Stories Thread

Constantinople, Order of St. John's Chambers, 1081

Iakovos rubbed his eyes and shifted in his seat, setting the book he had been reading to one side. He turned to stare at the flickering flame before standing up and turning to the shelves of scrolls and books within the Order's library within the Senate. Iakovos sighed as he looked wonderingly at the marvel the written word was, how each parchment, each scroll, each page, was the past connecting with the present. Iakovos mused to himself how he spent more time in the library reading or writing then the chapel praying and reflecting.

Iakovos sighed to himself as he reached up and pulled a copy of the book he was reading from the shelf and opened it to the page he was reading. He was sure he had come across a discrepancy, and it would need to be corrected. After a moment, he found it. A sentence had been rearranged, and the one he was reading from was written in a form harder to understand. Closing the book, Iakovos returned to his desk and jotted down the book title and page, to remind himself to look for a third to see if he could not clear up the actual phrasing.

Returning the one upon his desk to the shelves, Iakovos extinguished the candle, and turned to go to his private chambers. As he walked, a chain with a locket clinked, and Iakovos instinctively reached for it. Upon it was written in German "Seek first to Understand, then to be Understood.". It was a parting gift from his father, the only thing he had of him, who had died when Iakovos was 9 at Manzikert, along with his two elder brothers, Aleksander and Ehrhart. His mother had tried to raise him afterwards on her own, but soon passed away of heartbreak not soon after.

He was taken to a monastery, where he truly learned of God, and where he developed his love of the written word. Iakovos had made his way to his chambers, brushing open the door and sweeping in only to collapse into his bed, tired from the days activities and the lack of sleep. Iakovos quickly drifted off into a deep slumber.

(written with TheFlax)

The Merchant and the Princess

Anna had picked the early afternoon to visit Hagia Sophia in order to commune with the Lord, yet as she neared the Magnaura, she sensed something was wrong when she could not hear the usual heated debates coming from the building. She paused in front of the building, halting her escort, asking herself if she should peer into the building.

Her attention was suddenly caught by a clamor coming from within the Magnaura's courtyard. The seat of the Senate was rarely calm when the august body was in session, but the vociferous voice that was rising from the marble gateway leading to the Magnaura had nothing to do with bickering senators. It was rather an eclectic mix of high-pitched italian swears, some so obscure even a native speaker would have had trouble discerning their literal meaning, and boisterous oaths of revenge, most of them inhuman tortures having to do with the ingurgitation of substantial quantities of lard.

When the speaker finally exited the Senate courtyard, fearful guards respectfully keeping their distances, she could see the man was a strongly built Italian. His most prominent feature, his expansive belly, preceded him by several feet. He was dressed in the finest Italian silk clothes, although the choice of attire and color left much to be desired. In one hand he held a ridiculously large, feathered cappello hat with which he was threatening the guards following him.

As the gates were closed behind him, he bellowed :

"Pagliacci ignari! I will have you fattened with little German salsiccie until your tongues drop off! Scimmie! I will go to the highest authorities with this! The highest authorities! The Emperor himself will hear of this you can be sure! To treat Voluminoso Maiale with such indignity! I'm a prince I'll have you know! Un principe, voi imbeciles! When the consuls of Genoa learn of this! Mama mia!"

Anna could hardly contain a light laughter at grotesquely obese man's display. Nevertheless, she regained some measure of seriousness when he mentioned the emperor. If he had a complaint to make, it could be made it to her, no need to bother her father with such things.

Neither could this task be relegated to someone of lower rank if he was a prince. For diplomacy's sake, even Latin princes needed to be respected. Motioning her escort forward, Anna made her way to him. She addressed him in a soft and conciliatory voice.

"Good lord of Genoa. You wish address a complaint to the royal family?"

Voluminoso turned around with impressive speed and agility for such one of such enormous bulk. Of course, keeping his balance was something else altogether, but after nearly flattening one of the princess’ retinue, he managed to find a relatively firm footing. When he saw a lady of the highest nobility before his eyes, his years of classical education where etiquette and prestance were beaten into him with a stick (or sometimes a large trout) came rushing back to his mind. Grimacing for an instant at the thought of the trout, he quickly struck a pose and bowed, his flabby stomach scraping the ground.

"La maggior parte della altezza nobile, signora allineare, principessa generosa, I thank you for your concern! You are a true soul to take pity of a man in such extreme circumstances! Mama mia! Even in Italia the gentleladies are not so caring!

I am Voluminoso Maiale, of Genoa, merchant extraordinaire, richest man west of Constantinople e un vero Principe Italiano! I have just arrived in the city on my ship, il Carico di Lardo and I fear I got lost. Even my coach has abandoned me! So I entered this building here to seek some help, to talk to the proper authorities, but they treated me like una bestia senza valore! It is unimaginable! To treat so badly a man coming from the great city of Genoa! A man that has come to make connexions with the great people of the Greeks and Romans! I bring the best of wares! And money! I will buy entire city blocks! Make markets! And soldi! Soldi per tutto! Per tutto! For you, for me, for everybody!

And then I want to meet the Emperor! And his daughter! They say she is the most beautiful lady on the northern shores of the Mediterranean. A beauty like you la mia signora. I have brought gifts and presents for the royal family! My ship is full of them! But what am I to do, now lost in this huge city? And my coach, this idiota maledetto that has run away! I pray you can help me principessa generosa!"

Voluminoso was giving a truly a pathetic show. His beady little eyes seemed ready to burst in tears and his large, greasy shoulders were visibly sinking into his form. But worst above all, he seemed sincerely distraught at his situation. That any man be in such predicament would elicit sympathy, but that such an enormous buffoon be so assailed by misery could turn around even the hardest of hearts.

Anna usually despised Italian princes. They were more akin to rich merchants than anything else and Anna was tempted to abandon him to his fate. Yet something in his speech moved her. She pitied the man even though he was a Latin. He seemed genuinely in distress, of that she was sure. She hardly understood the barbaric tongue of the man and what she did understand of his disjointed Greek made little sense. He wanted to buy the city?

Nevertheless, he wanted to meet the emperor and her. Maybe she could spare her father the visit of this man by indulging him. Surely pointing him to lodging establishment and making him understand the emperor was too busy with the Magnaura would not be too hard. For all the pity she had for him, she would not tolerate wasting too much time with this bumbling fool. Speaking noticeably slower and very clearly, as if to an infant, Anna pointed to the building behind the man. Hopefully, he would understand, but Anna had her doubts.

"That is the Mag-nau-ra, the location where our representatives assemble to pass le-gis-la-tions. No one but those authorized to do so may enter. Now the emperor is bu-sy, but I, as his daughter and representative, might be able to alleviate your concerns. You were seeking lod-ging, yes?"

There was a pause in Voluminoso’s train of thought. His mind snapped. She had said it. She was her. Her. The woman he had come to see. The woman he had come to marry and bring back to his estate in Genoa. He felt great emotion to know that she had stopped to talk to him in his hour of need. He was overcome by a powerful feeling, something he had rarely felt before. His immense body quivered for an instant. Tender feelings flooded his mind, and for a fleeting moment, a damn broke deep inside of him and he was filled with bliss. But he was quickly called back to the grim realities of his situation, and a single thought now clearly formed in his mind:

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

She was too THIN!

Totally unacceptable for a man of his prestigious situation to be married to a woman of this minuscule size, be she queen of half the world! No, no, no, no, no! He had to get out of this situation and fast! He felt that she could fall in love with his herculean physique at any time. He knew the sway he had over women. And yet, such a charming lady, and she was the fabled princess of the Greeks, their new Helen (well less plump of course, a shame). He could not simply push her back. He had to play the game.

"Cuore dorato, I cannot accept your help! You are a principessa, a Greek princess you see, and I am un grande e commerciante potente, il più ricco."

Voluminoso hoped he wasn’t being to hard on her. He added, with forced emphasis :

"But I will hold your smile in my heart, bella signora, it will warm me more then any hotel or senate ever could. I will hold dear this memory of the princess of the Greeks and send you the presents I have brought on board my ship! But I will be busy you understand, I’m an important man, demand and supply and bridging new markets. I might not be able to come see you, braciola di maiale adorabile, or your fine father."

As he was saying these words, his coach finally reappeared. It looked like it had been vandalized as a huge ax was stuck in a door and one wheel was missing, but it somehow managed to keep relatively straight. Voluminoso entered it as quickly as his adipous form would allow and waved at the princess as his coached dashed away :

"I know you would have me stay, but I must take my leave il mio piccolo criceto grasso. I will send you an orchestra to sing you the serenade!"

Feeling relieve that he had finally been able to put an end to this rather unfortunate conversation, he hoped he would be able to spend the rest of his trip to Constantinople without meeting her again, but he had an ominous feeling his fate might decide otherwise.

Anna was stunned at his tirade. She felt relief at the mention of not having enough time to see her, but why the sudden change of disposition? The moment she had revealed who she was, he had changed his attitude. One instant he wanted guidance and to explain his grievances, the next he wanted to never see again?

Was it something she said? Was he afraid of her? She silently hoped so, because she hardly wished to meet that man again. And yet she feared fortune would not show her that simple kindness...

Constantinople, 1081

A letter is personally delivered to Markianos Ampelas. Verified authentic by a method agreed upon.

Quote:

---

This is a preliminary report based on the information collected so far.

The subject's claim to have Greek family is likely true. His main correspondence is with a man who he identifies as an uncle, though the identity of the man has not been independently verified yet. Other possible family members have been observed interacting with the subject, though their relations have not been discovered. In general, the subject and family act normal, given that they have not seen each other for many years, and there has been no evidence that this is a ruse or cover. That, combined with the fact that he has been admitted to the Senate (though the proof presented to the Senate is unknown), strongly indicates that the subject has Greek relatives as he claims.

However, the subject has been observed exhibiting several suspicious behaviors, which are summarized below. The first set of behaviors relates to his political allegiance, and the second to the religious.

The subject has several contacts whom he meets with regularly. These men are likely of Arabic descent, though that is based on appearance only, but all of my associates, some of whom are very widely traveled, agree on this point. Their meetings have been in public places, but difficult to approach. This possibly indicates that they wish the contents of their meetings to remain secret, even at the expense of the meetings themselves being publicly observable. However, that is not the only explanation, as they could simply be unskilled in choosing clandestine meeting places, or that they are unconcerned with being seen. Furthermore, these men act in a slightly subordinate manner towards him. If he was in the Mamluk army as he claims, these could be his former comrades, especially of lower rank. If he is a spy, then these men could form his spy ring, with him as the ring leader. They remain unidentified.

The subject was observed visiting the Hagia Sophia, but did not cross himself at the entrance. This is a possible indication of heathenism, but he may have been unaware of the custom if he spent many years among the Saracens. Still, unless he was taken at a very young age, it is something he would have been taught. He was probably forced to convert to Islam when captured, and his visit to the church may indicate a desire to convert back, although his reason for the visit has not been confirmed. Another small but potentially relevant observation was that the subject refuses to drink wine. Although there are those among us who do as well, this could be a possible indication of continued allegiance to Mohamed. However, since he was taken at a young age, he may simply be unacquainted with wine, and may yet be unaware of its benefits.

These comprise the observations collected thus far. The subject appears fully unaware of being observed, and observations and other activities will therefore continue at no reduced effort.

---

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Facts straight from the horse's mouth... of a horse named AG, that is.

((Written in colloboration with AussieGiant))

Constantinople, 1081

I sometimes wonder what happened to the gods of old, those who shaped the world of my long passed ancestors and that have such a great importance in the ancient texts. I was taught by father Agathos and mother that when the Christ was born, they all died. Yet, how can we be truly sure? They might have been forgotten, simply left behind to the eroding winds of history. What of humans? What of me? In my time, many know my name and I was born with a clear destiny. Yet, once it is over and I am gone for good, will anyone remember who I was? In a millenia, will anyone wonder who I was, how I felt and what were my dreams? For, if gods can be vanquished by time, what hope have we of surviving the tides of time?

- Memoirs of Anna Komnenos

A small procession made its way through the streets of Konstantinopolis, the afternoon sun shining clearly above them. Leading the small group of mostly armed bodyguards, Anna Komnenos wore a simple white silk robe with gold filigree which was complemented by a veil of the same fabric and color. Since her visit to the Mavrozomis estate, she had forsworn the use of the traditional litter in favor of walking to her destination, especially for a visit to Hagia Sophia where she had to show humility before God.

In a short time, she found herself in front of the great church and signaled her retinue to wait for her, for surely no harm would come to her in this Holy place. Leaving them behind, she made her way to Hagia Sophia's entrance in bold strides and yet she faltered when she noticed two men also intent on entering the church. Her gaze quickly focused on the second man, the one who had attracted her attention. He seemed to stand out in the streets as much as she did, yet in his case, it was not because of who he was but more because of the way he was dressed.

Tall and sender, the young man was dressed unlike anyone Anna had ever encountered. Instead of the traditional chlamys or sagion, he wore a blue silk cloak of unknown design and embroidered with marking she could not recognize. Black bands of cloth on his upper arms also attracted her attention, displaying more puzzling markings.

Surely this was the Strator from the land of the Saracen of whom the rumormongers speak incessantly. Curious and seeing an opportunity, Anna raced ahead of two to block their path. Pointedly ignoring the older of the two men, she interpelled the object of her curiosity in a confident and somewhat haughty tone.

"I would speak to you... If you please." In reality, her demeanour indicated she would not give him any choice in the matter.

Her escort approached hastily until they were only at a few paces from her, their tension and nervosity palpable.

The older of the two men blanched white with shock at the words spoken towards the younger man, the shade of white paled even further when his faced registered who had spoken the words a few seconds later.

In contrast, the young Saracen officer paused deliberately in his stride and began to assess both the young woman in front of him, his uncle’s reaction and that of the guards closing in around the three of them.

In a slow and smooth motion he positioned himself between his uncle and the young woman and in an attempt to ease the guards apprehension, he opened the palms of his hands outwards and bowed deliberately with a practised motion.

"Assalaam Alaikum my lady, of course you may speak with me. What would you like to discuss?"

Clearly some of the attending guards knew Arabic as at least one tensed even further at the greeting.

Anna considered the foreign words spoken to her and noticed some of her guardians reacting visibly at them. Was it a threat? No, the tone was off. It seemed more like a greeting of somekind, yet she had no way of knowing if it was polite or not. Refusing to cede the initiative of the conversation, she pressed on heedless of true meaning of those two words.

"I have heard there is man in the Magnaura who comes to us from the south, from Egypt? It is said he is more Arab than Roman... Would you be this man?"

Her voice held no hint of accusation or reproach, only unbridled curiosity.

Glancing at the guards momentarily the young man could hear the sincerity of the question even though she did not answer as he was expecting. Clearly she was unware of the customs of Egypt.

"I can not be certain my lady, but I believe I was the only man dressed in the Senate session as you see now. Therefore it is safe to assume I am the person you are referring to.

Would you like to take tea and talk further or proceed into the Church?"

Anna was shocked, yet intrigued. No sane man would usually be so foreward with her and yet she did not find it wholly unpleasant. Yet, she was in public and had an appearance to maintain.

"Hagia Sophia can wait for me; we will talk further although I will abstain from consuming any tea. You may have some if you wish."

The last sentenced was voiced as if she was granting him a privilege. Motioning to an attendant to join her, she added a few words politely.

"You only need to ask and he will fetch it for you."

A glance at his uncle had the desired effect. The older man moved away and continued passed the circle of guards to hover near the massive doors of the Orthodox Church. The alarm etched in his uncles eyes was clearly seen by Apionnas yet the young man's calm deamenor never waivered.

Turning his gaze back to the woman in front of him he had to admit that with closer inspection she did seem more appealing that when he saw her on the steps of the Hippodrome.

Holding her gaze for a few moments longer than decorum permitted he finally bowed more fully.

"I've been remise my lady. My name is Apionnas Vringas, at least here in Byzantium."

Anna gave him a soft smile, discarting her attendant with a flick of her wrist.

"Apionnas..." She lingered on the word thoughtfully. "You have caused quite a stir with your uncommon attire. Some would brand you a traitor or an enemy, although I am sure you are trying to make some other point with this choice of clothing. I am not wrong, am I?

There were little expectations in her voice, only more curiosity.

Apionnas's raised eyebrow in response to her words, was more than enough for her to realise that there could possibly be more than one level of mean in the conversation they where having.

Again he held her gaze in his own for more than a few moments. It was not an uncomfortable silence as his slightly amused expression gave her more than enough to ponder while he chose his next words.

"Where I was raised this is a uniform and is regarded as a badge of rank and honour. Of course I am aware of where I am and much to my uncle's ire I've decided not to discard what I am and where I have come from.

Any person that so quickly assumes my allegiance is one way or another, based simply on how I look, is either a simpleton or easily influenced by superficial things."

Apionnas pauses to glance at the guards who are clearly close enough to hear everything being said. He continues;

"I doubt you are either. For example, the black bands around my arms indicate my name and rank inside the Mansuriyya regiment I served with.

You on the other hand seem to cause quite a stir by simply being in any particular place. My uncle says you are a princess and the daughter of the Basileus. How do you deal with being...how can I say...unique?"

She chuckled at the question. Had she not herself wondered the same thing many times? Nevertheless she replied without missing a beat.

"I mostly let others deal with my uniqueness, they usually worry about it enough for two." She spared a look to Apionnas's uncle, before producing another polite smile. "In the case of your uncle, he seems to be worrying enough for three."

Noticing a small crowd forming at a distance, but with its attention solely upon them, Anna spoke softly enough to reach only Apionnas's ear.

"It would seem this conversation has reached its end."

Then taking a more haughty tone all could hear, she added. "You may proceed into Hagia Sophia, Senator."

Smiling at the ruse the young Senator bowed and said loudly.

"Of course my Lady."

As he moved passed her he said more quietly.

"It has been a pleasure my lady. Assalaam Alaikum, may peace be upon you."

((Written in collaboration with Deguerra))

Byzantine Intrigues

Constantinople, 1081

Anna looked at her portable sundial, it was nearing the tenth hour, she would be late. She cursed inwardly Kalameteros who had dragged her across the city, to meet of all place, at the Golden Gates. Nevertheless, his offer had been too tempting to refuse, maybe a bit too much. Part of her expected some sort of trap, or at least that the Strator would use his advantage over a woman, be it a princess, alone in the streets at a late hour.

She would be the one with the advantage, she had been bred to always have the advantage, as her grandmother had taught her. She had sought Alexandros, Aleksandr in the tongue of his people, the man responsible for the security of the women's quarters in the Imperial Palace and had asked him a favor, the coins she had given him had sealed the deal. She had simply said she wanted to watch the sun set from the walls of the city. An odd request, but with the emperor busy, there was no one left to deny her.

Towering above Anna were his part of the bargain, four varangians who spoke only a few words of greek, enough to receive basic orders. A feet and more taller than her, these Rus carried their crude instruments of war with pride, large axes and in some case long blades. Their blazing red tunica, complemented with a dull colored chlamys, coupled with their unusual height contrasted vividly with the petite woman in light green and blue robe they flanked. Their hard faces, some carrying a few scars, had long unkept beards ranging from blond to a reddish hue which were surpassed in lenght by their straight hair of a similar color.

Arriving at the Golden Gate late by a few minutes, Anna had no doubt the impetious Strator would wait for her. She relished the thought of seeing his reaction at her unexpected escort.

Looking around, Anna saw nobody in sight but the guardsmen at the gate. She stood and waited with her escort, but nobody came. The occasional late pedestrian hurriedly scampered by in the distance, but at this late hour no respectable citizen would be seen walking the streets, much less leaving the city, so the area around the gate remained eerily quiet. Just as Anna was getting ready to return to the palace, a lone figure detached itself from the group of guardsmen underneath the gate.

