Chapter 211: A Timely Farewell
The sea surface in the morning had always been one of Kostas’s favorite sights: the vast sky, the clear sea breeze, stretching out boundlessly, the sea surface shimmering with golden light, dotted with a few white specks, possibly seabirds or sails. But as he walked to the window again today, the joy and ease he usually felt were gone.
He heard the sounds of an argument coming from another room.
Last night, after his earnest persuasion, his father and the Cypriot nobles who had gathered because of the Grand Prince finally abandoned their original plan and left the cathedral. Or rather, what truly convinced them were the witnesses who emerged. If it had only been the Crusaders, they could have said that these heretics would not hesitate to lie to God, but with the Archbishop of Cyprus and several other Cypriot nobles present, it was different.
They all unanimously declared that the newlywed couple had completed all the ceremonies, and the marriage was officially sealed. This meant that from that moment on, Cyprus was no longer part of the Byzantine Empire; it now belonged to a Crusader knight, a follower of the Roman Church.
Before this, their attack on the cathedral could be seen as expelling an enemy; after the betrothal, such an action could only be called rebellion.
But they had already committed terrible crimes—given the Crusaders’ past actions, Kostas’s father’s worries were not unfounded. He and his accomplices were suddenly filled with fear.
Fortunately, the woman who acted as an informant at the time did not belong to Kostas’s family—a vile thought had already surfaced in Kostas’s mind, but others could think of what he could.
His family, due to a distant blood tie to Emperor Theodosius III of the Byzantine Empire, had always enjoyed great prestige on Cyprus. And cooperating with the Grand Prince was also his father’s decision.
But now, the greatest blame did not fall on him, which caused much dissatisfaction. They had besieged his father all night, with some hoping their father would take responsibility; others believed they should reassemble the army. Before the Frankish reinforcements arrived, perhaps acting according to the original plan, they could have stormed the cathedral, and maybe the situation would have completely reversed by then.
They did indeed try, but unfortunately, one of the most important figures in the army they had hired, a Viking general, refused the Cypriots’ offer of employment. “Don’t you notice?”
he asked in surprise, “At least half of those Crusaders are blessed by God, and they are holding a fortress. We have no siege engines, nor Greek fire. What do you expect me to attack them with? Our flesh and blood? Even if you offered us the equivalent amount of gold, we wouldn’t agree—because it’s simply impossible.”
Some also suggested that perhaps they could kneel before the new lord and beg for his mercy.
They said that when he was a young attendant, he had spent forty-five days in asceticism in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. People said an angel descended to help him clean the church, and when he finished his asceticism, nobles threw jewels, clothes, and relics at him, which he then distributed to the poor and pilgrims in the City of Ayyarasa Road.
So people called him the Little Saint, and afterwards, he performed many good deeds, not only for Christians but also for Saracens—and we are all Christians.
Moreover, even if we did something foolish under provocation, it did not lead to excessively tragic consequences. If that were the case, perhaps we could try to negotiate with him.
No matter how much money, slaves, or silk he demanded, we could agree.
“But he already has all of Cyprus.”
This statement immediately chilled the atmosphere. Indeed, Crusader knights seemed to prefer taking things by force rather than negotiation and trade.
“Then what should we do?”
…
What else could be done? Kostas listened to the fragmented words carried by the sea breeze from the adjoining room, filled with regret. If only he had known, he should have resolutely stopped them, even if it displeased the Grand Prince.
When they learned that Manuel I of the Byzantine Empire, to repay the knight’s life-saving favor, was marrying Princess Anna to him and giving Cyprus as her dowry, they vaguely suspected that Manuel I might have already detected the Grand Prince’s rebellious intentions.
However, after a major defeat, Emperor Manuel I had lost his former spirit. He did not lead the army himself but employed a strategy of pitting wolves against wolves. He had indeed pushed Grand Prince Alexios and a part of Cyprus to a desperate situation—they did not believe they could possibly contend with the Crusaders. So their initial plan was to disrupt the marriage, seize the King of Ayyarasa Road and Patriarch Heraclius, and then negotiate with the Crusaders, signing an alliance. They had even agreed to cede some interests or guarantee the safety of pilgrims in Cyprus.
