The wheels creaked softly as the wagon rolled along the well-worn road to Kalavryta. The late autumn sun cast a warm glow over the rolling hills and scattered olive groves of the Morean countryside. Constantine sat inside the closed wagon he had had built for the road. He had drawn it from what he remembered of the wagons of the American frontier, and it had cushioned benches and a small window on each side.
Opposite him sat George Sphrantzes, his confidant. Captain Andreas rode alongside the wagon on horseback. He preferred the freedom and readiness that came with riding, a sentiment Constantine respected but did not share.
The wagon took a rough patch of road and George put his hand flat on the wall beside him. "It does not throw a man about as I expected, Despot. Is this another of your own devices?"
"There are leather straps under the box," Constantine said. "I saw it on a Venetian wagon some years ago."
The second wagon followed a length behind with the Pyrvelos marksmen shut inside it, behind a panel in the wall that slid open.
Captain Andreas rode up alongside them, his expression alert. "The men are in good spirits, Despot. They appreciate the chance to stretch their legs during the stops."
"Good to hear," Constantine said. "Contented men make for a smoother journey."
"And should misfortune cross our path," Captain Andreas said with a knowing smile, "any foes will discover they have underestimated us."
The group continued onward, the mood lightening as they discussed the upcoming festivities. "It is good to see Thomas settling down," George said. "The marriage with Catherine will strengthen our position in the Morea."
"It is a step forward for all of us," Constantine said.
As they approached Kalavryta, the distant sounds of music and laughter reached their ears from a town alive with celebration. Banners bearing the imperial emblem fluttered in the breeze, the streets were adorned with garlands of flowers, and villagers and nobles alike had gathered to partake in the festivities.
The convoy was greeted with fanfare as they entered the town. Servants guided them to accommodations prepared for esteemed guests. That evening, the grand hall of the fortress was aglow with candlelight. Tables laden with an array of dishes stretched across the room, and the rich aroma of roasted meats and spiced wine filled the air.
Constantine stood among the guests, dressed in finely woven garments befitting his station. He approached Thomas, who was resplendent in ceremonial attire, a broad smile upon his face.
"Brother!" Thomas said, embracing Constantine. "You've made it!"
"I would not miss it for the world," Constantine said, returning the embrace. "Congratulations on your union. May it bring prosperity and happiness."
Thomas's smile softened. "Thank you, Constantine. It's a joy to have you here. I only wish Theodore could have joined us."
Constantine nodded. "Yes, his absence is felt."
Thomas sighed. "It's unfortunate, but perhaps we can all be together another time."
"Let us hope so," Constantine said.
Thomas gestured to his bride, Catherine, who stood beside him. "Allow me to present Catherine."
Constantine bowed. "It is an honor to welcome you to our family, Catherine. May your days be filled with joy."
"Thank you, Despot Constantine," she said. "I have heard much about you."
"All good things, I hope," he said with a smile.
"I have brought a gift to commemorate this occasion," Constantine said, signaling to a servant, who presented an ornately bound Greek Bible. The cover was embossed with gold leaf, and the pages were edged with intricate designs.
Thomas's eyes widened. "This is magnificent! Your reputation for fine books does not do it justice."
"It is a symbol of our heritage and faith," Constantine said. "May it guide you both in the years ahead."
Catherine smiled. "We are deeply touched by your generosity."
As the evening progressed, music filled the hall, and guests took to dancing. Yet the celebration, though grand, paled in comparison to the opulence of past imperial festivities, and Constantine could not stop noticing it. It was a quiet reminder of the empire's waning glory.
Later, in a more secluded chamber, Constantine and Thomas sat together with goblets of wine in hand, while George and one of Thomas's advisors, a stern man named Andronikos, stood nearby, engaged in their own conversation.
"To your health," Thomas said, raising his goblet.
"And to yours," Constantine said, clinking their cups.
Thomas leaned back. "I must say, it stings that Theodore didn't deem it important enough to attend my wedding."
Constantine nodded. "Did he offer any explanation?"
Thomas sighed, swirling the wine in his goblet. "A letter arrived claiming urgent matters kept him in Mystras. But I can't help feeling it's more about his stubbornness regarding recent developments, like your Latin Bibles."
"He has been quite vocal against them," Constantine said. "His stance on the unification efforts is well known."
Thomas shook his head. "It's disappointing. At a time when our family should stand united, he lets old grievances and rigid views keep us apart."
