Jester Leaps In: A Medieval Mystery

by Alan Gordon

  “Why not?”

  “The Templars are set up along pilgrim routes to the Holy Land. We have a couple in Orsino. Constantinople was never one of their stops, because pilgrims usually go by sea once they reach Italy or Dalmatia. The Byzantines prey upon pilgrims, so they avoid Byzantium like the plague. I suppose he could have just retired here, but I thought it was an odd choice. The ones I’ve met generally retire near active Templar sites.”

  “You’re right, you’re right,” I said excitedly.

  “Why is this important?” she asked.

  “A year ago, Simon was running races,” I said. “Now, he walks with a limp.”

  “So, he hurt his leg,” she said.

  “Yes, but when? When I was bathing, after you had gone to see about the horses, he joined me. We compared notes about our scars.”

  “Men,” she shuddered.

  “He told me that his limp was the result of a spear thrust during the Crusades. But he couldn’t have been winning footraces a year ago if that was the case. So, he’s lying about how he got it.”

  “Why?”

  “Did you hear the one about the man who challenged a dwarf to a duel?”

  She looked at me, realization dawning.

  “How does it go?” she asked softly.

  “He was in over his head. The little bastard stabbed him in the leg.”

  “Niko,” she breathed. “It must have been. But we have no way of proving this. And how does it tie in to the plot to kill Alexios?”

  “It doesn’t,” I said triumphantly.

  “Now, you’ve really lost me. Why not?”

  “Because there never was a plot to kill Alexios. We’ve been chasing around after something that doesn’t exist and never has. That’s why we haven’t been followed.”

  “Wait a minute. If there’s no plot, why were all the fools killed?”

  “I didn’t say there wasn’t a plot. I said, there was never a plot to kill Alexios.”

  “But there is a plot?”

  “Yes.”

  “A plot worth killing that many people?”

  “Yes.”

  “And who is this plot against?”

  “The Emperor.”

  She stood there, fuming.

  “As someone once said, ‘That, that is, is,’ ” she said. “There is not a plot against Alexios, but there is a plot against the Emperor.”

  “Correct.”

  “I am thinking about plotting against you right now,” she said. “Alexios is the Emperor, is he not?”

  “Last time I checked.”

  “I give up. Exactly what are you talking about?”

  “What were Zintziphitzes’ words when he repeated the conversation he overheard?”

  She closed her eyes and summoned up the conversation. “ ‘This will be interesting. I’ve never killed an emperor before.’ ”

  “Very good. Think about that for a moment. Not the Emperor, an emperor.”

  “But that’s silly,” she protested. “How many emperors . . .” Then she stopped.

  I smiled at her, and she smiled back.

  “There are two emperors,” she said. “That that is, and that that was. The man who kills Isaakios will be killing an emperor. That’s what you’re talking about.”

  “Correct, my love. And I think that man is Simon. I don’t know if he’s acting for the Knights of the Temple, or if he’s working for someone else, but he’s in place, waiting.”

  “Waiting for what?”

  “Waiting for Isaakios to be moved to a place where Simon has access. The Varangians are still protective toward Isaakios despite their avowed loyalty to the current Emperor. There’s no way they would plot against him. So, arrangements had to be made to remove Isaakios from their hands. Only Alexios has been dragging his feet on that. He only made up his mind to do it today.”

  “But Isaakios is being moved into another prison. How does that make it any easier to get at him?”

  “Because the prison at the Anemas Garrison is controlled by the Imperial Guard. They owe Isaakios no loyalty.”

  Aglaia thought for a moment.

  “Zintziphitzes said the conversation came from Philoxenites’ box at the Hippodrome,” she said. “Philoxenites wasn’t there on the day it happened. Simon delivered wineskins to the games, so he could have met someone there easily. And if he was meeting an Imperial Guardsman in an empty box, nobody would suspect anything because the guards are supposed to be patrolling there.” She snapped her fingers. “When we first met Stanislaus, it was at the Rooster. Kind of a long way to go for a drink. We thought he was checking us out for Thalia.”

