Richard Blake - The Curse of Babylon

We crept down the stairs. There were a couple of lamps burning there, but the main hall should be empty. Our luck ought to hold.

It didn’t. I poked my head briefly round the corner and, in a parodic echo of the previous day, found myself looking into Shahin’s face.

His eyes widened for a moment in the gloom. He blinked and then smiled. ‘Hello, Alaric,’ he cried softly in Greek. He steadied himself against the statue of Antinous. ‘I never doubted you were listening overhead. But I was beginning to fear you’d found a less obvious way out of here.’

I shoved Antonia backward and stepped into the hall. ‘Were you fellating that statue?’ I asked with mock outrage.

He shrugged and grinned. ‘From the shine on that perfectly formed member,’ he sniggered, ‘I’m hardly the first. Such admirable men, these Greeks of the olden days, don’t you think?’ He kissed one of the thighs and stood reluctantly back.

I thought of going for my sword. That would never do. I could cut my way past Shahin, and take out the two men who were still squatting on their haunches beside the bronze of Hercules. But the noise would send Timothy and Eunapius into a foaming panic that was the last thing I wanted. Shahin gave a friendly smile and spread his arms. ‘I think I can guess yours,’ he said, ‘but I do have my own reasons for avoiding any public fuss. Any chance of a quick word in private?’

Shahin turned from his inspection of the book racks. ‘Not much of a library,’ he sniffed. ‘Most of this stuff is barely fit for heating the baths.’ I was by the door. His two men had followed him up the wide staircase to this upper level and were looking impassively in at me. I smiled at them and shut the door in their faces.

Again with his back to me, Shahin pulled another book from its leather case and unrolled it a few turns. ‘So this is the latest fashion in poetry?’ he asked accusingly. He dropped one of the spines and allowed the book to unroll completely. ‘These modern Greeks are sadly decayed, don’t you think? Perhaps Chosroes is right that the time is come for a new language to dominate the East.’ He sniggered and went back to his inspection. ‘But look at this metaphor. It doesn’t even scan.’

I walked across the room and, keeping just out of reach, bent down to look at the opening sheet of the book. Shahin tipped the lamp forward so I could read the neat rows of text. ‘It’s not so very bad,’ I said. ‘You should have been where I was earlier tonight.’ I straightened up. ‘But I don’t think your main interest here is literary criticism. Can I take it that you’d like to bypass those losers downstairs and deal directly with the possessor of the Horn of Babylon?’

He sniggered again. ‘It has its convenient side,’ he said, now in Persian, ‘that you overheard everything. So, yes — let’s talk about the Horn of Babylon. I do wish I’d known, when we had that yummy dinner onboard my ship yesterday, that you had it. We could have saved much time — and avoided so many embarrassments.’ He dropped the other spine of the book and perched himself on one of the reading tables. ‘How can I persuade you to give it to me? I don’t imagine money will tempt you. I daren’t make you Emperor: you’d find a competent general, and ease his path straight to Ctesiphon with gold and diplomacy. So what price has pretty young Alaric in mind?’

‘You could try guessing,’ I answered. I moved the lamp to another table, where Shahin’s rhythmical swinging of legs wouldn’t tip it over. I pulled over a chair and sat down a couple of yards from him. If I could arrest him, I’d kill the plot stone dead. But he was easily a match for me with his sword — that was one exercise he’d never neglected. And there were his men to keep in mind. At best, he’d get away. At worst, the noise would bounce Timothy and Eunapius into a revolution that might succeed.

Shahin watched my face. He smiled knowingly. ‘You can’t keep the silver cup,’ he said. ‘You can’t give it to Heraclius. But you’ve probably worked that out for yourself. As for those idiots we left snapping at each other, you can’t make a deal with them. Since old Priscus croaked his last, Timothy has taken over as shitbag in chief. He’d have a knife in your back before he could draw breath from saying “Many thanks, dear boy.” So why not bring it to me while I wait at the docks? You can come with me to Shahrbaraz. Bring the girl too. You’ll be surprised how merciful and forgiving Chosroes can be to those who give him what he wants.’

‘That would be a side to the Great King’s character I haven’t yet seen,’ I said. ‘How about telling me why the cup is so important?’

He giggled again. ‘Since the cup goes where you go for the moment,’ he said, ‘let’s talk about you.’ He straightened his face. ‘Look, Alaric, my orders include an express instruction to keep you from harm, so far as I can, and to beg you to come back to Ctesiphon. Chosroes promises a total safe conduct and will swear any oath to that effect.’

‘I’ve seen how your boss keeps his promises,’ I said. Far down in the main hall, I heard a noise. It was followed by one of?Timothy’s rumbling laughs. Either they’d finally settled on the next Emperor, or they were sick of arguing. I walked across to the door and listened. I turned back to Shahin. ‘Supposing I refuse to do business with you?’ I asked.

‘You’d be a fool, Alaric,’ he said. ‘You owe fuck all to Heraclius. Everyone else in this Empire is praying for your death. Come back with me to Ctesiphon. The Jews will always put in a kind word for you. Our own Christians are at war with the Empire over theological trifles — and they appreciate your efforts at securing a toleration within the Empire of their heresies. All Chosroes wants is to put some ideas to you. I know he still likes you.’

I walked to the far end of the room. I put my hand on a solid rack that had once contained a full set of Livy. The brass plate on one of the square openings still gave the name and title of the work. Some of the slots, I’d found on an earlier visit, were now filled with trashy novels in Greek. The others were used for a guessing game with dice. I turned and stared back at Shahin. The moon had shifted and he sat within a shaft of its dim light.

‘I’ll grant that Heraclius may not be pleased to know I’ve learned his secret,’ I said. ‘However, I’ve always been able to bring him round. I don’t feel so sure about the Great King. And why should I trust you ?’

‘That’s a chance you’ll have to take, my beautiful darling,’ he chuckled. He got up and went over to the door. He pulled it open and possibly a dozen of his big Syrians filed in. ‘Now that we’re alone, I think I can risk a little noise. Take the boy alive,’ he ordered in Syriac. ‘I want him unhurt.’

Shahin and his men were thirty feet away. I was beside one of the bigger windows. Though glazed, its lead framework was perished. Beyond this, I knew, was a ten-foot drop to a tiled roof. ‘Oh, Shahin,’ I said, ‘you can’t be serious about taking me. It’ll soon be dawn. If you expect to march me all the way home to get that cup, you’ll be making your way back through the City in broad daylight.’

His men were coming forward in loose formation. Shahin kept behind them. ‘That isn’t my plan at all, my pretty,’ he called soothingly. ‘I’m assuming the attraction between you and that girl is mutual. You’re coming with me — though perhaps to better quarters than we managed last night. If the girl brings the cup tomorrow, I won’t kill her. If she doesn’t, you must appreciate that you’re almost as big a trophy to carry back as the cup itself.’ He bowed satirically and touched his forehead. He dropped his voice to a bureaucratic snarl. ‘I don’t want a mark on him,’ he reminded his men.