Hauk entered the iwan with a swagger, cutting a smart figure in a new costume of Viking design tailored from Bukhara silk, the hems brocaded with gold in the Arab fashion. He acknowledged the company with bows and smiles.
‘I won’t keep you long. I’ve come to announce my leave-taking. In two days I’ll lead my men back to our ships.’
‘You must have done good business,’ Vallon said. ‘What trade stuffs will you be carrying?’
‘Carpets of incomparable workmanship, five hundred knots to the inch and dyed in gorgeous reds with a compound extracted from insects…’
‘Cochineal,’ said Hero.
‘Fine silks and muslins,’ Hauk continued. ‘Silver and cornelian and tourmaline jewellery. If I bring back only a quarter of the goods, I’ll be the richest man in Svealand.’
‘That’s quite a large “if”,’ Vallon said. ‘The Kara Kum will roast you alive at this time of year. Even if you cross it, you might find someone has stolen your ships. You could wait a long time on that shore before someone rescued you. And deliverance wouldn’t be on your terms.’
Hauk grinned. ‘I have your measure by now. You’re loath to weaken your fighting force and hope to persuade me to remain with you all the way to China.’
‘I’d certainly feel more confident embarking on the hardest part of our journey with your warriors at our side.’
Hauk shook his head. ‘My men have had enough of deserts. They long to smell salt water again.’
Vallon extended his hand. ‘Then I’ll thank you for your service and wish you a safe journey and a happy homecoming.’ He kept hold of Hauk’s hand. ‘I’m only sorry that our passage to Bukhara didn’t throw up opportunities to see your men display their war skills. If you stayed another month, I expect I’d see their mettle tested to the limit.’ He released Hauk’s hand. ‘Still… so far as it’s gone, our alliance has been useful.’
Hauk stiffened at the implied slight. ‘There remains the matter of outstanding wages.’
Vallon cast a bored look at Aiken. ‘Settle the account.’
Hauk laughed. ‘I’ll say this for you, Vallon. You’re not a stinter. Perhaps you’ll dine with me tomorrow evening.’
‘Time presses. I’m afraid I’ll have to forgo the pleasure.’ Vallon bowed with finality. ‘God speed you and keep you.’
Hauk bowed back. ‘And you.’
He was almost at the door when Vallon’s servant stepped through it again.
‘The guides, General.’
Hauk made to step around the servant.
‘Stay a while,’ said Vallon. ‘Even though our paths take us in different directions, these gentlemen might give you some useful information. They’re Sogdians, experts on Silk Road trading, fellows of a guild that’s been advising and leading merchants for more than five hundred years.’
Two men advanced through the door in close step – a strange-looking pair whose strangeness wasn’t readily apparent. All Vallon could tell at first sight was that they looked remarkably alike and didn’t fit either the Asian or Western mould. They had straight reddish hair as fine as an infant’s and raisin-coloured eyes in curiously ageless faces. They wore conical hats tilted forward at the crown and knee-length silk brocade jackets flared below the waist and embroidered with roundels enclosing deer each side of a stylised tree. Their close-fitting trousers were tucked into calf-length kid boots worked with silver thread in a fish-scale pattern.
They bowed as one, courteous yet not at all subservient. ‘An Yexi and An Shennu at your service,’ said the left-hand one in passable Greek. ‘Those are our Chinese names. People who don’t speak our tongue find it difficult to pronounce our given names. His Eminence the Trade Secretary sent word that you’re travelling to China and seek guides with expert knowledge of the routes and the conditions you’re likely to encounter. If his recommendation isn’t sufficient, allow me to present references from previous clients.’
Judging by the stack of yellowed pages, some of the documents dated back to the early days of Christianity. Vallon handed the pile to Hero. ‘We’ll study them with interest. For now, tell us your qualifications in your own words.’
‘We’re Sogdians, members of a brotherhood that has been guiding trains to and from China for thirty generations. Unlike local guides, who will take you only as far as the next oasis, we’ll accompany you for the entire journey, smoothing your passage at every stage and ensuring that you make the most favourable transactions. We have relatives, business partners and agents in all the Silk Road centres, including Chang’an, the former Chinese capital. My cousin and I are fluent in all the principal languages you’ll encounter – Arabic, Persian, Chinese, Tibetan and Uighur. We can also communicate in Khitan and the tongues of peoples you’ve never heard of.’
