Nicephorus and the amir sat together on cushions, the eparch having abandoned his customary couch in deference to his guest. Established on a low dais, the two overlooked the feast, surrounded by those of highest rank and privilege. Nikos was second to the eparch, followed by the magister and the spatharius, who both wore the expressions of men being forced to attend a grave-digging. Midway through the feast, Nikos rose and went out, returning a short while later followed by four men bearing a huge golden ewer on a carved wooden pallet. People exclaimed aloud at the appearance of this impossibly costly object; the hall rang with the acclaim.
Nikos led the servants through the centre of the hall and came to the foot of the dais. "Emperor Basil sends his regards to the amir," he said, speaking in a voice loud enough to be heard throughout the hall. "He has asked me to deliver to you this ewer on his behalf, to be given to the caliph as a token of the high esteem with which he values his future friend."
This pronouncement sent a flurry of quick-murmured whispers through the hall. Some men actually gaped in amazement at the generosity-not to say profligacy-of the gift; the cost was staggering.
At Nikos's command, the servants poured the specially prepared drink from the great ewer into silver pitchers with which other servants began filling the cups of the celebrants. When the last of the elixir had been poured, Nikos raised his cup and said, "I drink to the health and long life of the emperor and the caliph, and to friendship and peace between our peoples!"
Everyone lifted high their cups and drank. And it was in that moment, when all were occupied, that there came a shout from the entry vestibule and into the hall rushed eight or ten men. Dressed in long black Sarazen robes, the lower portions of their faces covered; they dashed along the centre aisle, screaming and shouting, swords and spears flashing in the candlelight. Without the slightest hair of hesitation they seized the golden ewer and, before every eye, bore it off. Men struggled to their feet and attempted to bar the way, but the thieves had already made good their escape. Before anyone could act, the robbers and their prize had disappeared.
The eparch was stunned. The magister and spatharius stared in frozen amazement. The amir's colour deepened with shame and rage that men of his own race should perpetrate this brazen crime in the very house in which he was a guest. He stood at once and ordered his bodyguard to give chase, kill the thieves, and bring back the golden ewer. The Sarazens rose as one and took up their weapons.
But Nikos prevented them. He held up his hands and called out. "Please! Please! Be seated. I beg you please be seated. They are gone; no one has been hurt. There is no cause for alarm. The true crime would be if we allowed these robbers to interrupt our enjoyment of this feast. Therefore, I beg you: take no thought for what has happened here tonight. It is nothing-a trifle only. Do not be dismayed."
He turned to the servants who still stood with the silver pitchers in their hands. He summoned the nearest to him and spoke a word in his ear. The servant signalled the others and they all went out.
"My friends," said Nikos, "return to your pleasure. Let it be as if nothing has happened." He flung out his arm and pointed to the hall entrance where the servants had once more appeared, bearing an even larger ewer than the one that had been stolen. "You see!" he cried. "No ill has befallen this night. The largesse of the emperor is all sufficient. Enjoy! Enjoy!"
If the sight of the first ewer amazed and delighted the banqueters, the sight of the second silenced them with astonishment. Even so, I could read their thoughts as if they were written on their faces: How was it possible that two such objects should exist? And could they both be given to the caliph? The magnitude of expense! Only a god can afford to bestow such gifts!
More sweet drink was poured from the second ewer and carried through the hall to refill the cups. Nikos renewed his pledges of good will, and slowly the banquet resumed, but with much more interest than before.
The next day, the whole city bubbled with the excitement of the bold robbery, and how the quick-thinking komes had saved the honour of the amir with his extraordinary gesture. An act of true nobility, they called it; largesse on an unprecedented scale. The magister and spatharius were busy morning to night spreading word of the robbery, and a reward was quickly offered for the capture of the thieves and the return of the ewer.
Only the eparch appeared ill-pleased with the komes's behaviour in the affair. I found him just after midday in the room he used for holding council. "Eparch," I said, moving to where he sat, fists balled on the arms of his chair, "you asked me to tell you when Nikos returned. He is here now."
"Tell him I wish to see him at once."
