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Assassins of Kantara

Page 17

by James Boschert


  They had been in the city of Paphos for over a week, settling comfortably into a rented villa that came with a hot baths located on the North side of the city, before Talon sensed that something was not quite right. The harbor seemed quiet enough, sleepy even, seagulls wheeled and dived, the cormorants sat quietly on rocks awaiting an opportunity, and the somewhat scummy seawater inside the breakwater was calm. The fishermen seated on the quays and the beach mending their nets also lent an air of apparent calm, but his instincts were kicking in, leaving him unsettled.

  Max, who was recovering from his ordeal in prison under the watchful eyes of Rav’an and Jannat, also noted that it was not the same place that he remembered. “When I was here last it was very busy,” he told Talon. “The harbor used to be crowded with shipping, Cyprus has always been a crossroads for trade between Byzantium and the south, Palestine and Egypt. Now there are very few ships in the harbor, something seems wrong. You will need to visit a merchant with whom I did business on my last visit. Perhaps he can shed some light on the reason for this odd atmosphere.”

  Taking Dimitri and Reza with him, Talon strode along the harbor front, taking in the fishing boats and the few other merchant vessels in the port. There was a furtive air about the people they passed along the road. At the same time he kept a wary eye open for any of the soldiers, if they could be called that, who slouched around the town; he had not been impressed with these people. He glanced up at the castle perched on the hillside, where he assumed the sheriff of the town lived. The ancient city hugged the coastline, so it would have been very strange if the occupants had not noticed his arrival. He had paid the customs official an exorbitant amount for the privilege of anchoring his ships in the harbor, and he had expected a visit of some kind from some higher official before now.

  “What is going on?” Talon asked his crewman. Dimitri, who was very happy to be out of Acre and once again in the Greek world, shook his head, looking puzzled.

  “I wish I knew, Master Talon, but it will take more than just asking to find out. I can sense that, among traders and visitors from the mainland as well as the fishermen from here, something untoward is going on,” he told Talon. “There is fear and apprehension. I feel it and don’t like it. I think we will have to have a talk with one of the merchants in the city. Traders always have a nose for trouble. Perhaps the friend of Max can help us?”

  Talon and Reza had to agree. Both had been out and about exploring the city with its maze of old streets and Greek and Roman ruins, with Dimitri in tow, seeking a good place for their family to settle permanently, but wherever they went they were met with suspicion and furtive distrust. Talon was thankful that Henry had hand-picked all the crewmen. They were rowers to a man, with huge shoulders and arms, which made them look very imposing. Henry had armed them with spears and swords and used them as bodyguards when any of the family was moving about the town. No one was going to tackle any of these tough looking men on the streets of Paphos; not unless they had an army behind them. The surly mercenaries didn’t choose to accost them either which was interesting.

  After a short walk, his party arrived at the house of a man named Boethius Eirenikos, located at the northern end of town where the harbor ended and the wealthy houses began. At the villa the three men were met by two suspicious guards, whom Talon rated as worthless, but who kept them waiting for a considerable time before a harassed looking secretary bustled out to greet them and asked them to follow him.

  Leaving the sullen guards at the gate, they were led by the secretary up to the main building, a place of pillars, marble flags and colorful mosaics on almost every wall, denoting a wealthy household. A beautiful wisteria vine all but covered the red tiled loggia which overlooked the sea. The house had a pleasant glow in the sunshine with its lime-washed walls, colorful mosaics and bright red tiles.

  They were led across a small courtyard, in the center of which a small fountain bubbled, to a large wooden door and shown inside a high-domed room where they were met by a man dressed in the Byzantine style. He wore a long, close-fitting under-tunic of patterned silk that came down to his sandals, and a blue over-robe adorned with colorful stitching which created filigree patterns down to wide-cut sleeves. His gray hair curled out from under a brown felt hat which resembled a small flat, imitation turban. His beard was trimmed in an old fashioned manner more suited to a generation of Byzantine Greeks from a previous era.

