Justin, looking on, said, "Are you certain you wish to proceed? You have much to lose by continuing."
I glanced at King Harald, who had quickly mastered his amazement. It would not be long before he was again calculating the extent of his grievance in blood. "We have much to gain, also," I said. "We will follow wherever the path leads."
"It leads through here," he replied, indicating the massive central doorway deep beneath high stone arches. "Beyond this door beats the heart of the empire."
Stepping into the doorway, Titus rapped on the door with his bronze rod. In a moment, a smaller door opened within the larger and a gateman peered out. "Scholarae Titus, Chief Guard of the Bucoleon Gate," he said. "I am bringing emissaries to the emperor."
The gateman regarded the barbarians, then shrugged and opened the door; Titus motioned for us to follow and we were admitted into a stone-paved yard bounded by high walls on all four sides. Thick vines grew on the walls, the leaves of which had coloured and were beginning to fall. The breeze swirled in the square, sending dry leaves rattling across the stone-flagged yard. The sound made the place seem desolate and empty.
The gateman secured the door behind us and then led us to yet another in one of the walls. This door was also wood, but tightly bound in thick iron bands as wide as a man's hand and studded with large bronze nails. Blue-cloaked guards with long-bladed lances stood on either side of the door, regarding us with bored curiosity. The gateman took hold of an iron ring and pushed one of the great panels open; stepping aside, he indicated that we should proceed.
Having done what he promised, Titus left us to our fate. "I will return to the gate and send the surety when it arrives," he told Justin and departed.
The room we entered was immense. Light came in through four round windholes above, illuminating four large paintings: one of Saint Peter, one of Saint Paul, and the other two of royal persons-judging by their purple robes-one male, the other female: an emperor and empress, I supposed, though I could not say who they might have been. The walls were pale red in colour, and the floors white marble.
Save for low benches which lined the north and south wall, the room was bare of furniture-but not empty, for a goodly number of men in various kinds of dress stood about, some of them talking quietly to one another, others simply looking on. They watched us enter, their glances sharp and unwelcoming. Some had the wan, desperate appearance of men who had spent long years in captivity; others seemed sly and calculating, appraising our potential value. The sight of three barbarians and a travel-worn monk with a guardsman in tow did not excite them, however, and they quickly turned back to their own affairs.
The room, for all its size, was close, the air heavy and stale, and slightly sour. If ambition has a scent, I thought, then I am smelling it now.
In the centre of this anteroom stood a pair of great bronze doors, twice a man's height and covered with images of riders on horseback following the hunt. A huge bronze ring hung in the centre of each door, beneath which stood a man carrying a double-headed axe on a pole. Red horsetails were affixed to the hafts of the axes, and these guards carried small round shields on their shoulders and wore sleeveless red tunics with wide black belts. Their hair was shaved from their heads, save for a single knot which hung down over their temples. The face they presented to the world was fierce indeed, and all who held discourse within that room came under their merciless scrutiny.
Catching my glance, Justin said, "They are the Farghanese-part of the emperor's bodyguard."
He had just finished speaking when we were approached by a man holding a wax tablet and stylus. He glanced disdainfully at me, and at the barbarians, before turning to the chief guard. "Who are these men and what are they doing here?"
"This man is a king of his kind, and he comes seeking audience with the emperor."
"The emperor grants no one audience today," replied the pompous man.
"With all respect, Prefect, there has been trouble at the harbour."
"This trouble," sniffed the prefect, "requires the emperor's attention? I should have thought it more a matter for the emperor's guard."
"They have made hostages of the Quaestor of Hormisdas Harbour and of his men," replied Justin. "Any intervention by the guard will result in the deaths of all concerned. As I am only a scholarae, I have no authority to endanger the quaestor's life. But if you wish to take it upon yourself to settle the matter, Prefect, I bow to your superiority."
The official, who had been about to write something on his tablet, raised his eyes and glanced at Justin; his head whipped around and he regarded the barbarians. Weighing the odds, he made up his mind at once. "Guards!" he cried.
