Stewart Binns - Anarchy

The refreshments were welcome and helped pass the time until the Emperor appeared. The low sun of an impending dusk filled the room with a golden light when the doors to John Comnenus’ private apartments opened with a flourish.

Preceded by a pair of Varangians and followed by a host of stewards and servants, the most powerful man in Christendom drifted into the room in the long imperial purple robe of his office. With him was the other John about whom I had heard so much – John Azoukh, the handsome and beguiling Seljuk slave, adopted by the Emperor’s father to be his lifelong companion.

While Azoukh, the slave by birth, looked every inch an emperor – with a profile that would grace any noble bust or coin of the realm – Comnenus, the Emperor by birth, was short, leathery-skinned, rather portly and some way short of handsome. Both were smiling from ear to ear as Eadmer and I sprang from our chairs.

We bowed deeply to our hosts.

John Comnenus, a man revered by his subjects and already held in even greater esteem than his illustrious father, grabbed me by the shoulders and pulled me upright.

‘Harold of Hereford, what a pleasure to see you. I’m so sorry to have kept you waiting. Let me introduce Lord John Azoukh, my Grand Domestic, Commander in Chief of my armies.’

‘My Lord Emperor, it is an honour to meet you. This is Eadmer, my sergeant-at-arms. I have heard so much about you and your father from my mother.’

‘I was a little young at the time when your parents and their companions were here – a boy of eleven, perhaps twelve – but you are now the third generation of your famous family that I have met.’

‘You flatter me, sire – especially coming from a Comneni Emperor, the most respected rulers in Christendom.’

‘If I remember correctly, you were born here in the Blachernae… something about a furtive birth, because your mother had taken Holy Orders?’

‘Indeed, sire, it is a complicated story. But your father was very generous in allowing me to be born here in secret.’

‘Come sit with me. I want to talk about the noble Godwin of Ely, as we know him – your grandfather, Hereward of Bourne. I will have to be brief, because my commanders are fretting about the readiness of the army.’

Despite the pressure on his time, John Comnenus sat for over forty minutes and described how, nine years earlier – which, bizarrely, was about the time I was setting sail for the Holy Land with the Lady Livia – he and John Azoukh had travelled to the Western Peloponnese to meet my grandfather.

‘My father, Alexius, who had been Emperor for almost forty years, was dying, slowly and painfully. I was thirty years old, but my father thought I had led a sheltered life and lacked the wisdom and courage that came from struggle and adversity. He gave me an amulet that your grandfather had given to him when they became friends.’

‘The Talisman of Truth, sire. I have heard so much about it.’

‘My father told me that Godwin of Ely, who had served as Captain of his Varangians for many years, was the most worthy man he had ever met and that I should hear his story and learn from it. So, armed with the amulet, Prince John and I went to meet him in his mountain lair, guided by the local priest. Your grandfather was very old – I think he said he was over eighty – but he still had the aura of a mighty warrior and the presence of a sage. He told us the story of his amazing life and held us enthralled for three days. He said he had been waiting for our visit and that it would draw his life to a fitting end. I was very moved by the whole experience, as was Prince John.’

‘Yes, the Emperor is right. I will never forget our time with your grandfather – he was not only the greatest warrior Byzantium has ever had, he also possessed the wisdom of a seer. Wisdom and courage run in your family, you should be very proud.’

‘My Lord Prince, you are very kind.’

The Emperor began to look at his stewards. Time was passing.

‘Forgive me, but we must be on the road to the north early in the morning. So let me complete my account; I think it will give you great comfort. After your grandfather had finished his story, he died peacefully and contentedly, as if a great weight had been lifted from him. The final words he said to me were written down and have guided me throughout my reign.’

One of the Emperor’s stewards handed him a scroll, which he began to read.

‘“You have made a good beginning, my Prince. Your father is a great Emperor and an even better man. You seem to have many of his qualities. Follow his advice, live by his example, and you will become a worthy successor. Byzantium will flourish under your reign and you will leave a legacy that will be remembered for generations to come. But remember, you are only a man. Even Emperors are mortal. Lives – even great ones – soon become memories. Learn from the past, but live your life in the present, and hope that the future will benefit from what you do on earth. Remember, once your time is over, it has gone forever.”

‘We organized an honour guard for the funeral. Your grandfather was buried facing north-west, towards the England he talked about so fondly. Men of the Varangian Guard dug a deep grave, so that he would never be disturbed, and so that we could place in it all his precious belongings. The priest, a fine man called Leo of Methone, blessed each one as it was arranged around his body.

‘Each of the Varangians present then took it in turns to cover the body with the parched earth of his beloved mountain, and Prince John placed a simple wreath of olive leaves on the grave. Afterwards, we ordered that everything on the hilltop be destroyed so that, in keeping with his oath to King William, no trace of his final resting place would ever be found. Leo of Methone then read an epitaph: “Here lies Godwin of Ely, known in a previous life as Hereward of Bourne. No nobler man has ever lived. May he rest in peace.”’

I wept openly as the Emperor described my grandfather’s resting place at the end of his life’s long adventure. There were also tears in the eyes of the ‘Two Johns of Constantinople’, as they were popularly known. Each stepped forward and embraced me warmly.

The Emperor then beckoned to one of his stewards to step forward.

‘We were going to bury this with your grandfather. But at the last moment, I changed my mind. Your grandfather sacrificed so much in its cause; I must have known that this day would come and someone would arrive to be its new guardian.’

The Emperor handed me a small pouch of soft leather. It was the Talisman.

My mother’s detailed description of it came flooding back to me: ‘Hanging from a heavy silver chain, it is a translucent stone the size of a quail’s egg. Set in scrolls of silver, each of which is a filigree snake so finely worked that the oval eyes and forked tongues of the serpents can be seen in detail, the stone is yellow in colour and, at first glance, apart from its size and smoothness, seems unremarkable. But when held to the light, silhouetted in the baleful yellow glow of the stone is the face of Satan, the horned beast that has haunted men from the beginning of time. Close to the hideous face, trapped in the stone like the Devil’s familiars, are a tiny spider and a group of small winged insects.’ It was the most remarkable object; I felt overawed and unsure what to do with it.

The Emperor saw me hesitate and smiled at me.

‘The Talisman of Truth has a new guardian. Why don’t you wear it?’

It was the obvious thing to do. But such was its amazing pedigree, it hadn’t occurred to me.

The Emperor took back the Talisman and, as I leaned forward, he placed it over my head, saying these words.

‘Harold of Hereford, Guardian of the Talisman of Truth, may it lead you to your destiny and a long and happy life.’