Exadus - Well, there's not long to wait!
Kirsch27 - Things indeed are looking a little grim. I've decided I'm
not going to reveal the Mongols until they actually start to concern the main characters in this tale - keeping them a distant menace everyone
knows is coming, but the character's don't does them far more justice, I think.
asd21593 - No more teasers, at least this time. It's a full update, just for you.
AlexanderPrimus - LOL. Sinan was actually the name the random generator in CK gave the character. Any coincidence with the real Sinan is accidental!
RGB - Polished skulls might be a good sale. If the skulls were formerly Byzantine Emperors. And your target market is a man named Krum.
Enewald - The Mongols are actually rather underrated by many in terms of their ability as traders. However, I doubt coin is going to dissuade Genghis...
Thomas Komnenos, Second of That Name, Emperor of the Romans closed his eyes. For just a moment, he forgot the servants hurriedly hustling about at his sudden appearance, the palace guards averting their gaze, and the looks of confusion that were plastered on the faces of all. Empress Christina’s wing of the Blacharenae had long been considered almost as sacrosanct as the comparatively smaller apartments that housed Thomas and his own servants – so for the Emperor to walk through, unannounced, was something unusual, disturbing even.
The soon to be sixteen year old boy took no notice of the palpable tension in the air as he stalked through the corridors, no guards, no retinue, no imperial clothing even – a plain white shirt and tunic with black trousers felt far more comfortable than the robes of state. Thomas had enough on his mind, anyways, as the words of people he trusted, people he thought would never lie to him, haunted his mind.
Albrecht had first broached the subject of Thomas’ mother and the past three weeks before. Thomas remembered that night well – how fidgety and worried his best friend had looked all day, then the sudden tumbling of worries that night. Thomas had laughed them off, put on a front of tossing them aside. Albrecht had always been one to worry about plots and people trying to hurt Thomas, something Thomas appreciated. But no matter if Albrecht or Albrecht’s informant, some man calling himself
Kourouna had told him that Thomas’ own mother had engaged in such… base… acts, Thomas wouldn’t have believed them. He couldn’t believe such tales—they accused his own
mother of horrible things.
Thomas even had feigned he didn’t want the subject ever broached again. Albrecht, as always, had respected Thomas’ request to not talk about the subject further. In truth, Thomas thought, chewing on his lip, he’d asked his friend to stop because a small, tiny part of his mind wondered. Some of what Albrecht had said made sense—why Italy was such a quagmire, why the Regency had targeted the
dynatoi so forcefully that Thomas himself knew many whose family’s had been rumored to face proscription. Yet the most damning thing this
Kourouna had told Albrecht had been why Georgios and Leo had…
A Kourouma, known in English as the Crow
No. Thomas shook his head as he walked. He wouldn’t think about that. Not now. He needed a clear mind if he was to confront his mother, and even the slightest hint of those accusations rattled around in his mind, Thomas knew who would wake up. He couldn’t afford to have Acheron or Memnon interfering—not today.
Finally Thomas reached the great doors that led to the chambers of Regent Christina. A chamberlain was already waiting, his gilded staff of office tapping on bronze, making a deep, rumbling
boom that seemed to echo off the palace stones.
“Who disturbs Her Imperial Majesty?” a voice called from somewhere behind the bronze.
“His Majesty, the Emperor!” the chamberlain called back, as Thomas fidgeted. He might have forgotten Albrecht’s words, put them away in the deep recesses of his mind if it hadn’t been for another man. Thomas loved and respected Sinan of Byzantion—the
kentarchos was the only man who pushed Thomas to the limit on the practice grounds, someone Thomas felt comfortable conversing with over wine, or just after a spar. So when Sinan had approached him with his offer, it’d been as if someone had pressed bellows fueling the blaze in Thomas’ mind.
Sinan didn’t have quite the detail of accusations as Albrecht, not by far, but of all the things in the Imperial state, Thomas knew the army. And if the army was offering to forcibly put him on the throne…
…No. Thomas shook his head again. Not now. Not today.
The great bronze doors finally swung open with the loud creak of metal and wood, and slowly, Thomas walked into the chambers of Her Imperial Majesty, the Dowager Empress Christina of Dau.
Thomas was always slightly repulsed when he entered his mother’s sleeping quarters. The Emperor always felt as if he was entering a treasury vault. The floors and ceiling of the room were inlaid with semi-precious stones, and rich tapestries depicting scenes of court life adorned her walls. Her covers were always fur or ermine, deep, luxurious, and dyed tyrian purple, as were her drapes, and the curtains lining her bed. This was stark contrast to her son—Thomas hated his imperial bed, and slept on the floor whenever he could. The first time he’d done it, his servants reported his habit to his mother, and she’d delivered a fierce tongue lashing. For Thomas, it made no difference—a soldier on campaign wouldn’t have a bed of fine linens, stuffed with goose down. So Thomas had simply taken to waiting till his servants thought him asleep to switch to sleeping on the floor, and rising before they could check on him in the morning.
