Chapter 196: ER25
Chapter 25: Bonds and Betrayals
The wagon wheels creaked softly as it rolled along the well-worn road to Kalavryta. The late autumn sun cast a warm glow over the rolling hills and scattered olive groves of the Morean countryside. Constantine sat inside the specially designed wagon, a creation born from remnants of memories of his previous life. It resembled the wagons he recalled from stories of the American frontier—sturdy, enclosed, and suitable for long journeys. The interior was cushioned, providing a respite from the rough terrain, and small windows allowed him to observe the passing scenery.
Opposite him sat George Sphrantzes, his ever-loyal confidant. Captain Andreas rode alongside the wagon on horseback, his posture straight and alert. He preferred the freedom and readiness that came with riding, a sentiment Constantine respected but did not share.
"I confess, my lord," George said with a wry smile, "this carriage of yours is quite the marvel. You have a talent for turning ideas into reality."
George ran his hand along the interior as the wagon smoothly navigated a rough patch of road. "This carriage handles the uneven path with remarkable grace," he remarked. "I've seldom traveled so comfortably over such terrain."
Constantine nodded. "I've had leather straps fitted beneath the carriage. They help to cushion the ride by absorbing the jolts from the road. It's a really simple idea."
George looked intrigued. "A clever adaptation. I've not seen such a design before. Is this another of your innovations?"
Constantine offered a modest smile. "I observed something similar on a Venetian wagon some years ago. It seemed prudent to adopt the idea for our own use." He chose his words carefully, mindful not to reveal too much. With so many new ideas emerging under his guidance, he preferred to attribute innovations to familiar sources lest he raise suspicions about the sudden wealth of knowledge he possessed.
Constantine returned the smile. "Comfort is a welcome luxury on such lengthy journeys. I am not fond of spending days on horseback."
George nodded, his gaze shifting to the second wagon trailing behind them. "Our Pyrvelos marksmen seem well-suited to their mobile post. Combining transport with defense—an ingenious idea."
"Thank you," Constantine replied. "Their presence ensures we're prepared for any unexpected encounters."
"Given the times, it's a wise precaution," George agreed.
Captain Andreas rode up alongside them, his expression alert. "The men are in good spirits, Despot. They appreciate the chance to stretch their legs during the stops."
"Good to hear," Constantine said. "A content crew makes for a smoother journey."
"And should misfortune cross our path," Captain Andreas said with a knowing smile, "any foes will discover they have underestimated us."
"Exactly," Constantine remarked dryly. "We may be attending a wedding, but we won't be caught off guard."
The group continued onward, the mood lightening as they discussed the upcoming festivities. "It's good to see Thomas settling down," George mused. "The marriage with Catherine will strengthen our position in the Morea."
"Indeed," Constantine agreed. "It's a step forward for all of us."
As they approached Kalavryta, the distant sounds of music and laughter reached their ears. The town was alive with celebration. Banners bearing the imperial emblem fluttered in the breeze, and the streets were adorned with garlands of flowers. Villagers and nobles alike gathered to partake in the festivities, their faces alight with joy.
The convoy was greeted with fanfare as they entered the town. Servants guided them to accommodations prepared for esteemed guests. That evening, the grand hall of the fortress was aglow with candlelight. Tables laden with an array of dishes stretched across the room, and the rich aroma of roasted meats and spiced wine filled the air.
Constantine stood among the guests, dressed in finely woven garments befitting his station. He approached Thomas, who was resplendent in ceremonial attire, a broad smile upon his face.
"Brother!" Thomas exclaimed, embracing Constantine warmly. "You've made it!"
"I wouldn't miss it for the world," Constantine replied, returning the embrace. "Congratulations on your union. May it bring prosperity and happiness."
Thomas's smile softened, though a hint of wistfulness flickered in his eyes. "Thank you, Constantine. It's a joy to have you here. I only wish Theodore could have joined us."
Constantine nodded, a shadow passing over his expression. "Yes, his absence is felt. "
Thomas sighed lightly. " It's unfortunate, but perhaps we can all be together another time."
"Let us hope so," Constantine agreed, though inwardly he wondered at his brother's true reasons.
