he saw that I enjoyed the proceedings. Very soon, I found myself acting as Nicephorus's personal servant. Indeed, the eparch took pity on my shabby appearance and bought me some new clothes: a grey cloak, breecs, and a long mantle of pale green and a siarc to go with it-plain, but all finely made and handsome for that. 'The eparch would not have you mistaken for a beggar,' said the servant who brought me the clothes.
Harald, already unhappy with our enforced separation, did not like this, and told me so. 'It is not right. I will speak to the jarl eparch, and tell him he must get his own slave, or pay me for the use of mine.'
'You must do that, of course, Jarl Harald,' I agreed. 'However, there might be some value in sitting so close to the eparch's chair.'
He regarded me with a suspicious glare. 'What do you mean?'
'The eparch is a man of authority; he has great power and influence with the emperor. A well-placed slave might learn much to his master's advantage while serving such a man,' I argued.
The suggestion appealed to Harald, as it placed him at the heart of events once more. He had, by his own admission, begun finding guard duty slightly tedious, and had recently been thinking how he might make more of his position. Insofar as serving the eparch allowed me to report to the jarl items of interest he might not otherwise have learned, Harald was more than happy that my service should continue.
Nikos, however, took a rather different view. The inflection of his voice, the guarded glance of his eye, the trifling slight-indeed, in every one of a hundred tiny ways, the komes gave me to know that he thought the situation improper and unacceptable. But, since the eparch could do as he pleased, I remained privy to many of the ensuing deliberations.
In this way, I came to know the eparch very well, and to respect his deep knowledge and even deeper sagacity. Sure, I have met many intelligent men, but never one so widely read on so many diverse subjects; his learning admitted no impediment. I also found him to be an astute judge of men, as he had said-a fact which no one else seemed to appreciate.
More and more often, I found myself standing behind the eparch's chair when he met with this official delegation, or that group of merchants. Harald, as I say, tolerated my attendance at these preliminary councils, so long as I conveyed to him afterwards something to his benefit. He questioned me closely whenever we were alone, more often than not asking exceptionally perceptive questions about the various matters discussed-always paying special attention to travel routes and borders, the strength of various local tribes, and so forth.
But, I race ahead of myself. The caliph's envoy did not arrive in the city until twenty days later, and we did not meet him for seven days after that. All of which gave me a long, unobstructed view of friend Nikos; and what I saw confirmed what Justin had said of the seemingly loyal, devoted courtier: here was a ruthless and dangerous man.
38
The Amir J'Amal Sadiq arrived twenty days after our own landing, as I say; he approached the city on horseback, leading a retinue of noblemen, slaves, and other servants numbering well into the hundreds, along with herds of sheep, cattle, and horses. Receiving word of his approach, Nikos dispatched the imperial bodyguard to the city gate to escort the Arabs into the city.
The amir advanced at the head of his company directly to the shadow of the gate, then stopped. His was the first Arabian face I had ever seen, and it seemed to me the visage of a bird of prey: sharp featured, lordly, proud. His skin was dark brown; his eyes, hair, and beard were deepest black. He wore white: from the top of his head, wrapped in a long winding cloth called a turban, to the soles of his feet, encased in fine white leather boots. The brightness of his snow-white clothing against the darkness of his skin and hair made for a striking appearance.
The envoy did not enter the city that first day; instead, he sent a messenger to beg of the magister permission to occupy the flat land at the river's edge below the city's eastern rampart, for the Arabs would not stay within the city, but insisted on erecting their tents outside the walls. Tents, yes, but not crude skin structures stretched with rope over poles; they were as far from that as mud huts from a palace. The tents of the amir were made of cloth woven of a multitude of colours, and most had multiple rooms within.
They raised these tents on the banks of the river which passed beside the city, and there they remained for three days without stirring from the camp. And then, early in the morning on the fourth day, a messenger from the camp appeared at the door of the eparch's palace bearing a small blue-enamelled box.
As it chanced, Nikos was in the city and the eparch was breaking fast in the courtyard; the first people the messenger encountered were the ten barbarians Nikos insisted stand guard every moment of the day and night. Not knowing anything else to do, they called me to speak to the man. Since Constantinople, the Sea Wolves had come to value me as a mediator between them and the Greek-speakers, who they thought spoke gibberish. As they could not make themselves known to anyone else, the bodyguard at the door came to me. 'A man has come, Aeddan,' said the Dane named Sig.
I went outside to meet an Arab on a pale, sand-coloured horse. Seeing that I was but a slave, he dispensed with the formal salutation, and said simply, 'May the peace of Allah be upon you. I bring greetings in the name of my master the amir.' The messenger spoke in precise, unhesitating Greek and asked if the time were convenient to speak to the eparch.
'If you would come with me,' I replied, 'I will take you to him.'
Sliding from the saddle, he followed me, walking a pace behind and to the right. I brought him to the courtyard where he greeted the eparch more formally, apologized for disturbing his meal, and placed the blue box in the eparch's hands, saying, 'A gift from Lord Sadiq, who will be pleased to receive the eparch tomorrow at the hour he finds most felicitous.'
'Please tell your master that I would be delighted to attend him. I will come at midday.'
'As you will.' Raising his hands shoulder high, palm outwards, the messenger bowed once, and departed without another word.
The eparch was in the habit of eating his first meal of the day alone at a small table in the courtyard; sometimes a brazier was placed beside the table to take the chill from the morning air. Though the sunlight was thin and the days were not warm, with or without the brazier's fire he preferred the open air of the courtyard to any other room. When the messenger departed, I turned to leave him in peace. Putting out a hand to me, he said, 'Stay, Aidan. We will see what the amir has sent me.'
I took my accustomed place beside his chair and asked, 'What is this 'hour' of which he spoke?'
Eparch Nicephorus turned in his seat and addressed me as a teacher might an esteemed pupil. 'Ah!' he said, extending his forefinger to the sky above. 'The Arabs conceive of the day as divided into twelve courses-a wheel of twelve spokes, you see-each corresponding to one of the zodiacal phases. It is their belief that the sun passes through these twelve phases as it moves through the day. They hold each division to contain the aspect most favourable for various activities, and do nothing without first consulting the heavens in order to determine the best course for any action they contemplate.'
The Arabs then were extending the same courtesy to the eparch which they themselves expected. The eparch understood this, and he appreciated the nobility behind it. Laying aside his plate, he took up the enamelled box and opened it; inside was a single diamond the size of a wren's egg lying in a nest of red silk. Removing the gem, he held it before him, turning it in the morning sun. It glittered hard fire in the yet dim light of the courtyard.
Nikos appeared at that moment, saw us talking, and stiffened. His smile was once more in place by the time he reached the table. 'I see the greeting has come at last,' he said, indicating the blue box with its costly gem.
'The amir will receive us tomorrow,' the eparch said. 'We will go to him at midday, I think. They consider that propitious.'
'With all respect, eparch,' replied Nikos stiffly, 'would it not be better to summon them to attend us here- and at a time of our choosing? We should not be seen to obey their summons.'
'It is a fine point you raise,' allowed the eparch, 'but inappropriate to the particular circumstance.'
'On the contrary,' said Nikos, 'it is most pertinent. With respect, eparch, I would not like our leniency to be misconstrued as vacillation or weakness. We should command them to attend us-not the other way around.'