"Perhaps in time he will come around," Constantine said. "The pressures we face might eventually make him see reason."
Thomas managed a thin smile. "One can hope. Speaking of which, I've been meaning to visit Glarentza. Your achievements there have piqued my curiosity. The Bibles you've produced are the talk of the Morea."
"Word travels swiftly," Constantine said with a smile. "The venture has been fruitful."
"I must thank you again for the Bible," Thomas said, admiring the ornate cover. "It's truly exceptional. But I admit, I'm intrigued. How did you come upon the idea of this... printing press? It's quite unlike you."
Constantine shrugged. "I have spent many days poring over old manuscripts, studying the works of scholars and inventors. Inspiration can strike from the most unexpected passages in ancient texts."
Thomas raised an eyebrow. "So you dig into the wisdom of the past to forge our future?"
"Something like that," Constantine said. "Our ancestors had insights that we can build upon if we are willing to seek them out."
"Well, it's impressive," Thomas said. "And do you truly believe these Latin Bibles will aid our brother the Emperor in his efforts to unite the churches?"
"I do," Constantine said. "By making the scriptures accessible in Latin, we may bridge the divide between East and West. It could strengthen our alliances, which we sorely need against the Ottoman threat."
Thomas took a sip of his wine. "I agree. Whatever helps us repel the Ottomans is worthwhile in my eyes. However, some priests have been declaring it heresy. It's a delicate matter."
"Change often meets resistance," Constantine said. "But the greater good must prevail."
Thomas leaned forward. "I am eager to see Glarentza for myself. The stories I've heard make it sound like a place reborn."
"You are welcome anytime," Constantine said. "I would be glad to show you the printing presses, the workshops, everything. There is much we are working on that could benefit all of us."
"Then I shall make plans to visit soon," Thomas said. "It's time I saw these marvels firsthand."
"Speaking of which," Thomas went on, "I've also heard tales of your cannons. Impressive weapons, they say."
Constantine exchanged a brief glance with George. "We have made some advances, yes. Defensive measures are necessary in these uncertain times."
"Which brings me to a matter of importance: the Hexamilion Wall," Thomas said. "Its state is... less than ideal."
Constantine sighed. "I have been meaning to discuss that. The wall suffered greatly during Turahan Bey's invasion seven years ago. It needs significant repairs."
Thomas gestured to Andronikos. "We've assessed the situation. Restoring the wall will require substantial funds and manpower, thousands of gold ducats."
"I am prepared to cover the majority of the costs," Constantine said. "We cannot afford to leave it vulnerable. I can also provide cannons to strengthen its defenses."
Thomas's eyes lit up. "That would be most welcome. With your support, we can begin major repairs early next year."
"Time is of the essence," George said. "The Ottomans will not remain idle forever."
Thomas raised his goblet again. "To our shared efforts, then. United, we can secure the Morea against any threat."
They drank to the agreement.
"I must admit," Thomas said, setting down his goblet, "I was hoping you could spare a few cannons for my own fortifications."
Constantine smiled. "The work is slow, I am afraid, brother. Each one requires careful crafting. The Hexamilion Wall must be equipped first. Once that is secured, we can discuss what more I can spare."
"Of course," Thomas said. "I look forward to that."
As the night wore on, the brothers shared stories and memories.
The journey back to Glarentza began under clear skies, and the convoy moved at a steady pace, the two wagons flanked by ten cavalrymen and Andreas riding at the front. The landscape shifted from open fields to dense forests as they followed the winding road.
Inside the wagon, Constantine and George discussed plans for the coming months. "Securing the Hexamilion Wall is a significant step," George said. "It will send a strong message."
"We must remain cautious," Constantine said. "Not everyone shares our vision."
The forest enveloped the road, towering oaks casting dappled shadows that danced with the sway of the branches. The chirping of birds had faded, replaced by silence.
Constantine peered through the small window. "It is unusually quiet," he said.
George glanced up from his papers. "Perhaps the wildlife senses a storm."
Andreas rode ahead. The horses grew restless, snorting and flicking their ears, and from somewhere in the trees came a distant rustle, a snapped twig, the faint crunch of leaves.
Without warning, a shrill whistle cut through the air. "Ambush!" Andreas shouted, drawing his sword.
Arrows rained down, thudding into the wagon and the ground. The cries of men and horses erupted as twenty horsemen burst from the underbrush, their blades gleaming.
"Get down!" George shouted, pulling Constantine away from the window.