Thomas gestured to his bride, Catherine, who stood gracefully beside him. "Allow me to present Catherine."
Constantine bowed respectfully. "It's an honor to welcome you to our family, Catherine. May your days be filled with joy."
"Thank you, Despot Constantine," she replied softly, her eyes reflecting kindness. "I've heard much about you."
"All good things, I hope," he replied with a gentle smile.
"I have brought a gift to commemorate this occasion," Constantine announced, signaling to a servant who presented an ornately bound Greek Bible. The cover was embossed with gold leaf, and the pages were edged with intricate designs.
Thomas's eyes widened appreciatively. "This is magnificent! Your reputation for fine books does not do it justice."
"It's a symbol of our heritage and faith," Constantine said. "May it guide you both in the years ahead."
Catherine smiled graciously. "We are deeply touched by your generosity."
As the evening progressed, music filled the hall, and guests took to dancing. Yet, beneath the merriment, Constantine couldn't shake a subtle melancholy. The celebration, though grand, paled in comparison to the opulence of past imperial festivities. It was a quiet reminder of the empire's waning glory.
Later, in a more secluded chamber, Constantine and Thomas sat together, goblets of wine in hand. George and one of Thomas's advisors, a stern man named Andronikos, stood nearby, engaged in their own conversation.
"To your health," Thomas toasted, raising his goblet.
"And to yours," Constantine replied, clinking their cups.
Thomas leaned back, a hint of frustration flickering across his face. "I must say, it stings that Theodore didn't deem it important enough to attend my wedding."
Constantine nodded sympathetically. "Indeed. Did he offer any explanation?"
Thomas sighed, swirling the wine in his goblet. "A letter arrived claiming urgent matters kept him in Mystras. But I can't help feeling it's more about his stubbornness regarding recent developments—like your Latin Bibles."
"He has been quite vocal against them," Constantine acknowledged. "His stance on the unification efforts is well known."
Thomas shook his head. "It's disappointing. At a time when our family should stand united, he lets old grievances and rigid views keep us apart."
"Perhaps in time he'll come around," Constantine offered. "The pressures we face might eventually make him see reason."
Thomas managed a thin smile. "One can hope. Speaking of which, I've been meaning to visit Glarentza. Your achievements there have piqued my curiosity. The Bibles you've produced are the talk of Morea."
"Word travels swiftly," Constantine remarked with a modest smile. "The venture has been fruitful."
"I must thank you again for the Bible," Thomas continued, admiring the ornate cover. "It's truly exceptional. But I admit, I'm intrigued. How did you come upon the idea of this... printing press? It's quite unlike you."
Constantine shrugged lightly. "I've spent many days poring over old manuscripts, studying the works of scholars and inventors. Inspiration can strike from the most unexpected passages in ancient texts."
Thomas raised an eyebrow. "Hmm, so, delving into the wisdom of the past to forge our future?"
"Exactly," Constantine replied. "Our ancestors had insights that we can build upon if we're willing to seek them out."
"Well, it's impressive," Thomas conceded. "And these Latin Bibles—do you truly believe they'll aid our brother the Emperor in his efforts to unite the churches?"
"I do," Constantine affirmed. "By making the scriptures accessible in Latin, we may bridge the divide between East and West. It could strengthen our alliances, which we sorely need against the Ottoman threat."
Thomas took a contemplative sip of his wine. "I agree. Whatever helps us repel the Ottomans is worthwhile in my eyes. However, some priests have been declaring it heresy. It's a delicate matter."
"Indeed," Constantine acknowledged. "Change often meets resistance. But the greater good must prevail."
Thomas's expression hardened slightly. "It's just disheartening that Theodore allows such disagreements to keep him from family obligations. My wedding was an opportunity for us all to stand together."
"I understand your feelings," Constantine said gently. "But don't let his absence overshadow your joy. Today is about you and Catherine."
Thomas sighed, then nodded. "You're right. I shouldn't let it dampen the celebration."
He managed a more genuine smile. "I am eager to see Glarentza for myself. The stories I've heard make it sound like a place reborn."
"You are welcome anytime," Constantine said warmly. "I'd be glad to show you the printing presses, the workshops—everything. There's much we're working on that could benefit all of us."
