'What were you two gossiping about?' Iakovitzes asked when he came back a couple of minutes later.
'You, of course,' Krispos said in his best innocent voice.
'A worthy topic indeed.' Iakovitzes was noticeably smoother mounting than he had been back at Opsikion. He used his legs and the reins to get his horse moving once more. Krispos and Mavros followed him toward the city.
VII
'Hurry up, Krispos! Aren't you ready yet?' Iakovitzes said. 'We don't want to be late, not to this affair.'
'No, excellent sir,' Krispos said. He had been ready for the best part of an hour. His master was the one who kept taking off one robe and putting on another, agonizing over how big a hoop to wear in his left ear and whether it should be gold or silver, bedeviling his servants about which scent to douse himself with. This once, Krispos did not blame Iakovitzes for fussiness. The Sevastokrator Petronas was giving the evening's feast.
'Come on, then,' Iakovitzes said now. A moment later, almost as an afterthought, he added, 'You look quite well tonight. I don't think I've seen that robe before.'
'Thank you, excellent sir. No, I don't think you've seen it, either. I just bought it a couple of weeks ago.'
The garment in question was dark blue, and of fine soft wool. Its sober hue and plain cut were suited to a man older and of higher station than Krispos. He'd used a few of Tanilis' goldpieces on clothes of that sort. One of these days, he might need to be taken seriously. Not looking like a groom could only help.
He rode half a pace behind Iakovitzes and to his master's left. Iakovitzes swore whenever cross traffic made them slow and grew livid to see how crowded the plaza of Palamas was. 'Out of the way there, you blundering oaf!' he screamed when he got stuck behind a small man leading a large mule. 'I have an appointment with the Sevastokrator.'
Cheeky as most of the folk who called Videssos the city home, the fellow retorted, 'I don't care if you've got an appointment with Phos, pal. I'm in front of you and that's how I like it.'
After more curses, Iakovitzes and Krispos managed to swing around the muleteer. By then they were near the western edge of the plaza of Palamas, past the great amphitheater, past the red granite obelisk of the Milestone from which all distances in the Empire were reckoned.
'Here, you see, excellent sir, we're all right,' Krispos said soothingly as traffic thinned out.
'I suppose so.' Iakovitzes did not sound convinced, but Krispos knew he was grumbling only because he always grumbled. The western edge of the plaza bordered on the imperial palaces, and no one entered the palace district without business there. Soon Iakovitzes urged his horse up into a trot, and then into a canter.
'Where are we going?' Krispos asked, keeping pace.
'The Hall of the Nineteen Couches.'
'The nineteen what?' Krispos wasn't sure he'd heard correctly.
'Couches,' Iakovitzes repeated. 'Why do they call it that?'
'Because up until maybe a hundred years ago, people at fancy feasts ate while they reclined instead of sitting in chairs as we do now. Don't ask me why they did that, because I couldn't tell you—to make it easier for them to spill things on their robes, I suppose. Anyway, there haven't been any couches in there for a long time, but names have a way of sticking.'
They swung round a decorative stand of willows. Krispos saw scores of torches blazing in front of a large square building, and People bustling around and going inside. 'Is that it?'
'That's it.' Iakovitzes gauged the number of horses and sedan chairs off to one side of the hall. 'We're all right—not too early, but not late, either.'
Grooms in matched silken finery led away his mount and Krispos'. Krispos followed his master up the low, broad stairs to the Hall of the Nineteen Couches. 'Pretty stone,' Krispos remarked as he got close enough to make out detail in the torchlight.
'Do you really think so?' Iakovitzes said. 'The green veining in the white marble always reminds me of one of those crumbly cheeses that smell bad.'
'I hadn't thought of that,' Krispos said, truthfully enough. He had to admit the comparison was apt. Even so, he would not have made it himself. Iakovitzes' jaundiced outlook made him take some strange views of the world.
A servitor in raiment even more splendid than the grooms' bowed low as Iakovitzes came to the entrance, then turned and loudly announced, 'The excellent Iakovitzes!'
Thus introduced, Iakovitzes swaggered into the reception hall, as well as he could swagger with a limp that was still pronounced. Krispos, who was not nearly important enough to be worth introducing, followed his master inside.
'Iakovitzes!' Petronas hurried up to clasp the noble's hand. 'That was a fine piece of work you did for me in Opsikion. You have my gratitude.' The Sevastokrator made no effort to keep his voice down. Heads turned to see whom he singled out for such public praise.
'Thank you, your Highness,' Iakovitzes said, visibly preening.
'As I said, you're the one who has earned my thanks. Well done.' Petronas started to walk away, stopped. 'Krispos, isn't it?'
'Yes, your Imperial Highness,' Krispos said, surprised and impressed the Sevastokrator remembered his name after one brief meeting almost a year before.
'Thought so.' Petronas also seemed pleased with himself. He turned back to Iakovitzes. 'Didn't you bring another lad with you from Opsikion, too? Mavros, was that the name? Tanilis' son, I mean.'
Iakovitzes nodded. 'As a matter of fact, I did.'
