Jester Leaps In: A Medieval Mystery (22 page)

“The short fellow with the beard?” said the stableman. “Came here just after dawn. Collected his horse and left.”

“Did he say where he was going?” I asked, my heart sinking.

“No. But he was headed out of town. Rode toward the Rhegium Gate.”

“And he left no message?”

“None.”

Viola had left me. There was no getting around it. I didn’t think it was the attempt on her life that was the last straw. She had more mettle than that. Maybe it was finding herself in league with Esaias that drove her away.

Or maybe it was me, pure and simple. I had been too much the teacher, not enough the husband. Too many restraints placed upon her. She had left Orsino to flee a restrictive role, only to find another one with me.

Live and learn, Theo. Next time you’ll get it right. If you ever merit a next time.

I went to visit Zeus. It had been over a week since I had seen him. He had no further information on the subject. I tried to give him a carrot, but he snapped at my fingers so sharply that I had to drop it in self-defense.

Fine, I thought. Yesterday I had three friends in a city of four hundred thousand. Today, it seemed, I had none.

I arrived at Blachernae earlier than expected, but the Emperor was up, lunching and listening to his advisers argue with each other. He saw me and waved a chicken leg.

“Here, boy!” he said, whistling.

Oh, dear, that tiresome routine that emperors do when they think they’re being funny. No choice but to turn dog for the moment, scampering about on all fours, sitting up and begging while he held the leg just out of my reach. Finally, he turned to one of his advisers and said, “I’ll wager you a bezant he can do a somersault and catch this in the air.”

“I accept the wager, Your Majesty,” said the man.

Guffawing, Alexios tossed it high, shouting, “Fetch!”

I not only caught it, I caught it with my mouth. Hell, I was hungry, and I was damned if I was going to eat it off the floor.

I sat by the foot of the throne, eating quietly, watching the proceedings. The elder son-in-law, Alexios Palailogos, was there, lounging around in a gold tunic and leggings. Someone who I later learned was Michael Stryphnos, Euphrosyne’s brother-in-law and the Grand Duke of what was left of the navy, sat by him, reaching constantly into a bowl of figs between them. George Oinaiotes, the Grand Chamberlain, was standing at a table, pontificating, while Philoxenites watched everything from a seat nearby. Some lesser bureaucrats were scattered about. And, at the rear, stood Captain Stanislaus and two of his men. The captain was watching Philoxenites.

“All I am saying is that the raids on the Black Sea merchants would be much more profitable if we used our own ships,” Oinaiotes was saying as I munched away. “Hiring pirates to do the job cuts into our take. They just aren’t reliable enough.”

“How many ships do we have?” asked the Emperor.

Stryphnos looked a bit blank.

“Can’t say, exactly, Your Majesty,” he replied vaguely.

“It would help if you would stop selling them,” said Palailogos, elbowing him.

“Now, now,” said Stryphnos. “I only sold a few. Needed the money. Birthday presents and such. Anyhow, the pirates have been working out just fine. Lovely folk. Give ’em a few titles, a nice sash, and they think they’re just like us.”

“We have gotten some complaints about these raids,” interrupted Philoxenites. “Some of the merchantmen were our own. Imperial piracy is usually directed at other countries’ goods.”

“Is it?” exclaimed the Emperor, bursting into laughter. “Well, we had better stop doing it then. Robbing Peter to pay Paul, eh, Fool?”

“Aptly put, milord,” I said.

“I still say we should restore the navy,” resumed Oinaiotes. “It’s just more comfortable when they report directly to us.”

“Make you earn your keep at last,” said Palailogos to Stryphnos.

“But Your Majesty,” protested Stryphnos. “Building more ships would necessitate cutting down that lovely forest. Where will you hunt then?”

“He has a point, you know,” said the Emperor to the Chamberlain. “It’s so convenient when you can go out, kill a few deer, and be back home by sunset. If we chop all that down just to build a few boats, then I’ll have to travel an extra day to hunt. And you know how I hate riding that long. Makes my legs hurt even more, eh, Fool?”

“We certainly wish no pain to the royal limbs, Your Majesty,” I said. “If the Emperor cannot stand, then the empire must fall.”

“Hah! Well spoken, Fool,” exclaimed the Emperor. He turned to his flutist, who was standing by the throne. “You see, my dear, it’s a play on words, because I am the empire, of course, and . . .”

