corridor.
‘Handle them yourself,’ said Loys and led Azemar out into the courtyard.
The guards there looked twice at his dirty official robes and dithered before the gate.
‘Open it,’ said Loys. ‘Now.’
The guards did as they were told and Loys took Azemar’s hand and led him out of the prison. Loys’ two palace guards came trotting to meet him with expressions of broad relief.
Azemar stopped, gazing up in wonder at the black skies. ‘The world is a prison,’ he said, ‘with prisons within it. Boxes of darkness, one inside another.’
‘Come on.’
They went to the palace, around the back curtain wall to the courtiers’ entrance rather than the public reception area of the Room of Nineteen Couches.
Loys was very aware of how dirty his robes had become and of the terrible state of Azemar. He put his cloak around his friend and bundled him on, telling the guard on the palace door to mind his own business when he asked who the beggar was. The man was cowed by the force of Loys’ rebuttal and immediately let them through.
Loys had succeeded in his aim of acquiring a terrifying reputation and commanding respect. He hated what he was becoming — a barking, snarling dog who could not even trust his own master.
They made their way through the corridors of the palace to Loys’ room. He strode in.
‘Servant, bring food and water for our guest. Get them now!’
Only then did he focus on who was in the room. There was the servant; there was Beatrice drinking from a cup, but opposite her on the couch reserved for guests sat a very strange figure. A boy, but not quite a boy. His skin was smooth and his muscles undefined. Despite this he wore an iron breastplate and an empty scabbard on his belt. Odd. Weapons had to be handed to the palace guards on entering but most people gave over their swords and scabbards complete. Not this boy. It seemed he was keen to emphasise he normally wore a sword.
‘Loys, what’s happened? Who is this?’ Beatrice was full of concern.
‘A friend,’ he said, ‘my friend Azemar, from home.’
‘What’s happened to him?’
‘Never mind. Bring him a drink, servant, bring him a drink.’
The servant rushed to scoop water from a bowl and Azemar’s eyes roamed the room.
‘There are snakes here,’ he said.
‘Only paintings, my friend, only paintings.’ Loys had not taken his eyes from the figure on the couch.
‘Who is this?’ said Loys.
‘One of the emperor’s men,’ said Beatrice. Azemar gulped at the water.
Snake in the Eye stood and bowed. ‘Is it the scholar Loys I have the honour of addressing?’
‘This is not the right time,’ said Loys, gesturing to Azemar.
‘I have an important question.’ He produced the medal the emperor had given him.
‘I’ve had enough of charms for today,’ said Loys.
‘It is the emperor’s badge of responsibility. It’s only given to those he trusts very deeply.’
‘Well, good for you,’ said Loys, ‘but…’ A thought struck him. He was looking for access to the emperor. This boy might be useful.
‘I’d be pleased to see you later, or tomorrow,’ said Loys, ‘but for the moment…’ He gestured to his filthy clothes and then to Azemar.
‘I would be seen now,’ said Snake in the Eye.
Loys had encountered some odd behaviour in his time in the palace but this was truly strange. The boy seemed almost deranged. Azemar had collapsed on the floor; Beatrice and the servant were bending over him, but the boy acted as though nothing at all was out of the ordinary. His stood with a stiff formality, waiting for Loys’ response.
‘Let’s get Azemar to the bed,’ said Loys.
Between them they lifted Azemar up and carried him across the room and into the bedroom at the rear while the boy stood watching them with an expression of intense concentration. He stared at Loys, making him feel uncomfortable.
‘The lady must leave the room before we can strip him, sir,’ said the servant.
‘Don’t be an idiot,’ said Loys. ‘Our families are only one generation out of the longhouse. Do you think she’s never seen a man naked before?’
‘People will talk.’
‘Not if you don’t. Now let’s get these rags off him. And send for a doctor — can’t you see he’s wounded?’
The servant bowed and left the room while Loys pulled the filthy clothes from Azemar and Beatrice went to fetch clean water and a towel with which to wash him. He threw the clothes to the floor and they hit it with a wet smack — blood soaked into every fibre. Azemar’s whole body too was stained dark red, but he wasn’t hurt. Loys found no cuts.
‘When can I expect my audience?’ said Snake in the Eye. ‘I would like to carry report of your fame and skill to our emperor.’
Loys ran his fingers over Azemar’s torso and arms, then his legs, searching for wounds. Nothing. His friend had suffered no obvious injury at all.
‘Shall I say the emperor’s man was rudely received? The wolfman in the emperor’s tent received better welcome than I here.’
Now it was Loys’ turn to stare.
‘You know about the wolfman?’
‘I was there when he entered the emperor’s tent. I defended the emperor, not like these weakling Greeks.’
Beatrice returned with the servant and the court physician. She was careful not to approach the bed out of respect for the sensibilities of the Greeks.
‘Can you handle this?’ said Loys. ‘I do need to speak to this young man.’
‘Yes, Loys,’ she said. ‘What’s going on?’
‘This is Azemar. You know, the one I told you about. My friend from the monastery. He’s a brilliant man and he has risked a lot to come here for me, I think. We owe it to him to do whatever we can.’
‘I’ll stay with him.’
‘I’ll be back as quick as I can.’ Loys turned to Snake in the Eye. ‘We’ll walk,’ he said.
‘As you wish,’ said Snake in the Eye.
They went out of the room and down the corridor to where the window to the garden should have been. It had been boarded up as if for winter owing to the unseasonal weather.
‘Do you mind the cold?’ said Loys. After his time in the suffocating prison he needed the air.
‘I am a mighty man and can endure anything,’ said Snake in the Eye.
Loys was beginning to believe he was dealing with a lunatic or at least someone from a very alien culture. But the boy spoke Greek with a harsh, northern edge to it. He was a Viking, he was sure, as Loys’ own father had been.
‘Good, then we’ll go to the garden.’
They went out into a cloister which looked out on a statue of a satyr. A light rain fell and he imagined the satyr trying to run off. It had more chance of escape than he did.
‘You are a northern man?’ said Loys in Norse.
‘A Varangian, true,’ said Snake in the Eye ‘We are noted for our fierceness.’
‘Indeed,’ said Loys. ‘I have questions for you, but as you came to me, you clearly have something you want to tell me.’
‘You are an expert in removing curses?’
‘Yes.’ Loys saw no need to correct him. Reputation was everything in the court and epithets such as ‘expert’ and ‘famous’ were highly valued.
‘The emperor has a curse.’
‘That is treason,’ said Loys.
‘No, it is true,’ said Snake in the Eye. ‘I heard him say as much.’
