Styliane…’ He didn’t finish, letting a shrug convey what he meant — if Styliane had spoken the truth and the chamberlain was implicated then… ‘He will find a way to have me succeed that causes the least damage to those he values.’
‘Or he will have you killed.’
‘That would show he couldn’t protect me. No. I am beginning to understand these great men. The point is not to succeed but to please the competing interests around us. A visit to the Numera does all those things. If we find nothing then it will at least signal we are looking in the right area. If we find the wolfman then the chamberlain can only be pleased — he was seeking him himself.’
‘Four men are missing.’
‘The point is to make a show of visiting. It’s better to look and not discover anything. Then we offer a threat but not so strong that anyone must move against us.’
‘You’re becoming quite the courtier.’
‘God gave me brains. I have neglected to use them up until now,’ said Loys. ‘It’s time I put that right.’
‘Be careful.’ She kissed him.
‘You’re always telling me to be bold.’
‘Be careful while being bold.’
‘Very like a woman,’ he said.
‘And very like a man to seem to be bold while being careful.’
He smiled and kissed her back.
‘You have my plan in a nutshell,’ he said.
27
Loys walked over to the Numera. It was dusk, or the time that should have been dusk, but the sky was black, and the only light was from the lamp carried by the two guards who accompanied him and from those of the citizens who moved around the streets.
The fog was almost choking and he could see very little. The prison was invisible from the palace, not eighty paces away. Loys followed the palace wall and then took off at the diagonal across the square. A few steps into the filthy air and the prison loomed like a menacing rock seen from a ship.
As he walked, he kept one hand on the short knife stuffed into his belt. Loys came to the gate of the prison. A group of four women strained at the bars of the gate, shoving through loaves and wine, money and even clothing to the guards. The only way of surviving the Numera was to have friends or relatives on the outside working for you, agitating for your release, bringing in supplies and offering bribes to the guards to take them in. Loys wondered how much of what was intended for the prisoners ever made its way to them.
The gate guarded the front of a small compound leading to the entrance to the prison itself, a black doorway no wider than two men. He went to the gate and leaned through the bars. A guard was relaying news of prisoners to those outside He caught the man’s attention with a quick ‘Hey,’ and he came strolling over.
‘Meletios,’ said Loys, ‘get him here now.’
‘Your manners aren’t up to much, are they?’
Loys withdrew his cloak to expose the blue silk beneath. The man gave a little whistle of surprise and went back into the prison. Loys stood tapping at the gate with his shoe. Then the fat form of Meletios came out of the dark doorway with two guards, their swords drawn.
Meletios gestured to the gate with his eyes and one of the guards unlocked it.
‘Quick!’ said Meletios as the gate opened.
His own guards went to come through, along with an old woman who tried to shove in front of them. One of the guards brought her a smart whack with the flat of his sword and she stepped back for a second, allowing him to close the gate.
‘We need to come with the quaestor,’ said one of Loys’ guards.
‘No one but Numeri in here, chief, you know the rules,’ said Meletios.
Loys’ guards protested uselessly. Already Meletios was guiding Loys towards the entrance of the prison. Loys smiled to himself. He’d anticipated having to jolly his guards along in the Numera. Now he wouldn’t face that problem.
‘If we left that open we’d be overrun,’ said Meletios.
‘Don’t people normally try to get out of prison?’ said Loys.
‘Plebian idiots,’ said Meletios. ‘They think they can just walk in here and take their friends out with them. I don’t know what they think we’re running here.’
‘What are you running here? Looks more like an extortion operation than a prison to me,’ said Loys.
Meletios bowed his head. ‘I have everything ready for you to descend,’ he said. ‘Mark that I have exerted myself for you.’
Loys swallowed down a ‘thank you’. The chamberlain’s men expected such indulgences as a right.
He followed Meletios to the dark doorway. Heat and a terrible stench breathed from it. Loys was reminded of a rotten mouth in an ugly face.
They entered through a short corridor. Ahead of him Loys heard music, a high nasal pipe and a drum. Meletios opened an inner door.
It opened into a large vaulted room lit by reed torches, ropes of incense smoke curling in the stale air. A band of musicians played in one corner and a girl danced across the floor. She was very beautiful, dark-haired and dark- eyed, and she wore long scarves of bright silks tied about her body. A man lay in chains on a rich couch of green velvet watching her. She bent backwards and writhed in front of him, casting herself to the floor, rising again and discarding a scarf.
‘Can you believe this?’ said Meletios. ‘Even in here some people need to demonstrate their wealth. This is supposed to be some sort of ceremony.’
‘It’s the dance of the seven veils, or a version of it,’ said Loys.
‘What’s that?’
‘A pagan myth. The goddess Ishtar goes to the underworld to seek wisdom. As she passes through each of the seven gates that lead there she is forced by the gatekeeper to discard an item of clothing until she is naked. She bargains to escape the underworld, taking up her clothes as she goes. When she emerges she is free but must find someone to replace her. She chooses her brother, who has been drunk since she has been gone.’
‘Well, she wouldn’t be emerging from here if it wasn’t for those two,’ said Meletios. He nodded to two men who sat in the corner. Loys recognised them as Normans. Her guards, doubtless. He didn’t know them, so chances were they wouldn’t recognise him.
‘You allow prisoners to have private armed guards in here?’
Meletios shrugged. ‘We allow anything for the right price.’
‘Even to walk free?’
‘Depending on the quality of your enemies,’ said Meletios.
‘So this merchant must have high-quality enemies indeed.’
‘Very high.’
Four men came to join them — prison guards.
‘Do we need so many?’ said Loys.
‘Word gets around,’ said Meletios, ‘I don’t like it any more than you do but they were sent over from the palace under imperial seal. Someone doesn’t want anything unpleasant happening to you.’
Loys had felt clever losing his guards. He felt less clever now he realised that whoever was watching him was one step ahead.
‘Who sent them?’
‘Don’t know, emperor’s seal. Could have been anyone.’
Loys appraised the men. No uniform to speak of.
