A Burning Sea

by Theodore Brun

  The emperor’s solar was as it had been. Quiet, and dark now. The lamps had all burned out. He went inside, fearing the worst. The other guard’s body was sprawled, limbs crooked and hard, a pool of darkness spread around him. There was nothing to be done for him.

  Instead Erlan went to the emperor. Leo was lying on his side, one arm flung out above him, facing the wall. Motionless. Around his head, too, was a puddle of blood, not so large as the other. Erlan knelt down beside him, his knees soaking instantly in the dark liquid.

  If the emperor was dead, he dreaded to think what the future held, for the city or for him and his friends. He rolled Leo onto his back. His face was half-covered with blood, his eyes closed. Around his neck the cruel garrotte was still there. Erlan pulled it off him and tossed it away.

  As he did so, he saw he had blood on his fingers.

  Unless you drink the blood of the king of kings. . .

  Unless. . .

  Cautiously, he reached behind the nape of the emperor’s neck. The blood there was still warm to the touch. He brought up his hand to his face and for a second stared at his fingers.

  With a sudden movement he shoved them into his mouth and sucked on them, tasting metal on his tongue. He swallowed down the blood, half-gagging, and waited. Waited. . . for what? For something. . .

  But nothing happened. Nothing!

  His heart cracked with disappointment.

  Kill him, a voice snarled in his head. Kill the whoreson now.

  ‘No,’ he answered aloud.

  A soft moan sounded under him, jolting him from his dark thoughts. He slipped an arm round Leo’s shoulders and levered him up until the emperor’s head lay in his lap. Leo moaned again.

  ‘Where. . .’ he murmured. ‘What. . .’

  ‘Lie still,’ Erlan said in a numb whisper. ‘You’re safe.’ And then he called for help and went on calling, while his eyes burned with bitter tears.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Erlan leaned forward on the couch to scratch at Aska’s ears and winced. His entire back was blue from his fall. He felt like an old man – and a failure. At least the dog seemed to feel some sympathy for him, he reflected. Aska lifted his muzzle and let Erlan tug at the scraggy coat covering his chest.

  ‘He’ll be fat as Einar if you keep feeding him so much,’ he called out to Grusha in the next room. The hound buried his nose in Erlan’s lap for another scratch. ‘Won’t you, you old flea-bag?’

  ‘He’s your dog,’ answered Grusha, appearing at the door with a heap of folded robes in her arms. ‘Take him for a walk in the gardens if you’re so bothered.’

  ‘He needs a forest not a bunch of herb beds and pruned bushes. He needs the scent of a hind.’

  ‘Well, he’s not like to get that for a while. Oh, I nearly forgot,’ said Gerutha, laying down her pile and rummaging around in the pouch at her belt. ‘I have something for you.’ Eventually she produced a small, ivory-handled knife. ‘I found it in a stall on the Mese near Constantine’s Forum. I thought you’d like it. Here.’

  He took it from her. The blade was hardly three inches long. ‘What do you expect me to do with that? Peel fruit?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she laughed. ‘You’re always saying a man can never have too many knives. So there’s one more. You could just say thank you.’

  ‘All right then. Thank you,’ he said, and slid the little blade inside his boot.

  ‘Is there any word on the emperor?’ asked Lilla, who was sitting before her mirror arranging the last details of her hair.

  ‘He’s stable at least. But still on his back.’ Erlan rose and went to lean against the window frame, gazing east across the straits to the grey hills beyond.

  ‘Do you think this changes things?’

  ‘I don’t know. He seemed adamant before.’

  ‘Hmm. Are they any closer to catching the assassin?’

  Erlan shook his head. They weren’t likely to be either. Not unless he told them what he knew. But he had decided to keep the identity of Leo’s would-be killer to himself. Lucia was right. She had given him a chance and he had repaid her service to him in bad coin. With this, though, the debt was settled. He wouldn’t let her go a second time.

  ‘If Leo is still refusing to reach out to the Bulgars, we have to think of some other way to shorten the siege.’ She turned from her mirror. ‘This makes it even more important to win over Nikolaos.’

  ‘Nikolaos, Nikolaos,’ he scowled. ‘He’s all you talk about. You’re—’ He cut himself short.

