novelSusiti Chapter 190 Land Route or Sea Route?
Chapter 190 Land Route or Sea Route?
Chapter 190 Land Route or Sea Route? (Part Two)
Back in the spacious room prepared for them, Henry cleverly peeked out from the door, looked around, and then closed the door.
Outside the window, it had started to drizzle without my noticing. At first, it was just a fine drizzle, but it quickly turned into a downpour, constantly pattering on the pebble ground and leaves in the courtyard.
The sweltering heat of July was gradually dispelled by the coolness brought by the rain.
Henry walked to the window, looked at the night outside blurred by the rain, and muttered unconsciously, "Strange, why is it raining so heavily at this time?"
He shook his head and turned to Lyon: "Your Highness."
"Hmm?" Leon was taking off his outer robe when he heard this and looked up.
"Did you know this Governor Isaac before?" Henry asked curiously. "From the moment you saw him at the city gate, the way you looked at him—well, it was different. Not the kind of wariness you have towards Branas, nor the kind you use to look at ordinary imperial officials. How should I put it? It was like observation, a very careful observation, even with a hint of—good heavens, how should I put it, it was as if you already knew about this person and were verifying something."
Lyon felt a chill run down his spine; Henry's observational skills were frighteningly sharp.
He paused for a few seconds, then mumbled hesitantly, "I wouldn't say I know him. It's just—when I was little, I think I heard my grandfather, Andrew Komnenos, mention the surname Angloss, and some old stories about his family. You might not know, but my grandfather was the governor of Mercia and had dealings with many generals in the empire. At the banquet just now, Isaac mentioned his father, General Andronicos, and my grandfather may have indeed commented on him a few times, so when I heard the name, I had a vague impression and glanced at it a few more times."
Henry listened; he didn't press the matter further, but simply nodded thoughtfully.
He walked to the table, picked up the earthenware pot and poured two cups of water. He handed one cup to Lyon, took the other cup for himself, but did not drink it. Instead, he stared blankly into space.
"Never mind who he is," Henry said after a moment of silence, "let's talk about the boat trip. Your Highness, please don't blame me for being paranoid, but based on my experience in Italian city-states, mercenary groups, and all sorts of shady places, to deliberately dismantle your own army on someone else's territory, especially in this place where there is clearly internal strife, even if we are not on the side of the conflict, is an extremely foolish and dangerous thing to do."
He put down his water glass, placed his hands on the table, leaned forward, and stared intently: "We have 1,100 men. Together, we are a force to be reckoned with. Even a wild boar like Branas, who dares to charge at anything, would have to think twice before trying to take us down. But once we split into two groups, or even more, and board different ships, adrift at sea—"
Then we'd become pieces of meat on a chopping board. Isaac made it sound so grand—with Stephen's escort, with all the ships ready—but we didn't even know what Stephen looked like, what kind of person he was, or whether his men were reliable! We had no idea how sturdy those Panfilon ships were, or how reliable their sailors were!
Henry's concerns were indeed the same as Lyon's.
“I understand, Henry, I understand everything.” Lyon’s voice was low in the rain. “But we’re like we’re stuck at the crossroads of two alleys, forced to choose one. By land, north to Nicomedia—Henry, you and I both know what that means. Bartolomáos, he’s not just possibly connected to Branas. The orders he’s given us are practically bait leading us into a Turkic ambush! Whether intentional or not, on Branas’ orders or acting on his own, this man is no ordinary person, and he has no good intentions towards us. Re-enter his territory, and go through it? What if he closes the gates, demands a toll, or simply finds an excuse to detain some of our personnel and supplies? Fight him? Attack an imperial fortress garrison on imperial territory? Then we’re truly finished.”
He walked to the window and stood beside Henry, looking out at the dark, rainy night: "In contrast, Simeon and Isaac—at least on the surface—have been hospitable, providing supplies and arranging boats. Although there are calculations behind this goodwill, at least for now, we haven't found any substantial evidence to prove they intend to harm us. On two paths that could both be fraught with traps, I can only choose the one where the traps seem better disguised, perhaps one that won't kill me immediately. I still prefer to go by boat."
Henry fell silent; he had to admit that Lyon's analysis was both cruel and realistic.
The political risks of land routes are clear, while the unknown risks of sea routes, though potentially fatal, are at least disguised as helping allies.
In the absence of sufficient information and power to break the deadlock, this may be the only seemingly viable option.
"Yes, we have no choice." Henry finally sighed, his tone a mixture of reluctance and helplessness. "Then another problem arises, my lord. Even if we grit our teeth and choose the sea route, how will we divide them into groups? Your five hundred Jerusalem crossbowmen are manageable; they are disciplined and obey orders without question, so even if they are separated, they can maintain their formation. But what about the other hired men?"
He started counting on his fingers, his tone exaggerated and comical: "Those Danish barbarians, their brains filled with muscles and alcohol, have fiery tempers that flare up at the slightest provocation. Without you and me keeping them in check, who knows if they'll start a fight with the Imperial sailors who provided the ships because the wine isn't good or the meat isn't plentiful? Or what kind of trouble they might cause in Constantinople, unfamiliar with the place? And those Catalan rats are the most unruly of the unruly, even more troublesome than the Danes! They're used to acting on their own, and their laxity is unacceptable. Once they're separated from the group and unrestrained, who knows where they'll wander off to, what they'll steal, or they might simply sense things are going badly and find an opportunity to break up halfway through the journey!"
"And then there are my three hundred Bohemian compatriots," Henry rubbed his temples, looking helpless. "They're seasick to the point of near death. The last time they came from Jaffa was a nightmare for them. This time, without me there to coax and distract them in our native tongue, telling them those lowbrow jokes to keep them entertained, I'm afraid they'll either be half-dead by the time we reach Constantinople, or cause trouble out of despair!"
"Tomorrow," Lyon thought for a moment, and finally said, "when the rain stops, we'll go to the barracks. This isn't something we can just discuss here; we need to hear the soldiers' opinions."
Henry nodded, offering no objection.
The two said no more and went to rest.