Assassins of Kantara

by James Boschert

  He looked over at Reza who grinned and remarked, “He did raise the alarm, Brother.”

  “He could have burned us all to the ground,” Talon muttered, but he was very relieved that Rostam was not badly hurt.

  “Now is probably a good time to go downstairs and explain everything to your mother, although how you will manage that I have no idea,” he told his son, with a gentle push to get the boy moving. “I shall deal with you later.”

  “Reza, we appear to have visitors,” he told his grinning brother. “Will you stop laughing like a hyena?”

  With the help of some men they cleaned up the roof and made it safe before going downstairs to encounter the confusion reigning below.

  “What have you done to my son?” Rav’an demanded as soon as she set eyes on Talon and Reza. “He looks like you dropped him down a chimney head first! He is burned black all over! ”

  “He managed to do that all on his own!” Talon responded, trying not to sound defensive.

  “Why are you grinning like one of those tree apes, Reza?” she snapped at him.

  “I er, I er, I have to be in the barbican,” Reza mumbled and hurriedly left Talon to face an irate Rav’an and an amused Jannat.

  “Reza is still laughing, damn his eyes!” Talon glowered after him. “Did Rostam not tell you what happened, then?”

  Jannat snorted with amusement. Talon scowled at her; this was turning into a farce!

  “He muttered something about the rockets going off, but then there were tears and he ran off to his chamber. The door is locked and no one can get to him. The cat was our first warning that something was up. It ran through this room as though the hounds of hell were on its tail!”

  “I’ll try to persuade him to come out again soon,” Jannat said, putting her hand over her mouth and giving a snort as she left. Talon could have sworn she was shaking. Rav’an, however, was tapping her foot, always a bad sign.

  “There had better be a good explanation for this, Talon. Our boy looked terrible. If you are playing with that powder around him then... ”

  Talon spent the next ten minutes explaining what he thought might have happened. He couldn’t control a twitch of his lips by the end of it. Even Rav’an was smiling, now that the crisis seemed to be over.

  “Well, thank God he didn’t get too badly hurt.”

  “Just his pride, I suspect. Now, my Love, I have to go and prepare for a visitor. There really was a ship coming in. Guy noticed the alarm and went out to meet it. The system works, but needs some fine tuning.”

  “Are you going to punish him?”

  Talon tried to look stern. “It’s tempting. There was a lot of damage. He nearly accomplished single-handedly what the emperor failed to do. Should I flog him within an inch of his life or just throw him off the battlements?”

  “Now who’s not being serious? But you said that he did raise the alarm, so in one way he did the right thing.” She gave him an arch look out of the corner of her eyes.

  Talon shook his head and chuckled. “I know, he did. We will have to have a talk about that and then... some training, perhaps.”

  “That boy is not allowed anywhere near those infernal devices of yours until I say so,” she snapped, her lips tightening with resolve.

  “Then how am I to train him not to destroy the castle the next time?” he countered with a grin as he kissed her on the cheek, then he went off to find Palladius, thankful that it had not been worse.

  Talon was standing on the parapet of the main gate tower with his hounds nearby when the small train of travelers arrived. From here he was able to observe the people on horseback. Max, who was with him, looked him up and down disapprovingly.

  “Do you not know it is good manners for the Lord of the castle to look more um... lordly when we have visitors, Talon? What on earth happened up there on the bailey? Most people down here being of the superstitious sort, myself included, thought the Devil had popped in to pay you a visit.”

  “Rostam needs a little more training with the alarm rockets,” Talon told him, brushing down his coat, which made not the slightest improvement. It was burned, rent in places and smeared with black soot. He shrugged mentally; too late to change now.

  Max waved and called down. “Giorgios! What are you doing here?”

  Then Talon recognized the merchant. “So it is! Hey, Giorgios!” He called down. “But who is that with him?” he murmured to Max, who shrugged.

  “I imagine that Giorgios will tell us,” he said. “Come, perhaps he has news of Constantinople. He was going there the last time Henry and I saw him in Paphos.”