The man that approached was no ordinary guard. His fine tunic and embroidered cloak named him an officer. His face was hard to make out in the shadows, but he was relatively young for any rank and had the dark hair complexion of a Greek. Eying the newcomer warily, Anna's Varangians formed a small semi-circle in front of her, but did not impede the man as he walked briskly towards the Princess.

Keeping a respectful distance the man spoke: "My Lady, I have been asked to give you the following message. Ioannis does not think it is safe to meet here and would have you follow me to a more appropriate place." He eyed the men to his side and licked his lips. "He did not mention an escort, but...as I do not think they will part from your side, they can come."

If this had suprised Anna, none present could tell, as her expression remained neutral. Nevertheless she boilded with rage, mostly at herself for being so smug. As if in chess, Ioannis had made a better opening move. In the end, it did not matter, she would be the one to call «checkmate», this was only a minor setback.

Aknowledging the officer, she spoke curtly.

"Lead on then."

As she followed him, her Rus escort fanned out around her, ever alert for the slightest sight of treachery. If anything went wrong, she was sure the young officer would be the first to die.

With no great hurry in his step, the officer started walking back into the city. North and east he led the, in the direction of the old city, but not along the main road, instead choosing smaller side alleys that kept them hidden from the few guards that patrolled at this hour.

At the Forum of the Bous, the offer took a sharp turn, and soon another. By now Anna was a little unsure of where they were, and what direction they headed in, until all of a sudden the magnificent Forum of Thedosius sprawled ahead of them, in the descending sun. Even at this time of the evening there were still people about here, but in contrast to his previous secrecy the young guard led them straight across it, entering a small park that branched off to the west. Anna knew this area reasonably well, it was one of the prettier parts of the city. The park was a small expanse of green, with trees and bushes lining the little paths. Above it, still visible in the evening sky, towered the Aqueduct of Valens.

--------------------------------------------------

Verina settled herself in a hedgerow under the great Aqueduct, her gray woolen cloak aiding her concealment in the underbrush. She had arrived sometime earlier before the meet, waiting to see if Ioannis Kalameteros would show himself. She thought herself quite clever in setting this up, if it was a trap she could flee before anyone would ever know she was here. Time passed incredibly slowly in moments like this one and part of her simply wanted to run away, back to the Palace. Greed and ambition overcame her fear, she would show this equally ambitious young noble she was not some weakling.

Suddenly everything went wrong. Anna appeared out of nowhere, even if she had not recognised her clothes, she could have told by the stuck up pose in which the young woman walked. Verina paled when she noticed an soldier, or an officer, and four tall and muscular men who dwarfed anyone in their presence. Varangians! Anna must have been expecting trouble... Anna must have been expecting to find her here!

Verina panicked and cursed the uncanny intelligence of her mistress. She scrurried out from her hiding place and ran to the Palace, hoping she would get there before Anna.

Ioannis Kalameteros cursed as he watched the events rapidly unfolding before him from his own hiding place. He had positioned himself a small way away from the main path, between a statue and one of the mighty stone pillars of the aqueduct, where the shadows were darkest, his concealment further enhanced by a dark cloak.

Shortly before the eleventh hour, he had seen a woman arrive, in plain but good dress and study the area a bit, before hiding herself in a bush not far from his own hiding place. He had been perplexed. A woman? He cursed himself now for his foolishness. Why not a woman, after all. In fact, a woman made a great deal more sense than a man. His mouth spouting words that would have made an innkeeper blush, he launched himself out of the shadows and after the fleeing woman.
She was no fool. She did not run straight towards wherever it was that she was going, but darted into a side alley here, around a corner there, until Ioannis was quite unsure he knew where they were. But he was gaining. She was agile, true, and running with the fear of the almighty in her, but her dress was not made for running. Slowly but surely he was gaining.

Then he rounded a corner after her and she was gone. Ioannis came to a stop, panting. He peered down the street, but there was nobody to be seen. A small alley to the side revealed nothing but darkness.

Still catching his breath he walked to the nearest wall and leaned against it, his thoughts racing. Who had she been? Would she make another attempt at contacting him?
Just as he was about to leave, a shape came bounding out of the small alley and ran straight into him still standing in the shadows. As both fell to the floor, he recognised her face. Before she had another chance to run, he seized her with one arm and pressed her against the wall, clamping her mouth shut with the other hand. She kicked ans struggled, landing a painful blow on his shin, but he held on for all he was worth. After what seemed an age she stopped, her eyes peering at him over his gloved hand with a look of fear and defiance.

He tried to make his voice as calm as possible: "I am Ioannis Kalameteros. You wanted to meet me."

She ceased her struggles the instant he gave his name, relief evident in her frightened eyes.

He took his hand away from her mouth but held her firmly pressed against the wall. "Good." He sighed. "I am sorry if I scared you, but I had to make sure it was not a trap." He gave a weak smile. "I am not so sure now it would not have been better just to risk it. That is quite a kick you have there. In any case, I believe you wanted to talk to me. Now if you promise me not to run, I will let you go." Slowly, he loosed his grip on her.

"Yes... yes my lord."

Taking a wary step back, Ioannis pulled a small bottle from his robe and took a long swig. Hesitating briefly, he offered it to the woman. "Do you have a name?"

As she is released, Verina reajusted her veil before indicating she did not wish any liquor. Hesitation gripped her at the mention of a name, but quickly she thought of another servant she did not like much. "Eudoxia is my name, lord. If I may be so bold, I take it you are interested in my offer?"

Unable and unwilling to bite back his sarcasm, Ioannis gave the woman a flat stare: "On the contrary, I hide in the shadows and preform cross-city sprints on a nightly basis, because I find it keeps my skin healthy." Were all servants this thick?

Ignoring the comment, Verina continued. "I cannot tarry late at this hour and all I can tell you is that I know most of the princesses secrets; be it the nature of her suitors and her relation to each of them or who she is in contact with and what information they give her. My price will be fifteen follis per piece of information and a garantee that when the princess discovers this, and she will, I will have a safe haven."

Ioannis leaned back and though for a brief moment before speaking: "I will give you thirty follis on the guarantee that this information goes to me and only me." Leaning in close to her face he continues "As for a safe haven, what makes you think you can trust me with that? Once the Princess finds out, what use are you to me?"

Her meek facade quickly shifted to a cold and calculating expression. "Consider this, lord" Placing a great deal of weight on the word. "She will want to know to whom I was speaking." She pretended an exagerated moan for an instant. "Oh, how long will I endure the torture they will put me through..."

Ioannis stepped back and laughed with something almost approaching warmth. "You are a worthy opponent Eudoxia, the Princess should be wary. Although you may not want to connect yourself to me, even under torture. I don't think the Princess likes me much." Giving a cheeky grin, he quickly became serious again. "So my condition is accepted. Thirty follis. Only to me?"

"It is, lord." She gave him a bow. "May I retire from your presence?"

He chuckled again. "I do not believe our current surroundings call for such formalities." He let his eyes wander meaningfully along the darkened alley. "In any case I am not much of a man for formalities. How will you contact me? And how will I contact you and pay you?"

"I will contact you the same way I did for this encounter and you will pay me when I give you the information, in person."

"Good. I like personal meetings. If I need to contact you, you will be told. I will not do so unless it is absolutely necessary. If you are found out, make your way to my House and identify yourself as Eudoxia. If that is impossible, there is an officer in the palace guard called Stephanos Koressio. Tell him who you are and he will bring you to me. I think that is all. Goodbye Eudoxia"

She gave him a curt bow and left, hastily making her way back to the Imperial Palace.

Ioannis breathed a sigh of relief. A remarkable woman in her own right. This had been a most interesting night.

-------------------------------------------------

Having passed the Aqueduct, they finally halted and Anna let out an audible sight. Her features conveyed a profond annoyance at the situation, even through her veil. Eyeing the officer with disdain, she interpelled him.

"I have had enough of this silly game, have you thouroughly wasted my time or will Ioannis Kalameteros will finally grace me with his presence?"

As the officer turned around, Anna noticed the tight expression of anxiety in his face, and the way his eyes shift constantly, trying to peer into the shadows beyond the path, darting from place to place.

"Please my Lady, do not use names" he spoke, his voice almost a whisper. "This is no game. He should have been here my Lady. He said if he was not here then he was either being followed or dead. He said if he was not here I was to take you back to the palace and not leave your side until you had entered it. We should not remain standing my Lady, the streets are dangerous at night, even for guards." He lowered his voice again "Especially for us. Please let us go."

Anna did not care anymore if she lost her composure or not, she openly glared at the officer and her tone was fast passing from irritation to outrage.

"He will wish he were dead after this affront! And you! Be lucky you are entirely too forgettable for me to report you in all this. Now, get back to your post before I take further notice of you!"

Infuriated, she left for the Imperial Palace with her protectors in tow, vowing Ioannis would pay dearly for this.

---------------------------------------------------------

Verina found Anna pacing in her quarters, so furious she barely acknowledged her confidant. By that time, both women had changed their clothes and Verina looked the part of a bored servant. Moving closer to the younger woman, she used a soothing voice.

"What is wrong Anna? You look utterly distraught."

Anna nearly exploded. "Its that bastard..." she struggled with the name, nearly choking on it. "Kalameteros. He played me, now I owe a favor to Alexandros, and for what? For nothing! He made me waste my time, placed me in possible danger, abused...."

Verina had stopped listening and it took all of her self-control not to smile. That's it my dear, the harder you fall, the higher I will rise...

Constantinopol, the last morning of the Senate sessions.

As the voting sessions were about to come to the end. The outcomes of the votes started to seem obvious to the various senators. After talks with several senators and listening carefully to the rumors, circulating the Senate, the outcomes of several votes became clear inside the head of Ioannis.

Ioannis had not heard about the princess after few days and his mood had become sour, as he thought that the reason was that interests of Anna were somewhere else. Aware of his duties, the young Kantakouzinos had been circulating the merchant quarters of Constantinopol all morning. Purchasing armor, weapons, horses and provisions for his few personal retainers. After just buying grain, enough to supply his small unit of mounted men for about a month. Ioannis decided to have a tea near the ports and sat down to a tea shop, which had nice view over the Golden Horn. The pears were full of men loading and unpacking goods to the ships that frequently sailed in and out of the docks.

As Ioannis was about to have a sip from his tea, a man approached him and passed quickly and unnoted a letter to Ioannis table, which Ioannis opened after viewing the familiar seal briefly, with small smile on his face. His facial expression turned first to show disappointment and after reading the whole letter, Ioannis stuffed the letter on his pocket and marched to a near by jewelry store, with an expression on his face, which shoved if he had became aware of his destiny without much control over it.

Around noon after returning from the market Ioannis wrote a letter himself and handed it to Naksos with a a small bag with it.Saying.

"Deliver these two items to the Princess so those will reach her after the Senate session is closed. Meantime call in my personal retainers. We have some planning and practicing to do."

Constantinople, 1081

In the ninth hour of the day, when most people look forward to ending that day's labors, is when the labors of those who practice dishonest trades are only set to begin. It is in the ninth hour that one of the city's spy rings holds their daily councils, where they plan the activities for that day, which is to say that night. The meeting is always in a different place, and the members do not learn where until the seventh hour. There are only five core members, who share the profit and participate in the council, but there are many other associates who are paid fixed amounts for their efforts. Today the meeting is in the attic of a residential building somewhere in the city. The five sit around a small, square table.

At the head of the table sits Gregorios (Krikor) the Armenian. It is said that Gregorios has been a spy all his life, and that his first successful mission came when he was but four years of age, when he discovered his mother's adultery and sold that information to his own father for a hefty sum. He was a military and political spy for most of his life, at first for the Armenians, but also the Romans, Turks, Saracens, and anyone else who had money. It is said that in spite of this, he was always reliable and loyal to whomever was paying him at the time, but upon completing his mission, he would switch sides if better money was offered. Needless to say, this made him a very effective spy, for he was familiar with all the major powers in the region. Sometime past his fiftieth year, he decided to retire in Constantinople, which he chose because it was a major center of trade, and with material goods came also information from many distant lands. He was, in fact, offered the position of diplomat by the Romans since he spoke Greek, Armenian, Arabic, Turkish, and was quite familiar with Persian and Georgian too. He declined, however, not wishing to completely abandon his trade, he became involved in the local espionage community, building up a trustworthy group around him. He himself no longer goes out at night and actively engages in subterfuge. He often says that when a man's beard becomes gray enough that he can be seen at ten yards during a new moon, he has become too old for espionage, and that point he has passed many years ago. Instead, Gregory is the mastermind behind the operations of this ring, and is the de facto leader.

Next to him on his right sits Nikolaos, who is the youngest son of a moderately influential and fairly wealthy merchant in Constantinople, and stands to inherit very little of the family fortune. It is therefore that he turned to less than honorable pursuits. His famous name and fancy clothes can get him through the front door of places where the other spies would have to sneak in and not be seen by anyone while inside. This is very useful for him, for he is far from being a master at subterfuge, but is quite well adept at craftily manipulating people in conversation, and is very capable of realistically portraying many different identities. He is always sent when polite negotiations or questioning are required, and is also good at blending in with an upper class crowd, for he knows at least when to laugh and when to react, even if the subject matter is philosophy or poetry. He also knows enough classical Latin to follow along if some should decide to switch to it to prove how smart they are. Though he can blend in with a stationary crowd, he is rarely expected to follow and observe anyone. He is effectively the second in command.

Next to Nikolaos sits Pavlos (Pavle), who comes from the land of the Serbs, only son to a minor Serbian knight. His mother died at childbirth, and his father in battle against the Bulgars when the son was aged eleven. Having no particular reason then to stay at his home, he left and eventually wound up in Constantinople. Being on his own from a young age, he has acquired a resourcefulness that only a few possess. It is said that he once stole a fancy tunic embroidered with gold from a rich man while he was wearing it in the middle of the market in broad daylight. It fetched a good profit. In his thirties now, he has acquired many skills befitting a spy. He can gain access to any building short of the Imperial Palace, he can follow and observe people for weeks without being noticed, he knows how to use the shadows to his advantage, and at night he is said to be invisible. He prefers to work alone and does most of the subtle work for the group.

On the other side of the table, on Gregorios' left, sits Eirene (Irina). Eirene is a Slav from the far north, though even she is not sure exactly where. Her village was raided by Varangians when she was little, and she was carried off and sold as a slave. She was taken to Kiev, where she escaped, and stowed away on a merchant ship which took her to Constantinople. She is the youngest in the group, though fully mature and wise beyond her years. Unfortunately, it is impossible for her to remain inconspicuous in a crowd, for the Greeks are not used to seeing people with such a light complexion and hair. Of course, this can also be used as a distraction, and anyone who makes the mistake of looking into her eyes quickly becomes oblivious to his surroundings. However, since no one who sees her face will ever forget it, it makes her difficult to use in this way more than once without drawing suspicion. She is an expert at very subtle seduction, and can use it well to obtain information, as men tend to be quick to trust her, usually to their own demise. She refuses to sleep with anyone to obtain information, but feigning a small bit of interest is enough for most purposes.

Across from Gregorios sits Ajax, who was named Dorotheos by his parents, but no one who values the structural integrity of his collarbone calls him by that name. A native brigand of Constantinople, his stature fits his nickname well. He spent several years in the Roman army as an infantryman, but left after Manzikert and returned to Constantinople. He is the one who is sent when most impolite negotiation or questioning is required. Sometimes he is sent when there are people who know too much, or whose actions are being adverse to the group's activities. In general, he is useful when anything that requires a complete lack of tact needs to be done. Oddly enough, he can be used to follow people, even though he is conspicuous, because people are more than willing to assume that he just happens to be walking in the same direction as them if that means that they won't have to confront him about following them. He scares small children and also fully grown adults.

These are the members of the Spyridon Mikellides spy ring. They can be hired to spy on anyone, and are currently working on three cases, the nature of which I would rather not write lest it be considered adverse to their activities. They are good, but they are expensive. Finding them is difficult, but not impossible. There is a pub somewhere in the city away from the main roads, near the Wall of Constantine. It is not easy to find, but once you have found it, you will know it, for it has the letter μ painted on the door. You must come there on a tuesday evening, and stay until it closes in the third hour of the night. When you are asked to leave, ask to see Spyridon Mikellides, but do not expect anyone to know who you are speaking of. Having done that, leave and stand near the door. Eirene will come presently, and feigning prostitution will ask you to join her. This is done so as to not draw undue attention, for it is a common occurrence in that part of the town. Now this is important, for it is the point at which most contact attempts fail, you must respond in the affirmative without any emotion. You must not smile or say anything else, and you must certainly not touch her. If you do this right, you will be taken to Nikolaos, but will otherwise be taken to Ajax. Nikolaos will be interested in discussing espionage opportunities with you, but Ajax will generally not.

Constantinople, 1081

The Mikellides spy ring was thus assembled in council. Here follows the transcript of their meeting, the part that deals with the case of Apionnas Vringas, of interest to many.

Gregorios: Yes, very good. Now then, what of Apionnas Vringas?

Pavlos: I've had a few breakthroughs in the observation. I did myself observe him through a window of his house, praying in the manner that Muslims do. This explains why he often returned to his house in between errands, I think they are required to pray often.

Gregorios: Yes, it varies with sect, but can be five times or more per day. This information will be very useful to our sponsor.

Nikolaos: It will, and it will make him want to sponsor us further. He mentioned to me that he needed proof. I do believe his goal is to get this man expelled from the Senate, if only to ensure that he is not an Egyptian spy.

Pavlos: Proof will be difficult. He seems to be skilled in subterfuge himself. I think he is aware of being observed, for he has began to engage in what can only be described as counter-espionage. He has began taking random paths to places he normally goes, and sometimes suddenly changes direction while walking in the street, and then hurries away, looking back to see whom it has prompted to do the same. I doubt he has much blatant evidence laying around his house either, and I doubt I would survive the encounter if he should catch me sneaking in. It may be worth a try if he is ever away from his house at night, but that has not happened yet as far as I was able to see.

Gregorios: Well, it seems like a time to reduce the observation activities, it will become more difficult to gain anything if he becomes aware. Continue to have someone observe his house, and look for an opportunity to sneak in if he is away by night. Keep the observation only at a distance to see if there are any new people he interacts with, for I think we have passed the stage of initial observation. Before we move on, is there anything else you observed?

Pavlos: Yes, I was able to overhear one of the conversations with his Arabic friends. I thought it might be in Arabic, so I did bring Nasir with me, and we sat near them in a pub as they discussed. They were quiet, but from what Nasir was able to pick up, they are considering returning to Egypt, with his friends pushing for that decision, while he wishes to stay in Constantinople.

Gregorios: Excellent, this will be of great interest to our sponsor as well. Now then, let us speak of future plans. He has not been very careless in public, and we will have to get to the people around him. His family is right out, I think they would just report to him any approach we made to them, and same goes for his Saracen friends.

Eirene: That leaves Anna Komnena then.

Gregorios: Indeed, I don't believe we have seen him interact with anyone else, which is fine as there is great potential in getting information through Anna. I doubt she would wish to cooperate with us directly, however.

Ajax: Those guards are always around her. They were certainly close enough to hear when we saw Vringas at the church.

Gregorios: You know one among them, Alexandros was it?

Ajax: Yes, he was with the Varangians in the Manzikert campaign. He did once at that time challenge me to a fight, and --

Eirene: Oh, come now, Dorotheos, you've told that story a hundred times. You're big and bad, we know.

Ajax: Yes, well, he is one of the captains among the Varangian Guard now. I've dealt with him a few times since, he can be persuaded as long as it allows for his own advancement. I had a drink with him a few weeks ago, and he was complaining that someone else was promoted to the overall Varangian commander, while he was stuck in charge of the women's quarters in the palace. I think that's good for what we need him here for.

