Chapter 296: Broken Wings
And on the same night, Cyprus welcomed a peculiar guest.
“Theodora?”
Both Nathia and Boscia had heard of this lady—she had been Manuel I’s niece and also his consort; she had once been showered with Manuel I’s favor or rather torment, and her only consolation might have been her daughter Anna, left to her by the late empress.
Upon hearing of the emperor’s malicious plot, this angry mother tore the other’s throat with her teeth—unfortunately failing to kill him, then she leaped into the sea.
As if under God’s protection, they were at that time on a cape overlooking Cyprus from afar—Manuel I wanted to watch the flames he had ignited with his own eyes; as she floated in the sea, she encountered a merchant ship, and they brought her to Anna’s side.
They met for the last time, Anna entrusted her to Caesar, and then died.
People, including herself, believed that for her, the best was to live incognito in a monastery, and she indeed did so, but her sudden arrival today inevitably made people worry about her intentions—a mother could also be jealous, jealous of everything her daughter never had, now obtained by another girl.
From Nathia to the Edessa knights left by Caesar, none approved of Boscia going out to meet this stranger woman with unknown intentions; she could give birth at any moment.
Now Boscia’s belly had swollen to the extreme; even though Boscia was strong, she now looked like a huge fruit hanging on a branch, trembling, supported only by a thin stem.
People worried that the other might shout abruptly or push her casually, causing her to give birth in peril.
Although the current populace might use whipping criminals to scare the woman in labor into giving birth quickly, this method was only used in difficult births, like a cruel choice made out of desperation.
If possible, they preferred the woman in labor to give birth smoothly after sweating profusely and shouting loudly, without the slightest mishap.
But Boscia was insistent; she always firmly remembered what Dandolo had told her: she could love Caesar, love her husband, but the bitter wine brewed by love, especially romantic love, was inevitably jealousy—it was hard not to be jealous; everyone had possessiveness.
But Caesar’s first wife was simply a… figure like Medea; the favor she gave Caesar was so immense that Caesar’s subsequent wives, along with their offspring, could all benefit from it.
If you feel jealous, Dandolo reminded her, just think about it—think about Cyprus, think about your children—their best prospects originally were only to gain a seat as a councilor in the narrow, damp city of Venice.
But now they might be masters of a vast and prosperous territory; no matter who becomes Venice’s governor in the future—whether my enemy or my friend—he will have to bow and scrape to you, and—as long as your bloodline with Caesar flows on this land, Cyprus and the surrounding sea will be an unobstructed path for the Venetians.
You must always remember, Caesar and this child are your foundation; you are entwined with each other, inseparable; if you love yourself, first love them; every decision you make must benefit them, or rather, sometimes Caesar matters more than all.
Now was the time to put Caesar above all; she didn’t know how Caesar viewed Theodora, but she remembered Caesar had said Theodora was Anna’s adoptive mother, and he would treat her like a second mother and provide for her.
In fact, he did so. Before setting out for Holy Cross Castle, Caesar sent attendants every month with gifts to visit this unfortunate madam.
Theodora was also surprised; she waited, thinking among those she might see could be Caesar’s sister Nathia, but Caesar’s current wife Boscia might refuse to meet her.
However, her visit to Cyprus this time was not to tend to the woman in labor—people’s thoughts were not wrong.
The Governor’s Palace was completely unlike the residences she had seen before; both the architecture and decorations had been renovated—not lavish, but extremely comfortable—especially for a pregnant woman.
The pregnant woman was surrounded by everyone, whether kin, servants, or knights, all extremely respectful and cautious.
Her first thought was that if Anna were still alive and had Caesar’s child, all this would belong to her—her husband’s love and protection were things Theodora never had; she once hoped Anna could have them, but it was not to be.
Now she had to watch another young girl enjoy everything her daughter never had, and a strange feeling indeed rose in her heart.
But this emotion dissipated like smoke when he saw Boscia, supported by two handmaids, laboriously moving in front of her.
She had never been a mother but had seen other women pregnant and giving birth, so she knew that the danger a pregnant woman faced was greatest just before birth… whether in Byzantium’s harem or in Christians’ castles, pregnant and postpartum women could not receive priests’ treatment; they had no right to holy relics.
Theodora’s gaze fell on Boscia’s belly; while everyone felt tense, she merely kept a distance and gently asked: “Not yet due?”