‘What’s he saying?’ Hauk demanded.
Hero supplied a summary while Vallon continued his questioning.
‘How many times have you made the journey?’
‘I was twelve when I travelled to Chang’an for the first time, fifteen when I returned. Since then I’ve followed the Silk Road more than a dozen times.’ An Yexi saw Vallon’s eyes narrow in calculation. ‘I’m older than I look. Sixty-three to be precise. We’re a long-lived race. My father celebrated his hundredth birthday last year, having made his last journey to China at the age of seventy-eight.’
‘Did you have dealings with the Byzantine mission that passed through Bukhara last year?’
‘We offered our services to their commander. He declined, saying our rates of commission were too high.’
Vallon crossed his arms. ‘Name them.’
‘One fifth of the value of your merchandise in the Bukhara market. We’ll need to make a detailed inventory.’
Vallon hunched forward. ‘A fifth! That’s outrageous.’
‘I’ll present the same facts I laid before your predecessor. If you make your own way, recruiting guides and camel trains at every oasis, expect to lose more than a tenth of your treasury in bribes, tolls and taxes. Add another tenth for goods pilfered and supplies overcharged. Throw in the time you’ll lose haggling and I guarantee you’ll reach China half as wealthy as when you left Bukhara. If you reach it. Employ us and there’s every chance that you’ll arrive in Kaifeng richer than you started. Through our network of agents, we know which goods command the highest prices.’
‘Give me an example.’
‘The fashion among the Song court ladies this year is for Afghan tortoiseshell and Arabian coral. Buy shell in the Bukhara mart and I guarantee that in Kaifeng your investment will reap a ten-fold reward.’
‘A bold claim.’
An Shennu tapped the documents. ‘Supported by the testimonials.’
‘What happened to the last Byzantine expedition?’
‘Reports and rumours agree that they perished in the Taklamakan Desert, east of Khotan. Bandits ambushed them after their guides deserted.’
Vallon had worked out what was so unsettling about the Sogdians. They answered as if they were one and the same person, each picking up from where his counterpart had left off, mirroring each other’s gestures. ‘Are you twins?’
‘We’re cousins, as I’ve already said. We’re a close-knit race.’
‘Christians? Muslims? What?’
‘Manicheans.’
Hero explained. ‘The Manicheans view the universe as the conflict between light and dark, good and evil. They believe that all earthly things contain various amounts of light particles trapped in dark matter, except for the sun and moon which were created from undefiled light. The Prince of Darkness created man from the copulation of devils in order —’
‘Heretics or heathens,’ said Vallon. He scrutinised the Sogdians again. Even now it was difficult to tell them apart. ‘So you’ve made the journey to Kaifeng.’
‘No,’ said An Yexi. Or possibly it was An Shennu. ‘The furthest we’ve travelled is Chang’an. The new capital lies a month’s journey further east, on the Yellow River.’
&
nbsp; ‘When was the last time you guided a caravan to China?’
‘Four years ago.’
Vallon lolled back. ‘I’m not surprised business is slow. I suggest you lower your commission.’
‘Our rates have little to do with our lack of employment. Silk Road trade has withered under competition from the new sea routes. Demand for Chinese silk has declined as Western lands have established their own factories. Today, China’s main exports are chai and porcelain – bulk goods more easily transported by sea than by land. A single vessel can carry as much porcelain as a caravan, with a better chance of delivering its cargo undamaged.’
‘You’re saying there’s a sea route between China and the West?’
‘From the Chinese port of Canton, cargoes are sent by stages as far as India, Persia and Egypt. Perhaps further. That far west my speculations give way to your certain knowledge.’
‘The sea route doesn’t reach Constantinople.’
‘But if it goes as far as Persia,’ Hero said, ‘perhaps we might return along it.’
‘Let’s concentrate on our immediate goal,’ Vallon said in French. ‘Do we employ these guides on such stiff terms?’