  “But first someone had to tell him we were there. And he knew about Asan’s death. I thought he had heard about it from Thalia, but maybe his source is Simon. Considering that he told her he was having me watched to see who was trying to kill me, and not only is there no one trying to kill me but no one else watching for anyone trying to kill me, then that was a lie. And since he’s been one of the people urging Alexios to transfer Isaakios to Anemas, that makes him a prime candidate for this conspiracy.”

  “Captain Stanislaus, the loyal soldier.”

  “He’s loyal, all right. But not to Constantinople.”

  “To whom, then?”

  “He came through with Frederick on the last Crusade. He came back here rather than go all the way home. I’m guessing he’s still working for the Swabians.”

  “Still, we have no proof. We have evidence of some lies, but nothing we can use to convince anyone.”

  “The only proof we can get is to catch them in the act and stop them.”

  She looked at me.

  “In order to catch them in the act, you are going to have to be with Isaakios,” she said.

  “Yes. I have some ideas on how to do that.”

  “I have a feeling I’m not going to be happy about any of them.”

  “Probably not, but if I’m right, we don’t have much time. Isaakios arrives at the garrison tomorrow.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “Go get Thalia.”

  “Why?” she asked indignantly. “What can she do that I cannot? And how can you trust her to do anything?”

  “I want to find out if I can trust her. If I can, then I can use her. Bring her to Father Esaias’s church. Use the password—don’t let her know you’re just an apprentice. Tell her it’s urgent, and make sure she doesn’t leave any word for Stanislaus.”

  “All right,” she said.

  “Viola?”

  “Yes, Feste?”

  “She carries four knives. Keep her hands in sight.”

  “All right.”

  I hurried down the river to Saint Stephen’s. It was late afternoon, and the penitents had yet to gather. Father Melchior was standing inside the entrance. He nodded when he saw me and motioned me toward the steps to the crypts.

  “I am expecting two of my colleagues to join us,” I informed him. “Two women.”

  “Very good, my son. I shall escort them down when they arrive. You are expected. Go right on in.”

  I went downstairs to the altar, knocked on the secret panel, and entered when it slid open. Father Theodore was standing just inside, sword in hand. He brought me to Father Esaias, who was sitting on a chair, sipping from a jeweled goblet. He beckoned me forward, and I knelt in front of him.

  “Greetings, my son,” he said. “How may I help you in your hour of need?”

  “O Ghostly Father,” I said. “Teach me that I may go to prison.”

  SEVENTEEN

  The voice I hear this passing night was heard

  In ancient days by emperor and down.

  KEATS, ODE TO A NIGHTINGALE

  I must confess that I have never received such a request,” Father Easias said. “Most of my flock consult me on how to escape from prisons.”

  “I have my reasons.”

  “A fool with reasons,” he said thoughtfully. “Well, basically there are two ways to go to prison
. You could say something nasty about someone important, but since you are now the Emperor’s Fool, you have license to ridicule both high and low. Or, more certainly, you could commit a crime and get caught.”

  “Let me clarify,” I said. “I need to get into a specific prison, perform a certain task, and then get out again.”

  “Which prison?”

  “The Tower of Anemas.”

  He sat back and folded his hands.

  “I may not be of much help to you here,” he said. “We stay out of Blachernae. We don’t want to rouse the sleeping giant. As long as they can wander their walled-off portion safely, they assume the rest of Constantinople is similarly crime-free.”

  “I see.”

  “It’s too bad you don’t want to go into the Praetorian prison. We have a lovely set-up there. The warden pens them in by day, then releases them to loot at night. We all split the take, and the Vigla roam the streets looking for felons who are already locked up. We have the same deal at the Chalke prison. But we can’t get at Anemas. Am I to understand that you have found the man you are looking for?”

