If only I’d got straight on that bloody horse, I’d now be fifty yards beyond the camp, and I’d never have heard Nicephorus. You’ll understand that I’d still have been shitting myself from terror, if only I’d had anything left inside me to void. If I shut my eyes, I could still see Ludinus gloating into my face, and Priscus finishing what he’d begun. But I stepped away from the horse and looked up again at the sky. If Aelric of Richborough would already have been out of the camp, the Lord Senator Alaric had been told of work that needed to be done. Even so, I stood a while longer beside the horse. Grinding my teeth with annoyance took my mind off the less creditable fact that I’d broken out all over in a sweat, and I was trembling almost beyond control. But I did eventually step away from the horse. What other answer can you give when duty calls this plainly?
Chapter 54
‘Who dares disturb the repose of the Grand Chamberlain?’ Ludinus called in his grandest voice. It was a wasted effort. The barbarian who’d caught Nicephorus obviously hadn’t a word of Greek, and Seraphius, who did know Slavic, was lying dead somewhere out of sight. I stepped back out of the light of the turned-down lamp and let the barbarian try explaining himself now in broken Latin. Needless to say, the Grand Chamberlain Ludinus had never soiled his ears or tongue by learning any of the former Imperial language, and this wasn’t a conversation that got very far.
I’d already smeared dirt over my face, and, so long as I kept my mouth shut, I’d just be accepted as another barbarian who was tagging along beside the man who’d laid hands on the Count of Athens. Nicephorus hadn’t noticed me. Since he thought I was trussed up and awaiting his further instructions, there was no reason why Ludinus should give me any attention at all.
‘I don’t understand,’ Nicephorus now broke in. ‘Who are you?’ He pulled anxiously on his beard and looked round the partitioned-off area of the big tent where the eunuch had been housed. Like everything else in the camp, it was dirty and still clammy from the endless rains. But those brightly coloured rugs and hangings, and the profusion of glass bottles and the gold and ivory of the furniture, spoke of something beyond the comprehension of anyone who wasn’t in on the secret. I had been wondering on and off how much Nicephorus knew of what was happening. One brief and sideways glance at him, and I could be sure that, whatever else might have been in those Imperial letters he’d burned, it hadn’t been news of this.
Nicephorus licked very dry lips and looked away from a jewelled icon of the Emperor that had claimed his attention. ‘If you aren’t Kutbayan,’ he whispered, ‘who are you?’
Ludinus sat up in his low bed and stared back at Nicephorus. ‘A more appropriate question, my good fellow, is who are you?’ he asked more grandly still. As the mumbled explanation started, and stopped, and started again, he fussed with his pillows and put on to his face the sort of friendly smile you only ever see in a court eunuch who has something nasty in his heart.
Suddenly, he sat forward, his mouth hanging open. He put up a hand for silence. ‘You are telling me,’ he asked, ‘that there is a secret way into Athens?’ He threw a suspicious look in our direction, and I stepped politely back deeper into the shadows. ‘Who is that man behind you?’ he asked us both in a clear but conversational tone. The barbarian nodded and bowed. I forced myself to keep looking down at the compacted dirt floor of the tent. Ludinus stared at us a little longer, then simply motioned us out.
‘I don’t think I’ve seen you before,’ the barbarian said as we stood outside the tent. We were now deep into the first light of morning. I put my soft and manicured hands behind my back and smiled.
‘We all came in the other day,’ I said in a strong Lombardic accent. ‘You don’t keep us away when there’s raping and burning and killing to be done.’ We both laughed. Bearing in mind the vast numbers who’d come south, there was no reason why anyone should have seen me before. But I’d keep things vague. We fell silent, and I tried not to show how I was straining to hear the mostly whispered conversation a few feet away from us. If it was easy to guess its general nature, though, all I heard was a few cries of fright from Nicephorus, and a single burst of contemptuous laughter from Ludinus.
Now might have been the moment to jump the barbarian from behind, and to take his sword and go back in and settle those two bastards once and for all. But, if he chatted away easily enough about the joys he’d found in Decelea, the barbarian was standing back from me, and kept a hand near his sword.
