Chapter 57

Another Lunch in the Forum of Arcadius

Brother Daniel knelt on the small balcony at the top of the sea green column in the center of the Forum of Arcadius. His prayers and contemplation of the will of God on High were interrupted by whistles and catcalls from young men in the market below as a stunning beauty entered the forum and made her way to the fountains. This was not the first time that Brother Daniel had pulled his gaze and thoughts from the Divine to the same earthly young woman who now sat plaiting the hair of a child into a ponytail. The child he had seen before, she was of the streets, but the erotic wonton was not. Daniel did not chastise her from on high as was his custom. For one thing people by the fountains tended to ignore his sermonizing. Noise from the splashing water, probably. Also he could not bring himself to do so. She might hear, flee, and not return. Then he would never see her again.

On the steps surrounding the pedestal at the base of the great column Mariapitkee was also being watched by three other old men. They were not like the young bucks who called out for a smile as she sauntered past the vendors and hawkers. Everyone watched her, the young men obviously, but also envious and contemptuous glares from the womenfolk came her way. She paid them no heed. If she noticed Pons among the old men by the column all, she gave no indication.

“Heh heh, look at that one will ya. What I could do with her.”

“Zinth, you could not find a willing whore at the cheapest brothel by the docks if you had a fistfull of golden hyperpyron.”

“Oh ho, very witty, Domine.” Nestor always felt it best to compliment the Latin mercenary whenever possible. Everyone likes a little flattery and it is free.

“Does not rhyme,” said Zinthzinphitees.

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“How is my insult coming along? You have had my silver for long enough.” Pons asked.

“It would help if I knew the context in which you intended to use it. At the races? On the street?”

“It will not be over dinner. Something which is sure to get a duel started. ‘Was your nose cut off for your sins, or did it snap off because it was so far up Andronikos’ ass?’ Something like that. Only with a rhyme as you say.”

Over at the fountain, with hugs and kisses, the beauty and the children parted.

“Here, make yourself useful,” Pons counted out a small handful of copper tetarteron coins to the hunchback. “Get a basketful of those meat pies over yonder, and we will have a bite while we sit here.”

The courtesan returned from the direction she came, the children made their way over to the column.

Pons always left Cyn behind on his daily outings to observe the information exchange. There was no need for them to rush into each other's arms and give the game up. The promise of romance was working as a powerful motivator. Perhaps he would suggest at the next monthly meeting that ‘Lord Cyn’ (somehow she had gotten into her head that Cyn was a man of some standing - Pons went along with it) would request her hand in marriage to be his lady wife in the west.

Pons followed along with the orphans girls sing song recitation of the information, some useful - some less so. All of it was helping him develop a picture in his mind of Emperor Andronikos’ movements, habits, and thoughts. The bones of his first wife were to be disinterred from the Monastery of Angurion and reburied at the church at the Church of Forty Martyrs which was currently being restored. Was this an opportunity? Could the Emperor be vulnerable outside of his regular routine? He and Cyn would scout the site of the church for an advantage. As the child recited the names of those to be added to the death list, Pons held up a finger to interrupt her.

“Did you say ‘Kan-ta-koo-zee-nos?’”

“Yes. Ioannes Kantakouzenos and his sons,” the waif replied with certainty. “‘Blinded at the least,’ she said.”

Zinth returned with the pies. Pons passed them out - his largess. One to the cripple, one to the malformed, one each to the orphan children, and a final one for the small girl to carry up the staircase inside the column for the stylite.

Up on high Brother Daniel accepted his lunch, watched, and only kept council with the Almighty.