"Then I shall make plans to visit soon," Thomas replied. "It's time I saw these marvels firsthand."
Thomas then continued, "Speaking of which, I've also heard tales of your cannons. Impressive weapons, they say."
Constantine exchanged a brief glance with George. "We've made some advances, yes. Defensive measures are necessary in these uncertain times."
"Agreed," Thomas said. "Which brings me to a matter of importance—the Hexamilion Wall. Its state is... less than ideal."
Constantine sighed. "I've been meaning to discuss that. The wall suffered greatly during Turahan Bey's invasion seven years ago. It needs significant repairs."
Thomas gestured to Andronikos. "We've assessed the situation. Restoring the wall will require substantial funds and manpower—thousands of gold ducats."
"I'm prepared to cover the majority of the costs," Constantine offered. "We can't afford to leave it vulnerable. I can also provide cannons to strengthen its defenses."
Thomas's eyes lit up. "That would be most welcome. With your support, we can begin major repairs early next year."
"Time is of the essence," George interjected. "The Ottomans won't remain idle forever."
Thomas raised his goblet again. "To our shared efforts, then. United, we can secure the Morea against any threat."
They drank to the agreement, the weight of responsibility settling upon them.
"I must admit," Thomas said, setting down his goblet, "I was hoping you could spare a few cannons for my own fortifications."
Constantine smiled politely. "Production is slow, I'm afraid, brother. Each one requires careful crafting. My priority is to equip the Hexamilion Wall first. Once that's secured, we can discuss additional allocations."
"Of course," Thomas conceded. "I look forward to that."
As the night wore on, the brothers shared stories and memories, the warmth of family momentarily easing the burdens they bore.
The journey back to Glarentza began under clear skies. The convoy moved at a steady pace, the two wagons flanked by ten cavalrymen. Captain Andreas rode at the front, ever vigilant. The landscape shifted from open fields to dense forests as they followed the winding road.
Inside the wagon, Constantine and George discussed plans for the coming months. "Securing the Hexamilion Wall is a significant step," George noted. "It will send a strong message."
"Agreed," Constantine said. "But we must remain cautious. Not everyone shares our vision."
The forest enveloped the road, towering oaks casting dappled shadows that danced with the sway of the branches. The chirping of birds had faded, replaced by an unsettling silence.
Constantine peered through the small window. "It's unusually quiet," he remarked softly.
George glanced up from his papers. "Perhaps the wildlife senses a storm."
Captain Andreas rode ahead, his gaze sharp. The horses grew restless, snorting and flicking their ears. A distant rustle caught his attention—a snapped twig, the faint crunch of leaves.
Without warning, a shrill whistle cut through the air. "Ambush!" Captain Andreas shouted, drawing his sword.
Arrows rained down, thudding into the carriage and the ground. The cries of men and horses erupted as twenty horsemen burst from the underbrush, their blades gleaming wickedly.
"Get down!" George shouted, pulling Constantine away from the window.
The hidden panel from the second wagon slid open. The Pyrvelos marksmen took position, their eyes focused and determined.
"Fire at will!" one of them commanded.
The marksmen unleashed a volley, the thunderous cracks of their weapons startling the attackers. A couple of horsemen fell, their mounts rearing in panic.
Captain Andreas rallied the cavalrymen. "Hold the line! Protect the Despot!"
The attackers hesitated, unprepared for such resistance. The marksmen reloaded swiftly, their training evident. Another volley rang out, further thinning the ranks of the assailants. The sharp cracks of the Pyrvelos echoed through the trees, and the attackers' horses, unaccustomed to the thunderous sounds, reared and bolted in panic. Chaos erupted as riders struggled to control their panicked mounts, some being thrown to the ground. The confusion further disoriented the assailants, leaving them vulnerable.
Constantine peered cautiously through a slit in the wagon. He could see Captain Andreas engaged in fierce combat with a particularly aggressive attacker.
"We need to support them," Constantine urged.
George shook his head. "Our best advantage is to stay protected. The marksmen are handling it."
Within minutes, the battle ended. The attackers, realizing their disadvantage, began to retreat. A few tried to flee, but the cavalrymen pursued, capturing those they could.
