Crusading Kings
He was unimpressive up close, the so called Kaiser. It was dark, but mere moonlight revealed the man’s inadequacies. The stump of his right arm rested on his chest, whilst that of his leg was splayed off the side of the bed. Completing the picture was the careworn face, adorned by a fresh scar on his cheek- a parting gift from the Shahzada Sokmen.
It was dirty work, of course- no honour in it, unlike slaughtering the infidels on the field of battle. But it was thought this might help preserve the Sultanate of Rum and as such Suleyman was willing to do it. He nodded at his companion, Murad, who was idly inspecting the prosthetics strewn on the floor. The man moved forward to pin their quarry, whilst Suleyman reached at the hilt of his dagger.
Had to play around with this event a little- I'm not sure a 60-year old double amputee could ''rush'' anywhere, even if his life depended on it.
Perhaps his companion was too forceful, because the misshapen wreck beneath them jolted to life. It cried out, then snarled at Murad, who recoiled grasping at his forearm. Then the wreck’s eyes met Suleyman’s own, full of determination. The face was no longer careworn, animated as it was by this life and death struggle. The Kaiser spat a piece of Murad’s flesh as Suleyman approached with the knife, a last act of defiance before turning his face away and raising the ineffective stump against the oncoming blade.
The first strike glanced off the defender’s wrist, whilst shouts of alarm and muffled footsteps could be heard in the passageway behind them. Suleyman cursed at his companion to go and bar the door, before returning to their quarry. It had rolled off awkwardly off the far side of the bed, landing with a dull thud.
Suleyman crawled over the bed in pursuit, only to find his prey shuffling under the bed. He grasped desperately at the Kaisers legs. They twisted with more dexterity than one would expect, and the one good foot landed a kick on its attacker’s stomach, before disappearing under the bedframe.
Suleyman was left to thrust into the dark space with nought but hope, and even that was failing. The door burst open behind them, and Murad was cast to the floor with a mighty blow. The tables turned, then, with the assassin left to squirm and kick as attackers grabbed at him.
He was dragged away and subdued by the guardsmen. The quarry awkwardly crawled out from its place of refuge, trailing fresh blood from its right arm. As it emerged it smiled at him, as if it had won some light-hearted game.
***
‘’You are okay, your grace?’’ Nadbor had arrived, with the second wave of the Emperor’s troops. Their initial foray into Cilicia had also been a difficult one, but the Rumites were still reeling from previous battles and Nadbor's companions Ancel of Franche-Comte and Cenek of Savoy were among the Empire's best commanders.
Konrad smiled at his son-in-law, the scar made this a challenge, but he was in an ebullient mood. ‘’God is with us, Nadbor. He has seen fit to preserve my life twice over.’’
Or I’m extremely lucky.
He said it loudly, so the troops could hear.
Nadbor spoke more quietly. ‘’Are you willing to return to Sicily now, your grace? None can doubt your courage or piety, but perhaps we shouldn’t tax God’s resources.’’
The Emperor shook his head vigorously. ‘’Sicily? I should think not. Soon there will be 40 000 imperial troops here, someone has to coordinate them.’’ The Pole winced, provoking a laugh from Konrad as he continued. ‘’But I have, perhaps, been convinced to command from a greater distance from the front.’’
‘’I am glad of it, your grace. Do you mean to stay here?’’
‘’No, that would be awkward for the Regent Eusebia. Some of my men almost lynched her after the attempt on my life. Crusading zeal and Miaphysites are an awkward mix.’’
‘’Do we know how they got in?’’
‘’Bribed one of the officers of the garrison, claiming to be refugees from the fighting. Didn’t really do anything to raise suspicion, so there’s no cause for blame.’’
Nadbor shuffled uncomfortably at the Emperor’s equanimity, but this just provoked another laugh. In his experience, conversations with the Emperor were always tinged with gentle mockery and mild condescension. ‘’Don’t worry, Nadbor, I’ve had attentive guards posted at my door since the incident.’’
He resisted the urge to ask why the Emperor didn’t
always have attentive guards posted at his door. ‘’Where do you mean to go, then?’’
Konrad shrugged. ‘’Perhaps I can make a nuisance of myself in Cyprus, or settle in one of the Cilician castles after you’ve secured them. Whatever we are assigned after the Crusade belongs to you and Hildegard, by the way. If further motivation was needed.''
The younger man was taken aback. Such advancement had always been a hope, and the very reason he had surrendered the Piast name, but it seemed he was offered a Crusader Kingdom- should the Pope adjudicate things fairly. ‘’I… thank you, your grace.’’
Konrad just shrugged again, as if handing out Kingdoms was the most natural thing in the world. Perhaps it was, for an Emperor. All that remained was for Nadbor to march forth, and secure the Kingdom of Anatolia for himself and his Hohenstaufen heirs…