She looked at him blankly.

“Has to work on her Greek,” he confided to me. “Knows enough to know what I want, but that’s about it.”

“Sounds like the ideal woman,” I said.

“Watch this,” he said, grinning lewdly. He turned to her. “Nap!”

She smiled, picked up her flute, and headed toward the Imperial Bedchamber.

“Is she a treasure or what?” he said, sighing. He made as if to get up.

Philoxenites rose and cleared his throat. The Emperor looked at him irritatedly.

“What is it, Eunuch?” he said.

“Your Majesty, there is the question of your nephew,” Philoxenites said quietly.

There was a slight rustle among the rest of the advisers. The Emperor sat back in his throne, his hands resting on the arms in an attempt at a regal pose.

“What of him?” he said.

“We have received word that he has made his way to Hagenau, and is under the protection of his sister and the German court.”

“That little whore Irene,” said the Emperor. “Quite the operator. Like a cat that keeps landing on its feet.”

“Or on its back,” I said.

The Emperor gave a quick bark of laughter and patted me on the shoulder.

“He has also made contact with the Crusaders,” continued Philoxenites.

“Well, what of it? Let him go on a Crusade. Do the boy some good. Make a man of him at last.”

“What if he is seeking an army to turn against Your Majesty?”

“He wouldn’t do that!” declared the Emperor. “The boy owes
me his life. I could have had him killed. I could have had his eyes put out. Did I? Did I?”

The advisers shook their heads.

“I was too soft with the boy, I admit it. But I had hopes for him. Thought he might come around, see the light. Didn’t think he had any loyalty to my brother after all this time. So, he escaped. Does it matter? Let him hide behind his sister’s skirts, or play soldier and get killed by the infidels. Why should he be of any interest to me now?”

“What if he brings the Crusade through here?” persisted Philoxenites.

“Then we’ll stop him,” said Palailogos confidently.

“Yes! We’ll stop him,” agreed the Emperor. “The people won’t have him here. They don’t know him. He’s just a runaway boy. What hold does he have over Byzantium? Are there any here who would support his claims? Captain?”

“None, Your Majesty,” said Stanislaus.

“Well, then. You are wasting valuable time, eh? Time that I could be spending in my, er, nap.”

“Then there is the question of your brother, Isaakios,” said Oinaiotes.

The Emperor looked at him through half-closed eyes.

“What of him?” he said, wearily.

“The whole world knows of Your Majesty’s mercy and kindness,” said the Chamberlain. “Certainly, fraternal obligations have been honored to the hilt in his case. It almost pains me to suggest anything that would be contrary to your natural beneficence.”

“Go on,” said the Emperor.

“It was Isaakios who arranged for his son’s escape. The evidence is irrefutable. Yet you have done nothing to punish him for this transgression.”

“I deposed him. I blinded him. Executed several of his supporters. Seems like I’ve done nothing but punish him. Look, I know where you’re going with this, but I’m not going to heap any more misery on his life. I’m Emperor, he’s not, and that’s all we need to say on the subject. Let him have his petty little plots. It gives him something to do with the day.”

“But at least remove him from the Double Column,” said Oinaiotes. “Keep him incarcerated somewhere more secure. Restrict his visitors.”

“But the Double Column is so comfortable,” said the Emperor. “And it has that lovely view.”

“Isaakios is blind, Your Majesty,” Oinaiotes reminded him. “What use does he have for a view?”

“What think you, Captain?”

“Keep your enemies close, Your Majesty,” said Stanislaus. “Always good strategy.”

“And you, Fool?” he said, turning to me.

“Your Majesty, I wouldn’t dare give advice to divinity.”

“Stop the fawning, and answer me. What would you do if he were your brother?”

“If he were my brother, then he would be the brother of a fool and therefore of no concern to Your Majesty.”

“Hmph,” he said. “Well, I’ll think about this. After my nap. For it is that time. Go away, all of you. Eunuch, pay the fool.”

He stood, seizing a staff to lean upon. We all bowed, and he left the room.

“Well, Jester, you’ve certainly wormed your way in quickly,” commented Stryphnos. “Now, answer me this. What do you call a man who seeks advice from fools?”

“Emperor,” I said, looking directly at him.