  They hurried down the stone steps, chased by the excited hounds, to emerge in the yard just as the riders were admitted to the castle by Palladius and his gatekeepers. Talon and Max, and now Reza, who looked as disheveled as Talon, stood off to the side with the dogs as the riders were ushered into the barbican. At a signal from Palladius, guards ran out to hold their horses.

  There were only four people, one of them a very young boy. Giorgios led the group; behind him was a woman with a veil covering her face, but some loose curls of reddish hair had escaped the veil. Behind her and holding the pony upon which the boy was perched was a rough looking man; Talon assumed he was one of Giorgios’s sailors.

  Giorgios dismounted with evident relief and addressed the others. “We have arrived, my Lady. You will be safe here.”

  The lady was looking around the barbican, and despite the veil Talon had the impression that it was with some interest.

  What Theodora saw were three men, one of whom dressed like a Frankish knight, who despite looking somewhat familiar wasn’t Talon; the other two looked as though they had just come from cleaning a fireplace. Two large hounds were standing close by one of them. She automatically assumed these were servants and the knight’s hounds. Odd for a reception committee, she thought. The next words of Giorgios startled her.

  “My Lord, Sir Talon, I wish to present Lady Theodora Kalothesos from Constantinople.”

  Theodora was very surprised. She turned back to the three men standing in front of her and stared. Then she began to dismount, and the tall man hurried forward to assist her.

  “I can manage, thank you,” Theodora said in a pleasant manner and then removed her veil. Talon stood back a pace with a frown on his face. He most certainly didn’t recognize this very attractive woman standing in front of him.

  “Do you not recognize me, Sir Talon? Or is it my Lord Talon now?” her eyes twinkled, but they were inspecting him too.

  Talon shook his head in a bemused gesture. “Indeed my Lady, I did not! Are you really so changed, Theodora?” he asked her. “You have become a... a beautiful woman,” he finished as gallantly as he could.

  “I didn’t recognize you either Talon, you look a little um... although now of course I do,” she hurried on. “Well, as you can see, I’ve grown up and I have a child and... here I am.” There was an awkward pause.

  “Er, Theo... Theodora it is good to see you,” Talon almost stammered. He glanced down at his patched and scruffy overcoat, with black streaks across it, and even worse-looking boots that were charred in places. Of course she couldn’t have recognized him. He looked more like a stable hand than the lord of a castle. He self-consciously tried to brush off the soot from his coat.

  Max laughed next to him. “You have rendered Talon speechless, my Lady Theodora. It will pass, but it isn’t often that happens. Welcome to our castle, my Lady. We are right glad to see you safe.”

  “Max!” she said with pleasure in her voice. “So it was you I recognized. It is so good to see you after all this time.” Theo smiled as she offered her hand. Max blushed bright red and bowed his pepper and salt beard over her hand. “Deeply honored to meet with you again, my Lady. Please excuse my friends, they were just putting out a fire on the roof. It is a long story and can wait.”

  Talon scowled at Max and then dragged Reza forward by his sleeve. “This is my ‘Brother’ Reza,” he told her. “Speak
Greek slowly to him as he is still learning, but he is my most trusted comrade, besides Max. Max is right, my Lady. You are safe here and we all bid you welcome.”

  Reza smiled, his teeth showing very white against his dark features, and gave her an elaborate bow, taking her hand and passing his lips over its smooth white skin. Theo smiled.

  “I am glad to meet you, Reza. I am sure we will have much to talk about, including how you and Talon met,” she said with a glance Talon’s way. Then she turned to the pony where her son still sat taking in the meeting with wide eyes. “This is my son Damian,” she said.

  Talon noted that the boy was very young. He had gray eyes, which were wide with interest and not a little apprehension. A light cool wind ruffled his reddish hair, just like that of his mother, Talon noted. So Theodora had married and had a son from the union. Had time passed so quickly, he wondered, since the visit to Constantinople, where he knew her as a rather alarming girl of fourteen? Now here she was, a mature and poised young woman.

