"Any sorrow at Michael's passing was buried along with his blood-sodden corpse…It was well known he seduced and bedded Basil's wife-and not once only, but many times, and that Basil knew. Indeed, some claim that one of our emperor's sons is not his own."
At the time I had rebuked Justin for repeating wicked and slanderous rumours. Instead, I should have been praising him for telling the truth!
Raising my eyes, I saw Justin watching me solemnly. Oh, yes, he knew.
"Aidan," called the amir, standing with Kazimain a few paces away. "Do not heed him. Wait for the emperor."
I made no reply, but addressed Nikos instead. "You were acting for Leo."
Nikos said nothing, but words were no longer necessary-his sly, superior sneer confirmed everything. I saw his lips curve so smoothly and with such easy indifference, I knew we had risked all and lost.
Fool! I shrieked inwardly, shaken by my own stupidity and ignorance.
Sick dread stole over me, swallowing the rage in gloom. There could be no justice: The King of Kings, Elect of Christ, God's Vice-Regent on Earth was bloody with the self-same crime for which I sought Nikos's condemnation.
In that moment of revelation, I saw the last light of hope snuffed out. Evil reigned. All was futility and bleak, bleak despair. I stood impotent before powers too great for me to know, and too mighty for me to resist.
There was a movement beside me. I felt a hand on my shoulder. "Do not listen to him," Dugal said.
Harald called to me again, but I could hear nothing for the pounding howl of the void screaming in my ears.
Stepping to where Nikos stood, the sneer ripe on his smirking face, I drew the daigear from my belt.
"Cut me loose," commanded the eparch arrogantly. He extended his hands so that I could sever his bonds, and I began sawing at the leather cords.
Harald reached out to stay my hand, and some of the others cried out for me to stop. But I continued slicing at the cords.
"Perhaps you are more intelligent than I thought, priest." Nikos pulled his hands free as the loosened cords fell away. "Or, should I say fallen priest? Look at them," he sneered, indicating the clean-shaven monks. "God's servants, spreading the gospel, imparting doctrine-Ha! Dogs returning to their own vomit. Look at them! A bag of shit knows more of faith."
I said nothing, but stared impassively at him.
"I used to be like you," Nikos said, rubbing his wrists. "I used to be a true believer. And then, like you, I learned the truth." He smiled, triumphant in his victory. "We are the same, you and I."
"Indeed," I agreed, "we are more alike than you know."
Raising the jewelled knife, I plunged it deep into his wicked heart.
Nikos looked down at the knife protruding from his chest, then raised his eyes once more. "Barbarian!" he spat, trembling with rage.
Reaching for the bejewelled handle, he made to pluck the daigear from his body. But I took hold of it first, shoving the blade to the hilt and then twisting it. I felt the sharp metal scrape hard against bone.
Nikos's hands gripped mine in a grotesque mockery of friendship. He tried again to pull the blade from his chest, but I held fast.
I heard the others shouting, their voices a meaningless confusion behind me. I heard my name, but the sound held no meaning. Icy serenity pervaded my soul; I felt tranquil, empty-as if all the anger and hatred I had carried for so long had been extinguished in this single act, leaving nothing behind.
"What have you done?" whispered Nikos, rage melting into bewilderment. He looked at me with a profoundly puzzled expression, his eyes glittering strangely.
"All they that take the sword, shall also perish with the sword," I replied. The words came to my tongue of themselves.
"Fool!" he shouted, tearing my hands away at last. He lurched backwards, clutching at the daigear as if it were a serpent that had sunk its fangs into him.
Perhaps his strength was already failing, or perhaps the wide metal blade had wedged somehow against bone, for he grasped the knife and tried to pluck it out but the daigear did not move. Raising his head, he shrieked aloud and with shaking hands, pulled again. Blood trickled gently from the wound, seeping from around the blade, but the daigear remained stuck fast.
Frantic now, Nikos grasped the weapon with both hands and, with a tremendous, sobbing cry, dragged the daigear from his chest. A swift-spreading dark stain appeared against the black of his siarc. "You will die for this," he said, his voice hoarse in the strained silence of the hall. "You will all die."
A snaking tendril of blood appeared at the side of his mouth as he spoke. Nikos lifted a hand to his lips, touched his fingertips to the blood and then held them before his eyes as the colour drained from his face.
Nikos coughed, spewing blood, raised the daigear and took a step towards me. I stood before him unresisting, willing to receive the blade into my own breast. To die in Byzantium was my fated end, and if this was how death found me, so be it.
