Byzantium

'It is never weakness to show good will toward those one hopes to persuade,' replied Nicephorus gently. 'The amir will recognize the generosity of our acceptance, and consider it accordingly.' The eparch raised an admonitory finger. 'These Arabs are a proud race; they do not willingly allow themselves to remain in debt or obligation to anyone. You would do well to remember this.'

'Of course, eparch.' Nikos inclined his head in a stiff bow and withdrew. I did not see him again until the next day when we assembled the party that was to greet Amir Sadiq-and then I saw why: Nikos had arranged, at considerable pains, for a number of horse-drawn chariots to take us to the Arab camp.

Eparch Nicephorus emerged from the house, took one look at the long line of chariots awaiting us in the street, and said, 'Send them away, Nikos. Send them away! We will walk to the amir's camp.'

Blinking in disbelief, the komes said, 'Walk? With all respect, eparch, we cannot be seen to walk.'

'Why not?' asked the eparch lightly. 'People walk here and there about the earth, their business to perform. This I have seen myself, and, try as I might, find no shame in it.'

'But the magister and the officials-they will deem it improper and undignified to walk.'

'I was not aware that we were trying to impress the magister and his minions with our exalted position.'

'Eparch, please, I would not have expected you to adopt this tone. Believe me, I care as little as you for the opinion of the magister. But it is the amir's opinion we must consider now.'

'Then let me reassure you,' said Nicephorus, 'it is my sole consideration.'

'No less than mine, eparch-'

'Is it?' The eparch's voice became firm, and his eye keen. 'I do wonder, Nikos.' Dismissing the matter, he said, 'But never mind. The amir is waiting; let us depart. Bring the gifts.'

Nicephorus started off down the street alone. Nikos watched him for a moment, and I saw the rage welling up within him; he all but shook with fury. Then, as quickly as it had flared, he forced the anger down again. Turning quickly, he signalled Harald to send the bodyguard ahead.

The magister, waiting a little distance apart with a group of city officials, came forward then. 'I see the eparch has changed his mind,' he said, watching the lanky old man striding down the street.

'Unfortunately, yes,' agreed Nikos with seeming reluctance. 'I fear we must accustom ourselves to his unpredictable humours.'

That was all he said, but the doubt sown with those few words would quickly grow to a sizeable crop.

By the time our party reached Trebizond's eastern gate, Nikos had arranged us in well-ordered ranks, reclaiming some semblance of the pomp he had hoped to inspire. Passing through the gate, we crossed the ditch bridge and proceeded in procession towards the camp. Seeing that we approached on foot, Amir Sadiq mounted a welcome party and met us on the way.

I will never forget the sight of him, sitting on his fine grey horse, dressed all in white, dazzling in the pale winter sunlight. He reined in his mount, slipped from the saddle in a single, fluid motion, and advanced open-handed to greet the eparch. The caliph's envoy was not a big man, but he exuded an air of such dignity and dominion that he seemed to tower over all around him. He was lithe, rather than muscled, and moved with the grace and subtlety of a cat.

Though they had never met before, the amir strode directly to Nicephorus and bowed. He said something in Arabic which sounded like, Al il'allah, and then, without the least hesitation said, 'Greetings in the name of the Great al'Mutamid, by All Wise Allah, Khalifa of the Abbasids. I am J'Amal Sadiq, Amir of the Abbasid Sarazens, and I welcome you to my camp.'

The eparch inclined his head in acknowledgement of the salutation. 'Greetings, Amir Sadiq. In the name of the most noble Basil, by the grace of God, Elect of Heaven, Co-Regent of Christ on Earth, Emperor of the Romans, I welcome you,' replied the eparch. 'I am your servant, Nicephorus.'

'You must now forgive me, Eparch Nicephorus,' said the amir, 'I have exhausted my small store of Greek words. From now on I will employ the aid of my advisor.' Raising his hands, he clapped them twice, and said, 'Faysal!'