“Hello, my dearest boy!” Christina called from behind the curtains to her bed. Thomas looked at the stunned, confused servants in the room, and nodded towards the door. Without a word, they quickly filed out, the last closing the bronzed doors behind her.
“Hello mother,” Thomas said, walking towards the bed as the footfalls of the servants and guards disappeared into the distance. Gently, he pulled aside the curtains.
Christina of Dau might have been in her forties, but she still looked at least a decade younger. Yet today her vivacious figure wasn’t on display—instead, it hid underneath layers of rich, deep covers. Her hair lay askew in an unregal manner, and shadows drooped underneath her eyes. She’d caught a chill a few days before, tarrying on the balcony of Great Palace with a guardsman for reasons Thomas could only guess at. The churigeons had advised her to lay in bed and rest for two days.
“How is my little boy?” Christina asked cheerily. Thomas, however, saw his mother’s eyes—there was no pleasantness, simply the calculating stare he’d seen on a cobra brought in from Egypt. It made him shiver. “Have you been playing soldier again? I keep hearing all sorts of stories about how you roundly trounce men with blunted blades!”
“I have been practicing with several
kentarchii, yes,” Thomas blurted out awkwardly. He quietly cursed himself – he’d been talking only ten seconds, and she already had him on his heels. How would he be able to hold his ground when… it… came up?
“I hope my summons wasn’t too abrupt?” Christina asked, her smile hiding all the pleasantness of a dead cat.
“No, mama,” Thomas smiled awkwardly. Thomas had been just preparing to leave on a hunt with Helene and her brother Christophoros, and had to suddenly cancel the whole affair. No, it wasn’t abrupt at all, he wryly told himself. “I apologize for my delay. I was forced to change as I was about to go on a hunt.”
“Hunting and fighting,” Christina’s smile grew larger and even less sincere, “ah, such is the thing you young men do! That, and get married.” Suddenly, the all too fake smile was gone, replaced by a matronly glare. “Thomas, you turn sixteen in three weeks. Attain your majority, become a man in the eyes of the law and God. Yet…”
“Mother, I…” Thomas started to say.
“Have you considered
any of the potential brides I’ve listed?” Christina went on right over him.
Thomas knew that tone of voice. His mother was annoyed. Extremely annoyed. Thomas looked down, and shifted his feet uneasily. He hated how she made him feel like this – sheepish, foolish, that no matter what he did, he wasn’t good enough, that he’d always need her guidance, her counsel. A small part of his mind whispered back the words of Sinan of Byzantion and his friend Albrecht…
Christina sighed, leaning back. “Ach, of course you haven’t. Thomas!” she snapped, grabbing his hand. “This is very important,” she dropped her voice to that motherly, matron-like tone she used when she was correcting Thomas, or talking to Thomas’ eight year old brother. “We need to secure an alliance with
one of the major royal families in Christendom, or with a major dynasty within the Empire. You need to pick one.”
“Mother, I don’t like any of them,” Thomas managed to stammer.
Thomas heard his mother sigh, then watched her roll her eyes. “What is there not to like?!” Christina blurted out. “Adelaide Capet is a perfectly suitable girl! She’s pretty, and sister to the King of France and England. Elena Kosaca is a beauty as well, intelligent, and was very enamored of you!”
Thomas remembered well. Elena Kosaca had positively fawned over him when she’d visited the Great Palace. She’d been at ever function, even assembly that Thomas had to attend as Emperor. She’d spent long nights talking to his mother, no doubt trying to arrange a suitable dowry, among other things. He’d seen her eyes though – they had that same predatory look he saw in his mother’s, while acting almost servile in the presence of the Dowager Empress. It’d been enough to make Thomas avoid her for the entire rest of her two week stay in the capital.
“No, I um… I wasn’t interested in either of those two girls,” Thomas stuttered.
“What about Alexandra Bryennios? Or that Rus child Olga? She’s only ten, you wouldn’t be able to consummate anything for a few years, but there are brothels and she’d secure us an alliance with the
Korol’ of the Rus…”
“Um…”
“No? Then fine,” Christina blurted out with a huff. “Who would
you pick, Thomas? And you had better not say Albrecht or another boy, or I’ll slap you myself and send you off to the Patriarch!” she wagged her finger. “You spend too much time with that von Franken boy, I think! He’s a Latin, he’s far too smart for his own good! Do you know he had enough nerve to attempt to lecture Iolanda, my own
Logothetes, on the reasons why Romanion should let Alexios Komnenos stay Emperor in Spain?” Christina hissed, crossing her arms. “The nerve of that boy. Only thirteen and he thinks he knows as much as…”
“Helene Dadiani.”
