‘I fear so. We have not witnessed the end of this city’s siege, but merely of the first wave. And what is coming will be cataclysmic, as you so cleverly predicted. Byzantium teeters on the very edge of Hell.’
Chapter 16: The Kindled Flame
December 30th 1203
Undoubtedly the Crusaders and their Venetian friends saw no change in the city languishing across the water over the following days. As the Franks in their camp settled in for three weeks of celebrations, beginning with the Yuletide Christ Mass and leading up to the end of their year, they likely thought the same would happen in Constantinople. Arnau had assumed so too. But the Franks and Venetians remained across the water, looking only at the unchanging walls and not the troubled city behind them.
Christ Mass was a muted affair in the city. Arnau attended the services, of course, and the city did celebrate, though it seemed that the holy day was of lesser importance to the Byzantines than Epiphany, which was the real time for celebration. Moreover, the Byzantines began their new year in September, rather than in January like the Franks.
So while the Franks and Venetians revelled in their festivities in Galata, living a lavish life with rich goods bought with Byzantine gold from the many smaller towns in the region, the population of the city celebrated quietly and swiftly and prepared for the worst.
Needless to say, when Bochard had returned from his day’s work, he had flatly refused to be involved in integrating the Order within the Byzantine world, when in his opinion it was just a matter of weeks before the forces of Rome controlled the city once more and the Order would have the opportunity to gain lands without sacrificing their sanctity by ‘dealing with heretics’. He had visited the emperor and, though Arnau and Ramon had not been there, clearly the audience had gone particularly sourly from the look on Bochard’s face when he returned. Still, Ramon had taken it upon himself to write a letter with the emperor’s offer and privately see it onto a fast dromon – one of the few remaining from the ruined Byzantine fleet – bound for Acre. He had little hope of a reply coming in time to do anything, but still he had to try.
Arnau and Ramon, ignoring their preceptor as he rushed to acquire all he could before war made it impossible, watched the city change in small, subtle ways. The first was the closing of gates. One thing that had been manifest since the change in emperors and the nervous peace with the Crusaders was that the gates remained accessible. Even when the troubles had started, at least the Blachernae Gate had opened freely at the command of any Frank or Venetian. Now the city had been sealed. Since no Frank came, they could not know, but already many of the gates had been bolstered and blocked.
Secondly, every Western cross, Frankish flag and symbol of the Crusaders had been removed from Constantinople. Arnau was fairly sure that the Templars were now the only Westerners in the entire city. The emperors had drawn their line. No matter that young Alexios had arrived as a puppet of the Franks and his father was blind and considered half mad, both stood by their empire now, refusing to capitulate and bleed their city any further for the benefit of avaricious foreigners. Of course, they were also well aware of the danger they faced, and in the absence of any deal with the Temple, overtures had been sent to the Seljuk Turks and the Tsar of Bulgaria. And while they prepared the city for disaster, there was no sign of any attempt to take the war to the Franks.
In the city, the Western Church had been denied once more. The churches of Constantinople rang out in Greek voices singing hymns of heresy, and cross pieces had been added to the Western crucifixes, returning them to their former pattern. The city had reverted, casting aside all that had been imposed on them in the unacceptable deal.
So Constantinople prepared and waited, watching the enemy revelling. The court sat tense, waiting for word from Acre or Bulgaria or the Turks. Any one of them might be enough to make the Franks think twice. But time would be tight. No word came.
Arnau stood at the window of his apartment, peering out at the distant hilltop where months ago the Franks had camped, lobbing stones at this very wall. Ramon lay on his bed murmuring almost-silent prayers, and Sebastian sat in the corner, polishing armour.
A knock at the door turned all three heads, and Ramon bade the caller enter. As the door swung open, Arnau was surprised to see the figure of Theodoros Laskaris. Neither he nor his brother had been visible much in court circles since the day of capitulation five months ago, yet suddenly there was a gleam in the eye of the former general. Behind him stood two men in the uniforms of Byzantine officers and one man in the rich garb of a court official.
‘Brothers of the Temple, greetings.’
