A/N: Good news! This is one of 3 posts that will finish the war! I didn't mean to get bogged down as much as I have and apologize, things will move a bit more quickly after it's over cuz after that, it's back to Spain we go.
"Husband," she said quietly as she finished her prayers and rose from the mat in their bedroom. A nice mat, high quality carpet another sign that while she was pious she was not insensible to worldy advantages. "Thank you for waiting. I am prepared to speak with you now."
"Then relax," he said settling into a chair while she took one of the couches stretching out her sleek body in a way that was calculated to distract him. It would have worked better had he not been expecting it. "You spent much time with Marozia before she fled, almost the only one as she was prohibited from regular contact with anyone," he said at last. He'd thought about how to approach it but had in the end decided on a direct approach. "Why did she feel the need to go to the Armenians?"
Theophano thought for a moment, but then said nothing.
"Dammit woman, you are my wife. It's you neck on the line too, answer me." They locked eyes and Alexander say a little of the same spirit that animated the old empress for perhaps the first time in a year of marriage. His hand clenched and she noticed that.
"You set me to befriend her and defang her but I did neither," she said a little breathlessly, for his hand was strong. "Is it any wonder I hesitate?"
"Say your say," Alexander replied. "Forcing the information out of you would be the fastest way to poison it and we need answers. Now. Why did she go to Musel Amatuni?"
"Marozia saw herself being cut out. My aunt** named your father ceaser and then the war against the Caliphate ending well enough for him. Returning to the City as a defenderof the faith if not a victor. The succession clearly focus on you, our marriage."
"That can't be all."
"Why not? Do you think Marozia concerns herself with the iconography debate that my aunt engages whenever she can get the chance? If anything she is of a mind with her on that. But the Anatolians are not and we have had Armenian emperors before."
Alexander chewed on that for a while. "You are likely to be right. And our powerbase is in the west. It will be a slog in Anatolia again."
"The choice is not a good one," Theophano volunteered. "Sicily and Italy, or Anatolia? A loss of prestige or territory."
"Um, well put," he said eyeing her. "You know I'll go on campaign soon to face that and earn my way to the throne."
"I do," she said. And then she rose and took a parchment from one of the trays on the table. "I prepared this for you."
He looked at it, it appeared to be a list of monasteries in Anatolia.
"What is the meaning of this?" he asked contemptuously.
"I studied my aunt," Theophano said. "And I studied you. There was a reason I agreed to be taken from my betrothed and enter the bride show. Information is the key husband. These are monasteries that are sympathetic to our side in the iconography debate and more than that, preparing reports on the situation in their areas to give to you."
"A spy network?" he was stunned. "You created a spy network?"
"I merely used the resources at hand," she smiled with very white teeth.
"But why...?"
"As you said husband, it's my neck too."
For the first time since their marriage he felt in accord with his wife.
_____________________________________
*More like a long cavalry spear than a lance
**General term, Irene is more like her great aunt
SOMEWHERE NORTH EAST OF DIJON, 810 AD
Alexander the Bulgar studied his wife. Theophano was praying as she was wont to do in the mornings but thankfully she did limit her piety and could do without it--something she shared with the senior Empress. Though perhaps fortunately for him Theophano did not have the ruthlessness that had propelled the empress to her throne. Still as that ambition had placed him where he was today he did not complain. He was not quite sure how Theophano was related to Irene but that she'd agreed to break off her wedding to marry him she had an eye for the main chance. Combined with her obvious attractiveness (though cute rather than beautiful owing to her small nose) meant that he had to get her on his side. She both served devotedly and loathed the empress and still remained a cipher to him except perhaps for flashes of contempt for his slavic heritage.ALDRIC scanned the landscape in front of him, keeping a tight hold on his reins. Nothing, the only sound was of the mail mesh hanging from his leather cap brushing over this hauberk. Even now he smiled a little when he thought about it: mail with scales, he'd come up in the world.
"Keep moving!" he said waving his lance* and advancing his horse at a trot. On either side of him a score of riders did the same, and behind them came the footmen and archers. "They are out of allies! It's time to take revenge on these rebel scum!"
The raids in the west had gone well, and he'd distinguished himself several times. In addition to being able to make a name for himself as a lord who always had some largess to divide among his men, he'd come to the notice of the king and so here he was in the east as part of the grand counter-attack so carefully planned. With the latest rebels thrusts into Spania beaten back at what they were calling the Second Battle of Albaraccin and with their Lombard allies now fully embroiled with the Greeks and Arabs, the rebels were once again back on their heels and the counter-attack had been more successful than anticipated and so Aldric had been sent south.
"Terrorize them," the Duke of Brittany had said to them, "Make yourself a thorn in their side."
Now, a score of burned out village later, Aldric spotted another. It was a smallish place, twenty houses if that. But he had a job to do. Giving the required orders he saw the torches get passed around and a handful of fires blossomed in the the thatch roofs. As the fires began to spread people began to leave the houses where they'd tried to take refuge instead of flee. The few men were felled almost immediately but the woman were seized by his men and dragged away. Aldric was a bit surprised that none of them tried to have their fun right there but the flames were probably too risky for that. With those men who remained he advanced on the small church. Breaking the doors down he had the priest brought to him while the rest of his men searched through it for any hidden valuables or men.