  He rose courteously to greet them, dismissed the secretary, who had given their names to him in an undertone, then bowed politely and smiled with dark brown eyes, “I am glad to meet you, Sir Talon. I have heard much about you from your companion, Max the Templar. Welcome to Paphos. Is Max not with you now?”

  Talon smiled back. “Thank you for asking, Sir. Max is recovering, er, shall we say from a long confinement that affected his health. I will be sure to bring him with me the next time I come to visit you.”

  There was no telling how speedily news could travel, and his security was still very much in question until he could find a safe place to settle. His reply had been guarded, and his host frowned slightly.

  “I trust he is in good health? Please call me Boethius. I think we are able to be informal at this time.”

  Talon bowed in return and said, “Thank you, Boethius. Then please call me Talon. I have to compliment you on such a fine city as Paphos. It is very beautiful, the acropolis is splendid and still used I hear.” They were speaking Attic Greek.

  Boethius gave Talon a sharp look and then friendly smile. “I have to compliment you on your understanding of our language. You seem to know it well.”

  Talon shrugged depreciatingly. “I spent some time in Constantinople. I count it to have been a privilege and an honor to have served the emperor.”

  Boethius frowned. “I assume you are talking about the late departed Emperor Manuel, Talon?” His eyes were abruptly wary.

  “Indeed I am,” Talon responded, noting the tone and the look. “Who else would I be referring to, may I ask?”

  Boethius relaxed visibly. “Ah, I should have known, pardon me. One has to be careful these days. I also wonder for how much longer my city will be as you just described it,” he said in an enigmatic voice.

  Talon looked hard at Boethius and asked, “That is the reason I came today. All does not appear to be well in this city. I had hoped to be able to stay a while, as some of my men are recovering from illness. However, everywhere I go there is suspicion and... unease. I cannot put my finger on it. Perhaps you could enlighten me?”

  Boethius nodded and said, “Perhaps I can, and perhaps I should, because no one is safe any more, not even visitors like yourself. I will explain. First refreshments, for you and your companions. ” He called for wine, and when it had been delivered by the silent servants he told them to leave and shut the doors behind them.

  They sipped the wine from silver cups in silence for a few moments. Talon nodded his head in appreciation. “You have good wine, too, Boethius. Again, my compliments.”

  “It is grown on the plains of Nicosia on the western slopes of the Trudos mountains, which begin right on our back door here in Paphos,” Boethius remarked, then he leaned forward and began to speak in a very serious voice.

  “You have clearly not heard the news about this island, Sir Talon, but it is a woeful story I must tell you. I am beginning to distrust even my own servants and doubt very much that I shall be living here by the end of this horrible year. I plan to seek another home.”

  He took a reflective sip of his wine and smiled ruefully at Talon’s startled expression. Then he stared out of the window, as though thinking about what he should say next. He pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, closing his eyes as he did so. His already lined face betrayed fatigue and worry. Finally he looked up.

  “You perhaps know a little of our people, Sir Talon, having lived in Constantinople for a while. Truly we had a great empire under John, and even Manuel didn’t do too much damage, despite his
unwise expedition to Myriokephalon.”

  “I was there on that expedition, both Max and I were at the battle.” Talon interjected.

  “Then I do not need to labor that point,” said Boethius, and he shot Talon a look of respect. “You survived, which in itself is remarkable. But what you perhaps do not know is that when Manuel died, disaster, no horror, was visited upon our country. His son should have inherited with his mother as regent. Instead they were murdered, most cruelly put to death, and we are now ruled by Andronikos Komnenos; or rather, the mainland is ruled by that awful man.

  Here in Cyprus we are now under the yoke of his unsavory great nephew, Isaac Komnenos, who is also an unspeakable barbarian. He arrived on the island this very year, around May, with an army of mercenaries. Since then he has assumed command of all the cities and ports, declaring himself emperor of the island. We in Paphos have already had a taste of his... benevolence.”