‘Laskaris,’ Ramon nodded. ‘It has been a while.’
‘It has, and my apologies for our absence. As you are undoubtedly aware, we opposed any deal being struck with the Franks, and time has borne out our view, I believe. Here we are near half a year later facing the same situation, but with little in terms of money or support, having seen it all leeched out by the enemy. And our emperors flounder. Neither is willing to do what must be done to defy the enemy. They do not believe we can win any engagement, so they send out desperate pleas to our neighbours for support. But stout hearts remain, and this city’s walls have held for a millennium. We will see off the Franks if only we can commit fully to facing them.’
Arnau nodded. ‘But the emperors will not sanction such a thing.’
Laskaris folded his arms. ‘We intend to give them no choice. The Franks and Venetians will besiege us once again in less than two weeks, when their new year is upon them. If we do nothing before then, they will have all the initiative and advantage. We must take our chance now.’
Ramon sat up on the edge of his bed. ‘Why come to us?’
‘Courtesy,’ Laskaris said simply. ‘We have fought side by side and you proved yourselves honourable men. I have no wish to see you caught up in what is coming. When we move tomorrow, and we will move tomorrow, then war will be upon us once more, and this time it will only end in destruction for someone. I advise you to leave Constantinople before nightfall tomorrow, else leaving may no longer be an option.’
Arnau glanced sharply at Ramon, who shook his head. ‘Our preceptor will not allow us to leave.’
‘Then you will become part of this great tragedy,’ Laskaris warned.
‘What is it you are planning?’ Arnau asked.
Laskaris paused, perhaps weighing up the danger of revealing plans to the outsiders.
‘A two-pronged attack,’ Theodoros said, glancing over his shoulder. The men behind him nodded. ‘Already Constantine gathers his forces and my men gather the equipment. It is clear that any move, if is to be decisive, must target both the Franks and the Venetians simultaneously.’
‘How will you attack the Venetians?’ Ramon frowned. ‘Their navy is strong, and yours is all but non-existent.’
Laskaris smiled unpleasantly. ‘With fire. We have the bulk of the military commanders on our side. They will follow Constantine. He will lead the army around the upper Horn and against the Franks. Already our forces gather outside the city, unknown to the enemy and even the court. It must come as a surprise. They will begin marching early in the morning on the first, with a view to reaching the enemy camp at dawn.’
Arnau nodded. A good plan.
‘In the meanwhile, I have given orders to seize every boat and ship in the city and port them, if necessary, to the Neorion harbour. There they will be filled with kindling and pig fat which we have already begun procuring. Jars of pitch and Greek fire will make them floating explosives. You may have noticed over the last two days a shift in the winds. It is not uncommon at this time of year. A southerly wind that rips along the valleys in the city into the Golden Horn and across to Galata. It is not something that happens throughout the year but on such odd occasions makes sailing north unusually easy. The fleet will be sent out at midnight.’
‘Fire ships,’ Ramon breathed.
‘Quite so.’
‘It is the most appalli
ng method of waging war.’
Laskaris shrugged. ‘There I fear our worlds differ. Fire has long been the chosen weapon of the empire. No imperial mind would shy from such a thing, whereas the lack of diplomatic respect that seems to be second nature to the Franks is unthinkable in our court.’
‘Your timing is out,’ Arnau noted. ‘The fleet will engage in the small hours and that will all be over before your army reaches the Crusaders.’
‘I am counting on that,’ Laskaris said with a malicious grin. ‘The Venetian fleet will burn throughout the hours of darkness. The disaster will wake the entire enemy force. With luck the Franks will rush to help their Venetian allies. If not, they will at least be kept awake. Our army will have slept well and rested for a day before the attack and will have marched only four miles to engage, while their entire army should be exhausted, soot-stained and demoralised. If all goes well, by sundown on the first, the Venetian fleet will be destroyed and the Franks resoundingly beaten.’
‘You are defying the emperors,’ Ramon noted. ‘Doukas has told us some of the consequences of that.’
‘Unless we win. If we save Constantinopolis in the name of the emperors, they will look favourably upon us. Success breeds success.’
