The Byzantine Wager

Chapter 66 - Betrayal or Another Siege Camp on Another Rainy Night II

Chapter 66

Betrayal or Another Siege Camp on Another Rainy Night II

Mariaptikee watched the assault with the Emperor and his attendants. Standing beside Andronikos she saw it all unfold: the poor lady on the ram, the missile fire from the walls, the rescue, the charge, the fall. The knight on the black stallion - was it her lord? Please Holy Virgin, I did not even know his name. She gasped and tried to blink away the tears in the corners of her eyes.

"Sweetling, you have become excited."

"He... the poor horse," Mariapitkee stammered to cover her concern.

Andronikos bellowed to the signal man with his curling brass buccina horn. "That's enough. Sound a retreat."

"My Love, I did not know that battle would be so..."

"Battle? This is hardly a battle, my dear. This is merely an invitation to parley. You wait here, fix your eyes, and make yourself pretty once again. We may be having guests for dinner. Ahh, here comes a white flag. Come gentlemen, you can be brave enough to walk onto the field now. Let us see who has fallen."

The Imperial party sauntered down the incline.

Mariapitkee waited in an excruciating daze of worry. She had to will herself to breath slowly. The horse whinnied in screeching agony. If Andronikos brought her lord's body back and ridiculed it or performed indignities - she could not watch. Her face would betray her.

She walked forward straining to see and immediately wished she had not. The guard's poleaxe swung, ending the animal. From the city, striding forward with the flag bearer, the one who had gone over the wall rope in hand, was - her Lord's servant. Which could only mean that the body on the ground was....

She felt cold. Everything she had been hoping for cashed in the dust with him. The tears flowed freely. She felt unsteady on her feet. Was that low thunder to the north? The men on the field spoke at length. She could no longer watch, and finally retreated to the command tent which stood on the highest part of the rise overlooking Nicea.

The tent was made up of a series of connected canvas pavilions, the central hall of which was over two stories high, held aloft with a pole as tall as the mast of a ship. In the private rear quarters near a heavy cotton mattress stood a mirror, two hand spans wide and almost as tall as the Emperor, of inestimable value. A chip about the size of a wine goblet, or perhaps a shoe, was broken off of the lower left corner. The porter who had dropped it while moving it from the capital had been forced to eat the broken glass. His fellow bearers had tried to care for him in vain during the days it had taken him to die.

Mariapitkee looked at her reflection, the kohl highlighting her seductive eyes was streaked from tears and she knew she would have to begin again. She washed her face with tepid water from a nearby basin and began to adjust herself.

Why had she dreamed? Daydreams of life with her handsome lord in a castle in Italy. His handsome kinsman in a nearby castle for Eyrinee to marry. A church part way between their estates where their growing families would meet on Sundays and Saints days. The cousins growing up together.

Why had she hoped? It would never end for either her or her sister until Andronikos slaughtered them out of hand. It had all come to nothing.

Voices spoke, men entered the outer pavilion - the strategy and map room. Mariapitkee listened out of habit as she adjusted her eye cosmetics, although there was reason to listen anymore.

"Stephen, I grow weary of hearing of your financial woes just as I grow fatigued of your command ineptitude. You are epitou stratou, are you not? In command of the mercenary forces, AND also given charge of the artillery for this assault. Where is the artillery? Do not speak. The question was rhetorical, you imbecile. The artillery was reduced to ashes last night. And why? Because of your inadequate security. So now instead of an almighty dramatic assault with screaming momma Angelos as the centerpiece, I have to send her thusly, AND you cannot even muster your archers in a timely manner for this squalid sortie."

"They pretend that they do not understand. They will not listen to me and show me no respect."

"You risk my displeasure. What is to be done, Stephen? How do we assault the walls without catapults, mangonels, and trebuchet? The ones we brought came out of storage, ready to assemble. Shall we build new ones? Do you see any trees about to provide wood? No. Would you know how to build them had we the timber? How many of the siege engineers survived the raid? Could any of them tell you?"

"I have not... I do not..."

"Look at you fret. Are you crying? Are those tears? Do you get all snotty and have it simply bubble out without the nose? Never matter, I have no wish to know. Turn your back, and compose yourself, but stay. Be not sad. I have no wish to demean you, Stephen, but your chastisement is warranted."

"These men do not fear me."

"Oh Stephen, are you only to be used as a blunt weapon? Is there nothing sharp about you? Dull, dull, dull."

Mariapitkee heard the Emperor's voice louder, calling to the outer flap of the tent. "Captain, have a squad of your Varangians equipped with... not whips... flails I think - to separate the wheat from the chaff - they will accompany the epitou stratou back to his mercenaries. You may go and gather them. There is no need for a guard. Stephen shall remain, he is one of our oldest and most trusted friends."

A moment passed. A patter of rain had begun to fall on the canvas. Quietly Mariapitkee moved to the flap between the connected pavilions to listen more closely.

"That one, he is loyal and steadfast... but loyal to the boy. There is another Varangian captain, very fierce, from the land of the Rus. Do you know him?"

"I have seen him about."

"He is less loyal to the memory of my predecessor and his progeny. One night Stephen I may have another discrete task for you to perform. A blunt task. Patience. Soon. Until then, for you my old friend, I shall grant a boon."

Maraipitkee could hear the Emperor pacing the length of the outer pavilion. "I shall clear your debt with this lucky Latin who insults your integrity in front of the court. After dinner I will offer the Angelos brothers amnesty. They will be allowed to go free. The citizens of Nicea will not be harmed and there will be no sacking of the city. I know you and your men lust for it, but the Empire needs people. We cannot execute an entire city. Unless, of course, the brothers Angelos refuse my offer of surrender. In that event rape, butcher, and loot as you please. But they will not. I am sure of it. And just for you I will make it a condition that all mercenaries must be turned over for immediate execution. We do not need foreigners loitering about the borders of the empire making themselves available to our enemies. We will have them impaled before the gates. You can even have the pleasure of changing his luck yourself."

Even her lord's poor servant would only outlive him by less than a single day. Mariapitkee had no more tears.

"The Angelos can go forth to tell all the empire how clement and forgiving I am, and how their misguided father dragged them into this regretful situation. And then one dark night, a year from now perhaps, when matters are calm and there is no one remaining for any opposition to rally around, I will have you settle with the brothers."

Without warning Andronikos swung open the flap connecting the strategy pavilion and his quarters. She was revealed. The Emperor towered above her. The top of her head came to his sternum, her face at the twin tips of his forked beard.

His massive hand gently touched under her chin and tilted her head upward. "There you are, Sweetling. Let us see. Yes, better now. You can dance and play music to entertain the guests. They should be arriving shortly."

Oblivious Andronikos strode on to the outer grand pavilion. Mariapitkee was about to follow in his wake but drew up in pain as a locket of hair at the back of her head was sharply yanked.

"Hear all you wanted to hear you nosy whore?" The living skull hissed in her ear.

"I heard nothing. I was fixing my eye makeup."

"Yes. Shipwrecks most every day at the Hippodrome, never a tear, but today all weepy. Just remember, Sweetling, I am his favorite."

The voice was a rasp, followed by rolling thunder. The rain continued unabatingly.