Gregorios: Interesting. He might be willing to help us if we can get him promoted, and we just might, for the easiest way to get promoted in the military is if your superior is shown to be incompetent. If he can get some trustworthy men, and he probably can, to be in Anna's escort at one point, we may conspire with him to let us fake an assassination attempt in public. We might come close only to be stopped by his soldiers at the last moment. This could easily lead to the dismissal of the current commander, and furthermore, would make the next one keep a very, very close eye on Anna, and thus be able to hear everything if Vringas should decide to meet with Anna again. In return for our help in getting him promoted, Alexandros would report this information to us. This is definitely an avenue we should explore.

Nikolaos: I agree. There is one more avenue we may have. After we saw Anna and Vringas, I looked to acquire information about Anna, and was told something of interest by the Theodosian ring. It seems they observed one of Anna's servants out and about late in the day, and meeting in secret with a certain Senator, whose identity they did not wish to reveal to me. In any case, they claimed she was one of Anna's closer servants, and were certain from their observation that she was conspiring behind her back. They did not know what her name was, but they know what she looks like. They said they would be willing to send a man who saw her so that he might point her out to us, and then we may contact her.

Gregorios: Excellent. Nikolaos, write letters addressed to Alexandros and Anna's servant that might compel them best to help us. Ajax will deliver the letter to his friend, and Pavlos will observe the palace with the man who can recognize Anna's servant, so that he might hand off the letter to her if they see her.

Eirene: Excuse me, but does it make sense to go through this much trouble to spy on Anna, the Princess, just to get information about a lowly Senator who may not even wish to see her again?

Gregorios: Ha! No, not if taken at face value. But spying on Anna may have its own benefits beyond what information we may collect about Vringas. Anna is very popular, and that makes information about her valuable. Ostensibly, we are collecting information about Vringas for Sir Ampelas, but if in the process of this and with his sponsorship, we have the opportunity to collect information about Anna, that is not an opportunity we should pass. It is once we have information that we might find persons wishing to purchase it, and I somehow believe that finding such persons will not be overly difficult. But I was going to suggest another avenue we might attack, which involves Apionnas directly. Would you be willing to attempt to befriend him, given what we know about him thus far?

Eirene: Yes, I have no particular objections. The only issue is that he might be leaving on campaign soon, as the Senate session is about to come to an end.

Gregorios: Indeed, that will complicate things. Let us see what we can make of it in any case.

With that, the discussion of the case of Apionnas Vringas ended, and they began discussing other matters.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Conspiracy includes AG and TheFlax

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

For a better understanding of this story, read the related post in the Hippodrome first.

The Hippodrome, Constantinople, 1081

Anna rushed through the corridors that led to the Kathisma, having just received word her father wanted to meet her there. She found it odd, yet had no reason to doubt the message, and had wanted to change her clothes, as she was not dressed for the public, but the servant had been most insistent. She wondered what was so pressing that her father could not wait for her to at least get dressed in something more appropriate.

Once Anna arrived at the Kathisma, she was utterly confused, for no one was to be found. She would have been less suprised to see someone else than her father than simple emptyness. She looked around, in case she had missed something, to no avail. Was this some sort of jest? She would get to the bottom of this, first Kalameteros had wasted her time and now this!

Her outrage was curtailed by approaching footsteps. Was it her father? She turned around swiftly and was horrified to see a servant with a knife in hand. To her credit, she did not scream out, but in fright she stepped back until she came upon the railing behind her. The killer advanced on her purposefully, his face carrying no expression.

Knowing she was doomed, Anna glared at him in defiance. The man returned the stare with cold brown eyes, promising her only death. He was right next to her, ready to end it all, his arm ready to strike. Anna stood against the railing, unable to say a word, she was paralysed and accepted the inevitability of her death. Yet, when it was time, the man hesitated. She would never know why, but it was that moment of hesitation which saved her.

Something smashed into the back of her attacker, pushing him into her. She felt the sharp pain of the knife in her left shoulder and sank to the ground. Gasping, she desperatly clutched the weapon with her right hand and tried to pull it out, in vain. Blood flowed in her clothing and onto the man on top of her. She watched her rescuer as her rose, it was Alexandros! She sobbed and chuckled in relief as more varangians arrived, taking her and her attacker back to the Palace.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Written in collusion with FLYdude.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

This story is a collaboration between TheFlax, Ramses II CP, YourLordandConqueror, BananaBob, and Privateerkev

A few weeks later:

Over the past days of travel, Anna had gotten used to the rhythmic swaying of the dromon carrying her to Cyprus. At first, reading or writing of any kind at almost been impossible, but with proper self-control, she had adapted her senses to compensate for the odd movement. Seated at a solid wooden table and illuminated by three large candles affixed to it, she had spent the last hours immersed in a book about naval warfare. The choice had seemed appropriate at the time and once she understood the basics of the subject, the rest came easily enough.

In her mind, she could now clearly picture Arab vessels outmaneuvered by dromons using their lethal Greek fire to potent effect. The vessels instantly took aflame, their crews screaming as the unquenchable fire made its way everywhere, tearing down sail and mast alike in a terrible incendiary blaze. Two of the unfortunate crafts veered wildly off-course and...

Anna jumped as she heard a solid knock on her cabin door. Calming herself and taking a deep breath, she called out in a confident voice.

"Enter!"

The door went half-open before stopping so she could barely see the head of the dromon's captain. His tone showed is apparent discomfort in dealing with her.

"Highness, we are arriving in Cyprus very soon and should be docking in mere moments."

She needed only to nod for him to retreat back to deck of the ship. Placing the book back where she had found it, thinking it sad she would probably never have the opportunity of completely reading it. Remembering how in her last visit on the deck the wind had blown away her veil, she secured it tightly. For this day she had chosen a silk robe of pastels ranging from a light pink to an equally light blue, embroidered with light yellow motifs, giving her a less somber look than when she last met Makedonios.

As she appeared on the dromon's deck, she gazed upon the island of Cyprus for the first time as well as the fishing village in which the ship had docked. This was a drastic change of scenery from that of the capital, to say the least. Nevertheless, Anna was not one to be attached to greatly to the comforts of imperial life and found she appreciated the calm scenery. Sailors carrying her two chests in tow, she made her way off the ship and unto the dock, hoping to notice someone who had been sent to greet her.

Makedonios walked down the dock dressed in his nicest plain nondescript clothes. His heart had lept when he received Anna's letter saying that she was coming to Cyprus to tour the island. He looked forward to a chance to finally talk to her again face to face. But that would have to wait.

He saw her standing on the dock looking as radiant as ever. Walking over to her with a warm smile on his face he said,

"Your Highness, welcome to Cyprus. I trust your voyage went well. We should go to the ChapterHouse so you can rest and get a good meal. Plus you can meet the other men in the Order. While we have all taken a vow of chastity, and are not used to female visitors, you are the Princess and they will be honored to meet you."

Anna closed the gap between them and gave him a heartfelt smile in return, before greeting him in a soft voice.

"Makedonios! It is good to see you once more. I trust you have secured us transportation? I must say I am famished, sea voyage fare does not agree with me."

She montioned Makedonios to lead her all the while signaling the sailors carrying her luggage to follow.

"I have indeed. This way. And you will enjoy the food. Being on an island does have the advantage of having readily available seafood. Also, I have made preparations for your security. There are seven Order members with each over a dozen personal guards. I also command 5 regiments of men garrisoned in the nearby castle. Nothing short of an army invasion will threaten you while your here."

A short trip later, they arrive at the Order's ChapterHouse and go inside.

Vissarionas ek Lesvou is standing just outside the Order's Chapter House entrance discussing a task he has for Rafi, his errand boy. The child is still grubby as young boys tend to become, but his old clothes have been replaced with more suitable garments during his travels with Strator Vissarionas and his cheeks have filled out with health. Though he still does not officially carry any token of service to the Order he is wearing a marker on each shoulder indicating his loyalty to the nobles of Lesvou.

Upon noting the approach of the Grandmaster, Vissarionas immediately thought that he should dismiss Rafi and issue a salute. Then he became aware of the Princess.

Several moments pass in which both boys are struck dumb, before at last Vissarionas recovers his manners and kneels in the manner of a soldier, on one knee there in the street, with his head bowed and his eyes firmly on the ground. Rafi instantly follows suit, dropping to both knees and bowing his head so low it is a wonder he doesn't overbalance himself and fall prostrate to into the dirt.

Silently the two wait, far enough back from the entrance as to not draw too much attention, as the Princess and the Grandmaster pass into the building.

Then, grinning like a kid with a pocket full of candy, Vissarionas nudges Rafi and says,

'I think that was the Princess Anna! My God, I've never seen anything so lovely in all my days...'

Rafi is still struck dumb at how near the royal lady passed, and can only gaze at his master in delight.

Shaking himself back to sense, Vissarionas' face takes on a thoughtful mien, and he kneels to whisper to Rafi,

'Take this purse and go down to market street. There should be some of the flower ladies out by now, and I want you to buy every flower they have available, then engage their services to bring them here and arrange them along the stairs. When the Princess departs she should be enveloped with the wonderful smells of the rich variety of flowers available on the island. In particular you must secure a quantity of athanatos, as the locals have it, the undying flower in celebration of the Princess' eternal grace and beauty.'

'Go now Rafi, this must be quick work, I've no true idea how long she shall be within!'

As the boy scurries off in the direction of the markets Vissarionas steadies himself, brushing imaginary dirt from his rough, simple clothing, and walks up to the doors. Before he can enter, however, he must again visibly take hold of himself. Then, with a warm, slightly foolish looking smile, he ducks his head and steps inside.

Makedonios walks the Princess past his kneeling Sergeant and a small boy. I'll have to ask Vissarionas about that later, he thought.

Entering the double doors of the ChapterHouse, they arrive in the Grand Hall. Seeing that dinner is not quite ready yet, Makedonios turns to Anna.

"Sorry but it will still be a few minutes before dinner. If you want, I can give you the grand tour. There isn't much here except this hall you see, our sleeping quarters, a small chapel, and weapon storage. We do have a library though. A lot of the books were left over from when the island was held by the Muslims."

Anna smiled lightly at the mention of a library and the possibility of books she new nothing about.

"The library would suit me best, I am intrigued to see what sort of collection you have amassed."

Makedonios talked as he walked her towards the library.

"Sure thing. We have books in Arabic. We have many on the Levant. Books on Byzantine history. I think a couple of my men are in there now. The Order is a "bookish" lot even though we lack formal education."

As they walk in, Anna sees a large room with bookshelves lining all the walls and some freestanding shelves in the middle. There are a couple of seats by a fireplace that are occupied by a couple of Sergeants who are too lost in their reading to notice who has entered.

It was not the most impressive library she had seen but it was indeed well stocked. Ignoring the men already in the room, she walked slowly beside the row of books nearest to her, taking notice of each title. Without turning she addressed him in an oddly dismissive tone.

"Arabic you say? I know not that tongue."

Then, pausing to face him she added more cordially. "Do you have any recommendations? In Greek of course."

Noticing that she seemed to be feeling out of place, Makedonios remembered something that was in the library.

"Hold on, I think there was something left here by the previous owners."

He walked over to one corner in the back and reached up to the top of a shelf where some parchments were. Taking one down he walked back to Anna.

"This was left here by people who used to rule this area. I am not exactly sure what it is. I walked around the island looking for some of the older scholars and I came across an elderly Arab who spoke Greek. He said he believed this page came from the Cypria. I'm not quite sure what that is. I'm sorry but we're venturing outside of my knowledge base."

Makedonios carefully handed the sheet over to her.

Taking the text gently, Anna moved nearer to a source of light in order to examine it thoroughly. After a few moments, she seemed willing to comment. Instead, she furrowed her brow in deep concentration and fixated the text, losing herself completely in this literary relic.

Makedonios silently stood at a respectful distance as she looked at the parchment. He liked seeing the studious side of her but he kept his face neutral.

Iakovos rubs his eyes, and finally looks up from his book. He nearly jumps when he sees Makedonios and the Princess inside the library, but he quickly regains his composure. Standing up sharply, Iakovos salutes the Grandmaster. "Forgive me, I hadn't noticed your entrance m'lord." Iakovos bows deeply at the Princess, asking in a curious tone, "May I inquire as to whom visits us with such noble bearing?"

It seemed at first Anna had not understood him for she was still focused on the text before her. A minute or so passed silently by, before she realized they were waiting on her to say something. Turning her gaze on the newcomer, she observed him intently, straining for recollection of his words.

"I..." She stopped, having no idea what he had said. Anna looked to Makedonios, her expression clearly asking for his help.

Makedonios quickly picked up on the cue and spoke,

"Sorry, I did not want to bother either of you while you were reading. Let me make introductions. This is one of my Sergeants, Iakovos ek Kallipoleos. Iakovos, this is Her Highness, Princess Anna."

Pointing at the other man in the library,

"Your Highness, the other man in the chair over there is still buried in a book about the mathematics of siege engines and he is Nathanial ek Korintou."

Anna produced a practiced smile for the sergeant in front of her.

"A pleasure, Iakovos. You must also be wondering why I am here?."

Iakovos smiles warmly. "Indeed. Why have you come to the humble headquarters of the Order? I would hazard that it is not for literary enlightenment, our library is still quite small, and I am sure you have read most of them. I of course have been through all of the books, so if you if have any interests, I can easily find it for you."

"I wished to meet for myself the brave men who will join Makedonios on his expedition to retake Antioch, for the Empire and my father." She gave a sidelong glance at the whole of the library. "As for your library, even in a haystack it is possible to find a gem." To emphasize her point, she nodded at the text she held while finishing her last sentence.

Iakovos peered at the book Anna held. "Is that the Cypria? A treasure indeed, although not comparable to some of the things the Imperial Library has. I have not read deeply into the Cypria as of yet, I reserve such works until I have time for myself." Iakovos turns to Makedonios. "Grandmaster? I have the plans for the church ready, and we have the workers. With the money we will receive, we can begin construction immediately."

Makedonios looked pleased at the news.

"Good good. All we need then is for the Emperor to approve of the project. As for the Cypria, I'm afraid we just have a page or two. It is pretty hard to find from what I hear."

Turning to Anna, he explained, "I'm letting Iakovos administer the castle. He has a better head for this stuff than I. One must not be too proud to delegate." With that, Makedonios smiled while a little embarrassed.

Anna nodded dismissively, she cared little for architectural planning. Handing back the fragment of text back to Makedonios, she queried him politely.

"I would believe the deipmon is ready, will your sergeants be joining us Makedonios? I will share my examinations of this text with you over a hearty meal. "

Unflappable as always, Makedonios replied calmly,

"You'll have to forgive everyone. They're all busy planning for the campaign. I've arranged for it to just be the two of us."

He stepped aside and waved gently with his hand towards the door.

"Shall we?"

Anna nodded once more and headed for the door, easily finding her way to the dining room.

By the time they had gotten back to the great hall, everything was ready. One table had been prepared for two. An array of seafood was laid out along with a plate of Cyprian cheese.

Makedonios pulled a chair out. "Your Highness." Anna sat down and he walked around to his side.

"I didn't know what you liked so I had a bit of everything made up. There is a good assortment of seafood. Calamari, Octopus, and sea bass. I was able to get steak over here in case you don't like seafood. The local cheese, Halloumi, is a delicacy around these parts. And of course there are vegetables. I apologize at the lack of fruit. We have a hard time bringing it in and it is too expensive for people on the island to afford. Also I hope you like mint, we tend to flavor everything with it. If not, I made sure one of everything was made without it."

"Oh yes, for a drink, we have tea, both minted and without. Water of course. We don't have any wine. None of us drink."

Anna gave him a genuine smile of appreciation.

"You've thought of everything it seems."

Glancing at the various foods assembled she wondered at which she would taste first. She eyed the calamari and octopus with interest, before focusing on the cheese.

"I'll simply have water. Will you lead us in prayer before the meal?"

"I'd be honored."

Both bow their heads and Makedonios leads them in a short thanks to the Lord for their bounty.

The prayer over, Anna eyed the assembled food as a famished predator. Quickly she made her choice, waiting for Makedonios to serve her.

"I'll have some of the octopus and that cheese you said was a specific food of this island." Pausing, she changed subject. "The text you showed me was a fascinating read, although I am as of yet unsure if it is authentic or not, something in the style of writing is off. If I have the opportunity, I will most certainly study it further."

Makedonios served food onto Anna's plate as he asked her what it was that was fascinating about that particular document. He enjoyed the chance to talk to her about something that had nothing to do with politics or the Senate.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

This story is a collaboration between TheFlax, Rowan, and Privateerkev

And a week after that:

For a week, Makedonios's and Anna's entourage toured the countryside of Cyprus. The Princess wanted to visit the people of Cyprus and they were more than happy to have her. Since the island had been retaken from the Arabs over a hundred years ago, the people of Cyprus had felt as if they were treated like a backwater post of the Empire. Having the daughter of the Emperor visit with them helped dispel some of those hurt feelings.

But, surrounded by guards and servants, Makedonios and Anna had not had a chance to have a private talk. Tonight he hoped to change that. He purposely made sure the last stop on her tour was his a strip of land that he owned over on the northeast corner of the island. The group rode up to a gate that was guarded by members of the army units that were stationed on Cyprus. He turned to the Princess,

"Here we are your Highness. I know we've been wanting a chance to talk to each other the whole time you've been here. I've made extra precautions to ensure privacy and security. Beyond that gate is my private beach. It is guarded at all times and is private property. Being the lord of a province does have it's privileges. I have men patrolling the area and due to the terrain and landscaping, it is impossible to peer in from the outside."

Makedonios gets out of the carriage and holds out his hand to help the Princess down.

Anna took the offered hand and gracefully steeped out of the carriage.

"How thoughtful of you." She gave him a smile, waiting for Makedonios to lead her to the beach.

First Makedonios leaned over to one of his Sergeants, "Vartholomaios, your in charge of the guard. See that no one makes it through the perimeter." The Order member simply nodded in a way that showed quiet competence.

Makedonios then led Anna through the gateway. Going down a path lined with bushes, they came out onto a hill overlooking a beach. The beach was the very northeastern tip of the island of Cyprus and commanded quite a view.

"This is where I come to think. Beyond the horizon is the Holy Land."

Anna stopped to take in the view. She realized this place must be why Makedonios is always so calm and controlled, one could truly lose himself in the peaceful scenery.

"I believe I've never had the pleasure of enjoying something quite like this." She looked around, as if searching for something out of place. "It is so quite and serene here, thank you for sharing this with me Makedonios." She did not usually thank anyone, for all services rendered to her were only part of the order of things. Yet, this time, she felt it was appropriate and necessary.

Makedonios bowed his head slightly. "It is my pleasure. I thought you could use the chance to relax a little after everything that has happened."

At the mention of the attack on her person, she unconsciously moved a hand over her left shoulder, where the blade had struck her. Even though she maintained a smile, the memory of that event brought her pain that could be seen through her eyes.

Realizing what he brought up, Makedonios regretted his earlier comment.

"I'm sorry about what happened to you. I wish I could have been there. At least your scar is somewhere that can be covered up."

With that, he points to his face where a gash can clearly be seen.

At the mention of a scar she shook her head lightly.

"You misunderstand, the wound itself does not bother me. What troubles me is what it represents... How will I ever feel safe again in the Palace?"

Anna was on the verge of breaking down, but managed to hold her composure. Nevertheless, her voice conveyed sadness and bitterness. "Why would anyone wish me harm?"

The question was not entirely truthful, she had her suspicions. Yet, she found the whole thing terribly unfair. What had she done that warranted her death?

