. They especially targeted the priests and monks. I was told that the Pope’s representative - Cardinal John - his head was cut off and they tied it to a dog’s tail and chased it through the streets.”

“Christos,” exclaimed Boniface. All of the men crossed themselves.

“The mob looted all of the shops and warehouses and set the Latin quarter on fire.” Marius went on. “Tens of thousands were massacred. Only about forty ships managed to escape.”

The large hall grew quiet as the men thought about all they had heard.

“And Renier?” Pons asked.

“I arrived in the city a week after this had happened. The Latin section was all charred timbers and ash. I sought after Renier at the palace, no one knew anything. Few would speak to me and of those who did - most assumed he was dead - some thought he could have been arrested, but no one knew where he was being held. Nobody knew where his wife was either. They had both vanished. A crier eventually brought me to a fisherman who had found the body of a tall young blond man in his net. His local priest was terrified and wanted nothing to do with the body, so the fisherman buried him in the sand upon the shore of the Propontis south of the city. His son showed me the spot and we began to dig. It breaks my heart to say it, but it was him.”

“You’re sure?” Pons asked.

“Yes. He had the scar across his knuckles he took when you were teaching him swordsmanship.” Pons recalled an autumn day several years ago in the practice yard when he parried a youthful Renier’s clumsy lunge and almost severed two of the boy's fingers. “There was no obvious death wound. I could not say how he died. As to how he came there: the fisherman said he had been wrapped in the complicated folds of an old style toga, and he guessed it acted like a sail - only underwater - with the currents and tides carrying the body as the wind does a ship. I told him to keep the toga - a valuable cloth with a purple stripe. He also gave me a ring he found with the body.” Marius produced a silver ring with a pale green stone.

“I gave it to Renier before the wedding,” said Conrad. “For luck.”

“Forgive me my liege, but the Greek priests refused to have him interred in one of their cemeteries, and I had no money to bribe them. He still lies on the beach.”

“No Marius, you do not need forgiveness. You have served us well.” Guilhem said, his voice heavy “Go now to the kitchen and have a meal. Ask one of the maids to prepare you a bath and wash the dust of the road off yourself. You have our thanks.” The tall herald rose, bowed, and left the four men alone in the darkening hall.

The twilight had grown dim and the room was only lit now by the glow of the candles flickering on the shrine of the Madonna. The hall was silent. “We need you to find out what happened.” Guilhem said to Pons.

“I will leave tomorrow. As soon as I get to Constantine‘s City I will find this fisherman and see your son gets a proper church burial. Rest assured, my liege.” Pons said. “I’ll nose around, find out what happened, and then send you a message. After that…”

“After that, whosoever killed my brother goes to his own grave.” Conrad replied.

“Aye. I’ll see to it. You understand this is not going to be easy. Young Lord Renier was Caesar. Whoever killed him… well, that was someone who thought he’d get away with it. Someone powerful.”

“I’m sure it was.”

“I’m not going to be able to walk up beside ‘em and slide a knife between their ribs. This is going to take some plannin’ and a lot of time.”

Margrave Guilhem nodded, “Pons, you have always shown yourself to be resourceful. I know. And patient too. Take as much time as you need. I’ll give you some money to get started. If you need more later, send word.”

“One more thing, my lord, might I take young Cyn along?” Pons asked. Cyn was one of Conrad’s men-at-arms, so the question was directed at the older son.

“By all means,” Conrad replied, “If he can be of use to you.”

“I’m not getting any younger. One day he might make a good captain for you, lord. He is not as ruthless an old bastard as I am - yet, but he is smart and the men like him. And I believe he loves your lordship most loyally.”

“Tell him as much as he needs to know. Send a message every now and then to keep us informed.”

“I will, my lord”

“And Pons,” Conrad set the rosary down on the window casement. “I want their balls for this.”

Pons nodded. He intended to take that literally.