Arnau looked across at Ramon. ‘It has the makings of a workable plan.’
Ramon nodded. ‘It is ambitious.’
‘At this stage nothing humble will suffice,’ Laskaris said quietly.
‘True.’
Laskaris straightened. ‘I would ask you to keep this to yourselves until the time comes, but I still urge you to leave, whether you go with your master or not. If this succeeds, then your preceptor’s easy acquisitions will end and he will have no business here. If it fails, you will not want to be in the city.’
‘Thank you for the warning,’ Ramon said. ‘It will all unfold as God wills it.’
‘For certain.’
With a polite nod of the head, Laskaris turned and left, taking his small cadre of officers with him. The door clicked shut, and Ramon turned to Arnau and Sebastian. ‘It is a very good plan, and if it succeeds, it will almost certainly put the city in the ascendant and make the Crusaders beg for terms. But there are many things that can go wrong, and he is correct that if that happens this city will be the most dangerous place to be in the world. As such, I think we have decisions to make.’
‘We do?’
‘I will not break the Rule of the Order. I cannot leave as long as Bochard intends to remain. I will state here and now, though, that the very moment he breaks the Rule himself, I shall consider myself freed of his authority and shall act accordingly to save whoever I can. Vallbona, you are a brother of the Order. As such I would humbly submit that the same strictures apply to you, though your soul and your conscience are your own, and I will not stop you if you wish to leave.’ He turned to Sebastian. ‘You are my squire and a friend, and an associate of the Order. I have come to rely upon you, and wish to see you preserved. I hereby release you from any vow or command. You are free to choose your destiny. If you wish to leave before your city teeters on the edge of destruction, I will help you. If you wish to stay, that is your choice.’
He fell silent and folded his arms.
Arnau felt torn. The Order had become everything to him in his five years of service: a home, a family and a future. And any early misgivings he might have had were long since cast to the wind as he took the vows of full brotherhood. He swallowed a resigned swallow and shook his head. Being a brother of the Poor Knights meant following all the rules. Obedience was no less important than any other, and more so than many. If Ramon would not go until the preceptor either commanded it or broke the Rule and proved himself unworthy, then neither could Arnau.
‘I am with you.’
They turned to Sebastian, who had paused, polishing rag held close to the steel. ‘No,’ the young man said, ‘I will not leave. I will hold my sword and stand fast and push two feet of iron into the gut of any Frank who thinks to end my people.’
Ramon took a deep breath. ‘We are agreed, then. I will not see Bochard, nor tell him what has transpired. He is far too fond of his Frankish friends, and I fear he would consider it his duty to warn them. Moreover, if we visit Bochard he will command us to remain uninvolved, and I have a mind to watch Venetian ships burn.’
Arnau nodded vigorously. That was a sight he would relish for sure.
The evening passed at a crawl. As they had since the city’s churches had returned to their Greek traditions, the two knights went through the liturgical services appropriately in the privacy of their apartments. Sebastian, instead, continued to visit the Blachernae church for the Greek services and Ramon did nothing to stop him.
Their visitor that night came as the most unpleasant surprise. Ramon answered the door to a quiet knock, presuming it to be one of the many palace functionaries or perhaps Laskaris with an update on his plan, or even Doukas with new information to impart. Instead, the older knight backed away from the door, hands coming up in a pose of surrender. Arnau rose sharply from his bed, hand going to sword hilt until Ramon barked at him to desist. The two men stood, frozen, as four green-clad men-at-arms entered, fanning out around the room, small, light crossbows already loaded, aimed at the two Templars. One itchy finger would mean a painful, lingering death. The two knights retreated against the wall.
It came as no further surprise when Almerico Balbi appeared in the door, wearing his Morningstar smile.
‘Please, gentlemen, do take a seat. I will not take up much of your time.’
As Arnau and Ramon sank slowly to the beds, Balbi plonked himself down in a chair opposite them as a fifth man-at-arms closed the door to grant them privacy.
‘You will forgive the manner of my arrival, I am sure. The streets of Constantinople are unsafe for a God-fearing Roman these days, and the palace no less so.’