‘I say we must. Master Cosmas used Sogdian guides to escort him to Samarkand and spoke highly of their integrity.’
Vallon faced the cousins. ‘I’ll consider what you’ve told us and make a decision soon.’
‘Don’t delay. Even if we left tomorrow, we would be crossing the Taklamakan at the height of summer, and we wouldn’t reach China until midwinter.’
A trumpet blew outside the caravanserai and Vallon heard heated voices. He strode onto the balcony as the gate swung open to admit a Karakhanid column led by the officer who’d intercepted the expedition outside Bukhara.
‘This doesn’t look like a courtesy call,’ Josselin said.
Heralded by two trumpeters, the commander halted under the iwan and looked up at Vallon, tapping a sealed document against his wrist. ‘I carry a summons commanding you to appear before the chief justice.’
‘On what charge?’
‘The court is convened. Your presence is demanded forthwith.’ The commander turned his horse. ‘I’ll be waiting outside.’
Vallon watched the cavalry trot back through the gates. ‘Does anyone know what this is about?’
‘Some of the troopers must have been involved in an affray,’ said Josselin. ‘Or taken liberties with a woman.’
‘It’s more serious than that,’ Wayland said.
Vallon looked at him.
‘Two nights ago I rescued Zuleyka.’
Vallon boggled. ‘You did what?’
‘I entered her owner’s house at night and took her from the harem. Nobody was hurt.’
The blood drained from Vallon’s face. ‘You broke into a man’s house at night and made off with his property? My God, do you realise the seriousness of your crime? It could sabotage the entire enterprise, jeopardise our lives. And for what?’ Spittle flew from his mouth. ‘A slave girl, a dancing whore…’ He lunged at Wayland.
Hero threw himself between them. ‘Now isn’t the time. We’re expected in court.’
Vallon backed off, ugly with rage. ‘I thought I could forgive you anything, but not this. Not this.’ Sick with anger, he allowed his servant to lead him away and smarten him up for the hearing.
On descending to the courtyard, he ordered Otia and Josselin to remain behind and put the troopers on maximum alert. ‘Don’t admit any soldiers without my orders. Hero, I need you with me. As for you,’ he said to Wayland. ‘You’ll join me to answer the charges.’
‘I’m coming too,’ Hauk said.
‘The affair doesn’t concern you.’
‘Yes, it does. The Karakhanids won’t make any distinction between your force and mine.’
Vallon didn’t speak again until they entered the Registan, a huge ceremonial square that stretched away empty except for a few soldiers scattered around its margins. On the far side, erected on an artificial mountain, stood the Ark, a brutal walled complex housing the citadel, palace, treasury, barracks, court of law and prison.
‘You must have had accomplices,’ Vallon said to Wayland.
‘I acted alone.’
‘Don’t lie. I smell Lucas in this stinking mess, and you probably enlisted help from your Turkmen friends. I’ll root them out, believe me.’
‘It’s my responsibility alone. If the court decides against us, I’ll admit my part and pay the price.’
‘Yes, you will. If I have to see you swing in order to save my mission, then so be it.’
They were in the middle of the Registan, the entrance to the Ark a dark slot in the blinding sunlight.
‘Suppose I’d asked you to take action to save Zuleyka?’ Wayland said.
Vallon ground his jaws. ‘I would have negotiated for her release. Reluctantly, but I would have done it. You must have known I would, so why didn’t you come to me?’
‘Because your intervention would have been fruitless. The merchant who bought Zuleyka is the same man who bid for Lucas, the man who set one of his thugs on Hero with a knife.’
‘I would have appealed to the trade secretary.’
‘And if he’d refused to take our side?’
Vallon didn’t answer.
‘I understand the Turkmen better than you do,’ Wayland said. ‘I’ve lived with them for nine years and know that the glue binding them together is allegiance to a strong leader. You’re our commander, yet you ignored the first slight —’
‘The loss of the gypsy girl wasn’t a slight. It was a relief.’
‘I’m not talking about Zuleyka. Bandits snatched Lucas and sold him in Bukhara without you lifting a finger to save him. If Aiken hadn’t spotted him, if Hero hadn’t bought him, he would have faded from your memory by now.’