  ‘What? Obsessed?’ She gave an angry snort. ‘We’re going to need every advantage we can find. When we return—’

  ‘First things first, huh?’

  She turned back to the mirror with a scowl of her own. Seeing her back to him, he relented. Gods, enough had happened that they didn’t need to bicker like this. But he was still concerned. Lilla had been a guest in the fire-maker’s house three times in the past four days. She meant to go again today. He knew her well enough that once she set her mind on something, there was no gainsaying her. He came up behind her, his hands slipping around her hips. ‘What’s he like – this son of Kallinikos?’

  Her hands settled over his. ‘Quiet. Insular,’ she said to the face in the mirror. ‘I’ve tried everything to charm him but he seems immune to it. I mean, he’s not unfriendly. But nervous. . . Awkward around me.’

  ‘He’s probably terrified of you,’ Erlan chuckled. ‘Is he married?’

  ‘He has a wife. A tiny woman who never says a word. She seems more servant than companion to him. At least from what I’ve seen.’

  ‘You should be careful. I know the emperor introduced you but I don’t think he’d be too happy about your getting too close to his firemaker.’

  ‘He’s got more important things to worry about than me—’

  ‘I’m serious. Besides, there are dangerous folk prowling the city.’ Erlan was certain that Lucia couldn’t be the only enemy skulking within the walls.

  ‘I know what I’m doing.’

  ‘Do you?’

  She tipped back her head and kissed him. ‘I’ll be careful.’

  There was a bang on the door. When Gerutha answered it, there stood one of the green-cloaked sentinels with a summons for Erlan to the imperial chamber.

  Erlan found Leo much recovered, sitting up in the largest bed Erlan had ever seen, surrounded by courtiers. But he halted his business as soon as Erlan entered. His neck and head were bandaged. The sight of them brought back the bitter reality: king of kings Leo may be, but he was just like any other man.

  ‘Northman, I owe you my life.’

  ‘It was fate, not I, that saved you.’

  ‘Fate? Huh! We call it the hand of providence. Well, then – let us ask more of this hand while it is in a giving mood.’

  ‘Majesty?’

  ‘I’ve decided to take up your suggestion. Whatever it costs us, whatever comes after – we are going to destroy Maslama’s army. The Bulgars will be the hammer, our walls will be the anvil, and the Arab horde will be crushed between them.’ The sudden thrill of action flickered in Erlan’s veins. ‘The mission I’m sending will be small but effective. I have hand-picked the escort myself. The eparch will be our spokesman. He alone was in the same office when the last treaty was sealed. Prince Kormesy, I hope, will look more favourably on a familiar face.’

  ‘I wish the mission good fortune then, Majesty.’

  The dark rings of Leo’s weary eyes lit up with amusement. ‘Don’t be a fool. You’re going with them man. It was your idea.’

  Erlan nodded, feeling a strange relief at the prospect of getting out of the oppressive confines of the city. He needed to stretch his wings. ‘You do me honour, sire.’

  ‘We’ll soon see whether my confidence in you is misplaced. But I suspect not. You leave tomorrow.’

  ‘Tomorrow!’

  ‘Of course! As you said yourself, why wait?’

  ‘Very good, Majesty. If so, I have one request.’
/>   ‘Go on.’

  ‘My countryman, Einar Fat-Belly – may I have him with us? He’s a good man.’

  ‘The axe-wielder!’ Leo laughed hard and then regretted it, touching gingerly at the back of his skull. ‘Great God, I wish I had another hundred like him! Yes, yes. Take him. Whatever you think best. Alexios will tell you the rest.’

  ‘The man said it had come from a place called Taugas, very far to the east.’ Lilla smiled at Nikolaos, handing him the carefully folded stole. ‘It’s come a long way for me to give to you.’

  ‘This is pure silk.’ Nikolaos’s gentle eyes widened in surprise. ‘It’s. . . exquisite.’ He let it fall out to its full length, a gorgeous tight weave that shifted with the play of light from dark blue to a rich evergreen. ‘Your generosity leaves me. . . well, speechless, my lady.’

  ‘Then say nothing at all.’ She patted his hand. It had cost her two gold pieces. Probably she had been cheated, but it was surely a worthy investment. Despite what Leo had said about paying the son of Kallinikos handsomely, his home was modest. Clean and bright and well-heated, but simple in its furnishing and floorings, with none of the flourishes of other grander houses she had seen.