“…my own
Logothetes ton… What?”
Thomas swallowed hard. The first time had been easy – he’d blurted it out while his mother was rambling, and she’d clearly not her him over her own thoughts. Now, it would be hard. Thomas blinked, as Christina impatiently raised an eyebrow.
“Um… Helene Dadiani?” Thomas said, his voice awkwardly hovering between a whisper and a cracked murmur.
“Helene Dadiani?” Christina’s lips curled into a sarcastic snarl, before she snapped her head away. “Out of the question!” the Empress waved her hand dismissively. “She’s beneath your station.”
“But mother…”
“I don’t see what you see in her anyway. She’s bone thin, hardly talks, and is a social outcast! She has that limp too, ugly little thing. Playing with a bow like she does!” Christina scoffed. “Who does she think she is? An Amazon? Too good to learn to be a part of polite society?”
Thomas scowled, anger slowly creeping into the edge of his conscious. Helene
was an excellent shot with a bow – she’d learned from the best. For Thomas, teaching her how to shoot was an excuse to spend time around her, and quiet Acheron and Memnon. What was wrong with Helene knowing how to shoot? So she was useful on the hunt, instead of sitting in camp gossiping away like other women?
“As a matter of fact, I should send her from the palace,” Christina mused, before nodding her head decisively. “Yes, that’s what I shall do. She’s finished palace school, and she’s too homely to be a lady in waiting for either myself or your future bride. Send her back to her father’s. She can play at bow and chess and, whatever else she wants…”
“…mother…” Thomas stammered. In the deep recesses of his mind, he could feel Acheron slowly starting to stir. Thomas blinked hard, trying to focus. No, he wouldn’t let Acheron interrupt!
“…off to Kaneia or something,” Christina continued her thought. “Her father wouldn’t refuse, and it’d get your mind,” she poked her son, “off of that ugly duckling so you can pick a real wife.”
“Mother, I…”
“Bah. Trust me, Thomas,” Christina bowled over her son’s protests, “the list of brides I have prepared includes some of the most intelligent and beautiful women in all of Christendom. If you can’t find some fine princess or lady to your suiting, I’ll eat one of these bedknobs!” Christina laughed. “You just have to get your mind off that… homely looking creature,” the Empress’ laughter changed to a hiss of distaste, “and actually
look at your choices. Seriously, Thomas…”
Thomas trembled. He couldn’t let Helene get sent away! She was there for him! She helped him! She kept Acheron and Memnon at bay! And his mother wanted him to give her up for some… pretty plaything that would gossip, cause intrigue, and make him miserable?
“…you’re almost a man now, as well as being an Emperor! You need to start showing the responsibility, the common sense needed to be…”
“I love her, mother!”
Thomas’ eyes went wide, horrified. He’d said it. He’d just blurted it out. There it was. He watched as his mother’s eyes went wide, her lip turning up slightly. He could feel Acheron starting to murmur, but he was too frightened to say anything. He braced himself – he knew what was coming.
“Love?” Christina asked. “Do you know what love even is, boy?” Her voice was quiet, colder than the Russian steppe.
“I…”
“You’ve bedded her, haven’t you? Blinded by lust?” Christina shrieked. “What is wrong with you, Thomas!”
“I haven’t…”
“Don’t lie to your own mother!” she barreled onwards. “You’ve bedded her, and now you’re blind to a wide world of things! Thomas, you idiot, there are more women in the world that just her! I have no doubt there are women that would please you far more than she ever will! She’s probably as tortuous in bed as she is feeble in a conversation!” Christina snarled.
“I never bedded her!” Thomas heard himself shout. He’d never taken Helene to bed! He’d never gone past giving her the most chaste of kisses! Helene was not that kind of a woman! He loved her!
“Thomas, you fool, there is more to the world besides the first woman you mount!” Christina snapped harshly. “You shan’t get my permission to marry her!”
“I don’t need your permission, mother,” Thomas hissed darkly. Acheron was now completely awake, whispering thoughts, comments. The room was starting to turn red. “I turn sixteen in two weeks. I will be in my majority, and I won’t need a Regent anymore.”
Christina laughed, a harsh, barking noise in Thomas’ ears.
“You won’t need me?” his mother repeated, before the laughter suddenly died. One of her hands lashed out, and roughly grabbed the neck of Thomas’ shirt, yanking him close. “You won’t need me?!” she hissed quietly, eyes wide, gray, flaming. “Who has steered this ship of state for the past seven years? Who put down the
dynatoi and the army where your father could not?” A smile dripping of sarcasm crossed her lips. “You’re a boy, you couldn’t rule without me.”