  Boethius sighed. “He is plundering his own ‘empire’, Sir Talon, and has already beggared many a rich merchant and despoiled many an aristocratic maiden since he arrived.”

  Talon was aghast. “So Cyprus is ruled by yet another Greek tyrant! I had thought it to be a good, safe place to live, which is why I came here!”

  Boethius gave him a bitter smile. “Then you are sadly mistaken, Sir Talon. My advice is for you to leave while you can and find a better kingdom in which to settle. Isaac has been here in Paphos once, and that was devastating enough for some of the rich merchants who lived here. How I escaped his attentions I do not know, but I do not intend to remain to test my luck a second time.”

  “Where does he spend most of his time, if not here at Paphos? Is this not the capital of the island?”

  “Not any more. Look to the north-west. The great mountains of Trudos prevents easy access to the plains, where other than trade, the wealth of Cyprus really lies. He spends most of his time now in Famagusta, where he has access to Larnaca, Nicosia and Kyrenia, and the northern coastal regions are rich pickings for him. It is very sad, Sir Talon. This was once a great, peaceful island, but now every would-be robber and mercenary is flocking to his banner like crows to carrion. I curse him and his name.” Boethius shot a nervous look at the door as he finished.

  They spent the next several hours talking about the recent events. “Those who opposed Isaac were executed without trial, while those who could fled to the dubious safety of the mainland. If my ship had been in port, we would not now be having this conversation, as I would have been gone,” Boethius informed them.

  Talon was reminded of the slovenly men who had lounged about on the quayside when he arrived. They had been insolent and unhelpful.

  Boethius also told Talon something quite interesting.

  “You do know that Salah Ed Din, that busy leader of the Arabs, has taken Aleppo? He is now the only real leader of the disparate and unruly tribes and petty kingdoms on the mainland.”

  Talon rubbed his eyes with the tips of his fingers in a tired gesture. “No, I had not heard, I have been otherwise preoccupied. It won’t be long before he makes another try for Jerusalem, I should imagine.”

  Boethius gave him a shrewd look and nodded agreement. “We live in difficult times. I cannot see them getting better, not for a long while.” He took another sip of wine before continuing.

  “What you might not know is that it is rumored Isaac is friendly with Salah Ed Din.” He smiled grimly as he watched the surprise flicker across Talon’s face. “But there is more, and this is much more dangerous for those of us in Cyprus. He is friendly with the Norman, King William the Second of Sicily, who, although he is a man of indeterminate character, has ambitions. He wants to take the emperor’s throne in Constantinople!”

  “This ensures that Isaac cannot easily be unseated by Andronikos,” Talon observed after he had overcome his surprise. He had heard about King William from Lord Ibelin and Tiberius, who had informed him that the King of Sicily was becoming ambitious.

  “Precisely,” Boethius agreed. “As long as Isaac remains here in Cyprus, Andronikos will not bother him, although he must be as angry as a nest of hornets. The loss of the revenue which used to come from this island is not insignificant.”

  It was a very thoughtful little group that made its way back to the villa near to the harbor that afternoon. When they arrived, Talon immediately called a council with his captains, Henry and Guy, and brought Max into the discussion. With his hair cut and beard trimmed, and having had a long bath, Max was beginning to look a lot better although he still looked emaciated. The ravages of his imprisonment were also etched deeply into his features. Rav’an and Jannat were also there, as were his small group of warriors.

  Talon wanted everyone to know the facts of their situation. The truth was that he was unsure of where they could go next. His whole plan had rested upon a safe refuge in Cyprus, but with the ominous news of a tyrant running the island this no longer seemed like a practical idea.