  ‘I don’t know what I shall do with it,’ he said shyly.

  ‘Save it then. For the celebrations of the great victory you will have won the city when the siege is broken.’ She chuckled softly. ‘Or else give it to your wife.’

  ‘Oh, it’s too good for her,’ he said automatically, then seemed to regret it. ‘I mean—’

  ‘It’s fine,’ she interrupted with a reassuring touch of his hand. ‘Take it as a mark of our friendship. Yes?’

  ‘You are too kind, my lady. I have nothing to give you.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, pinning down his elusive gaze. ‘You do.’

  ‘My lady?’

  ‘You’ve heard all about my homeland. You know the good things I have to tell about a good land.’ Her voice dropped a little. ‘But I have spared you its sorrows. As I have spared you my own.’

  ‘I—I am sorry to hear there are any,’ he stammered.

  ‘No matter.’ She shook her head. ‘But if our friendship means anything to you, brief as it has been, then you have something of great value to share with me.’

  The light of understanding dawned slowly in his bovine eyes.

  ‘Your knowledge,’ she said. ‘They call it your genius, don’t they?’ She smiled. ‘Indeed, it is a spark that was born in your family. But the fire your father lit must spread.’

  He said nothing.

  ‘I need it,’ she said simply. ‘If I am to help my people, I beg of you. Share with me what you know.’

  He stood frozen. Slowly his mouth opened, then a frown began to form between his heavy black eyebrows. ‘No,’ he said at last, a meek outrage in his voice. ‘No. My father swore us all to secrecy on his deathbed. We brothers swore again between ourselves. No!’ His gentle voice rose now. ‘This is intolerable. Is this what you came to me for? All along? Our friendship is a sham. You wanted to use me.’

  ‘Not at all, Nikolaos – you misunderstand me—’

  ‘Oh, I think I understand well enough! Besides, what you want is abhorrent. Why – WHY – would you want to propagate such a weapon? You look like a fair and gentle woman but in there beats the heart of a ravening monster.’ He pointed accusingly at her chest.

  ‘You cannot know the reasons why I need it. Why my people need it.’

  ‘Your people!’ he spat. ‘Mother of God, the one curse you should want to keep from your people is this.’

  ‘Then even you don’t believe in it.’

  ‘I believe it’s a necessity. I believe now we have it, God has granted it as a shield. But only as a shield, not as a sword. We do not use it to oppress other tribes and nations. We do not wield it to steal lands and riches, or to take more than is our due. We protect. That is all.’

  ‘And what if one has already taken everything from me?’ she said, her gaze fixing his like a rivet. ‘You know nothing of me. You don’t know what I’ve suffered. I am no monster. But I must contend with monsters, yes. And something monstrous is what I need to overcome them.’

  ‘My lady, you are mistaken.’ He shook his head. ‘Here, take your gift. It is not welcome. You are not welcome.’ He pressed the dark silk into her hands. ‘Please leave.’

  ‘As you wish,’ she said, the taste of defeat sour in her throat. At the door, she stopped and dropped the stole on a side table. ‘Give it to your wife. It’s the least she deserves.’

  Katāros watched Lilla leave from the shadow of the portico across the street. Nearby, the bells of St Stephen’s basilica tolled the doleful hour, when the grey gloom of evening thickened into night. He waited until she had passed, her head down in her hurry to reach the corner of the Grand Portico that would take her back towards the palace.

  The guards posted on Nikolaos’s door stood erect but inert. He had but to show his face to them, a murmur of imperial business, and they would let him pass.

  Nikolaos appeared a little shaken when he showed the high chamberlain into his reception room, which overlooked the little courtyard.

  ‘You seem agitated, my friend,’ Katāros said.

  ‘A little distracted, that is all. Oh, I forget myself. Here, let me take your cloak.’ Nikolaos came around the back of him and drew the dark woollen cloak from his shoulders, surely catching a breath of the eunuch’s perfume, worn for his benefit. Katāros possessed many scents – some masculine, others more feminine in note, wearing each as the mood took him, or else the occasion. Tonight he wore a rich, peppery oil, offering an afterthought of cardamom and saffron. It had served him well in the past.

