Chapter 69

Back in the Big Stink

It was the height of summer and the Queen of Cities was at her sweltering worst. A miasma of stench blanked all. Beasts of burden - the oxen, horses, donkeys, mules, and camels which brought in the city’s supplies left their manure in the streets. Rats dodged among the turds. The reek of open sewers, clogged latrines, drifting smoke, rotting garbage, sweat, and cooking food was overwhelming.

Following their escape from Nicea (which Pons considered a strategic withdrawal by way of tactical reattempt), the mercenaries returned to their former haunt near the forum of Constantine and announced their arrival with kicks and curses evicting the family which the Golden Eel’s owner had allowed to lodge in their absence. He and his wife had, understandably, given the mercenaries up for dead.

“Mother, even from my grave, my ghost would come for your food. Can a ghost eat? Maybe I would simply enjoy the cooking aroma and spook the customers.”

That tasty aroma, welcome on the first night, would become lost among the other smells as the heat of summer progressed. The largest city in the world once again quickly proved to be a small village. Both Nestor the storyteller and Zinth the hunchback turned up with their hands outstretched looking for a free meal. Pons provided. He needed Nestor, or more accurately his network of urchins, and he also had an idea as to how to make the misshapen beggar useful as well.

Pons and Cyn had made their way back to the capital before Emperor Andronikos and his army, but their foe was certain to return. Would the Emperor and his noseless henchman seek after him? No. Pons finally decided, in all likelihood, not finding him among the dead in Nicea, they would assume he had fled. There was no reason for either man to suppose he would return to Constantinople and actively search for him. Most likely he would be forgotten. Still, he would grow a beard and don a broad brimmed hat, like all the Greek farmers, to hide his appearance.

With Andronikos absent, Pons felt it safe enough to sit at the hippodrome with an easy view of boy Emperor Alexios II, who was in the kasthima with his adorable betrothed, Agnes. She held his hand when she was not clapping with excitement between the races at the spectacles - not executions - which were given over to tumblers, mimes, exotic animals on parade, and jugglers.

Pons did not bet on their way in, though Cyn did. Kosmas gave them a dirty look but took the wager. Alexander ‘the Great’ - whose racing career had remained competitive over the winter and spring - paid two against one as winner of the third race. This time a mere twenty silver byzants were collected on their way out from the ten gambled. Cyn even did the courtesy of advertising, “Kosmas pays!” to all who would listen.

They walked back to the Golden Eel with more than enough for a good supper. It was damned well time Cyn paid for once. Walking in they found tall, lean Marius all dusty and sweaty at a table in the common room. He still wore his red and white livery. Back slaps, hand shakes, and ‘Well mets’ all around. Nestor and Zinth were introduced. Zinth’s back was rubbed. Food and Wine!

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

“The guard at the gate told me to look for you here. He says he will stop by to be paid later.”

“What news do you bring?” Pons asked.

“Little. I am acting as Lord Guilhelm’s herald. I am just doing it quietly.” Marius' voice shifted to a whisper. “Make way. The Marquis de Montferrato comes. Give way.”

“So, the Margrave is coming? How far behind you is he?”

Marius spit out an olive pit, finished the last of the wine in his cup, stretched his long legs out, grasped the overhead beam with his hands while still sitting, and looked about as if seeking a place to piss, before he said. “We parted in Dyrrachium a week ago. I rode overland, but he was going to hire a ship and sail. You know how I travel. You know how he moves. Faster than a snail, but not quite as fast as a tortoise. And this time it is worse than ever. He is older, and the entourage he is bringing. Madonna, save me. What is he not bringing? He is convinced he will never see Montferato again. Lady Joanna is as bad. What he did not think to bring she pressed upon him.”

“They are right. He probably will not see Monferrato again; he is an old man traveling into a dangerous land in an uncertain time. Does he bring soldiers?” Pons asked.

“No. Only servants. He only wants to stop in Constantinople for a few days in secret to find out what you know and how you are getting along. Then he and I will continue to Jerusalem. He is cautious, fearing that Guy de Lusignan, Queen Sybilla’s new husband, would see soldiers as a threat. No, Margrave Guilhelm is simply a caring grand-papa who has come to see his eldest son’s only orphaned child learn his manners and his catechism to become a proper king. Why even now, I am simply a riding instructor going back to see to the prince’s horsemanship. We need to pick out a pony for him.”

“What about us?” asked Cyn. “Will we be going to Jerusalem with you, returning to Montferrat, or staying here?”

“I guess that depends on what you know and how you are getting along?” He paused to wave the hostess over to refill his cup. “Where to…?” he pointed to his crotch.

“Nestor, point him to the piss jars.”

“My Lord Conrad, however, is training an army. That will give him something to do. His wife and child died during a birthing.” Marius said over his shoulder as he was led out.

Pons nodded and looked somber. He could not remember Conrad’s wife’s name. God, he was getting old. He had attended the wedding. She had been a daughter of one of dame Judith’s elder brother’s vassals in Austria. Baroness… something. “To her memory,” he toasted and drank.

When Marius returned he picked up his filled cup and sat.

“It is too much to hope that the Margrave sent you with any coin. Bribes, burials, and revolts are expensive.”

“I have a bit of traveling money. Why are you broken?”

Pons waggled his hand in a so-so motion. “I would feel comfortable with more.”

“You could bet on the chariots like I did.” Cyn gloated.

“I would prefer to stack the odds in my favor. Boys, who is up for a little adventure?”

Bemused stares all around.

“Right! Nestor, get along to the carpenters who fixed our upstairs room. Find a compass saw and bring it back here. Cyn, gather your kit. Marius, have some more wine, you may need to be drunk to agree to this. Zinth, with the summer’s heat the cisterns under the city must be running low. Do you think you could lead us to where the chariots are stored at the base of the hippodrome? Unseen like?”

Growing smiles all around.