I was about to suggest a quick search for beer among the dark and much smaller tents that surrounded us, when the leather flap went up, and Ludinus was blinking in the daylight. ‘Hold this man fast,’ he said in Greek. Neither of us moved. He sighed and muttered something about the missing Seraphius. ‘We have immediate business with the Great Chief,’ he added, still in Greek. This time, he spoke the name – ‘Kutbayan! Kutbayan!’ – and pointed to what I’d previously taken as the outer ring of tents, but that now showed itself as the nearest row in a great sea of tents that stretched into the unknown distance. And I’d thought it was all the barbarians under the walls of Athens. If not twenty million on the move, my own guessed figure had been childishly out.
I looked down again at the ground, and let the barbarian set hands on Nicephorus and shove him in the right direction. Ludinus looked angrily about – doubtless for Seraphius, but didn’t shout for him. Instead, he snorted and muttered something under his breath. Leaving us to follow at a slight distance, he set off in his courtly hobble along a narrow path that led between the greater mass of tents.
The whole world over, barbarians are filthy and chaotic in their living arrangements. I can’t say how long these had been camped here. But it was long enough for the surroundings to have been made into the usual sewer. We moved through hundreds – no, thousands of small tents. Most of these were still silent. Now and again, though, there was a woman or a few children trying to get a fire going. These were the lucky barbarians. Heaped up in the open, beyond the wide path through which we were moving, like logs stored for winter, what may have been thousands or tens of thousands of the thin and shrunken kept up as best they could the sleep that is the last refuge of the unhappy.
I could feel the opening heat of the sun behind me as we finally came to a wide avenue. There were no tents lining this, but rather a double row of bonfires, all dying low. Before each of these, I could see a huddle of stakes set into the ground. From each of these hung a scorched and naked body – men, women, sometimes a couple of children lashed together in a forced embrace. All were dead. From all about came the smell of roasted meat.
I didn’t dare to look properly about. Ludinus, though, did. He came to a stop beside a clump of five children who might have been tied up beside their mother. He walked slowly round the group, tittering softly into a dirty napkin. ‘Behold the justice of the Great Kutbayan!’ he trilled to a very silent Nicephorus. I thought for a moment he was looking into my face. And he was – but only to see if I was as pleased by all this as he was.
‘But, why?’ was all Nicephorus could whisper by way of reply. It was as if he’d really thought the common people of Athens were the limits of human degradation. If so, he’d never seen barbarians in their natural state. You could easily see the realisation that, if he’d thought the Athenians were his friends, no one here was likely to harbour kind thoughts for him of any kind. ‘What could they have done to deserve this?’
Ludinus smiled and stopped beside one of the largest of the slow-roasted bodies. ‘Why?’ he gloated. ‘Because they were alive and in the way – and because power is nothing unless it is used.’ He moved with surprising lightness of tread to another group of dead children. One of these had been torn apart by what may have been one of the braver wolves. They others were still tied in place, mouths open from their last piteous cries. ‘You will be pleased to know, my dear little Count of Athens, that my last action before leaving Constantinople was to have the Patriarch himself and all his friends placed under house arrest. When I return, it
will be with the heads of My Lords Priscus and Alaric – and I already have these in the bag, I can tell you.’
He giggled again, and now moved away from the bodies to push his face close to Nicephorus. ‘Nothing will then stop me from reordering the whole Empire so it can shine once more in its ancient glory. I will myself take the field against the Persian savages, and hurl them all the way back to Ctesiphon. Do you remember how, back in the days of the Great Justinian, it was the eunuch Narses who led the armies to victory when the professional generals had miserably failed? Be assured that the name of Ludinus will be the latest and most glorious in the roll of honour. Ours shall be evermore known as the Age of Ludinus. Heraclius himself will be nothing beside that!’ He stopped and stretched his arms out to the rising sun. He took out his napkin again and wiped away the drool that was running uncontrolled from between his flabby lips. ‘Truly, there is room only for one sun in the heaven,’ he added with a dramatic flourish of his hands.
