A Painted Shield of Honour

[edyzmedieval]

Chapter XVI - On the Offensive

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Afternoon
Late October 1313
Galata Quarter
Constantinople
Byzantine Empire

Scraping sounds reverberated in the tunnel as the two unsheathed their swords, Raymond wincing in anticipation of retaliation. Fortunately for them, the only retaliation they received was silence. There was no one with them. And most of their sounds were muffled by the ruckus in the quarter. Wary, Raymond and Balian climbed the ladder towards the opening overlooking the main lower floor hall of the Galata tower. With no soul above them, Raymond grabbed the handrail of the iron stairs tightly with one hand, sword in the other, and pushed aside with the side of his clenched fist the covering that blocked their way. Encountering resistance, Raymond smashed the cover with the hilt of his sword, knocking it out of its hinges with a loud crashing sound that rang in his ears. The shield used to cover the opening broke into small bits littering the marble floor of the tower.


Raymond peeked through the opening.

“Rather surprising.”

“What is?” asked Balian.

He did not reply. They climbed out of the shaft and stood for a couple of seconds idle, expecting at least a guard to come forwards and check up on the sounds. No one. The two sheathed their swords back in their scabbards. Raymond motioned with his head.

"Seems clear. At least for the moment. Let's move, Balian."

Nodding, Balian lurched forward into the hall of the tower, at the same time as a guard sprang from the other corner, right in front of them. For a couple of moments, the guard stood pinned to his spot, his mouth agape, unsure of what to make of the two armoured intruders in the tower. Balian reacted faster than Raymond, leaping to the guard's neck with his sword and slashing the man's jugular faster than he could even manage to switch his neck's position. Cushioned by the Templar, the man fell to the ground with a soft thud on the marble floor.

“I did not like it, but I had to,” whispered Balian.

Raymond did not reply. He placed a hand on Balian's shoulder and urged him forwards. To their right, they noticed a large door blocking the entrance inside the hall, which Raymond suspected was locked from the outside rather than inside. The round handle of the door peered through the shadows, as did the unsprung lock, but neither of them wanted to test the door. Balian motioned with his fingers around the tower.

“Do we take care of the guards now or do we do it once we come back?”

“Forget about them for the moment. They are locked outside, they cannot get in and help the other guards. Upstairs is what we are looking for. Follow me closely, and be on the lookout for any other guards.”

With one quick, sweeping glance of the surroundings, Raymond realised the actual tower was only a wider and shorter copy of the Byzantine tower located at the south-eastern tip of the Galatan colony. It was a simple guarding tower used by the Genoese Podesta to make himself look more important in the faces of his subjects. It was not a square-shaped keep, nor was it as tall or as fortified as a citadel tower, but it provided protection whenever it was needed. They raced up the stairs and rapidly reached the first level, the dormitories of the guards judging by the items inside the chambers. Three other guards were sleeping soundly inside so there was no need for any disturbance unless they were looking for a fight. Motioning forward, Raymond and Balian left the floor and headed up the stairs once again, just about to reach the second level when they heard loud words coming from inside the dormitories.

One of the doors however was slightly ajar, piquing Raymond's curiosity. Glancing through the door slit, Raymond could see no one until Balian barged him intentionally forwards, ending up both in full view of an armed guard with a tall, sharp halberd in his hands. Before both parties could fully comprehend the situation, a small puncture opened in the guard's neck that sent him sprawling to the ground with a soft thud. Raymond turned towards Balian in shock, only to see him smile mischievously and raise into view a small brown tube.

“What is that? Where did you get it from?” whispered Raymond.

“It's called a solenarion. A Byzantine invention, I bought it from one of the Greek sailors who were on the ship with us while we were heading towards Rome. He desperately needed some money so he sold me this. He also taught me how to use it.”

“It resembles a tube.”

“It is supposed to shoot small arrows with the help of a bow, as an arrow guide, but he reconfigured it when he saw some Venetian swashbuckler use the same method. Take the bolt, slide it inside the tube, and blow. The length of the tube ensures some accuracy, but more than a couple of meters it will not go.”

“Alright. Let us leave fast, I do not want the guards to see us when they discover their man.”

