The Emperor Awakes Page 9

  ‘Yes, your Majesty.’

  The adviser bowed and left. The Sultan felt a momentary sadness, but it passed, overrun by his ruthlessness.

  There was another man in the shadows who overheard this exchange. To the Sultan’s court he was Beyezit. But his real name was Julian and his loyalty was to his Emperor, not the Sultan. He had to help the Emperor escape. Mohammed, however, had suspected Beyezit for some time now and had him watched.

  On the road out of Edirne they were ambushed. Beyezit was killed on the spot. The Emperor, too, was killed and was dismembered. Mohammed supervised the act himself.

  But the riders were followed, by an unlikely figure, a Pallanian. He was the one who painstakingly gathered the scattered pieces of the Emperor’s body and took them to the Order of Vlachaernae who arranged for his body to be properly buried in a secret place, away from prying eyes and people. Cappadocia was the ideal place.

  CHAPTER 13

  Cappadocia, Asia Minor

  June 1453 A.D. (After the fall of Constantinople)

  A small procession was almost at its final destination: the rugged cave landscape of Cappadocia. Four rode out in front. Another four were following on foot carrying a non-descript chest. Inside it was a body or rather the parts that once formed a body.

  Their simple black monastic cloaks belied the vibrant colours decorating their garments underneath. All eight cloaked figures were members of the Order of Vlachernae.

  The body they carried had the power to defy and make history. It was the key to the future.

  Within weeks they arrived in Cappadocia. The chest carrying the body was buried with the full rites and honours becoming of a member of the Imperial family. But, having sealed the tomb and as they were ready to leave, they were ambushed by a group of Ruinands.

  The Vlachernaeans were outnumbered and they all fell, except one that survived, but was left for dead. However, as the Ruinands attempted to break their way through and enter the cave, a blinding light emanated from the sealed entrance and all Ruinands were suddenly on fire, one by one becoming burning embers and then disappearing in little columns of ash.

  And then all was dark once more. The awesome power that vanquished them was locked inside the tomb until the day that the chosen one would be allowed to enter undisturbed.

  * * *

  Elli picked up the story after the missing part that, unbeknownst to her, her brother Iraklios was reading at the same time.

  CHAPTER 14

  Smyrna, Asia Minor

  July 1921 A.D.

  Kostas Vendis paused at the gate. He had no doubt in his mind that Antonios would dismiss his plan off hand, without giving it due consideration. It was risky and it could cost them everything, even their lives. But it was a risk worth taking: all or nothing.

  How could a risk-taker like Antonios resist such a prospect, such odds? He knew he had a damn good chance to persuade him and the others. And he would also benefit out of that plan of course.

  Kostas composed himself, put on his inscrutable mask and went through the gate. He climbed the steps to the front entrance and knocked gently on the door.

  He had hardly pulled back his hand when the door opened, as if by itself. He tried to hide his surprise, but Mrs Manto was standing before him, filling his whole field of vision, and she would not be fooled.

  ‘My dear Kostas. You look as if you’ve seen a ghost. I can’t have changed that much since you last saw me. I assure you I do not have a sixth sense. I just happened to be passing by the hall on my way to the library. But let’s not stand here on the doorstep. Come in, come in. Mr Antonios is in the garden with young Nikitas. They should be back inside any moment now. You can wait for them in the library.’

  Kostas was anxious to see Antonios and was about to decline the invitation when he realised that it was an order wrapped as an invitation. He realised Antonios wanted a private moment alone with Nikitas and decided to obey Mrs Manto’s thinly veiled order. Mrs Manto was watching him. She caught the momentary doubt in his face and raised an eyebrow.

  ‘Mrs Manto. It’s a pleasure to see you again. I would be happy to wait for them in the library.’

  ‘For a moment there I thought you looked torn between an invitation to hell or paradise.’

  Kostas laughed, embarrassed to have been caught out and came clean.

  ‘I was disappointed. The garden seemed a much better prospect on such a hot day.’

  Mrs Manto lost no time in taking him into her arms and squeezing him tight. Kostas squeezed back and planted a kiss on each cheek. You could not but be swept into Mrs Manto’s strong maternal embrace. She was after all their de-facto mother.

  He could not start to imagine what she had seen in her lifetime. Officially she was supposed to be fifty-six years old. However, he knew that she was much older than that even though she did not look it. Unlike Antonios Symitzis, she was not a fully-fledged member of the Order of Vlachernae, but an honorary one, and still bound by the vow to protect the Order’s ancient secrets.

  Kostas heard voices coming from the back of the house. He saw Antonios and Nikitas entering the hall and let go of Mrs Manto. Deciding to humour Antonios, he stood at attention with his nose on its way to touch the ceiling and saluted. Antonios smiled and played along.

  ‘Aha, caught red-handed. So you are the object of Mrs Manto’s desires, the accomplice in this clandestine affair. I’ve been patiently waiting for her to come clean for far too long, but to no avail. I would not dare to interfere in her life, of course, but I did wonder who she had been sneaking out to meet for weeks.’

  Kostas laughed and rushed to greet Antonios.

