Byzantium

42

Negotiations between the eparch and the amir concluded when all parties agreed to honour the safety of travellers, especially merchants and the like who habitually traversed disputed borders. The routes themselves might remain under contention, but all recognized that it was best for everyone if trade continued unhindered. What is more, both emperor and caliph vowed-through their emissaries-to take whatever steps necessary to halt the pirating and raiding on both sides.

Furthermore, they agreed that these simple measures, if strictly upheld, could lay a solid foundation for increased cooperation, perhaps even reconciliation in the future. Towards this end, they proposed to meet again the following year to plan a council at which the emperor and the caliph could meet face to face and exchange tokens and treaties of peace.

Spring, early in this part of the world, was soon upon us and that meant the beginning of the trading year. Hence, Nicephorus was eager to return to the emperor with word of the envoy's success, for the sooner word of the peace accord could reach Constantinople, the sooner the merchants could resume trading with full confidence-and the sooner imperial coffers would begin enjoying fresh infusions of tax money, foreign and domestic.

"If you will pardon me, eparch," said Nikos the day after Amir Sadiq had departed. There had been a great farewell feast to celebrate the successful conclusion of the council, and the amir had been sent off with gifts of assurance and good will-the treasure the Sea Wolves had guarded, in fact. The eparch was preparing to sail the next day.

"Yes, yes, what is it, komes?" replied Nicephorus impatiently. He was sitting at the small table in the courtyard, looking at various documents having to do with the business just concluded.

"I see you are busy. Therefore, I will speak plainly."

"By all means."

"I think it a mistake to return to Constantinople at once." Nikos was so intent on making his point that he failed to notice me standing just inside the door. I had brought the eparch his cloak; the day had turned cloudy, and he asked me to fetch it for him.

"And why is that?" wondered the eparch, laying aside the parchment he was reading.

"We have had pledges and assurances before, but it has not stopped the predation."

"Are you suggesting the amir has lied to us, or deceived us in some way?"

"Not in the least," answered the komes quickly. "I am as certain as you are that Amir Sadiq is a just and honourable man."

"Then what are you suggesting?" The eparch glared at Nikos. "Come now! Be quick about it. You proposed to speak plainly-do so!"

"I am simply suggesting," Nikos said with elaborate patience, "that the news of our achievement may not receive the welcome it rightly deserves."

"And why should you imagine that?" snapped the eparch, already dismissing the komes from his mind, if not from the room. He turned back to the parchment he had been perusing.

"For the simple reason that no one will believe it."

The eparch glanced up from his work, regarded Nikos, then said, "Ridiculous."

"Is it?" countered the komes quickly. "Who will be the first to test the soundness of the treaty? If I were a merchant, I do not think I would be overeager to risk life and livelihood on the naked assurance of…" He hesitated.

"Say it, komes," demanded the eparch. "On the naked assurance of a silly old man. That is what you were going to say, is it not?"

"To risk life and livelihood on the assurances of an unknown Arab emissary," corrected Nikos smoothly. "It seems to me that without additional surety, shall we say, the agreement we take back with us will be seen as yet another empty promise offered by the duplicitous Muhammedans-a promise ordained to be broken as soon as the first trade vessels leave the Bosphorus."

This arrested the eparch's attention. He raised his head slowly and turned to the komes. "Yes, I am listening. What do you propose?"

"A simple demonstration," answered Nikos.

"A demonstration," the eparch intoned flatly. "What sort of demonstration do you have in mind, komes?"

"A journey, nothing more."

The eparch's mouth turned down at the corners. "I am disappointed, komes. I expected something much more creative and intelligent from you." Flicking his hand dismissively, Nicephorus said, "It is out of the question. You are too late with your anxious worries. We are leaving as soon as the ships are provisioned and ready. The merchants are anxious to return to Constantinople, and so am I. The emperor is waiting."

"It need be nothing very elaborate, or very far," continued Nikos as if he had not heard the eparch's decision. "What better way to announce the success of the treaty than to declare before the emperor and the assembled merchant princes that you personally have inaugurated the new peace with a journey over one of our more troubled trade routes, and found it to be completely satisfactory?"

The eparch regarded Nikos closely; I had seen the same look on the face of a man trying to determine the age of the horse he was buying. "You have a destination in mind, I presume?"

"The short journey to Theodosiopolis should suffice. It would take only a few days, and amply serve the purpose."

The eparch considered this, tapping his fingertips together. Finally, he said, "It is a meritable idea, Komes Nikos. I think you should do it-"

"Good," replied Nikos swiftly. "I will make the arrangements at once."

"On your own," continued the eparch, more forcefully. "That would allow me to stay here and prepare for next year's council. The governor is expected in a few days, and I could greet him and relate the details of our agreement. It would be time well spent. You go."

"But I am not the eparch," Nikos pointed out. "I could not-"

"It makes no difference. The journey is largely symbolic anyway. It will carry the same significance whether I go along or not."

Komes Nikos seemed about to make an objection; I could almost see the protest forming on his lips. But he checked himself and said, "Very well. If that is your decision."