Returning to the spiral stairs of the small tower, Raymond raced to the top level and found himself in front of a large unlocked iron door. As Raymond peered through the door, Balian looked around but could only see blank white walls, the spiral stairs and a small oval-shaped window a couple of meters up on the wall where nobody could reach it. It was the only light that entered the tower on this floor, but luckily for them, the sun was shining brightly enough to eliminate the need for a torch.


Glancing with one eye through the opening, Raymond could see one man with his back turned, dressed in ceremonial attire. Presumably, it was the Podesta himself but to Raymond's dismay, the man was not alone. He was flanked by two guards pacing the far corner of the chamber, sometimes advancing only a couple of paces away from the door. Ceremonious, the man turned around and easily paced through the chamber. Raymond could now see that he attentively examined a leather-bound book with gold insertions on the cover, a wide smile pursing his lips. The guards stepped away from the Podesta, heading towards the door that led to the stone balcony overlooking the Golden Horn, the opening right ahead of the Templars' position.

Raymond shook his head to Balian.

“Draw your sword and pass me the dagger.”

Raymond took Balian's dagger and closed in on the opening. With his fingers clenched on the side of the blade, he threw the dagger towards the podesta but missed rather spectacularly, the sharp blade smashing into the stained glass beside the balcony door. The odd scraping sound drew the guards' attention but the Templars managed to squeeze through the door and hide in the left corner, shielded from open view by wooden racks filled with leather-bound books. In the opposite corner of the room, a rectangular wooden table held two potter amphorae placed atop, surrounded by pieces of hardened bread and bits of some kind of cooked meat beside it.

Raymond glanced as the guards returned moments later, baffled at the sudden apparition of a silver dagger that smashed into the window of the office. Behind the amphorae, the Podesta himself looked rather crestfallen, his face a ghastly white with beads of sweat appearing at his grey temples. His hands were shaking and he was forced to put down the book he had in his hands to prevent it from crashing to the floor.

"They don't seem to understand. They think it's from the protests, someone threw a dagger at his office," said Raymond.

"What do we do with him? He's not a problem we want to deal with."

“Distract him to his chamber and we lock him out. That way we have enough time to explore this whole place.”

Raymond switched his positioned and tip-toed forwards, his head crouched beside the wooden racks, drawing closer and closer to the guards. As he closed in, the Podesta waved off the guards and retreated to his chamber, leaving the two armed men for him and Balian to deal with. All alone, the guards did not notice the incoming threat. The Templars were only a few feet away from them and had the element of surprise.

In splendid coordination, Raymond and Balian burst from the cover of the racks and charged toward the two guards. With both of them turned towards the broken glass and balcony, the Templars had no issue in downing them rather easily. Remembering there was still one more task to do, Balian rushed towards the door and closed it shut, destroying the lock by a simple sword blow that jammed it outside of its position. With the Podesta and the guards now out of the way, they had a free hand.

Raymond blocked the entrance to the apartment from the tower and went straight for the nearest bookshelf, hoping to find something of use. To his right, Balian took a moment and stepped outside onto the balcony, the breathtaking view too enticing to refuse for Balian. The whole splendour of Constantinople unravelled before his eyes, the natural port of the Golden Horn a bustling space filled with ships coming and leaving at an astonishing rate. The Bosphorus strait itself was filled with numerous warships and merchant galleys waiting to enter the other ports of Constantinople, manoeuvre space at a premium for every vessel ready to unload its cargo. Going to the edge of the balcony, Balian tightly gripped the iron rails as his heart sank inside him. He felt an invisible hand choke him slowly, an iron fist closing around his neck like the tightest of ropes, the sight shattering the calm moments from before.

“Raymond! Amalric is in the midst of the battle with the Genoese guards!”

Raymond dropped the golden book he held and rushed to the edge of the balcony, only to see that Balian's loud rasping was true to the word. It was not hard to spot Amalric's imposing stature delivering quick blows to each side as he tried to break the organised line of the Genoese guards. The more blows he lashed out, the more blows he received in return. At the existing pace, he was slowly crumbling underneath the organised defence of the hardened warriors in the pay of the Genoese, and with him whittling between the guards, the rebellion gave way as well. The merchants were no match for the guards even with Amalric's inspired leadership.

“Rush!” shouted Balian.

Raymond wavered for a couple of moments.

“Somebody must look for the document while we are gone!”

