I heard the sound of a horse neighing. I turned from my bewildered inspection to see another brown-skinned man sitting upon a white horse. The man was dressed in robes and turban of sky blue, and held a spear in his hand. Upon seeing me, he raised the lance, levelled it, put spurs to his mount and urged it forward.
The horse leapt to the spur and charged. Before I could move, horse and rider were hurtling down upon me. I saw the horse's nostrils flaring wide. I heard the hollow beat of fast-flying hooves upon the polished marble floor, and the stinging rip of the honed spear-head slicing through the air.
I turned and tried to run, but something held me fast, and I saw that my arms were restrained by two big men with skin the colour of ebony. Gripping me tightly, they threw me to my knees. The rider appeared before me then; his horse had disappeared and he carried not a lance, but a sword which he proceeded to heat in a brazier. He thrust the blade into the flaming coals and drew it back and forth along its length. The metal grew dull and then began to blush, and then to glow. Withdrawing the blade from the fire, he advanced to where I struggled on the floor.
He spoke a word I could not understand and one of the black men snatched a handful of my hair and yanked my head up, while the other squeezed my jaws and forced my mouth open.
It was dark now. All I could see was the glowing steel as the fiery blade swung nearer.
I could feel the heat on my face. I could hear the wispy sigh of the hot metal in the cool air.
They pulled my tongue from my mouth.
The sword rose up sharply, and hovered before falling. In that instant, I saw the face of the warrior illuminated in the dim fireglow. It was the face of the Amir, J'Amal Sadiq.
He regarded me dispassionately before commencing his stroke-no anger, no hatred, merely a grim serenity as the blade fell, severing my tongue. I screamed, and went on screaming. My mouth filled with blood.
I awoke to the echo of a shout still reverberating down the empty corridor outside my room, and the taste of blood in my mouth.
The next days were given over to the preparations for the feast with which the eparch would welcome the amir and his noblemen. There were many long and serious consultations about what the Muhammedans could or could not eat. It seemed that the Arabs would not abide pork in any form, nor shellfish-which the fish market of Trebizond excelled in supplying-nor certain kinds of vegetables. Nor did they drink wine, or ale.
These constraints occasioned endless discussion among those whose duty it was to prepare the meal. I came to know this because the eparch bade me observe in the kitchens and bring word of the arrangements as they progressed. The master of the kitchen was a sour man called Flautus, who begrudged every demand the eparch placed upon him. He went out of his way to construe offence, and grumbled prodigiously at every opportunity. In this way, he instilled in his helpers and all who laboured in the kitchens a loathing of the Arabs well before they arrived.
Why he should complain so, I was not to discover. However, Nikos recognized the quality of the man and wasted no time inflaming Flautus' animosity to the full. I learned the way of it when, having been sent to the kitchens on a minor errand, I saw Nikos talking to the kitchen master. The latter was chopping a bit of meat with a cleaver, dropping the implement with increasingly violent strokes. Upon seeing me, Nikos broke off his talk and approached me.
"Brother Aidan," he said, his tone lightly menacing, "it is good to see you taking an interest in the eparch's affairs. He does not overly burden you, I trust?"
"No, komes," I answered, "I am content."
"King Harald does not begrudge someone else the use of his servant, I suppose?"
"Jarl Harald is pleased to have me help where I can. I feel certain he would complain if it were otherwise."
"Good." He looked at me a moment, as if trying to read my thoughts. "You know, Aidan," he continued, speaking as if he were confiding an intimacy, "I have not forgotten your aid in helping bring the treacherous quaestor to justice. I have not forgotten that day."
"Nor have I."
"And I still cannot help wondering what moved you to do such a thing. It was no affair of yours certainly."
"But it was, Komes Nikos," I replied. "It was my lord Harald's affair and I serve my lord."
"And in serving your lord you gained the favour of my lord, and freedom for yourself, too. Yes?"
"But I am not free," I pointed out. "I am still a slave."
"Yet you entertain hopes of freedom, I presume."
"I do, komes," I said, and added: "It is a hope most slaves cherish."
"You are to be commended for keeping this hope alive, friend Aidan." Without raising his voice, or altering his speech in any way, his bearing had become threatening. "If I may be so bold as to suggest, I can be of help to you, priest. I enjoy a certain influence where the emperor is concerned."
"I will bear it in mind."
"I am certain that you will."
