down for a good look of my own.’ He paused as Macarius came almost directly back in. Again, he ignored Priscus and looked to me.
‘I must inform My Lord,’ he said, ‘that the Brotherhood Council is assured by His Grace the Bishop of Letopolis that His Majesty has been led astray by the Lord Priscus. They desire an immediate meeting to discuss this and other grievances. They propose to remain outside the tent until His Majesty chooses to show himself.’
Priscus pulled a face and swigged more of the wine. He looked again down at the body of Lucas. ‘At least they aren’t proposing to come in,’ he muttered. He pulled himself together. ‘Does anyone know where this other Soteropolis might be?’ he asked.
I nodded.
‘Well, I suggest we get ourselves over there pretty sharpish,’ he said. ‘Lucas may not have been their choice as leader. He was, nevertheless, the only one I left them.
‘Now, I don’t think I ever quite finished my account of the fall of Serdica,’ he said to me. ‘I got to the part where the ten thousand savages came pouring over the wall. What happened next was, they killed the whole sodding garrison, plus most of the civilian population. The reason I got away was because I kept my wits about me. I took one look at that blonde mob running down the main street at us, and made straight off in the other direction. I got to the far wall. I unbolted the gate myself, and didn’t look back until the town was a flickering glow miles behind me. I rode until morning, when I bumped into the relief column sent over by Maurice. You can be sure the account I gave was more heroic than the truth.’
He got up and walked over to the other side of the tent from the leather flaps. He pulled out his knife and quietly opened a long slash in the fabric. I felt the sudden chill of fresh air. A couple of the lamps flickered and went out. Macarius got them relit at once and pushed shades on to them. I looked over at the flaps. There was still a steady murmur of conversation outside. It sounded more impatient than suspicious.
‘Will you get your clothes on, Alaric?’ Priscus asked, stuffing his cat into a cloth bag. ‘Or do you intend riding naked through the desert?’
We got perhaps three miles across the moonlit sands before I heard the commotion behind me. I’d been wondering how long it would be before anyone noticed how silent the tent had fallen and walked in. Eventually, I was surprised it had taken so long. We must have made enough noise as we crept through the city of tents above Soteropolis, sniffing our way to where the camels were tethered. But we had got clean away. I was even beginning to think we might get to the other Soteropolis without further incident. I was wrong about that. Looking back from the high dune at the glitter from within the cloud of dust, it might have been the whole Brotherhood in pursuit.
‘A few dozen at the most,’ Priscus said calmly. ‘And since the wind is blowing their dust forward, I’ll be surprised if they can see anything at all. They could ride us down over a long chase. But this should be a quick dash. I only hope your geography is better in the desert than it was in the Egyptian quarter.’
He laughed and pushed his camel forward down the other side of the dune. I heard the hiss of the parting sands. Martin clung hard to Macarius on the camel behind mine, squealing softly at every bump. I followed Priscus down. Once on the level, we picked up speed again. Keeping up with Priscus was impossible. His camel raced forward as if they’d known each other all their lives. The wind played cold on my face as we rushed along. As with distance, there is no concept of speed in the desert. But the stones that lay dark on the sandy ground flashed by as if they’d been dropping from the sky.
Twisting your body to look back on a galloping horse isn’t something for the inexperienced. I wasn’t that good on horseback. On the camel, I didn’t dare make the attempt. But I could try not to fall too far behind Priscus. He looked back every so often, and didn’t seem worried by what he saw. What would be done with us if we were outrun should have been playing on my mind. But whatever I thought of him in every other respect, Priscus was in charge here, and he knew exactly what he was doing.
The torchlight from what I presumed had been the wrong Soteropolis came in sight without warning. One moment, the sands before us were all dimly white. The next moment, there was a faint glare of yellow just a couple of miles in front of us. Priscus was now swaying backwards and forwards, backwards and forwards, as, very smooth, he forced his camel to go ever faster. He raced ahead, the dozen yards between us rising to twenty and forty. I struggled to keep up, and would easily have been overtaken even by Macarius and Martin together, had not Macarius decided that I should be kept in the middle of the party.
