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Authors: Alan Gordon

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“I guess I'm not that clever,” I said.
“Sundown at the main Pisan wharf,” said Will. “Do you need anything? Weapons? Disguises?”
“Just a large wineskin,” I said.
“A wineskin?” said Phil, smirking. “What for?”
“You don't think I would do this sober, do you?”
“At sundown, then,” said Will, and they left.
“How are you going to get back?” demanded Aglaia.
“I'll figure something out, despite my deficiency of wit,” I said. “If I have to, I'll just keep going north and take the next bridge up.”
“What if we're under siege by then?” she asked.
“They don't have enough time or men to surround the entire city,” I said. “I'll loop around to the far end and come in near the Golden Gate.”
“When's the last time you ran that far?” said Plossus.
“The last time there was a war coming up behind me,” I said.
 
As night fell across the Golden Horn, a squadron of Varangians and I slipped through a gate in the seawall and quickly filled a dozen longboats.
We were shielded from observations from the opposite shore by a Pisan roundship that had been idled by the raising of the chain. The
Varangians had chosen this point for crossing because there was a shallow dip on the Galatan side that would give them some concealment as they broke for the tower.
The oarsmen propelled us across the Golden Horn quickly. Will, Phil, and I were on the second boat. The squadron leapt to the shore and vanished, cloaks around their armor and cloth over their axe-blades to prevent them from reflecting any moonlight. The moment the last man landed, the boats took off and returned to the safety of the city.
My two escorts peeled off from the main group and motioned me toward a small city of pavilions that had sprung up during the day.
“There's a patrol about a hundred paces away,” whispered Phil. “We could probably distract them for you.”
“On the contrary, let me distract them for you,” I said.
“What makes you think you can do that?” asked Will.
“Just give me the wineskin,” I said.
They shrugged and handed it to me. I took a long gulp, then splashed a little on my face and motley. Not the first winestain on the latter, and I prayed silently that it wouldn't be the last.
“See you after the war, gentlemen,” I said, and I climbed up the slope and started staggering in the direction of the pavilions.
A normal man who tries to sneak into an armed camp will be discovered and executed as a spy. A fool, on the other hand, is a harmless creature, as we all know. Especially a drunken fool bellowing a sea chanty at the top of his lungs,
“Fare thee well now, milady, my ship leaves at dawn.
I knew when I paid thee that I soon would be gone.
Through the weather may be stormy,
And I know you adore me,
The sea lies before me, and I must sail on.”
A patrol was upon me in no time, a well-armored sextet with Flemish colors.
“What the hell are you doing?” demanded their leader.
I stared at him stupidly. “What the hell does it sound like I'm doing?” I said. “I'm singing.
“We'll travel to Outremer where Our Savior was born.
Then we'll carry silks and leathers from the great Golden Horn,
To the country of Isis,
And we'll come back with spices,
And maybe the price is too low—we'll sail on.”
“Stop that,” he said. “What are you doing here?”
“I'm singing!” I shouted. “
A good man stays pious—”
“I said, stop that,” he interrupted me. “Why are you singing here?”
“I live here,” I said. “What are you doing here?”
He stared at me.
“You live here?”
“In Estanor,” I said. “Over there. I took a room with a Jewish family. I've been drinking, and I need to lie down on my own bed. Want some?” I pulled the wineskin from my shoulder and offered it around.
“Search the fool,” he commanded. “If he has no weapons, let him go.”
Two of his men frisked me, and I started giggling.
“Please, stop,” I gasped. “I'm ticklish.”
They were grinning, but finished the job.
“Nothing, sir,” said one.
The officer was looking at me carefully.
“Aren't you the fool who sang at us from the walls?” he asked.
“I am, sir,” I said, puffing out my chest proudly. “And I've been drinking on that glorious exploit ever since.”
“Then you are with the enemy,” he said.
“No, sir!” I protested vehemently. “When the Greeks pay me to sing, I sing for the Greeks. When the Crusaders pay me to sing, I sing for them.”
“And who are you singing for now?”
“Myself, sir. Sometimes a fool has to assert his independence.
“A good man stays pious, and so does his spawn.
He'll keep to his faith though the mouths of Hell yawn.
That kind of behavior
May gratify Our Savior,
But this side of the grave you're going to have to sail on.”
“Tell you what, Fool,” said the officer. “The payment for passage is that you sing a verse for the glorious Crusaders who stand before you. That will cleanse you of the taint of singing for the Greeks.”
“A fair price, and may the good Lord bless thee for it,” I said.
“Tempests will toss me, and the Fates change the tide.
And pirates and cannibals are along for the ride.
So drive back the invaders,
And hang high the raiders,
But if you call them Crusaders, then God's on their side.”
“Not the most pleasing sentiment, but close enough,” he said. “Pass, Fool.”
I saluted them, and staggered on. When I was safely beyond them, I fished my dagger out of the wineskin and slid it into my sleeve.
A low whistle came from a tent as I passed through the camp. The flap opened, and I saw Tantalo beckoning to me. I ducked under.