  Antonios held both Kostas’ hands in his and then hugged him. He feigned anger but there was a twinkle in his eye.

  ‘It’s hard to let her go, isn’t it? Join the club. One hug and you are hooked and comforted, recovered and restored.’

  ‘My friend, I could not agree more.’

  Antonios became serious and there was urgency in his voice.

  ‘Now let us go inside. We have much to discuss.’

  They had hardly sat down when Mrs Manto came into the library and set down a tray with coffee, sweets, bread, olives, meats, fruit, honey and dates, all straight from Amaltheia’s horn of plenty.

  ‘I want to see empty bowls. Eat up.’

  ‘Mrs Manto, please let everyone know we don’t want to be disturbed for whatever reason, unless, of course, the house is on fire.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  Mrs Manto left quickly and closed the door quietly behind her.

  Kostas broke the silence.

  ‘Antonios, I suspect we are not here to discuss the forthcoming destruction of this city. We all know we can do nothing to prevent that. So, why are we here?’

  ‘Before I go into that, tell me whether we have any news of further Ruinand incursions into our territory. I am aware they have been distancing themselves from actual warfare and are using different tactics to expand their influence and hit us where it would hurt most, business. Our influence with the Ottoman authorities is strong, but in view of what is coming in a few months, we will lose an important cornerstone of our operations. Kostas, how is progress on the establishing of Cyprus as the base of our sphere of influence and the transfer of our operations?’

  ‘It’s going according to plan, but it’s expensive, especially since it has to be carried out in such secrecy. And it is personally costing me money. I am very stretched financially at the moment and I would like to know how long I would need to keep this up. I have been trying to anticipate any attempts at sabotage by the Ruinands, but I do not have a full picture of their operations and plans yet. Our attempts at infiltrating them have not had the desired result.’

  The wheels of Antonios’ mind were already turning, formulating a plan. He chose his words carefully.

  ‘Kostas, I believe you should continue courting the British authorities in Cyprus and gaining favour with them. We will need to be allowed to carry out our a
ctivities from the island undisturbed. At the moment it is the only safe haven in the Eastern Mediterranean. Now, about the main reason I called you both here today. I have still not been successful in locating any of the descendants of the last Emperor. We still do not know what happened to the child. Let’s hope Manuel has good news for us. I’m expecting him soon. And I had a talk with Zoe. There is the matter of locating the exact burial place of the last Emperor. You will know about the prophecies. Well, we may have good reason to believe that they are indeed true.’

  ‘Antonios, I do not come without a gift of good news. One of the pair of the Likureian icons has resurfaced.’

  ‘Where is it?’

  ‘I have it in my possession.’

  ‘But how? They have both been lost for centuries.’

  ‘It was by accident. I don’t know whether the icons have a way of finding their way into their intended keepers, but I was as surprised as you were. I did not realise it at first. I had bought an icon for my collection when my six-year-old son found himself playing with it and as he was handling it, he must have pressed some hidden button; the icon fell like an outer shell revealing the Likureian icon beneath.’

  ‘But how do you know it is authentic?’

  ‘Well, let’s put it like this. Since I acquired it, strange things have been happening around me. There is no other explanation. It cannot be a coincidence. You know as well as I do the notoriety of the icon to cause such things.’

  There was an almighty commotion in the hall and Manuel burst into the library. A deathly silence descended on the room, all eyes on Manuel. The only sound came from the clock in the hall and some birdsong outside. They all waited for Manuel to speak. Kostas even forgot the business proposal he had for Antonios.

  ‘The lead was a dead end. The man thought he was getting a reward for information. I do not know where he may have got that idea. He started his story well enough, but soon I realised he kept contradicting himself and saw through his lies. Fairytales the lot of them. He made his first mistake when he began throwing secondhand accounts that at first glance seemed convincing. I bet he was hoping to create a smokescreen and impress me with his historical knowledge and slow authoritative voice. Anyway, having just about avoided being blinded by his desire for his fifteen minutes of fame, three hours more like it, I could not confirm or otherwise ease my suspicions. We are back where we started. We don’t know what happened to the real Emperor and where he’s buried.’

  ‘Slow down. What suspicions are you talking about? And why did you say “the real Emperor”? What are you not telling us?’

  ‘I heard rumours that during the siege of Constantinople, before the fall, people had seen the Emperor in two places at the same time. I don’t know how much credence to give to those rumours though.’

  ‘How can that be?’ interjected Kostas. ‘Surely people must have been confused amongst all that hellish mess of the battle.’

  ‘I also heard that the person people saw was not wearing Imperial regalia.’

  Manuel’s words echoed his anxiety, but also allowed for hope.

  ‘Is it possible that the real Emperor may have come back, if he were away in the first place?’

  Manuel and Nikitas looked at each other and there were dark clouds in their eyes. With their minds they spoke to each other and they knew what they had to do. They knew they had to leave immediately.

  * * *

  It was later in the afternoon, near dusk, that Manuel was strolling along the promenade, when he suddenly stopped and looked back, but saw nothing. He thought he saw a face he had seen before, but could not identify. And then it hit him. It was his brother, Stephanos, he was sure of it. But what was Stephanos doing here? He was supposed to be on a mission to Alexandria in Egypt. He was definitely up to something.

