guards.
‘The guards are trustworthy, but if it pleases you we can communicate in this way and they cannot understand us,’ said the chamberlain in Latin.
‘The master?’ said Loys in the same language.
‘He only knows a little of my purpose.’
‘I am ready to serve.’ Loys bowed and then bowed again, against himself. He wanted to show respect but he didn’t want to look like a serf.
‘I have a problem,’ said the chamberlain, ‘and you are its solution. Dark forces are at work in this city. The emperor himself is under magical attack and has been tempted by demons.’
‘This was the savage who broke through to the emperor’s tent?’
‘Hardly. Lazy guards rather than magic, I think. No more than a madman wanting alms, whatever the gossip you might here to the contrary.’
‘I’m glad there was no attempt on the emperor’s life.’
‘The emperor has more to fear than deranged men and drunken guards. This is much more serious.’
Loys kept his eyes forward, determined to show no reaction that could spark the chamberlain’s disapproval.
‘Furthermore, there is reason to suspect certain other high men face these assaults. Some may even lose their position because of them. Putting it straightforwardly, the emperor has been afflicted in the body, so he may also be attacked in his humours and attitudes. No one in this empire can afford Basileios to come under the sway of evil forces.’
‘No,’ said Loys.
‘The master says you are his best student. I need you to set out clearly for me the nature of magical attacks and how they might be countered.’
‘The solution is plain for Christian men, sir. By prayer.’
‘We have tried that and to no avail. Christ clearly wants us to take another course. This is no different to the way we would conduct any battle. We send out scouts to assess the enemy in his strengths and various weaknesses. You are our scout, our magical scout.’
‘I’d be honoured to make a study, sir.’
‘It is more than a study. The emperor expects his problems to end. The dark fate of great men must be averted. We want to know how that might be achieved.’
‘You are asking me to discover how to cast a magical spell?’
‘Exactly so.’
‘That is not Christian.’ Loys heard the words pop out of him. It was as if they trailed pennants behind them through the air, pennants he wished he could grasp in order to pull them back.
The chamberlain pursed his lips. ‘Oh come on, scholar. How many heathen practices do we study? Your philosophers of Athens never knew Christ. How much heathenism surrounds us, just under the surface of our Christian life? You quote the learned pagans with no fear to your mortal soul; you take pleasure from statues of false gods, you walk upon mosaics showing all manner of unchristian things. Look to the star and sickle moon that is our city’s symbol. Do you know how that came to be? Why we mark it on our walls and gates?’
‘I do not, sir.’ Loys, remarkably for him, had never even considered it.
‘It is the symbol of the goddess Hecate. “At my will the planets of the air, the wholesome winds of the seas, and the silences of hell be disposed; my name, my divinity is adored throughout all the world in diverse manners, in variable customs and in many names. Some call me Juno, others Bellona of the Battles, and still others Hecate. Principally the Ethiopians which dwell in the Orient, and the Egyptians which are excellent in all kind of ancient doctrine, and by their proper ceremonies accustomed to worship me, do call me Queen Isis.”’
‘Apuleius’s Metamorphoses,’ said Loys, recognising the quotation.
‘Correct,’ said the chamberlain. ‘How much of our wisdom and art is taken from the pagans? Half the masses on their knees to Mary are secretly praying to Hecate in their hearts and the other half pray to her without knowing it. Paganism surrounds us. We are the fish; religion is our sea but cold and old tides are within it.’
Loys summoned his courage. ‘I must have a care for my immortal soul, sir.’
‘That sounds like defiance, scholar.’
‘No, sir, it is not.’
‘Then what do you call it?’
Loys said nothing.
‘It is an academic study,’ said the chamberlain. ‘I am not asking you to perform these sorceries, just to describe them and to tell us how they might be done. I am sick of frauds and ragged prophets. This requires the attention of serious men. You will be rewarded.’
Loys’ tongue came to his lips. The chamberlain smiled at that.
‘You will have rooms in the palace, where your wife will be able to wander freely among its many marvels. Has she seen the metal birds that sing beneath the fountains? You see them every day in the Magnaura but a woman cannot walk here, can she? And remember, as an honoured lady of the court, she need only command a court eunuch to come with her if she wants to take to the streets. Your food will be paid for and proper garments too, so you don’t offend the eyes of courtiers. Baths will be available and warm rooms — they say this winter is going to be a cold one and if the summer is anything to go by they’re right. Scholar, do you want to spend the months of true cold in that little pile of wood down by the water?’
Loys shifted. He felt like a mouse who suddenly realises a cat has been watching it. And he knew, as the chamberlain knew, he had no alternative but to accept.
The chamberlain clicked his fingers at the huge Greek eunuch and the man slid a wrap of cloth across the table.
‘There’s a pound of gold. Seventy-two solidi. That should keep the lady happy, I think.’
‘You know a lot about me, sir.’ Loys wondered who among the scholars had been spying for the chamberlain.
‘Pick up the gold.’
Loys did as he was told. It felt heavier than a pound. Four years’ wages for a soldier. There sat the chamberlain, richly dressed, delicate in features and movement. Was that how Satan had appeared to Christ in the wilderness?
The chamberlain watched Loys weighing the gold in his hand. ‘We have men who are paid to know all about you. The Office of Barbarians, as men call them, though they dislike the title themselves. They dislike any title, in fact. With so many foreigners we need someone to keep an eye on them all. Though in truth their time would be better spent watching our native Romans nowadays. Come to the door of the palace as soon as you can and mention my name. They will be expecting you.’
Loys bowed. He wanted to give the gold back but that was impossible. Another part of him wanted to kiss the little bundle, to hug it and to cheer.
‘I will expect your report by the end of winter. A working and efficacious spell to cure the emperor of his malaise and to protect him and the high men of this city against further attack.’
‘What is the emperor’s malaise?’
‘That need not concern you. Now stay here as we leave.’
Loys almost wanted to laugh, though he had no idea why.
The chamberlain left and, after a short while, the master returned. He had a cowed look to him. Loys had seen it before. It was the look of a boy who has been beaten in a fight, a man who has been made to appear foolish in front of a girl, a losing gambler creeping home to his wife. Humiliation, surprise even that life still went on after such a loss of status.
‘You can go, Loys,’ he said, returning to his chair behind the desk.
‘I will not be at the debate?’
‘No. You are the chamberlain’s now.’
‘Will my place at the school be open when he finishes with me?’
The master turned down his mouth and shook his head.
‘Succeed or fail, he will never be finished with you. You are his, for bad or for good.’
‘But why did he pay me so well? Why raise me up to live in the palace? He could have just commanded me to
