Immediately the plaza exploded into chaos.
One second, Nikolaios could see two men, one headed towards the
Basilieus, the other towards Michael, daggers drawn. There was a flash of knives, before a storm of swords burst as stunned guardsmen finally reacted, storming into the fray. Nikolaios felt Ioannis' stronger hands grabbing him and shoving him away from the tumult, and the last he saw of his friend was Ioannis drawing his blade and charging towards the Emperor. He heard Isaakios Thrakesios' voice above the din - "Secure the
Sebastokrator!" Hands lifted Nikolaios up, and suddenly he was surrounded by a sea of soldiers, pressed tight, pushing through the screaming crowd. He tried to turn, tried to see what had happened. He couldn't hear the clash of blades even above the shouts of all around.
"What is going on!?" Nikolaios cried to someone, anyone, only to hear the cries of chaos all about him.
The guards did not break away from him even as they rushed into the Great Palace, its almost finished interior now filled with servants rushing about. He could hear calls demanding for chirugeons, shouts for order, and above it all
Strategos Thrakesios barking for people to move out of the way or face his blade. Nikolaios shouted again, and finally the elder Thrakesios broke through the circle of soldiers.
"There's been an attempt on your father's life," Isaakios said unnecessarily, "we're taking you to the Octagon throne room for your own safety! The
Varangoi and
Kappadokia regiments are already there, you'll have a thousand bodyguards around your person!"
"What happened to Ioannis! Where is my father! Where is my mother!" A thousand questions tumbled from Nikolaios' mouth. Thrakesios' lips were locked in grim silence, as the cluster of soldiers pressed onwards.
Finally the storm of steel broke in the Octagon, the great throne room normally used by Emperors for great state occasions. Thrakesios promptly left, leaving Nikolaios alone in a sea of armored guardsmen. Amidst its splendid tapestries and artwork, all renovated and restored under Demetrios, Nikolaios felt tiny and alone. To reinforce the point, the fresh and new banners of Demetrios' victories over his foes hung above Nikolaios' head like some sword of Damocles. All the walls of the room were lined with grim looking Varangians and Kappadokian guardsmen, their weapons at ready, their eyes constantly looking about, checking every window, crevice and tapestry for assassins.
One of the Varangian guardsmen who were set up to keep guard over Nikolaios after the assassination attempt
It seemed like an eternity before the doors to the hall opened, and both Thrakesios and his son entered the room, grim looks on their faces. Nikolaios noticed that Ioannis' sword was out of its scabbard, half its length caked with the crusty brown of dried blood. The younger Thrakesios' face was full of worry, while the elder's face was dark with fury.
"What happened? Where is my father? Where.." Nikolaios charged towards them.
"Your mother is fine," the
Strategos stopped and bowed, "she is currently in her quarters, also secured. Your father and Michael were attacked by two men we have determined were likely part of the
hashashin..." Nikolaios guessed the blood on Ioannis' sword belonged to at least one of the assassins.
"Nik," Ioannis raised a hand, and stopped his father from talking. The elder Thrakesios chewed his lips with unspent anger at the vile curs who had done this, but stopped talking to let his son speak. "The blades were covered with a poison, the chirugeons have not discovered which," Ioannis said gently. "Their wounds are severe, and the poisons are only making matters worse."
Both the Basilieus and Michael were adversely affected by the poison on the assassin's blade
"Well, have they tried anything?!" Nikolaios snapped.
"Mithradatium, hemlock, they are still trying..." Ioannis said gently. "The results are in doubt, Nik..." Nikolaios felt his friend's hand come to his shoulder, and with that touch, there was an immediate change.
Within the sea of turbulent emotions, a moment of clarity rose in Nikolaios' mind. If Michael
and Demetrios died, the Imperial throne would be up for grabs. Demetrios had named no
Kaisar, and chaos and ruin would be the result. Second, his mother's words stuck into his mind. Her reminder for him to observe protocol could be seen as suspicious... he needed to act quickly. He stood in place, closed his eyes, calming himself, pushing his fear, his anger, his own concerns aside. The Greeks did not believe logic could be exercised in moments of passion, and he focused himself by reciting in his mind as much literature as possible. It seemed like an eternity, but he felt his pulse slowing, his breathing becoming normal, and he opened his eyes.
"
Strategos," he said quietly, his voice gaining momentum as he spoke, "I want the army to use its power to declare me
Kaisar until the situation with my father is resolved."
"Highness?" Thrakesios asked uneasily. "You are but thirteen, there will be..."
"I am also the son of Demetrios Megos, and I have no doubt you will be able to bring the army to my side," Nikolaios said simply, walking towards the commander. "The army has always taken as its duty the role of making sure the Imperial throne is in strong and secure hands. Now I ask you to perform that role. It will only be temporary, until the health of my brother and father are restored."
"Hi..." Thrakesios started to protest, before the Prince narrowed his eyes.
Shakily, the foremost
Strategos in the Empire came to attention.
"Inform the Imperial Council members they are to meet here in one hour, but do not tell them who calls the meeting," Nikolaios added. Leaving that tidbit out would keep them off balance until they arrived. The Crown Prince had no idea who had ordered the assassination, but clearly they had fingers deep into the city bureaucracy. He would need that hour to plan, he couldn't afford to have the others doing the same.
"Yes, Highness."
