Act VIII: The Mother Goddess and the Queen (Part Two)
two
When a longsword is held in the hand, it grants the wielder power. Yakov thought that power meant not only force and authority, but also freedom and peace, security and happiness. This was the meaning of power, he thought, therefore one must never become complacent with power and cut off one's own path to survival.
The ruby-inlaid longsword twirled nimbly in his rough palm, rolling to the back of his hand and back again, swaying like a windmill. That wasn't enough, Yakov thought, frowning. He needed to practice something more difficult and powerful. He changed his starting stance several times, switching from a forehand to a backhand, and from his right hand to his left. These flashy and dazzling techniques didn't diminish his power—in the courtyard, the dummy made of flower vines was cleaved to pieces by the blade, petals raining down into the nearby fountain.
“Amazing, like fighting with a shadow.” Yubi lay on his side on a spa therapist’s lap, watching the blood slave’s movements. A thin, hollow scented candle was plugged into his ear, emitting wisps of white smoke. “I’m an amateur, I don’t understand any of this. What do you think, Seyleman?”
“Those are indeed good techniques.” Seilerman smiled, but his assessment was not polite. “But they are not suitable for Yakov, nor for this sword.”
"Why?" Yubi couldn't help but look up curiously, but was stopped by the spa therapist. "You can't move around," she gently advised, "you'll get burned."
"I'm so sorry..." Yubi's chin was lifted and placed back in its original position.
“He uses Tatar and Turkic techniques.” Seleman shifted his feet, considerately moving from behind the bench to the front. “First, nomadic peoples are good at maneuvering and prefer agile fighting styles. Koyakov’s advantage is not in agility, but in strength.” He deliberately spoke in Greek to avoid being understood by the hot-tempered Slav. “Second, he is tall, so he uses the sword with one hand. This means he always has one hand free, which is a waste. If he carried a shield, it could fill the gap, but he clearly only knows how to attack and doesn’t care about defense. I guess he must dislike shields very much.”
“So many intricacies…” Yubi wanted to tilt his head back again, but this time he held back. The therapist twisted the candle out of his ear and then took a cotton swab soaked in laurel oil, carefully wiping his ear canal. It felt itchy, giving him goosebumps all over. “Eftalia, what do you think?” Yubi asked, tensing up. “What do you think of Yakov’s swordsmanship?”
“Lord Jubius, I’m even less of an expert than you are,” the spa therapist replied with a smile, applying just the right amount of pressure with the cotton swab.
Upon hearing his name, Yubi's ear hairs stood on end uncomfortably, as if someone were blowing on him. He blushed and pursed his lips. "Just call me Yubi..." But he hadn't forgotten his earlier question, "I just want to hear what an outsider thinks. You're an outsider in swordsmanship, but you're an expert in spa treatments. You might have some unique insights."
“Since you want to hear, I won’t refuse.” Eftalia stopped what she was doing and tossed the used cotton swab into a delicate wicker basket. She switched to a soft dropper made from a pig bladder and poured soda vinegar into Yubi’s ear. “I’ve seen Latin knights practice swordsmanship, and I’ve seen Persians practice swordsmanship. I think the best among them are well aware of their limitations, choosing a weak move to practice hundreds or thousands of times.” She pressed her fingers against Yubi’s tragus, gently rotating his head to make the vinegar swirl in his ear canal. “But your slave, practicing swordsmanship with such inconsistent moves, is clearly restless. He’s either arrogant enough to think he has no weaknesses and doesn’t need training, or he’s confused and lost, stuck at a bottleneck, trying to find a way out.” Her voice suddenly paused, turning into an uncontrollable laugh, “There’s a third possibility.”
"What is it?" Yubi insisted on turning her head, ignoring the fact that the soda vinegar was about to spill from her ears onto her hair.
Eftalia, anticipating this, placed a handkerchief behind his ear, letting the vinegar drip onto the clean cloth. "Have you ever seen a peacock? When a peacock spreads its tail feathers, it's either a display or a courtship ritual," she whispered to Yubi. "He's probably like a male peacock, showing off in various ways to one of the three of us."
Yubi felt the vinegar slowly trickling from his earlobe, the stream of liquid becoming quite warm in his ear canal. He couldn't help but shiver and climbed off Ephtalia's lap. "I... I think I shouldn't do ear candling for a while," Yubi said apologetically. "The wax is too hot, and the oil makes me incredibly itchy. I don't really like it."
“Then I’ll let you try some new ones next time.” Ephtalia tidied up the scattered and exquisite utensils and baskets on the table and put them neatly into the box. “If you want to do some maintenance on your nails and hair, you can call me. Lord Jubius.”