‘You may lower your bows, Balbi. I give you my word our swords will remain sheathed.’
‘My, my. A Templar’s word. A valuable thing, I’m sure. Let me come to the business at hand. I had initially considered you peripheral at best to my work here. Bochard is useful and lucrative in many, many ways, while you were merely his muscle. Upon further investigation it appears that you yourselves took an active part in the defence of the city walls against my countrymen. Some Venetians might take offence at that. I am more… flexible, let’s say. Then it seems, from what de Charney tells me, that you have been prying into Bochard’s affairs more than one might expect from hired muscle. Then, most recently and most interestingly of all, I am informed that you receive visits from the finance minister and even the city’s most rebellious generals. What am I to make of all of this?’
Ramon’s expression remained unreadable. ‘We simply bide our time and survive as best we can in this dreadful world where an army of the Pope attacks a city of God.’
Balbi gave a deep laugh. ‘I have always found the monochrome thinking of monks to be exasperating. The world is built upon many layers, my friend, not just a black and a white.’
‘What do you want, Balbi?’
‘I am a lover of expediency, Templar. The deals I strike with Bochard and his crusading friends aid them and will make the house of Balbi wealthy enough to become pre-eminent among the families of Venezia. I do not like unknown quantities, and you represent just that. I fear that you are averse to your master’s work here, but are too bound to him to leave. My offer is simple. I will secure for you from the preceptor permission to depart, and I will grant you free passage to a port of your choice on one of my own vessels. Your only part in this is to agree to leave without further incident.’
Arnau frowned. ‘We present such a danger to you that you will whisk us away for free?’
Balbi’s smile slipped for just a moment.
‘I am a businessman, Templar. Sometimes one can make the greatest profit with an initial outlay. In the end it can be more lucrative. But rest assured that I am equally capable of threats. I would rather we
resolved this swiftly and simply without the need for unpleasantness. I will have a place kept on my next departure until New Year. You may take it at any time. Beyond New Year, I cannot speak for your safety. You know what is coming.’
With that, he slowly rose from the seat. ‘Again, apologies for the interruption. I pray you have a good night.’
Arnau sat, teeth grinding, as the Venetian left, still with that Luciferian smile, his men retreating after him, weapons still trained on the pair until the door closed.
‘I have half a mind to follow them and make them regret that,’ he grunted.
‘Personally, I rather favour burning their ships to ash,’ snarled Ramon.
‘The bastard. Who does he think he is?’
Ramon turned. ‘I thought you were still desperate for us to leave? Here Balbi is offering you that very chance.’
‘I find suddenly that on having the door opened by Balbi, I am looking for the tripwire. No.’
‘And Balbi will not back down,’ Ramon sighed. ‘His sort are driven by greed. You heard him. Lucrative deals with Bochard.’
Arnau nodded. ‘Balbi’s ships carry Bochard’s treasures away. I would be willing to wager that a number of priceless items are diverted on the journey to a treasury in Venice. Balbi is becoming rich on Bochard’s mania.’
‘I wonder how many of Balbi’s ships we can burn on the morrow?’ Ramon smiled nastily.
* * *
The following day Arnau and Ramon, with their usual Waring escort, toured what they could of the city, without descending from the safety of the walls. Trying not to spend too long lingering on the sight of the scarred, burned-out parts of the city, they watched the Byzantines’ quiet, subtle preparations throughout the day. In addition to keeping their plans secret from the enemy, the two brothers had done what they could to hide them from the emperors who might decide to halt them in their tracks.
Ships were being readied in the Neorion but at such a slow pace that it would not attract undue attention, the loads not being revealed for what they were until they were aboard, when they were distributed to be ready. Seventeen large vessels and sundry small boats were being prepared. If aimed correctly, they should be enough to ignite the entire Venetian fleet. Moreover, as the two knights had stepped out in the morning, they had witnessed Laskaris’s predictions coming true. The southerly wind blew so strongly with wintry chill that ash and brick dust was being gusted through the burned-out parts of the city and settling on the waters even now, months after the fires. All seemed in order.
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