"That is my decision," replied Nicephorus precisely.

"I shall leave in the morning. Good day to you, eparch." He turned suddenly and, for the first time, saw me standing just inside the doorway. His face stiffened; he crossed the room in quick, long strides. "Beware, meddling priest," he whispered under his breath as he passed. "Beware."

"Ah, Aidan, you are here," called the eparch, beckoning me to enter. "The day has grown cold. I am chilled to the bone."

Unfolding the cloak, I placed it around his shoulders. "I could light the brazier," I offered.

"Too much bother," he said. "I will not stay out here much longer. The light is failing." He looked at the doorway, as if expecting to see Nikos standing there. "Did you hear what he said?"

"Yes, eparch."

"What do you think?"

"I know nothing of these matters," I answered.

"But you know Nikos," the eparch pointed out. "You know him and, what is more, you distrust him-as do I." Nicephorus paused, ordering his thoughts. "I distrust him because I do not know where his true loyalties lie. He is ambitious, I believe. Many young men are ambitious, and I have seen more than my share; but in our friend Nikos, ambition serves an end I cannot see." Turning stiffly to me, he asked, "Was he lying, do you think?"

"You would know better than I, eparch," I answered. Suspicion, Justin had said, is the knife in your sleeve and the shield at your back.

"I think we must assume that he was. But if so, I cannot see any possible gain in it-for him or anyone else. Can you?"

"No, eparch." Even as I answered I felt the creeping damp of the prison cell I had seen in my dream. I shivered and looked around me; the courtyard had grown dim as daylight waned. "It is getting dark. Shall I not light the brazier for you?"

"No, no, that will not be necessary," said the eparch, rising. "I am going to my room." He folded the parchment and tucked it under his arm as he started for the door. "Walk with me, Aidan."

I fell into step beside him and we entered the corridor. "I do not know how you came to be slave to the Danes," he said, "but I want you to know that I intend speaking to the emperor on our return."

"Eparch?"

"About your freedom, son," he said in a fatherly tone. "It would be a sad waste of your talents to spend the rest of your life translating Greek for barbarians. We must do something about that, I think."

"Thank you, eparch," I replied, for I could think of nothing else to say.

"We had best keep this between ourselves for now," he cautioned. "It would be less awkward when the time comes."

"Of course."

"Tell Flautus that I will take my meal in my room," the eparch instructed. "I have had enough of celebration feasts for awhile." We had reached his door; he opened it and dismissed me. "Oh, Aidan," he said calling me back, "would you ask Jarl Harald to place a guard at my door tonight? I think I would sleep a little better for it."

"Yes, eparch; at once."

He thanked me and I took my leave, going straight-away to find Harald and arrange for the guard. Taking the eparch's concern to heart, I also remained out of sight that night, behaving as a dutiful slave and staying close to Harald. But nothing happened, and the house remained quiet. I went to sleep thinking: Nikos departs tomorrow and we will not have to worry about him any more.

The next day, Nikos prepared to leave, leading a group of thirty barbarian guards and a dozen opportunistic traders desirous of an escorted journey to Theodosiopolis. He spoke briefly to the eparch and left the villa, where-upon Nicephorus went in to break fast in his customary fashion. I served him at table whenever I could so that I might remain privy to his affairs.

Thus, the eparch was just sitting down when Nikos returned. "A matter of urgency has arisen," he said, striding quickly into the courtyard. "It requires your attention."

The eparch's expression of anger gave way to bewil-derment when the magister and another man appeared in the doorway behind Nikos. The eparch rose to his feet and bade the men to enter.

"Forgive my intrusion, eparch," the magister said quickly. "I am glad to have arrived before it was too late."

"Too late?" wondered Nicephorus.

"Ah," said the magister, glancing at Nikos, "too late to prevent the komes from leaving."

The eparch frowned. "Why should that cause you concern, I wonder?"

"I will explain," offered the magister.

"It would be a kindness," allowed the eparch.

"Consul Psellon," he indicated the man beside him, "has just come from the governor with a message for you."

"I see. May I have it, please?" Nicephorus held out his hand.

Magister Sergius nudged the man, who put his hand into a fold of his cloak, and withdrew a thick square of parchment tied with a black silk band and sealed with a red spot of wax. "It is the exarch's seal, you see," volunteered Sergius.

"Thank you for that observation, magister," intoned the eparch. "No doubt I would have failed to appreciate that detail. I am, as always, indebted to you."

Sergius coloured and made to further his explanation, but Nikos cut him off, saying, "Thank you, magister. I think we are fully capable of assessing the importance of this document without your assistance."

"Of course." The magister subsided gratefully.

Eyeing the magister and consul in turn, the eparch took up the bundle, untied it, broke the seal, unfolded the heavy parchment and began to read, his lips moving over the words as he scanned the document. "This is most interesting," he observed upon finishing. "Most interesting, indeed."

Without waiting to be asked, Nikos snatched up the parchment and began to read. "It is from the governor," he observed, still reading.

"So it would appear," mused Nicephorus, staring at the magister and consul with an expression of rank scepticism.