Boscia looked down at her belly almost covering her legs, somewhat puzzled by Theodora’s meaning, but still cautiously answered: “The priests say he should arrive in January, or perhaps earlier. By this timeline, he should indeed have been born. But I heard it can be a bit shorter or longer, not so strict.” The person she referred to was of course Caesar; although Boscia rarely mentioned the fetus in letters, Caesar seemed able to see her distress and worries from afar; in replies, he always accurately estimated the child’s condition and gave reminders and comfort.
He wrote that her conception was likely a month later than the priests estimated; a pregnancy could last up to forty-two weeks, so she needn’t worry, just check fetal movement frequency daily.
He even wrote at the letter’s end that perhaps the child was waiting for his father to arrive, to be seen first by him, hence the delay.
Such words and actions greatly alleviated Boscia’s anxiety; this was her first child, carrying everyone’s expectations. Every so often, she interacted with the child in her belly, felt his responses, and recorded them as Caesar requested.
When feeling down or irritable, she would look at this record or fiddle with gifts from Caesar. These gifts weren’t all jewels or silk; some were wildflowers he saw on marches, made into gossamer-thin dried flowers and tucked into scripture for her; others were lakeside pebbles, even polished fish bones—these might not fetch a copper coin from merchants, but what Boscia treasured was not the things, but this deep affection.
For this, she wouldn’t trouble Caesar anywhere, even if it meant treating Theodora as a mother—anyway, Boscia’s bond with her own mother wasn’t very deep.
Though she was still a bit afraid.
Theodora’s face was not ugly; even as a woman, though older than Boscia or Nathia, her beauty surpassed both.
When she removed her hood, the entire hall brightened; Boscia recalled the flowers Caesar sent—though they had lost youthful moisture, the dried colors made them more vivid.
It was understandable that this madam enjoyed Manuel I’s favor unchanging for over a decade.
Those present speculated on her intentions: to stay? To share the legacy left by her half-daughter Princess Anna? Or through Caesar’s pity and regard, seek some power? Or hope to become Manuel I’s consort again? That was possible too.
But soon they heard a message that anyone would find unbelievable.
“You say Manuel I might attack Cyprus?”
Everyone knew Cyprus’s change of hands was entirely Manuel I’s self-smart idea, a wild fancy—for which he sacrificed his own son and daughter, but he probably didn’t expect his eldest son Alexios to be so foolish, immature, and impulsive, nor that his always-ignored daughter Anna would be so mad.
At that time, priests were preparing her last rites; unexpectedly, she endured immense pain and fear of death to complete the wedding ceremony with Caesar—whether true or not, under many witnesses, the wedding’s final step was done.
This meant Caesar now not only owned all of Cyprus but also all the power as son-in-law of the Byzantine Emperor, including inheritance rights to Byzantium.
Who made Manuel I, to prove to the world his regard for favors, even reaffirm Anna’s status?
In other words, at marriage, Anna had gone from bastard to emperor’s daughter.
Of course, the latter was nominal; Manuel I’s eldest son Alexios was dead, but he had a grown son whose mother was the sister of the Duke of Antioch, sure to get the Principality of Antioch’s support.
But Cyprus? On what pretext would the emperor seize back Cyprus?
Caesar never denied the marriage, properly mourned Anna for a year; he didn’t rebel, fully fulfilled son-in-law and vassal duties; though only a bit over a year, tribute and tax were never short, always sent on time to Constantinople.
If such a marriage could be casually annulled, who would follow the emperor’s orders? God knows, Constantinople’s reputation was bad enough.
Facing people’s questions, Theodora was silent for a long time. “This is news passed to me by a handmaid.”
She had carefully managed in Manuel I’s harem for over a decade; was it just to vie for favor with those pitiful women? Of course not; she knew better than anyone that in the harem, in Constantinople, in the vast Byzantine Empire, their only enemy was Manuel I—none other.
All her arrangements were for Manuel I.
“What news?”
“The emperor recently got some money.”
“How much?”
“Fifty thousand gold coins.” An Edessa knight was already laughing; at first he worried if she brought earth-shattering intelligence—at this time, he hoped for no accidents.
But fifty thousand gold coins… indeed fifty thousand for a king was no small sum.
But for Byzantium’s Manuel I, what was it?
