Byzantium

72

Nikos looked down at the knife protruding from his chest, then raised his eyes once more. "Barbarian!" he spat, trembling with rage.

Reaching for the bejewelled handle, he made to pluck the daigear from his body. But I took hold of it first, shoving the blade to the hilt and then twisting it. I felt the sharp metal scrape hard against bone.

Nikos's hands gripped mine in a grotesque mockery of friendship. He tried again to pull the blade from his chest, but I held fast.

I heard the others shouting, their voices a meaningless confusion behind me. I heard my name, but the sound held no meaning. Icy serenity pervaded my soul; I felt tranquil, empty-as if all the anger and hatred I had carried for so long had been extinguished in this single act, leaving nothing behind.

"What have you done?" whispered Nikos, rage melting into bewilderment. He looked at me with a profoundly puzzled expression, his eyes glittering strangely.

"All they that take the sword, shall also perish with the sword," I replied. The words came to my tongue of themselves.

"Fool!" he shouted, tearing my hands away at last. He lurched backwards, clutching at the daigear as if it were a serpent that had sunk its fangs into him.

Perhaps his strength was already failing, or perhaps the wide metal blade had wedged somehow against bone, for he grasped the knife and tried to pluck it out but the daigear did not move. Raising his head, he shrieked aloud and with shaking hands, pulled again. Blood trickled gently from the wound, seeping from around the blade, but the daigear remained stuck fast.

Frantic now, Nikos grasped the weapon with both hands and, with a tremendous, sobbing cry, dragged the daigear from his chest. A swift-spreading dark stain appeared against the black of his siarc. "You will die for this," he said, his voice hoarse in the strained silence of the hall. "You will all die."

A snaking tendril of blood appeared at the side of his mouth as he spoke. Nikos lifted a hand to his lips, touched his fingertips to the blood and then held them before his eyes as the colour drained from his face.

Nikos coughed, spewing blood, raised the daigear and took a step towards me. I stood before him unresisting, willing to receive the blade into my own breast. To die in Byzantium was my fated end, and if this was how death found me, so be it.

The wounded eparch took another step, holding the knife so as to strike. But the step became a lurch as his legs abruptly lost their strength. Nikos crashed to his knees, the blade spinning from his grasp and clattering onto the stone floor.

Clutching at my legs, he hauled himself up, his mouth working to frame a word. His eyes beseeched, but the word was never spoken, for even as he gave it utterance, a great gush of blood surged up from his gullet and out of his mouth.

"An eye for an eye," I muttered. "A life for a life."

With a groan, he made to rise, clutching at me and trying to gather his legs under him, to stand one last time. He gained one leg and, shaking violently, somehow pulled himself into an unsteady crouch.

Nikos, bent nearly double, raised his head and gazed furiously around, his eyes glassy and unseeing. Beads of sweat glistened on his pale flesh. Pressing both hands to his chest, he lurched and fell heavily onto his back. With a deep, rattling groan, he rolled onto his side and was seized with a spasm of coughing. Blood issued forth in a brilliant crimson cascade, and he lay his head down on the floor-stones.

I did not realize he was dead until Harald, bending over him, pushed him onto his back once more. There came a slow, gurgling hiss as the air fled his lungs.

Someone spoke, and I looked up to see Dugal standing beside me. I stepped towards him, and my legs turned to water. Dugal grabbed my arm and bore me up in his strong grasp. I saw his mouth move, but could make no sense of his words.

A rushing sound filled my ears, and I felt a heavy pressure inside my head. Squeezing my eyes shut, I gasped for air, fighting for my breath. The sound and pressure dissipated, and my breath returned.

"Aidan…Aidan?"

Opening my eyes, I found myself looking into Dugal's face. Brynach had joined him, and they were both staring at me with troubled expressions. Dugal held me by the arms, shaking me lightly; they were both talking to me, but I made no response.

I looked away from them to Nikos lying on his back on the floor, gazing up at the blue sky-painted ceiling. Still, I felt nothing: neither hatred, nor remorse, nor elation, nor any other emotion, save only the familiar dull emptiness. I knew what I had done, and I was fully aware of everyone's shock and dismay. The scholarii, amazed at what had happened, lowered their spears and made as if to guard the body, but their reaction had come too late. Frightened now, and finding themselves outnumbered by barbarians, one of them began shouting and beating on the door, calling for help. Justin merely stood aside looking on.

In a moment, the smaller door opened within the larger and the magister appeared once more. He took one swift glance at the corpse on the floor, and retreated, his hands fluttering in agitation. We heard him go crying into the room beyond and, as the great door swung slowly open, two imperial guards appeared. Taking positions beside the entrance, they crouched there, spears at the ready. More guards hastened towards us, weapons drawn, their leather shoes slapping the polished stone floor. The magister officiorum stood in the doorway, wringing his hands, and behind him Basileus Leo advanced with swift and terrible dignity.

I faced him calmly; indeed, I was astonished at my own clarity and presence of mind. It seemed as if, having crossed some unknown divide, I now stood on the other side, myself once more.

Regarding the new emperor, I observed a tall, narrow-faced man-the length of his features was emphasized by his long dark beard-wearing a simple white robe of common cloth, and a cloak of the same stuff. The only evidence of his imperial rank was a crown made of flat plaques of gold joined to form a narrow band; the centre of each plaque held a different gem, and two beaded strands joined the band to hang down either side of his head. His high and noble brow creased in a frown as he halted in the doorway to take in the tableau before him, his large dark eyes searching out each and all.