Vallon set his face at the approaching arch.
‘Hero asked the secretary if one of our troopers had been consigned to the slave market. He denied any knowledge and you didn’t press the issue. Scores of Bukharans must know that Lucas was one of your soldiers and that you did nothing to claim him. The message that brigands can take any one of us without fear of reprisal will outrun us.’
‘Wayland makes a fair point,’ Hero said.
‘Who asked your opinion?’ Vallon snapped.
‘Another thing,’ Wayland said. ‘I bought Zuleyka on the Caspian coast. Legally she’s mine.’
‘I’ve yet to see your money.’
‘In which case, the gypsy maiden remains your property. Consider that.’
Vallon glanced at Wayland and as quickly looked away. ‘One thing’s for certain. That girl’s no maiden.’
The Ark’s massive inward-sloping walls discouraged further speech. They ascended a ramp and passed through a huge portal bastioned on each side with towers connected by walkways. Beyond it a long passage bored towards a sunlit court. The walls amplified the clopping hooves. Chains and manacles lay coiled in cell-like recesses on each side.
They emerged onto a terrace of dazzling white marble and the Bukharan commander led his charges on a diagonal to one of the façades fronting the courtyard. Guards relieved Vallon of his sword.
‘I want a receipt.’
The commander began to demur. Vallon spoke through his teeth. ‘I represent His Imperial Majesty Alexius Comnenus. Give me a receipt.’
A scribe hastily summoned penned the document and then the commander hurried Vallon and his co-defendants into the court. The vaulted chamber must have been thirty yards long and as many feet high. At the far end, on a throne behind a rank of guards, sat the Kazi Kalan or chief justice, holding in his lap an axe of office larger and more splendid than the one the trade secretary had carried. Vallon marched towards him and didn’t halt until the guards blocked his progress with a wall of pikes. Vallon glared at the justice – a glandular man with a beard cut like an axe and sad fish-like eyes above sacs the colour of plums. He sat half-sideways swathed in a white silk gown voluminou
s enough to make a caique’s sail, its folds so artfully hung that it must have taken a team of dressers half a morning to arrange.
To the right of the chief justice and his legal team stood Yusuf the trade secretary, looking uncomfortable. To the left a knot of scowling men surrounded the plaintiff, a tall cadaverous figure whose hennaed beard bore an unfortunate resemblance to pubic hair. Vallon loathed him at first sight.
He pointed at him. ‘Is this the thief? Is this the rogue?’
The prosecuting team twitched in surprise. One of them, with a face like the crack of doom, stepped forward. ‘Sa’id al-Qushair is the plaintiff, the gentleman who has brought serious charges against you. The men attending him are his witnesses.’
‘What charges?’
‘Trespass, assault, theft and other gross violations.’
Vallon snorted. ‘Completely baseless.’
‘That is for this court to establish.’
For the rest of the morning, the prosecutor laid out the case against Vallon, calling one witness after the other. All agreed that two days ago, in the early hours, three armed men – soldiers under Vallon’s command – had entered the plaintiff’s residence by stealth, breaking into the harem quarters and injuring one of the plaintiff’s senior wives before carrying away by force a young slave woman recently acquired by the plaintiff. The men of the household had given pursuit, but the kidnappers had escaped after killing one of the plaintiff’s horses. A savage hound had been involved, too.
Vallon stood tapping his empty scabbard while the evidence mounted up, occasionally darting evil looks at the plaintiff, who responded with appeals to God or mock lunges at Vallon.
The last witness stood down and the prosecutor turned to Vallon.
‘Those are the charges. Do you deny them?’
‘I deny them all. My men didn’t steal Zuleyka. How could I steal my own property?’ Vallon pointed at Hauk. ‘I purchased the girl from this gentleman two months ago on the west coast of the Caspian Sea. Ask him.’
They did, and Hauk established that he had indeed sold Zuleyka to Vallon.
The chief justice summoned his legal team and there followed a lengthy conference concerning laws criminal and civil, tort, points of jurisprudence and nomology as they bore on the case of slaves who escaped from one owner only to find themselves under another’s bondage – citing precedents going back to the time of Muhammad.
Imperial Fire Page 36