  “I believe so.”

  “And he is currently in the Tower of Anemas?”

  “No. But if I am correct, he will be soon.”

  “I think that you had better tell me everything.”

  To think, of all the people in this city, our greatest ally might be this master of corruption. Yet I needed his help. So, I told him my suspicions. To my relief, they made sense to him.

  “There is a simple solution,” he said. “I send my men to kill Simon now.”

  “Simple, but not the best solution,” I said. “First, he’s not that easy to kill. Second, if you just kill him at the Rooster, the conspiracy remains intact. He’s just the arrow. We need the men holding the bow. If, on the other hand, we catch him in the attempt, then we have something to take to the authorities.”

  “What authorities? Will you make a case to the Emperor?”

  “No. He may not care that much. I have an idea on that subject, but I need to live through this first part.”

  “Very well. While we’re waiting, I’ll send one of my men to keep an eye on our erring tapster.”

  Father Theodore slipped out of the room.

  “I am expecting two of my colleagues to join us,” I said.

  “Your wife being one, I expect. I heard about her arrival and rapid ascent in the Empress’s retinue. Quite a talented woman.”

  “She is.”

  “And the other?”

  “Thalia, former fool to the Empress.”

  “I thought you said she was dead,” he said sharply.

  “I did. My apologies.”

  “It’s sad when there cannot be complete trust between people,” he said. “However, under the circumstances, you are forgiven. Why do you think Asan was killed?”

  “He had an unfortunate habit of poking his nose where it didn’t belong. My guess is that he discovered something about Simon, and tried to use the information to pry some money out of him.”

  “And Simon did what anyone would do in response. He killed the lad, and then threw him into your room to divert suspicion from himself.”

  “And to throw me off the scent for a while. I thought the killing was meant to be an attempt on one of us.”

  Father Theodore returned, escorting two cowled figures.

  “The ladies have arrived,” he announced.

  The cowls came off to reveal a pair of fools: one, an old lover; the other, my wife.

  “My dears,” said Father Esaias, rising and approaching them. “These bare quarters are graced by such loveliness. Mistress Thalia, I am delighted to see you alive.”

  “Thank you, Father.”

  “And, my lady Aglaia, I have heard so much about you in such a short time that I must kiss your hand in greeting.”

  She rolled her eyes at me as he did.

  “Actually, we’ve already met,” she said.

  “Have we? Surely not. I would have remembered such a charming encounter.”

  “What she is saying is that Aglaia was Claudius,” I explained.

  Thalia turned to look at her in shock.

  “You’re Claudius!” she exclaimed.

  “The same, mistress,” said Aglaia in Claudius’s voice. “I suppose that means you won’t want to flirt with me now.”

  “And you’re Theo’s wife.”

  “It’s Feste, now,” I said. “Please remember that.”

  “Nicely done, Apprentice,” said Thalia, looking her over critically. “I couldn’t have managed that disguise. But then, no one could possibly mistake me for a man.”

  “What a coincidence,” returned Aglaia sweetly. “I couldn’t manage your disguise. But then, no one could possibly mistake me for a slut.”

  I held my breath as the two of them glowered at each other, waiting to see if either would go for a weapon.

  Thalia grinned suddenly. “Insult given, insult received,” she said. “You pass, Apprentice. All right, Feste. What’s this all about?”

  “I think we had all better sit down,” I said, and we took our places around the table.

  “Some wine?” offered Father Esaias.

  “I wouldn’t say no,” said Thalia, and he poured for everyone. “But I thought this was a meeting of some urgency.”

  “So it is,” I said. “First, we have to discuss your future.”

  “Meaning?” asked Thalia.

  “Whether or not you are going to have one,” I said.

  She started, spilling her wine. Father Theodore was standing behind her, sword at the ready.

  “What is this about, Theo?” she asked.

  “The time has come for you to make a choice,” I said. “The Guild or your lover.”