As the dust settled, Captain Andreas approached the wagon with a slight cut above his brow bleeding. "Despot, are you unharmed?"
"We're fine," Constantine assured him. "Excellent work, Captain."
"Your preparations made the difference," Captain Andreas replied.
"Casualties?" George inquired.
"Two of our men killed, three wounded," Captain Andreas reported. "We captured one of the attackers alive. The rest are either dead or escaped."
"Bring the prisoner here," Constantine ordered.
A bruised and disheveled man was dragged forward, his hands bound. He avoided meeting Constantine's gaze.
"Who sent you?" Constantine demanded.
The man spat on the ground. "We're just bandits. Saw an opportunity."
Captain Andreas stepped closer, scrutinizing the prisoner's face. A flicker of recognition crossed his features. "I know you," he said coldly. "You fought at the Battle of the Echinades. You served under Despot Theodore."
The prisoner's eyes widened, then narrowed defiantly. "You must be mistaken."
"No," Captain Andreas insisted. "I'd never forget a face."
Constantine's expression hardened. "So, this wasn't a random attack."
The prisoner remained silent.
"Take him away," Constantine ordered. "We'll deal with him later."
As the guards led the prisoner off, Constantine turned to George and Captain Andreas. "This has gone too far."
George nodded solemnly. "An attack on your life cannot be ignored."
"We can't wait for the Emperor's supposed arrival next year," Constantine declared. "Theodore has crossed a line. We must address this ourselves, no matter the cost."
Captain Andreas placed a hand on his sword's hilt. "What are your orders, Despot?"
"Increase security measures immediately," Constantine said. "No more travel without a full escort. And begin preparations. Come spring, we may have to confront Theodore directly."
George met his gaze. "Are you certain? Such actions will lead to war."
"I'm aware," Constantine replied gravely. "But if we don't act, he will continue to undermine everything we've worked for."
The weight of the decision hung heavy between them. Captain Andreas bowed his head. "We stand ready to serve."
"Thank you," Constantine said. "For now, let's focus on returning home safely. We have much to prepare."
That night, back in the familiar surroundings of Clermont Castle, Constantine convened an urgent meeting with his most trusted advisors. The ambush had accelerated the need for decisive action.
"Theodore's hostility cannot be ignored any longer," Constantine stated firmly. "But for now, we keep this quiet. We strengthen our forces, prepare in silence, and when spring arrives, we will confront him directly with our new army."
Theophilus Dragas, who had been informed of the events, frowned deeply. "An attack on your life is a grave matter, Despot. Are you certain we should not respond immediately?"
"We can't afford open conflict just yet," Constantine replied. "If we move too hastily, we risk fracturing our strength. We need time to consolidate our forces."
Captain Andreas nodded in agreement. "Our men are loyal and well-trained, but we must ensure we're fully prepared for any engagement."
"Exactly," Constantine said. "Double the training efforts. Discreetly recruit more men. Increase patrols around key locations, but do so without drawing unnecessary attention."
George exchanged a cautious glance with Theophilus. "And what of the Emperor? If we act against Theodore, it could place us at odds with him."
Constantine's gaze hardened. "Even if my brother John disapproves, Theodore must be stopped. His actions endanger everything we've built. When the time comes, we'll deal with any repercussions."
The room fell into contemplative silence. Each man understood the gravity of the situation.
"Despot," Theophilus began cautiously, "engaging in conflict with your brother carries significant risks. Are you prepared for what that entails?"
"I am," Constantine affirmed. "I will not allow his schemes to jeopardize my life or the future we are forging. We act for the greater good."
George placed a fist over his heart. "We stand with you, Despot. Whatever comes, we are ready."
"Thank you," Constantine said sincerely. "Winter is coming fast. For now, our focus is on preparation. Come spring, Theodore will face the consequences of his choices."
As the meeting adjourned, Constantine lingered by the window, gazing out at the moonlit courtyard. The shadows seemed more profound tonight, the weight of impending conflict pressing upon him.
"Brother against brother," he whispered.
He clenched his jaw, a steely resolve settling within him. "I don't answer to John," he murmured. "I don't answer to anyone."
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