The panel in the side of the second wagon slid open and the Pyrvelos marksmen took position.
"Fire!" one of them shouted.
The marksmen unleashed a volley, the thunderous cracks of their weapons startling the attackers. A couple of horsemen fell, their mounts rearing in panic.
Andreas rallied the cavalrymen. "Hold the line! Protect the Despot!"
The attackers hesitated, unprepared for such resistance, and the marksmen reloaded swiftly and fired another volley that thinned their ranks further. The cracks of the Pyrvelos echoed through the trees, and the attackers' horses, unaccustomed to the sound, reared and bolted in panic. Riders struggled to control their mounts and some were thrown to the ground, and in the confusion the assailants were left vulnerable.
Constantine peered through a slit in the wagon. He could see Andreas trading blows with one of the attackers.
"We need to support them," Constantine said.
George shook his head. "Our best advantage is to stay protected. The marksmen have it in hand."
Within minutes the battle was over. The attackers, realizing their disadvantage, began to retreat, and when a few of them tried to flee the cavalrymen pursued and captured one.
As the dust settled, Andreas approached the wagon with a slight cut above his brow bleeding. "Despot, are you unharmed?"
"We are fine," Constantine said. "Excellent work, Captain."
"Your preparations made the difference," Andreas said.
"What are our losses?" George asked.
"Two of our men killed, three wounded," Andreas said. "We captured one of the attackers alive. The rest are either dead or escaped."
"Bring the prisoner here," Constantine said.
A bruised and disheveled man was dragged forward, his hands bound. He avoided meeting Constantine's gaze.
"Who sent you?" Constantine asked.
The man spat on the ground. "We're just bandits. Saw an opportunity."
Andreas stepped closer, scrutinizing the prisoner's face. "I know you," he said. "You fought at the Battle of the Echinades. You served under Despot Theodore."
The prisoner's eyes widened, then narrowed. "You must be mistaken."
"No," Andreas said. "I would never forget a face."
Constantine's expression hardened. "So this was no chance attack."
The prisoner remained silent.
"Take him away," Constantine said. "We will deal with him later."
As the guards led the prisoner off, Constantine turned to George and Andreas. "This has gone too far."
George nodded. "An attack on your life cannot be ignored."
"We cannot wait for the Emperor's supposed arrival next year," Constantine said. "Theodore has crossed a line. We must address this ourselves, no matter the cost."
Andreas placed a hand on his sword's hilt. "What are your orders, Despot?"
"Strengthen the guard at once," Constantine said. "No more travel without a full escort. And begin preparations. Come spring, we may have to confront Theodore directly."
George met his gaze. "Are you certain? Such actions will lead to war."
"I am aware," Constantine said. "But if we do not act, he will continue to undermine everything we have worked for."
Andreas bowed his head. "We stand ready to serve."
Constantine nodded. "For now, let us focus on returning home safely. We have much to prepare."
That night, back in the familiar surroundings of Clermont Castle, Constantine convened an urgent meeting with his most trusted advisors. The ambush had accelerated the need for decisive action.
Theodore's hostility could not be ignored any longer, Constantine told them, but for now it would be kept quiet. They would strengthen their forces and prepare in silence, and when spring arrived they would confront him directly with the new army.
Theophilus Dragas, who had been informed of the events, frowned. "An attack on your life is a grave matter, Despot. Are you certain we should not respond immediately?"
They could not afford open conflict yet, Constantine said. If they moved too hastily they risked fracturing their strength, and they needed time to consolidate their forces. Andreas said the men were loyal and well-trained but would have to be fully prepared for any engagement, and Constantine's orders to him were to double the training, recruit more men discreetly, and increase the patrols around key locations without drawing unnecessary attention.
George exchanged a glance with Theophilus. "And the Emperor, Despot? If we move against Theodore before he comes, we are at odds with him."
Constantine's gaze hardened. "Even if my brother John disapproves, Theodore must be stopped. His actions endanger everything we have built. When the time comes, we will deal with any repercussions."
The room fell silent.
George placed a fist over his heart. "We stand with you, Despot. Whatever comes, we are ready."
Winter was coming fast, Constantine said, and for now their work was preparation. Come spring, Theodore would face the consequences of his choices.
As the meeting adjourned, Constantine lingered by the window, gazing out at the moonlit courtyard. The shadows seemed deeper tonight.
"Brother against brother," he whispered.
He clenched his jaw. "I don't answer to John," he murmured. "I don't answer to anyone."