The last was a guess, if not a wild one, but the implication was again obvious: I have spies within your court and I know everything I need to before you deign to inform me.
CHAPTER SIX
The outer wall of Constantinople was so extensive it seemed to take the entire contents of a glass of sand to ride to the point of entry, which meant darkest night had come by the time Manuel Boutoumites and his charge arrived outside the Blachernae Gate, a pair of great doors studded with iron bolts and some silver-topped to denote the imperial device. This was flanked by two massive crenellated towers, the whole area illuminated by the same array of lit torches that lined the city parapet all the way to the southern stretch of water known as the Propontis.
Unlike the many previous gates they had passed, closed for the night, these were wide open, yet it was testament to the nervousness of the garrison that a strong body of archers stood guard, so fearful were they of the reputation of the man coming to visit their ruler. Looking backwards at that line of flickering and diminishing points, which, due to the arc of the walls, disappeared halfway, brought home to Bohemund, more than daylight had done, just how immense was the Byzantine capital and what kind of force would be required to invest it.
To overcome the outer defences was only the first part of the battle, as his observations on his tour of the inner city had underlined. Even with a whole crusading army and adding a powerful fleet, which they did not have, it would be more like the fabled siege of Troy than anything he had experienced previously in his years of fighting, a decade in duration and likely requiring some kind of ruse to bring about success.
Such conclusions had played upon his thinking over the time of waiting and they were still present now as they approached the entrance to the Blachernae Palace, a residence that had become the favoured accommodation for Alexius Comnenus. He rarely entered the Great Palace at the heart of the city, Bohemund suspected because too many of his predecessors had been murdered there. The second reason for the shift to the Blachernae was comfort: it occupied a hill to the very north of the city in an area well away from the crowded stink of the old urban heart and the elevation gave the occupant good views in all directions, it also being high enough to benefit from any available and cooling breeze.
There was a third compelling purpose to such a place of residence: Constantinople was a city much given to riot, at times when food was short and prices rose to levels the lowest could not afford, at others when some event set the population at loggerheads with whoever wore the imperial crown — excessive taxation, some perceived insult to the Orthodox religion, to which the populace was much attached — or just a long-lasting heatwave in an overcrowded city. Being at the north-eastern tip of the city a threatened emperor could make a quick and easy escape till things settled down.
Again it was only torchlit illumination that gave a clue to the massive dimensions and gilded magnificence of what was now the administrative centre of the empire. Diminished that polity might be, but the palace reeked of a wealth almost impossible to quantify, while within the walls were the men, and they were numbered in the several hundreds, who carried out the business of government, most of them eunuchs.
Thinking on such a body, Bohemund could not but help reflect on their reputation for intrigue, jealousies and in-fighting; to him such leanings seemed to seep from the shadows thrown onto the walls by torchlight. Every time an emperor fell, there was always some powerful eunuch at the centre of the conspiracy to topple him.
The Varangian Guard lined the corridors through which he and Boutoumites passed, each with breastplate, helmet and axe; they were trusted to be armed in the imperial presence yet it was also true, and had been since the days of Ancient Rome, that any Praetorian Guard were the first to be seduced, which made them as much a threat as a safeguard. If these men sought to appear indifferent, every eye flicked a little in Bohemund’s direction, for passing them was not just a fellow warrior and one who well overbore them in height, but also a near legendary one; if some looks carried a glare of hate it would be from an Anglo-Saxon.
Finally they entered the same large chamber, which unbeknown to Bohemund had so recently witnessed the deference of Godfrey de Bouillon and his captains. There were no courtiers present now, just the guards and, sat on his dais, the Emperor Alexius dressed not in purple, but in what looked like workaday garments, a smock edged with embroidery of an almost archaic Greek design, albeit made of very fine linen. When he got up to greet Bohemund, the thought arose in the mind of his visitor that it might be because only by standing on his elevated platform could he look him in the eye.
A short period of silence ensued as two men who had only ever seen each other on a battlefield and at a distance carried out a mutual examination. Alexius was of medium height and had the chest and shoulders of a fighting man while his legs, where they were visible, showed strong and muscular support for that upper body. His skin was olive-coloured yet pale and spoke of an indoor life, made to look more luminous by the many oil lamps, the nose prominent and slightly hooked, the lips full and sensuous, while the gaze from his dark-brown eyes was steady and unblinking. The voice, when he spoke, was deep and composed, strong enough to create an echo in what was a near empty and high-ceilinged chamber.
‘Count Bohemund.’
That got a slight dip of the Norman head. ‘Face-to-face, Alexius.’
‘Highness!’ whispered an irritated Manuel Boutoumites. ‘Show respect.’
That got a low chuckle. ‘I have shown enough respect by the time of waiting, then coming when summoned.’
‘A proud Norman, then,’ Alexius said, with a ghost of a smile. ‘Not much given to bending the knee?’
‘I do so when I am seated.’
That brought a full smile to the lips of the Emperor and a sharp intake of breath from Manuel Boutoumites, for it was a clear demand for a chair; few were the people allowed to sit in the imperial presence outside the immediate family, and even they required permission. It was plain from the ensuing pause that Alexius knew he was being challenged, that Bohemund was demanding to be treated as an equal not a subject. It was also obvious he was thinking through the ramifications of either agreeing or a refusal.
‘Let’s you and I retire,’ he said finally, looking around the large chamber, ‘to somewhere more informal.’
‘To where we can speak in private.’
‘You may wish to say things others will not take kindly to hear.’
‘Highness?’ Manuel Boutoumites asked, who realised that he was not to be included.
‘Please wait here, Curopalates, to escort Count Bohemund back to his camp.’ The hesitation of his advisor was palpable and the reason obvious. ‘Do not fear for my person, the Count is unarmed, and if he seeks to use those great hams of his to break my neck, one of my guards will chop them off.’
There was a moment, when Alexius descended from his dais to ground level, when he registered his comparative height and it was not one that spoke of ease. Accustomed to respect for his title this was a not a man to be easily overawed; imperial splendour — and the Blachernae Palace, even near empty, had that in abundance — would not impress this particular Norman, with his steady gaze and a body stillness that spoke of a high degree of self-control. For a second Alexius felt discomfort, before abruptly spinning round to walk away, his mind full of thoughts over which he had mulled many times.
Of all the Frankish knights supposedly coming to the aid of Byzantium — and many of them were a mystery in terms of their personal aspirations — Bohemund was likely to be the most dangerous and the most difficult to control, for he had no respect for an empire which he and his family had fought both for and against. Nor could he easily believe in Bohemund’s piety; if faith had brought the likes of Godfrey de Bouillon to his city and might be bringing on those who followed, Alexius could not believe that such a cause had prompted this man to take part.