“I will,” Thomas said menacingly. He closed his eyes, as Acheron started to embrace his thoughts, commenting, advising. Slowly, ever so slowly, Thomas felt himself slipping away. Albrecht’s accusation bounced back and forth in the Emperor’s mind. Acheron chuckled at the words. Memnon started to stir.
“One day, maybe,” Christina leaned back and sighed. “My headstrong little man,” she smiled, sarcasm in her eyes and at the corners of her lips. “You’ll need me so long as you act like a fool, and not a man,” she said, a sickening look of sarcastic coyness on her face.
“I will,” Thomas repeated, his voice dropping to a grating whisper. Memnon started to poke Thomas’ mind, offering his opinion on Albrecht’s words. Before he could check his tongue, Thomas heard his voice growl, “For someone who says she is so needed, she has wasted my armies in a cesspool in Italy!”
“Case in point!” Christina laughed. “What better way to keep the army, that notorious bunch of money grubbers that try to lift their muddy commanders to Caesar, occupied than through an endless war! And what better way to fund that war than through the death of my enemies!”
“Many of them were not
my enemies,” Thomas hissed. He felt his breathing change, his heart started to skip. The images of friends he knew lost relatives in the purges danced in his mind, held in place by a cackling Acheron.
“They were
my enemies, and thus by extension, yours!” Christina shot back. “I am trying to keep the state strong, stable, and for this, you chastise me?!”
“No, you lift up lovers to high office, for no other reason than your own simple pleasure!” Thomas shouted, word for word, one of Albrecht’s accusations. It didn’t matter who that
Kourouna was. It made sense! How else could Georgios Komnenos had remained
Megos Domestikos? Why else would he spend so much time with her, always backing her opinions, her choices? How else could…
Christina’s jaw dropped open. Before Thomas could move, she slapped him hard across the cheek. “You pompous little bastard!” she shrieked. “How dare you!”
Thomas felt his cheek, rage burning white hot. Without thinking, he roughly grabbed his mother’s chin, slapping her
hard with the other. Somewhere, distantly, he was surprised he could hold her in place. It made him feel powerful, in charge, in control.
She was the one struggling, squirming, not him! From somewhere above the fray, Thomas heard Acheron laugh with glee.
“What did you have to do with Messina?!” Thomas shouted, finally letting go of her jaw. Thomas’ eyes were wide, his heart was thundering in his chest. His ears rang, as Acheron whispered sweet, terrifying melodies into his eager ear.
“What?” A thin trickle of blood came out of the corner of Christina’s mouth. Thomas stared into her eyes, and feasted on the fear that he saw. She was the one afraid, she was the one shaking!
“You ordered Georgios Komnenos to abandon my father at Messina!” Thomas screamed. Albrecht was right! It all made sense! Why else would Leo and Georgios have made such a tactically stupid maneuver as to turn their fleets away from battle? Why…
“Who is telling you such things?!” Christina pleaded. Her voice had dropped to a shaking, pleading tone. “Please, boy, who is telling you such lies!?” She started backing up against the headboard, away from her son.
“
Kourouna,” Thomas hissed. He leaned over, and started crawling across the bed after her. She’d killed his father for a lover! She was ruining the Empire! Acheron laughed, and loudly announced to all and sundry in Thomas’ mind what
he would do.
“
Kourouna?” Christina whispered, confusion now added to the fear. “Thomas, whomever that is telling you these things is a liar and a fool! They’re your enemy! They want to separate your from your momma!” Christina turned her head to the side, eyes wide, fearful tears welling up. “They want to hurt you! They’re spreading lies!”
Thomas’ nostrils flared as he loomed over her. Albrecht would never lie to him!
The world went red.
Thomas wouldn’t remember grabbing his mother’s hair and yanking her head up, nor would he remember grabbing the pillow or shoving it over her face. He didn’t hear the muffled screams, he didn’t feel her nails clawing at his shirt, tugging on his tunic.
Acheron saw all those things, and reveled, shoving the pillow down more, leaning on it with Thomas’ arm, pushing as hard as he could. Christina’s clawed, fought, screamed, cried, but with every moment, Thomas leaned on her harder and harder. Finally, a sickening, quiet silence hung in the sleeping quarters of the Dowager Empress. Thomas could only hear the thundering beat of his own heart as sweat ran off his brow. The red fringe disappeared from the world, as Thomas slowly backed away from his mother’s lifeless eyes.
“No…” he whispered, beholding his own work.
From somewhere far above, Acheron crowed in victory.
==========*==========
The crow feasting
So Christina’s reign has come to an end, at the hands of her own son. So, who was this
Kourouma, and what is his (or her) tie to Albrecht, as well as Sinan and the army plot? Is there a tie? More will be revealed next time on Rome AARisen!
