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A web of incense hung under the great dome of Ayia
Sophia, its curling tendrils caught in the sunlight which fell
through the windows. One shaft struck just behind the Emperor’s
head, shining off the back of his throne and illuminating the hazy
air like a nimbus. On his right sat the patriarch Nikolas, on his
left his brother Isaak, a triumvirate of unyielding glory.
Elsewhere in the city they would be ringing bells and singing songs
for the great feast of Easter, but here the vast crowd was silent,
watching the ceremony unfold.
At the front of the hall, the barbarian captains
sat in a line on chairs inlaid with silver. Duke Godfrey was there
with his brother Baldwin, and the three ambassadors I recognised
from the day of Aelric’s treachery; others whom I had not seen
before were there also, and, at the far end of the row, Count Hugh.
He was apparently reconciled now with the kinsmen who had mocked
and despised him, though he seemed uncomfortable in their company.
His companions looked no happier, every one of them sour-faced with
suspicion.
Trumpets sounded, and as the heralds recited Duke
Godfrey’s name and titles, he rose and approached the throne. From
my position in the western aisle I could not see his face, but the
silence of the congregation left his words perfectly audible in
that cavernous hall. Prompted by the interpreter, he spoke the
words of the oath that had been agreed the night before: he swore
to respect the ancient boundaries of the Romans, to serve the
Emperor faithfully in battle and to restore to him all lands which
his ancestors rightfully held. Seven scribes sat at a table
recording every word, and when the oath was taken the Emperor’s
son-in-law, Bryennios, stepped forward to present a golden garland.
There would be much more gold to follow, I knew, for the Emperor
was ever generous to his defeated enemies.
Duke Godfrey retook his seat gracelessly, wearing
the garland like a crown of throns. Then the heralds called his
brother and I tensed, while across the hall seven pens sat poised
in the air to see what he would say. For a second I thought he had
stepped too close to the throne, that he would bring the Varangians
rushing down on him, but now he was on one knee mumbling indistinct
allegiance. He did not wait for Bryennios when he was done, but
marched back to his seat stiff with shame. A rash of pink scarred
his cheeks like plague-spots.
The oaths took almost an hour, followed by anthems
of acclamation and the liturgy of Easter. When the patriarch put
the cup of Christ to Baldwin’s lips I feared he would spit it back,
but he managed to choke it down under the stern eyes of his
brother. Then there were more hymns of praise and unity – the
message doubtless lost on the barbarians – and at last the long
procession into the cheering crowds of the Augusteion. A double
line of Varangians had parted the mob, forming a human corridor
between church and palace, and as I emerged into the sunlight I saw
the last of the Emperor’s retinue disappearing within. The Emperor
might be generous to his enemies, I reflected, but not kind: three
hours in church followed by the rigours of an imperial banquet
would reduce the Franks to the utmost misery. Doubtless they would
find compensations.
‘Weren’t you summoned to feast at the Emperor’s
table?’
I looked up. Sigurd was standing by a pillar beside
me, surveying his men with quiet pride. ‘I’ve spoken enough with
barbarians,’ I told him. ‘And not nearly enough with my
daughters.’
Sigurd nodded. ‘There’ll be more barbarians soon
enough. The logothete reports that the Normans will be here in a
week.’
‘They won’t cause trouble.’ Weariness spurred my
hope, but reason agreed. ‘Word of the Franks’ humiliation will
spread to them; they will think again before defying the Emperor
openly.’
‘And this time there’ll be no mad eunuch urging
them on. Though if there is,’ Sigurd added, ‘he’ll know better than
to draw Demetrios Askiates into his schemes.’
I smiled at the compliment, though I did not
deserve it. ‘I served Krysaphios’ purposes all too well – he could
have no complaint of me. He wished me to discover that the monk was
in league with the barbarians, that they plotted to usurp the
Emperor, so that he might have a pretext for insisting on their
destruction. He judged me perfectly – it was the Emperor’s
stubbornness he underestimated.’
Sigurd bridled with mock temper. ‘It was the
Varangians he underestimated,’ he told me, waving an arm at the
burnished cohorts before him. ‘If not for my sword in that
throne-room, Demetrios, your head would now be raised on a Frankish
spear. And the Emperor’s beside it.’
I laughed. ‘You are restored to favour now. And the
eunuch is gone.’ In my heart I could still find pity for
Krysaphios, for the terrible wounds he had suffered and the
treachery they had driven him to, but I could not forgive him for
balancing the empire on a sword edge.
‘Krysaphios had not learned the lesson of the
past,’ I mused aloud. ‘He was of a generation who believed that the
imperial office was their tool, to be filled, used or discarded as
they saw fit. A generation who turned all-conquering glory to
invasion and rebellion in fifty meagre years. They never saw that
the throne is too much like a serpent’s egg – most dangerous when
it is empty.’
To my chagrin, the Varangian laughed at my
melancholy reflections. ‘Will you use the Emperor’s reward to
retire and write epigrams? And can this be the same Demetrios
Askiates who four months ago was so reluctant to tie his fortunes
to those of the Emperor?’