To his credit, I saw Nicephorus shift nervously from one foot to the other. ‘But, Your Magnificence,’ he said, ‘we did agree on the list of those who should be saved after the fall of Athens—’
He was interrupted by a long titter. ‘We will bear your list in mind,’ Ludinus said. ‘But you shall certainly have your wish for Athens to be cleansed with fire. From what you tell me, fire is the least that it deserves!’ He laughed again and hugged himself.
From what I could see of his back, Nicephorus was having second thoughts. But it was too late now to pull back. The big leather tent of Kutbayan was only a few dozen yards away, and the guards who stood before its closed flaps were casting looks of mild interest in our direction.
It was also too late for me to act as I’d been hoping I might. Except with the knife that girl had given me, I was still unarmed, and the barbarian was both huge and fully armed. I am sure that, if I could remember and then describe every step of the way between the two tents, we could agree that certain opportunities had arisen. But I was far from at my best. If I did, at the time, see a couple of opportunities, it was always after they’d passed. It was as much as I could do to resist the urge to run back to the horses and keep walking in the right direction. I’ll say that I did find one possible opportunity as we approached the tent of Kutbayan. It was as the barbarian stopped and bent down to fiddle with the straps on his boots. I might then have got him from behind. Then, I could have butchered that piece of eunuch scum and offered Nicephorus his life if he’d make off with me. But it really was too late now. We were in full view, and I just couldn’t bring myself to an attack that, even if successful, would amount to suicide.
Ludinus smoothed his robe where it had come up over his thighs, and tottered forward to the big, heavily armed guards. ‘I come on Caesar’s behalf to address the Great Chief,’ he called in Greek. He stopped and waved both arms dramatically at the guards.
They looked over at us, but didn’t move.
Chapter 55
I’d imagined Kutbayan would be a huge thing with a beard to match. I’d thought of him any number of times these past few days as a fiend, roaring drunk on the blood and fear of the conquered. Nothing had prepared me for the beardless and rather elderly man who sat in his tent between two unarmed young assistants. If you leave aside the lack of writing materials, and the pronounced slittiness of his eyes, this might have been one of our own generals, receiving and dictating messages in his tent. But even before my own image of him could dissolve and reform itself, I knew this was indeed the Great Chief of terrible reputation. You could see that from the hushed manner of his assistants – and from the cold glitter of his eyes.
His first words were to us in Avar. When these brought no response, he switched into very good Slavic. ‘Where is the interpreter?’ he asked. He leaned back in his chair and waited.
As if he’d guessed the meaning, Ludinus frowned and looked about the tent. ‘I must speak urgently with the Great Chief,’ he said loudly in Greek.
There were a few blank looks. Another of the attendants who stood behind Kutbayan left off scratching the scars that kept his beard from growing and shrugged.
Without moving, Kutbayan raised his voice in faint annoyance. ‘Where is the unballed one who interprets?’ he asked. He waited again. When there was still no answer, he got up from his chair and took a step towards us.
Except for the two Greeks, we all threw ourselves to the ground. Without looking to see what everyone else was doing, I tried to blend in with a feeble attempt at a prostration. I looked round only when I could hear everyone else getting up. I was last back on my feet, and stood, looking firmly down at beaten earth that had smelled of blood.
I now heard Kutbayan draw breath. ‘I want someone here now who understands the language of the Greeks,’ he said in what didn’t rise above the sound of a polite conversation. One of his assistants leaned forward, and I caught a low whisper as to the whereabouts of a certain Kollo, who might still be drunk. Kutbayan frowned. ‘Now, get this pair of time-wasters out of my tent,’ he said. ‘They can come back when there’s someone to interpret.’ He sat down and pointed at the assistant who’d been relaying a message when we entered. He thought again, and raised a hand to cancel the instruction. He looked briefly at me, but then pointed at the man who’d led us to the tent. ‘You go and get him,’ he said.
The man bowed and nearly tripped over a stool as he hurried out into the fresh air.
I’ve said I hadn’t been able to bring myself to a suicide attack. But this was merely a calculated risk that bordered on the lunatic. I cleared my throat and didn’t bother with a foreign accent as I spoke in Slavic: ‘O, Great Chief, Leader of Men and Lord of All Creation,’ I said, ‘I know the language of these Greeklings from the time I spent among the Lombards.’