Yubius was really uncomfortable with the name, and he couldn't help but purse his lips again, but this time he said nothing. In the courtyard, Yakov burst from the sunlight into the dark pavilion, bringing with him a sharp, pungent scent of flowers and leaves. "How slow," he said impatiently, sword in hand. "You should teach me Greek, Lord Yubius."
“That’s just a suffix. My name, when formally translated into Greek, should be like this!” Yubi angrily stopped him from teasing. “Just like your name, Kof is a suffix in Slavic languages!”
These words went straight to Yakov's ears. He sheathed his longsword and turned to head towards the study. "I'm going to punish you by making you copy books!" Yubi followed him out of the pavilion, poking him on the back. "I'm going to punish you by making you copy the alphabet fifty times, no, a hundred times! And you have to read each one aloud!"
How much paper would that waste? Yakov wondered. The two men raced after each other, arguing as they went. He walked along the colonnaded corridor, pushed open the door to the study, shrugged off the sulking Yubi, and headed for the writing board. But there were no paper, pens, or books there for their daily lessons. Yakov looked up and saw that the librarian wasn't there—it was Isaac in his purple robes, standing before the bookshelves with a balding, middle-aged official whom Yakov didn't recognize. The two men caught a glimpse of him entering with his sword, and their displeasure and reproach were written all over their faces.
Yubi stopped beside Yakov. Yakov's brows were furrowed tightly.
Isak stood ramrod straight. “This is Cicero Ikonom, a notary in charge of real estate,” he maintained the courtesy in his lifeless voice. “This is Jubius de Noctenias, the younger brother of his wife.”
“I am a notary and a philosopher, and I studied law at the University of Constantinople in my early years.” Cicero’s eyes crinkled into crescent moons as he met Yubi. He extended his hand to Yubi, who grasped it tightly, refusing to let go. “I have long heard of your wife’s beauty, Lord Kanakakis. Though I have not seen her in person, seeing your brother-in-law proves the rumors true.” He laughed so hard that the muscles in his cheeks bulged out. “Like the silver moon in the sea, your family must have noble blood that controls beauty.”
“Thank you, but actually, my sister and I don’t look very alike…” Yubi found the rhetoric strange and cheesy, and felt uncomfortable trying to pull her hand back—but that would be impolite. Fortunately, Yakov stepped forward, touching the hilt of his sword, which disarmed the “philosopher.” “What brings you here, Mr. Ikonom?” Yubi secretly wiped her fingers on the hem of her clothes. The man’s palms were sweaty and damp.
“I have been entrusted to look up some notarized documents for Lord Kanakakis,” Cicero said, his hands awkwardly clasped behind his back. “So that his and your rights can be realized better and faster.”
"What rights?" Yubi turned to look at Isaac with a puzzled expression. "Do I even know about this?"
Isaac looked away and continued searching among the thick legal texts piled high on the bookshelves. "Venetians are selling off their properties," he said. "It's time for you to move."
This happened suddenly to Yubi. After entertaining their guests at the chaise lounge restaurant, the group went to the Venetian concession under cover of night—going out after curfew was a privilege reserved for nobles. As long as Isaac and Yubi each wore their own gold heraldic rings, their accompanying officials, servants, and even porters and slaves had the right to roam the streets. They brought not only gold and silver coins, servants, and stewards, but also a large trunk filled with books and documents.
"So soon?" Yubi asked from horseback. "Why don't we go tomorrow morning?"
Isaac's body swayed with the horn, remaining silent, a look of annoyance seemingly on his face. Yubi, accustomed to his cold attitude, immediately turned to the accompanying notary and asked, "Do you know what's going on?"
“Your Excellency Jubius, I am merely a notary and know little,” Cicero said, wiping sweat from his brow with a handkerchief. “However, I have heard that there are indeed some Venetians eager to sell their properties recently…”
"why is that?"
“I don’t know either,” Cicero said awkwardly, falling silent.
Yubi felt he was the only one being kept in the dark and lowered his head in displeasure. They jingled as they walked through the quiet streets, into the concession, and headed towards the surging waves. Yubi noticed Isaac's horse stopped in front of a familiar house on the Golden Horn—he suddenly realized this was the very house with the hot spring pool in the main hall and the walls painted with Aphrodite and Cupid. The last time he saw this exquisite building, the owner had spat at him.
Yakov was already waiting by the stirrups for him to dismount. Yubi cautiously looked him in the eyes. "You don't mind?" he asked. "Isaac said it's very close to the Templar headquarters..."