Stanislaus hid a smile. I bowed and followed Philoxenites out of the room.

“You didn’t have to do much today,” he commented.

“Shall I await the end of his nap?” I asked.

“No,” he replied. “When he’s that insistent upon it, it means he plans to nap for quite some time.”

“With a pillow like that, I’m not surprised.”

We entered his office.

“Sit down,” he said.

I complied, and he paid me. I started to leave, but he waved me back to my chair.

“We need to talk,” he said.

“But you were present the entire time I was,” I said. “Surely you need no report from me.”

“Not about that,” he said, scratching his nose.

They came up behind me so silently that the first thing I heard was the slight rush of air as the ropes settled around me. I didn’t even have a chance to struggle. I was trussed up in short order, barely able to turn my head to see the two Varangians who did it. I recognized neither of them.

I maintained calm. A facade, of course, but I’m good at those.

“What would you like to talk about?” I said politely.

“You told me that you had come from the north,” Philoxenites said. “And indeed you entered the city through the Rhegium Gate, consistent with your tale. But then I receive word from the guardpost at the Anastasian Wall that you passed through along the Via Egnatia. Which means you were coming from the west.”

“I’m terrible with directions,” I admitted sheepishly. “I must have taken the wrong road at Philippopolis.”

“Don’t be tiresome,” he said, sitting on the edge of the desk. The guards moved my chair up until I was a foot away. Then Philoxenites slapped me once.

“Ugh,” he said, wiping the makeup off his hand with a handkerchief.
“Very unpleasant. Don’t let me do that again. To whom do you owe your fealty? Venice? Hagenau?”

“Neither,” I said. “How about you?”

He motioned to one of the guards, who then delivered an expertly placed blow with a club to the side of my head. I saw stars for a moment. The Pleiades, I think.

“Where’s your assistant, Claudius?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” I said. “He disappeared this morning. Ask at the Rooster; they’ll confirm it.”

“At the Rooster?” he said, laughing. “They’ll confirm anything they’re paid to confirm. You have to do better with your references, Fool. Who do you work for?”

“The Emperor.”

Another blow. I saw Orion this time. It made sense—he was always chasing the Pleiades.

“If you kill me, what will you tell the Emperor?” I said.

He shrugged.

“People come and go around here,” he said. “What’s another missing fool?”

“So, you did kill the others,” I snarled.

He looked at me in surprise.

“What on earth are you talking about?” he asked.

“The murdered fools,” I said. “Niko, Piko, Demetrios, Tiberius, Ignatius, Thalia. Even Zintziphitzes.”

He looked at me, completely baffled.

“Step outside,” he directed the guards.

I heard a door close.

“Now,” he said. “What you are about to tell me will determine whether I allow you to live. Are you saying that all of these people are dead?”

“Murdered,” I said. “At your behest.”

“Why would I want to kill a fool?”

“You were about to kill me.”

“But you’re a spy,” he said. “Or aren’t you? When were they killed?”

“Back in November.”

He stood and paced the room behind me. I felt something salty run into my mouth, but whether it was blood or tears I could not say.

Philoxenites reappeared, holding a dagger.

“I had no knowledge of this,” he said.

“Why should I believe you?”

“What makes you think I was connected to these things?”

“You were overheard at the Hippodrome by one of us, plotting against the Emperor.”

He placed the blade against my throat.

“What plot?” he said softly. “When was this?”

“At the games of November first. We know everything now. And if I am killed, it will be brought straight to your rivals here. You won’t live to see me buried.”

He started to laugh.

“You played this game badly, Fool,” he said. “The games of November first? On November first, I was in Adrianople. And I can bring in several hundred witnesses to swear to that before the Emperor.”

A fool’s mouth is his destruction
.

PROVERBS
18:7

N
ow, as much as I enjoy the idle badinage of a fool who is about to meet his maker, there comes a time to speak seriously,” said Philoxenites. “If there is a plot against the Emperor, I want to know about it.”

“How do I know you’re not part of it?” I asked. “How can I be sure you won’t just slit my throat afterward?”

“You don’t, and you can’t,” he said affably. “I seldom find it necessary to prove myself to a common ruffian like yourself. So, if you don’t talk, I’ll just slit your throat now. The way I see it, you have little to lose.”