Chapter 366 - 259: Gets Nothing
Mikhail found Eric scanning the books on the shelves.
"Interested in these books? Constantinople has eighty public libraries and thirty Monastery libraries. Every learned and wise Emperor the Empire has had has sent envoys across the world to collect books—the works of the greatest scholars.
These envoys scoured the libraries and book markets of Baghdad, Samarkand, Damascus, Tashkent, Bukhara, Cairo, and Alexander, searching for books. Any books that could not be bought, he ordered copied. Emperor Constantine VII once paid the hefty price of One Thousand Gold Coins to have a single Arabian manuscript translated," Mikhail said with a smile.
"I had thought only Heretics and Western Christians were enthusiastic about such things. The Greeks have always been uncommonly confident in their own scholarship," Eric quipped.
"Wise men are always thirsty for knowledge. Only fools stand still, for the wellspring of learning is endless. Reason is a tool granted by God; even Heretics can glimpse the wisdom of God through it," Mikhail said, shaking his head.
As he spoke, he clapped his hands. A servant entered with a tray bearing two steaming cups, which evidently held some sort of drink.
Mikhail picked up the two cups and handed one to Eric.
"This is something I recently obtained from the Saracens. It is a drink they call *qahwa*.
When *qahwa* first became known, it was pressed into cakes and sold as a delicacy. Only later was it made into a drink. They say it stimulates the mind and aids contemplation.
Therefore, their philosophers are quite fond of drinking *qahwa* while they ponder. The Heretic men of letters elegantly call it the nectar of wisdom, a sweet yet bitter sap extracted from the vines of thought and the tree of human experience," Mikhail explained to Eric.
Eric looked at the cup in his hand. The brown liquid inside was unlike the coffee of later eras. Coffee beans floated on the surface, along with a few unidentifiable leaves—probably coffee leaves.
’Evidently, their method of preparation is just to throw the coffee beans and leaves together and boil them directly in water. It would be more fitting to call it some kind of soup than coffee.’
Eric took a small sip. The flavor was a little odd, but it seemed they had also added sugar. The sweetness made the strange coffee-like drink a bit more palatable.
"Perhaps next time you could try grinding the *qahwa* fruit into a powder and brewing it with hot water. The flavor would be much better," Eric suggested, politely refraining from showing his distaste.
"I will have to try that." Mikhail nodded. "Right, I’ve told you my name, but you have yet to tell me yours."
"I am Eric, an Earl Norman from England. You can call me Gloucester." Eric chose not to hide his identity; there was no need to.
"Oh, I’ve heard of you. The Norman of the Outville family who married the Marchioness of Tuscany. You’re quite bold, to be so open at a time like this. The Normans of Apulia have caused the Empire a great deal of trouble.
He seized all the Empire’s lands in Italy, completely driving us from the cradle of our civilization. Most people here loathe the Normans of Apulia. That greedy Giscard, such a troublemaker," Mikhail said with a smile.
"You are just as open about Alexios, are you not? There is no reason a Norman should be more timid than a Greek."
"That compliment is rather grating. But I am different. Here in Constantinople, I represent wisdom. If Alexios wishes to be a competent Emperor, he cannot afford to reject wisdom—at least, not publicly."
Mikhail’s words were arrogant, but he had the right to be.
"Perhaps he could resort to some plotting and scheming. It is the tradition in Constantinople, after all," Eric teased.
"A grumpy, hostile old man in a Monastery is far more agreeable than those sharks in the army who’d devour a man, bones and all. The army is giving him more than enough headaches.
He has no time to deal with a little old bookworm like me. Are you aware of Russel de Bayle? Your fellow Norman. Cunning on par with Giscard, a faithless man who rebels at the first opportunity, loyal to no one but himself. Yet the Empire, short on troops and commanders, can’t afford to get rid of him.
Alexios gains more by watching him than by watching me." Mikhail raised his cup to Eric with a smile. "On that note, I’ve also heard some interesting news you might want to know. It wasn’t particularly interesting on its own, but given who you’ve revealed yourself to be, I can’t imagine anything that would concern you more.
The Empire’s campaign in Epirus has ended. The war with the Normans is over."
"Over?" Eric was surprised by this news.
As he had journeyed north from Athens, he had heard no news of the Normans suffering setbacks in Epirus. On the contrary, everyone was lamenting the Empire’s misfortune and the Normans’ unstoppable advance.
"Yes. This is information I’ve just received; Alexios is keeping it under wraps. He plans to hold a triumph at the beginning of next month to surprise and awe the citizens of Constantinople, proving to them that he is a competent Emperor in every respect.
Beyond the element of surprise, the more important reason for suppressing the news is to give his court sycophants enough time to weave a polished, plausible, and flawless heroic epic. An epic in which he, like the Messiah spoken of in the Bible, descends from heaven to save the Empire with ease.
This is so that everyone will believe he has been blessed by God, that this recent victory was no accident but an inevitability, because he is God’s chosen one," Mikhail said, his voice laced with resentment.
"He’s bought off the Normans again, hasn’t he? This isn’t the end of the war, just a truce," Eric surmised.
"I wish that were the case, but this is indeed the end of the war, not a truce. You were right about one thing, though.
He did indeed buy off some Normans, but not Giscard himself. Rather, he bribed the men under Giscard’s command.
Simultaneously, he funded Greek rebels in Apulia, forcing Giscard to return and suppress the revolt. Soon after Giscard’s departure, the Norman Army he left behind fell into dire straits. They couldn’t acclimate to the environment and suffered from food poisoning, causing their discipline to collapse. A portion of the land was then reclaimed through a few insignificant battles.
This made them receptive to Alexios’s bribes, and eventually, he forced them to the negotiating table."
"I recall the Normans from Apulia occupying most of Epirus and Macedonia, even nearing Thessaloniki. They couldn’t have abandoned all of it so quickly."
Thanks to Eric, Giscard no longer had to concern himself with the Holy Roman Emperor, allowing him to press his attack against the Byzantine Empire with considerable ferocity.
"Correct. At the time of the negotiations, your father still held considerable territory within the Empire: a quarter of Albania, a third of Epirus, and a small part of Macedonia. However, Alexios had his own agenda.
Even I must admit, Alexios’s methods show the flair of a brilliant diplomat.
With envoys from the Holy See as witnesses, Alexios offered to let the Normans keep these lands, on the condition that they become vassals of the Empire and swear fealty to him personally.
He demanded that a quarter of Albania be given to your cousin, Abelard Outville, the son of your late half-uncle Hanflei Outeville, the Count of Ravello. That same cousin, disgruntled because your father usurped the county that should have been his, recently ran off to Constantinople to seek Alexios’s help.
As for Norman-occupied Epirus, half was to go to your uncle, William Outville—who is disgruntled with your father, Giscard—while the remainder of Epirus and all of Macedonia would be granted to your brother, Roger Borsa.
These Norman Lords within the Empire would be required to provide Knights to the Emperor in times of war, according to their Frankish feudal obligations.
In return, Alexios guaranteed he would restore the income from the imperial title that was bestowed upon Giscard during the reign of Emperor Michael."
"And Bohemond? He gets nothing?" Eric asked, surprised.
’Perhaps my loathsome stepmother played some subtle part in all this.’
"Correct. He gets nothing. He’s too dangerous."