“They can’t just kidnap me to join the group,” Yakov said nonchalantly. “Moving out will save me from being monitored by Anbichya.”
“…It’s good that you think that way.” Yubi helped him down from his horse by the shoulder and jumped to the ground.
They entered the courtyard for the second time, where a large number of servants and slaves bustled about, moving goods and wiping utensils. Isaac and Yubi, accompanied by the notary Cicero, were ushered into the spacious drawing room. The Venetian master of the courtyard awaited them there, praying—the grumpy middle-aged man looked like a pufferfish stripped of its spines, Yubi thought, puffed up with anger, but without any venomous stingers to prick. "I only accept the newest Hebron!" he shouted arrogantly, turning from the shrine. "The old gold coins have all been clipped and shrunken!"
“The currency is fine, but the price needs to be discussed separately,” Sycero spoke on behalf of the nobles standing behind him. “The most important thing is the paperwork. Show me your land deeds.”
Yubi found the atmosphere utterly unbearable. When these tedious officials and merchants gathered in the study, discussing contracts and legal clauses, they resembled a group of feigned civilized warriors, desperately trying to stab their enemy in the weak with concealed spears, yet claiming to be humble, polite, and generous—it would have been far more satisfying to draw a sword and engage in a swift and decisive battle, like Yakov! But Yubi thought, so this exhilarating combat was a privilege. Cicero and the Venetian engaged in a lengthy, heated debate, the two sweaty men discussing everything from the ownership of leased land to the inheritance of noble property, from the dates and areas of land deeds to the appreciation and depreciation of gold coins, from the validity period of clauses to the scope of the law—the more he listened, the more tedious and boring it became.
Isak sat beside Yubi, dozing with a glass of clear wine in hand, as if the money spent on the deal wasn't his property, and he cared nothing for whether Cicero had the upper hand in the negotiations. Even the tense Yakov leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. Yubi yawned, randomly picking a book from the haphazardly spread books on the table, trying to wake himself—it was a history book, the open page detailing the achievements of the late Emperor Basil II nearly two hundred years ago. "To forge an alliance with Rus', he offered his sister in marriage to the distant, cold Novgorod, thus baptizing the Slavic barbarians and enlightening them with God's grace…" "He divided fifteen thousand Bulgarian prisoners of war into groups of one hundred, blinding ninety-nine of them in one eye, and one in the other. He had the one-eyed man lead the ninety-nine wailing blind men in countless long lines, making the prisoners' cries echo across the plains, terrifying the enemy to the core…"
The history was horrific, Yubi thought, but the bloody and exciting stories could add some amusement to this dreary night. "You'll find no buyers now except Lord Canakakis," Cicero said, holding a candle and spitting as he persuaded the Venetian merchant opposite him, seemingly having the upper hand. "If you delay a few more days, you won't make it to the last ship, and you might become a prisoner of war, blinded by the emperor like the Bulgarians. Such truths aren't told to everyone."
"Become prisoners of war?" Yubi looked up. "But Rome and Venice haven't gone to war."
As soon as he finished speaking, he noticed both sides staring at him as if he had uttered some utterly bizarre and fantastical tale. Yubi realized he shouldn't have interrupted—but he was really curious to know what secrets these people were secretly hiding.
"That's settled then," the Venetian suddenly said with a heavy heart. "Give me the new land deed you've prepared."
Cicero's face immediately lit up with a smile. He let out a long sigh, as if a heavy burden had been lifted from his soul. "A wise decision," the experienced notary praised.
Before Yubi fastened the coat of arms with the gold ring, he only had a chance to glimpse the contents—the document was decorated with a cross and the Keller symbol, which was said to be proof that the contract was valid.
"Does it say Kanakakis or Noctennias?" Yakov suddenly stopped him warily. "Watch it carefully, don't just stamp it randomly!"
Upon hearing this, Youru felt as if he were facing a formidable enemy, and hurriedly looked upwards. Before he could find where the successor's name was written, he first caught sight of a row of astonishingly large Greek numerals, and couldn't help but tremble in shock. "It's Karnakakis," Isaac interrupted him, "This seal is my coat of arms, this land is my property. It won't prevent you from living here."
“Only in this way can we avoid taxes.” Notary Cicero stared nervously at the seal ring on Yubi’s index finger, fearing that something might go wrong again. “If you use your family’s Hungarian surname, you’ll have to pay countless property taxes to the emperor every year!”
Yubi translated these words to Yakov, who then fell silent.
And so, amidst the expectant and disappointed gazes of the crowd, he raised his hand and pressed the gleaming gold ring seal onto the brand-new land deed. A bright red, openwork cross stained the paper, as if drenched in blood.
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