  He repeated all that he had heard from Boethius and then said, “The reason we came here is because I had made plans years ago to live on this island, which is why I’d asked Max to purchase land and find me a secure abode where we could know peace and anonymity.” He paused to collect his thoughts. “This is no longer the case, and we have to rethink our future. I do not know at this time if Cyprus is where we can stay.”

  There followed a heated discussion in three different languages. He listened carefully to everything that was said. Some were for going back to Oman and then off to China; some were for going back to Palestine—but not many. Talon liked the idea of China, but he said, “In the first instance we will not have our former ship to sail anywhere. Before very long Ahmed will arrive in Elat and he will not waste any time. He will sail our ship back down the Red sea to Oman and we will find ourselves stranded in Elat and out of options. Perilously close to Egypt and perhaps at the mercy of the Beduin of the Sinai. They are not kind people.”

  “There is always Spain,” Reza said tentatively.

  Talon nodded. “Perhaps, but it is a very long sea voyage from here, and unlike our great ship, in these small vessels it would be perilous. Autumn is just around the corner and the Middle Sea can be dangerous at this time of year. If we had our Baghran it might be an option,” he said, referring to his Omani ship, which made the galleys look small by comparison.

  Henry and Guy looked indignant, but Talon smiled and said, “You two would be awed by the size of the ships we have seen and sailed in, my friends. Remind me to tell you about them one day.”

  Max spoke up then. “I have done a lot of thinking recently, Talon,” he said.

  “You of all people have had the time to so,” Talon quipped.

  Henry and Guy laughed, but it was sympathetic. “What do you have in mind, Max?” Henry asked. His own worry creases between his eyes were deeper than ever.

  Max looked uncomfortable but he pressed on. “Long ago you told me of the legend of one of your Aghas fellows. I can’t remember his name, but he did something very clever.”

  Talon stared at Max. “What did he just say?” Reza demanded.

  “He just reminded me of Hasan e Sabah!”

  “What does he know about the Master?” Reza asked, his tone skeptical.

  “I know what he is going to say!” Rav’an interjected with some excitement.

  “All right, Max, tell us what you are thinking,” Talon sighed, with a smile at his wife.

  “Did this Master not trick his way into a castle once?”

  Talon slapped his side with amusement, then he translated for the benefit of the others, who looked astonished. Rav’an laughed with delight at having been right; her gray eyes, which had been very worried, now sparkled.

  “What is he talking about?” Reza demanded. “A castle? Your friend Max has lost his mind, he’s been in prison so long, Talon.”

  “Let him finish, Reza!” Jannat said impatiently. Reza subsided.

  “Well, Max? There are several castles on this island.
Which one should we take for ourselves?” Talon smiled at his friend.

  “While you were gallivanting all over the world, I was doing what you asked of me, Talon,” Max said a little stiffly. “I went all over this island, and I bought the land with the sugar cane. By the way, we have to discover whether it is still ours, and if it is still producing. I was also a visitor at a castle, north of this island, that is in a state of disrepair. The owner is a wealthy senator from Constantinople who might want to leave the island. Indeed, he probably has already. You should at least consider the option of having a castle here in Cyprus, where they do not know you, as opposed to somewhere else where there is a Latin church, where they might in time discover who you are, and then your problems will start all over again.”

  It was a long speech for Max and left him tired. Jannat, who had taken a liking to Max, reached for a beaker of water and handed it to him. He smiled at her and drank gratefully in the silence that followed the translation Talon offered his friends.

  After a long pause, Talon gave a rueful shake of his head. “I certainly had not considered this option, Max.” He turned to his friends. “What do you think?”

  Reza shrugged and said, “We can at least go and look at it.”

  “Do people buy castles?” Rav’an asked, with an amused look at Talon.

  “We have enough treasure to buy six castles if Talon and Reza wanted to,” Jannat said sounding smug.

  Neither Yosef or Dar’an had anything to add, but their looks told Talon that they would support him either way.

  “What do you think, Henry, Guy?” Talon asked.

 

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