  He had taken trouble over his appearance too. Subtle outlines of kohl to enhance his eyes, his long mane of black hair combed till it shone and falling loose down his back, a deep red gown draped over one shoulder with a golden girdle and black slippers. He saw his host’s reaction, the flicker of something in his eyes, instantly suppressed. Katāros knew the man, knew his mouse of a wife. A man didn’t marry a woman like that unless he had something to hide.

  ‘You must be in need of refreshment, my lord,’ said the fire-maker, suddenly at sea in the room he knew so well, picking up random objects and absently putting them down again. At last he found the silver platter on which the wine and glasses stood. ‘I’m flattered by your visit. Is your business urgent?’

  ‘Necessary. Not urgent. I have no need to rush away. We can enjoy a drink. ’

  ‘Good, good. Please.’ He offered Katāros a place on the couch. The chamberlain slid into it while Nikolaos finished pouring out the wine. He handed Katāros a cup, stooping awkwardly and then standing back. ‘What is this about?’

  ‘Please.’ It was Katāros’s turn to be gracious. ‘I cannot have you standing there like some schoolboy at his lessons. There is plenty of room.’ He shifted artfully to one side, but not too far, so that when Nikolaos sat down they lay quite close together.

  ‘Your health,’ said Katāros. They touched glasses and Nikolaos spilled a drop of wine between them. He sniggered nervously. ‘Forgive me. My hands are clumsy.’

  ‘A little spillage will not hurt.’

  The fire-maker smiled. ‘I suppose not.’

  The door opened then and the small figure of his wife appeared. Katāros nearly sighed in frustration, anticipating laborious introductions, but Nikolaos was already on his feet. ‘Out, out, you little pest! Can’t you see I’m busy?’

  The humble creature ducked her head remorsefully, mumbled something and retreated from the room. ‘Go to bed, woman. We may be some time,’ he called after her. ‘And close the door!’

  The door was duly closed.

  A sardonic smile crept over Katāros’s lips. He hadn’t marked the fire-maker for a domestic tyrant.

  ‘Now,’ said Nikolaos, regaining his composure. ‘What can I do for you?’

  They talked for some time. Katāros had made an art of recycling endless str
eams of figures – quantities, delivery times, budgets, output, source materials, wastage, and so on and so on – pausing only to season the dull business of administration with occasional forays into courtly gossip, which seemed to delight Nikolaos no end. And the more he drank the more he laughed, and the more he allowed the eunuch’s large dark eyes to linger on his, or the back of their fingers to brush, or a fleeting hand to alight upon his knee when something was ‘too funny’.

  And so the web was spun. At last Katāros sensed the time had come. ‘Truly,’ he said, ‘you are a wonder.’

  ‘You flatter me.’

  ‘Not at all. There is no more important man in the city. Think of the power you possess in these hands.’ He reached out and took hold of the fire-maker’s hand, smoothing his thumb over the pale palm, as if he expected to feel the secret to the man’s magic engraved there. His eyes snapped up, fixing Nikolaos’s gaze in a grip they couldn’t escape. ‘A toast to you.’

  ‘To me? Well then, if you like.’

  ‘The most brilliant man in Byzantium.’ They touched glasses and sipped their wine. Katāros peered over the rim of his glass. ‘And the most desirable.’

  Nikolaos gave a nervous little snort. ‘You jest.’

  ‘Not at all. Genius has an enchantment all of its own.’

  Nikolaos’s mouth half-opened, caught between responses, his eyes narrowed. Katāros calmly took away his glass and laid it with his own upon the floor. Then, without another word he slid closer, his silk robe moving easily across the couch, striking before any second thought could enter the fire-maker’s mind. He slipped his hand around his head, raking long nails through his hair, while the other foraged through the folds of the fire-maker’s robes, the tips of his fingers brushing a nipple as it slid down further and pulled him closer.

  Nikolaos was ready to yield. Their mouths touched, Katāros tasted tired wine on his breath, scenting that indefinable maleness that he himself lacked. And excitement. The fire-maker reeked of it. Katāros felt nothing. He waited until the man’s tongue began to respond, to explore his mouth with increasing boldness, then he pulled away.