"The former emperor was a very suspicious and fearful man," Leo allowed, and I noted that he never referred to Basil as his father. "Which of his many fears did he confide to you?"
"That men were plotting to kill him," I answered. It was not true, of course; but in light of Basil's murder, he might have been.
"And were they?" inquired Leo. The question was asked casually, but the keenness with which he regarded me gave me to know that I had pricked his interest.
"Yes, lord," I answered bluntly. "The conspiracy was discovered by Exarch Honorius, for which knowledge the governor was also murdered. I carry his sealed letter," I touched the parchment beneath my siarc, "which testifies to this fact, and was meant to serve as a warning to the emperor. Unfortunately, we arrived in Constantinople too late to prevent the consummation of the hateful act."
"The emperor died in an accident," Leo replied coolly. "I am told he rode too far ahead of the hunt-always an ill-advised thing to do in any circumstance-and it ended in the disaster for which the empire is still in mourning."
I had hoped he would be curious to know what the letter contained, but Emperor Leo was too canny to be caught like that. Still, I had but one more chance and nothing to lose, so I took it: "Eparch Nikos left no doubt about the veracity of these reports involving wild stags and runaway horses."
Leo folded one hand into the other and looked at me over the fist. "The eparch," he said slowly, "may have wished to create suspicions of his own, for purposes of his own. While his crimes, as you suggest, may once have demanded answers, he is now beyond questioning. We must be satisfied with the end which Heaven, in its infinite wisdom, has ordained."
That was all he said, and I understood that it was over at last. Not only had I failed to gain even so much as a hint of wrongdoing, much less a confession, Leo would simply lay all blame for every wrong on Nikos' head. I had provided him with the perfect scapegoat; dead, Nikos provided exoneration and absolution. Sick at heart, I stood looking on in despair.
Leo shifted, as if he would leave, but something held him. Regarding me with a sour expression, he said, "As you have not answered, we will ask you once again: what is it that you want?"
"Sovereign lord," I replied, almost desperately, "I came to Byzantium a monk with nothing save the faith that sustained me. Now even that poor possession has been taken from me. I have seen the innocent slaughtered in their hundreds-men, women, and children whose only wrong-doing was to cross Nikos's path. I saw the blessed Bishop Cadoc torn apart by horses and his body hacked to pieces. I myself have endured slavery and torture, but that was nothing beside the dissolution of my faith."
I paused, swallowing hard, knowing that the next words I spoke might well bring about the fulfillment of my darkling dream, my death in Byzantium. I stumbled on, heedless of consequences. "I came here today seeking justice for those who died; yes, and revenge for myself, I will not deny it. When I learned there could be no justice, I undertook revenge lest that, too, escape me."
Leo accepted this without remark, and without the slightest indication of concern or anger or even surprise. So, I pushed ahead.
"Before he died, Nikos gave me to know that he killed Basil, and that the one who now wears the crown endorsed his crimes and conspired with him. You have asked what I want, and it is this: was he speaking the truth?"
Leo sat for a long moment, gazing at me with his dark, deep-set eyes as if at a problem that resisted every solution. Drawing himself up, he spoke at last. "We see that you have endeavoured good on behalf of the imperial throne," he told me, "and this at fearful expense to yourself. Would that you had asked us to restore your silver; we would have given it you a thousand times over. But you desire a thing even the basileus cannot bestow: the renewing of your faith." An expression of regret softened his features. "I am sorry," he said, one man speaking to another.
He rose from his chair, slowly unfolding his long form to stand tall and slender before me-so unlike Basil in every way. "Truly, I am sorry," he said again.
I made no move, nor spoke any word. There was nothing more to say. Shorn of my last hope, bereft of all belief, I simply gazed back at him, a numb, hollow creature of wood and bone.
Tall and regal, Leo moved away, but then turned after only a few paces. "If Eparch Nikos overreached himself in pursuit of his ambitions," he said, voicing what had already become the official explanation for all wrongdoing, "we see that his sins have borne their bitter fruit. It may not be to your liking, but we hold that justice is satisfied."
He hesitated, his lips pressed into a hard line as he regarded me almost angrily. I have seen such expressions before, usually when a person is warring within himself. With Leo, the battle was swiftly over.
