On Kowtow

Mother

The caravan had halted on the road to the East and a cook was preparing food when the rain began to pour. “Do not worry my Basileus,” a member of Ioseph’s personal guard attempted to soothe him “I am sure we will be moving along swiftly after we have dined.” Ioseph nodded to him and kept a stern face as he stood at the verge of the door of the tent.

The guard nodded back and returned his smile to a stern face. He had to know his place, and was well aware of it after Ioseph’s cold reaction. “Let us walk for a little while, the rain is still soft,” Ioseph said and the two guards followed suit out of the tent, silently.

The tents were strewn about, for the caravan that he took along with him was not to be too pompous. He was on a kowtow to the Emperor of China after all, and wanted to appear at least moderately humble, against his own desire and what he was used to. He was a Basileus after all.

The grass was soft under his feet and it was slightly muddy, and the rain seemed to be picking up slowly. People of the caravan nodded and bowed before Ioseph as he walked on, and he nodded ever so slightly to each. He was wearing simple clothing, but everyone knew who he was. He simply did not want to arouse attention this far into foreign lands. They had left the Orthodox dominated Byzantine Empire a few weeks prior and were traversing Shia territory. The Sunni areas were to be avoided at any cost, for the prior holy wars in which the Empire participated would definitely not bode well for the whole caravan, which followed mass strictly.

The area around the Southern Caspian Sea was a beautiful sight to behold. The rolling hills that sloped elegantly into the sea, where fishers and folk alike spent their time and enjoyed the good weather. It was the birth of Spring and the winds and weather would bring new life to the area and make it flourish. Already Ioseph could already see flowers upon the fields ahead of him and sheep grazing. The thought of Spring flowers and grassy fields reminded him of his youth.

The image of himself with his mother going out of the castle incognito came to his inner eye. His mother would dress him simply and she, too, would go out in simple garb to sneak past guards and the city folk to the pastures and fields below the city of Constantinople. The Theodosian walls in the distance, looming and brooding, yet out in the field he could frolic and run around without a worry. He was more free then, than he ever would be as Basileus.

“All this will one day be yours, my son!” She would tell him, and he would go around asking.

“Will this grass be mine?”

“Yes, also that grass.”

“And those sheep over there, will they be mine?”

“All you set your eyes upon.”

“The birds, will they be mine?” With that she laughed, a laugh that would brighten his heart and illuminate his life. “Yes, my child, if you can catch them, the birds shall also be yours!”

A smile came to Ioseph as the rain began to fall heavier upon them. The guards to his side stood in silent vigil as he looked out towards the basin. A courtier shouted out Ioseph as he stood watching the rain fall out of the clouds. “My Basileus! The rain shall pick up and head for here! We spoke to move out of the path of the storm that is approaching, what say you?”

Ioseph heard the courtiers of the caravan shouting between each other and picking up pots and moving things, as the rain came down harder and harder. Ioseph’s hair stuck to his head, his clothes were getting heavier and the armed guards shifted back and forth. Ioseph felt sombre at this location and felt obliged to stay to pay homage to his mother at this point, for the memories she invoked. Yet, as he remembered what she had done and how she had perished, the feeling of youthful innocence and happiness subsided. The pain was bitter and more recent than the good memories.

Ioseph sighed and turned to the courtier, shouting “Order everything packed then! Let us avoid this horrible storm and… carry on.” The guards hurried beside him and the carriages were prepared.

Ioseph thought to himself ‘I must carry on… I will not let the past control me…’ as he got into his covered carriage and sat down. The rain continued to patter down upon the carriage and all around him courtiers hurried to and fro to prepare to move the caravan.

After quite a hiatus in terms of writing, although not entirely, but mainly here, I have returned! My goal is to write an article every week here, at least once a week, and they will have no clear focus. A little bit of this, a little of that. This one is based on events in a game called ‘Crusader Kings 2’. Basileus Ioseph of the Byzantine Empire decides with his entourage whether or not to pay respects to his late mother, Ida von Pommern, a German woman who died in his dungeon a lunatic with great pox. Why was she in prison? How’d she get Great Pox? Will we get answers? This plays on 6th of April, 985.

Wish me luck and have a happy new year!

Did you like this story? Part II, here