  He strode up to the pony, lifted the boy down and gave him a gentle push so the boy ran to stand with his mother, where he hid in her long skirts as he looked up at these strangers. Theo placed a gentle hand on his head and ruffled his hair.

  “I would be lying if I said this was not a surprise, my Lady,” Talon said.

  “Please call me Theo,” she replied. “All of you. I am no longer a lady, but a woman who seeks refuge. All the rest of my family are dead, including his father.” She indicated the boy pressed against her skirts.

  Talon’s mouth tightened at the news, while Max and Reza looked concerned. “Henry and Max told me of their meeting with Giorgios,” Talon told her slowly. “We have also more recently heard terrible rumors of the events in Constantinople, the sacking of Thessalonica by the Franks from Sicily, and the defeat of the Greek armies. We have all been very worried, Theo. We had no idea how bad it was for you and your family. God be praised you escaped, with the help, it seems, of our friend Giorgios here.” He smiled at her, then he realized that he was keeping everyone waiting. “But I am not being a good host at all! Please come with me and we will make you comfortable and you can meet my family.”

  He offered her his arm and they walked the short distance to the gate of the barbican that led to the main yard and the bailey. “What have you been doing, Talon,” she murmured. “You smell like you really have been in a fire. Or is it brimstone? I am beginning to believe the wild stories Giorgios told me about you.”

  He chuckled. “Wait until you meet my son. He tried to set the bailey on fire. Did you see the rockets in the sky?”

  “Yes! So that was an alarm system? I am very impressed, Talon. Giorgios pointed them out to me from the ship as we were coming in. No one knew what it meant and all were afraid.”

  “My son, Rostam, was a trifle eager,” Talon said, his tone dry.

  The castle yard was busy, the sound of hammering on iron down by the stables and the calls of servants who stopped what they were doing briefly to stare, then resumed their tasks after the small entourage had passed. Talon led the way towards the large entrance of the bailey, where they were met by one of the stewards who whispered something to Talon.

  He turned to Theodora. “My wife is pregnant in her eighth month, and I hope you will excuse her not being able to greet us at the door. We will go upstairs to the summer rooms where she and her companion await us.”

  Theodora smiled. “What is your wife’s name?”

  “Rav’an,” he told her and she nodded. “So this is the woman you had to find? God is sometimes kind; you are united.”

  Talon smiled at her. “Indeed.”

  Leaving Max to entertain Giorgios, they climbed the stairs and walked down a long corridor towards the sound of low voices. Talon pulled aside the leather curtain and ushered Theodora into a wide spacious room filled with an assortment of low tables, cushions and carpets. The air smelled fresh here, as the shutters were thrown open to let in the light breeze from outside.

  “Rav’an, Jannat, we have a visitor. Her name is Theodora and she has come from Constantinople,” he said to the two extraordinarily beautiful women seated on piles of cushions near to the window.

  The slightly older woman of the two, with large gray eyes and black lustrous hair, smiled and said in halting Greek, “Forgive me, Lady Theodora, for not rising. I am, as you see, somewhat indisposed. This,” she waved to her companion, “is Jannat, the wife of Reza, whom I think you have already met,” she laughed. “We are both with child, as you can see.”

  Theodora could not help it, she smiled back. “I am honored to meet you, Rav’an and Jannat. I hope you will forgive me for this unexpected visit but I... I had nowhere else to go,” her voice became soft with grief and she dipped her head, trying to stop the tears of fatigue and worry from overwhelming her.

  Rav’an said urgently, “Talon, what are you doing keeping her standing there? Bring her over here and let her sit with us. We will look after her, but call one of the maids and tell them to bring refreshments. Is she ill?” Rav’an spoke Greek out of politeness to her guest.

  Theodora raised her head and smiled at her. Dashing the tears away she said, “No, there is nothing wrong with me, except I am suddenly very tired. I am a physician, so I know I don’t need one; it’s just relief to be somewhere safe at last.”

  Rav’an and Jannat exchanged startled glances. “Come over here and sit with us, Theodora,” Jannat spoke for the first time. “Is this your child?” she asked.

