Alexis Konnaris - The Emperor Awakes

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Symitzis family:

Elli: current head of the Valchern Corporation, matriarch of the family, elder sister of Iraklios, and mother of Aristo and Vasilis

Aristo: Elli’s eldest son and brother of Vasilis

Vasilis: Elli’s youngest son and brother of Aristo

Iraklios: businessman and Elli’s younger brother

Eleni: head of the family in the 15 ^th century, and mother of Michael and Mark

Michael: Eleni’s eldest son and brother of Mark

Mark: Eleni’s youngest son and brother of Michael

Zoe: head of the family in the early 20 ^th century, Antonios’ elder sister, and mother of Manuel, Nikitas and Stephanos

Antonios: businessman and Zoe’s younger brother

Zozo: Antonios’ eldest daughter

Manuel: Zoe’s eldest son, and brother of Nikitas and Stephanos

Nikitas: Zoe’s second son, and brother of Manuel and Stephanos

Stephanos: Zoe’s youngest son, and brother of Manuel and Nikitas

Markantaskis family:

Andros: businessman, head of the family, husband of Anna, and father of Giorgos and Katerina

Anna: Andros’ wife, and mother of Giorgos and Katerina

Giorgos: archaeologist, son of Andros and Anna, and brother of Katerina

Katerina: businesswoman, daughter of Andros and Anna, and sister of Giorgos Ariana: Anna’s mother, and grandmother of Giorgos and Katerina

Others:

Madame Marcquesa de Parmalanski: leader of the Ruinands

Mrs Manto: Antonios’ housekeeper and cook, grandmother of Manto below Mrs Manto: Elli’s housekeeper and cook, granddaughter of Manto above Andrew Le Charos: Australian businessman of Greek descent

Ducesa de Mori Astir: wealthy socialite James Calvell: deputy director of the Metropolitan Museum in New York

John Halland: restorer working for the Metropolitan Museum in New York

Alexei Sumarov: director of the Hermitage Museum, St. Petersburg, Russia Spyros: abbot of the Monastery of Pantokrator, Mount Athos, Greece

Aggelos: librarian of the Monastery of Pantokrator, Mount Athos, Greece

Forest of Valens, near Constantinople

4th May 1453 A.D.

He had committed a heinous crime, but his ruthlessness had ebbed away as he crossed the woods. The silence that shrouded everything around him would have been welcome had he not had blood on his hands, the blood of a governess to an innocent baby. He did not mean to do it. It was an accident. She got in the way. He had lifted the baby from his crib and was all packed up and ready to go when she appeared at the door, no doubt on her usual round to check on the baby.

Why did she have to put up a struggle and start screaming? She had to be silenced otherwise the whole plan would have been shattered before it had even started. He had lost the element of surprise and the screams had cost him his head start.

It was a long way to the rendezvous point. He would not make it there. But nor did he want to make it there. He had disobeyed his master’s instructions to avoid bloodshed. And now he could not return to his master to complete his mission and deliver the precious cargo. He had to flee. He knew what his punishment would be if he had gone to his master with the blood of an innocent bystander on his hands.

He cursed under his breath and shook his head from side to side. He hated losing the rest of his payment. Yet it was better to be alive and with a bit of financial comfort than wealthy but dead. He decided his best chance was to hide in the forest of Valens, which was close enough to Constantinople to reach it under the cover of darkness and large and dense enough to disappear in it with his trail lost before dawn. Little did he know that things would not turn out to be that simple.

On that particular night, a quiet and usually deserted forest would become particularly lively and he would be caught in the middle, a silent witness who would unintentionally slip.

He was sweating profusely even though it was a cold night. Surely whatever predatory animals were out there would smell his fear. In the inhabitants of the woods he saw spies everywhere. In the shadows that jumped behind every tree, bush and rock he saw an army ready to pounce the moment he stumbled.

The full moon was his enemy, bathing everything in bright light. But then again he was a master of disguise. He knew how to become one of those shadows he was so afraid of. He was on heightened alert. His fear became his ally and he relished it. It was a game of life or death. He was thirsty and hungry. He had not eaten since that morning. That was since he had left Constantinople.

He had seen lights of inns in the distance, but he could not afford to stop. His disfigurements would betray him. His was not a face and body you could forget. People would only need to lay eyes on him once before he got imprinted on their memory and became the subject of drowning nightmares, ravishing one’s mind both as terrifying daydreaming and as terror-drenched sleep. He opened the flap of his bag and checked on the baby. He was fast asleep. He was a fearless little thing. He had slept the whole way.

He had to get him to a nursing mother soon. He could not afford to let this little treasure and ticket to his future die in his hands. His daydreaming shattered as abruptly as it visited him as he remembered his current predicament. He had burned that bridge now, hadn’t he? He tapped the leather wallet hanging from his belt and breathed a sigh of relief when he felt the solid mass of the icon and the ring with the royal insignia hanging on the golden chain.

The setting moon would briefly provide the best cover and opportunity for him to reach his refuge. He had a small window before dawn broke. The woods were already waking up and the first birdsong punctured the stillness and the different frequencies pulsated through the air, momentarily distracting his ears, and caressed the trees and animals that begun to stir.

He became even more alert. And it was then that he caught that small sound carried by the wind. It was the most imperceptible of sounds, but unmistakable. Those were hoofs. He put his ear to the ground and frowned. Four horses. They were coming from the East. Was it a party pursuing him or was it unrelated? He looked for an inconspicuous hiding place. Immediately he thought of the baby in his arms. He could not afford to be betrayed if it awoke. But he could not let it go.

In the time that it took him to debate his options, he heard a second set of horses coming from the opposite direction and approaching fast. He had no time to run. So he left the path and couched in a gap inside a large bush and waited. He was not a devout man, but he prayed.

The two groups almost collided as they came around the bend. They stopped just in time in a tangle of hoofs, legs and dust and stared at each other. It would have been a face off, followed by a violent battle, were it not for the shock of the chance encounter. The head riders dismounted with the hand ready at their side where their swords hung. Yet as they moved closer to each other the tension was already dissipating.

One group was Ottoman, the other Byzantine. They sized up each other and bowed respectfully. In the current environment this behaviour was mystifying. The hooded figure held his breath and watched through the openings in the branches. He was trying hard to make out what the two head riders were talking about.

‘Salam elekum, Suleyman, God is one’, the Byzantine said.

‘Elekum salam, Michael, Allahu Akbar’, the Ottoman replied, with not the slightest hint of surprise let alone shock at his supposedly mortal enemy’s respectful greeting.

The two men embraced warmly and kissed. Without a further word they walked together to a clearing just off the path. Riders from both groups laid down rugs and started to prepare coffee, which they would serve to their leaders once they had settled down to their chosen spot inside the clearing.