  * * *

  A few metres behind him, Stephanos was climbing aboard a ship anchored just outside the harbour. He had spent the day visiting his favourite places, which he could never resist when he was in Smyrna, one of his favourite cities. He loitered around the harbour, spent a couple of hours wandering around the city’s famous central market taking in the intoxicating smells of spices and food; he was tempting fate, he was taking a risk of being recognised, but he could not care less.

  He filled his belly and every nook and cranny of his olfactory senses. He satisfied his love of touching and tasting the numerous fares on offer in the richly coloured stalls stacked up with the delicacies of the world. Now he was ready to face a different kind of experience.

  Entering the city’s central baths, he felt a sense of tranquillity wash over him. After relaxing in the rich steam and breathing in the mixture of aromatic herbs and spicy sweat, he washed, dressed carefully and left this temporary refuge.

  It was on his way to the harbour that he saw Manuel. He recoiled at the thought of it. He could not be sure whether Manuel had recognised him. For a brief moment he saw Manuel hesitate, slow his pace and look back. Stephanos just had enough time to dive into an alley and hide. He saw Manuel walking away and he then knew he was in the clear.

  He arrived at the harbour and boarded the small boat that would take him to the flagship of a fleet owned by a man that many people knew by name, but nobody would have recognised, had he walked amongst them, as nobody had ever seen him.

  His host was a powerful man. And this powerful man was a bitter commercial rival of Antonios. And Stephanos had met him before.

  * * *

  At that point the account of events from 1921 A.D. ended. Elli fell into deep thought immersed in the past she still could not shake. Reality could wait for a while.

  CHAPTER 15

  New York

  Present day

  It was an August morning in New York, unusually rainy for this time of the year, under an overcast sky that, combined with the rising heat, stifled the city. John Halland woke up with a start and sat up in bed. His dream was still very vivid in his mind and it was unlike anything he had experienced before.

  He dreamt he was in a strange place that reminded him too much of Cappadocia in Turkey that he had visited only two years earlier. He dreamt he was walking in an underground cave, when he was suddenly snatched, a hood placed over his head, and led to a place that smelled of damp and rotting corpses.

  He could then remember hearing some voices he could not make out, then seeing a plaque with an indecipherable inscription and then being placed in a sarcophagus, the lid safely fastened into place and all going dark. He was entombed and he was having difficulty breathing and he was falling in and out of consciousness and drowning and then a vacuum, silence.

  As a final act, a face flashed before his eyes, a face he thought he recognised, and then a voice and something he could just about remember … He could almost touch it, but it was not meant to be.

  Whatever it was it kept slipping further and further away, like sand through his fingers, and then he was awake and it was gone. But he was glad he was saved, that he was alive.

  He was in his bed. The bedroom was quiet and dark with the curtains drawn and the blinds secured. It took him a while to recover. A part of his brain was dismissing it, but another was drawing him to it, as the nightmare’s vividness kept bugging him.

  He looked at the clock. It was time to get ready and go to work. Damn, he had overslept again. And damn, he had no time to go for a jog. Again. He fumbled for the lightswitch, then rubbed his eyes, threw off the bedcovers and jumped out of bed like a spring or as if someone had set him on fire.

  He sprinted to the bathroom, probably breaking the hundred-metre record in the process, from where he emerged five minutes later, showered and shaved and he started to get dressed like a maniac.

  It was as if he was a space shuttle and the ten-second countdown to launch had began or as if he was trapped under the space shuttle, desperate to escape, but fighting a losing battle against the countdown to the launch that would vaporise him. He was running against the clock and any remnant of his dream flew from h
is mind. It was later that month that he would remember his dream.

  He was running severely late. Within fifteen minutes he was out of the door, down the uneven steps. He cursed. He had to have those steps fixed. They were a challenge and a death trap if you were half asleep or very drunk.

  He ran the short distance to the subway without breaking a sweat. He had to thank his intense fitness regime and his crazy climbing expeditions to far-flung placesfor that. That was something he had in common with his boss, James Calvell. Once he was inside the train he relaxed for the first time since waking up. It was only six stops.

  Arriving at the Metropolitan Museum, he was greeted by the guard and was waived through.

  * * *

  Later in the day, John was busy restoring a Byzantine icon, part of the Metropolitan Museum’s famed collection, when suddenly a small piece of wood popped out, revealing a secret compartment. Inside was a ring bearing a seal.

  He studied the ring. It could not be anything but the Imperial seal, and the style was typical of the Palaiologos dynasty. It appeared to have some traces of blood on it.

  He picked up the phone.

  ‘James, it’s John. You know I’ve been restoring this Byzantine icon. Well, I’ve found something. I think you’d better have a look at it.’

  ‘Come right up.’

  A few minutes later John Halland was sitting opposite James Calvell. Between them, James’ desk was the temporary stage for the presentation of an item that, most probably, had not seen the light of day for a very long time.

  John was observing James studying the ring and the icon that had been the ring’s secret home. John half-smiled to himself. James’s fascination with the two items was written all over his face.