  “Stan? What does he have to do with any of this?”

  “He is part of the group that killed our colleagues.”

  “No,” she said, shaking her head furiously. “He couldn’t have done that. He loves me. He saved my life.”

  “He may very well love you. He may have saved your life despite having first arranged for your death. Or maybe once you survived the attack, he decided it might be useful to keep you alive in case the Guild sent someone else. You gave him the password. Who knows what else he learned? Did you tell him that Zintziphitzes had overheard the conversation between the conspirators, and could possibly identify their voices?”

  She was silent for a long moment, then nodded.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I thought he was helping me.”

  An enormous wave of relief passed over me. I had thought that we would end up killing her.

  “Zintziphitzes lived on while the other fools were killed,” I said. “But then I made the mistake of sharing what I knew about him with you. And within two days, he was murdered. Which meant that either you killed him, or you told someone who did.”

  “The dangers of trusting a lover,” she said. “I guess we both made that mistake, eh, Theo?”

  Aglaia stiffened for a moment. I patted her hand, and she relaxed.

  “Will you help us now?” I asked her.

  “Yes. Name the oath you want me to take, and I will swear it.”

  “Swear by Zintziphitzes’ tomb,” I said.

  “Then by Zintziphitzes’ tomb, I will do whatever the Guild requires of me.”

  “Are we satisfied?” I asked the others. They nodded, Aglaia reluctantly. “Let me tell you what I think is happening. Last year, Isaakios and his daughter, Irene, managed to arrange for the escape of his son, Alexios. Irene no doubt drew upon the resources of her husband, Philip of Swabia. The escape was in early autumn, but the planning must have been going on for some time.

  “However, Philip had more than just an interest in reuniting his wife’s family. He’s one of the powers behind the Crusade that’s gathering in Venice.”

  “But what does a Crusade have to do with all of this?” asked Thalia. “They want to liberate the Holy Land.”

  “M
ost of them do. But others see the Crusaders as an available army. The Swabians have had their eyes on this city ever since the last Crusade came through here. The Byzantines treated the Swabians and their allies badly. Philip lost his father, Frederick, and a brother on that journey. He hasn’t forgotten. Once Alexios was in his hands, he had a ready-made cause to rally the troops around: to restore the boy to his rightful position as Emperor.”

  “And puppet, of course,” added Father Esaias.

  “Of course. But there was one stumbling block. The boy Alexios’s path to the throne was as the heir to Isaakios. But you cannot inherit something until the prior claimant dies. So, Isaakios’s life became forfeit. And if he died in an Imperial prison, then they could add revenge to the boy’s claim of right.

  “So, even as the escape was being arranged by Irene, her husband Philip set into motion this conspiracy, using Swabian agents who have been in place since the end of the last Crusade, still loyal to the memory of Frederick Barbarossa. It was necessary for them to have Isaakios transferred to Anemas to rid him of his Varangian protectors, so Stanislaus maneuvered his way from the Empress’s court to the Emperor’s. And it took him this long to convince the Emperor to move his brother. He probably has been suggesting the idea privately to other Imperial advisers, any number of whom might want to rid the world of Isaakios for their own reasons.

  “Then Zintziphitzes overheard that fateful conversation. He brought it to the fools, and somehow during their investigation, they made the conspirators aware of them. One of the fools must have been taken first and tortured to give up the rest. Or maybe the conspirators decided to eliminate all of the fools just to be safe. But they never knew about Zintziphitzes, for he was not part of the Guild.”

  “And your proof will be if Simon shows up in Anemas to assassinate Isaakios,” said Aglaia.

  “Yes. I mean to be in there to stop him. Which brings us back to how I can manage that.”

  Thalia laughed suddenly.

  “It’s simple,” she said. “You’re the Emperor’s fool. Have him send you in to entertain the prisoners. It will be an act of charity that will assuage his guilty soul.”

  We looked around at each other.