My colleagues were all there. Giraut had a bandage wrapped around
his head, and Gaucelm's left arm was in a sling. They looked grimy and pale in the flickering light of the single candle in the center of the tent.
“Well, you've been busy today,” I observed.
“Shut up, Theo. We're not in the mood for banter,” said Raimbaut. “What do you want?”
“I carry a proposal,” I said. “A possible solution.”
“You had one the other day,” said Giraut. “It didn't work.”
“This one might. It has the benefit of stopping Alexios's claim to the throne while allowing the Crusaders to be faithful to their oaths.”
“Let's hear it,” said Tantalo.
“The boy's claim is through Isaakios. The Crusaders are here to overthrow the Emperor in support of that claim.”
“And to gain as much loot, territory, and trading concessions as they can from this mission of mercy,” said Tantalo.
“What if Isaakios was restored to the throne?” I asked.
“What if pigs fly?” scoffed Raimbaut. “That's not going to happen.”
“But what if it does?” I persisted.
They glanced at each other.
“What are you talking about?” asked Giraut quietly. “An assassination?”
“That would just enrage the Greeks,” said Gaucelm. “They wouldn't go along with Isaakios just because the Emperor's dead.”
“I'm not talking about an assassination,” I said. “I'm talking about the legitimate restoration of Isaakios with the support of the city.”
“You're talking nonsense,” said Raimbaut. “You have no way of arranging that.”
“But if I did?”
“Then Alexios would defer to his father,” he said impatiently. “Now, let's leave the dreamworld, shall we, Theo?”
“What is the matter with all of you?” I asked.
“Theo, we appreciate all the efforts you've made,” said Raimbaut. “But this war cannot be stopped.”
“You've given up,” I said.
“We tried everything we could, Theo,” said Tantalo dejectedly. “And we failed. That happens sometimes.”
“But then you try something else,” I said.
“Theo, I don't think that you thought this through entirely,” said Raimbaut. “Let's look at the situation. What is your goal?”
“To bring about peace,” I replied.
“Laudable,” he said. “And if that isn't possible, what then?”
“To resolve this conflict with the least possible amount of bloodshed,” I said, chafing a bit under his interrogation.
“Admirable,” he said. “And if that isn't possible, what then?”
I was silent. The expressions ranged from defeat on the faces of Giraut and Gaucelm to pity on Tantalo to triumph on Raimbaut.
“What then, Theo?” repeated Raimbaut. “You never took the next step: assuming there will be a full-scale war, who shall be the victor?”
“The Guild—” I began.
“The Guild said nothing about that!” he shouted furiously. The others tried to hush him, but he ignored them and continued. “Consider the situation of four poor troubadours, stranded with an outnumbered army, starving and desperate. Troubadours don't just sit and watch battles from a safe distance like jesters. We're soldiers. Remember the story of Taillefer, who marched into the Battle of Hastings while juggling swords and singing heroic lays? That is our fate. We either win or we die. Given that particular range of choices, forgive me, Theo, for wanting to win.”
“And if you win, the Crusaders take the traditional three days of rape, slaughter, and pillage,” I said. “Does your fate encompass that pleasurable prospect as well?”
“Of course not,” he said. “But, God willing—”
“How dare you invoke His name on behalf of this infernal enterprise,” I said coldly. “You've forgotten why we're here, Raimbaut. You're despicable. You've been with these avaricious idiots so long that you've become one of them.”
“Easy, Theo,” cautioned Tantalo.
“Do you go along with this decision?” I said, turning to him. “You're the one in charge.”
“We took a vote,” said Gaucelm weakly.
“A vote?” I said derisively. “Was it unanimous? Three to one? Do the four of us in the city get to vote, too? Wait, I forgot. You can't raise your hand when you're dead.”
“It was unanimous, Theo,” said Tantalo. “If there was any other way—”
“I've brought you another.”
“But you can't do it,” he protested.
“Perhaps not,” I said. “But I am going to try, anyway. At least, I'll die knowing that I'm no traitor.”
Raimbaut drew his sword.
“No one calls me that,” he said.
“Tell him, Tantalo,” I said quietly.
“Put up your sword, Raimbaut,” urged Tantalo.
“For what? A fool? Doesn't he know who I am?”
“I know who you are,” said Tantalo. “I know what you can do. But I know Theo, and you don't. If you take him on, you're dead. If all four of us took him on together, it would be the same.”
Raimbaut looked at him in disbelief.
“And I, for one, will not be joining this particular fray,” added Tantalo.
“Will you all stop this ridiculous posturing?” said Giraut wearily. “My head hurts enough.”
“Put up your sword, Raimbaut,” said Gaucelm. “There's enough blood to spill without adding that of a fool.”
Raimbaut rammed his sword back into its scabbard, then stormed out of the tent.
“I'll leave you two to rest up,” said Tantalo. “Theo, come with me.”
We walked quietly through the camp. Around us, fires were dying down, and soldiers were grabbing what sleep they could. Of those who could not, some prayed, some paced, and some stared motionless to the east, waiting for the first glimmering of sunlight.
“How were you planning to get back?” he asked.
“I was going to head upstream to the next crossing,” I said.
BOOK: A Death in the Venetian Quarter
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