To thank the Crusaders for rescue, he gave a hundred fifty thousand gold coins at once.
“But he has almost nothing left to sell except Cyprus.” To raise pay for the Crusaders, the emperor sought every convertible thing and channel then—don’t think Crusaders were mercenaries you could stiff; they didn’t mind taking it themselves.
“But I’ve heard,” said Caesar’s sister Nathia; Theodora slightly bowed in respect; Nathia returned it and continued, “but I’ve heard Cyprus has had no governor for a long time.”
Because governors here must fight fierce Saracens; Cyprus locals don’t obey them, just see them as hired thugs—could such a post fetch fifty thousand gold coins?
The Byzantine Empire was weakened but had vast territories—Thebes, Athens, Nicaea, Thessalonica—any possible; why was she sure it was Cyprus?
“Original Cyprus wasn’t worth that price. Its enemies then weren’t just Egypt’s Saracens,” Theodora glanced mockingly at knights in white robes with red crosses—Templar Knights, but they showed no unease—Cyprus folk faithful to the Orthodox Church were heretics to them, worse than heathens; escorting pilgrims to the Holy Land, conflicts with Cyprus people were inevitable, not surprising.
“I think he might negotiate with you. If Manuel I retains your current power, even generously gifts some cities, would you refuse?”
Templar Knights instinctively looked down to hide embarrassment; they indeed wouldn’t—they were somewhat dissatisfied with Caesar’s handling; in their eyes, Cyprus calming so quickly was due to their irreplaceable merit.
They vaguely felt Caesar was more lord or monarch than knight; he wanted not gold or glory, but real power—divided power was never perfect.
But for Byzantium’s Manuel I, Caesar’s marriage-given power was unchangeable fact; with Templar Knights, options abounded—divide, provoke, bribe… worst case, wait for new Grand Master, buy back bribed cities.
“Egypt’s Saracen Fatimid Dynasty is fallen, replaced by Ayyubid’s Saladin; he just returned defeated from Damascus, unlikely to regroup for years; even if, he may not keep attacking Cyprus.
After all, the navy was Fatimid, not Ayyubid.
Meaning, for the next decade or two, Cyprus’s south will be calm; plus Cyprus now produces rock sugar, in huge demand—for taste, portability, status, flattery, show off, pursuit; price far exceeds original, some even carry it from Cyprus to Francia’s far north, where rock sugar equals same-volume gold.
Nobles and kings flock to this new sugar.
At their banquets, using mere sugar powder for miniature castles invites mockery; only translucent, sparkling like ice cubes under lights, brings praise and flattery.
Neither Pope Alexander III nor Manuel I is content with their meager share—or rather, they see Cyprus daring to quota them as grave disrespect.”
“They want not product, but workshop.”
“Who doesn’t?”
Caesar and sister Nathia analyzed: he limited rock sugar workshops to Cyprus and kept secret to later give production secret as fixed pay to loyal knights.
Once knights have formula, output surges, but even then can’t fill Manuel I and Pope Alexander III’s bottomless stomachs.
On this, he can’t compromise with Manuel I or Pope Alexander III.
Though he might launch new products, yielding on rock sugar means yielding elsewhere; Caesar’s stance firm（ perhaps also instinctive revulsion）; sister Nathia and wife fully honor his oath, but they probably didn’t think Manuel I no longer young.
And his son so young.
Theodora learned from harem eyes that in rage, she tore Manuel I’s throat with teeth; though not fatal, arriving priests healed the wound, but perhaps due to age or vital spot, Manuel I thereafter struggled breathing, tongue stiff, even pain swallowing.
He called priests for treatment, but ineffective; even saying cured, he disbelieved, suspecting Theodora poisoned her teeth.
Theodora truly hadn’t. Then she joyfully misthought Manuel I had lingering affection for Anna; even stingy on dowry—except Cyprus—she thought impulse promising whole Cyprus to newlyweds, later regretting, causing contradiction.
She never imagined emperor then saw Anna as discardable chess piece, denying her any happiness—biting his throat, she wished foresight to poison teeth.
Manuel I’s pain more from paranoia; his only legitimate son underage; if he dies, Regent Queen Mother Mary of Antioch will clash with ministers, perhaps fight, conspiracies swarm; even with Bohemond of Principality of Antioch, unsure if mother-son keep honor without his protection.