‘Now I have no choice. I am marked as the Emperor’s
man, with all the advantage and prejudice that brings.’ When you
save a man’s life, I thought, you buy it with a small piece of your
own.
In the sky above, a breeze pushed away the scrap of
cloud which had covered the sun and I smiled. ‘And you, Sigurd? Are
you invited to the Emperor’s banquet, or will you join me for the
Easter meal?’
Sigurd swelled. ‘Do you believe that the Emperor
would allow himself into a roomful of his enemies without due
precaution? I will be in the Hall of Nineteen Couches, watching for
any Frank who waves so much as a quail-bone at him.’
I left Sigurd shouting orders at his company, and
pushed my way gradually out of the Augusteion towards the Mesi. It
felt strange to be watching the Emperor from a distance again, the
untouchable statue I had always known; those few days when I had
fought and argued and battled with the greatest men in the empire
already seemed far removed. Now the crisis was past and his orbit
would draw apart from mine, into the rarefied circles where even
the most magnificent moved with caution. He would be locked behind
a hundred doors, every one watched jealously by an army of
functionaries, and his words would come from the mouths of others.
Through every tribulation he would maintain a perfect stillness,
for he was the keystone of the empire, locking in the vaulting
ambition of his nobles and keeping it off the shoulders of the
people below. Though a single gem from his robes would have
supplied a year of my needs, I did not envy him it.
I turned off the Mesi and followed the road towards
my house. The streets were filled with families and children and
roasting lambs fresh from the market. The smell made me hungry
after long hours standing in the church, and I was glad to see my
own family already had the coals dutifully glowing under the
meat.
‘Did the barbarians behave?’ Anna stepped away from
the spit, leaving Zoe to turn it. ‘Or am I called to the palace to
bandage the Emperor again?’
‘Sigurd should see to it that you aren’t needed.
Except perhaps to sew up some barbarian skulls. I fear your career
at the palace may be finished.’
Anna lifted her eyebrows. ‘For a man who claims to
be a master of unveiling mysteries, you can be unduly ignorant,
Demetrios. My career at the palace is barely begun, for the empress
herself has sent word that she requires a physician to attend her.
I think the Emperor will be keen to keep me near, now that he has
found me.’
‘I thought you found him.’ The smoke
of lemon and rosemary played in my nose, stirring new hunger in my
stomach. ‘Bleeding and dying in the corridors of the palace, while
his attendants fluttered helplessly.’
Anna poked a knife into the lamb, and watched the
oily juices dribble down its side. They spat and popped in the
fire. ‘I think this is cooked. Helena is just fetching some bread
from the house.’
I rasped my knife over a stone, and began slicing
meat off the bones. It was troublesome work, for heat rose off the
coals and fat splashed my hands, so I did not hear the footsteps
behind me, nor even look when the shadow fell over me.
The sound of a plate crashing against my doorstep
drew my attention though. Helena was standing there amid shards of
pottery, staring at something past my shoulder like Mary in the
garden. I turned, and almost dropped my knife in the fire in
astonishment. It was Thomas, seeming taller and broader than ever
as he stood over me, yet with a nervous hesitancy in his
face.
‘I come back to you,’ he said simply.
I could see he did not speak to me, and I was about
to launch a hail of questions when I felt Anna’s hand against my
arm.
‘You’ll need another plate,’ she said, nodding to
Helena’s feet. ‘At least.’
‘I will bring two.’
Thomas had suffered the murder of his parents, the
abuse of the monk and now, I guessed from the scabbed blood on his
cheek, the betrayal of his race. He had also saved my life. Sharing
my table was the least he was due. How much else he desired I could
guess from the silent, awkward looks which he and Helena exchanged,
but I would address that later. Now I served him the thickest cut
of the meat, filled his cup to overflowing and did not say a word
when I saw his hand entwined with Helena’s, nor even when they
mumbled an excuse and walked down the street to where the cypress
tree grew. It was not a day for argument.
Much later, after the sun had set, I climbed to the
roof with a flagon of wine. The streets below were dark, save a few
patches of glimmering embers, but the sky was laden with stars. I
squinted at them, picking out the ancient constellations which
governed our lives. There was Lyra, and Krios the ram and Argo, and
a hundred others I had forgotten or could not piece together. When
I had named all I could I gave up, relaxed my eyes, and watched the
fragmented lights swirl together in patterns of my own imagining.
Sometimes beasts and heroes would emerge, sometimes the shapes of
leaves or fruits, but most often they were simply the formless
weavings of fancy.
Drawing my eyes down, I looked out over the roofs
and domes which surrounded me, and let my thoughts descend from the
stars to the lands beyond the empire. From the west, I knew, the
Normans were coming, and behind them the Kelts, while to the east
and south lay a wilderness of Turks, Fatimids, Ishmaelites and
Saracens. No wonder the Emperor had more than once nearly died
holding their dangers in balance. Doubtless while his empire
provoked the lust and envy of the world he would do so again. But
tonight his power endured, and under the heavens the queen of
cities slept.
Tελoς