The condition was that the Crusaders must abandon any thought of coveting Cyprus.
They originally had an advantage. After all, the Crusaders might have been suspicious of this marriage, for one does not discard such a large bait even when fishing. But they likely did not anticipate that the Eldest Prince already had an army in Cyprus, and Manuel I was preparing to use them to strike down his own son.
But the current situation was that no matter how perfect the plan was, a fool could easily ruin it.
They were now in a predicament. They could not take the cathedral, nor could they abandon Cyprus. If they left Cyprus, where else could they go? Even if they could take all their money and families, without an army and power, they were just a flock of lambs with tender flesh.
Think again, Kostas told himself, think again, there must be a way. He already had a vague idea, but turning this idea into reality presented another problem—he could not even see the new lord of Cyprus.
If he went to the cathedral now, it would be a miracle if he wasn’t shot with an arrow.
But if they waited for more Crusaders to arrive, they might not even have a chance to speak.
The clamor from the adjoining room grew louder. Kostas felt annoyed and casually grabbed a hooded cloak, threw it over himself, and went downstairs through a hidden passage. He then pushed open a side door and went out. Through the courtyard lay a small harbor, where the blue water rippled and the sand was fine and white.
He took off his shoes and walked into the water, feeling its coolness. He hoped it would quickly wash away his anxiety. Just then, his servant ran up, “Master! Master!” he called softly.
Kostas turned around with an displeased expression: “What is it?”
“It’s Gitas.”
Gitas was a captain under Kostas, a member of the caravan, and loyal to Kostas and his family.
However, he was not in Cyprus last night; he had gone to Alexandria.
“Has he returned?”
“He has. He returned this morning, but he just found me to say… Master, their ship rescued someone at sea, and this person is of noble and special status, so he must immediately…” “Then bring him here,” Kostas said, “I’m not the Emperor of the Byzantine Empire, needing layers of announcements.”
The servant, hearing this, quickly hopped and ran out, bringing Gitas back in a short while.
Gitas was a dark-skinned middle-aged man. As soon as he saw Kostas, he immediately bowed swiftly and then whispered in his young master’s ear, “Our ship rescued a woman on the way back, a very beautiful woman, though nearing her end…”
Kostas glared at him.
“I mean, she said she was a consort of Manuel I. Hearing that we were Cypriots, she asked us to bring her here.”
Kostas’s first thought was that Gitas had encountered swindlers. A consort of Manuel I, shouldn’t she be quietly staying in the Grand Imperial Palace in Constantinople?
How could she suddenly appear near the coast of Cyprus?
“She didn’t drown? Were there other ships around?”
“I found it strange too, but when we rescued her, she was already frozen and almost dead. If you hadn’t insisted I bring a monk, she would have gone to meet God like that. She is still very weak…”
“Take me to see her.” Kostas immediately interrupted him. He hurried with Gitas towards the dock. The woman had already been brought off the ship and settled in a small hut nearby. The hut was dimly lit and unbearably hot, but as soon as Kostas entered, his eyes lit up.
There was no couch with velvet cushions in such a hut, but the sailors had done their best to lay down some mats woven from dry seaweed for her and rolled up some blankets for her to lean on. She was indeed beautiful, the most beautiful woman Kostas had ever seen. Her hair, like seaweed, was damply coiled on her forehead, behind her ears, and on her chest. Although her face was pale and her lips lacked any color, it only made her dark eyes more captivating and endearing.
She was also adorned with jewels befitting a consort. Although her earlobes bore only a pair of pearl earrings and her neck had only a chain without a pendant, her hands still bore large gold bracelets inlaid with sapphires and rubies.
What best indicated her status was her wet, tattered purple silk robe.
