the business of combing raw wool to prepare it for spinning, ‘an honest profession that affords a man a lifetime of steady earning and rewarding activity. Unless, of course, he runs afoul of his local Prefect.’ The young man’s eyes popped open like a sheep’s in the shearing pen. Joannes drummed the table for a moment, his crusty fingernails making a staccato sound like a marching tattoo. ‘I should like to free you from that anxiety,’ said Joannes at length. ‘That is why I asked that you undertake this long journey for me. I should like you to be my guest here in the Empress City. Forget the worries of your profession for a while. I will put my head to it and arrive at a more suitable employment for a young man of your abilities.’
The young man stared at Joannes as if he had just witnessed the Archangel descend before his eyes, bearing a message from the Pantocrator Himself. ‘Yes, sir.’
‘Gregory!’ Haraldr stood and gestured for the little eunuch to join him and Maria at the table.
‘I cannot stay, Hetairarch, Mistress. The duties of the Grand Interpreter of the Varangians are manifold. I have come to you in my capacity as chief intelligence secretary in the offices of the Hetairarch.’ Gregory smiled and then composed himself. ‘This was sufficiently important to arrest your dining.’
‘At least sit while you tell us.’
Gregory allowed the serving eunuch to seat him to Haraldr’s right, and he looked for a moment at Maria, who sat opposite him. ‘I do not wish to jeopardize the Mistress with this,’ he said.
‘Don’t worry, my friend,’ said Haraldr. ‘I would have to tell her, anyway. I don’t know half of what she does of this palace and its curious machinations.’ He looked at Gregory quizzically. ‘This doesn’t sound like an ordinary intrigue.’
‘It may be nothing, Hetairarch, but as recent history has shown us, even the most insignificant seed can grow untended and eventually attack the great roots of an entire Empire.’ Gregory smoothed the embroidered tablecloth before him, almost as if he were going to write his information on it. ‘I have made the acquaintance of a Secretikoi in the office of the Sacellarius who has been assigned to the records bureau in the Magnara basement. I need not tell you of the importance of that location. This man has become friendly with the Orphanotrophus Joannes’s secretary, and of course is well placed to monitor the comings and goings in the Orphanotrophus’s office as it is. Yesterday he saw a young man – a young man whose only distinguishing characteristic seemed to be his utter mediocrity – visit the Orphanotrophus’s offices for a private interview. He inquired of Joannes’s secretary, and learned that the man was a young relative of Joannes’s from his home in Paphlagonia theme. My acquaintance also learned that Joannes has provided this young man a comfortable lodging outside the city. Quite ironically, these lodgings are the same as those occupied by our Emperor during the time when he was merely our Caesar.’
Haraldr looked at Maria and then back to Gregory. ‘An island going,’ he said in Norse.
‘Island going?’ asked Maria in her own increasingly fluent Norse. ‘I don’t know that kenning.’
‘Single combat,’ said Haraldr in Greek. ‘It sounds as if Joannes has obtained the shield he needs, and from what I have seen, our Emperor is honing the sword he intends to wield to a fine edge. I think it is only a matter of time before they challenge each other.’
Gregory stood and bowed. ‘That is my inference as well, Hetairarch. I will allow you to digest this information further while I return to my duties. And to the collection of more information on this matter.’
After Gregory had departed, Haraldr and Maria stared at each other for a long moment. Finally Haraldr sighed. ‘I guess we are going to have another argument.’
Maria’s blue eyes ignited. ‘Of course we are.’
‘Well, you do agree with my interpretation of this information, don’t you?’
Maria nodded. ‘Of course. It is obvious. Michael has not proved to be as malleable as Joannes had hoped, and now Joannes has begun to carve himself a new puppet.’ She signalled for the eunuch to remove her silver plate. ‘I don’t know why he has even troubled himself with that formality. He already fancies himself an Emperor, with his private guard now, and the Senate always following behind him like a herd of sheep with golden fleece.’