Survival was the goal in Romanoi politics, and the years of training, of information his mother had impressed into him from a young age were now at work. Nikolaios' mind worked quickly, drawing up lists of people he knew might want to do this, of people who might be forced into doing this, and people who likely knew nothing about the whole affair.
Of the council, it was obviously apparent Isaakios Thrakesios, despite his position as the preeminent general of the Empire and the wide respect he held within the army, had nothing to do with the attack. He and Demetrios were personal friends, and he would have had little to gain from trying to take the throne. Additionally, if he had
really wanted the throne, why had he not already killed Nikolaios when he had the Crown Prince within his power?
Then there was the
Logothetes Theophano... she had long been a source of stability in the government. She was childless with few relatives, and her husband was old and decrepit. In short, she posed no potential threat either. Neither did the
Megos Domestikos - Kamal Qasim was a Saracen by blood even if he was an Christian by baptism, which meant he was highly reliant on the Emperor.
The
Megas Doux was a potential problem. Lord Kaukadenos had ensured the rise of Demetrios Komnenos to the throne and revealed the conspiracy by Nikolaios' great uncle - he'd thus shown himself capable of duplicity. He was the first on the suspect list so far. Nikolaios carefully thought about the remaining members of the Council, and one by one he grew convinced they had no reason to order an attack on his father.
Finally Nikolaios arrived at the last person in the Council - his own mother. While they were on campaign, she'd amassed a great deal of power, being both the
Logothetes in charge of finances, and the
logothetes in charge of intelligence. The first thing Hajnal taught her son was that too much power in the hands of anyone was dangerous - and Nikolaios resolved as a display of his authority, and a public act to signal he was his own man, he would take intelligence responsibilities from his mother and place them in the hands of Isaakios Thrakesios. The
strategos was respected, and had no formal position on the Council - if possible, he wanted Thrakesios somehow involved in the inevitable Regency. This would formalize his presence - and Nikolaios wanted to have at least one other person on the Council aside from his mother that he could trust. He knew she detested his father, but he could not imagine her ordering something so heinous as this.
When the doors to the Octagonal room opened an hour later, Nikolaios was ready.
======================================================================
"How is my father?" a tired and weary Nikolaios asked some three hours later. The last angry footfalls of Lord Kaukadenos could be heard in the hallway outside the Octagon as the great doors slowly closed. Within the chamber, Nikolaios was alone with Ioannis, save the enormous bevy of guards that stood around.
"He is asleep," Ioannis whispered quietly. "They found the poison - it was a combination of wolfbane and a liquid found from the wastes of castor oil." Nikolaios could tell by the slight tremble in his friend's voice something was wrong.
"What else?"
"How did the meeting go?" Ioannis shifted the subject. Nikolaios grimaced.
"Theopano Byrennios and your father will act as joint Regents, with my consultation," Nikolaios sighed, "their power lasting so long as the
Basilieus remains incapacitated." Nikolaios had been pleased that he'd gotten Thrakesios to take the position - with his support of the arrangement, that guaranteed the army would support the arrangement. It avoided any resemblance of favoritism towards Hajnal, and put loyal people in charge, and with the army's backing, the nobility might grumble, but they could do little. "Mother wailed and screamed at me when she found the army had declared me
Kaisar and that I was stripping her of one of her positions. She positively begged me not to hand the intelligence
logothetes to anyone else - to the point she offered to surrender her fiscal post," Nikolaios frowned, worrying over what his friend was hiding from him. "Kaukadenos accused me of plotting a coup, and I had to restrain your father from striking him."
"Father is understandably upset by this," Ioannis whispered quietly. "Why do you think your mother didn't want to give up her
logothetes spot?" Ioannis asked, further avoiding telling Nikolaios what bothered him.
"I have no idea," Nikolaios said, glancing towards the window. The sun was setting on this long, hard day, and the Crown Prince could feel the reserve, the strength he'd built up to get through the meeting, to get through the politics, start to break down. "I couldn't approve of her keeping the position - she's too skilled at running Imperial finances, and she couldn't have two posts. Theophano and your father agreed, and once that happened, my mother's face went ashen," Nikolaios restrained himself even more... he knew he couldn't hold for long when a single tear started down his face.
"Nik?" Ioannis started to hug his friend, and finally all of Nikolaios' reserve, will and mental strength broke down. He slowly sank to the floor, sobbing into hisfriends arms - frightened for himself, and for the future. For the time being, Nikolaios didn't care what the news was that Ioannis had held from him, or what happened in the labyrinth of Romanoi politics - he was nothing more than a scared little boy, forced to grow up before his time.
Neither Nikolaios nor Ioannis heard the door to the chamber crack open, and neither saw the elder Thrakesios peek into the room. The
Strategos had a momentary delay in his decision, before he let the door quietly shut again. Now was not the time to tell the Crown Prince that Michael was no more.
Michael Komnenos, 1186-1105
=============================== ==========================
Thus ends the life of perhaps one of the more worthy Komnenids who never saw the throne.
Poor Michael never really wanted to be involved in Imperial politics, yet Byzantine court life knows no prisoners, nor any bystanders.
For those more interested in the wider world, here are two images to satisfy your curiosity.
The first shows the state of Romanion after the Cyrenaican and First Seljuk Wars. The Anatolian and trans-Danube borders are cut off, as there was no change. However, Romanion has made significant inroads into Egypt, despite the Norman presence, and controls all of the Levant.
The second shows what Romanion will shortly have to contend with...