Robert Lyndon: Imperial Fire

‘Yes, Lord.’

‘Do you know where we obtained the secret of its manunfacture?’

‘A place called Seres, somewhere in the East, beyond the River Oxus.’

The Logothete turned in some surprise. ‘You’re better informed than I imagined.’

‘Hero of Syracuse told me, passing on information he obtained from Cosmas. Both men thirsted for knowledge about far-off places.’

‘I’d like to meet this Hero of Syracuse.’

Vallon held his tongue, and after a few moments of interrogative silence, the Logothete continued. ‘Seres and China are one and the same. Five hundred years ago, an official who held a post corresponding to mine sent a pair of Nestorian monks into a silk-making town east of Samarkand. They smuggled silk worms back in hollowed-out staffs.’ The Logothete reached under his furs and stroked his gown. ‘Silk has been the mainstay of our wealth ever since, but now the Arabs and others have learned how to produce it and broken our monopoly. It’s time to discover fresh secrets in China — new metals, ingenious war engines.’ The Logothete eyed Vallon. ‘No doubt you’ve seen Greek Fire used in battle.’

‘Yes. I’ve never employed it myself. I don’t know its formula.’

‘I’m glad to hear it. Greek Fire is the secret weapon that forms the bulwark between Byzantium and its enemies.’

‘Long may it preserve us,’ Vallon said, in the tone of someone reciting a response in a litany.

The Logothete stepped close and spoke in a scented whisper. ‘Suppose I told you that China possesses a weapon more powerful than Greek Fire.’

Vallon resisted the instinct to step back. ‘That would be a prize worth having.’

The Logothete withdrew. ‘Three years ago slavers in Turkestan captured a Chinese merchant who eventually ended up in Constantinople. The man had been a soldier and engineer. Under questioning, he told his interrogators that Chinese alchemists had formulated a compound called Fire Drug, a substance that ignites with a spark and explodes when packed into a container. Now then, Vallon. You’ve seen a sealed bottle of oil burst in a fire. Poof! Alarming and possibly injurious to those standing close by.’ The Logothete’s face ducked back into the firelight. ‘In the same circumstances, a bottle of Fire Drug would blow everybody within twenty yards to shreds.’

Vallon massaged his throat. The Logothete swung away and tramped along the balcony, one hand slapping the rail.

‘Packed into cylinders, Fire Drug propels arrows twice as far as any bow can shoot. Encased in iron spheres, it explodes with a force that can shatter a ship into splinters.’

‘An army equipped with such a weapon wouldn’t need knights, only engineers.’

‘Precisely,’ the Logothete said. ‘But the strange thing is that the Chinese don’t exploit this terrible incendiary for military purposes. Apparently, they use it to frighten away evil spirits.’ The Logothete paused. ‘We want you to obtain the formula for this devastating compound.’

‘Lord, Byzantium has possessed Greek Fire for centuries, and during all that time we’ve kept the secret of its manufacture to ourselves. The engineers of Cathay will guard their formula just as closely.’

‘I’m sure you’ll find a way of discovering the secret.’

‘Steal it, you mean. If the theft is discovered, it would wipe out any diplomatic gains at a stroke.’

‘That won’t do at all. You must use guile and ingenuity.’

Vallon recognised finality in the Logothete’s tone. He drew a shuddering breath. ‘When does the expedition set out?’

‘Next spring, as early as wind and weather permit.’

‘Lord, if the embassy is so important, I can’t understand why you would choose a foreign count to lead it.’

‘Not lead. Escort. Professional diplomats will head the mission. You’ll meet them in due course. But you’re right. Your rank must befit the importance of your commission.’ The Logothete bowed. ‘Congratulations, Strategos .’

General. Never had promotion been so unwished for. It was all Vallon could do to bow and acknowledge the honour.

‘I should stress that the expedition is secret,’ the minister said. ‘Your promotion will be announced as recognition for your valour at Dyrrachium.’

‘I understand,’ said Vallon.

The Logothete resumed his seat. The braziers hummed in a swirl of air. A harsh female voice spoke. ‘We’ve been told that your wife is a beauty.’

Vallon’s night vision had sharpened. A veil covered the speaker’s face, but he was sure that the woman was the Empress-Mother, Anna Dalassena, the most duplicitous schemer in Constantinople and the woman who’d plotted her son’s seizure of the throne. Which meant that the third figure hunched over in his furs must be Alexius.

‘My wife is from Iceland,’ Vallon said. ‘The island breeds a fair race.’

‘You dwell in Galata, I understand. I’ve never been there. Of course, when you return, you must find a home closer to the palace.’ Her hand described a circle. ‘And perhaps a small estate on the Marmara coast.’

Vallon managed a bow before turning to the Logothete. ‘How many men will I command?’

‘One hundred cavalry, chosen from your own squadron, each man selected for his courage, loyalty and versatility in arms. Our ambassador will be accompanied by his personal guards and staff. With grooms, muleteers, surgeons, cooks — about two hundred men in all.’

‘Two hundred is too few to fight a battle, too many to keep supplied on a year’s land march.’

‘I don’t anticipate any serious fighting. I’ve already taken steps to arrange a safe conduct through the Seljuk territories in Armenia and Persia. Once you’ve passed through those lands, you won’t face anybody more fearsome than nomad bandits.’

How do you know? Vallon wanted to shout. That’s how you dismissed the Seljuk Turks who defeated the cream of the Byzantine military and captured the emperor only ten years ago. He breathed deep. ‘My men are mercenaries. I can’t compel them to follow me to China.’

‘You won’t tell them until you’ve taken ship. Until then, you must convince them that they’re bound for another spell on the Bulgarian border. Only when you’re three days’ sail from Constantinople will you reveal your orders. To soften any distress this might cause, you’re authorised to tell your men that they’ll be drawing double wages for the duration of the expedition.’

None of them would see a penny, Vallon thought. All of them would perish in a nameless desert with not even a coin to close their eyes against the sun.

‘I’m sorry, Lord. I won’t lie to my men. They’re a rag-tag bunch drawn from many lands and my greatest pride is that they trust me. I won’t betray that trust. I will take only volunteers who know what hazards they face.’

Outside the walls of the Hippodrome, dogs barked and a bell tolled from a distant church. Gases hissed in the braziers. The third figure — it had to be Alexius — reached out and took the Logothete’s sleeve. The minister leaned and then straightened.

‘Very well. You’ll tell your squadron at the last moment, without informing them of their precise destination. That’s a simple security precaution. You’ll be carrying a great deal of treasure.’

Vallon drew himself up. ‘I’m honoured that you regard me as equal to the task. I humbly submit that you overestimate my talents and I beg to be relieved of it.’

‘Your request is denied, General. You have three months to prepare. During that time, you will meet with the diplomats and learn everything you can about China.’

‘And if I refuse?’

‘That would be treason, and the punishment for treason is to be blinded and whipped through the city sitting backwards on an ass.’ The Logothete gave a signal and Chlorus emerged from the tunnel. ‘His Imperial Majesty has promoted Vallon the Frank to a general’s command, and an officer of such high rank shouldn’t be exposed to another choppy ride on the Bosporus. You’ll find a carriage waiting at the Chalke Gate.’