Makedonios nodded. "Your right, the real wounds are within. I still have nightmares about the day I got my scar. All you can do is face your fears. Or they will control you. As for who would wish you harm, unfortunately the list of suspects is probably rather long. For better or worse, you are seen as a route to power and leverage against your father. Those who wish to hurt him, have reason to hurt you. Those who wish to stop you from getting close to their political enemies, have reason to hurt you. I wish I had better answers."

"I suppose you are right." She sighed. "Let us forget about that, dwelling on it will do me no good. Let us enjoy the moment." Without saying another word, she led Makedonios closer to the sea.

Nodding, he followed her and watched the waves wash in for a moment. Finally he turned to her.

"There has been something I have been wanting to tell you. I want you to know I have developed feelings for you. Now I don't expect anything and I'm not asking for anything. I'm sure you have enough going on right now. But I felt you needed to know. I've come to realize what a wonderful person you are and I have started to care for you. A lot."

Anna jerked around suddenly to face him, as if someone had just struck her. Anguish was evident in her features as she slowly backed away from Makedonios in denial.

"No... not you too. No!"

While many men might wilt or plead, he just stood there calmly. He shook his head.

"It's not like that. This isn't some infatuation or play at power. And it certainly isn't a marriage proposal. This is simply how I feel. Others see you as some prize to win. I don't see you that way. But I do care for you and I thought you deserved to know."

Anna stopped and tried to swallow back her emotions while a hint of sadness crept in her eyes.

"Why?"

"Because if there will ever be honesty and trust between us, that kind of thing can't remain hidden. I'd basically be lying to you every minute of every day. And I won't do that." To punctuate it, Makedonios shakes his head while saying the last sentence.

"Yet, you know it cannot be, you with your oath and me with my duty. I appreciate you Makedonios, but I will never be able to return the feelings you have expressed."

With that Makedonios smiled.

"You might learn the hard way that feelings aren't so easily commanded. You feel how you feel. Do you think I would have chosen to feel this way? To be so conflicted with my faith? To scare someone who I have been starting to feel is a friend? As for my oath, the Order's Charter actually has a provision for this possibility but it is moot if you don't feel the same way. It is enough for me that you know the truth."

Anna looked down, almost in shame.

"Nevertheless, your candor pushes me to examine what I feel. I fear if I look too deeply into myself, a river of emotions will pour out, flooding all reason. My... my feelings must remain irrelevant if I am to perform my duty. All I can say is that I have not yet met a worthier man to marry..."

She was in turmoil, unsure of herself. These last month had overwhelmed her and have profoundly changed her life. She turned her back to Makedonios, wishing he would not see her growing distress and confusion.

With pain and sorrow evident in his voice he spoke,

"I'm sorry your duty forces you to ignore your own feelings. In some ways, I feel you have a harder job than I do. No one asks me to deny who I am."

The words made her reconsider her statements. It was not impossible for her to have feelings for someone else, but until she was married, it would make things unduly complicated.

"If your feelings are true then you should ask the Basileus for my hand. As a wife I will love you, as a princess I cannot..."

For once, something she said finally shocked him. His mouth gaped a little bit before he could speak.

"But I won't do that until I know you feel the same way. Maybe it is not important to some people. But is important to me. Your not the only one with duties. I have a duty to the Order. And while there is a provision that will allow me to continue to serve them, it would be in a very different capacity. I have started something with them and I need to follow through on it. I won't change that unless the person I care for feels the same way about me."

"If you don't feel the same way about me now, I understand. Then we move on. But if you did..." Makedonios left the sentence hanging there. It was clear that the answer from her could change both of their lives forever.

Anna looked to the vast expanse of the sea, trying to find her focus. She wanted him to ask her father for her hand in marriage, yet she owed him the truth.

"I do not know myself what I feel. I like you very much Makedonios, but I do not know what love is or if I have any. The only thing I can say with certainty, is that I would rather have you as a husband instead of any other. Isn't that enough?"

Hearing those words from her made his heart melt.

"Yes it is. I can't tell you how much I appreciate your honesty with me. That was a very brave thing you just did."

All of a sudden they were interrupted by Vartholomaios who was walking up the path. Makedonios said to him, "I thought I gave orders not to be disturbed."

His Sergeant just handed him an envelop with the Emperor's seal and walked back to the gate. Opening the letter and reading it, Makedonios looked up.

"In light of what you've just told me your Highness, you definitely need to know this. The Emperor just gave the navy orders to move my Order to Antioch... immediately. I must say, I am surprised to get the orders to move so quickly. It seems your talks with him on my behalf might have helped."

Anna faced him once more. "I told my father you would be a staunch supporter of his if he granted you that fleet. Did I err?"

Makedonios shook his head no, "No, you did not err. But I didn't think it would work. I was under the impression that he didn't like me very much."

"But I thought you had to know that I am leaving soon. I'm a soldier. If you still want me to ask your father, I will ask him for your hand. I have no idea if he'll actually agree to it. But you have been brave for me so now it is my turn."

Anna took a few steps foreward, returning closer to Makedonios. "At worst, if he denies you, things will stay the same as they are right now. You should not fear in asking him, you certainly won't be the first and I doubt he will take offense."

Makedonios nodded.

"Your right. It's better that we got this out in the open between us, no matter how it goes."

Anna looked back to the sea. "Now, if you don't mind, I would like to take the time to enjoy this scenery I will soon have to leave." With that, she took slow steps towards the deep blue expanse. Once she was near the water, she sat down and simply stared into the horizon.

Makedonios followed her down, and while maintaining a respectable space in between them, he sat down next to her.

Western Anatolia, 1083

Ioannis nodded with satisfaction as the rebel flag was lowered and the gates opened. So far, either the sight of their Caesar or of his modest army was sufficient to recapture rebellious cities without a fight.

"First Brusa, and now Cyzicus. It appears that we shouldn't have much trouble reducing Canakkale." remarked one of Ioannis' retainers.

Ioannis smiled as he turned, "Yes, but it's taken us over a year just to restore Mysia to Roman control, and what have we to show for it? Certainly nothing of strategic importance. So we march on Canakkale, or I should say Dardenellia, which is vital to Constantinople's defence."

Methodios had set up camp with his men on the side of a small hillock. The top was crowned by a stand of trees, granting enough cover to get a good view downslope to the village without being seen.

The slope leading down to the village was covered with almost uncrossable terrain, thus making sure that no shepherd would lead his beasts this way, providing Methodios and his men the perfect shelter the sought.

Durazzo... That was the name the Italians had given to the town, unable to pronounce its Greek name of Dyrrakhion...

Methodios was crouching in the bushes, observing from the top of the hill, the militia drilling in a field just outside the city limits.

The wind sometimes carried to him the orders from the captain leading the exercise, full of the lilting Italian accent.

The men seemed Greek for the most part, though many of them were dressed in the more gaudy Italian fashion, leavig Methodios in doubt as to their origins.

"It will be almost too easy... Those men don't stand a chance in a fight... I hope their captain sees sense and surrenders" Methodios thoughts were interrupted by a noise of rustling leaves nearby. Not bothering to move, knowing that it could only be one of his men, he was nevertheless surprised to see that it was Adrastos, one of the men he had left behind on is way from Thessalonica, to warn him of any followers.

For Durazzo might be an almost worthless village, but some people would like to use it to make a political statement and this at the cost of its mainly Greek population's lives and few riches.

This Methodios could not bear... That was not the Empire he had served his whole life... He would protect them whatever the cost... Hence the Edict he had proposed in the Diet and that had created such a ruckus... Here was proof that he had stepped on a few people's toes.

Turning to face Adrastos, he said :"What news ?"

"Strator," answered Adrastos, with a fist to heart salute "I have observed Neokaisareitis. He has taken a more southernly route and does not go a fast pace, he may still veer for Dur..." stumbling upon the word " Dyrrakhion but I think he may be headed for the coast..."

"What of the others ?" asked Methodios

"They are headed this way, though they are burdened by a baggage train that slows them down. They should be here by tomorrow evening at the latest."

"By Achilles' heel !!!" Methodios sweared. "Have you seen any Imperial messenger headed this way?"

"No, not one..."

"Go back to camp... Get some food and wine... You earned it"

Saluting once more and with a grin spread across his face, Adrastos turned on his heels and went down towards the hidden camp, leaving Methodios to ponder his options.

"The Basileos has been quite clear. Dyrrakhion is off limits to anyone unless expressly ordered to capture it." Methodios considered. "Though I respect his will like God's will, I fear that Arianitis and Monomachos, if not Neokaisareitis, may force my decision."

Taking a last glance at the militia maneuvering down on the plain, Methodios reached his decision and walked back to camp.

"Orders or no orders... Tomorrow, we ride to battle..."

Aegean sea 1083:

https://i187.photobucket.com/albums/...owz/naval1.jpg

Answering the call of his house and indeed the will of the Basileus, Nevoulas ek Philadelpuis has settled in for the voyage across the Aegean sea toward Rhodas. Never the best of sailors Nevoulas watches his fellow noble Ioannis Kalemetros who is looking far more comfortable preparing his men with logistical details of the siege. Nevoulas has already had his instructions from his superior commander in this case and now ponders the last hectic few years that have got him on a boat to an outlying settlement at sea.

He looks out as he seas the coast of Anatolia in the distance and thinks of lost friends and loved ones. Dead at the hands of the invading Turks… not that Nevoulas had any long lasting resentment towark the Seljuks it was not his nature to hate despite the obvious reasons to dislike.

Indeed it was now 12 years since he lost his father at the Battle of Manzikert in 1071.

https://i187.photobucket.com/albums/...anzikert-1.jpg

He recalls it now when the information had arrived home near Athens, his father dead and his only brother missing. His emotional mother took the news badly and indeed it was a great shock as all previous information had been more than positive. We had heard great things from letters from my father who had risen to prominence has a high ranking troop in the royal guard of Romanos IV. So much so in fact that our family name was beginning to have some capital in the Roman empire, so this news was a shock and very sad.

My brother was listed as missing, I would assume dead and after no further news over the next few months I felt confident that he was gone. My mother however was adamant that my brother Makedonias was still alive and would some day ride over the hills and return home. I recall arguing constantly with my mother – moments I bitterly regret now she has passed away. We were still on bad terms the last time I saw her – she was right too the old goat. Alas I was a headstrong young boy of 12 when I rode out determined to find news of my assumed dead brother back then.

That was my first experience (and I hoped the last) of a voyage across the seas. The sea that day had not been so calm, it was as if god himself was sending me a message. As much as it was clear now with calm waters that Rhodas was within my destiny it was clear then that Anatolia was not meant for me.

My servants that had the misfortune to follow me on my headstrong crusade had urged me not too attempt a crossing when the moon was reducing its light. But alas I thought I knew better – why should I be afraid of the Aegean?

The seas were choppy and ill-prepared for the navigational difficulties of the crossing we soon lost our way. A crossing that should have taken a couple of days ended up nearly taking a week. We would arrive wearily on the shores of Anatolia.

https://i187.photobucket.com/albums/...3c9bdd5d4a.jpg

I expected for some reason to just turn up on the shore and have some idea what to do next and was completely unprepared for the size and scale of Anatolia. From the letters my father had sent me it all seemed so easy to find his way around – I had taken into account he was part of a large organized army and here I was with little water no food and a handful of servants.

I let out loud uncharacteristic laugh the idiocy of it all seems all to clear now – my bodyguards look alert…. An impatient Ioannis looks at me sternly.

‘Our wandering daydreamer returns, I wonder is it some brazen beauty in Athens that has your attention Nevoulos’

I mutter at the indignation… rise to stand with a repost, but stumble as the watery motion catches me unawares…

Another one of Ioannis bodyguard shouts ‘no sire, no women of Athens would settle for such a man, I bet it is some wench from the capital who took him roughly he recalls’

To which my bodyguard now rises…

Myself and Ioannis stand quickly ‘Enough’ we say in unison. To quickly dispel any disunity Ioannis calls me over to discuss battle plans further.

Rhodes 1084:

https://i187.photobucket.com/albums/...odesLindos.jpg

Nevoulas ek Philadelphuis and his bodyguard are camped outside the main settlement on the island. He had been dismayed at the state of the once great island of Rhodas and whilst they had a useful fortification that himself and Ioannis Kalematros were now besieging the rest of the island looked underdeveloped and neglected.

He had heard fantastic stories of a huge Colossus that once stood on the shore facing Asia Minor defiantly and magnificent centres of learning and trade. Now this mixed race island seemed to have lost their way – from what he could see there were many isolated communities all over the island lacking direction or centralisation. It disgusted him and reminded him very much of Anatolia back in his teenage years, the horrors of those times still taxed Nevoulas greatly.

https://i187.photobucket.com/albums/..._of_rhodes.jpg

He recalls the times he had spent as a young teen roaming from town to town western Anatolia. It was a difficult time for young Nevoulas, who was shocked at the completely small minded naivety of the peoples who populated these towns. They would have the cheek to call themselves Romans but freely frolicking in barbarian ways, mixing and frolicking with all manners of colours and creeds.

Time after time Nevoulas was turned away from administrators and governors who seemed more interested in decadence then matters of the state. The mention of the battle of Manzikert had got me sharp looks for sure from the local residents, but they regarded it as something far removed from them. I could not believe their passive feelings toward what was surely such an important event. Even worse my funds began to run dry, my loyal servants and even myself had to scrape together finding work wherever we could find it. It was a difficult life and whilst it would harden me into the man I was today, there was no doubt I was living the life of a peasant back then.

I would work my way eastwards across Anatolia in this manner and eventually I would pick up tidbits of information here and there about the aftermath of the battle of Manzikert. I had been able to realise at least that many of the survivors had been taken prisoner by the Seljuk’s including the emperor himself. It had surprised me further to learn that some of these prisoners had been released and some had settled in Trebizond. I had mixed emotions at the news, I knew now a place I had to get to, to get hard quality information. After several months of picking up hearsay here and there it was a relief to have such a solid lead. But already questions were forming in my mind, why were loyal soldiers just ‘settling’ surely they were now deserters? What of the others, what price had these ‘settlers’ had to pay for their release?

Nevoulas shakes his head clear of questions from his past that he has long since answered as he hears some commotion up ahead. It is yet another attempt from the from some locals to travel through the blockade towards the cities. It is quite blatant that they are attempting to carry food through to the people held up within. They look confused as the bodyguards relieve them of their wares, unaccustomed to the ways of a rudimentary siege warfare it seems. He cannot believe the foolishness of these people, feeling almost pity for them he moves over to inspect the goods, looking forward to fresh feed. The long siege of Rhodes continues.

Rhodes 1086:

The siege continues, Nevoulas ek Philadelphuis and his bodyguards are beginning to find the going tough as stubborn resistance fighters continue to hold up inside their fortifications. Isolated out here on Rhodes and now its seems supplies are beginning to dwindle. Nevoulas and his guards have been allowing the commander and his troops access to the prime foraging spots, the thin pickings elsewhere has led to the men beginning to use up some of the surplus supplies.

Despite this mood remains spirited, the close relations better Nevoulas and Ioannis Kalematros is helping and both the young strators are excited by news of conquests elsewhere in the empire. Indeed the two have been discussing a great many things of Imperial ways in particular the politics.

Nevoulas I fear your shy and retiring ways will not gain you much currency in the senate

Nevoulas frowns, this has been a familiar topic of Ioannis and he has been pressing Nevoulas about his lack of involvement in the Senatorial discussions in the last couple of chats they have had.

Like I have said Ioannis I preferred to keep quiet on the floor of the senate last time, I believe much energy was wasted by some strators venting nothing but hot air. I prefer to watch and wait…

Nevoulas watches Ioannis as he steps up and grabs the jug of wine and pours deliberately into Ioannis cup…. Nevoulas knows that Ioannis is not satisfied with this answer and sure enough…

Come now Nevoulas, now that I have come to know you better, you have a far greater understanding you let on and beneath that quiet exterior is a deeply thoughtful and passionate fellow. You have spoken of your pride of your position in the senate but you sat there as timid as a mouse. Sorry to be hard on you here but if you have a story to tell lets hear it.

Nevoulas heart flickers, his past is not really something he wishes to reveal to anyone he is unsure that he can trust. However the long siege has enabled him to get to know Ioannis really well and he is certain he can be trusted.

My friend you have been pressing me about this for days you are correct I do have a story and I do wish to get it off my chest if you have the time and the patience to listen to me tale.

Ioannis lets a satisfied grin appear on his face. He says

You and I have plentiful wine and this siege isn’t going anywhere tell me what troubles you so about the politics of the imperial world…

Nevoulas takes a large gulp of wine

Have you heard of a place called Trebizond, it is deep in the heart of Anatolia…

Trebizond 1076

My long travels across Anatolia had brought me to this point. I was about to enter through the gates of Trebizond. I had decided that if I could find no further information about the fate of my brother I would now turn back home. I was entering my 16th year and it was occurring to me that my mother had been left to run our modest estate near Athens for some time now and I was beginning to realise that there truly was nothing but desperation awaiting me at every turn on this godforsaken land mass.

I had seen several disturbing things in my times travelling, I was increasingly appalled at the apathy of Roman citizens and their simple surrender to incoming settling tribes. Waves upon waves of Turkish immigrants were moving in and seizing neglected lands and settling in the areas. No-one seemed in the slightest bit bothered that these people were here illegally and encroaching on rightful Roman land. Landowners seemed content just simply to pick up sticks and retreat to townships.

Upon entering Trebizond I was now no longer surprised by the distinctly un-Roman feel to the place. After a few days of starting to ask around about the whereabouts of soldiers from the battle of manzikert, I was pointed in the direction of a fairly well to do district of the city. Here, I would have the luck to meet a man who was a member of my father’s century and whilst the fellow did not know my father or brother personally he could get me an audience with the governor of Trebizond who had given much support for the great battle.

As I wandered around the district I would meet more veterens of the battle of Manzikert, these men I regarded with mixed feelings – I knew them to be contempliaries of my father and many looked tough war hardened soldiers. But their seemingly care-free manner bothered me, did they have no concern for the empire. My mind was full of questions and I resolved to get the answers. But every time I started a line of questioning I would be waved away or shouted down. It seemed my young years and fresh face gained no currency with these would be deserters. Perhaps I thought I would get the information I sought from the governer.

I walked into his dwelling with anger and bile swelling through my veins, therefore I was taken aback by his friendly nature. ‘Young Philadelphius’ he said ‘Your father was indeed a great warrior, I miss him greatly. It pleases me so that you would join me at my court’. I was taken aback by this, I wondered what to say I had come to his palace full of questions but I realised after spending some days in the mans company again I would have to bide my time as the governor would repeatedly bat away my questions.

Ioannis would interrupt me here…

So you do not stand up to say anything for you fear no-one will listen he says

That in part may be true I reply but it is what happened next, which is why I choose to keep a more reserved counsel. Nevoulas replies

Anyway here I was now because of the governors respect for my father I was accepted at his court. I thought if I stuck around and gained in influence I may come across a veteran who would give me the answers I sought.

Things came to a head at an emergency counsal meeting when news of a large Seljuk army would be approaching the city. This was my first experience of senatorial type politics and I assure you Ioannis I was anything but quiet then.

It was a gathering of the best of the veterans certainly nowhere near as grandiouse as the Magneura but close enough for a boy of 17 years as I was by this time.

