Chapter 712: The White Deer
The shadows of Antonius and Leo stretched long and slender across the grass, symbolising the passage of time and the bond between father and son. The emperor, though showing signs of frailty and weariness, maintained a regal posture on his mount, a testament to his enduring spirit. Leo, with the reins firmly in his hands, walked with a sense of purpose and resolve, reflecting the growing responsibilities he bore as the heir to the throne. The silhouettes of the two figures seemed to merge and diverge as they moved in tandem, capturing the complex relationship between them—a blend of authority, duty, and familial love.
The father and son continued this quiet journey for some time, allowing the emperor to momentarily satisfy his deep-seated yearning to ride again. Eventually, he yielded to the persistent requests of the queen to return, dismounting from the horse with an air of reluctant acceptance. The queen’s concern, coupled with his own realisation of his physical limits, led him to step down from the mount, acknowledging the need to rest.
In the days that followed, the emperor, determined to prove his recovery and to reclaim his former vigor, resumed horseback training with a renewed intensity. It was as if he sought to erase any doubts about his strength, pushing himself harder with each session. For an entire month, he trained tirelessly, urging his horse to go faster and faster. Eventually, he began to gallop across the plains, ignoring the strong protests from his guards, who feared for his safety. Their concerns, however, only seemed to fuel his determination, as he sought to defy the limitations imposed by age and health.
It was during this time that the emperor made a resolute decision. Feeling increasingly confined by the protective measures of his Varangian guards, Antonius decided that the time had come to break free from these constraints. He yearned for the freedom and exhilaration of a true ride, unencumbered by the constant supervision that had come to define his daily life. The urge to recapture the independence he once enjoyed became overwhelming.
Despite the strong protests and earnest persuasions from his courtiers and guards, Antonius remained steadfast in his decision. As he aged, his stubbornness seemed to intensify, and he was determined to assert his will. He warned his attendants not to inform Anna or Leo of his plans, threatening severe punishment for anyone who disobeyed him. With his mind set, Antonius rose early one morning, at the break of dawn. Without waking his wife or alerting Cerberus and Leo, he quietly prepared for his ride. Mounting his horse with practiced ease, he set off with a small group of loyal guards, leaving Constantinople behind as soon as the gates opened.
The landscape around Constantinople had changed significantly over the years. The woodlands that once surrounded the city had been greatly diminished, cleared away to make room for the ever-growing population and their insatiable demand for resources. The need for timber for construction, fuel, and other purposes had resulted in the near disappearance of many of the emperor’s favorite hunting grounds. What had once been vast stretches of forest, rich with wildlife, had been transformed into farmlands. This realisation disappointed Antonius deeply, as it symbolised the relentless march of time and change, encroaching on the memories of his past.
After two hours of riding, the emperor finally arrived at a hunting ground that suited his mood. The long ride under the relentless summer sun of 1480 had left him feeling lightheaded and dizzy, partly from the heat and partly from the lack of water.
However, due to the haste with which he had set out, neither the emperor nor his guards had brought sufficient provisions, including the wine he usually relied on to keep himself steady.
"Spread out!" the emperor ordered. "Go and find the nearest homestead! Ask them if they have any alcohol!"
"Yes, your Majesty!" the guards responded promptly.
The emperor dismounted and settled onto a rock, panting slightly as he caught his breath, surrounded by the quiet of the early summer woods, with just two guards standing by. The woods were dense and peaceful, the greenery at its fullest, the air cool and fresh, with a gentle breeze rustling the leaves. The tranquil atmosphere began to take its toll on the emperor. Despite needing less sleep as he aged, the combination of the long ride and the relaxing environment made him drowsy. Unable to resist, he instructed his guards that he would take a brief nap and then lay down on the grass.
The emperor drifted into sleep, lulled by the chirping of birds and the whisper of the wind through the trees. Sunlight filtered gently through the canopy, dappling the ground around him. Meanwhile, back at the palace, chaos ensued as the courtiers and guards scrambled to locate the emperor. His sudden departure had thrown everyone into a panic. Guards raced around Constantinople, searching for any clue to his whereabouts, and it wasn’t until they checked the ledger at the court stables that they discovered a few horses had been taken out just after four in the morning by Varangian guards for "training purposes."
Anna was furious. She couldn’t fathom why her husband had become increasingly rebellious, defying every piece of advice meant for his well-being.
A line of cavalry thundered through the streets, out of the city gates, and towards the various hunting grounds in a desperate bid to find and bring back the emperor.
The emperor woke from his deep slumber to the sound of approaching hooves and the trembling of the ground. Years of battlefield experience had honed his instincts to always be on alert. He quickly sat up, realising it was his returning guards who had gone out in search of wine. Unfortunately, they returned empty-handed. There were no homesteads with any supply of alcohol nearby, only plain water. However, given the less-than-ideal hygiene conditions of these rural areas, where fresh biological fertiliser was often mixed with water, the guards deemed it unfit for the emperor’s consumption.
The emperor woke with a start and, despite his dizziness, stubbornly climbed back onto his horse. He knew that after this impromptu excursion, he might face restrictions on his future hunts. Determined to enjoy his day, he chose to press on, regardless of his condition.
The emperor and his guards ventured deeper into the woods, which were vast, rural, and filled with hidden dangers. The rising temperatures had brought all manner of creatures out of their hiding places, particularly around streams and water bodies where they sought to quench their thirst. This made it an ideal hunting ground, as the emperor knew from experience that prey often let their guard down near water.
Despite the prime conditions, the emperor found himself growing increasingly fatigued. His head swam as he tried to remain vigilant, scanning the landscape he ruled for any signs of large herbivores. After another hour of waiting by the water, it seemed as though the area had been deserted. Not even a rabbit dared to hop through. It was as if the very presence of the hunting party had been sensed by the animals, or perhaps some divine force had warned them to stay away.
Just as the emperor’s weariness threatened to overtake him, one of his guards shook him gently, lowering his voice to a whisper. "Look, your Majesty! Over there!"
The emperor squinted into the distance, focusing his gaze. His breath caught in his throat as he saw what his guard was pointing at—a roe deer. It was medium in size, but what made it truly remarkable was its coat. The deer’s fur was a flawless, luminous white, almost glowing in the dappled sunlight that filtered through the canopy. The deer’s eyes were a deep, serene black, contrasting sharply with its pale fur. The purity of its coat was mesmerising, as if nature itself had painted this creature with a delicate hand. Each graceful movement seemed almost ethereal, making the deer appear more like a creature from myth than reality. Its presence was a rare and extraordinary sight, one that could captivate the heart of any hunter.
This was no ordinary deer; this was a prize worth pursuing, a symbol of the emperor’s enduring connection to the land and his prowess as a hunter.
The emperor gulped as he raised his bow, his hands trembling slightly with a mix of anticipation and determination. "I’m going to win this bounty for myself! Go, surround it!" he commanded, his voice filled with urgency.
The guards immediately sprang into action, fanning out to the flanks with a disciplined caution born of experience. They moved carefully, each step measured to avoid alerting the deer to their presence. But in the dense undergrowth of the woods, one of the riders mis stepped, snapping a twig underfoot. The sharp crack echoed through the still air, startling the white deer.
The deer’s head shot up from the water, its ears twitching as it sensed the danger. The serene moment was shattered, and the deer, recognising the imminent threat, acted on pure instinct. With a powerful leap, it launched itself across the narrow stream, its graceful form a blur of white against the dark green backdrop of the forest.