The priest was not happy, cursing him but Aldric let it roll off him. When the old man had run down he merely said, "You won't be harmed, nor will the scriptures, nor any other helpers you may have but you will be taken north to await judgment by your peers."
"And this house of God?"
"It is a sin to support rebellion, you should have fled. As this village no longer exists there's no longer any need for it."
As he ordered his men to drag the shocked priest away he himself took up the torch to set fire to the wooden benches. A small part of him twinged at burning a church to the ground when it was not a refuge of armed men but he had been ordered to wreak havoc and so he would. It was only fortunate that Pope John was dead and there was no successor to lower an interdict on the Franks.
"Keep moving!" he said waving his lance* and advancing his horse at a trot. On either side of him a score of riders did the same, and behind them came the footmen and archers. "They are out of allies! It's time to take revenge on these rebel scum!"
The raids in the west had gone well, and he'd distinguished himself several times. In addition to being able to make a name for himself as a lord who always had some largess to divide among his men, he'd come to the notice of the king and so here he was in the east as part of the grand counter-attack so carefully planned. With the latest rebels thrusts into Spania beaten back at what they were calling the Second Battle of Albaraccin and with their Lombard allies now fully embroiled with the Greeks and Arabs, the rebels were once again back on their heels and the counter-attack had been more successful than anticipated and so Aldric had been sent south.
"Terrorize them," the Duke of Brittany had said to them, "Make yourself a thorn in their side."
Now, a score of burned out village later, Aldric spotted another. It was a smallish place, twenty houses if that. But he had a job to do. Giving the required orders he saw the torches get passed around and a handful of fires blossomed in the the thatch roofs. As the fires began to spread people began to leave the houses where they'd tried to take refuge instead of flee. The few men were felled almost immediately but the woman were seized by his men and dragged away. Aldric was a bit surprised that none of them tried to have their fun right there but the flames were probably too risky for that. With those men who remained he advanced on the small church. Breaking the doors down he had the priest brought to him while the rest of his men searched through it for any hidden valuables or men.
The priest was not happy, cursing him but Aldric let it roll off him. When the old man had run down he merely said, "You won't be harmed, nor will the scriptures, nor any other helpers you may have but you will be taken north to await judgment by your peers."
"And this house of God?"
"It is a sin to support rebellion, you should have fled. As this village no longer exists there's no longer any need for it."
As he ordered his men to drag the shocked priest away he himself took up the torch to set fire to the wooden benches. A small part of him twinged at burning a church to the ground when it was not a refuge of armed men but he had been ordered to wreak havoc and so he would. It was only fortunate that Pope John was dead and there was no successor to lower an interdict on the Franks.
GREAT PALACE, CONSTANTINOPLE, 810 AD
"Husband," she said quietly as she finished her prayers and rose from the mat in their bedroom. A nice mat, high quality carpet another sign that while she was pious she was not insensible to worldy advantages. "Thank you for waiting. I am prepared to speak with you now."
"Then relax," he said settling into a chair while she took one of the couches stretching out her sleek body in a way that was calculated to distract him. It would have worked better had he not been expecting it. "You spent much time with Marozia before she fled, almost the only one as she was prohibited from regular contact with anyone," he said at last. He'd thought about how to approach it but had in the end decided on a direct approach. "Why did she feel the need to go to the Armenians?"
Theophano thought for a moment, but then said nothing.
"Dammit woman, you are my wife. It's you neck on the line too, answer me." They locked eyes and Alexander say a little of the same spirit that animated the old empress for perhaps the first time in a year of marriage. His hand clenched and she noticed that.
"You set me to befriend her and defang her but I did neither," she said a little breathlessly, for his hand was strong. "Is it any wonder I hesitate?"
"Say your say," Alexander replied. "Forcing the information out of you would be the fastest way to poison it and we need answers. Now. Why did she go to Musel Amatuni?"
"Marozia saw herself being cut out. My aunt** named your father ceaser and then the war against the Caliphate ending well enough for him. Returning to the City as a defenderof the faith if not a victor. The succession clearly focus on you, our marriage."
"That can't be all."
"Why not? Do you think Marozia concerns herself with the iconography debate that my aunt engages whenever she can get the chance? If anything she is of a mind with her on that. But the Anatolians are not and we have had Armenian emperors before."
Alexander chewed on that for a while. "You are likely to be right. And our powerbase is in the west. It will be a slog in Anatolia again."
"The choice is not a good one," Theophano volunteered. "Sicily and Italy, or Anatolia? A loss of prestige or territory."
"Um, well put," he said eyeing her. "You know I'll go on campaign soon to face that and earn my way to the throne."
"I do," she said. And then she rose and took a parchment from one of the trays on the table. "I prepared this for you."
He looked at it, it appeared to be a list of monasteries in Anatolia.
"What is the meaning of this?" he asked contemptuously.
"I studied my aunt," Theophano said. "And I studied you. There was a reason I agreed to be taken from my betrothed and enter the bride show. Information is the key husband. These are monasteries that are sympathetic to our side in the iconography debate and more than that, preparing reports on the situation in their areas to give to you."
"A spy network?" he was stunned. "You created a spy network?"
"I merely used the resources at hand," she smiled with very white teeth.
"But why...?"
"As you said husband, it's my neck too."
For the first time since their marriage he felt in accord with his wife.
_____________________________________
*More like a long cavalry spear than a lance
**General term, Irene is more like her great aunt