This shade of purple was almost exclusively worn by noble ladies of the rank of Augusta, and Manuel I’s favorite consorts certainly could have a few.
A clumsy maidservant was serving her water. Seeing several people rush into the room, she cowered and hid to the side, but the woman remained very calm.
“This is Kostas, my master.”
The woman, who claimed to be a favorite consort of Manuel I, guessed after a brief appraisal that he was a noble on Cyprus Island. “Where are we now?” Theodora repeated, and hope immediately flashed in her eyes. She knew the St. Lazarus Cathedral was in Larnaca, meaning she was possibly only a city away from her adopted daughter.
But recalling Manuel I’s proud words when he was most triumphant, her heart twisted as if gripped by pincers, causing unbearable pain. She unconsciously clutched her chest and anxiously asked, “Is the wedding over?”
“The wedding, you mean the wedding of Princess Anna of the Byzantine Empire and the Count of Edessa?” Kostas said, “It’s over…”
Although he wasn’t quite sure how this consort—if she truly was one—had suddenly appeared here from Constantinople, he cautiously said, “The betrothal has been officially sealed. They are now the new rulers of Cyprus.” As he spoke, he carefully observed the woman’s expression, and saw her immediately ecstatic. “Take me quickly,” Theodora cried, “Take me to see the Princess—I… I have something very important to tell her, about the Emperor.”
Kostas stood up, a smile uncontainable on his lips. Perhaps this was the only opportunity for him and his family. He immediately took off his cloak without hesitation. Although the cloak was plain in color, it was woven from a blend of wool and silk, both soft and fine. “Please allow me…”
“I allow you,” Theodora said. Then he wrapped Theodora completely in the cloak and picked her up. “Gitas,” he called, and the captain immediately followed, “Go find me a carriage.” He then turned to the servant, “Go to my room… No, forget it, you stay by my side.” He didn’t want his father or anyone else to know about this matter, lest there be complications.
Who knew what strange ideas they might have.
The sun had not yet reached its zenith when they arrived at the cathedral. To the left of the cathedral’s main entrance, a spear protruded from the city wall, with a lone head impaled on its tip. Although the bloodstains on the face had been wiped clean and the hair neatly combed, for a moment, Kostas could not recognize the person, or rather, he dared not recognize him.
But Theodora, beside him, spoke the name: “Alexios.”
She wore a smile of both pity and hatred. It seemed this Grand Prince had indeed not deviated from the script his father had set for him. He had indeed put on a good show as Manuel I had predicted, but he likely hadn’t expected to be the one to exit the stage first, not others.
But at the same time, she thought that if the Grand Prince’s head was hanging here, it meant he might have already done something. She grabbed Kostas beside her, “Have you seen Anna?”
“I have,” Kostas said, pointing to the window facing the square, “Last night, her husband appeared here holding her.”
“How did she look…?”
Kostas had initially thought the Grand Prince was captured before he could succeed, but now it seemed things might not be as optimistic as he expected. He felt a flicker of fear, unsure whether to continue with his original plan. But at this moment, they were already being pointed at by bows and crossbows, and he could only step forward to explain his intentions.
Heaven knows, perhaps in a little while, his head would also be displayed on the city wall alongside the Grand Prince.
But it was meaningless to say this now. They were hoisted onto the city wall, and then Kostas had all his weapons confiscated. As for Theodora, a lady escorted by attendants came out. She was the wife of a Byzantine official and recognized Theodora at a glance, as she was Manuel I’s most favored woman. Although she was also greatly astonished and completely unable to understand why Theodora would be here.
She even subconsciously looked outside, thinking Manuel I had brought her. But if that were the case, Theodora wouldn’t be so disheveled now.
“So she really is Princess Anna’s adoptive mother, Theodora?” a knight nearby asked. The lady nodded in panic.
Since Princess Anna was stabbed, they had all been arrested. Several people stayed in a room, both terrified and anxious, but they could do nothing but pray.
“Then follow me, Madam. Can you still walk?”