I recall lamenting the veterens, laying into their laziness and apathetic attitude towards imperial matters. They wished to barter a peaceful solution with the Turks, I asked why make a stand, there must be armies back closer to home that can be brought forward to chase off these fiends. They would laugh at my niaviety. Later the governer explained that these men no longer were bothered or had any faith in matters from the Capitol, in fact he had said neither did he. I looked in shock, I was seeing the complete break down of the empire in these parts

Nether-the-less the next day it seemed as if my words had caused some inspiration as 2/3 of the veterens would show up in full battle gear and were fully prepared to fight. It was as if my enthuisiasm had turned back the clock for these men and had reminded them of their duty and Roman pride.

Ioannis was looking more eager now… interrupted again


You have fought against the Seljuk Turks!!! he exclaimed Nevoulas I am impressed

Ioannis there is more to say Nevoulas looks sadly as much as I wished this to be an inspirational moment, it is a time I look back on with deep regret, my lustful battlecries had just signed away many men’s death.

I don’t understand he says

SIRS an excited bodyguard enters the tent We have message from the mainland…

I will explain another time Ioannis Nevoulas says to Ioannis, to which Ioannis nods thoughtfully.

A cooperative story by TheFlax and myself.

Thrace, 1083

A plain carriage escorted by a few men sped through the Thracian countryside, making good time on the uneven dirt road. The reunion with her father would soon be upon her as she had been assured they would arrive before apodeipnon. The eleventh hour had passed some time ago and as the minutes trickled by, she found herself increasingly nervous. It had been some time since she had last been in the presence of her father, and while she loved him dearly, she feared his disapproval more than anything else. The carriage slowed down, bringing her out of her contemplation. It was a sure sign they were nearing her father's camp.

Anna and her retinue came upon the camp of her Father as the sun was nearing the horizon. Squinting, she could see the Imperial banner flying over the Basileus' pavillion, the first structure raised when the army had stopped for the night. The camp was abuzz with activity, though the soldiers in it were a motley band. Archers from the standing army worked alongside militia from the city guard of the capital as they set up camp. A unit of peasants stood idly by, strangers to the campaigning life. As she watched, a large man, a Varangian by his dress and blond hair, approached them and began yelling at them in accented Greek. The serfs scurried about and began to dig the ditch and embankment that would surround the camp.

Having put the peasants to work, the Varangian, clad in scale mail with a massive two handed ax strapped to his back, turned to the new arrivals.

Bowing his head, he spoke to her, "Ah Princess Anna, the Basileus has been expecting you from Miklagard. I'm Captain Harald Sigurdsson, leader of his bodyguard."

Anna simply nodded to the man.

"Head up to your Father's tent, I'm sure he wishes to speak to your Highness right away."

Anna found Aleksios huddles over a map table with his subordinates. In the field, the ornate wear of the court was stripped away and he was dressed as a soldier, though with exquisite armor and fine leather boots. A purple cloak, the color of royalty, was the only indication of his rank.

Looking up from the map, the Basileus noticed the entry of his daughter, "Gentlemen, you are dismissed, I need to speak with my daughter alone. We will discuss tomorrow's march later."

The men filed out and the Basileus approached the Princess.

As her father neared her, Anna bowed curtly. "As per your wishes father, I came in diligent haste."

Aleksios embraced her, "It is good to see you Anna. I hope the trip from Constantinople was without trouble?"

Anna returned the embrace, "It was uneventful, if a bit uncomfortable."

Aleksios grunted, "Be grateful you are still in Thrace, the roads in other parts of the Empire have degraded to the point of being non-existent. Yet another decline we will have to address."

The Basileus motioned his daughter to a seat and sat down opposite of her. A small smile crossed his face.

"Of course, you do have first hand experience of this. How was your trip to Cyprus?"

So, he would start with Cyprus. Very well, Anna thought, there is nothing to hide about that. Of course, she would avoid the topic of Makedonios until her father brought it up.

"The trip went well, the sea was calm enough and Cyprus is under good governance. The population seems content, I forsee no problems coming from that province. If you wish it father, I will put my observations on paper for you to review at your leisure."

Aleksios raised an eyebrow.

"Ah. . .how uneventful. Perhaps you could then enlighten me as to why Makedonios Ksanthopoulos has written to me and asked for your hand in marriage?"

She shrugged. "He is not the first, is he?"

Aleksios laughed, genuinely amused.

"No, he is not. However, he is the Master of what is essentially an armed order of Monks. He'd be violating his newly established laws by marrying you. You must have made quite an impression."

The amusement passed, and the Basileus spoke more seriously.

"Anna, I have given you some leeway in who you would choose as a husband. I have not dictated who you should wed. However, you are the daughter of an Emperor. Your actions are watched, your companions noted and men will vie for your attention. Some do so because they are moved by attraction, others power or both. Your behavior, fairly or not, reflects on all the Komnenoi and the Throne itself. If you show a preference to one House, others will assume that I favor that House. Our family is new to the Purple, if we upset the balance too much, we might find ourselves sharing the fate of Nicephorus.

"I ask you to tread with care among the Bachelors of the Empire."

She paused an instant, taking in fully her father's words.

"I have tried to please them all equally father. I will not hide my feelings from you, if I had to choose a husband at this instant, it would be Makedonios. Yet, I maintain a facade of interest for the others, even those I profoundly dislike. I have not forgotten my role as your daughter."

Aleksios sighed, "Of course not. Though I am not overjoyed to hear this about Makedonios. I'm not sure if his venture into the Levant will end well for the Empire as a whole. Even if you did marry him, that marriage would negate any hold we would have over the Order, as according to its laws he would lose his leadership. We would lose a Grandmaster and gain, at best, a Comes.

"Perhaps you think this cold hearted? There is always a political component to marriage at our rank. If I had not married your Mother, a Doukas, I would still be a Strategos. I needed their support to gain the Throne, and my marriage to Irene secured that. Your Brother has forged a House from that alliance. Marriages are the currency and contracts of the Nobility.

"The day may come when you will be asked to do the same for our family. For the Komnenoi to establish a dynasty, we need to do more than just rule well, we must bind the nobility to us. Marriage is part of that."

Aleksios looked stern, but sympathy played along his features as well, "Do you understand?"

Anna hid her dissappointment at being still treated as a child under a veneer of meekness. "Yes father, I will do my duty and marry the man you choose. Our Lord has given us each a destiny, if that is mine, then I shall be content with it."

The Basileus' mouth quirked and he rubbed his forehead.

"Of course, but do not worry. Any marriage will not be for some time. As soon as you choose someone to wed, the other, spurned suitors might resent our family, might even plot against us. As long as you remain unwed, this will not happen.

"As long as there is hope that they might woo you, they will strive to do so, and that will be to our benefit. They will be on their best behavior and they might even share some secrets with you in an effort to impress."

Anna's expression quickly changed to disbelief.

"But... father! I am fast passing the proper age to be wed... and still you wish to wait?"

A flash of exasperation crossed Aleksios's face.

"It will happen soon enough. But first, I need your assistance on another matter. Both the Senate and myself agree that the Empire must expand to the west and east, our traditional lands. To secure our northern flank while this happens, I feel it would be best to reach an alliance with the Hungarians. Our diplomatic corp is sadly understaffed, yet I must send someone to whom they will listen, whose presence will honor them and who is talented in diplomacy and negotiation."

The Basileus smiled, "Someone like you, my dear."

She simply nodded "Then I leave at the first hour of hemera, tomorrow. What are the terms you wish me to convey?"

Aleksios replied, "Trade, alliance and an exchange of maps will do. I hope that the Barabarians will be so overawed by our offer that you'll be able to have them pay for the privliege, but make the best deal you can."

The Basileus shook his head ruefully.

"It pains me that the Empire has to stoop to this, but we must face facts, we are not what we once were. In time perhaps, but for now. . ."

Anna lowered her eyes. "...We do what we must. I know. Father, I feel I have no choice but to bring back the issue of marriage. If you want me to bear heirs to for our family we cannot tarry. You might not want to hear this, but you will have to choose someone soon, else my suitors will get disenchanted by the extended wait. Already some of the girls look at me differently, I am getting older than it is proper and no man wants to marry a wife who has seen too many springs. They'll all wonder why I didn't get married sooner, then rumors will spread that I might be barren or worse."

She let the words hang for a moment, her fearful expression revealing that she could not live with such a shame on her shoulders.

"Besides, you married mother when she had but fifteen springs."

Aleksios leaned back in his chair and contemplated Anna over tented fingers. After a pause he spoke again.

"You are a Komnenoi, you will do your duty for the family and the Empire. I understand your position, but an alliance with the Hungarians is the most important priority at this point.

"If you are in a rush to be married, the Hungarian Prince is a bachelor. A marriage to him would cement the alliance for sure."

The Basileus rose and spoke again, "I wish you a good journey, Anna."

The young woman seemed about to lauch a retort, but held her tongue. Instead she bowed.

"I will pray for you father, return to us safely." With those words she took her leave from the Basileus' tent.

Aleksios watched his daughter depart for a moment. Then, turning back to the map table, the Basileus barked for his subordinates. There was much to be done.

Mysia, 1086

The sweat dripped from the weary soldiers' faces as they staggered, rather than marched, towards Nicaea.

"With all due respect, Caesar, I have seen better roads in rubbish pits than this mess!" gasped Anatolius Laskaris, a veteran soldier who rode with Ioannis, "Must we rush back to Nicaea? After all, we have only just restored Roman rule in Dardanellia."

"Ah, my good Anatolius, always eager to get into battle, but in your aged years, you don't appreciate the toils of campaign as much." responded Ioannis, "We must return to Nicaea so that Strator Chrysovergos can set out on his expedition. I will not have the second city of the empire exposed to the Turks."

"Yes, but surely we could have waited until the roads, rudimentary as they are, have been cut?"

"No, time is essential. The Turks will not be idle, and we are as yet still very weak.

Trebizond 1076:

Dust is whirling around in the distance, Roman veterens are steeling themselves with anxious looks on their battle scarred faces.

Nevoulos ek Philadelphius stands in his borrowed combat gear rather nonchalant towards the whirligig of activity. What is the fuss about? He asks himself, we stand here as Romans about to do battle to correct the wrongs of years ago. We are infinitely superior to anyone else or so he had been brought up to believe anyhow. He turns to a grizzled soldier to his left and asks:

Why the fuss over a simple sand-storm?

The soldier looks in astonishment at me. I wonder if he is wondering about my aristocratic accent and stance, I realise that this probably comes as a shock to him and the governor of Trebizond will be equally as shocked to see me return later as part of a victorious party of troops. Yes, there will be no standing on a nearby hillock for Nevoulos, I am to gain the glory and wonder of combat.

Young pup the soldier replies Look closer and prepare yourself that is no mere sand-storm, can you not hear the unmistakable hooves of the Seljuk Cavalry. That is the enemy.

He points as the now much closer dustbowl approaches – I can see snarling faces of mounted men through the dirt. My mind explodes in blind panic as I begin to step back.

What – send out a tribune explain we are not ready!!!

I am shouted down as from the back a loud general lets out a huge shout.

Hold the line there spears up… prepare yourselves men. Fight, fight to the last man….. For Rome…

A half hearted shout of For Rome echos down the line.

For Rome I thought, what the hell was that. I wonder where is the long monologue of a general telling his troops of the superioty and might of his troops, listing the vices of the enemy. This is not the battle lore I had read about back home in Athens. I realise here and now the stark truth, that I am part of a ramshackle disorganized rabble that is about to be slaughtered. The men around me look out of shape, hungover and grim. Worse still, it was me that has instgated this moment and my foolish words back in the safety of the walls of the city.

My knees are literally knocking together now as I look up the enemy is nearly upon us. I would turn and flee but men are pushing at my back I have literally nowhere to go. I desperately hold my shield over my head and cower behind spear hanging uselessly by my side. A warm trickle is felt down my left leg as I lose all control over my faculties as now feel a huge weight crashing in front of me. Screams and slashes are all around me.

Suddenly I regain some sort of composure – accepting my fate, I resign myself to go down fighting. As the weight releases from me I cautiously peer out from behind my shield, a head rocks back as an arrow clips my ear of my bare head. I saw little but a cloud of arrows falling around me, I raise my shield and cower beneath again. Arrows thud into the shield, I have barely the strength to hold the weight as again and again they hit.

I am forced into the dusty sandy ground, blood now pouring from my arms, knees and from somewhere in my head as once again fear and my own mortality take over the thoughts in my head.

Mother, Father… I cry pathetically I have failed you

Fortunately the men around me are too concerned with their own vulnerability to hear my shameless mewing. Once again I am able to recover my composure for a second to realise the rain of arrows have stopped. No sooner have I regained my footing is the weight of a second cavalry charge felt immediately ahead of me. The force pushes our thinned line back and over, as the man ahead of me is pushed up and over me, I fall aback my shield arm knocked back…

I scream as a horses hoof pins my hand that was holding my spear to the ground, the accompanying crack turns my face white with agony. As the horse moves on I roll with my shield toward what looks to be a cluster of still standing, heck still alive men . Woth my limp hand a dare to reach out and grab a fallen comrades helmet to offer me some facial protection. Ignoring the shooting pain from my hand I place it awkwardly on my head and desperately claw toward the survivors.

Before I get there I am cut off as more horseman surround me, a nearby horseman takes his bow and looks me in my eye and suddenly stops before he can launch his lethal shot, instead he offers his hand as if to rescue me. I look back at the man completely dumbfounded…

Nevoulas take my hand shouts the rider in perfect Greek.

I realised at once that this must mean some sort of surrender, quivering at the fought of what depraived acts may be forced on me by the Turks I spit to the floor and shout defiantly.

**** off Turk, I’d sooner you kill me then be taken prisoner.

The rider looks in despair and in the heat of the battle surprises me further by reaching up and removing his helmet to reveal fully a face of a man that looked very familiar.

Wha….

I shook my head, it cannot be I thought, it must the battle or some kind of Turkish witchery of some kind.

Nevoulas please now take my hand my brother or you shall surely die….

…..

Rhodes 1087:

I wake up with a start, sitting up straight sweat pouring down my face. I had the dream again I thought sombrely, the recurring nightmare of that day had lived with me since. It is a mixture of shame my part in so many Romans death and the shame of a turncoat in my family. I stand up and move away from my still sleeping bodyguard around me.

The siege of Rhodes still continues, the news that had been received from Kosmas the governer of Athens has sent men to help in a final assault on the Hold that we need to take to fully control the island. Meaning it would soon be time for battle once more. Not that I feared battle or cherished it, I had fought several times since Trebizond infinitely more successful, but still that bloodbath somewhat haunted me.

My own brother I reflected the traitor. I recall his explanations to me as I was held prisoner in the Turkish camp. I abjectly refused to accept his line of reasoning, that the days of the Roman empire was gone and that he had come to realise and believe in a new force, the force of the Seljuk Turks, the force of Islam. I remember his fond preaching’s of how lenient and tolerant they were toward us prisoners and how I too could become like him a general in the army.

I snorted as I stared blankly at the night sky, their leniency and tolerance allowed me to escape. I realise that this goes against my feelings somewhat. In fact my resolve and thoughts on the Islamic Turks has softened considerably since that day as I have learned more of them and their faith. Still I am somewhat defiant about my brothers’ messages of the Turks plurality, I had come to realise that as it stood he did have a point. The Roman Empire was indeed a shadow of what it once was.

Not for long though I mused and now smiled to myself, as here myself and Ioannis Kalematros stand on the brink of success on Rhodes several other acts of expansion has taken place. The Roman Empire was indeed on its way back up and not as you said my brother a dying corrupted disease.

You were wrong to desert us Makedonias, you betrayed your family and your heritage, I WILL right your wrong. I say out loud to nobody in particular.

I take a seat on a nearby rock as I look at the garrison of Rhodes that had frustrated us so

… and you people of Rhodes will soon feel our force…

OOC : This is the first installment in a series I intend to do about the past of Methodios...
I have six or seven parts written so far and should post one each day during the week, barring any unexpected difficulties...

Hope you enjoy them...


Wild Turkey’s chase
Cilician Armenia, September 7th 1071


Columns of smoke rose above the small barren hills of Cilicia. The breeze carried the smell of cooking, horses and latrines. This were the first telltale signs to Tagaris that he was finally approaching the camp of Tarchaneiotes’ army.

A week past, as a young Topoteretes, he had been sent with his small retinue of men to scout the area and try and locate the elusive Turkish forces. Though they are rode through miles and miles of barren and mountainous country, they had found no clue to the presence of that Muslim army.

No messengers from the main body of the army under Basileos Romanus either.

Not finding any sign of that army was not that worrying, seeing how most of it had been marching to Manzikert to be met by Romanus’ main corps. But the Basileos’ agents at the Sultan’s Court had claimed that this was a lure and that a second Turkish army would catch Romanus’s army from behind, playing hammer to Sultan Alp Arslan’s anvil.

Tarchaneiotes (and Methodios with him) had been dispatched from the Tagmata to try and engage the second Turkish force, in vain.

Finally reaching the centre of the camp where Tarchaneiotes’ tent was dressed, Methodios got off his horse and gave the reins to one of his men. Tarchaneiotes came out of the tent. A burly man of forty and some years, he bore a large black curly beard, only partially hiding a constant scowl from a wound he received fighting the Normans in Italy while still young. Standing at attention, Methodios gave his leader a military salute.

“Topoteretes Tagaris reporting, sir”.

“Topoteretes, at ease”, replied the general. “Your report ?”

“Sir, no sign of the Turks… We rode north and came rounding from the west, according to orders and have not seen the least sign of their presence.”

A silence followed.

“Permission to speak, sir ?” Tagaris asked.

“Granted” answered Tarchanieotes.

“Sir, do we have confirmation that such a force truly exists ? If it did, we surely would have seen some sign, any sign of its presence… It is as if…”

Seeing the glare in his commander’s eye, Tagaris let his voice trail off.

“Are you implying that we are on a wild goose chase? That we have been betrayed?” grunted the general.

“Yes… Ha… No, sir…” Tagaris answered, totally unsure as to what answer was expected of him.

“Dismissed, young man… And don’t go spreading those tales around camp. If I catch only a rumour of this, I’ll make personally sure you end up with kitchen duty for a month…”

“Aye, aye, Sir”said Methodios, giving a sharp salute, before taking his leave.

******

Bran, 1083 to 1086

Hungary, a barbarian kingdom which thinks too highly of itself, its crude language is only matched by its equally crude table manners. Their women have loose morals, wearing tight dresses and leaving their hair exposed for all to see; even the so-called noble ladies share all their meals with the men and travel the streets whenever it fancies them, forsaking their dominance over the household. Their leaders are uneducated, hunting in the hemera and reveling in the hespera, most of them shirking from the duties of their station. As for their rites, they are uninspired, riddled with mistakes and uttered in that barbaric tongue, latin. Their architecture reveals their innate insecurities, with their narrow roads, small houses and tight rooms; only those who fear their enemies, be they spies, assasins or invading armies, would confine themselves to such a restrictive environment.

- Hungary: Politics and Culture by Anna Komnenos

The sun still dominated the afternoon sky when the princess' carriage arrived at the castle of Bran. In a short amount of time she was through the gates and then was lead to the inner courtyard of the castle proper. There she found a small procession waiting for her, nobles she presumed by their attire. As she stepped out of the carriage they each gave a curt bow before the lord of Bran made himself known. He was not a tall man, for he barely surpassed her own height, and had a stocky build. His receding hair was black, turning to grey, as was his ample mustache. His small beady brown eyes shone with an inexplicable intensity. A translator had accompanied Anna to facilitate communication.

"I bid you welcome to Bran, princess."

Anna nodded and smiled at the reaction of the assembled men. They had expected her to be richly dressed in an effort to impress, instead she had emerged with plain traveling clothes and it seemed her veil had also taken them offguard. Vainly, they tried to peer at her features, but only met her determined and demanding eyes. With this arrival, she had showed them they were not worthy enough for her to take her time grooming herself properly. She would reserve that for the King.

