Tom Harper - The mosaic of shadows

‘Get up, Demetrios Askiates.’ To my untold relief, there was amusement in his voice. ‘If I had wanted your oblations, I would have met you wrapped in my jewelled lorum, and with pearls dripping from my crown, so that you could not have doubted my rank. I wished to meet you as a man, not a slave.’

‘You expected me, Lord?’ I had never had to address such an exalted man before, and I struggled for the correct forms. I suspected his deliberate informality had its bounds.

‘For the past three days. I had word from the palace that you were engaged to discover the brigands who tried to murder my dear brother, the noble Emperor. I greatly hoped to speak with you.’

‘Why, Lord?’

‘The bureaucrats and slaves at the palace would withhold things from me, Demetrios. That is how they keep their fingers mired in power. But some facts are too important to serve merely to buttress the pride of eunuchs — facts regarding the safety of my brother, for example. We Komneni trust in our own, for who else will protect with the ferocity of kin?’

Clearly his trust was not shared with Krysaphios, for there were six of the Emperor’s siblings, and a scattering of his cousins and children on the eunuch’s list.

‘Kinsmen can be jealous,’ I observed. Whatever the factions at the palace, I was here to test Isaak for treachery, not to confide in him. ‘Absalom led an army against his father, King David. Simeon slaughtered Shechem and all his kin. And as Cain, not every man is his brother’s keeper.’

Isaak spun about. ‘And do not forget that Shadrach was cast into the furnace because he refused to obey his lord. I summoned you because I am my brother’s keeper, Demetrios Askiates; I share all the burden of government with him, and I must know if he is in danger.’

‘A wicked man might think you had cause to hate him.’ I was walking the precipice here. ‘That you nursed an injury that your father chose him , rather than you, his eldest son, to take the throne. Such a man might — mistakenly — approach you, hoping to enrol you in his conspiracy, to play on the bitterness he presumed.’

Isaak spread his hands wide, unconsciously emulating the towering figure of Abraham in the mosaic behind him. ‘Bitterness? That was fifteen years ago, and it was agreed by all the leading families that my brother Alexios was the better candidate. I would need a deep heart indeed if I was now still able to squeeze bile from it.’

‘And no-one has tried to whisper otherwise in your ear? None have hinted that if you coveted the throne, they might help you get it?’

‘None until you.’ Isaak pursed his lips. ‘No, Demetrios, there are always flatterers trying to persuade me that my station is inadequate to my merits, but they say so only because they think it is what I would hear, because they think that if I did strike against my brother they too would gain by hanging on to the hem of my robe. I ignore them, and try to keep them from crossing my threshold.’

If that was so, then he had made a strange choice for his mosaic. But I had pressed the Sebastokrator too far already to impugn him further.

‘You do not think any of these sycophants might intend genuine mischief?’

‘No. None of them would chance raising his own hand against the Emperor simply for the right to sew a few more rubies onto his robe, or to win another farm in Scythia. Who would risk the ultimate crime, the ultimate punishment, unless he stood also to win the ultimate reward?’ He must have seen the suspicion flare in my eyes. ‘Yes, you say: I could win the ultimate reward. But I do not want it.’

‘Do you know any who do?’

‘The Emperor’s daughter Anna, my niece, is recently come of age, and is betrothed to the heir of the man whom my brother deposed. He might feel he has a double claim to the throne, through both father and father-in-law, and he is of an age when men are often the victims of overwhelming impulse. My brother-in-law Melissenos once coveted the purple and had himself proclaimed Emperor, before recognising that he could not contend with me and my brother.’ Isaak tipped back his head and laughed at the incomprehension on my face. ‘Too many names for you, Demetrios, all twined and tangled together? There is not one of the great families which has not touched the purple at some time or another, and we marry each other with indecent frequency. Even if you confined your search only to those with a claim to the throne, you could fill the Hall of Nineteen Tables three-fold with them. Now tell me what you have found, so that I can inform my brother. The bastard eunuch tells him nothing.’

‘The bastard eunuch pays my wages,’ I retorted. Then, foolishly provocative: ‘If the Emperor wishes to hear what I have found, and cannot get it from his chamberlain, then he can summon me himself.’

I looked hesitantly at the Sebastokrator, wondering whether I had given too great an offence. His face was cold, certainly, but not malicious.

‘You clearly understand little of the ways of the palace,’ he said curtly. ‘Do not think that merely because my brother is the Emperor, he can do as he pleases. He is hemmed in by a thousand petty restraints: traditions, protocols, conventions, precedents and promises. He is no more a free man than the slave who rows his barge. His power is brittle, and faces threats far more subtle than an assassin’s arrow. He cannot be seen to antagonise his counsellors by usurping their authority.’

‘No more can I.’ The Lord God knew I had no allegiance to Krysaphios, but his world was murky enough; I dared not stray into realms of betrayal.

The Sebastokrator Isaak pursed his lips. ‘You disappoint me, Demetrios Askiates. I had heard that you, uncommonly among men, were prepared to drive your own path. To know when the call of a higher authority befitted a judicious confidence. Clearly I was wrong.’

Without awaiting an answer he turned and marched out, ignoring the hurried bow I thought it wise to offer. As I brushed the dust off my knees, I wondered whether I had made my first enemy within the palace. It was a discomfiting thought.

The following day I again wanted to take the boy Thomas to the forest, but again Anna refused. Likewise the next day, and if there was one consolation to the delay, it was that I made steady progress through Krysaphios’ list of nobles. As I had expected, I learned nothing from them, but at least my obedience muted the eunuch’s criticisms when I reported to him. I contemplated travelling to the forest without the boy, trying to find the place where the monk had trained him by description alone, but the answers the boy gave my questions were so vague I doubt I could have found my own feet by them. And on the third day Anna sent word — grudging, even in the mouth of the novice who bore her message — that the boy was sufficiently healed to travel.

We left before dawn. Sigurd and his company of Varangians met me outside my house, their horses’ flanks steaming in the cold air. Father Gregorias accompanied them, for it appeared the little priest spoke Frankish as well as Bulgar, and had been co-opted into accompanying us as our translator. On the empty street corners the Watch still prowled, enforcing the curfew, but they stepped back respectfully as our cavalcade cantered past, offering hurried salutes to these barbarians riding out of the dawn mist.

We stopped at the monastery. A dozen Varangians fanned out in a half-circle around its gate as Sigurd and I dismounted to fetch the boy. A handful of monks straggled across the courtyard, perhaps collecting the night soil from the cells, but otherwise no-one moved. I was tense, scanning every rooftop and architrave for unexpected movement, for I had grave misgivings about taking the boy out of his seclusion and into the public thoroughfares beyond. It would be many months before I forgot the sight of the gash across the Bulgar’s throat, and whether it had been the work of the elusive monk, his agents, or some higher power, I did not think they would rest while their failed assassin lived in captivity. But I had spent three days fruitlessly antagonising merchants and nobles: if the boy could lead me to the house where he and the monk had trained, then perhaps there I would find something to guide my search. And I did not want to cause Anna undue risk.