Richard Blake - The Curse of Babylon

It was Shahin speaking. ‘My dear Simon,’ he said in the low voice he only used when fighting back the terrors, ‘if you’re telling me the blond boy has the cup, and actually touched it, can you explain how he’s alive and in apparent good health?’

A few feet beyond where he stood, there was a scrape of fingernails against a bearded face. This was followed by a sharp and anxious intake of breath. ‘I’ve told you, My Lord,’ the man called Simon replied in a native though faintly southern Greek, ‘he was only the third to touch it. There may have been some loss of potency.’ He scratched his beard again. ‘But never mind this. I nearly had it! And I’d have it now if you hadn’t interfered this afternoon.’ He stopped and gave way to a nervous cough. I could tell nothing from his outline against the starry sky. But there was something about his voice that sounded familiar. Hadn’t he brought me that purported letter from Nicetas? With Shahin, his accent was broader and his voice more wheedling. But it was him. He must also have brought the fake summons from Lucas — he’d slipped it into the mess of other documents at my feet and waited for me to notice it. Worth asking, though, was why, if he was a principal in whatever matter this was, he’d acted in person.

Simon spoke again. ‘The plan was to get the barbarian somewhere quiet and beat sense into him. If that didn’t work, his mutilated body, dumped in a public square, would have caused enough chaos in his household for my man to slip in and recover the cup. I ask again, My Lord Shahin — why did you interfere? ’

Shahin’s answer was one of the imitations of farting that Chosroes used to enjoy, and that might have saved him from the Shaft of Oblivion. ‘You should remember your place, Simon,’ he grated. ‘The rules of this game are that I give the orders. You obey them. It’s enough that you missed the cup when you assured me you virtually had it. You’re now telling me that Alaric beat you to it. Well, you can put yourself back into that boat and go looking for it. If you don’t have it by the time you see Shahrbaraz again, don’t expect me to put in a word for you.’

Simon coughed again and twisted round in the gloom. I thought for a moment he’d seen me. But he was looking east and I was in darkness. ‘I’ve already set another plan in motion,’ he said. ‘I’ll have the cup before midnight. I do urge, however, that we go downstairs and cut Alaric’s throat. My people are already getting nervous. Once they know he’s involved, I can’t speak for their loyalty.’ His voice took on a pleading tone. ‘Kill him. Give me the body. Kill the girl too. She’s a nuisance for other reasons.’

There was a brief silence. Then Shahin yawned. ‘You don’t lay hands on the blond boy without my written agreement,’ he snapped. ‘The girl is useful to control him. Now, go and find me that cup. No cup, let me remind you, no deal.’

In the final glimmerings of light from the sky, I saw Shahin step across to the rail and lean so he could stare down into the boat that had brought Simon out from the City. Simon followed. They began discussing the preparedness of the ‘chosen ones’. I could have stayed where I was, waiting to learn who these ‘chosen ones’ were and what they were expected to do. But I’d heard enough. Because we were passing into a darkness barely moderated by the stars and a thin sliver of moon, I only had to keep the pair of us from making a noise. I got myself in front of Antonia and hurried to the other side of the cabin wall. Bad luck that I bumped straight into one of the Syrians. Without any noise I’d troubled to hear, he’d got himself in my way. The first I knew of him was when his bearded chin made contact with my chest.

The bad luck, I should explain, was his. I still had a knife in my hand. Even as he drew breath to call for help, I took his beard in my left hand and pulled sharply up. I rammed the knife into the right side of his neck and pulled outward until I’d severed his windpipe. I silenced his last bubbling breath by clutching him to my chest. I held him tight as his blood sprayed warm over me, then laid him quietly down. I stood upright and wiped blood from my eyes. I looked down. So far as I could tell, the front of my body was covered in blood. It was a sudden and welcome barrier against the night chill. It made me more invisible in the dark.

Antonia was already round the corner on the far side from where Shahin was giving instructions to his Greek traitor. If the tiny moon was behind us on the right, this meant that we’d be looking west, which was the direction in which it seemed best to try swimming. I rounded the corner and, all else forgotten, I stood beside her and looked in astonished silence.

Though in darkness, we were already passing along the narrow strait that would take the ship into the Black Sea. Not three hundred yards away, Constantinople was a blaze of artificial light. I could clearly see the shape of the Great Church, and of the other high buildings. I could follow the whole line of the sea wall from the beacons that burned every twenty yards along it. It was the most astonishingly beautiful sight. I don’t think any other city in the world could match what I saw. If a man saw nothing else, this alone was enough to tell him everything he needed to know about the size and glory of Constantinople.

Passing so close by the City that a man on board could almost cry out to another man on the walls — and by night — was as audacious as anything I’d yet seen from Shahin. But it made perfect sense. You can’t expect to last long in your enemy’s home waters by skulking from inlet to inlet. Anyone looking out from the walls able to see our shape would assume we were hurrying past in the dark to avoid payment of tolls.

I pulled Antonia closer. ‘Do you see that gap in the lights?’ I asked, pointing. ‘It should be the Emperor’s private harbour. Swim towards the left-hand side. I’ll be close behind you.’ She twisted free and pushed herself harder against the wall. She whimpered something that I couldn’t make out. I took her firmly by the arm and led her towards the rail. ‘We’ll jump together,’ I urged.

‘Not thinking to leave us so soon, Alaric?’ I heard Shahin say from my right. Someone beside him pulled the cover off a lamp and I saw the gleam of a sword in Shahin’s hand.

‘I told you to kill him while you could,’ Simon cried. He was holding the lamp at waist level. It was easy to see that he was indeed the man who’d brought me the alleged letter from Nicetas. He’d changed out of his fussy robe and was wearing a turban that made him look faintly oriental. But the squint and the bearded face were unmistakeable.

Shahin lowered his sword. ‘There will be no killing tonight,’ he said. He stepped forward. ‘Alaric, things are not entirely as they seem,’ he continued in Persian, ‘Let’s go below to discuss matters like civilised men. You have my personal guarantee of safety. The Great King himself has commanded not a hair of your head to be touched.’ He smiled. ‘Come, dear friend. Come down and have a wash. You can even put your clothes on.’

As he handed his sword to one of his Syrians, I felt two men take hold of me from each side. ‘You can cover the lamp,’ he said in Greek to Simon. ‘We can’t risk being seen from shore.’ He stepped past me, on his way into the deck cabin.

I’d got this far. Nothing short of overpowering force would get me below again. I untensed my body and raised my arms as if to begin pleading. Of a sudden, and relying on the blood that still made me slippery, I twisted free and rounded on the men behind me. One got my knife into his stomach. The other saved himself by sprawling backwards. I tore Antonia from the man who was trying to drag her away from the side and pulled her towards me.