he knew, someone was tugging him out of sleep.
It was almost dark in the tent and for a moment he didn’t know where he was. One of the assistants was offering him a hot drink. He remembered the falcon and saw that the table was empty. The hawk-master emerged from the shadows and pointed towards one of the hawk pens. The falcon sat hooded on a block, illuminated by a single lamp. Wayland tottered to his feet and went over. The Seljuks had repaired every single flight feather and coped her talons and beak so that she looked almost as perfect as the day he’d first set eyes on her. As Wayland began to thank the falconers, a wave of emotion swamped him and he wept.
The Seljuks turned away to hide their embarrassment and when he’d regained control the hawkmaster encouraged him to drink. The cup contained a spicy infusion that cleared his head and warmed his stomach. He realised that night had fallen and that he must have slept since noon. One of the assistants brought him a basin and a ewer of hot water. The clothes he’d bought for Lord Vasili’s feast lay clean on his bed and the hawkmaster indicated that he must change into them for his audience with the Emir. They left him to his toilet. The clothes he discarded were so stiff with filth that they stood up on their own. He washed his hands and face and combed his tangled hair. While he was dressing, a Seljuk put his head through the entrance and announced that the Emir had summoned them. The hawkmaster waved him away.
He studied Wayland and decided that he’d pass muster. Then he walked over to the hooded falcon and bent to pick her up. He untied her leash and was reaching out for her when he had a change of mind. Slipping off his glove, he slid it onto Wayland’s hand.
‘Thank you,’ said Wayland. ‘We’ve come a long way together.’
Hero stood with Vallon and Drogo in the Emir’s throne room, a spacious and richly carpeted chamber at the centre of the golden pavilion. A line of guards faced them. More guards stood behind them. A dozen braziers and a hundred oil lamps fogged the atmosphere. Timpani rolled and a trumpet blew. The guards pulled themselves to attention. Out from one of the chamber’s two entrances strode an officer followed by half a dozen officials wearing high pointed hats and silk gowns with dangling sleeves. They took up positions behind the throne. The roll of drums drew nearer.
‘Prostrate yourselves,’ said one of the officials in Arabic.
With his forehead on the carpeted floor, Hero caught a glimpse of the Emir’s entrance. A small spare man with the bandy legs of someone who’d spent most of his life in the saddle. Almond eyes and a thin moustache. Like a lynx.
Suleyman seated himself cross-legged on a cushioned dais under a silk canopy.
‘You may stand,’ said the official.
Hero’s joints creaked as he climbed upright. A retainer held out a tray to the Emir. Suleyman took from it a bulb of raw garlic and began eating it, peeling each clove and dropping the skins into a dish held by another retainer. One of his officials spoke into his ear. He smiled — or seemed to smile. Hero couldn’t fathom what was going on behind those feline eyes.
The silk canopy rippled in a draught. The Seljuks leaned, looking at something behind Hero. He risked a glance and saw an elderly man guiding Wayland forward, whispering instructions. The falconer carried the haggard on his right hand and seemed apprehensive. When he saw Hero he mouthed a question: ‘Is Syth all right?’
‘She’s fine,’ Hero whispered from behind his hand. ‘She’s in the women’s quarters with Caitlin. Kneel and bow before the Emir, touching your forehead to the ground.’
When Wayland had made his awkward obeisance, the Arabic-speaking official stepped forward. He was a fleshy individual attired in sumptuous silks, adorned with expensive jewellery and wearing an air of massive self- importance.
‘I am Faruq al-Hasan-al-Baghdadi, Chief Secretary to his Excel — lency.’ He pointed a hand winking with jewels in Hero’s direction. ‘Step forward.’
Oddly enough, Hero felt less nervous than he had when delivering the ransom terms to Count Olbec. He bowed to the Emir. ‘Peace to you, Lord. Your Excellency’s health is good by the grace of God?
Faruq translated Suleyman’s languid wave. ‘His Eminence is strong in body and keen of mind, thanks be to almighty God. Be so good as to address your answers to me. Now then, state your purpose in coming here.’
Suleyman already knew. Hero decided that this audience served only to satisfy the Emir’s curiosity or reveal the character of his guests. He chose his words with care. ‘His Excellency will remember his generous dealings with Cosmas, the Greek traveller who undertook to raise a ransom for Sir Walter, one of his Excellency’s prisoners captured during the Seljuks’ great victory at Manzikert. Alas, Cosmas died soon after reaching Italy, charging me with his last breath to continue the mission. I was too young and weak to complete the task, but providence led me to this man here, Vallon, who agreed to help me reach our goal. Under his brave leadership, we travelled to the wildest corners of the world to obtain the white falcons desired by his Excellency.’
The Emir pulled Faruq’s sleeve and spoke into his ear. Faruq nodded and turned towards Hero. ‘Are the Frank and the Norman prisoner former comrades in arms?’
Hero hesitated. ‘No. They’ve never met.’
‘Then why did he embark on this undertaking?’
Vallon had learned enough Arabic in Spain to be able to follow the exchanges. ‘Tell him I did it for money. Keep it simple or we’ll be here all night.’
The Emir mulled over this reply and Faruq voiced his concerns. ‘His Excellency is puzzled that your expedition was commanded not by the prisoner’s brother, but by a mercenary who has never laid eyes on Walter. Furthermore, his Excellency cannot help observing that while the Frankish captain’s bearing suggests a man at ease with himself, Walter’s brother seems to have drunk from the cup of bitter sorrow.’
‘The two captains are men of different temperaments. Drogo’s melancholy is caused by deep concern over his brother’s fate. He’s-’
Vallon cut him off. ‘Don’t lie. They’ll find you out and it will count against us.’
Hero nodded. He was sweating. He took a breath and gave a neutral response. ‘We’ve been travelling for more than a year. During that time we’ve received no news from civilised lands. Cosmas assured me his Excellency treated Sir Walter generously. Can I assume that under the Emir’s protection, he still lives?’
‘No harm has come to him.’
‘Has he been told of our arrival?’
‘No.’
‘When will we be allowed to see him?’
‘That’s for his Excellency to decide. It’s disrespectful to ask so many questions. The details of your journey can wait. Tell the young man with the yellow hair to show his Excellency the falcon.’
Hero sat down with relief. Wayland’s escort led him forward and turned him this way and that so that the Emir could study the gyrfalcon from every angle. He ordered the hawkmaster to unhood her. She gripped the glove and fanned her wings, creating a draught that extinguished a dozen lamps and made the silk hangings billow. The hawkmaster slipped her hood back on and transferred her to the Emir. Suleyman held her up with a grin and spoke with animation to his entourage. At last he passed the falcon back and his features settled into immobility. Faruq straightened.
‘Where are the other falcons?’
‘Alas, they died. We left the northlands with eight. It was a long and dreadful journey and one by one they sickened.’
‘The ransom stipulated two casts.’
‘And that’s what we intended to deliver. It’s a matter of deep regret that we were unable to satisfy the terms to the letter. Perhaps his Excellency will view the deficiency less harshly when he learns that the falcon has been brought at the cost of men’s lives. Of the original company who set out on the quest, three are dead, including my dearest friend, Sir Walter’s youngest brother. We have faced great perils. Many times we considered giving up. Instead, we stayed true to our task, confident that his Excellency would reward our efforts with magnanimity.’
Ash rustled in a brazier. Suleyman picked his teeth. He held out his cupped hands. One of his attendants filled them with water from a bronze aquamanile cast in the form of a lion. The Emir rinsed his hands and the attendant towelled them dry.
‘His Excellency will consider what you have said and deliver his judgement tomorrow.’
