The Byzantine Wager

Chapter 58 - A Close Shave

Chapter 58 - 

A Close Shave

Pons frothed up lye soap into a lather and dabbed it on the cheeks and neck of the Sabastocrator. John Ducas was seated with his back to Pons on a stone bench. His feet dangled into the warm water of the baths. Steam rose obscuring the other bathers.

Pons stropped his shaving blade. He preferred copper as he found it easier to sharpen. "Our dashing young friend had best not come around the capital again. If Emperor Andronikos did not notice him before... he does now."

"Oh Theodore is long gone to his home province. His endeavor gathers pace, however. An actual leader has agreed to join forces to help protect Emperor Alexios. It seems that there are a few right minded nobles left after all. General Lepardis called 'The Hawk' has an eye keen enough to see Andronikos for who he really is. The sons of Admiral Angelos are actively recruiting on their estates as we speak."

If the Greek noble had any qualms about leaving his throat exposed to the Latin's razor, he gave no indication. Pons scraped the whiskers from under the old diplomat's chin. John Ducas had to use both of his hands to keep his voluminous beard out of the way of the complicated procedure of hands, arms, and blade. Both men were as naked as the day they were born. Pons was still lean and trim. Nude, it was clear he was not simply missing an ear, he had older scars. John Ducas, two decades older, was saggy and flabby, with varicose veins, and a neck so wattled under his beard it was all Pons could do not to slice the fellow. "This spring, is it?"

"If you were to find yourself in the city of Nicea by April, I am sure that you will find a welcome and someone will find a use for you."

"What are the chances?"

"I am staying here."

"That says a lot. Perhaps I should stay as well."

"Oh, do not misread my intention. I wish nothing but the best for 'the Hawk,'Admiral Angelos, and the young fellow who is trying to grow a mustache. I am strongly in favor of Emperor Alexios having a long stable rule, free from the influence of that scoundrel. However, someone will have to run things here in the capital while that scoundrel is in the field trying to crush you. Look at my fat gut. I cannot even sit on a horse these days without bleeding from hemorrhoids. What use would I be in a battle? Also, my son is a dolt. He could not general the kitchen servants in a porridge fight."

Pons carefully scraped the senator's Adams apple.

"You might as well try fighting," John Ducas continued. "You and your friend with his deadly invention could help. What a horrible thing. To kill someone a hundred paces away simply by moving your finger. Ghastly."

"Not so terrible if it kills Andronikos?"

"It will not work. His robes are like armor. Your boy's crossbow bolt may hit him, but it will not cut through the silk. It may hurt him, unhorse him, puncture and leave a scar even, but it will not kill him. Any army surgeon could simply tug at the silk to pop the arrowhead out of the wound. Margrave Guilhelm said you are a barber surgeon. Have you heard of that trick?"

"There is very little silk worn in the west."

"Have you felt silk with your fingers? No? My outer robes are made of silk as well. You have my leave to touch them while I dress later, there is nothing like it. Angels must garb in it."

"Very kind."

"Go fight. Join young Kantakouzenos. It is not as though you are doing anything here in the city."

"Will Andronikos strike before or after he has his wife's bones reburied?"

"Helena? Aaah. What a lovely lady. So devoted. So sad. I did not know this."

"Moving her to Forty Martyrs."

Pons cleaned his blade and moved to shave to the magistrate's cheeks.

I know something you did not know, and now you know that I am someone to be reckoned with.

"Nicaea? I have never been. Is it nice?"