The eparch's mouth turned down at the corners. "I am disappointed, komes. I expected something much more creative and intelligent from you." Flicking his hand dismissively, Nicephorus said, "It is out of the question. You are too late with your anxious worries. We are leaving as soon as the ships are provisioned and ready. The merchants are anxious to return to Constantinople, and so am I. The emperor is waiting."
"It need be nothing very elaborate, or very far," continued Nikos as if he had not heard the eparch's decision. "What better way to announce the success of the treaty than to declare before the emperor and the assembled merchant princes that you personally have inaugurated the new peace with a journey over one of our more troubled trade routes, and found it to be completely satisfactory?"
The eparch regarded Nikos closely; I had seen the same look on the face of a man trying to determine the age of the horse he was buying. "You have a destination in mind, I presume?"
"The short journey to Theodosiopolis should suffice. It would take only a few days, and amply serve the purpose."
The eparch considered this, tapping his fingertips together. Finally, he said, "It is a meritable idea, Komes Nikos. I think you should do it-"
"Good," replied Nikos swiftly. "I will make the arrangements at once."
"On your own," continued the eparch, more forcefully. "That would allow me to stay here and prepare for next year's council. The governor is expected in a few days, and I could greet him and relate the details of our agreement. It would be time well spent. You go."
"But I am not the eparch," Nikos pointed out. "I could not-"
"It makes no difference. The journey is largely symbolic anyway. It will carry the same significance whether I go along or not."
Komes Nikos seemed about to make an objection; I could almost see the protest forming on his lips. But he checked himself and said, "Very well. If that is your decision."
"That is my decision," replied Nicephorus precisely.
"I shall leave in the morning. Good day to you, eparch." He turned suddenly and, for the first time, saw me standing just inside the doorway. His face stiffened; he crossed the room in quick, long strides. "Beware, meddling priest," he whispered under his breath as he passed. "Beware."
"Ah, Aidan, you are here," called the eparch, beckoning me to enter. "The day has grown cold. I am chilled to the bone."
Unfolding the cloak, I placed it around his shoulders. "I could light the brazier," I offered.
"Too much bother," he said. "I will not stay out here much longer. The light is failing." He looked at the doorway, as if expecting to see Nikos standing there. "Did you hear what he said?"
"Yes, eparch."
"What do you think?"
"I know nothing of these matters," I answered.
"But you know Nikos," the eparch pointed out. "You know him and, what is more, you distrust him-as do I." Nicephorus paused, ordering his thoughts. "I distrust him because I do not know where his true loyalties lie. He is ambitious, I believe. Many young men are ambitious, and I have seen more than my share; but in our friend Nikos, ambition serves an end I cannot see." Turning stiffly to me, he asked, "Was he lying, do you think?"
"You would know better than I, eparch," I answered. Suspicion, Justin had said, is the knife in your sleeve and the shield at your back.
"I think we must assume that he was. But if so, I cannot see any possible gain in it-for him or anyone else. Can you?"
"No, eparch." Even as I answered I felt the creeping damp of the prison cell I had seen in my dream. I shivered and looked around me; the courtyard had grown dim as daylight waned. "It is getting dark. Shall I not light the brazier for you?"
"No, no, that will not be necessary," said the eparch, rising. "I am going to my room." He folded the parchment and tucked it under his arm as he started for the door. "Walk with me, Aidan."
I fell into step beside him and we entered the corridor. "I do not know how you came to be slave to the Danes," he said, "but I want you to know that I intend speaking to the emperor on our return."
"Eparch?"
"About your freedom, son," he said in a fatherly tone. "It would be a sad waste of your talents to spend the rest of your life translating Greek for barbarians. We must do something about that, I think."
"Thank you, eparch," I replied, for I could think of nothing else to say.
"We had best keep this between ourselves for now," he cautioned. "It would be less awkward when the time comes."
"Of course."
"Tell Flautus that I will take my meal in my room," the eparch instructed. "I have had enough of celebration feasts for awhile." We had reached his door; he opened it and dismissed me. "Oh, Aidan," he said calling me back, "would you ask Jarl Harald to place a guard at my door tonight? I think I would sleep a little better for it."
"Yes, eparch; at once."