No one moved. No one spoke.

Lowering his gaze to the body on the floor, he paused as if contemplating an obscure text, the meaning of which eluded him. Finally, raising his eyes to the living once more, he said, "So!"

"Blessed basileus," began the magister, stepping to the emperor's side. "Eparch Nikos has been killed. He-"

Basileus Leo silenced the courtier with a practised flick of his hand.

Ignoring the magister, Leo said, "Will someone tell me what has taken place?" Though low, his voice echoed loud in the thick hush of the domed Onopodion.

I found the question extraordinary. Clearly, he could see what had happened, and in any case the magister had just told him. Yet, he made no judgement, nor did he rush to a conclusion, but waited for an explanation.

Unexpectedly, Faysal was first to reply. He stepped forward several paces, pressed his hands to his chest and bowed low. He then rose, declaring: "Wise basileus, allow me to present to your majesty, Lord J'Amal Sadiq, Amir of the Abbasid Sarazens, Servant of Allah, and Emissary of Khalifa al'Mutamid, Defender of the Faithful."

At this Lord Sadiq stepped forward. "May the peace of Allah be with you and with your people, Wise basileus." He made a slight bow of respect, touching his fingertips to his forehead. "Perhaps, with your majesty's indulgence, I may be permitted to offer an interpretation of events which I have myself witnessed," the amir said, his much-deprecated Greek not only flawless, but eloquent.

"Greetings, Amir Sadiq, in the name of the Lord Christ," said Leo, inclining his head stiffly. Extending his hand towards the eparch's body, he said, "Your arrival has taken us somewhat unawares, as have events." He glanced to where Nikos lay. "Nevertheless, it is our distinct pleasure to welcome you, Lord Sadiq, and we are most eager to hear your explanation. Speak, we beg you, and shed some light on this dark adventure."

"Basileus, to my considerable distress, I have this day discovered an evil treachery practised against my people-and yours," Sadiq replied. "A deed of devastating wickedness contrived to impede the treaty of peace which was negotiated by myself and Eparch Nicephorus in Trebizond, on behalf of Emperor Basil of Constantinople and the Khalifa al'Mutamid of Samarra."

I watched Leo closely for any sign of knowledge or complicity, but saw not the slightest twinge or flutter of recognition. Indeed, the astonishment which appeared on his elongated countenance was, I believe, wholly genuine. "Tell us more, we pray you, Lord Sadiq," said Leo, and with a gesture ordered his guards to stand at their ease; the spears were raised and swords sheathed.

"Only recently have I learned that the treaty of which I speak never reached Constantinople," the amir resumed, speaking with kingly poise, "by reason of Eparch Nicephorus' murder. Indeed, I myself was attacked aboard ship to prevent this unhappy news reaching your ears." Here, Sadiq turned and indicated the three Armenians. "I have no doubt you will obtain sufficient confirmation of my tale from these captives we have brought with us and now deliver to your care."

Leo's slow gaze took in the pirates, and then the host of barbarians, Sarazens, and monks. "These are most distressing tidings, Lord Sadiq," he remarked at last, his voice appropriately subdued.

"No less distressing, I believe, is the fact that the man responsible for these and other crimes was a courtier very close to the imperial throne."

It was all true, of course, but I marvelled at Sadiq's ability to colour the harsh facts with coolly disinterested oratory. Leo, too, appeared impressed by the manner in which the amir elucidated his revelations. The basileus professed himself ignorant of the events, and beseeched the amir to continue.

"It is my special pleasure to offer your majesty the agreeable report that the criminal responsible for these and other iniquitous transgressions was apprehended and did condemn himself out of his own mouth." He gazed impassively at the body on the floor. "Judgement is now in the hands of Almighty God, before whom all men must one day stand."

Nodding slowly, Leo looked once more upon the bloody corpse before him. "It may have been better," he observed dryly, "if the criminal could have answered a more mundane tribunal first."

"A thousand pardons, basileus," replied Lord Sadiq, "I can but express my deepest regret. Human frailty is the burden we all must bear as best we can, majesty, and events raced beyond our feeble ability to order them to a more acceptable conclusion. Nevertheless, I have the utmost confidence that the matter has been satisfactorily resolved, and that justice, ever the prerogative of the One True God, has been served."

Extending his hand towards the body, Sadiq concluded, "Allah's judgement is ever swift. Let us say that it was perhaps somewhat more swift in this instance than is commonly anticipated."

Emperor Leo turned and called an order to his guards, two of whom departed on the run. Turning back to us, he said, "The body of the offender will be dealt with in a manner consonant with his crimes." He moved to the doorway. "Yet, if we may prevail upon you to attend us further, we would hear more of the means and methods of the subjects introduced to us just now."

"Indeed, basileus," remarked the amir boldly, "I also believe there remains a claim to answer and debts to be settled."

With that, Leo turned and led the way into the throne-room. Amir Sadiq followed, attended by Kazimain; Jarl Harald came next, surrounded by the Danes; Justin and the gate guards followed. Brynach, Ddewi and Dugal, looking lost and confused, approached me, dazed expressions on their faces. "Aidan, why?" was all they could say.

How could I tell them what I did not know myself? I turned and followed the retinue, passing the body lying with its face in a thickening pool of blood. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Faysal stoop and retrieve something from the floor; he brought it to me.

"The Qadi has spoken," he said, and I saw that he had wiped the blade clean. Faysal tucked the weapon into my belt once more, saying, "All is as Allah wills. May Allah be praised."