I can’t repeat often enough that distances in the desert are hard to gauge. Seeing lights ahead is not the same as being among them. It isn’t the same as being within easy reach of them. We raced across the sands, in our ears the thunder of the camel hooves – and the shouting of our pursuers that grew ever closer. We had the advantages of fear and moderate skill and a very good head start. They had every other advantage, and this was beginning to tell.
Then, as I looked ahead, shapes seemed to rise out of nothing from the desert floor. They clustered in a mass, the moonlight glittering from their drawn weapons. Then they fanned out. Without seeing anything for sure, I raced past them. Far ahead of me, Priscus came to a sudden halt. He wheeled his camel round. I went straight past him, and I may have been a quarter of a mile ahead of him before I could get my own beast under control. By the time I could get back to him and Macarius and Martin, battle had been fully joined. I could see little enough in the moonlight. It was a set of confused if rapid skirmishes in which dark shadows reached up to mounted men, who wheeled round in fear, but were too surrounded for any getaway. I could hear the clash of weapons and the screams of men dragged down from their mounts and efficiently butchered. It was over in almost no time at all. Except for the bubbling screams of the dying and a continuing savage growl as if of some supremely powerful beast, the desert was silent all around us.
‘Get back on ride,’ a female said to me in bad Greek. ‘Go on to lights.’
I bowed to the Sister of Saint Artemisia, and tried to find some utterance simple enough for her to understand.
Her face shining with exaltation under the dark smears of what I took for blood, she paid no attention. She waved a dark and dripping sword at me. ‘Get back on ride,’ she said, pointing at the camel that was turning skittish beside me.
I found the Heretical Patriarch standing on a section of mud-brick wall that hadn’t yet fallen level with the desert. About a hundred yards behind me, the Sisters were marching back into the camp, their voices raised together in what sounded like one of the more ferocious Psalms. I got down from the camel again and knelt before him.
‘Your Holiness,’ I said. I got no further.
Anastasius took me by the hands and raised me up. ‘You are safe?’ he asked.
I nodded.
He looked at the other two camels. Martin was having one of his shaking fits as Macarius helped him down.
Priscus was looking confused. ‘Where are they?’ he called to Macarius. He’d been sure we were making for his guards. Anastasius and the Sisters were about as complete a surprise as if the object had dropped into his hands and started working. He looked at the Sisters, who were already tearing madly at the bread and cold meats set out on tables. Just in case more of the Brotherhood should appear, they’d placed their weapons within easy reach. Other than that, there was no evidence of the regular armed support he’d arranged with Macarius.
‘There may be much we need to discuss,’ Anastasius said, speaking to me again. ‘For the moment, let it be sufficient to say that you are safe in the hands of Mother Church. Of course, I discussed your letter with my brother patriarch, John. We were not happy that you had ignored my advice to stay in Alexandria. In view of the emergency, however – endangering, as it did, the whole of Creation – we decided this was a moment for setting aside every difference of creed and to work together. We had a message earlier from the local Bishop, and were planning our attack for the very early morning.’
As he spoke, the Master of the Works came in sight. I nodded to him. He bowed to me. I’d last seen him as I pushed him inside the Church of the Apostles and went after Martin. Other than assuming the whole of the Council had been saved along with Nicetas, I hadn’t thought of him since. He now stood before me, looking almost elegant in the cloak that partly covered his robe of office. He bowed again and moved past me. He stopped before Priscus, who was fiddling with the saddlebag on his camel.
‘My Lord Priscus,’ he said in a loud official voice, ‘I bear a warrant for your arrest signed and sealed by His Highness the Viceroy himself. The charges are desertion of your military post and high treason. There are other charges that you can read for yourself. My instructions are to place you in close confinement. Once in Alexandria,
