Read Mad Gods - Predatory Ethics: Book I for Free Online

of the last imperial tutor.
Framing the steps on either side were solidly built rock walls, eroded by the
weather and half crumbled, though they still blocked some of the wind that blew
atop the hill.
    The complex of churches, monasteries, cozy mansions,
stone arches and firm fortification, were cut into the smaller hill of Mount Taïyetos .
The stones were all from nearby ancient Sparta. Mystra’s builders had used the
past to construct their defenses. At another time, Kosta might have paused to
ponder the irony of Christian trees growing from pagan seeds, but now he had no
time. Now he looked for zealots.
    He passed more long, wide, stone steps, overgrown
with grass, curving around the hill from which they were cut. He looked over
steep slopes, interrupted by partial walls. Arched doorways and windows hid
rock foundations. Only this hard stuff survived in the sheer, weather-beaten Taïyetos hills. The twists and turns of the steps and walkways recalled roads cut into
the ravines of Pelloponisos, all through Laconia and Messinia . Kosta neared the Monemvasia Gate, separating KatoHora ,
lower-town, from AnoHora ,
upper-town, composed of nobles’ houses and higher churches.
    He went left, straight for Agios Dimitrios, with
its triple nave facing the gate, arch-windowed dome topped by red tiles. It was
also cut into the hillside; its many parts and tall walls followed the slope of
the hill.
    He passed a group of visitors, amongst whom was a
uniformed police officer. They smiled and bid him a kalispera , good
evening. The cop even leveled a yia-sou , to your health. They emerged from Agios Dimitrios as Kosta entered. He walked straight down and to the left, up two steps,
looking about the still visible, frescoed torture of the patron saint.
    He searched the floor for a double-headed eagle,
carved out of purple, imperial porphyry. This is where, purportedly, the last
Paleologos was crowned. However, history is sometimes mistaken. Kosta knew
this, as did the shape that sprung at him from behind a pillar. Kosta blocked a
knife, coming up to gut him. He half expected to be tackled by another
assailant, but was surprised when he merely had to step away from a slash,
aimed at his chest. He smiled at his Templar attacker. Had he been wise, he
would’ve waited until dark, when there were no others in the abandoned hill
town.
    “ Voithia , help!” Kosta shouted. “Someone is trying
to rob me. Tholophonos ,
killer!” The attack proved that before he died, Mitchum 2 had been able to tell
his Brothers where Kosta would be. They had probably split up to cover more
ground. His attacker faced the door, through which two men from the passing
group came at a run. He desperately swung his knife to ward them off, but Kosta
rushed and flattened him with a knee to the stomach, a full right-cross across
his face. He was unconscious before he hit the floor.
    “ Pios einai, ton xeris ? You know this guy?” They
asked.
    “No,” Kosta answered in Greek. “He wanted my money,
and when I refused, he said he’d kill me.” Kosta thanked them, and the police
officer, who had wished him yia-sou, handcuffed the still insensible man.
Slapped awake, the Templar blinked blearily. As he was led away, the policeman
said that Kosta would have to give a statement the following morning. He said
that this akatharma ,
filth, would keep in a cell until then.
    Once they were gone, Kosta continued to look for the
porphyry. He finally found it and bent down to wipe it clean with his kerchief.
As he wiped, he uncovered its deep luster in the quickening twilight of the
early evening. After centuries of wear, the double-headed eagle was almost worn
smooth. Kosta waited for some indication, a sign, that this was Plethon’s
resting place. He found nothing. All was still. No spectral philosopher
materialized from the stones and the frescoed scenes of Christ, or the life of
his virginal mother.
    He left and continued past the side of Agios Dimitrios ,
up a rocky slope