"I take it you have arranged a suite for me?"

It was the man's turn to nod politely.

"Very well, you may take me there." With those words she signaled her escorts to follow her with the luggage.

The assembled men were shocked she hadn't even acknowledged them and yet found themselve cowed by her strong presence, none of them protested when she was led away by the lord of Bran himself. As she made her way through the castle with him she probed him with questions.

"When will your King see me?"

Her host smiled faintly. "My lord the King is a very busy man, at the moment he is campaining against some rebels who have forsworn their allegiance to the crown. He will meet with you as soon as possible, my lady."

She gave a few short nods, chiding herself silently. "Of course, it is still campaigning season. I should expect him in the following months then?."

The man waited they had passed nearby servants before replying. "That sounds, plausible."
She had little time to reflect upon that choice of words, for they had arrived at her suite. At first she thought this was some sort of jest. The two rooms combined were smaller than her bedroom in the Imperial Palace, with floors and walls in rough stones covered by a few rugs. They had omitted to even give her a desk and a small cot in the waiting room seemed to have been placed for her confidante. She was about to complain, but her host gave her a proud smile, indicating he thought only the best of these accomodations. She took little time in settling herself in the cramped suite and immediately turned her thoughts to what she would do to occupy her time in the coming months.

------------------------

Weeks turned into months and still there was no audience in a foreseeable future. Instead I spent my days in my room or in the company of Lord Miklos. In my first week, I scored a victory securing myself a desk. At first, Miklos seemed bemused as to why I would need one, until I pointed out that I needed to write letters in order to keep my father appraised of the situation. At once he congradulated me on being able to write, apparently very few women of high rank know how to write in this barbarian kingdom. Now at least, I can spend my day writing instead of wandering in the castle's dreary hallways. I also find myself wishing I had come here more prepared, while bringing texts and book would have been useful, a fork would have been a far more important item. Not only do we feast on peasant fare in most hespera meals, but I had no choice other than to demean myself by eating with my hands. Need I mention I could not find one single piece of interesting literature in the whole of Bran? And that was not for lack of trying. Truly, I have breached the frontier of the civilised world.

- Memoirs of Anna Komnenos

Anna had taken to wearing relatively plain clothes until she would meet the King, besides, since she lived in what amounted in her opinion to servant's quarters, she might as well dress as one of them. By now, most of the nobles thought her a simple and pious woman, for she prayed frequently, and somewhat naive. She saw no reason to change their erroneous perceptions of her person. She smiled warmly as she entered the study of Lord Miklos and he returned the smile, as it was customary. Inevitably, she asked the same question she had the previous morning and all of the mornings in the past month.

"Lord Miklos, do you have any news of the King?"

With a well rehersed sigh, Miklos responded, as always.

"No, my lady, I have heard nothing of him yet. Perhaps tomorrow..."

This time Anna had enough, she refused to spend another worthless day. Yet, she strived to keep an unintelligent facade to make those barbarians overconfident. She would have to lead him where she wanted.

"I tire of waiting, unable to accomplish the mission my father gave me, perhaps we could do something in the absence of the King?"

Miklos sat thoughtful for a few moments, before rising. "My lady, we cannot proceed without the King, I do not have the authority to make any official arrangements."

Anna nodded slightly. "Yes, I know, but can't we do anything? Could we not make preperations?"

Again Miklos appeared thoughtfull, he seemed to be getting what she hinted at. "We could... possibly... make a draft of a proposition?"

The princess beamed. "That is a wonderful idea! Let us get to it immediately then."

Pulling a quill from her belt pouch, she took sheets of paper from his deak and asked him for ink. It took a moment for Miklos to react before complying and before long they got to work on a proposal to the King of Hungary. Quickly, Anna took back a more submissive role, letting him take the lead in the negociations, or so he thought.

--------------------

More than two years passed before I had the opportunity of meeting the King of Hungary. In that time I mastered their language, with help of my translator, and continued writing. Lord Miklos took great interest in me during my prolonged stay and as he fashioned himself a scholar, he took it upon himself to teach me his knowledge for he thought me smart enough for a woman. He did not realise I already knew most of what he tried to teach me, and more, for I indulged him to keep appearances. I often thought back to my tutor as a young child and tried to recall the questions I had asked then. When I realised he was glad to answer each of them, I redoubled my efforts to ask more of them. It didn't take long before he introduced me to his wife, a young woman a few springs older than I. Apparently it was his third and I omitted to mention he would surely be punished in the afterlife for such a crime, for diplomacy's sake of course. I was aggravated to discover she took a certain liking to me, taking me for her younger sister she recounted to me each piece of gossip she had heard. At first, I had hoped I would gain something from these conversations, but soon realised she knew only about minor lords or rich merchants. The amount of adultery going on, if her sayings were true, disgusted me profoundly. I had not thought the people at our borders to be so degenerate.

- Memoirs of Anna Komnenos

Anna walked slowly to the main hall of the castle, the King had finally come after almost three years of waiting and she would have him wait for her. This was a small revenge she would take and was also part of her strategy. The waiting would have unnerved a lesser person, but in Anna's case, it only sharpened her determination.

Once she had waited long enough, she entered the audience hall and keeping her eyes on the floor, she bowed deeply to the King of Hungary. Mutters circulated throughout the room and as she rose, she gazed upon her opponent in the upcoming negotiations. It took all of her self-control to repress the smile creeping on her face. The King was dressed in fine attire but she had completely overshadowed him. Her white silk robe was heavily embroidered with rich purple motifs and brocated with gold filigree. In addition, she had forgone the use of a veil, replacing it with a small golden crown studded with many large gems.

In the most humble voice she could muster she addressed the barbarian king in a flawless Magyar, to the surprise of all assembled.

"Your Majesty, I am Anna Komnenos, first daughter of the Basileus of the Roman Empire. I have come at my father's bidding and in his name to negotiate an agreement between our two people."

The flustered expression of the King was all she needed to see. Check she thought, referring to the game called chess.

The King took precious seconds to recover before attempting to take back the lead. "Erm... yes, I have read the draft of the proposal you established with Lord Miklos. It is acceptable, save for the omission of compensation. I do think 10 000 gold coins would do nicely."

Anna locked her eyes in his and gave a satisfied smile. "That is agreeable, but there is one small thing I wish to ask. » She waited for the King's face to light up with a radiant smile before continuing in a serious voice. « Will you pay us with solidus or your own currency?"

The King's face flushed as anger took over. "What do you mean? You could not have misunderstood me girl!"

The princess remained calm, to let emotions take over was a sure sign of defeat. The battle was over and that fool didn't even know it. Her tone became harder. "Tell me then, your Majesty, why should the Roman Empire compensate you for accepting our terms?"

Unable to keep his calm, the King rose and glared at her. "You came to us with this proposal, thus it is clear you are in need and are the weaker party in this discussion."

Anna permitted herself a faint smile, this was too easy. "The weaker party? The Roman Empire might not be what it once was, but it has been an established power for as long as history itself. On the other hand, you Kingdom has not even seen a whole century. You have no allies because all your neighbors look down on you, not so in the case of the Roman Empire, who comes to you as an equal. Furthermore, need I remind your Majesty that Constantinople is a center of trade and that while we can find other trading partners, you will find no other with such a trading center. By trading with the Roman Empire you will have access to goods from around the known world."

She let her words sink in, prefering not to pressure the King too much, he was already on the brink of being lost to her. To her relief, he sat down while considering what she had said. Finally, after a tense silence, he pronounced himself.

"You show much wisdom in your words and I will consider them. We will continue the negotiations tomorrow."

Anna simply bowed deeply once more, before taking her leave. Tomorrow, he would try to seize the advantage again but he would fail, she had broken his confidence in their first encounter and he would not recover before the treaty was signed. His greatest mistake had been giving her almost three full years to prepare for this single day.

---------------------

Glad the negotiations for the day were over, Anna returned to her suite. She was eager as ever to leave this uncivilised city that sorely lacked any kind of manner. As she entered in her bedroom, she was so caught up in her thoughts, Anna almost missed Verina quickly hiding a letter behind her back.

The princess tilted her head to the side, as if trying to see what was behind her servant.

"What are you hiding?" She asked curiously.

Verina shrugged somewhat nervously. "Its... nothing."

Anna laughed softly. "Come now Verina, we have no secrets, show me."

The older woman hesitated slightly before handing over the letter to Anna's waiting hand. Unfurlign it, she browsed through it, instantly recognizing it was addressed to her and came from another of her servants, Eudoxia. Anna never got a chance to actually read the letter for Verina immediately bowled into her, knocking the princess to the ground. Anna blinked repeatedly, trying to focus her vision. She felt oddly dizzy and lightheaded; a sharp pain emanating from the back of her head.

She barely got time to get back her bearings before the rough hands of her servant wrapped themselves around her small neck. In vain, she clawed at her confidante, seeking to release the tightening grip. A leisurely life of reading and writing had left Anna substantially physically weaker than her servant, and thus her struggle had little effect as she felt her consciousness slipping away.

In desperation, Anna groped for the small pouch at her waist and pulled out a letter opener. She stabbed wildly at her assailant with what little strength remained until the improvised blade dug into something. As the chokehold loosed, Anna's vision cleared in time to see Verina's smirk turn into a panicked shriek, the improvised weapon stuck in her left eye. By the time the princess had more or less regained her senses, Verina had already left the room in blind panic.

Anna rose slowly and her vision blurred again, pain lanced through her head and she stumbled forward, still trying to catch her breath. Advancing to the bed, she passed her hand through her hair and felt something wet. She stopped for a moment to look at her pearly white hand, it was sullied with blood. She only had time for a quizzical expression before collapsing on the bed.

--------------------

When she returned to the negotiations, Anna appeared unphased by the traumatic event that had nearly killed her. Nor did she seemed troubled to learn that Verina had died while trying to escape. In perfect control of her emotions, she finally arrived at an agreement with the King of Hungary on the following day. There would be no compensation, on either side, and already the King was taking to his newfound friendship with the Roman Empire.

Anna for her part made it no secret she was to leave in haste. She was more than ready to return home and put this unpleasantness behind her. It had only been two hours since the agreement had been finalised and already her carriage was speeding away from Bran, carrying back the disgruntled princess to the civilised world.

The Dirty Dozen
Cilician Armenia, September 7th 1071-September 8th 1071

Leaving the tent Methodios joined his men by their camp fire. Those were the men he had been living with for two years now. Men that had served under his father until a Turkish arrow had taken him. The men felt as if they owed the son what they couldn’t achieve for the father.

Sitting by the fire, there was old Bjarki, the former Varangian, come from the cold northern wastes with Methodios’ father to serve for the Empire. Next to him sat Sergios, Methodios’ standard bearer. A bull of a man, short and squat, with the strength of the heroes of old. Facing him, was Nikolas, Methodios’ squire, the last to join Methodios’ bodyguard. A street urchin, he had the quick wit and quick reflexes born of necessity, almost always playing with the knives he liked to keep secreted about his person. Tending the fire was dark-skinned Adrastos, born of a Nubian mother and a Greek father, a patch of burnt skin on his shoulder where the mark of his former master had been burnt into his flesh. He had gained his freedom defending his master’s home against a Turkish raiding party and gained his freedom this way. Methodios had never seen a man who could throw a javelin so far or with so much accuracy. A little further back from the fire, tending the horses was Nikodemos. The man seemed to be able to talk to horses. Before being forced into military life, he had been a lad working the stalls at the Hippodrome, getting to know the horses and dreaming of driving a race chariot. There was also Antonios, whose mastery of the bow came from having lived his early years on the northern shore of the Black Sea, among the nomad tribes... There were also Hilarion, a never-ending scowl on his face belying his name, Antonios, Elias, and others still… Never had such a score of men been assembled in a single unit… All of them had a life-story worth of a Nordic saga or a poem of Homer… Such as those that Methodios’ father liked to tell his son the few times he managed to be home…

Those men had all at one time came to serve under his father’s orders… Now they served under him… Methodios was proud of the honor but fearful at the same time : he didn’t want to disappoint the trust these men had put in him.

Taking the bowl of food that Adrastos handed him, Methodios sat by the fire contemplating what was at work behind the scenes… For surely, there was some dark clouds brewing on the horizon.

Having eaten, Methodios rolled in his blanket, shutting out the noise of the men and horses, hoping for some undisturbed dreams.

Dawn came… A cold autumn sun cast a grey light over the camp. Fires were stoked, horses whinnied, men started about their daily chores.

Methodios woke up, put on his sword-belt and walked down to the nearby stream to refresh himself. Once done, he began practicing with his sword, gliding from one move to the other, striking down one imaginary enemy after the other.

A young soldier planted himself at attention in Methodios’ field of vision, not daring to interrupt him.

Methodios stopped and faced the young man, sheathing his sword in the same move. “What is it, soldier ?”

“Sir, the general summons you and your men. You are to assemble in full gear and join him by the command tent.” The soldier said, giving a sharp salute and turning on his heels before Methodios could answer or ask a single question.

******

Judas’ Gold
Cilician Armenia, September 8th 1071

The clouds had parted and with the sun now high in the sky, heat-waves obscured the horizon. Tarchaneiotes and his men were in the lead. A small company of a barely a hundred men with Methodios’ and his men given the rearguard detail.

Nothing had transpired of their mission or their destination since Methodios had reported to the command tent with his men in full battle-gear.

They had ridden for four hours now, picking their way across this hilly and barren country.

Finally the gorge into which they had ridden some time ago opened into a large clearing.

To Methodios’ surprise, the clearing was not devoid of life. And the sight sent a chill down Methodios’ spine…

In a middle of the clearing sat a huge pavilion on the summit of which floated in the feeble breeze a pennant with a blood-red crescent on a field of green.

“Turks…” growled Sergios, right behind Methodios “By the tits of my last whore… What is this ?”

Methodios was nonplussed. They had been looking for the Turks for almost a month now, riding north and south, east and west, not even catching a whiff of their scent… And now, leaving the main force behind them, Tarchaneiotes led them unswervingly to the Turkish camp. Something was afoot.

Turning to his men, Methodios issued a warning in a low voice. “Remain vigilant and prepared to ride. Loosen your weapons.”

Seeing that his orders had reached the last of his men, Methodios turned back to see his general reaching the command tent.

The Byzantine riders spread on either side of the General’s bodyguard. As rearguard, Methodios and his men remained a bit further to the back of Tarchaneiotes.

The Turks had arrayed themselves on both sides of the tent. Methodios counted less than 500 men., still more than three times the number of Tarchanieotes’ men in the clearing. Was that the army that hoped to surprise us ? Methodios mused.

Tarchaneiotes got down from his horse as a Turkish dignitary came out of the tent, a large smile upon his face. He wore a large red black turban on his head and long flowing gold-embroidered robes, of a Persian design.

“As Salaam Aleikum, General” said the Turk, bowing low. “Finally, we meet. I am Abu Ali al-Hasan al-Tusi Nizam al-Mulk, Vizier of our Great Sultan Alp Arslan, may Allah bless his name.”

“Greetings, Vizier. Forgive me if I seem gruff but what news do you have ? It’s been a long time since we’ve had contact with the Emperor.” Tarcheneiotes asked.

Hearing the greetings exchanged, Methodios’ anguish deepened.

“You are forgiven. I have great news. All went according to plan. Diogenes has been defeated at Manzikert…” An outcry of incredulity rippled across the assembled kataphraktoi, drowning the remaining words from al-Mulk. “… and captured. Though our Sultan in his great mercy has freed him and sent him back to his own lands, along with all other prisoners.”

“Great news indeed” Tarchaneiotes answered “A nice victory for your Sultan but a victory he could not have achieved had my forces been there at Manzikert.”

“True, true indeed, General.” Al-Mulk acquiesced. “A devious plan you devised…”

Methodios had not lost a word of the exchange between the two men. Tarchaneiotes had betrayed the Emperor, taking his whole army off the main battlefield, forging a defeat out of what should have been a victory.

“Yes… A devious plan… But deviousness has a price, no ?”

“True, once again… You are not one to dally in double-talk, General. We had an agreement. You fulfilled your part of the bargain. I will fulfil ours in the name of our Sultan.”

Al-Mulk made a sign to one of his aides. Instantly, four soldiers came forward carrying a large coffer, depositing it in front of Tarchaneiotes.

“Here are your thirty pieces of silver, General…” Al-Mulk said, a wide grin on his face. “…though there a bit more than thirty of them in there, nor are they silver…” A short laugh… “But you get my meaning…”

Tarchaneiotes eyes burned with anger. The Turk had just called him a traitor and there was nothing he could do. Instead he simply said, his voice hardly masking his fury “And that other service, we required of you ?”

Methodios sat his horse, dumb-struck. Tarchaneiotes, a traitor… And for what ? Not glory, not honours but gold… Only gold… Fury welled up in him but he had to contain it. If he let it run its course, fury would destroy him (no great loss there) but he had taken the responsibility of seeing to the welfare of his men.

“That should be over as we speak. Anything else you require of us, friend ?”

Visibly relieved, Tarchaneiotes nodded. “One more small favour… I would prefer if there were not so much witnesses to our bargain.” Inclining his head to left and right, indicating the kataphraktoi standing in a line facing the Turks.

“I thought so” Al-Mulk said, raising his right arm.

Suddenly, a cry reverberated over the clearing where the Seljuk camp was set up.

“Archers !!”

The spearmen that had stood in the front rows of the Turkish lines, dropped to one knee, lowering their lances. The archers in the back rows banded their bows.

“Fire !!”

A rain of arrows shot at the lined-up horsemen, felling horses and men alike, both on the left and right of Tarchaneiotes. Methodios and his men were spared only by standing behind the General and his own bodyguard.

“Forward !!!”

The spearmen lunged from their crouching positions running for the few riders still standing, driving their spears to the horses’ breasts, making them fall thus pinning their riders, before slaughtering them.

Wheeling his horse and drawing his sword, Methodios howled to his men “Run, men !!! Run for your lives !!!”

Spurring his horse forward, Methodios drive his charger between the fast closing sides of the Turkish pincers, seeing that his men had not lost time in following but were hard on his tail. The gorge through which they had entered the clearing was the only way out.

As he neared the entrance, Methodios saw that some fifty Turkish spearmen had taken position there, blocking the way, bracing behind their shields, spear-points driven forward. Slowing his horse to a canter, Methodios let his men catch up to him, forming up in a wedge.

“Either we break them or we die trying…” Methodios said to his men.

Spurring his horse, Methodios howled his father’s battle cry “Odin !!!”

The cry was answered by twenty voices covering the noise of the horses’hooves “Odin !!!”

Methodios saw that Bjarki had placed himself on his left and Adrastos on his right.

The horses gained speed, the spear-points came rushing forward… With a bone-jarring impact, Methodios’ kontos struck one of the Turks, hurling him five feet backwards, into the rows of men positioned behind him, the momentum of Methodios’ horse crushing several men, the hooves crushing arms and ribcages.

A quick look to the sides showed that both Bjarki and Adrastos had made successful charges.

Then the line of spearmen lay behind Methodios… He was in the gorge, racing like mad in the narrow space between the high cliffs. The clatter of the horses’ hooves reverberated on the rocks, a noise of thunder, a noise of impending doom…

Coming out of the gorge, Methodios took stock of his surroundings. A brief look shown him that all of his men were still with him though one or two seemed wounded, riding slouched in their saddles.

“Let’s hope they can make it back to camp”, Methodios thought. “I must warn the others of Tarchaneiotes’ treachery”.

No chasers seemed to be coming out of the gorge but Methodios let his horse run at full speed. Not fearing for his life but fearing instead for the rest of the army.