"He is asking us to join him in Sebastea," Nikos continued. "He says there is word of-" he broke off abruptly, glancing at the eparch. "It is a matter of extreme urgency," he finished lamely.

"Apparently," conceded the eparch, still staring at the two before him. "When did this message arrive?" he asked.

"Just this morning," declared the magister. "I came directly to you the moment Psellon arrived."

"I see." The eparch's eyes narrowed. "So you knew the contents of this message, did you?"

"By no means, eparch!" The magister all but shrieked at the implication. "But I knew it to be important-Psellon told me that much."

Consul Psellon nodded vigorously. "It has come directly from the governor's own hand," he confirmed.

"Oh, most certainly it has," agreed the eparch sourly. "Yet, knowing nothing of the message-save its importance-you travelled night and day to bring it to me."

"Of course, eparch," Psellon replied.

"How many travelled with you?"

Psellon hesitated; his eyes shifted to the magister, who stared straight ahead.

"Come!" said the eparch sharply. "The question is perfectly simple. How many travelled with you?"

"Four others," answered Psellon uncertainly.

"I see. You may go, both of you." Nicephorus dismissed Sergius and Psellon with a disdainful gesture, and watched them until they left the room. "What have you to say of this?" inquired the eparch of Nikos when they had gone.

"I think it fortunate that I was detained," the komes replied. "Since I am ready, very little additional provision need be made. We can leave the city by midday. I will make the arrangements."

"I take your answer to mean that you believe this communication to be genuine?"

"Certainly," said Nikos, "I think it safe to say Exarch Honorius seeks only the good of the empire."

"Of that I have no doubt," agreed the eparch, "no doubt whatever-if Honorius wrote it."

"I see no cause to question the veracity of the document," said the komes mildly. "It is in the governor's hand, and carries his seal after all."

"Yes, it does. I see that it does." The eparch, his expression one of doubt and bafflement, sat down slowly in his chair.

"Now, then, if you will excuse me, I will make the necessary arrangements. I assume we will want the Danes to accompany us?"

"Yes, yes," replied Nicephorus, his gaze vacant; his mind was clearly on other matters. "Make the arrangements by all means."

In three strides Nikos was gone, and with not so much as a glance in my direction, though he must have known I was there the whole time. The eparch sat in his chair staring at the half-folded parchment as if it were an object he had never seen before. As no one else was near, I went to him.

"Eparch? Can I help you in any way?"

"Honorius sends word of betrayal," he announced absently. "He says we must come to him."

As the eparch was deeply distracted, I plucked up my courage and asked, "May I see the message?"

"If you wish," he said. He made no move to hand it to me, but he watched me while I read.

The message was terse and stilted, indicating that the caliph planned to use the completion of the peace council to renew hostilities between the Arabs and Byzantium. As details of this treachery were too sensitive to impart by messenger, the governor requested the eparch to join him in Sebastea at once, and suggested travelling with a body-guard.

"You are a man with some experience of the written word," Nicephorus said when I finished. "Can you tell me anything of the man who wrote this?"

The script was Greek, and written in a bold, confident hand; each letter was neatly formed and orderly, if slightly small. "I would say the man was a scribe," I ventured, "a monk, perhaps. He writes distinctly-his words are well-chosen. Is it truly the governor's hand?"

"Yes, it is," answered Nicephorus. "And that is what worries me most."

"Then I do not understand, eparch."

"I know Honorius, you see. We served together in Gaul, and again, briefly, in Ephesus long ago." he confided. "I do not think Nikos or anyone else in Trebizond knows this, and I have told no one since coming here. But I will cut out my own tongue before I confess he wrote that letter.

"Look at it!" he said, with mounting agitation. "The greeting is wrong. We are old friends, Honorius and I. He knew I was coming-knew I would be staying in his house. Yet, he sends the message, not to me, but by way of the magister. What is more, he addresses me not as a man he has known for forty years, but by title only, as if I were a mere functionary of the emperor he had never met."

I began to see what concerned the eparch now, and agreed that it did seem strange. The wording of the letter was stiffly formal-precise, yet distant. "Do you suspect forgery?"

He shook his head. "No; he wrote it. But I cannot believe he wrote it to me."

"Perhaps he did not wish to betray your friendship-should the letter go astray."

"Perhaps." The eparch's tone suggested he thought otherwise. "That letter betrays precious little, it seems to me."

"You suspect another reason for sending a message such as this," I concluded. "What could it be?"

"That is what I am asking myself," he said, shaking his head slowly. He rose from his chair, his food untouched. "I fear we must make ready to leave, Aidan," he said, crossing the courtyard. "Please, inform Harald."

"What about the letter?" I asked, indicating the parchment still lying on the table.

Misunderstanding my question, the eparch replied, "No doubt all will become clear once we arrive in Sebastea."

He left the courtyard and returned to his room. As no one else was around, I picked up the letter and examined it again. It appeared neither more nor less odd than before; I thought, it may be genuine after all. Folding it carefully, I retied the black band, and tucked the document inside my mantle with every intention of returning it to the eparch. Then I hastened to find Harald and alert him to our unexpected change in plans.