Byzantium, was once more summoned before the throne. He entered to find the emperor dressed in purple and surrounded by a contingent of Varangian guardsmen wearing helmets with horsetail plumes, and carrying spears with broad leaf-shaped blades.
'Greetings, in Christ's name, Lord Hugh,' the emperor said. 'Come closer, friend, and learn the subject of our latest meditations.'
'If it pleases you, Lord Emperor,' replied Hugh, utterly beguiled by the affable and compact Alexius. He stepped to the very foot of the throne and awaited his benefactor's sage reflections, glancing now and again at the fearsome Varangi, standing tall and silent in their ranks a few paces behind the throne.
'We have been thinking about this pilgrimage, this Holy Crusade which the pope has decreed,' the emperor began. 'It would seem to us a difficult task to bring so many men from so many different nations to Jerusalem.'
'It is our duty and our joy,' replied Hugh confidently. 'As good Christians we happily obey God's will.'
'Of course,' agreed Alexius, 'and it is laudable that so many have answered the call of this duty-laudable, yes, but difficult nonetheless.'
'The hardships are insignificant in view of the glory to be obtained,' Hugh remarked. 'What are earthly travails compared to Heaven's treasures?'
'Indeed,' said the emperor. 'Yet, we find we have the power to alleviate a few of those hardships for you. The matter of supply and provisioning, for example, weighs heavily on all competent commanders. Soldiers and animals must be fed and watered, after all. Weapons and equipment must be maintained. We have ready stores of grain and oil, wine and meat, and so forth. These could be made available to the armies that pass through imperial lands.'
'It would be a blessing, Lord Emperor,' replied Hugh, impressed yet again by the emperor's incomparable largesse.
'Good,' cried Alexius jubilantly. 'We will cause orders to be given to establish provisioning stations along the way for the armies yet to come. Further, some arrangement must be made to promote harmony and unity of purpose among men arriving from such diverse lands and realms. It would seem that as we assume the burden for supplying these armies, we also accept the responsibility for encouraging their accord.' The emperor regarded his guest placidly. 'Is that not reasonable?'
'Entirely reasonable, Lord Emperor,' replied Hugh readily. 'It is wisdom itself.'
'What better way to bind the disparate members of this unruly body,' Alexius continued, 'and remind them of their common purpose, than to bring them under the authority of the one who shoulders the burden and responsibility?'
Hugh, entirely agreeable, nodded his support for the notion.
'Therefore, we propose a declaration of allegiance, recognizing the supremacy of the imperial throne,' Alexius concluded. He smoothed his purple robe with battle-hardened hands and gazed benignly upon his guest.
'Does the emperor envision the form this declaration might take?'
Alexius pressed his mouth into a thin line and held his head to one side-as if considering this question for the first time. 'A simple oath of fealty should suffice,' he answered equably, then added a satisfied: 'Yes, that should serve us nicely.'
Before Hugh could reply, the emperor continued, 'Naturally, the noblemen who lead this pilgrimage, and benefit from the empire's protection and provision, would take the oath, binding them one to another under the dominion of the imperial throne.'
Recognizing what was required of him, Count Hugh happily complied. 'Might I beg a boon, Lord Emperor? I would deem it an honour if I were allowed to be the first to take this oath.'
'Oh, indeed, Lord Hugh,' the emperor replied. 'Take it, you shall.'
TWELVE
Murdo recognized every twist in the muddy track rising from the harbour to the cathedral. Retracing his steps for the sixth time in as many weeks, each lump and puddle had the tediously familiar look of a much-detested chore. A chill rain splattered down over him as he slogged along beside his mother, the low grey sky making for a day as dismal as his mood. In five attempts they had yet to obtain an audience with the bishop; even the abbot was so overwhelmed by the imperative duties of his office that he could not fight free long enough to discuss their petition.
Still, Lady Niamh was determined to enlist the church's aid in regaining their estate. It was said, and widely believed, that King Magnus and his son, Prince Sigurd, were God-fearing men, baptized into the faith, and generous supporters of the church. Indeed, on two of their five visits the bishop could not attend his usual office of supplication because he was closeted with the young prince, who was receiving Christian catechism from the senior churchman himself.
'We will not leave,' Niamh vowed, for the fourth time since starting out, 'until we have spoken to Bishop Adalbert in the very flesh, and he has heard our petition.'
Murdo made no reply. It seemed to him an empty vow. Five times they had come, and five times failed. He saw no reason to think that this visit would be any different. The bishop, he decided, was avoiding them. This neither surprised nor dismayed him. He had long since relegated the church and its leaders to the perdition preserved for grasping clerics and their smarmy ilk who preyed on the credulous and gullible. His mother, he knew, was neither gullible nor credulous, and this was precisely why the churchmen refused to see her. What Murdo could not understand was why she insisted the bishop should be involved in this dispute.
The track rose sharply as it joined the path leading to the sanctuary entrance. The great doors were closed, but the smaller entry cut out of the right-hand panel was open. They entered the dim, shadowed vestibule and paused, allowing their eyes to grow accustomed to the murky interior. The tall pillars stretched up into the darkness above, their broad bases lit by pools of quivering candlelight. A few monks chanted away near the altar, their voices echoing from the cavernous vaults of the roof, making it seem as if moaning angels hovered far, far overhead like desultory doves.
On their previous visits, Lady Niamh had presented herself to the first monk who met them, and requested an audience with the bishop. On each occasion, the entreaty was duly channelled along lines of proper authority and they were politely conducted to the cloistered gallery outside the house where the bishop held consultation with those members of his flock seeking his advice on matters both temporal and spiritual. There they were asked to wait until the bishop could receive them.
Five times they had sat and waited, and five times they had departed without so much as a glimpse of the elusive churchman. The first three times, after a lengthy wait, a monk had come to inform them that the bishop's previous consultations had run overlong and that he begged to be pardoned but he would not be able to see them. They were, with all cordiality, invited to please come again next week; the bishop would certainly see them then. On their fourth visit, they were informed, after another long and tedious wait, that Bishop Adalbert had been suddenly called away on a matter of utmost urgency and that he would not return for several days. Then, last week, after waiting through most of the day, they had at last been forced to leave when the bells rang vespers and the cathedral was closed to visitors. No explanation was offered for the bishop's failure to see them.
With each disappointment, Murdo watched his mother's fortitude weaken a little more. It hurt him to see her losing her resolve, and he determined that he would not allow her dignity to be stolen, too. The waiting, he concluded, was meant to wear them down, to make them so grateful for their audience, should they finally receive it, that they would gladly accept whatever sop the bishop deigned to offer them.
Now, here they were, for the sixth time, and Murdo decided it would be the last.
As before, they were met by a monk who conducted them to the house door where they were asked to wait. The monk bade them sit and indicated the wooden bench, then turned, opened the door, and made to step inside. Murdo, however, moved in swiftly, seized the door and held it open. 'I think we have waited long enough,' he told the monk.
'Please! Please! This is a holy place. You cannot force-'
Murdo shoved the door wider. 'Coming, Mother?'
