Robert Lyndon - Imperial Fire

The Logothete clapped his hands. Double doors opened. ‘If you’d care to follow me.’

Trailing behind the duke’s party, Hero entered an antechamber artfully lit to display a hoard of treasures heaped on a table.

‘These are the gifts for the Song emperor.’

The company circled the table, murmuring their appreciation. Hero didn’t know where to rest his eyes. Two gold goblets set with amethysts and cabochons. A silk gown dyed purple with murex and embroidered with precious metals and pearls. A water clock mounted in a gilt bronze case. Icons depicting Jesus Christ and the Virgin Mary painted in encaustic by a master. A silver dish bearing a niello monogram of the emperor. Two lustreware chargers, one painted with a dromon, the other with a hunting scene…

The Logothete leaned towards Hero. ‘Fit for an emperor, would you say?’

Hero passed a hand over his eyes. ‘They’re wonderful objects.’

The Logothete craned closer. ‘But? Don’t be scared to speak out.’

One by one all turned until Hero was the focus of attention. ‘My worry is that the emperor of China already possesses treasures beyond price.’ Hero stroked the gown, a fabric so gorgeous that a wealthy man might labour all his life and never earn enough to possess it. ‘Silk? It was China that originated the craft of silk-making.’ He pointed at the icons. ‘The Chinese worship their own gods and ancestors.’ He picked up one of the goblets. ‘Gold and jewels? Yes, no ruler can have enough of them. The problem is, are you prepared to lavish sufficient to satisfy the Cathay emperor’s appetite? The clock is very fine, but if Master Cosmas is to be believed, the Chinese make their own timepieces, including water-powered chronometers that stand as tall as a house and can track the planets as well as telling the hours. Again, Cosmas told me that the Cathay nobility dine off ceramics fairer and finer than anything crafted by our potters.’ Hero hesitated. ‘I’m sorry if I belittle your treasures.’

The Logothete darted a tight smile at his guests. ‘No, this is why I brought you here.’ He expanded his chest. ‘So, what does Byzantium have to offer an emperor who apparently possesses everything?’

‘Envy?’ said Vallon.

The Logothete managed a pained smile. ‘I didn’t know you had a sense of humour, General.’

Hero smothered a laugh. It wasn’t often Vallon made a joke. He composed his features. ‘It occurs to me that the Cathay emperor might appreciate gifts of a more practical nature.’

The Logothete’s eyes widened. ‘Name them.’

‘Manuals on engineering and medicine, warfare and governance. ‘Also…’ Hero slid a glance at Vallon. ‘The general told me that you hoped to obtain from China the formula for an awesome incendiary.’

‘Fire Drug. Do you know about it?’

‘No, but if it’s so important, perhaps you should consider obtaining it in exchange for Greek Fire.’

The Logothete shook his head, shutting his eyes for emphasis. ‘Out of the question.’

‘But you expect the Chinese to share their own military technology.’

‘If they won’t divulge it willingly, you might have to resort to other methods.’ The Logothete made a dismissive wave. ‘I’ve already been through this with Vallon.’

‘And I share the general’s doubts,’ Skleros said. ‘Any diplomatic benefits we might gain would be wiped out if the Chinese discover that one of our aims is to steal a state secret. Even our lives might be put in jeopardy.’

The Logothete flung up a hand as if warding off something obscene. ‘I didn’t say “steal”. I simply urge you to use whatever stratagems you can devise to obtain the formula. No doubt it will involve the exchange of money.’ The Logothete’s dark eyes roamed across his audience. ‘I have only this to add. Return with the secret of Fire Drug and the emperor will reward you with twenty thousand solidi, to be shared between the duke and the general in the portion of two parts to one.

The guests glanced at each other. Hero boggled. Twenty thousand solidi amounted to more than two hundred pounds of gold. He turned his gaze towards Vallon and found the general’s expression as hard as stone.

‘Will we be armed with Greek Fire?’ Vallon asked.

‘Only for the voyage across the Black Sea. I don’t suppose you want to lug barrels and cauldrons and siphons all the way to China.’

Vallon turned to Skleros. ‘I understand that your retinue will number about forty.’

Skleros flicked a look at him before addressing the Logothete. ‘Since you’ve encouraged us to speak our minds, allow me to express mine. I mean no disrespect to General Vallon, but our embassy would carry greater prestige if the commander and his troops were Greek. After all, you as minister for foreign affairs would be less inclined to take an embassy seriously if the majority of the party were foreign mercenaries.’

The Logothete’s mouth opened in anticipation. ‘Do you have an alternative?’

A bubble formed on Skleros’s lower lip. ‘Yes, I do. Justin Bardanes is a noble lord with a distinguished military record and a subtle grasp of diplomacy.’

The Logothete seemed to sadden. ‘Bardanes plotted against the emperor and has shown no distinction in the field except to demonstrate how smartly he can retreat. I can’t discern any recommending feature except for the fact that he’s your cousin.’

Skleros reddened. Giving him no time to protest, the Logothete stabbed a finger in Vallon’s direction.

‘Whereas the general’s credentials are beyond question. You all know about his extraordinary travels and his exemplary valour at Dyrrachium. If you have reservations about his appointment, voice them to His Imperial Majesty. I’ll arrange an audience if you wish.’ The Logothete’s voice dropped. ‘But know this: it was our emperor, the grand and hallowed Alexius Comnenus, who personally selected Vallon for the mission.’

Skleros slunk back. ‘I’ll say no more.’

The Logothete bestowed a wide smile on the company. ‘Then let’s go in to lunch.’

The Logothete seated Hero on his left and quizzed him on various matters pertaining to his journey to the far north, the minister displaying an impressive grasp of geography and foreign affairs. The conversation turned to medicine and science, and here again the minister demonstrated an admirable breadth of knowledge. After listening to Hero’s account of his work as a physician, he made a gesture that took in part of the palace behind him.

‘The Magnaura has a fine library containing many rare medical texts. Perhaps you’d like to explore its treasures.’

‘It would be a dream come true.’

‘Is there a particular author whose works you’d like to study?’

‘One of the physicians I most admire is Hunayn ibn Ishaq. He wrote a text called Ten Treatises of the Eye that I’ve been trying to track down for years.’

The Logothete’s eyebrow formed a sinuous line. ‘The name is familiar. Excuse me while I enquire.’ The merest tilt of the head brought a clerk hurrying to his side. Their quiet exchanges ended in a brilliant smile aimed at Hero.

‘We have two copies — both in the original Arabic, one of them penned by Hunayn himself. You’re welcome to copy it, or if you prefer, I can assign the task to one of my antiquarii .’

‘I would prefer to translate it myself. Even the most sensitive of scribes tends to make errors of interpretation when dealing with specialist subjects.’

‘I understand.’

Conversation turned to other matters. Hero found the Logothete an engaging and stimulating host and was rather disappointed when the minister rose to signal that the occasion was over. The minister escorted him to the door.