Byzantium

affairs. He does not overly burden you, I trust?'

'No, komes,' I answered, 'I am content.'

'King Harald does not begrudge someone else the use of his servant, I suppose?'

'Jarl Harald is pleased to have me help where I can. I feel certain he would complain if it were otherwise.'

'Good.' He looked at me a moment, as if trying to read my thoughts. 'You know, Aidan,' he continued, speaking as if he were confiding an intimacy, 'I have not forgotten your aid in helping bring the treacherous quaestor to justice. I have not forgotten that day.'

'Nor have I.'

'And I still cannot help wondering what moved you to do such a thing. It was no affair of yours certainly.'

'But it was, Komes Nikos,' I replied. 'It was my lord Harald's affair and I serve my lord.'

'And in serving your lord you gained the favour of my lord, and freedom for yourself, too. Yes?'

'But I am not free,' I pointed out. 'I am still a slave.'

'Yet you entertain hopes of freedom, I presume.'

'I do, komes,' I said, and added: 'It is a hope most slaves cherish.'

'You are to be commended for keeping this hope alive, friend Aidan.' Without raising his voice, or altering his speech in any way, his bearing had become threatening. 'If I may be so bold as to suggest, I can be of help to you, priest. I enjoy a certain influence where the emperor is concerned.'

'I will bear it in mind.'

'I am certain that you will.'

He left the kitchen then, and Flautus watched him go. When I looked at the cook, he averted his eyes and pretended not to listen. He began chopping the meat again, slamming the cleaver hard against the bone and gristle as if it were an enemy. I concluded my business there quickly, and hoped to avoid future discussions with Nikos.

When the preparations were complete, the invitation was sent to Amir Sadiq to come the next day after his evening prayers. The messenger returned with word of the amir's acceptance saying, 'He is bringing fifty of his men with him, and two wives.'

'Two wives?' wondered the eparch. 'I know nothing of his wives. Did he say anything more about them?'

'Only that they are to accompany him,' replied the messenger.

The next day, a little after sunset, the amir and his retinue arrived. Jarl Harald and forty of his best barbarians lined the street before the house, saluting the amir as he passed. I wondered who had taught them to do that, and guessed it must have been Nikos's idea. Upon reaching the doorway, King Harald himself opened the door for the amir to pass through.

Lord Sadiq entered the banqueting hall, followed by his own bodyguard of fifteen tall Sarazens carrying small round shields of silver, and long silver spears. In the centre of the ranks, surrounded by Sarazens, walked the two women-if women they were, for they were covered head to foot in long, flowing robes of pale yellow silk, veiled and wrapped so only their large dark eyes showed.

I was intrigued. Never had I seen women so captivating and so cosseted. Slender and graceful as willow wands, their robes glittering with golden threads, they moved with silent elegance, setting the air a-quiver with the gentle sound of tiny bells. I caught a fragrance as they passed-sweetly exotic, dry, but rich and full like that of a desert flower. The scent seemed to beckon, and my heart moved within me.

Aloof, yet near, they were very goddesses; close enough to touch, yet unreachable, they were vulnerable as lambs, surrounded by warrior guards bristling with lethal intent. It took all the strength at my command to turn my gaze from them lest I offend the amir. Even so, I stole glances whenever I might. Though I could not see their faces, I imagined such beauty and loveliness to accompany those fair forms as belong to angels, and my imaginings were far short of the mark, I know.

The Arabs were received with good grace by the eparch, who offered his hands as a sign of respect. The amir took the eparch's hands in his own and the two exchanged greetings. Nicephorus presented Sadiq with the gift of a gold neck chain, and three gold rings for each of the amir's wives. Each of the noblemen in the amir's retinue received a silver cup.

The amir bestowed gifts also. He summoned his servants who brought forth wooden chests. These were opened to reveal fine silk robes, alabaster jars of precious oils, and beautiful enamelled boxes; inside each box was a ruby. As these and other gifts were distributed, Sadiq presented Nicephorus with a purple silk robe of the kind much prized throughout Byzantium; it was edged in gold, and there were small golden crosses woven into the fabric. He also gave the eparch a sword of the kind his own bodyguard carried: silver, with a slender, curved blade.

I marvelled at the lavishness of the amir's gifts, even as I wondered at the reason behind it. The eparch's presents were fine and good, but the amir's were exquisite. Yet, if the eparch felt uncomfortable with the uneven exchange, he gave no sign.

After the formal acceptance of the gifts, the party sat down to the meal: the Byzantines to low couches, the Arabs to cushions on the floor. They watched one another warily across the narrow aisles along which the servants bore trays and platters of food. To describe the fare is to demean it, for words alone cannot suffice, but impart only the barest hint of the sumptuous feast served that night. As there was no one to say me otherwise, I joined in with a will. The meal was a rapture, every mouthful a delight from the small green, brine-soaked olives, to the honey- roasted quails. And the wine! As fragrant as balsam and light as a cloud, it filled the mouth with the freshness of fruit and the softness of a summer's night. The Arabs drank-not wine, but a sweet drink made from honey, spices, and water which Nikos had ordered to be prepared especially for them.

The grand worthies of Trebizond affected to seem unimpressed. They reclined on their couches and nibbled stoically from their knives as if it were a grim duty to dine on such handsome fare. I tell you the truth, it was a sin the way they behaved before the bounty of that table. But I more than made up for their transgressions; I know I did my best, relishing every morsel as only a grateful man can do.

Nicephorus and the amir sat together on cushions, the eparch having abandoned his customary couch in deference to his guest. Established on a low dais, the two overlooked the feast, surrounded by those of highest rank and privilege. Nikos was second to the eparch, followed by the magister and the spatharius, who both wore the expressions of men being forced to attend a grave-digging. Midway through the feast, Nikos rose and went out, returning a short while later followed by four men bearing a huge golden ewer on a carved wooden pallet. People exclaimed aloud at the appearance of this impossibly costly object; the hall rang with the acclaim.

Nikos led the servants through the centre of the hall and came to the foot of the dais. 'Emperor Basil sends his regards to the amir,' he said, speaking in a voice loud enough to be heard throughout the hall. 'He has asked me to deliver to you this ewer on his behalf, to be given to the caliph as a token of the high esteem with which he values his future friend.'

This pronouncement sent a flurry of quick-murmured whispers through the hall. Some men actually gaped in amazement at the generosity-not to say profligacy-of the gift; the cost was staggering.

At Nikos's command, the servants poured the specially prepared drink from the great ewer into silver pitchers with which other servants began filling the cups of the celebrants. When the last of the elixir had been poured, Nikos raised his cup and said, 'I drink to the health and long life of the emperor and the caliph, and to friendship and peace between our peoples!'

Everyone lifted high their cups and drank. And it was in that moment, when all were occupied, that there came a shout from the entry vestibule and into the hall rushed eight or ten men. Dressed in long black Sarazen robes, the lower portions of their faces covered; they dashed along the centre aisle, screaming and shouting, swords and spears flashing in the candlelight. Without the slightest hair of hesitation they seized the golden ewer and, before every eye, bore it off. Men struggled to their feet and attempted to bar the way, but the thieves had already made good their escape. Before anyone could act, the robbers and their prize had disappeared.

The eparch was stunned. The magister and spatharius stared in frozen amazement. The amir's colour deepened with shame and rage that men of his own race should perpetrate this brazen crime in the very house in which he was a guest. He stood at once and ordered his bodyguard to give chase, kill the thieves, and bring back the golden ewer. The Sarazens rose as one and took up their weapons.