‘I find this place so cooling in the hot weather,’ Theophanes explained as we took our seats, ‘and often so private.’
His voice lingered over the word ‘private’.
He took up a silver pot with a long spout. ‘Do please let us share this most refreshing drink.’
He poured two generous helpings of a black, steaming liquid. I’d seen him drink this at the end of some of our dinners in the restaurant. Knowing his abstemious habits, I’d stuck to the wine. Now, I took up my cup and sipped carefully.
‘It is a custom I brought from my own country,’ said Theophanes. ‘It is an infusion of berries called kava that both settles the stomach and refreshes the mind. I have never made any converts to it among the Greeks. But it is used widely by those Eastern races that cannot or will not trust themselves with even watered wine. If, after your long ordeal, it does not wholly revive you, I recommend these other dried berries from Africa. Chewed in moderation, they are still more stimulating.’
I took up a handful of the things and crunched them. They tasted foul, but I washed them down with more of the kava juice. Even as I doubted its efficacy, the combination set up a warming feeling in my stomach. This spread upwards and around, taking the heavy weariness from my body and giving a renewed sharp edge to my wits.
‘Theophanes,’ I said, putting my cup down, ‘you will agree that we have much to discuss in the time available to us.’
‘Much indeed, my dearest Aelric,’ he replied. ‘I hope, by the way, you will not object if, when we are truly in private, I use your proper name?’
‘I want to know many things,’ I said, ignoring the request. ‘In the first place, I want to know what happened outside that tent while I was entertaining the Great One and his daughter.’
‘You will recall,’ said Theophanes through the steam from his cup, ‘that I was sent out to refresh myself after those exertions that Martin had so usefully suggested during your attempts at diplomacy. Doubtless, your own exertions would in some manner have been polluted by the presence of one so sadly incomplete as I.’
I silenced him with an impatient wave. Those berries were making me testy.
‘I’ll have none of that official old toss, if you please,’ I snapped. ‘The day we were taken prisoner, I was approached by the man who tried to kill me last month. He said he was an agent.’
‘I was told of the meeting,’ Theophanes said as I finished my account. ‘And no – please be aware that he really is working at the moment for Heraclius. I have used Agathius myself in the past. But I regard him as a person of little intelligence and therefore of limited usefulness. Only think of that crude and self-defeating stratagem of his to keep you inside the city walls. I would never tolerate such incompetence. Had I wanted to keep you away from the barbarian raid – and you are right in assuming it was arranged by, or for, Heraclius – you can be sure it would have been a perfect stratagem.
‘I made the mistake of assuming that he and his associates would understand your apparent position here and act accordingly. It was most galling when they ignored what I hoped was the clearest evidence and believed you had been sent from Rome to arrange a deal between Pope and Emperor. That is why they tried to kill you with those roof tiles.
‘I had no choice but to approach you that day in the University Library, and make it clear to everyone that your presence here had the effect of blocking any such deal. Plainly, they understood me then, but were too stupid to leave matters alone.’
‘Of course,’ I said, ‘this was a lie. I wasn’t sent – or brought – here to block anything. There are no differences between you and the Permanent Legate. You and he are in this together. If Silas has withdrawn to his quarters, it’s only to keep him from being murdered by Heraclius.
‘A dead Permanent Legate cannot agree to anything with the Emperor. Or if it has been agreed, it may be harder to put into effect. So, tell me now – what is this agreement you have reached?’
‘My dear Aelric,’ came the reply, ‘I knew at once it was you above me in the Legation that night. I certainly got full sight of you as you swayed horribly round that dome. Please be assured that I prayed for your safe return to your own quarters.’
Theophanes gave me a close look. ‘What did you learn that evening?’ he asked.
‘That you finished off that poor sod Justinus,’ I said.
He shrugged. ‘Anything else?’ he asked.
I gathered my thoughts. ‘I could say you are plotting with the Lombards for an attack on Rome,’ I said. ‘If you can depose Boniface and replace him with – with, er – Silas, you could get your excommunication of Heraclius and forget all about the Universal Bishop stuff.’
Theophanes smiled. There seemed a slight easing of tension in his shoulders.
‘There would be a certain economy in what you suggest,’ he said. ‘Heraclius set out from Carthage last year with a shipload of bishops, all singing his praises as the New Apostle of Christ, come to redeem Empire and world alike. When he does eventually arrive outside the City walls, it will be with part of the True Cross that he lifted from the Sepulchre on his recent capture of Jerusalem.
‘If only the Pope would say the right words, the theological wheels would drop straight off the chariot that Heraclius has made for himself. Bearing in mind how short he is of money, that could mean the end of him.
‘But’ – Theophanes held up a finger – ‘but His Holiness will not say those words until after he has had everything that he wants from Phocas.
‘I know that His Holiness is described in Canterbury as Universal Bishop. However, the title has never been mentioned by the Emperor in other than private correspondence. The phrases taught to a race of illiterate barbarians do not necessarily describe the laws of the Empire… Therefore, the Roman Church is insistent on a formal decree that admits of no ambiguity.’
‘And you won’t give it’, I broke in, ‘because it would upset the Greek and other Eastern Churches.’
Now grave, Theophanes nodded. ‘The Church ruled by His Holiness of Constantinople might give way to an express command,’ he said. ‘But the Syrian and Egyptian Churches would never accept Western primacy. Greeks and Latins may hate each other for petty trifles, but this is as nothing to the hatred they share jointly in the East.
‘Since the conquests of the Great Alexander a thousand years ago, you Westerners – Greek or Latin or barbarian is unimportant – have viewed the East as naturally subject. But this is not to be regarded as a natural or a permanent state of affairs. If the Great Constantine thought the Christian Faith would be the glue to hold this Empire together, he was wrong.’
Theophanes stood. ‘You will forgive me if I must urinate in front of you. The latrines are inside, and I find my bladder grows weak with age.’
He looked up from the silver chamber pot. ‘Do you really believe’, he asked, ‘that such a plot could be hatched between me and the Permanent Legate without knowledge of the Dispensator? Or can you believe His Excellency would ever join such a plot?’
‘Of course not.’ I smiled. It fitted more of the facts than anything else I’d been able to think of. It was a rotten hypothesis, even so.
‘Then you do not fall in my estimation,’ he said. ‘And luck was truly with you that night you went spying in the Legation.’
I watched as Theophanes rearranged himself.
‘There is also the matter’, I said, beginning again, ‘of your defection from Phocas. Any chance you might tell me what happened outside the Great One’s tent? Who was that man behind the curtain? What did you agree with him?
‘What is it that made me surplus to requirements – even an embarrassment, to be removed as soon as decently possible? And how did you persuade him not to have Martin and me killed on the spot? It’s your business if you want to dump Phocas as you dumped Maurice. I don’t blame you an inch. I’ll even thank you for the limited favour. But I want to know how this affects me.’
I poured myself yet another cup of that hot infusion. Having drained it in a gulp, I sat back glowering. I also found myself trembling very slightly.
Cup in hand, Theophanes sat watching me. His face had no need of the white lead that covered it. There was no expression to conceal.
‘The man’, he said, ‘was another of the fools who serve Heraclius. Instead of realising that my death or extended captivity was in the best interests of his master, he let himself be persuaded that he had found a valuable
