Chapter 17
All those connections and she ended up in Sennar.
Poor Agnes.
As if finally too tired, at her well advanced age, to have to deal with the indignities of peasant rebels, the pious Agnes quietly passes away at 78 of natural causes. The wife and mother of former Kaisers of the Holy Roman Empire, sister to dukes, and the later wife of the last Christian King of Abyssinia, Agnes lived to see many changes in the world, some good and some bad. All of the good ones happened back in Germany, of course.
And yet, my piety is less than his, much less. Life is not fair.
My sordid chancellor Geteye also passes away, from syphilis, his body finally tired of living out his many baser desires. He died content with his depraved life. I will always be appreciative of him for helping me convince Basileus Michael to take me as a vassal, and this is why I kept him on in his role, even though Nikodemos was immensely more suited. I move Nikodemos—for whom I have great new-found appreciation—to the role of Chancellor and start looking for a Greek marshal.
Nikephorus of Deuteron is willing to come to my court. He will do so in the vain hope that I will press his claims for some barony. I have many chancellors who came in the vain hope that I will press a claim on a county. Now I have someone willing to assign himself to this arid purgatory for a mere barony? The standards of the Byzantines seem to be slipping. In any case, maybe he can help us get rid of these damn rebels. It is only after he arrives that I realize his is craven, which is not what you would like to see in the head of your military. But given that our levee could not handle peasants, perhaps cravenness in our marshal is fitting.
The rebels have taken to getting drunk on tej that they steal from the merchants and getting into fights and carousing at all hours of the night. Occasionally they light a building on fire, too. All of this further erodes support for their cause from the general population. They seem all too happy to be transitioning from peasant rebels full of righteous anger at ethnic and religious injustice to mere bandits. Spymaster Anastasios is having some of his local Ethiopian contacts drop hints about Muslim treasures in the north. He’s hoping that the rebels go off in search of the plunder which is absent here.
“The Drunkard” has rewarded my “service” with the honorary title of Anthypatos. It signifies my inclusion into a class above the “patrikioi”, whoever they are. Given that I have done nothing for the Empire, I think Basileus Michael’s clear sentiment behind the award is, “I can’t fulfill my obligation to help you right now, so instead I’ll give you this empty title.” Still, it does feel good—I mean, he could have not helped me
and not sent anything. Nikodemos tells me that the award comes with a beautiful purple inscribed tablet… which they will hold for me in the capital city for safekeeping. That’s probably just as well, the rebels would probably steal it.
Sure enough, with instructions to improve my name with the bishop, the Chaplain Gebereal has only managed to sully my name with Bishop Afework. But he has also gone above and beyond the call of duty and talked with Mayor Abai, sullying my name with him, too. Then I notice he has tried to deflect blame from himself by signing Nikodemos’ name to these letters when even the messenger delivering them tells me they are from the chaplain himself. The new marshal Nikephorus hears of this and, being wroth, storms off to talk to the chaplain, saying that this is a capital offence and he had better make the bishop love me or his head will be stuck on a pole at the town gates. I love these Greeks.
And he has the Zagwe condescending look, too.
My son comes of age and assumes the responsibilities of an adult. I am quite impressed that I was able to father a son like him: charitable, brave, kind, and diligent, with no vices of any kind in his manner. He is masterful at intrigue and quite capable at diplomacy and the martial skills as well. His only drawback is his inheritance of his great-grandfather’s lack of care at stewardship and fiscal responsibility.
He is fully Greek in his manners and Orthodox in his beliefs. Tragically, despite my deep affection for him he despises me for all my vices and failings. Perhaps one day he will appreciate everything I have done for our people. In the meantime, though, I need to get him married as soon as possible.
Sibylla, you might want to be more specific in your goals. Welcome to the social ladder of Sennar.
I begin negotiations with the liege of Sibylla Tarchaneiotes for her hand in marriage. Sibylla is not too amazing, but she is not bad either. The aspiring poet is arbitrary, but she is also temperate, gregarious, humble, and honest. Of course, her best virtue is that she carries with her an alliance with her brother, a Doux
who is also a vassal of the Byzantine Basileus. Sibylla’s not hating me is also something that endears her to me, but her opinion of me will doubtless change for the worse as soon as she arrives.
Nikephorus would like to start discussing some possible infidel realms we could invade once we have acquired our new ally. I flatly refuse. Poor man—he does not get it yet. This is Sennar. Nothing goes as well as planned here. They usually go much, much worse. Why plan that far ahead? Our ally the Doux will probably drop dead of some rare illness right after the wedding.
Things are looking good for the proposed wedding. Why does that make me nervous?
Two things happen simultaneously that are both momentous in their own right, which makes me think they must somehow be connected.
Nikephorus and Anastasios have relieved us of the rebel scourge, proving their inestimable value. Taking up Anastasios’ ploy with the rebels and expanding it, Nikephorus convinced the rebels that Anastasios has learned of infidel tribute treasure being held in a loosely-guarded town in Axum, where it will soon be transported to the Caliph in Gondar. I would not have thought the rebels so stupid as to fall for this, but they have grown extremely frustrated at the lack of anything valuable in Sennar, and this makes them gullible. As we watch the rebels leave town on their “raid”, Nikephorus tells me this is the last we will see of these rebels. I don't want to know the details. He does turn out to be correct.
The day seems to be going well. Later on, however, for some reason it occurs to me to check on the hidden sacred knuckle bone of Severus. Unfortunately, it is now gone.