Richard Blake - The Sword of Damascus

‘Tell me, Joseph,’ I broke into his emollient flow, ‘how did you know that I’d do the Empire’s work? You were sent out to Jarrow to keep me safe from Cuthbert and Hrothgar. When that failed, you were sent after me to make sure I never got here. The orders then changed to making sure that I did get here, and that the more intrepid attempts on me by the Angels of the Lord came to nothing. But you never bothered telling me what I was supposed to do.’

‘As you said yesterday to Meekal,’ Joseph said very smoothly, ‘you never stopped working for the Empire.’ He looked back into my scowl and allowed himself a cold, bureaucratic laugh. He ignored the feeble attempt that Khadija was making to be heard. Doubtless, she was less interested in how he’d got a spy into the prison than in his own presence in Jarrow.

‘But, very well,’ he continued, ‘you deserve some kind of explanation. When Meekal first suggested your abduction from Jarrow, we heard both from the Lady Khadija and from our other spies. We quietly assisted the Lady Khadija’s own conspiracy to have you murdered before Meekal could lay hands on you. However, we made sure that her plan was never likely to succeed. I did not choose Brother Cuthbert myself. But I am impressed at the ability of our French agents to find so heroically useless a man, and at such short notice. Even so, I went out myself to Jarrow to make sure that Cuthbert’s plan failed and that Meekal’s succeeded. I than put myself through the motions of a pursuit across the Mediterranean, and of various murder attempts in Beirut and in Damascus. We needed Meekal to believe you were not working for us. And we needed the Lady Khadija to confirm this belief should we ever decide to betray her to Meekal.’ He allowed himself another chuckle as Khadija went into some kind of fit deep within her clothing. I poured myself a cup of wine. Joseph could stay with the water. He paid no visible attention to the slight, and continued with quiet enjoyment.

‘As you know, the plan did not at first work out exactly as was hoped. As Cuthbert was trying to open the gate of the monastery – not realising that Meekal’s people were now in charge outside – he was killed by the boy Wilfred-’

‘Now, do tell me about that,’ I broke in. ‘It’s something I guessed long ago. But I’d like to hear the details. What could have possessed poor little Wilfred to do anything so energetic?’

‘I have no idea,’ Joseph said with some faint recollection of the annoyance. ‘But it was Wilfred. I have no idea what could have spurred him to that. I never thought him capable of lifting more than one of the lighter books in the monastery library. But Wilfred it was. This was an inconvenient act, as I now wanted the gate open. As the boy lay sobbing and calling on God to strike him dead for his sins, I did intend to open the gate myself. It was now that someone – almost certainly the boy Edward, whom I had never suspected of involvement – hit me hard from behind on the head. By the time I was able to get free of the monastery, you had all vanished.

‘I caught up with you off the coast of Africa. What you were doing there was a surprise to me. But, since I expected you to continue from there to Beirut, we needed to give you cause to believe that we wanted you dead. Even so, you made your way to Caesarea. There, I might have spoken to you directly. But I had no reason to believe you would have cooperated. So I instead nudged you towards Beirut. What happened thereafter needs no explaining.’

I asked about the meeting Hrothgar had mentioned to Edward in Kasos. I got no answer. I dropped this and moved to the more interesting question of how he’d guessed I would act as I did. Joseph permitted himself another laugh.

‘There are some things that can be planned down to the smallest detail,’ he explained. ‘Other things must be left to the workings of Providence. God is on our side. We knew He would not allow you to do other than your duty. And you will not be aware of how much we had to trust to God.’

‘I know about the earthquake in Constantinople,’ I said with a look at Khadija. ‘I guessed what was expected of me when you spoke behind me in Caesarea. When I heard about the earthquake, I understood the reason. Tell me – how serious is the breach?’

‘The walls won’t be ready to withstand another siege for at least another three years,’ Joseph said. ‘Every time we think the work is nearing completion, the engineers find more evidence of undermining. What we have was enough to stop some barbarians earlier this year. It wouldn’t stop the Saracens if they turned up in force.’ He turned to Khadija, who, now she’d removed her veil, was looking rather cowed. ‘We had no idea, My Lady, how close Meekal was to success. We only knew that a renewed attack on the city – this time with our own weapons – would be successful. We were and are grateful for your own efforts to starve him of resources. But we could not afford to let him succeed in his project.’

‘Do you mean we could attack next year and win?’ Khadija asked. She sat bolt upright. I could see her whole body shaking with the horror of what she’d just heard.

‘I mean, My Lady,’ Joseph took up, ‘that you could have attacked and won. You could have attacked next year, or the year after that, or the year after that. You could have removed Meekal, and, even under your own incompetent direction, your people could have conquered the Empire. Partly thanks to you, that is no longer possible. I have no doubt you will win a battle here and there against us. I share Alaric’s view that we neither can nor should attempt the recovery of Syria and Egypt. You are welcome to Africa. But you really have now missed your chance to destroy the Empire. The next time you are in any position to go back on the offensive, we shall be waiting for you.’ He laughed again, now with more genuine humour.

‘Really, Khadija,’ he said when her face stopped twitching as if she’d suffered a stroke, ‘you have done yourself a considerable favour. One of these days, you will stand before Saint Peter. I am sure that, in view of how you have played your own unwitting part in our plan, he will overlook your noxious heathenism.’ She now got up and paced about the room. Serves the old bitch right, I thought. But Joseph still wasn’t finished. He looked back at me.

‘And so, My Lord Alaric, the question remains of what is to be done with you.’ He paused and smiled coldly into my face. ‘You will appreciate that you cannot be left in Damascus or in any other place ruled by the Caliph. You are the most dangerous man alive. I spent yesterday looking round the site of the explosion you produced. Within what remains of those monastery walls, there is nothing but a crater twenty feet deep, and the sand there has turned to a sort of glass that cracks and splinters underfoot. We cannot afford to let you do anything like that again for the Caliph. For all the good they would then be to us, we might as well leave the walls of the city unrepaired.

‘At the same time, His Majestic Holiness has already told Eusebius that you will not be allowed to return to Constantinople. The evidence of his own senses has told him not to allow you anywhere near your old laboratories in Constantinople.’

‘So, which of you will arrange for my “accidental” death?’ I asked. Joseph and Khadija looked at each other.

‘Karim is Governor of Syria,’ Joseph replied. ‘We all have good reason not to alienate him. That means that you must be left alive until such time as God calls you to Himself. We cannot tell ourselves any longer with confidence when that might be. Even so, you are to be spared.’ He paused again and smiled. ‘Have you never missed all your dear friends in Jarrow?’ he asked.