******

Antioch, Order of St. John's encampment, 1089

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Produced with a great heaping help from Privateerkev :beam:

A light breeze swept in from the sea, carrying with it the sweet scent of the Mediterranean. The sun was just starting to rise, casting a warm glow over the landscape. Iakovos shifted his weight, clearly impatient. His uncle was to have been due by now, but he hadn't shown up for the last three days, and Iakovos had grown both worried and irritated. Iakovos sighed, and motioned for Nikitas to come forth. Nikitas had the distinction of being the head of Iakovos's bodyguard, and the only full blooded Greek among them.
"Yes m'lord?"
"Any reports from Mikhail and Emin yet?
"None sir. And we haven't received..."
Nikitas stops in midsentence to watch as two of Iakovos guard lead an man in Templar colors down the trail to the camp. Iakovos shouts joyfully when he realizes it is Levon and Emin with his uncle Ulrich.

Iakovos leads his uncle through the camp to his tent, his guard following closely behind. "I am surprised that Emin wasn't able to find you Uncle, he has never let me down before." Ulrich chuckles. "You should remember my occupation Jakob. Emin is good, but he is still young yet, and experience trumps enthusiasm." Iakovos shakes his head as they weave there way through the encampment. "I'll show you to my tent first, and we can rest before I notify the Grandmaster of your arrival." Ulrich nods in understanding. "Interesting that I should find you a member of this Order of St. John. Quite a twist of fate."

Iakovos made his way to Makedonios' tent with Nikitas and Ulrich in tow, and when he met with the guards stationed outside the tent, Iakovos calmly replied to there query. "My Uncle has arrived, and if the Grandmaster is well enough, I can summon him so that we may discuss matters."

The guard nodded and went inside the tent. He reappeared within seconds and said, "The Grandmaster is expecting you. The two of you can go in."

Makedonios sat on his bed. Reports were spread all over the covers. A pile of books were on a bedside table. It is clear the Grandmaster is trying to occupy all of the freetime he has while bedridden. He smiled warmly at his Sergeant.

"Iakovos, I see your uncle was able to make it." He then addressed the uncle, "I apologize for not getting up. I seem to have caught something while camping out outside of the city's walls. It leaves me quite weak most of the time. Now your nephew here said you wished to see me?"

Ulrich nodded. "Yes, although I am sorry to hear you in such poor health, and I hope you a speedy recovery. I would have been here much earlier if my nephew hadn't been so worried he tried to track me with his men." Ulrich gives a sideways glance at Iakovos.

Turning back to Makedonios, Ulrich smiled and rubbed his hands together. "First of the many things. I do not know how much my nephew has told you of me, but I come from Hamburg, and deal in arms and armor. I wonder if you would be willing to allow me to supply you some of my finest equipment to the Order of St. John."

Makedonios thought for a moment.

"Unfortunately, we have no armorers in Nicosia and there are none in Antioch. So, I don't see any way to equip this army in bulk yet. All of the members of the Order and their bodyguards have very high quality armor already. As for supplying us directly, I fear that might not be allowed, Imperial bureaucracy being what it is. What I can do is make sure you get the contracts to supply the armor facilities with raw material when the buildings get completed. I'm afraid I can't do much for you now but in the future, we will have the buildings to manufacture higher quality armor and we'll need experts such as yourself to help us get the process started."

Ulrich smiled. "Good, thats all I'd ask for someone in your position. I can only hope that you soon have the proper facilities in place. Now, may I ask what your intention is toward the Knights Templar in Tortosa? I have business with them currently. I ask only to know whether or not I should be relocating." Ulrich smiles, then it fades as something dawns on him. "Jakob, I believe I left behind something in your tent, a letter I believe. Could you fetch it for me?" Iakovos nods and salutes Makedonios before leaving.

Ulrich turns back to Makedonios. "Now, to the meat of this conversation. I am concerned about my nephew, Grandmaster, and I think Outremer will be the death of him. I have already tried to convince to leave, but he flatly refuses me. You may or may not know he had to other brothers, both were involved at Manzikert, and supposedly both are dead. But I have gotten wind his brother Aleksios is alive, and he serves the Turks as Iskander Ajam. If Jakob where to..."

Makedonios holds up his hand.

"Please, one question at a time. Your nephew is his own man. I invited him into this because I thought such a thing would appeal to him. Every member of the Order is a volunteer. No one forces us to be here. As for Manzikert, that was a nasty bit of business. I know because I was there. There certainly was betrayal involved. I only hope that anyone from an honorable family such as yours took the honorable way out and sought a good death."

The Grandmaster stops and coughs for a few seconds.

"Excuse me. My mouth won't stop filling with phlegm. Anyways, on to your other queury. The Knights at Tortosa worry me."

Makedonios sits back and waits for the uncle's reaction.

Ulrich shakes his head and smiles. "I'm sorry, I'm letting rumor get to an old man. I am sure Ja...Iakovos, will make the right decision. As to the Knights, I worry with you. I am catholic as they are, yet their fervor frightens me, and what they are willing to do. I came with them only to get closer to Iakovos.But as to the Knights...is there something you wish to know?"

The Grandmaster sits and wonders how much to tell the older man. Finally he asks simply, "Will there be more?"

Ulrich ponders for a moment. With a grim face, answers in return. "Yes, if not the Knights Templar, then many more. From Venice, from the Holy Roman Empire, from England and France, from Spain and Portugal, they will come from even the lowliest duchy. Indeed, if the Pope calls for more, more will come."

Makedonios coughs for a moment while he takes in what the uncle said.

"Please don't take offense to what I am about to say. But this place is not meant to be governed by Catholics. The Byzantine Empire has been stewards of the Holy Lands for centuries. Our absence from this area has only been temporary. Catholic pilgrims will always be welcome here. But Catholic kingdoms holding land over here is... problematic."

Ulrich nods. "I believe I understand the implications, and I can only hope that instead my brethren support the Empire in it's reclamation of the Holy Land. But they bow to every whim of the Papacy. My family is known for our "eccentric" religious beliefs, one being that the Papacy does more harm then good." Ulrich said "eccentric" with considerable distaste.

Makedonios raises an eyebrow. "If by 'brethren' you mean the Templars, I somehow doubt they will let an Orthodox kingdom rule over them. I do not know much about them, but they seem to be fanatics."

"Then you read them correctly. They have sworn themselves to serve God, but I do not see it. I see them only bringing death, not peace." Ulrich is interrupted by Iakovos returning. He salutes before entering. "Grandmaster, Uncle. I found your letter Uncle." Iakovos looks over Makedonios. "Uncle Ulrich hasn't pushed you to have me married has he? He knows I have made vows..." Ulrich chokes for a moment, from laughter or surprise one cannot tell. Iakovos gives him a wry look.

With a smile, Makedonios said, "Not at all. Your uncle has just been talking to me about our neighbors to the south. You seem to have quite a family history Iakovos. Don't worry, the Order is an open and forgiving lot. As long as you follow the Charter and serve loyally, I care not what kind of past a Sergeant brings with him. Your past is between you and God. Some in the Senate might not understand however so you might want to use discretion with regards to who you talk to about these matters."

Iakovos is stunned slightly, unable to form words for a few seconds. He turns to Ulrich with a look of slight disbelief, then back to Makedonios. Ulrich speaks up. "I thank you Grandmaster for your time, especially in your condition. I think me and my nephew will leave you to your peace now." Ulrich stands up and reaches out to shake Makedonios's hand.

Makedonios takes his hand and shakes it firmly. "It was good to meet you sir. You have a good nephew here and he has done much to make you proud. I'll make sure he gets word to you when we get armor producing facilities up and running."

The Grandmaster nods to Iakovos and picks up a report as the two men leave the tent.

(more to come)

Rodos, 1086

Ioannis Kalameteros twists and turns on his field bed. He has not been sleeping well, the strains of a stretched siege wrecking his nerves and keeping him awake for hours most night.

He lies in the dark, trying to be calm, trying hard to purge his mind of thoughts, to overcome the anger welling up in him, anger at not being able to sleep, at the stupidity of the defenders of Rodos, at this whole damned island. His blood is pulsing in his ears, spots are flashing before his eyes, sweat is dripping from his face as he finally falls into an uncomfortable sleep.

A flash. It is summer. His eyes are closed, but he can feel the warmth on his skin, perceive the light just beyond his eyelids, smell the flowers and the grass, bathe in the tranquility. He opens his eyes.

Around him is a small garden, shining serenely in the afternoon sun. The image is not clear, the edges of his vision seem blurred and flicker but whenever he turns his head, the flickering moves with it. He notices two girls chatting in the grass off to his right. Their faces tickle his memory, but he cannot name them. This place, this moment, he knows it, but just as he seems about to remember, memory eludes him again.

A man enters his vision from the left, walking along a small stone path that winds its through the garden. His clothes are of good quality but plain. The man is tall, with arms slightly too large for his body, the lines of his face obscured by a well trimmed beard. That face, it is...it is...it is his face, it is him, only older, much older. He springs to his feet, an urge to run to the man with his face, to himself. The man turns, a warm smile on his face. As he speaks, the blurred edges of Ioannis' vision expand and expand until at last they obscure it all.

"He has become emperor, my boy!"

A flash, and then there is darkness. Back on Rodos, Ioannis starts breathing more deeply, two words resonating in his head: "My boy, my boy, my boy..."

Turkish Bloodbath
Cilician Armenia, September 8th 1071

The horses were almost out of breath, foam coming out of their mouths, their flanks coated in sweat.
The sun was already beginning to set behind the western hills when Methodios and his men neared the camp of the Tagmata.

A lump of lead seemed to have fallen to the pit of Methodios’ stomach. The flight of vultures in the sky was a sure sign of carnage.

Crossing one last ridge, Methodios and his men came upon the camp. Everywhere men lay sprawled in their blood, the cook-fires overturned, the horses either gone or dead… Not a living soul in sight… But above all the permeating and sickening stench of blood freshly spilled.

A noise of retching came from behind Methodios, himself not far from being sick.

“Too late…” Methodios cursed. “We are too late…”

The Seljuks had come and gone, taking with them the lives of so many brave soldiers, soldiers of the Empire…

Most of the men had not even had time to don their armour, some had not even been able to get out of their tents.

“We had barely left the camp when this happened” Bjarki said, a sad look upon his face. “We could have been among them but for that traitor’s summons… Pfah !! Curse his name and his line !! May the Norns cut his thread soon !!”

Methodios reached a decision.

“Bjarki, see to the wounded… Nikolas and Sergios, go and see if you can find some spare horses in the hills… The Turks can’t have taken them all… Some must have run away… Adrastos, lead the others and gather what provisions and weapons you can muster, we will need them… If we are to go back to Constantinople”.

Without a word, the men set to their separate tasks. Methodios got down from his horse, leading him by the reins towards the central square where Tarchaneiotes’ tent had once stood, intent on finding the maps that would help him plot his course for Constantinople.

“If what the Turk said is true, then the Emperor is alive and well… He must be warned of Tarchaneiotes’ treachery.” Methodios resolved.

******

An outlaw
Sea of Marmara, near Constantinople, April 16th 1072.

The sea-gull drifted high above the ship, spotting the lonely figure by the rail at the front of the ship.
Swooping down to get a better view, the gull could see that it was a large man with sun-coloured hair, dressed with a black-cloak draped over his shoulders, against the biting wind that helped the gull remain in flight. Seeing that there was no food to be gained from that man, the gull veered to the left, away from the ship and towards the wharves of Constantinople, hoping to catch some fish from the fisher-crafts laying at anchor in the harbour.

Methodios stood at the portside railing of the ship watching a gull swoop down from the sky towards him then quickly veering away from the ship and towards the harbour.

“So free, nothing to weigh her down..” Methodios thought with envy.

It was almost half a year now since his self-appointed mission weighed down on him. Half a year since he had witnessed his mentor betray all that he thought he stood for the simplest sin of all : greed…

Over the last months he and his men had crossed all of Anatolikon, avoiding Turkish raiding parties, not of out of fear but because nothing could stand between him and his mission. His own retinue of men had followed him. Some had already crossed the Straits, seeking employment of one type or another, Methodios being unable to afford to keep them in his employ. Now, he had remained in Nikaia too long. It was time for him to cross and gain an audience with the Basileos to tell him how Joseph Tarchaneiotes, his second-in-command, his most trusted general had betrayed him, had him lose the battle at Manzikert, thus precipitating the fall of the Empire, opening Anatolikon to the ravages of the Turkish hordes.

Methodios had not heard of Tarchaneiotes’ fate after that fateful autumn day… “The man must be living at the Turkish court now… A privileged courtier, richer than most…” Methodios half-convinced himself.

Half-convinced because two days ago, he had received a letter from Nikodemos, written for him by a priest, where he put some clues as to what had happened of Tarchaneiotes.

The letter had prompted Methodios to action. Until then, he had dallied, unsure as to the reception he would get from the Emperor. A ruler does not like to be remembered of their past failures…

A sudden thud caught Methodios’ attention. The boat had reached the quay and the lines were being launched overboard to the men on the wharf.

A flurry of activity greeted Methodios as he made landfall, fishermen with baskets full of still-live fishes making their way to the market, dockers with bales of wool coming or going from the ships at anchor, peddlers trying to sell their wares to the passengers...

Making his way through the crowd, a task made a bit easier by standing a full head over the crowd, Methodios left the dock district behind him and set course for the Hippodrome where he was to find Nikodemos. The man had once again found employ at the Hippodrome, as a race official. The wound he had suffered when breaking away from the Turkish trap had healed badly, forbidding him from ever driving a chariot in a race… His limp would probably prevent him from ever going into battle again.

It was nearly two months now that Nikodemos was in Constantinople, time enough for him to gather what knowledge there was to gather… The Hippodrome was the temple of gossip, every level of Byzantine society mixed in the hallways, from the lowest of servants to the highest of nobles… Fortunes were made and lost in the blink of an eye… And Nikodemos stood at the centre of it all, like a spider in her web, trapping information instead of flies…

There were no races today thus Nikodemos was sitting at a table in front of one of the tavern facing the main entrance to the Hippodrome, drinking chilled wine and taking the first warm rays of the spring sun. A familiar figure crossing the square caught his attention.

“Methodios !!” he cried, bounding to his feet, overturning the table, sending goblet and pitcher crashing to the floor. Reaching the large blond man, he caught him in a tight embrace, reciprocated by the large man.

“You seem to do rather well since our last meeting, Nikodemos” Methodios said, studying the man at arms’ length.

“Yes… The Hippodrome pays well and offers food and lodging for the officials…” Nikodemos said, evidently pleased with himself, before adding in a low voice “… and if you can close your eyes on one or two little cheating tricks, your pockets are soon full…” This punctuated with a wink.

“How foul of you… But I know how much you wanted to work back at the Hippodrome… I’m happy that you succeeded…” Methodios told him sincerely.

Leading Methodios over to the tavern, where the maids had righted his table and were clearing the spilled wine, Nikodemos said “But we’re not here to talk about my fortunes… Come sit over here… Have some wine… I have news… Grave news…”

Sitting themselves down and ordering a new pitcher of wine, Nikodemos started to tell Methodios of the news that had made him send the letter.

The news related to Tarchaneiotes. He had come back to Constantinople, almost four months back, pleading for forgiveness from the Emperor for having been defeated by a numerically superior force of Turks, who killed all his men or took them prisoner, releasing him and few of his men to enable them to testify of the might of the Turks.

Nikodemos went on to tell of how Romanus Diogenes, himself having been defeated could not berate Tarchaneiotes but instead greeted him as a long-lost friend, even offering him a large estate on the Bosphorus for his loyalty to the Emperor.

But that was not all, another darker rumour said that Romanus’ defeat at Manzikert would soon be used against him by his political opponents, already sapping at his support and this with the help of Tarchaneiotes, the man mainly responsible for the debacle of Manzikert.

“This man is the Janus of old times come again” Methodios snarled. “He has two faces…”

“Yes but he still retains the favour of the Basileos… Your word or ours won’t carry much weight against his… From what I heard, he tells of how one of his junior officers has led him into a trap in exchange for Turkish riches and offer of protection… No need to tell you the name of that officer…”

“Curses !!” Methodios was taken aback. Not only his mission to warn the Emperor was a failure but he was now an outlaw, the man made responsible for the worst defeat the Empire had ever suffered. This was not right… Had God abandoned him ? He had never been a firm believer… His father had never converted to the True Faith, still believing in the Old Gods of the Norse… Lulled by these tall tales of battles between the Gods, of Midgard and Asgard, Methodios had never truly believed in the One God of the Orthodox faith…

Was he being punished now for his lack of faith ? If so, that God was surely blind if he could not tell right from wrong… Good from evil…

If no divine punishment befell Tarchaneiotes then it would be Methodios’ task in life to ascertain that the man’s fate lived up to his black deeds.

“Can you reach the others, Nikodemos ?” Methodios asked.

“Sure, they are all here in Constantinople… Working one craft or another… We could all meet here by sunrise tomorrow…”

“No… Not here… From what you tell me, I’m an outlaw… Though few men know my face, I stand out like the nose in the middle of the face… I won’t stand risk being recognized before I get to meet Tarchaneiotes face to face.”

“I know of a place outside the city walls by the Western Gate. On the road to Thessalonika, it is called the Greased Axle. The innkeeper is an old friend, a former charioteer by the name of Leukon.”

“Fine… Talk to the others… We’ll rendez-vous at the inn tomorrow at noon.”

Exchanging an accolade, the two men parted, Nikodemos remaining at the table and Methodios mingling with the afternoon crowds near the Hippodrome, heading for the Western Gate.

******

Vengeance, sweet vengeance
Tarchaneiotes’ Estate, near the Bosphorus, April 18th 1072.

All of the men had been there at the inn. None had missed the chance of meeting with their comrades.
Methodios was overjoyed to see that these men had remained loyal to him. Most of them had fallen on hard times. Veterans of the Manzikert campaign were ill-considered in Constantinople these days…
Of them all, only Nikodemos seemed to have made a new life for himself… Methodios had been reluctant to drag him into what he had planned…

With the information provided by Nikodemos, Methodios had drafted a plan that he had presented to the men…

The plan had been simple enough : ride up to Tarchaneiotes’ estate and master his guards, confront the traitor and have him confess his sins. Then take him into custody and request an audience with the Emperor and denounce him for the fraud and the traitor he was.

All the men had adhered to it.

Now, they had left their horses tethered in a stand of trees and were hiding in the bushes across the main gate of the estate. The gates were closed and three guards in lamellar armour stood by the gate, two of them armed with spears, the last sporting a composite bow. Men similarly-equipped made rounds around the perimeter.

Night was slowly falling, the first stars appearing in the sky. The estate sprawled beneath them. It was located on a stretch of land which dropped a few hundred meters away to the waters of the Bosphorus straits. A road leading from Constantinople to some fishermen’s village ran before the gates.

https://i231.photobucket.com/albums/...et/tekfur2.jpg

The main building was two stories high and located at the back of a large walled courtyard. The wall on the Constantinople side higher than the wall on the seaward side, thus giving a view over the moonlit waters of the straits. A tower was erected along the seaward wall with a light shining from it, a beacon for the sailors plying the waters of the Dardanellian Sea. In the front part of the courtyard were located several outhouses where guards’ and servant quarters, stables and smithies were to be found. In the back, the wall enclosed a garden where several cypress trees could be seen waving in the slight breeze from the sea. Torches in sconces were distributed along the outer wall, casting a flickering light.

Between the hiding place of Methodios and his men and the estate’s gates was a flat expanse of ground strewn with bushes and boulders, not enough to provide cover. They would have to make a run for it.

