Tim Severin - King's Man

'So you think Zoe was the poisoner, but not the person who arranged for Romanus to have an accident during his swim,' I asked.

'It's hard to say. If the empress did plot with her lover to do away with Romanus and rule the empire through him, she's been disappointed. Michael, my sister tells me, has been acting as if he alone is in charge. She is not consulted on matters of state - they are all taken care of by his brother, the Orphanotrophus. So if Zoe had nothing to do with the murder, she may well bring an accusation against the new Basileus in order to overthrow him. Either way, you are in real danger. If there is an enquiry, the investigating tribunal will call witnesses to Romanus's death, and their usual way of interrogating witnesses is to torture them.'

'I don't follow you,' I said. 'Surely if there was a conspiracy between Zoe and Michael, neither party would want to risk it being discovered. And if only Michael is guilty, and perhaps the Orphanotrophus as well, then Zoe would be unlikely to harm the man with whom she is infatuated.'

'You don't know what a silly and capricious woman Zoe' can be, despite her age and position,' Pelagia replied witheringly. 'My sister has been talking to some of the people who look after Zoe's wardrobe. Apparently Zoe feels that she is a woman scorned. Michael has banished her to the gynaeceum, and doesn't even visit her bedchamber as often as when she was still married to Romanus. Now there is even a rumour that Michael has some sort of incurable sickness and that the Orphanotrophus deliberately hid that fact from Zoe when he first introduced him to her.'

The intrigues of the court were beyond normal comprehension, I thought to myself. Never would I be able to untangle the subterfuges of those who seek or wield absolute power. It would be better for me to make myself as unobtrusive as possible and place my trust in the protection of Odinn, the arch-deceiver. I promised myself that next time my Christianised comrades in the guard went off to pray in the new church to St Olaf, I would find a quiet spot and make an offering to the All Wise. Perhaps the God of Cargoes would show me a way out of my predicament.

It turned out that Odinn answered even before I made the sacrifice. But first he gave me a fright I was to remember for the rest of my days in the service of the Basileus.

Early in June Pelagia told me that a report was sweeping the city that a force of Rus were about to attack Constantinople. A war fleet had been sighted making its way down the great river which leads from the kingdom of Kiev.

'Of course you know that route yourself, Thorgils. That's the way you came to Constantinople,' Pelagia said. She was standing in the shade of the portico behind her bread stall, chatting with a group of her fellow traders while her assistant sold the loaves off the counter.

'No, I came by a different route, along another river further east. But it's much the same thing: all paths lead to Constantinople.'

'Just as all Rus are much the same thing — violent, hairy barbarians who worship idols.' The jibe came from one of Pelagia's fellow stallholders, another bread-seller who had the chirpy swagger of a true city-dweller. Over his stall hung a crudely sketched picture of the White Christ issuing loaves and fishes to the multitude, so I knew him to be a vehement Christian.

'Well, not exactly,' I corrected him mildly. 'The people you lump together as Rus are all sorts and types - those who come from Kiev are Christians and acknowledge your own Great Patriarch. Others like myself are from the lands of the northmen and, while we follow our own gods, we come to trade not to fight. Half your churches would be in darkness if those so-called barbarians didn't bring beeswax from the northern forests for you to turn into candles to illuminate your painted saints while you adore them.'

The stallholder was not to be placated. 'This city can defend itself whatever that scum throws at it. You would have thought they had learned their lesson last time.' He saw I had missed his point. 'My grandfather loved telling me how we dealt with those ignorant savages the last time they dared to assault the Queen of Cities. They showed up with their fleet expecting to swarm in and put the place to the sack. But Blessed Mary and our Basileus protected us. The enemy never even got past the city walls -much too strong for them. So they muddled about, went here and there in their stupid, mindless way, raiding and raping in small settlements along the coast. But all the while our Basileus was biding his time. He waited until the Rus were off guard, and then sent out our ships and caught them fair and square. We burned them to cinders with the Fire. They never knew what hit them. Less than a hundred of them returned home. It was a massacre. My grandfather told me that burned bodies were washing up on the shore, and you could smell the stench of burned flesh . . .' At that moment he must have remembered how Pelagia's husband had died, for his voice trailed away in embarrassment and he looked down at his feet before finding an excuse to turn away and attend to the display on his stall.

I was about to ask Pelagia what the man had meant by 'the Fire', when I heard my name called out, and turned to see Halfdan pushing through the crowd towards me. Close behind him was a palace messenger.

'There you are, Thorgils. Thought I might find you here with Pelagia,' Halfdan exclaimed, though without the innuendo that normally accompanied his mention of Pelagia's name. 'There's some sort of flap on at the palace, and it involves you. You are to report at once to the office of the Orphanotrophus. It's urgent.'

Panic gripped me as I glanced across at Pelagia. There was no mistaking the alarm in her expression too.

I quickly followed the messenger to the palace. He brought me to the office of the Orphanotrophus, where I noticed that the emperor's eunuch brother had appropriated for himself the chambers immediately beside the staterooms of the Basileus. My colleagues who were on duty glanced at me curiously as I passed them. Never before had any of them seen a mere guardsman summoned in this way.

A moment later my stomach was churning with anxiety as I stood in front of John. He was sitting at an ornate desk, reading through a document, and when he raised his head to look at me, I thought how very tired he seemed. His eyes were sunk even deeper than usual. Perhaps the cares of state were weighing more heavily than he had expected, or maybe the rumours in the marketplace were true: that the Orphanotrophus never slept, but in the night dressed up as a monk and walked the streets of the city, eavesdropping on conversations, questioning ordinary citizens and learning the mood of the people. It was little wonder that people feared him. Certainly I felt sick with apprehension as I waited for him to speak. And his first words told me that he remembered exactly who I was.

'I have summoned you because you speak excellent Greek as well as Varangian,' he said. 'I have a mission for you.'

The tight knot in my stomach began to relax, but only for a moment. Was this another court deceit? Was the Orphanotrophus putting me at ease before revealing his true intention?

'My agents tell me that a large force of Rus is approaching. It appears that there are about five hundred of them travelling in monocylon, the vessels which traders from Rus normally use, and they are coming by the same route.'

Five hundred Rus did not amount to an invading force, I thought to myself. The market rumour was greatly exaggerated. It would take at least ten times that number to pose a threat to Constantinople's well-tried defences.

As though reading my mind, the Orphanotrophus added, 'I'm not concerned about the safety of the city. What does interest me is that my informants tell me these men are not merchants. They do not carry trade goods, they are heavily armed and there is a report that their leader is some sort of prince or nobleman. His name is Araltes, or something like that. Do you know anyone by this name?'