Naturally anxious; now Cyprus like gem retrieved from mud, polished gleaming—how abandon it?
With Cyprus, for bribes or deals, his son gets huge boost.
“But marriage is established,” a Templar Knight said: “Emperor might renege—Constantinople priests useless, but he won’t consider aftermath?”
All nodded; too stupid, shortsighted; kings did similar, broke oaths, flipped; even without Church punishment, none trusted them later, none fought for them, vassals rebelled; ends mostly miserable.
“I’ve been in Constantinople nearly forty years, lords, served Manuel I over a decade; none knows better what disgusting thing the so-called emperor is.
Lords,” Theodora eyed knights, “you’re not adept at politics, less intrigue—you upright, bold, follow monarch and Church laws, like good people naively think world follows God’s will, pacts hold, oaths respected, superiors bound by faith and virtue.
But not so; you never imagine in struggles, most fearsome not tyrant, powerbroker, wise scholar, brave general.
Contrarily, most fear—fools, or those with no restraints.”
“Doing so sends them to hell.” A knight retorted.
“Yes,” Theodora clapped, “if they don’t fear hell?”
This silenced the upright Edessa knight; he glared: “If they don’t care, or think priest/king status gets absolution.
See, just because I’m woman, swore oath, you let me sit face-to-face with your mistress, even near birth—you think Princess Anna entrusted me to your master, he treats me mother-like respectfully.
I should feel his grace, suppress jealousy, treat your mistress and child well,” she glanced at Boscia’s belly; “I won’t harm this child, but if not? If I suddenly go mad, possessed—mildest evil I could do is let this woman and child die together, yet you still hope.
“But you said…”
“Said what? You still do nothing; fine, even if no malice now, can’t I change mind? Anyone can have myriad thoughts anytime.”
“We can stop you.”
“What if not? Suicide confess to master? Even suicide, save pregnant woman and child?
You can’t.
Manuel I’s influence far greater; on Cyprus, can’t say he’s arbitrary—many would support.
You see, it’s so beautiful prosperous now, like good tree ready to bear rich fruit—who doesn’t want?
Manuel I wants, purple-robe wearers want, his governor/ministers more.
If he decides, who here changes his mind? Even reach him, denounce shamelessness, ingratitude, dishonesty—let alone if possible, even if, what harm?
Those around him for interests; no interests, can’t drive away; he’ll have many supporters—not to mention we heretics to them, no psychological pressure.
Even if credibility questioned, so what? How long he live? Mocked, distrusted—just few years; son succeeds, feign piety, fawners come.
Possibly Cyprus’s governor among them; he knows power source—unlike Caesar, your master undisputedly owns Cyprus, won’t thank Byzantine emperor.
Neither present nor future.”
Room fell silent.
After long quiet, Nathia stood: “Anyway, please let me arrange your rest. You came from Ayyarasa Road, must be exhausted.”
Theodora rose, nodded, knowing they’d discuss without her; she followed handmaids to quiet safe bedroom; room folk waited for Nathia’s return to discuss.
Count of Edessa’s knights always side with Nathia; count entrusted his key two to them; loyalty ironclad since Caesar granted lands/workshops.
Templar Knights and other two Orders had varied views.
Templars embarrassed; Theodora pointed they don’t mind more from Manuel I.
Holy Sepulchre Knights, due to Baldwin, side with Caesar. If Manuel I truly breaks faith, his words unreliable; plus he’d send governor—who wouldn’t want full Cyprus ownership? Their power limited too, facing heretic.
When Caesar got Cyprus ownership, how joyful you were—forgot? Because Crusader knight, not Byzantine.
This won Knights Hospitaller agreement.
Hospitallers mostly neutral, neither king nor Church, but as knight/lord Caesar unimpeachable model—no one better, certainly not Manuel I-appointed governor.
————
Theodora couldn’t know discussion outcome, but gratifyingly, allowed on streets with handmaids/attendants (or surveillance), clearly felt city defenses tightening.
She hoped to see this: as emperor’s consort, deceased’s adoptive mother, Byzantine woman bringing perilous news sans proof—though assertive before Caesar’s sister Nathia, wife, knights, she unsure of convincing.
Before, she’d doubt herself: paranoid/crazy from last time? Maybe emperor’s probe/blackmail—of that minister? Or fifty thousand gold coins from other deal? Like Genoans? Though their annual revenue only fifty thousand.