According to plan, Antonios drew out his bow, fitting an arrow to the string and drawing it taut. At the same time, Adrastos hefted a javelin, drawing his arm back, his arm muscle bulging with the strain. At a sign from Methodios, both let loose at the same time, the others with Methodios in the lead making a rush for the gates. The arrow went through one of the guards’ throat while the javelin impacted the second guard, piercing his armour and nailing him to the gate. The last man stood rooted to the spot, seeing his two comrades struck down, and with a large party of men running at him with swords drawn.

Finally coming to his senses, the guard at the gate let out a cry. “A… Al… Alarm !!!” Turning around, he opened the small gate behind him and rushed through.
Antonios drew another arrow to his bow and let it fly at the man in the tower, the arrow piercing his lung, the man toppling over the rail to the courtyard below, preventing him from sounding the alarm bell dangling behind him in the tower.

Methodios’ men were only ten meters away and Nikolas, sprinting, smashed himself into the gate, preventing the man from latching it closed. The guard was sent reeling but soon regained his feet, unsheathing his sword in the same move and making a lunge at Nikolas. The squire evaded the sword stroke, prepared to make another evasive move… This proved unnecessary as a large thrown axe stuck from the man’s ribcage, courtesy of Bjarki…

While Methodios’men filed in through the gates, the alarm was raised in the estate and several of the guards and servants came out of their lodgings, latching on their armour and sword-belts. On the outside, Antonios’ arrows took out two more of the patrolling guards who ran to bring help to their comrades.

The courtyard erupted into pandemonium. The clash of metal on metal, the grunts of men, the cries of the wounded… Suddenly, Methodios spotted Tarchaneiotes at a balcony on the first story of the main building.

Surprise was painted on Tarchaneiotes’ face. Mouthing a “You”, he left the balcony.

In the courtyard, Methodios’ men were gaining ground. Bjarki had cleared a wide space around by swinging his large Danish axe in an arc. Sergios hurled a barrel towards three advancing guards, sending them flying like so many pins in a ball game. Others fought sword duels all around the courtyard. None of them had suffered more than slight cuts. Methodios hacked his way forward through the press of bodies, slashing left and right, blind to the suffering of the men he fell.

Finally, he emerged in the lobby of the building. He was greeted by a large marble statue of an unknown God (Is it Hermes or Ares ? he wondered). Everywhere the wealth of the former General was on display. Ancient vases of brown and black designs were nicely disposed into niches, marble columns delineated the passages into other rooms. Behind the monumental statue was found a small courtyard open to the sky where a fountain gurgled into a small pool.

Behind Methodios, Bjarki was keeping the door, intent on mowing down any man foolish enough to approach the whooshing edge of his axe.

“Traitor !! Show yourself !!” Methodios howled.

He ran through the passage ways of the large building. Opening doors after doors, all the rooms richly furnished, he searched the place, still finding no sign of Tarchaneiotes.

Finally reaching the back of the building, Methodios came upon a flight of stairs. On the highest steps, there stood Tarchaneiotes, a smirk upon his face. He had donned his helmet, leaving the lower mailed part unlatched. Over his tunic, he had put on a chainmail and his lamellar armour, complete with wrist guards and shin guards etched in gold. In his left hand, he bore a large round shield while his right gripped the hilt of a curved sword of Turkish design.

“You call me traitor but last I heard, it is not I who is an outlaw… It is not I who is rumoured to have sold his whole army to the Turks… I came home a hero… And where are you ? Penniless… Hunted…” said Tarchaneiotes, stepping slowly down the steps “What do you seek to accomplish here ? Vengeance ? For who ? For what ? What will you gain ? I tell you… You’ll gain nothing… You think you can best me… I doubt it… Should you succeed, there will be no rabbit hole deep enough to save you from the wrath of the Emperor… If I die, how will you prove that I am what you say I am ? And if I live, and you die, I’ll be the greatest hero of the Empire, my praise sung for eons…”

Methodios felt fury welling up inside him… So much of what the man said was true… What had he been trying to accomplish ? Vengeance…Only sweet vengeance… There was no lying to himself… He had been played a fool by a man he admired, a man he had sought to emulate in all things… Now he was here for only one thing : to get rid of the self-loathing he had felt since that fateful day in Cilicia.

“Now, I notice you look at my sword… A parting gift from my friend Al-Mulk… I made up a story for it… How I took it from the corpse of a Turkish general in the battle you made us lose through your treachery”…

Finally reaching the bottom of the steps, Tarchaneiotes assumed a fighting stance, his torso protected by the shield, his sword lifted high above his head, point forward.

“Now let’s see if you can get your revenge… Fight !!”

With a snarl, Tarchaneiotes charged into Methodios, his large buckler almost knocking his opponent down. The Turkish sword then swooped down and it took all of Methodios’ skill to parry it. Moving back, Methodios was forced to parry the thrusts and swings of the older man. Once or twice, he got nicked by the tip of the sword, blood running from the cuts. Finally regaining his balance, Methodios was able to counter the strokes and reply with his own but the shield was ably used by Tarchaneiotes, providing few openings for Methodios to wound him.

Blows fell from both sides, the swordsmen’s skills negating one another’s. Through the din of the swords clashing, Methodios perceived a change in the noise from the courtyard. Where before there had only been the noise of fighting, he could now hear calls and cries.

Too much occupied with deflecting the mighty blows of Tarchaneiotes, Methodios had no time to wonder about what was happening outside. He was committed… There was no turning back, now… It would either be him or his nemesis… His only regret should he lose his life here would be for the men he dragged along in his fall…

Still the blows rained down from both fighters, without one gaining the upper hand.

Suddenly, the booming voice of Bjarki broke through Methodios’ focus.

“Methodios… Varangians” was all he heard.

“What ?” Methodios asked, in a croaking, dry voice.

“Varangians !! Some guard must have escaped and reached the palace !!” Bjarki answered from the door… “We must go or we’re doomed !!”

“Then go… take the others with you… I’m not finished here...” Methodios barked, not taking his eyes off his adversary even for a blink.

A smile spread on Tarchaneiotes’ face “Listen to your man… Run… That’s all you ever do… Run… Like that day in the Turkish camp… You’ve never done anything else but run…”
Spurred by the words of the man, Methodios lashed viciously with his sword, raining blows after blows, his sword striking sparks from the General’s own, one master-stroke rending the shield in half, biting deep into the man’s arm.

Howling with pain, Tarchaneiotes wrenched the shield free from his arm, blood pouring heavily from the deep gash.

Clasping his sword in both hands, he struck a mighty blow, then another, the force of the blows wrenching Methodios’ grip on his sword, sending it flying near the pool.

“So now, traitor… How does it feel to be at my mercy ? I will make you beg for this” Tarchaneiotes said, showing the wound in his arm, all the while advancing on Methodios, until his sword point rested on his throat.

“Get on your knees and beg… Beg for your life…”

Before Methodios could answer or make a move, a large body impacted against Tarchaneiotes, sending him flying the two men wrestling on the ground.

Methodios noticed it was Bjarki. The man released the general, got to his feet and catching a stupefied Methodios by the arm led him to the courtyard. Bodies lay sprawled everywhere, though a single glance showed Methodios that none of them were any of his men.

“We must run, Methodios… The Varangians will be here soon… It is a fight we cannot win…” Bjarki said, running all the while dragging Methodios after him. Methodios’ men kept the guards at bay, thus creating a path through the courtyard to the gates.

Torn between his desire for vengeance and self-preservation, Methodios followed Bjarki grudgingly through the outer gates of the estate. Soon all of his men joined them and began to run with them towards the trees where their horses were tethered. From the corner of his eye, Methodios noticed a large company of men, coming out of a bend in the road… Varangians for sure… There was no mistaking the heavy armours or the large crescents of the Danish axes…

“To be hunted down by men that fought with my father, how much lower can I fall ?” Methodios wondered.

Mounting his horse, Methodios shot a last glance towards the estate. In front of the gates, there stood Tarchaneiotes, waving frantically to his men, sending them chasing after the runaways.

Turning his horse, Methodios sent him at a gallop down the road after his men, away from Tarchaneiotes, away from the Varangians, away from vengeance…

******

Coming soon "the Epilogue"

Epilogue : A new hope
Thessalonika, March 2nd 1081

(written with permission from OK)

(Senate opens on June 3rd, 1081)

Methodios walked out of the merchant’s house, the purse full of silver coins bouncing in his hand. Crossing the market of Thessalonika, he reflected upon the last months. How many trains had he escorted with his men ? Crossing from the Aegean coast to the Adriatic, from Thessalonika to Dyrrakhion (or Durazzo as the Italians liked to call it.)… So many he couldn’t quite remember…

Anyway, better that than serving garrison duty as they had done for some time in Corinth or worse still serving as mercenaries, helping petty regional rulers to settle their land disputes with their neighbours by shedding the blood of their peasants…

“How low we have fallen ? From being part of one of the most elite units of the Empire’s army to being outcasts in our own country ?” Methodios thought, filled with gloom. Still, he and his men remained faithful to the Empire… Their loyalty had always been and would always remain to the Emperor, whatever wrongs had been done to them…

Since that fateful night at Tarchaneiotes’ estate almost nine years ago now, they had been on the run, going from one employer to the next, always vigilant, never settling too long in one place…

Through the years that had passed, the Empire had known upheavals as well. Romanus, the Basileos captured at Manzikert, had been deposed by the Doukas in the months following Methodios’ raid on Tarchaneiotes’ estate. Rumour had it that he had been tortured, blinded and had died in exile not long after. Methodios felt sorry for him. He had also been a victim of Tarchaneiotes’ scheming with the Turks.

Michael Doukas had gained the throne, a puppet of his uncle before becoming that of his minister of finance. Together, they indulged on luxury spending, withdrawing funds from the army coffers. Disgruntled soldiers led to several rebellions and allowed Italian forays on what was once Byzantine soil.

Finally, General Nikephoros Botaneiates rebelled and gained access to the throne, evicting the Doukas from power, and being crowned as Nikephoros III. But in doing this, and to put down the rebellions in the Balkans and in Anatolia, he had become reliant upon Aleksios Komnenos, great general and leader of men.

Last year, with the support of the Doukas family, Aleksios managed a coup and deposed Nikephoros III.

All these political upheavals meant nothing to Methodios. He was and remained an outlaw, his name anathema due to Tarchaneiotes’ accusations, whoever sat on the throne of the Basileos.

Methodios had remained in contact with Nikodemos. His old friend had remained in Constantinople, working at the Hippodrome. From him, he had heard that Tarchaneiotes had disappeared in the wake of his sponsor being deposed, selling his assets and vanishing. With him gone, there was no way to prove his innocence and erase the shame associated with his name.

Chasing these thoughts from his mind, Methodios joined his men by their fire campfire, on the outskirts of the market, one of many camps catering to the merchants’ guards.

Exchanging greetings with them and tossing the purse to Nikolas, in charge of the keeping of the group finances, he sat down to share their lunch.

Suddenly, a deep silence fell over the market. Worried glances in the eyes of his men, and seeing most of them discreetly going for their weapons, Methodios turned to look in the direction of their gaze.

He immediately understood why silence had fallen upon the market and the guards’ camps. A large contingent of Varangians was making a beeline through the stalls towards Methodios and his men.

They were lead by one of the largest man Methodios had ever seen, even bigger than him. The man carried an air of authority about him.
“Not a good sign” Methodios mused.

Finally stopping a few meters from Methodios, the captain took a few step forward of his men.

“Methodios Tagaris ?” he asked in a deep commanding voice.

“Who is asking ?” Bjarki answered, before Methodios could say a word.

“Not talking to you, ulfhednar…” answered the man, glowering.

“I am Methodios Tagaris” intervened Methodios, standing up to face the man, before Bjarki threw himself at the man. “And I will ask the same question : Who is asking ?” Putting a brave face on but feeling a hard lump settling in his stomach thinking “Is it how this is supposed to end ? Imprisoned ? Tortured ? Executed ?”

Seemingly reading, Methodios’ doubts, the man’s face softened “I am Harald Sigurdsson, captain of the Imperial Guard to Basileos Aleksios Komnenos. And I am not here to arrest you, be at ease.”

Methodios heard a collective sigh from the men gathered behind him, tension seemingly going away, grip on weapons loosening.

“Would you walk with me, Topoteretes ?” Harald asked, using Methodios’ military rank.

“Of course”, Methodios answered, wondering why the Captain of the Imperial Guard would have been sent to him, for this was no coincidence.

Walking away from the market and the glances of the assembled populace, Sigurdsson and Methodios walked down to the stream that run down from the market. Walking along the banks, the noise of the running water soothing Methodios’ nerves, Sigurdsson began to explain.

“I knew your father. We served together in many campaigns. He was a great fighter and I see much of Leif in you. He was not dubbed “The Tiger” for nothing. Though your name sounds more Greek, a gift he made to your mother, I feel there is a tiger in you also. That tiger is caged right now. I hope to unleash it. But not to strike blindly, out of rage, but to strike on orders. The highest orders that can be, the orders of the Basileos.” Letting that sink in, Sigurdsson walked a few pace in silence.

“But I’m an outlaw… I’m the man despised for having betrayed half of our army during the Manzikert campaign.” Methodios answered.

“I have put a word in for you with the Basileos. I cannot believe the lies spread about you. I pride myself on being a good reader of men and so does our Basileos. You were nothing but a scapegoat in what was the failing of a whole nation. Our Basileos is ready to grant you his pardon.”

“From what I know of our rulers, there must be a price attached to that” Methodios asked, warily.

“Yes,” answered Sigurdsson, with a thin smile “a small price… As you may know the Basileos is new to the Throne. Those last years have seen many political upheavals and the Basileos doesn’t want to be another victim of those upheavals. To prevent such a thing, he intends on renewing the old Senate… For that he needs Senators… Many of the old ones died either at Manzikert or in the rebellions since then. Most of the new Senators still have milk coming out of their noses, though some show promise. Our Basileos intends to make our Empire as great as it was, stretching from one horizon to the other, the sun never setting over it…For that he will also need generals… Your name came up as a man of valour however stained your name may be… Your feats on the battlegrounds of the Empire have not gone totally unnoticed… I spoke in your favour… What do you say ? Will you join us in our fight to make our Empire great once again ?”

Methodios pondered the question, keeping on walking along the stream. Sigurdsson kept silent.

“What of my men ?” asked Methodios. “What will become of them ?”

“Forgiven, as you are. Keep them in you employ as your bodyguard or send them away it doesn’t make a difference…”

Methodios pondered his options. A life of honour but a life of danger both visible and hidden or a life of dishonour but no less dangerous…

“I thankfully accept the Basileos’ offer. I would be a fool to refuse the honour that represents.” Methodios answered.

“Fine… I had no doubt you would accept. Here is some gold to see to your equipment and that of your men.” said Sigurdsson tossing a heavy leather pouch to Methodios. “It wouldn’t do for a Senator to appear in the Magnaura dressed as a peasant, no ?” Sigurdsson said with a hearty laugh. “Now, you are to report to the Senate in three months’ time, to the day… That will be the opening of the Senate session. Be there… Strator”.

With these final words, Sigurdsson clasped Methodios’ arm and saluted fist to heart.

Then he turned and walked towards his waiting men, leaving Methodios by the stream, not casting a single glance back.

******

((Written in collaboration with Ignoramus))

Nicaea 1087

Anna had only stopped one day in Konstantinopolis on her way from Bran to Nicaea, where she had taken care of some matters concerning her treacherous confidante. In the weeks her journey had taken, she had much time to ponder what had happened in Bran and as each day passed, she found the bitter sting of betrayal remained in her heart. Her life was slowly falling apart and as much as she hated to admit it, her brother was the only one to whom she could turn to. Surely after 13 years apart, he would not deny her, would he?

It was early afternoon in a spring day and a storm was brewing in the sky, when the carriage of the princess sped through the gates of Nicea and made its way to the residence of Ioannis Komnenos. As soon as the carriage came to a halt, Anna stepped out, not waiting for the staff to help her and when she came upon the guards who rushed out to meet her, she demanded that they take her to see her brother. At first, the men didn't recognise her, for she still wore the same common attire she had worn in Hungary, but as soon as they realised who she was, they bowed profusely and led her straight to him.

Her eyes quickly surveyed the room when she eneterd. It was modestly furnished, with little in the way of extravagance. It was clear that the so-called decadence of the Imperial Palace had not found its way here.

Ioannis glanced up when she entered, suprise registering on his face.

"Anna, er, what a lovely suprise!" he uttered hastily. Recovering himself, he looked at her keenly, "But surely you do not come to pay compliments, as we both know. What great thing has caused you to visit me? Surely you are not in danger?"

With a glance, Anna made sure they were alone before making her move. "Oh Ioannis!" She exclaimed, wrapping herself around him in a warm embrace. "I knew not to who else I could turn..." She added a sob for good measure. "My enemies are incessantly growing closer and closer to me." Now on the verge of tears she finished in a plaintive tone. "You must help me brother!"

Ioannis' face hardened, "Why should I help you? Have you not constantly shown your antagonism against me? If this is another plot of yours..."

Anna backed away, tears rimming her eyes and answered with a quivering voice carrying both pain and anger. "How can you say that?! My confidante, the closest person in my life, almost strangled me... and then I learn she had been selling me out for some time. And you accuse me?!"

She wiped away the tears and composed herself, but her bitter words remained full of sadness. "Are you completely heartless? Or do you hate your sister so much that you do not care in the slightest what befalls her?"

Coming close to her, he placed a hand on her shoulder, "Forgive me, sister, I should not have accused you." he responded soothingly, "You have been unkind to me in the past, but that is no reason for me to treat you so."

Having regained her countenance she lowered her head, ashamed. "I am not safe Ioannis. I know you dislike me, but I do not think you would see me dead, no matter our differences."

Stepping away from her, Ioannis seated himself and gestured for his sister to do the same. When she sat down, he began, "Anna, I believe what you say and that you are in trouble. Confide in me and I will do all that is my power to assist you."

Anna considered her words carefully. "You remember brother, when I was attacked in 6589 (1081), and now my own confidante has attempted to kill me when I learned she was spying on me. Someone wishes me ill, and I will not be safe in Konstantinopolis. I will not be safe unless I marry or go abroad.

Ioannis laughed, "Then why not marry, dear sister? If you cannot trust your own servants, then you definitely need a protector. I know that you cannot be expected to marry for love, but who can in these times?"

Turning seriously to her, his voice changed, "You must stay in Nicaea, no one would dare make an attempt against your life while you are in my company. I know not what my father plans for you, but you must not be allowed to wander around the countryside unprotected."

Anna smiled coyly. "And what if I found someone I loved, would you make such a union possible? Marriage is a solution seemingly impossible at the moment, father does not seem to wish it. I must admit, I do not find the idea of being cloistered in this city much appealing and while I am unmarried I have certain duties I must attend to. What do you propose?"

Standing up, Ioannis began to pace around the room, "It would depend on who it was that you loved."

Pausing for a moment, Ioannis continued, "Now you desire my counsel. Try and find out who these people are who seek your life. It shall not be easy, but you are a woman with a sharp mind. Think, is there any suitor you have jilted? Any foreigner you have met lately?"

She looked at him in confusion. "Is that a jest brother? I've been living with foreigners for the past three years, no need to remind me of that. As for enemies, I must have many, mostly jealous rivals of my suitors probably. One name comes to mind, but I doubt he would go so far as to attempt to eliminate me."

Looking apologetic, Ioannis replied, "Forgive me, sister, but it seems that I cannot give you any reasonable advice. I will pray that you outwit your enemies."

Standing up he gestured towards the door, "Now, come and meet some of the Komnenodoukai's generals, who serve our father and myself so well."

"As you wish, brother." Anna answered formally as he led her to the men she would meet. He could dismiss her for now, but as always, she would persist until she got what she wanted.