Byzantium

think.'

'I am most grateful to you,' I said. 'Without your intervention I would have died. My life is yours, Lord Sadiq.'

'Allah makes some men of iron, others of grass,' the amir replied lightly. 'You, I think, are the first material. Now, if you will excuse me, I have exhausted my small supply of Greek. Farouk will convey your words to me, if you agree.'

I conceded readily, and remembered that Sadiq had deprecated his Greek-speaking abilities upon meeting the eparch. I watched as he began heaping food into small brass bowls, and thought that perhaps the subtle amir spoke Greek much more fluently and skilfully than he let on. Certainly, he understood more than he allowed. I wondered why he should pretend otherwise.

He placed his hand on my arm, and spoke to me a long burst of their tongue-twisting speech. Farouk, dipping a square of flat bread into a bowl containing a creamy white mixture, listened for a moment, and then said, 'The amir says that he is sincerely glad you have survived your ordeal. He knows that you will be concerned about your position in his household, but wishes you to remain at ease in this regard. Later, when you are feeling stronger, there will be time to give this important matter the consideration it deserves. Until then, however, you are considered merely a guest under his roof.'

'I thank you,' I replied, speaking through Farouk. 'Your thoughtfulness is laudable. Again, I am in your debt, Lord Sadiq.'

The amir seemed happy with this reply-or with the one which Farouk relayed to him; I suppose it amounted to the same thing. Sadiq regarded me with a directness and an intensity of interest, eating olives and spitting the pits discreetly into his curled fist, nodding to himself from time to time. I ate from the bowl before me, too much aware of his scrutiny to taste much of what I was eating.

'When last we met it was in the company of the eparch,' he said, speaking through Farouk. 'I have been told that he is dead. If this is true, I am sorry.'

'It is true,' I answered, my voice going flat; I felt the heat of hatred stirring within. 'We were ambushed on the road. Eparch Nicephorus died in the attack, and two hundred or more were slaughtered with him.'

'It is a shameful thing which has befallen you,' replied the amir gravely; Farouk gave me his words: 'As I believe you to be a trustworthy man, I ask you to trust me when I tell you that I had nothing to do with the contemptible ambush. Nor, to the best of my knowledge, did any other Sarazen tribe. This I believe, for I have made it my affair to discover the truth of this incident from the moment I learned of it. Nevertheless, the truth is ever elusive, and I have yet to obtain it in full.'

He watched me while Farouk spoke, measuring my response. When I made no reply, he said, 'What can you tell us about the ambush?'

'We were travelling to Sebastea and were attacked by Sarazens,' I told him bluntly. 'We were more than two hundred-including merchants and the eparch's bodyguard. The enemy came upon us as we slept. Only a handful survived.'

Sadiq nodded gravely, and Farouk conveyed his next question to me, 'Why do you think they were Sarazens?'

'They were dressed in Arab clothing,' I replied, casting my mind back to that hateful day. 'Though it is true they spoke a tongue I had not heard before, I saw no reason to believe they were not what they appeared.'

'Now, if I may ask, why were you going to Sebastea?'

'The eparch had received a letter from Governor Honorius claiming that the caliph practised treachery upon us and would not honour the peace which Amir Sadiq and the eparch had agreed.'

Sadiq made a lengthy reply, which Farouk translated: 'This letter was certainly a lie. For reasons you cannot know, the khalifa is most desirous of honouring the peace agreement. Even now he looks with great anticipation to the day when he and the emperor meet face to face to exchange bonds of good faith.' He stared at me intently, almost willing me to believe him. 'But that need not concern us at this moment.'

'Eparch Nicephorus did not believe the letter;' I told him as the memory came back to me, 'he thought it a ruse.'

'Yet, he proceeded to Sebastea regardless. Why do you think he did that if he believed the letter a deception?'

'I cannot say,' I replied. 'It may be that he felt he could not risk taking a chance. Or, it may be that he thought that going to Sebastea was the best way to prove the letter false and, perhaps, catch the real traitor. Whatever the reason, I know he suspected treachery-not from the caliph, perhaps, but certainly from some other. He knew the governor as a friend; and he could tell from the letter that, though it was in Honorius's hand, the information it contained was false.'

After Farouk had relayed my words, the amir mused upon them for a little time, then asked, 'Did Eparch Nicephorus tell you who he suspected of fomenting this treachery?'

'No, lord; he never did,' I answered. 'But I have reason to believe that it was Komes Nikos. You might remember him as the eparch's aide.'

Sadiq's eyes narrowed at the name. 'I remember him. This would be a most serious breach of trust for such a man,' he cautioned through Farouk, 'and a most serious accusation for one to make against another.'

'I do not make it lightly, or without just cause,' I answered. 'Two hundred or more people were slaughtered in the ambush, and the few who survived are slaves now; Nikos alone escaped-indeed, he fled the camp on horseback before the attack commenced. And, if that alone were not cause enough, the eparch's expedition was not the first organized by Nikos to end in catastrophe.'

The amir wondered at this, so I explained briefly about the pilgrimage, and how my brother monks had come to grief acting on Nikos's counsel and following his guidance. When I had finished, Sadiq conceded, 'This puts the matter in a most revealing light. But please tell me,' he continued, 'do your brother priests yet live?'

'Three only are left alive,' I answered. 'They are slaves in the same silver mine to which we were sold.'

'That is also highly suggestive,' the amir remarked through his interpreter. 'I discern the shape of a single hand in this disastrous series of events. And I believe you have correctly identified the owner of that hand.' His smile was quick and sly. 'We, too, have our spies, my friend,' he explained. 'And what you have told me confirms much of what I have discovered since learning of the ambush and the eparch's death.'

He then stood up and clapped his hands twice, quickly and loud. Instantly, a young man appeared, bowed, and approached. The amir spoke to him very rapidly for a moment, whereupon the young man bowed again and departed, his face impassive. 'The amir is sending a messenger to the khalifa,' Farouk told me.

Amir Sadiq sat down once more, and took up a brass pitcher which sat on a tripod over a candle flame; he poured three tiny cups of steaming liquid, and passed one each to Farouk and me. Raising his cup, he threw back his head and drank it down in a single swallow. I did likewise, and found it a sweet, yet refreshing brew. He then selected a small seeded bread loaf, which he broke in three parts, giving a portion to each of us. We ate for a time, listening to the play of the water outside. When the amir addressed me once more, Farouk translated his words thus:

'I am mindful that you have suffered much on account of affairs that were not of your making,' he said. 'Still, peace is every man's concern, just as war is every man's curse. You have acquitted yourself with admirable courage through the ill that has befallen you. For this, I commend you highly.

'When word of the ambush reached me, I began searching for any survivors, hoping to find at least one who could tell me what had taken place. You must forgive me for not finding you sooner; the khalifa's slaves are many, and it was not known to which master the survivors, if any, might have been sold. You can be sure that I was as pitiless in my search as the blazing noonday sun. Not even the shadows remained where I had passed!

'The treachery, about which the governor's letter warned, truly exists I fear. But it is not on the part of the khalifa. This I can demonstrate most convincingly, but for now please accept my assurance that it is so. From what you have told me, added to what I have already learned, it seems likely, if not completely undisputed, that the Komes Nikos is acting in alliance with an Armenian faction within Arab borders. As to the attack, I am persuaded that no Sarazens were involved. Those who attacked you were Armenians.'

I suppose my dull-witted incomprehension was obvious; Sadiq, studying my reaction, nodded slowly, and then said something very fast to Farouk, who said, 'The amir asks you to accept this supposition-for the present at least.'