A young man, only slightly older than myself, appeared beside his master as if out of nowhere. I recognized him at once as the messenger who had brought the invitation the previous day. Bowing low, Faysal proceeded to relate the words of his master to the Greek-speakers present. Facing one another, eparch and amir traded additional greetings and salutations for a time, including those of the lesser officials of both sides in their turn. They then exchanged gifts: gold armbands for the amir, and a gold bowl for the eparch.

'It is our custom,' said J'Amal Sadiq through his interpreter, 'to take refreshment at this time of day. I would deem it the greatest of honours if you would consent to join me in my tent.'

'The honour, Amir Sadiq, would be ours entirely,' replied the eparch. 'But we could not consider setting foot inside your tent without extracting from you a promise to dine with us another day.'

'Most certainly,' answered the amir. 'I will await the day with enormous anticipation.'

The delegation then proceeded to the tent, which stood centermost in the midst of the camp. As Harald was to remain outside the tent with his barbarian guardsmen, I took my place beside him to wait, thinking that would be as close as I would get to the proceedings. But, as the eparch stepped to the entrance of the tent, he half-turned, looked around him-noting the magister and spatharius, Nikos, and the others making up his party-then saw me standing with Harald. 'You there! Priest!' he called, more gruffly than was usual when no one else was near. 'Come here. You will attend me.'

'We do not need him,' said Nikos quickly. 'Let the slave remain outside with the barbarians where he belongs.'

Turning on Nikos suddenly, almost fiercely, the eparch charged, 'Do you speak Arabic?'

'You know I do not,' answered Nikos, frowning at the question. 'But-'

'Then you need bother yourself no further with my decision,' replied the eparch archly. Turning once more to me, he said, 'Follow me.'

I saw the komes's eyes narrow as I stepped past him. Once inside the tent, I confessed: 'Eparch, I do not speak Arabic.' I whispered so as not to be overheard.

'Do you not?' he wondered absently, and spoke in such a way that I could not tell if he knew this fact before I told him, or not. 'Never mind, it makes no difference.'

Altogether, the delegation made a party numbering close to thirty, with another fifteen or so Arabs in attendance. The tent held us all, and with room to spare. We sat on the floor, but that is not to say we sat on the ground. No; for the ground, which had been but grass and dirt, was now transformed into a patchwork of brilliant colour, owing to the Arab habit of flooring their tents with thick-woven lengths of cloth of the most striking design and colour-every colour known to the weaver's art, in fact. The effect of these coverings, or rugs, was to bewitch the eye, even as their design delighted the intellect. Along with the rugs, which formed a handsome floor, there were cushions for leaning or sitting upon-all of which made for as comfortable and satisfactory a shelter as I have encountered anywhere.

When we had all assembled inside the tent, the amir ordered the refreshment to be served. This he accomplished without uttering a word; a simple clap of his hands, and immediately, a dozen servants appeared bearing silver platters, each dish larger than the last, and each containing foods the like of which I had never seen. The biggest platter held a whole roast lamb and required the strength of two slaves to carry it.

The platters were placed within reach of the guests on low wooden tripods, whereupon the servants retreated, only to be replaced by others bearing silver jars and trays of silver cups. A hot drink was poured out and the cups distributed to one and all, myself included. Taking his cup, the amir raised it, spoke a brief burst of Arabic, and then drank; the rest of us followed his example, placing our lips to the rim to sip the steaming liquid, which tasted of flowers and honey. It was hot and sweet, but refreshing for that.

The amir then showed us how to dip from the platters, holding our sleeves with the left hand and using the fingers of the right hand to select the choice morsels. Some of the delegation from Trebizond grumbled at this manner of eating, begrudging the lack of knives; they picked among the platters like fastidious birds, none too courteous in their comments, nor over concerned, it seemed to me, with offending their host. But Nicephorus behaved regally, licking his fingers and smacking his lips in appreciation of the delicacies before him. For delicacies they were, of that I have no doubt.

For his part, Amir Sadiq professed himself delighted that the eparch should enjoy himself so. Several times, he chose out a particular tid-bit and gave it to the eparch. This, I quickly learned, was a gesture of friendship; to be