But Nikos prevented them. He held up his hands and called out. 'Please! Please! Be seated. I beg you please be seated. They are gone; no one has been hurt. There is no cause for alarm. The true crime would be if we allowed these robbers to interrupt our enjoyment of this feast. Therefore, I beg you: take no thought for what has happened here tonight. It is nothing-a trifle only. Do not be dismayed.'
He turned to the servants who still stood with the silver pitchers in their hands. He summoned the nearest to him and spoke a word in his ear. The servant signalled the others and they all went out.
'My friends,' said Nikos, 'return to your pleasure. Let it be as if nothing has happened.' He flung out his arm and pointed to the hall entrance where the servants had once more appeared, bearing an even larger ewer than the one that had been stolen. 'You see!' he cried. 'No ill has befallen this night. The largesse of the emperor is all sufficient. Enjoy! Enjoy!'
If the sight of the first ewer amazed and delighted the banqueters, the sight of the second silenced them with astonishment. Even so, I could read their thoughts as if they were written on their faces: How was it possible that two such objects should exist? And could they both be given to the caliph? The magnitude of expense! Only a god can afford to bestow such gifts!
More sweet drink was poured from the second ewer and carried through the hall to refill the cups. Nikos renewed his pledges of good will, and slowly the banquet resumed, but with much more interest than before.
The next day, the whole city bubbled with the excitement of the bold robbery, and how the quick-thinking komes had saved the honour of the amir with his extraordinary gesture. An act of true nobility, they called it; largesse on an unprecedented scale. The magister and spatharius were busy morning to night spreading word of the robbery, and a reward was quickly offered for the capture of the thieves and the return of the ewer.
Only the eparch appeared ill-pleased with the komes's behaviour in the affair. I found him just after midday in the room he used for holding council. 'Eparch,' I said, moving to where he sat, fists balled on the arms of his chair, 'you asked me to tell you when Nikos returned. He is here now.'
'Tell him I wish to see him at once.'
I turned and started away, but Komes Nikos came sweeping in the door at that moment, full of zeal and assurances. 'We will find the ewer, never fear,' he said. 'I have men searching throughout the city. I have every confidence that it will soon be returned.'
'What of the dignity of our guests?' demanded the eparch. 'Will that also be returned?'
'You are aggrieved, eparch,' observed Nikos. 'I assure you, I am doing all to resolve this unfortunate incident.'
'I am aggrieved,' replied the eparch tartly. 'I am angry. The offence to our guests was unpardonable. The amir was gracious enough to accept my assurances that the matter would be most seriously pursued.'
'So it is,' the komes said. 'You have my every pledge. The perpetrators shall be apprehended and brought to justice. If you will heed a word of counsel, I think you put too much trust in the Danes. They are the ones who should be held responsible for this. If not for their negligence, this crime would not have been committed.'
'How so?' demanded Nicephorus. 'They remained at their posts throughout-exactly as you placed them. Even the slaves say no one entered or left the house once the Danes had taken their positions. I think we must look elsewhere for the perpetrators.'
Nikos started to object, but the eparch dismissed him with an exasperated flick of his hand. 'You may go, Komes Nikos,' he said. 'Go and give your assurances to the magister and his monkey. I am certain they will be more easily persuaded. Go! Leave me. I wish to think.'
The komes affected offence at this brusque treatment. 'If I have displeased you in some way, eparch, I am sorry. I would only remind you that it is, after all, a most delicate and unusual situation. We must proceed with all caution and circumspection.'
'Yes, yes. I am certain of it,' he replied, his irritation increasing. 'Go then, cautiously and circumspectly, by all means. But go.'
Nikos stalked from the room. The eparch watched him go, and then said, 'You heard him, Aidan?'
'Yes, eparch.'
'He said the ewer would soon be returned. I wonder where they will find it-in the kitchen, or in the stable?'
'Eparch?'
'He is dirty with this. I know it.' Turning to me, he said, 'Thank you, Aidan. You may go. I am tired. I will lie down now.'
He rose wearily from his chair and walked to the door, paused, and said, 'Can I trust you, Aidan?'
'I hope you can,' I told him.
'Then I will tell you something,' he said, motioning me to him. As I stepped near, he placed a fatherly hand on my shoulder-the gesture reminded me of Abbot Fraoch. Putting his mouth to my ear, he whispered, 'Beware the komes, Aidan. He has marked you for an enemy.'
This did in no way surprise me. Still, I said, 'I believe you, eparch. But why should he think me an enemy?'
He offered a thin, mirthless smile. 'Because you have penetrated his duplicity. Discovery is what he fears most of all; it is the one thing treachery cannot abide.'
40
The golden ewer came to light a day or two later-found, they said, in a ditch outside the city walls. It was undamaged, for the most part, save for a dent in one side, and a bent handle which looked as if someone had tried to pull it off. King Harald growled when I told him of the treasure's recovery. 'It was dropped where they knew to find it,' he snarled.
The jarl had taken a sour view of the event from the beginning. He held that the theft impugned his honour and that of his men, and insisted the raid had been created solely to disgrace him. 'There were no thieves,' he argued. 'Once the amir arrived, no one entered or left the hall. No one came near.'
'Perhaps the thieves were already inside the house,' I suggested. 'Perhaps they were hiding.'
'Heya,' he agreed. 'The thieves were inside the house. That is so. On Thor's beard, the jar was never stolen.'
'But I saw it. I was there. They rushed in and took it.'
'Nay,' he replied, his voice a low rumble. 'Did you ever hear of a thief parting with such a treasure once he had it in his hands? I never did.'
'Maybe they feared pursuit,' I suggested. 'They hid it in the ditch and hoped to come back for it later-when no one was looking.'
The barbarian king shook his head firmly. 'The time when no one was looking was when they threw it away,' the jarl replied, and I was forced to admit that in matters of stolen treasure, his knowledge and experience were far superior to mine.
Gunnar and Tolar had their own views. 'Who profited from the theft?' Gunnar asked pointedly. 'Find that man, and you have caught the thief.'
In the event, those responsible for the supposed raid were never found; and, since the ewer was recovered, the search was halted and speculation ceased. Interest turned instead to the peace talks between the eparch and the amir which commenced a few days later. They alternated meeting places, sometimes within the city, and sometimes in the Arab camp. Sometimes the magister and certain prominent citizens took part, sometimes various merchants from Constantinople, and sometimes only the eparch and amir alone but for their interpreters and advisors. I also attended a few of these discussions, but found them exceedingly dull.
Winter deepened around us all the while; the days, though chill and often damp, were never cold. Nor did it snow, except for the high tops of the mountains far to the north and east. Sometimes, a southern wind would stir the leafless branches and the day would be almost warm. Even so, with the approach of the Christ Mass, Trebizond began to shake off some of its seasonal lethargy. I noticed a steady stream of newcomers arriving in the city. When I remarked on this to one of the merchants-who, by virtue of having traded gemstone and marble in Trebizond for twenty years, was sometimes included in the eparch's delegation-I was told this was but a trickle that would