  Theodora nodded and brought Damian with her as she seated herself opposite the two women. “Please call me Theo. He is indeed my son, his name is Damian; he is four years old.”

  Jannat looked over at Reza and Talon who were hovering by the door. “My Reza,” she said in Farsi, “Why are you still standing about? Did not Rav’an ask one of you to call a servant? Our guest is very tired. Where is her husband?”

  “Er yes,” Reza said and ducked his head. “I’ll go at once and find someone.” He disappeared.

  “I think her husband is dead, Jannat,” Talon said in a low tone.

  Jannat gave him a sharp look, as did Rav’an. “There are many things we need to know here,” Rav’an remarked in Farsi.

  She called over to another person in the back of the room. “Rostam, come here and be introduced.”

  Rostam, somewhat cleaner and in new clothes, shuffled out of the gloom into the sunlight. He was clearly embarrassed and his eyes were downcast. Jannat had done her best to clean his hands and face, but the results of the fire were still evident on his forehead, which was speckled with spark damage, while his hair showed signs of having been scorched in patches.

  “This is our son,” Rav’an told Theodora in a dry tone. “He was the one who gave us warning of your arrival.”

  Theodora looked up at the boy and smiled, then stared at his face critically. “I see you have been burned. Is anything painful?” she asked in slow Greek. Despite the slightly burned skin and the singed eyebrows, Theodora could see the resemblance immediately. Rostam shook his head, then looked up at his father. Talon placed a hand on his boy’s shoulder.

  “Nothing but his pride, I suspect,” he said with a grin. “But perhaps you could look him over just to make sure.”

  Servants bustled in and placed hot tea in front of them, and some baklava sweet cakes, grapes and apples on the table.

  “First you must eat, you are our guest and you are welcome,” Rav’an told her. “Tomorrow you can tell us all about your ordeal.” She sent Talon a warning look that told him to save his curiosity for the next day, and then gave instructions to the servants to prepare a room for Theodora.

  “Are we safe now, Mama?” Damian piped up.

  “Yes, my darling, we are safe now,” Theodora told him and smiled through her tears at all of them.

  Not where the wounded are,

  Not where the nations die,

  Killed in the cleanly game of war—

  That is no place for a spy
!

  O Princes, Thrones and Powers, your work is less than ours—

  Here is no place for a spy!

  —Rudyard Kipling

  Chapter 25

  A Clash of Spies

  “I wonder what he is doing here?” Isaac, Emperor of Cyprus, asked. It could have been rhetorical, as there was no one else in the bed chamber other than Tamura, and she was otherwise occupied, but he repeated the question.

  She stopped what she was doing and popped her head up to stare at her lord and master and smiled sweetly. “My Lord, I cannot answer your question and continue with what I was doing. Which is it to be?”

  He looked down at her and grunted, “All right continue, my honey patch.”

  She bent to her task, but it was no good. There was no life where there had only a moment ago been rampant enthusiasm.

  “Oh!” she exclaimed with some exasperation, “You have something else on your mind, my Lord. But it can wait,” she told him. This had been happening with more frequency of late. “No matter, what is it you are so concerned about?”

  He looked at her fondly as she came back into his arms. “That man Exazenos. You know, the Lord who arrived last week.”

  “Perhaps he is just passing through?” she suggested as she snuggled closer to the dark hairy royal chest.

  “Perhaps, but I don’t think so. My question is, why be here at all unless he is a fugitive? Uncle Andronikos is dead, we know of that. The ship that came in weeks ago confirmed it for fact. So if he is a fugitive, is he waiting for me to... give him a job?”

  “What do you know about him, Lord?”

  “Malakis told me that he has an extremely shadowy past. There are rumors layered upon rumors about this man. If even half of them are true then he was a very high-up official in Constantinople, even perhaps as high up as Andronikos’s right hand, and you know what that means.”

  She shifted uncomfortably, She knew Malakis, all right. He was a dangerous and brutal man who had a network of spies around the island feeding the emperor information. This man Exazenos sounded even more dangerous. That boded ill for everyone. “Then he is as bad as his former master and could bring bad luck upon us too, Lord.”