Raymond nodded. “We do it together. And we do it now. I know it is hard, but Amalric can manage it for himself for the time being. And the faster we do it, the faster we can help him. Move now!”

Balian barged back inside the apartment and started scurrying all over the racks and shelves placed all over, skipping every book title to check whether it was the right one. Tens of minutes passed without any success until Raymond decided they needed a different approach. Balian let out a sigh of relief and looked toward his brother.

“Most probably it is in a large and carefully decorated book that contains the political advancements of the Genoese republic. Check with care, it must be here.”

Another couple of minutes agonizingly passed as they scoured through the racks. Nothing. It was either hidden, or it was not to be there. Balian's voice eventually broke Raymond's thoughts and the constant rattle from outside as well.

“I found it,” replied Balian triumphantly.

Raymond moved to Balian and looked closer at a somewhat worn red leather-bound book embroidered with gold letters that spelt out Respublica Genoa in Latin. They opened the heavy collection of treaties and scanned every vellum page with care until they found what they needed. The Genoese treaty dealt with the Templar Knights.

“Genoese treaties, all the copies. The original is in Genoa most likely, but a copy that is reproduced exactly as the original will work for us.”

“How sure are we this is going to help us?” asked Balian, somewhat suspicious regarding the real value of the treaty in front of them.

“We have nothing better. We had to take something from Constantinople, and since there is nothing we could gain from these Romans, it had to be our old partners the Genoese. Take it, and keep it with the rest inside your garments for safekeeping.”

“The whole book?” said Balian, rather surprised.

“Rip the original treaty apart. Or cut it with the dagger so there will be no edges. Roll it carefully and slide it inside.”

Balian took the dagger from his brother's hand and ripped the treaty apart, sliding the document with the utmost care into a small pouch underneath his armour. They scurried out of the Podesta's apartment and descended the stairs slowly and without any sound, checking every floor to see if the guards woke up and were on patrol. No soul in their way, they rushed to the entrance of the tower only to find the door broken at its hinges and the lock crushed into small bits by axe blows. Raymond frowned as he took a closer look at the sheared metal. It offered him no clues but it did tell him no one else was around, and as the situation shaped up, the merchant revolt was more than a simple uprising by now.

Apart from a couple of sounds coming from the main boulevard which were probably from the rioters, everything else was silent. Only the seagulls were roaming around the mansion grounds, shrieking their playful wails from the top of the roofs they sat atop. Not waiting to be told to leave the place, Raymond and Balian sped up until they ended back in the side streets of the Genoese colony beside a large tavern that was bustling with people. They were safe for the moment, but they had to find Amalric.

Leaving the tavern behind, they reached the main boulevard of the Genoese colony once again. Raymond spotted the large gathering of people coming towards them but did not discern much because of the distance. He did not realise what was going on until he felt his hand pulled heavily from behind that nearly threw him to the ground.

“Run!” yelled Balian.

Raymond had no idea what was going on and where to head, but he followed Balian without any questions. Balian somehow was running with incredible speed, Raymond barely able to keep up the pace on the narrow streets lining up cubic houses on one side and imposing Roman-style villas on the other. Balian stopped in his tracks and glanced around, spotting an old mansion between the villas that looked like a derelict ship about to sink. The boulevard was to their left, parallel with the narrow street they ran through, along with the house. He smashed the wooden door of the broken houses with the edgy handle of his sword and dragged Raymond inside, leading him to the first floor of the building. The whole house was deserted except for the shattered planks of wood, pottery and other items that littered the damp floor.

"Alright, explain. You nearly threw me off the ground. What are we doing here?" asked Raymond.

"Genoese guards. Those you saw. You know, the ones you did not react to. If we do not find Amalric soon we're going to be leaving this place just me and you."

"Fair."

Panting heavily, Raymond drew closer to the windows. He scanned the rows of houses but also kept a close watch on the ever-approaching contingent of guards who by that time were banging their swords and axes against their shields.

“I hear it. Can you see him anywhere?”

“I saw him from the balcony, and in that case, it was to our left. The guards are approaching from our right, and there is a possibility we might end up fighting the guards as well along with the rioting merchants. We are trapped in between them.”

"Alright. Any other ideas?"

"None. We fight both. Or find a way to just get Amalric out of it."

“So it is. March!”

