Iakovitzes tasted the oysters, then wrote in big letters, 'I want to marry the cook.'
'He is a man, eminent sir,' Barsymes said.
'All the better,' Iakovitzes wrote, which sent the vestiarios into rapid retreat. He presently returned with another new platter along with a fresh jar of wine. This dish held peppered mullet liver paste baked in a fish-shaped mold and then sprinkled with virgin olive oil, as well as squashes baked with mint, coriander, and cumin, and stuffed with pine nuts ground with honey and wine.
'I shan't eat for a week,' Krispos declared happily.
'But your Majesty, the main courses approach,' Barsymes said in anxious tones.
Krispos corrected himself: 'Two weeks. Bring 'em on.' The tip of his nose was getting numb. How much wine had he drunk, anyhow? The rich flavor of the fish livers nicely complemented the squashes' sweet stuffing.
Barsymes bore away the empty mold from which the liver paste had come and the bowl that had held the squashes. Under the table, Krispos felt something on his leg, just above the knee. It turned out to be Iakovitzes' hand. 'By the good god,' the Avtokrator exclaimed, 'you never give up, do you?'
'I'm still breathing,' Iakovitzes wrote. 'If I haven't stopped the one, why should I stop the other?'
'Something to that,' Krispos admitted. He hadn't had much luck with the other lately, and he'd surely be too gorged after this banquet was done to try to improve that tonight. Just then Barsymes came back again, this time with a tureen and two bowls. Thinking about what the tureen might hold took Krispos' mind off other matters, a sure sign of advancing years.
The vestiarios announced, 'Here we have mullets stewed in wine, with leeks, broth, and vinegar, seasoned with oregano, coriander, and crushed pepper. For your added pleasure, the stew also includes scallops and baby prawns.'
After the first taste, Iakovitzes wrote, 'The only thing that could further add to my pleasure would be an infinitely distensible stomach, and you may tell the cooks as much.'
'I shall, eminent sir,' Barsymes promised. 'They will take pleasure in knowing they have pleased you.'
The next course was lobster meat and spawn chopped fine, mixed with eggs, pepper, and mullet broth, wrapped in grape leaves, and then fried. After that came cuttlefish boiled in wine, honey, celery, and caraway seeds, and stuffed with boiled calves' brains and crumbled hard-cooked eggs. Only the expectant look on Barsymes' face kept Krispos from falling asleep then and there. 'One entree yet to come,' the vestiarios said. 'I assure you, it shall be worth the wait.'
'My weight's already gone up considerably,' Krispos said, patting his midsection. He could have used an infinitely distensible stomach himself about then.
But Barsymes, as usual, proved right. When he set down the last tray and its serving bowl, he said, 'I am bidden by the cooks to describe this dish in detail. Any lapses in the description spring from my lapses of memory, not theirs of talent. I begin: to soaked pine nuts and sea urchins, they added in a casserole layers of mallows, beets, leeks, celery, cabbage, and other vegetables I now forget. Also included are stewed chickens, pigs' brains, blood sausage, chicken gizzards, fried tunny in bits, sea nettles, stewed oysters in pieces, and fresh cheeses. It is spiced with celery seed, lovage, pepper, and asafetida. Over the top was poured milk with beaten egg. It was then stiffened in a hot-water bath, garnished with fresh mussels, and peppered once more. I am only too certain I've left out something or another; I beg you not to report my failing to the cooks.'
'Phos have mercy,' Krispos exclaimed, eyeing the big casserole dish with something far beyond mere respect. 'Should we eat of it or worship it?' After Barsymes served Iakovitzes and him, he had his answer. 'Both!' he said with his mouth full.
The feast had stretched far into the night; every so often, Barsymes fed charcoal to a brazier that kept the dining chamber tolerably warm. Iakovitzes held up his tablet. 'I hope you have a wheelbarrow in which to roll me home, for I'm certain I can't walk.'
'Something shall be arranged, I am certain,' the vestiarios said. 'Dessert will be coming shortly. I trust you will do it justice?'
Iakovitzes and Krispos both groaned. The Avtokrator said, 'We'll deal with it or burst trying. I'd say it's about even money which.' He'd taken an army into battle many times with better odds than those.
But the sweet scent of the steam gently rising from the pan Barsymes brought in revived his interest. 'Here we have grated apricots cooked in milk until tender, then covered in honey and lightly dusted with ground cinnamon.' The vestiarios bowed to Iakovitzes. 'Eminent sir, the cooks apologize for their failure to include seafood in this one dish.'
'Tell them I forgive their lapse,' Iakovitzes wrote. 'I've not yet decided whether to sprout fins or tentacles from tonight's fete.'
The apricots tasted as good as they smelled. Krispos nonetheless ate them very slowly, being full far past repletion. He was only halfway through his portion when Barsymes hurried into the dining chamber. The Emperor raised an eyebrow; such a lapse was unlike the eunuch.
Barsymes said, 'Forgive me, your Majesty, but the mage Zaidas would have speech with you. It is, I gather, a matter of some urgency.'
'Maybe he's here to tell me Digenis dropped dead at last,' Krispos said hopefully. 'Fetch him in, esteemed sir. If he'd come sooner, he could have helped the two of us commit gluttony here, not that we haven't managed well enough on our own.'
When Zaidas came to the doorway, he started to prostrate himself. Krispos waved for him not to bother. Nodding his thanks, the wizard greeted Iakovitzes, whom he knew well. 'Good to have you back with us, eminent sir. You've been away too long.'
'It certainly
Barsymes carried in a chair for the mage. 'Help yourself to apricots,' Krispos said. 'But first tell me what brings you here so late. It must be getting close to the sixth hour of the night. Has Digenis finally gone to the ice?'
To his surprise, Zaidas answered, 'No, your Majesty, or not that I know of. It has rather to do with your son Phostis.'