“Give me some wine,” Theodora said. The knight quickly brought a small bottle of wine, which Theodora drank down in one gulp, feeling her strength return.
As other knights were about to take Kostas away, she hesitated, then said, “It was his men who saved me, and he brought me here.”
“I understand. Madam,” the knight said, pausing, “Do you need to change your clothes first?”
“No, I don’t,” Theodora asked dryly, “Please tell me first, how is Anna?”
“The Countess of Edessa’s condition is indeed not good,” the knight said. The lady staggered as if about to fall, and he quickly supported her.
“Take me,” Theodora said, her vision darkening, but she had to persist. She didn’t know… if Anna… if she didn’t see Anna one last time, she would regret it for the rest of her life.
The attendant who had gone to report the news had already received a definite answer from Caesar. The knight led Theodora directly to Caesar and Anna’s room. As Theodora stepped into the room, she saw Anna sleeping on a couch, lying peacefully in her husband’s arms. Her expression was gentle, and she looked as if she were merely resting, but how could Theodora, who had seen many dead, not tell?
The life force on her body had dissipated to almost nothing.
Theodora lunged forward and placed one of her adopted daughter’s hands on her chest. This hand was as cold as her own. She tightly clasped the small hand, as if trying to press Anna into her body. Although she was not Anna’s birth mother, through their long mutual reliance, they had developed a bond deeper than that of biological mother and daughter. Moreover, Anna was her solace. She had let this small bird with lush feathers fly, fully expecting it to be free and enjoy the petals, dew, and sunshine.
Who knew that when she saw her again, her plumage was dull and her body stiff.
“Was it the Grand Prince?” Although she had guessed, Theodora still asked.
“It was him,” Caesar replied, “It was my oversight.”
“It was not your oversight.” Who could have foreseen such a hateful father and brother? Even in the imperial feuds of the Byzantine Empire, there were many men who fought to the death. But more often, they still had some compassion for their sisters and daughters.
But clearly, Manuel I and Grand Prince Alexios were the exceptions. Even to them, Anna was just a creature like a small animal. She had never competed with them for power, nor had she been instigated by others to harm them. She only wished to live like a person.
Yet, that small request was the most unforgivable sin for those two beasts.
So Manuel I gave her such a marriage, and her brother only had to personally punish her to see the despair and grief in her eyes.
“Is there no hope left?”
“She was severely injured,” Caesar concealed the cruel truth. Theodora reached out and stroked Anna’s face, neck, chest, and arms. Then her hand gently rested on the girl’s abdomen. She felt Caesar, sitting beside Anna, tremble slightly and guessed what Alexios had done before.
Although the wound there had healed, and to the touch, there was not the slightest trace of cruel treatment, she also knew that there were only a few types of injuries that monks and priests could not heal. Theodora pressed her lips tightly to the place where fruit should have been conceived and began to weep uncontrollably.
Anna herself had impaled Alexios’s head on a spear and watched the knights hoist it onto the city wall before she fainted. Afterwards came a near-unconscious sleep. Heraclius said this was a good thing for her, so she wouldn’t have to endure that pain of loss and displacement anymore.
Theodora’s cries woke her up. She opened her eyes, and her vision gradually cleared from haziness.
Theodora suddenly sprang up from her. The petals that were once like roses trembled, and her star-like eyes filled with tears: “Anna, my child…”
Anna tried to smile, but even the corners of her lips lifted only slightly. “Mother Theodora,” she said. She didn’t know how Theodora had arrived but felt overjoyed. Strangely, at the moment she woke up, the pain that had clung to her like a curse vanished. She was still weak, but her body no longer felt heavy.
She knew she wasn’t healed; this was the last ray of the setting sun left in the world, or the last bubble scattered in the ripples. In her eyes, there was not fear, but joy. Thank God, thank the saints. She had imagined countless endings for herself. This was not the best, but not the worst either. She could die surrounded by those who loved her and whom she loved.