Nicephorus was first to speak. ‘Alaric!’ he croaked. ‘What are you doing here?’ He stared into my face with uncomprehending horror.
His face turning what may have been puce, Ludinus gave me the look of a man who’s just seen a ghost.
I reached forward and struck Nicephorus so hard across the face that he fell to his knees. ‘The Greekling, O Lord of All Creation, shows insufficient respect,’ I explained with a low bow at Kutbayan. ‘I heard them talking together as they came here.’ I stopped and went into a tremble that was entirely unacted. ‘They have news that will surely anger My Lord.’ I swallowed and stared up. ‘Will My Lord pardon me for conveying the filthiness that is within their black hearts?’
‘Speak freely, young Germanic, and freely have my pardon,’ came the formulaic reply. Kutbayan sat back in his chair and pressed his fingers together, a thin smile on his face.
I turned and faced Ludinus, who was now about to recover the use of his voice. ‘What have you to say before I get you tied over one of the livelier bonfires?’ I asked in a Greek that – just to be on the safe side – I made sure to stumble over a few times.
His answer was a shove into my chest so hard, I almost fell sprawling on to the ground. He stepped past me and made a low bow. ‘Kutbayan! Kutbayan!’ he cried in his most imploring voice. He smiled and reached out at the Great Chief to pluck the hem of his jacket. He pointed at me and shook his head. ‘Kollo – where is Kollo?’ he asked with desperate emphasis on the name.
He was interrupted by Nicephorus, who was now up on his knees and starting a babbled plea for mercy.
Ludinus twisted round to look at him. ‘Shut up!’ he hissed. He silenced the pleas with a sharp kick. ‘Keep your mouth shut if you don’t want to play this chancer at his own game.’ He turned back and would have started calling out again for the Great Chief’s own interpreter, when Kutbayan held up his own arms for silence. Ludinus stopped in mid-flow, and even let himself be pushed over to the wall of the tent by a couple of the assistants. One of them put a knife to his throat, and that was an end to his interruptions for the time being.
‘What are they saying?’ Kutbayan asked with a look into my face that nearly brought on a fart of terror.
He got up again from his chair. He glanced over to where Ludinus was still trying to smile and gesticulate for attention. He raised a hand for silence, and the knife pressed harder into the eunuch’s throat. When all was silent, he turned back to me.
I stared into what might have been the eyes of a snake. The problem with these remote barbarians is that you can never guess what they are thinking. At any moment, Kutbayan might have me dragged out for execution. Just as likely, he might embrace me. ‘The fat one is blaming the other for talking in front of me about their plans,’ I explained.
Kutbayan looked away for a moment to glare once more at Ludinus until he’d stopped trying to wave his arms for attention. He turned to me again. ‘And what will you tell me of these “plans”?’ he asked very softly.
‘They were talking to each other, O Great Chief,’ I whispered with faint horror, ‘about how King Heraclius has sent orders for you to depart from his realms – to depart or face the wrath of his soldiers.’ That was all I’d have dared say. But Nicephorus now came back into the conversation with an unstoppable flood of denunciations of me. I turned this neatly into a threat of what Heraclius would do if the ‘worthless old fool’ Kutbayan didn’t head back at once into the zone of starvation. I even used the endless pointing at me to advantage by talking of the Western barbarians – all as big as me – who were marching towards us with the Exarch of Ravenna at their head.
Kutbayan really wasn’t at all as Priscus had let me think him. He didn’t lose his temper. He didn’t reach for the nearest weapon or set about the grovelling Count or the now silent Ludinus with a whip. He wasn’t in any sense your normal barbarian. He certainly was no fool. He waited as I ran out of inspiration and fell silent. He listened to the continuing babble of Nicephorus and looked at a desperately thoughtful Ludinus. He also was no fool. Unless I could bring this to a rapid end, he’d find some way of getting his point across; that, or Kollo would stumble in with enough Greek to push me out of the conversation.
The Ghosts of Athens (Aelric) Page 40
