some indication of when I can at least set my hands on the object.’
I’d put myself in the barrel. I’d pushed myself into the right current. It was now simply a matter of shutting my eyes as I was carried straight over the waterfall. I tried to look nonchalant as I stepped out of the shadow.
‘Hello again, Lucas!’ I said with a warm smile. ‘I see you’ve done rather well for yourself since our last meeting.
‘Oh dear, is that camel dung in which the double crown of Egypt has just landed?’
Chapter 55
There are meetings on which the books of etiquette give little advice. But I did my best in the circumstances. I stepped past Lucas, who was now kicking viciously at the man who’d failed to catch his crown in time, and held my hand out to the Persian Envoy.
‘Greetings, Siroes,’ I said as easily as I could. ‘I am Alaric, Legate Extraordinary from His Imperial Majesty in Constantinople. It may please you that the Imperial Council is aware of your name and your many achievements on behalf of the Great King.’
One of the nice things about a beard for a diplomat is how it can help in moments of utter confusion. But Siroes was good. His eyes barely widened as he looked back. He smiled and took my hand.
‘And greetings to you, Alaric,’ he said. ‘We in Ctesiphon have heard much about you. Together with Priscus and Sergius, you are nearly at the top of our list of dignitaries to be handed over for execution when we dictate peace to the Empire. It may please you to know that if Priscus is before you on the list, you are before Sergius. It goes without saying that the usurper Heraclius comes right at the head of the list.’
‘Funny you should call him that,’ I said. We both ignored Lucas, whose crown was still covered in camel shit. ‘There’s no doubt Phocas was an usurper. He killed poor old Maurice and all his family, and then ruled as a tyrant. You might have had a case for not recognising him. Heraclius, on the other hand, was freely accepted by the Senate, the army and the people. He was crowned by the Patriarch of Constantinople; and he has the full endorsement of the Universal Bishop, His Holiness in Rome. It can be argued whether the constitution requires an emperor to have the Church on his side. There’s no doubt, however, that the opinion of some foreign prince is of no account whatever.
‘You are, by the way, on one of our lists. Only we aren’t thinking of your execution. We’ll need a candidate for the Persian throne once Chosroes has been put out of the way.’
Siroes touched his knuckles to his head in a gesture of respect. Lucas opened his mouth to say something, but one of those big men he’d had with him on our first trip through the desert came in sight. He took one look at me and screamed like a stricken bull. Straight down on his knees he went, crossing himself and babbling away in Egyptian. Whatever he was saying was taken up by a few others who’d been following Lucas and Siroes. As it spread to the low-grade Egyptians, Lucas had to start a screamed lecture of his own. He wheeled about, hitting out with his rod of Kingly Office and kicking anyone within reach. His crown was off again, and his wig was slipping down the back of his head. I looked at him and did my best not to laugh at the crudely applied make-up on his face. He was supposed to look majestic. The best his people had managed was to make him remind me of the Circus buffoons in Constantinople.
‘You join us at a most opportune moment,’ Siroes said, speaking loud above the incomprehensible shouts and squeals of the debate in progress. I think he also was trying not to laugh at Lucas. ‘There is immediate business of which you may be aware. If you serve me well enough in that, I may see fit to put in a word for you with the Great King. You see, our Christian minority speaks well of you for the tolerance of their heresy you have urged within the Empire. We might spare you as a token of our mercy in victory.’
‘Your goodness of heart robs me of normal speech,’ I said.
Siroes touched his forehead again. He even smiled. It was now that Lucas, who’d restored a sullen order among his men, butted in with a gloating and self-important speech about my function as finder of the piss pot of Jesus Christ. It seemed this really had been on the agenda the last time I was taken. This time, he said, I’d be under closer watch.
‘No one will save you now,’ he said. ‘Not the Greeks in Alexandria, nor, I think, the sorceress whose concern for your safety has surely not outlived her better acquaintance with you.’
‘That’s all very well,’ I said. I paused and waited while the whole headdress was stabilised again. ‘However, I do represent His Majesty the Emperor, and I think that entitles me to supper.’
We set out from the camp just after dawn, and were soon headed south-east along a rough trail through this borderland of the desert. There was no camel for me now. Instead, I was tied into the chair that I supposed had been made available to the Persian Envoy. Muttering away in his own language, Siroes looked on.
‘With the deepest respect, Your Majesty,’ he said once Lucas had come over, ‘I do suggest that, as a person of quality, His Magnificence should not be bound – not, at least, with common rope.’
‘You will understand, my dear Lucas,’ I added, ‘if I agree with the Lord Siroes. If you were the low bandit that I at first took you for, common rope would be appropriate. However, you are in rebellion – even if not with much success – against the Empire, and I do represent His Imperial Majesty. I would suggest golden fetters or nothing at all.’
Siroes nodded gravely and seemed inclined to add another of his own protests. More to the point, some of the Brotherhood men who’d survived the rising in Alexandria were drifting over and looking mutinous again. Lucas swore softly and twisted with rage, but came forward and shouted for the procession to stop. He took out a knife and cut the ropes.
‘If you so much as move from this chair,’ he hissed into my face, ‘I will personally cut off your feet at the ankles.’
‘God’s tits!’ I gasped, pulling myself back from the filthy gust of his breath. ‘I know your rules demand celibacy after you’ve produced two sons. If you won’t take a little guidance on oral hygiene, you’ll remain celibate before then as well.’
Lucas gave up trying to look majestic. ‘I will also tell you this,’ he continued, keeping his face close. ‘If you do somehow manage to escape again, I will lay hold of your secretary and personally stitch his testicles into his mouth. Don’t deny any interest in his fate. There is no other reason for your being here – and so many days before anyone would have thought it possible for you to get here from Alexandria.’
‘Is it true,’ I asked loudly, ‘that the old kings of Egypt used to strip off once a year and have a public wank into the Nile?’
He stared at me a moment. He swallowed, plainly thinking of some response that would crush me. Then, with a scowl, he was off, shouting at everyone to get under way again.
‘Not like a horse, is it?’ I said brightly.
Siroes stared down at me. He’d put off the fussy robes of the night before. Now, he was in the local riding costume. Like all Persians, he was probably an accomplished horseman. Camels, as I don’t need to keep saying, are not the same as horses.
‘The less time I spend seated on this beast,’ came the reply, ‘the happier I shall be. I am assured that, if all goes as planned, I shall require neither chair nor camel for my return.’
I shifted position. The chair was big and comfortable. Even if the sun hadn’t yet acquired its full power, I was glad of the shade from the canopy overhead. I yawned and stretched my legs.
‘Oh, you expect me to dig out your piss pot,’ I said. ‘Do you suppose it will let you grow wings and fly back? If so, it must be ever so powerful.’
Siroes gave me a sour look and twisted in his saddle.
‘Do tell me, though, Siroes,’ I said with a change of subject, ‘you really can’t be serious about leaving Egypt to the wogs. Whoever controls Egypt and its corn is in a position to control the world.’
‘We are perfectly determined,’ he said with a shade too much emphasis, ‘to reorder the world on a basis of equality between peoples.’
‘And you really mean to set up Lucas here as Pharaoh?’ I asked. I could hear him far off, close to the front of our procession. Something or someone had upset him, and he was screaming again like a steward over a broken vase.