But she knew no luck-wishing; last time’s result all saw.
Before boarding, prepared mentally—even hated, guarded, mocked, fine; if reminder sparks any Byzantium defense, good; development exceeded expectations.
They believed, strengthened defenses; under frank reminder, Templars swore no dealings with Byzantium’s Manuel I—if emperor truly breaks oath; other two Orders did too.
Oaths not always reliable, but better than none.
“My illusion?” she whispered; defenses tighter, but Governor’s Palace market more prosperous than seen.
Was it then, distracted by foster-daughter Anna’s death, or memory skewed.
“Indeed changed,” handmaid smiled: “Madam, wasn’t this orderly before.”
“Not just orderly; if memory serves, not so many shops/goods.”
Besides Caesar, none foresaw simple measure’s huge impact on Cyprus folk.
Though rock sugar not sold openly, countless merchants try luck; maybe knight desperate to woo woman sells share; or handmaid post-fling trades fresh gift for favored silk/jewels—few such accidents suffice; even one in ten thousand draws rest eagerly.
Maybe next lucky one is him.
Rock sugar’s value not in gold exchanged, but as lord/king opener—even low peddler jumps rank.
Merchants never come empty; bring varied goods, direct trade or barter; soon Governor’s Palace market became bustling commerce hub.
Here see all Europe/Mediterranean goods—copper ingots, tin ingots, glass, ebony, ivory, gold/silver jewelry/crystal, amber, agate, shells, carnelian, glassware, resin, acorns, almonds, figs, olives, pomegranates…
Astonishingly, this area nearly overshadowing Governor’s Palace orderly, not chaotic.
Flat ground, stone-paved roads, side drains wide for two carriages; shops behind drains, houses stone brick not wood, cowhide, mudbrick—plain but fire/collapse-proof.
“But cost too high; merchants afford?”
“Lord built them,” handmaid said: “Merchants buy or rent.”
Few steps, Theodora keenly noted roads straight horizontal/vertical—all interconnect—warp/weft on loom, squares shops.
Thus crowded yet no jams; Theodora bought two silks, one rose water vial.
Then saw wooden vessels stall, crossed by canal; merchants/servants drew water; some gulped handfuls, or for mounts.
Canal new, through whole market; handmaid gestured happily: “From Pediaios River, but direct drink unbecoming your status; ice?”
“Ice?”
“Ice merchants here.” Handmaid left quick, returned with silver cup swirling purple-red rose water, floating white glistening ice cubes.
Theodora sipped lips, gave to handmaid: “Drink, child; not that thirsty.” Too long in Grand Imperial Palace, unaccustomed taking outsiders’ offerings casually.
Two steps forward, curiously eyed mule’s dangling between legs—like cloth bag.
Merchant saw noblewoman eyeing mule, bowed carefully. On cloth pouch query, embarrassed but honest: “Market rule: human/animal feces not on ground. Humans have fixed toilets, Roman style, clean; animals we can’t, so bag under butt; full bag trades for money—not much, but covers day’s fodder.”
Theodora realized no filthy mud on shoes whole way: “Good.”
“Isn’t it?” Merchant agreed: “Streets cleaner than my bed. Pity lord bans street sleeping. Luckily, inns cheap.”
Theodora gave silver coin; merchant beamed gratefully, left.
“So good,” Theodora murmured; exactly scene she wanted—even if initial perilous rush hoped thwart Manuel I’s plot, fulfill foster-daughter Anna’s hope.
But now, seemed she did most right thing—future even in hell, this merit withstands devil’s torments/trials.
Nathia/Boscia consulted, wrote Caesar warning, Dandolo aid—or elder’s guidance.
Dandolo ambassador Constantinople over decade, knows Manuel I; for past humiliations, planted eyes there, can verify news.
Dandolo’s letter reached elder quick; Caesar sees in seven days, post-Saint Jerome fast/asceticism, allowed shed monk robes, return mortal world.
As ordinary monk, his items—letters, food, goods—inspected: food sliced, goods tapped for contraband, letters opened/read.
But due Caesar’s status, Abbot collected all, locked small wooden box; post-cultivation, returned to him.
Caesar opened box, first saw Boscia/Nathia’s letter; just opened, unread, attendant rushed in.
“Lord,” pale, panicked shout: “His Holiness the Patriarch is in trouble!”