Balian and Raymond raced down the stairs and out of the house, crossing the main boulevard, rather strangely devoid of people. They took to the side streets parallel with the boulevard on the right, running between houses, inns and taverns that were packed with people instigating a full revolt against the Genoese legate. With each street they passed and each person they knocked from their path, their desperation grew bigger and bigger as neither of them could see Amalric. Their lungs protested with each stride, their breathing aching their throats and their legs not far from buckling under the stress of the streets either. They wandered for another couple of minutes until they reached the entrance of the port, swarmed by a large group of merchants and the militias who joined their side were planning their attack on the Genoese guards. Raymond approached one of the merchants and hailed him, only to notice it was the same merchant who Amalric brusquely approached beforehand.

“Have you seen the tall knight somewhere in these areas?”

“Th-the one that has fought the guards with the merchants? The one that approached me before?” replied the merchant.

The fear was visible in his grey eyes. He banked his whole body to the left and away from Raymond, afraid of any other aggressions.

“Yes.”

The merchant nodded, his voice almost a screeching yell.
“He has disappeared after the fight was over, he headed for the main gate. He is injured!”

He yanked his hand from Raymond's grip and slid away from the two knights as fast as he could. Raymond frowned. If Amalric had indeed left for the gate, then there would be no chance of them finding him before the guards got to him.

“We go towards the guards. No other way. And look at the buildings and on each street, no matter how long it is.”

Unseen and unheard, desperation slowly crept inside their minds. Once they closed in enough to the guards, Raymond and Balian could see the Genoese soldiers as they posted roadblocks and dealt with resistance pockets that were hurling stones and molten oil toward them from the rooftops of the houses. Fights erupted between the armed rioters and the soldiers who only managed to give more time to the knights in their frantic search.

But they found Amalric, with a good dose of luck, much to their relief.
Amalric rested against the corner of a building at the crossroads of the main boulevard, his face white as milk and his only eyes half open from the misery he was enduring. A gashing wound spread from his abdomen just over the appendix, a battle mark that impeded his movement and eventually forced him to drop to the floor at the corner of the building. Amalric ripped his tunic apart and knot it tightly around the wound in a makeshift attempt but it was not strong enough to contain the bleeding. Balian stood down and pressed against his wound, Amalric returning to his senses for a couple of moments. His sword was gone, and his face was full of bruises. He did not react when the Templars came to his side, and it took him some effort to even utter words.

“Water,” said Amalric in a faint voice. “I want water...”

“No, it will only make it worse. Can you walk?”

A couple of long seconds passed agonizingly. “Yes, barely.”

“We have to go back to Constantinople until he is ready to fight once more.”

“I can fight,” protested Amalric.

“Not by a long league. Let us head towards Constantinople and we see after what we shall do.”

“And how do we deal with the guards? They will block our way path at the gate,” replied Balian.

“Take the port. We can find a ship that transits Galata and Constantinople.”

To their relief, and with Amalric on their shoulders, the Galatan port was untroubled by guards and it was certainly no longer swarmed by merchants either. Shortly before darkness set in, the three arrived in Constantinople, with Amalric in a worse and worse state with every minute that passed. With some disapproving grunts, the monks tending to the city hospital beside the Hagia Sophia took him in for treatment. With Amalric now in the hands of the monks, Balian signalled Raymond and the two left Amalric in the hospital for the night, heading back into the streets that were now almost empty.

“At least he is in a safe place now. Should we go back to the inn we visited yesterday? I am sure the keeper would be more than delighted to see us,” said Balian.

“Good idea. Let us go to it, we need to regain our powers until tomorrow.”

They found the inn rather easily, by now accustomed to the streets of Constantinople, entering the now broken door only to find the innkeeper collapsed on the counter. The man was snoring loudly beside a couple of broken bottles of wine smashed to pieces just a few inches from his head. Raymond slowly came to him and gently placed a hand on him, shaking him enough to open his eyes cobwebbed from the deep sleep. Confused and dazzled by the sudden apparition of the men, the innkeeper brightened his jovial expression upon the sight of his favourite guests as much as he could but it was evident the dormant nature got the best of him.

Balian smiled at him. “May we have a room for the night in your inn?”

“Yes, yes, please go upstairs! We shall talk about the pay tomorrow morning!”

“Thank you.”


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