Stewart Binns: Conquest

Leo was overwhelmed by the Prince’s frankness. ‘My Prince, this is too much for me. I don’t know…’

‘Let me finish.’ John Comnenus understood the embarrassment felt by the priest. He smiled at him and continued his story. As he did so, he pulled an amulet from a pouch around his waist. ‘My father gave me this talisman, which he has worn throughout his reign. He said that if I give it to the man I seek, he will know that it comes from my father and represents a sacred trust. We have visited your superior, the Bishop of Corinth, and he told us that you are a good man, a fine priest, and that we could place our trust in you. But he also told us that you wouldn’t easily reveal the whereabouts of the man we hope to find. Years ago, my father asked the bishop to find a sanctuary for this man and ordered the local governor to have his garrison keep a discreet but watchful eye on the district.’

Several things suddenly began to make sense to Leo: the bishop’s long lectures about the sanctity of the confessional, no matter how disturbing the revelations of a man racked by sin might be; the reminders about the necessity to protect every member of the parish from prying questions, even if one of his flock was a stranger from afar; and the frequent visits from the governor’s men-at-arms, asking about the welfare of the locals and whether any armed men had been sighted in the vicinity. All this just to protect a hermit?

John Comnenus continued. ‘I know you want to do your duty as a good priest; I don’t ask you to do otherwise. Please take this amulet and carry it to the man we seek. You are only the third man to touch it since it was placed around my father’s neck thirty years ago.’

Leo looked down at the amulet. Hanging from a heavy silver chain was a translucent stone the size of a quail’s egg. It was set in scrolls of silver, each of which was a filigree snake, so finely worked that the oval eyes and forked tongues of the serpents could be seen in detail. The stone itself was yellow in colour and, at first glance, apart from its size and smoothness, seemed unremarkable. But then Leo held it to the light of the campfire and grimaced in horror at the image he saw. Silhouetted in the baleful yellow glow of the stone was the face of Satan, the horned beast that had haunted men from the beginning of time. Close to the hideous face, trapped in the stone like the devil’s familiars, were a tiny spider and a group of small winged insects.

‘It’s an abomination. God help us. Surely all who see it are cursed.’

The young Prince of Byzantium tried to reassure the man of God. ‘It is what it is, but it is not to be feared.’

‘Sire, I don’t understand, it is Lucifer himself.’ Leo held it as far away as he could without dropping it.

‘Look again, Father.’

With a squint of revulsion, Leo examined the amulet again. As he twisted it in the light he saw something else. Cutting through the stone was a streak of red, like a splash of blood, which, at a certain angle, obscured the face of the Devil.

‘My father told me it carries five messages of abiding truth. The first message of the stone is courage: that we must face up to our fears and anxieties. The second message is discipline: it tells us that only through discipline and strength of will are we able to control the darkness within us. The third message is humility: we are reminded that only God can work the miracles that make the world what it is. The fourth message is sacrifice: just as the sacrifice of the Blood of Christ saved our mortal souls, so we should be prepared to sacrifice ourselves for God and for one another. Finally, the fifth message is wisdom: the wisdom not to be afraid of the stone, but to gain truth from it. The amulet reveals the face of the Devil surrounded by his acolytes, but they are trapped – entombed by the Blood of Christ. It is a sacred amulet and the man we seek has been its guardian nearly all his life. Now I am returning it to him, in the hope that he will feel that I am also worthy of it, thus anointing me as a true sovereign, just as he endorsed my father many years ago.’

As Leo clenched his fist around the amulet and thrust it deep into the pocket of his cassock, the Prince could sense his inner turmoil.

Leo turned to the Prince. ‘Sire, does this man have a name?’

‘My father didn’t give me his name.’

Leo suddenly realized that although he had met the man, he too had no idea what his name might be. He referred to him simply as the ‘Old Man of the Mountain’.

John Comnenus interrupted his train of thought. ‘Go to your altar and pray for us and then get some rest. Rise early and go to this man. You will not be followed, you have my word. Give him the amulet and ask him if he’ll see me.’

Leo responded with relief. ‘Thank you, sire, for understanding my hardship in not immediately doing your bidding. I do know a man who lives high in the mountains. He may be the one you seek but he has asked me to respect his solitude. I will go to him; it will take a day to get there and to return.’

The Prince smiled at the priest. ‘Only a truly honourable man would protect a stranger in such circumstances. The bishop was right: you are a good shepherd to your flock. Come, I will walk with you to your chapel.’

As the pair walked across the clearing, Leo felt uplifted by the Prince’s words and honoured to be entrusted with an object so close to the Emperor’s heart.

John Azoukh began to play his flute. It was a balmy night in a perfect setting, a rare opportunity for the warriors of Byzantium to enjoy a few moments of quiet reflection and to dream of home and their loved ones.

Several hundred feet above them in his high pasture, with his own vivid reminiscences fresh in his memory, the old man had fallen asleep. He now woke with a jolt, his body aching in parts, numb in others. He managed to pull himself upright and slowly made his way to his humble shelter. He was soon asleep again, but not before his thoughts had once more returned to the turbulent events that long ago engulfed his life.

Early the next morning, the Captain of the Guard and a dozen men took Leo to the beginning of the steep path into the hills before turning back to let him make his long journey alone.

The sun had already started its late afternoon decline as Leo reached the high pastures where he knew the man he sought had his simple home. He approached a crescent of open ground fringed by trees with, at its centre, a small wooden hut set hard against the rocks that rose sharply to the crest of a hill behind. It was an idyllic spot from where, on a clear day, it was possible to see the distant shimmer of the Mediterranean, a full two days’ walk away to the west. The basic wooden shelter was a lean-to jutting from the rocks, its roof covered with animal skins weighted down by large stones. The roof extended a little to cover the doorway where a simple frame of interwoven reeds acted as a door. At the back of the hut a dry-stone chimney and hearth had been built.

It was a harsh world in the depths of winter, but today, warmed by summer’s heat and surrounded by meadows bristling with life, it seemed perfect. Two goats were tethered in the open pasture, poultry ran around in aimless circles, neat rows of vegetables and herbs grew against the edge of the rocky backdrop and, over to the east, a small lake was home to a plentiful supply of fish. The surrounding hills, which seemed to stretch endlessly into the distance, offered good hunting, with boar, deer and rabbit. As Leo surveyed the scene, he could see several animal skins stretched out to dry in the sun and piles of freshly cut firewood.