‘I think that is good,’ countered Haraldr. ‘It makes Joannes’s power evident to everyone. If he abuses the people, they will hold him accountable. He can no longer hide behind his monk’s habit or the Orphanotrophus’s office. And I think he knows that.’ Haraldr leaned forward earnestly. ‘He is making serious concessions now. Under Joannes’s auspices the Imperial Treasury has financed the reconstruction of twenty square blocks of the Studion. Food distribution in the Studion is now a regular state programme, vastly expanded beyond what I started. Joannes is even studying the thematic tax ledgers to find cheaters and absconders who are placing an unequal burden on their fellow villagers.’
‘And the Imperial Orphanotrophus can also reverse these reforms with several strokes of his pen.’
‘No. Once the people have received a lightening of their burden, they will be considerably more resistant to having that burden placed back on their shoulders. If Joannes wants to survive, he will have to continue his reforms.’
‘I think Michael is every bit as capable of managing these reforms,’ countered Maria. ‘Look at the Imperial Court judges he has removed, and those he has appointed. And what about his demotion of both that idiot Strategus and his corrupt Chartalarius in Opsikion theme.’
Haraldr spread his hands with mock incredulity. ‘I have always respected Michael’s abilities when he is motivated to employ them,’ he said. ‘You will recall that I was the first to bring those abilities to your attention, and at that time you argued that I was wrong about that.’ Maria stuck out her tongue. ‘Both men are capable of ruling Rome. The issue is, which one
‘So you are saying that because Michael cannot win, you are going to support Joannes in this combat? I cannot believe that!’
‘No. I do not wish there to be any combat. What I would like to do, in fact, is prevent this combat, and preserve Michael’s lesser, but important, role in the government of Rome. Once Michael has been defeated, I will be unable to do that.’
‘You forget the real issue of who rules Rome.’ Maria thumped her fist on the table. ‘Zoe is the government. The rest come and go. And of the two men who currently rule Rome, Joannes is a far more serious threat to Zoe. This is why I cannot countenance Joannes’s participation in the Imperial Administration in any form.’
‘I certainly have not forgotten Zoe’s welfare and safety,’ protested Haraldr. ‘That is my entire point. The more visibly Joannes is identified with the rule of Rome, the more imperative it is for him to come to a public, binding and lasting agreement with Zoe. I believe I can negotiate such an agreement myself.’
Maria put her hand on Haraldr’s arm. ‘Be careful. You think you have become expert in the Roman arts of guile and cunning, but you are still merely a novice. I think you are too naive and trusting ever truly to fathom the Roman mind. I suppose that is why I love you.’
‘What if I can bring about this agreement?’ said Haraldr with a somewhat wounded edge to his voice. ‘A public pledge by Joannes, which it would be suicidal for him to deny later.’
‘I would say that in that case I would be satisfied that my Mother was well taken care of.’ Maria leaned forward and blasted Haraldr with her acute stare. ‘But consider this, esteemed Hetairarch. You say you hope to prevent this single combat from taking place. What if you cannot? Are you prepared to prevent Joannes from winning?’
Yes. I have been talking with the new Grand Domestic Camytzes, and he is no Dhynatoi stooge like Dalassena. I believe he will defend his Emperor against Joannes.’
Maria conceded the argument with a shrug. ‘I think that is the kind of persuasion Joannes would understand. Good. Now we can start worrying about your throne.’ She got up and put her arm around Haraldr’s neck and kissed his forehead. ‘I think I am ready for that long northern night.’
‘Nobilissimus!’ Michael held out his hand to his Uncle Constantine and with the other gestured towards the outdoor polo field; one of his portable thrones had been erected along the east border of the broad green lawn, just in front of the salmon-tinted porticoes of the Imperial Apartments. ‘Look! Look! Look!’ screamed Michael, rising to his feet, the pitch of his voice steadily ascending in accompaniment. ‘Glycas is driving!’ A pack of horsemen in
