The Curse of Babylon (46 page)

I waited for him to stop farting. I’d applied the stick. Time, now he was on the verge of moral collapse, to show the carrot. ‘Leander, there is, in one of my filing boxes, a sealed patent granting you a position in the bureaucracy. It’s worth forty seven
solidi
a year. You can rent a small house on that and keep two slaves. I’ve added a variation that gives you this by right, not at will. Once published, only an emperor will be able to cancel the appointment.’ I waited for this to sink in. ‘Is it your highest ambition to spend the rest of his life spraying flattery at Nicetas? He’s not exactly an ideal patron.’

Leander put both hands on his belly and leaned forward. I thought he was about to vomit. Instead, he was crying. ‘How do I know you’ll keep your word?’ he sobbed.

Another easy one to answer. ‘I have a reputation for honesty and fair dealing,’ I said. I stood up and moved away from Leander. He was deep in shadow but had the best sight of me a waxing moon allowed. ‘This is a reputation that brings many advantages. Why should I risk it on doing you over? Oh, I may, now and again, wriggle out of big promises. But I can always find a convincing excuse for that. And it’s against a deep background of promises to people like you that I
never
break.’ I waited for the logic of my case to seep into his mind. ‘So, I put it to you, Leander: I’m your best chance of staying alive and of making it to a security that few poets achieve.
Will you get me in front of Nicetas?
’

He kept his head almost between his knees. But I could tell from the way he breathed that Alaric the Golden-Tongued – Alaric, who could make the worse appear the better reason: Alaric, who was presently telling the truth – had made the necessary conquest. Search me what I was to tell Nicetas when, like Cleopatra from her carpet, I appeared before him. But neither of the main alternatives to talking sense into the fool was greatly to my convenience. Now he was my prospective father-in-law, watching him dragged off to the Fortified Monastery had lost all its old charm. And, if one of them had just been put out of action, there were over a hundred other catapults that could be unbolted from the city walls.

I reached out to Leander. ‘Put your hand in mine,’ I said softly. ‘Get me to Nicetas. I’ll do the rest. Do this for yourself – and for Antonia.’

Something metallic scraped against the street side of the statue. This was followed by a light patter of feet. I pushed Rado back. ‘No, stay here with the little Greek,’ I murmured. Sword in hand, I darted out of cover.

The street was empty – rather, it had been almost empty. In the moment before it disappeared, though, I’d seen enough of the flutter of dark cloth against the darker shadow of the far colonnade.

I took a deep breath. I shut off the approach of a rage darker than the shadow of the colonnade. ‘I won’t ask you to explain yourself,’ I said in Latin. ‘But you can come out of hiding.’ How she’d made it this far in life might be used as a minor proof of God’s existence.

Chapter 46

Though it was well past the midnight hour, the square in which Nicetas had his palace was brightly lit. Two huge torches burned above the main entrance. Armed men stood beneath, stopping and mostly turning back the flow of visitors. Right in the middle of the square, a gang of drunken proles was raucously hailing Nicetas as the new Emperor. As yet, no one took notice of them. Leander hurried us past the line of well-dressed supplicants and seemed about to avoid the guards altogether.

Not quite. ‘Here, mate, where do you think you’re going?’ The guard stepped backwards through the gateway and leaned his right arm against the wall. He drummed the fingers of his left hand on his breastplate.

It was Leander’s turn to step backwards. He pressed shaking hands against his thighs and tried for an easy smile. ‘I am Court Poet to His Magnificence the Commander of the East,’ he squeaked. ‘If you send for your superior officer, he will readily confirm that I am not to be delayed as I go about my Master’s business.’

The guard’s answer was to hawk and spit, his gob just missing Leander’s feet. He turned his attention to me. ‘Big for a monk, aren’t we?’ he asked. He stood on tiptoe and peered suspiciously into what I hoped was the darkness within my hood. One hand raised to pull at the hood and he’d have been dead before he hit the ground. I’d have been halfway to the Central Milestone, with Antonia pulled along behind me, before the other guards could check that he was dead.

I kept my arms folded inside the long sleeves of my robe. ‘I am Father Gregory,’ I said in my Syrian accent. ‘The Lordship’s poet has brought us through all the danger of the streets on a mission of great importance.’ I bowed respectfully, shuffling forward an inch to finish the work of concealing Antonia.

Still looking closely at me, the guard took his arm from against the wall. It might have been a friendly action. Just as likely, it allowed him all the quicker to go for his sword. ‘Where are you from?’ he asked in Syriac. ‘The Lord Nicetas has his own spiritual advisers in residence. Why does anyone need more than that?’

He was lighter than most Syrians and his Greek was completely idiomatic. He’d taken me by surprise. But I bowed again. ‘From Edessa, my son,’ I answered in his own language. I’d been there more than once. I could describe its sights well enough for anyone who wasn’t a native. It was where I’d learned my Syriac. I tightened my grip on the short sword I was pressing with my right hand against my left forearm. ‘We were asked to send holy oil from the lamp that burns before the relics of Saint Aerumenus the Merciful.’

The guard looked at the satchel I had about my neck. Someone behind me coughed loudly. Someone else began a jingling of coins in his hand that could have only one meaning. He looked at me again. ‘You can go in,’ he said, now back in Greek. ‘Captain Silenus is at the top of the main staircase. Make your way straight to him. Don’t go near the private quarters. We’ve had orders to kill on sight.’

‘My own quarters are this way,’ Antonia whispered. She pointed at a door that, flush against the wall, was the same colour as the wall. She stood before it and was about to rap against it with her knuckles. ‘Daddy has a eunuch on guard there at all times,’ she explained.

Leander got in before me. ‘Please, My Lady,’ he begged, ‘don’t tell
anyone
. Aren’t we in enough danger?’

She pulled her hood back and frowned. ‘You always were a wet blanket, Leander,’ she snapped. ‘Why don’t you just go off to bed?’ Though still barely above a whisper, her voice was loud enough to set up a sibilant echo in the big hall.

‘You can put that fucking hood back on,’ I snarled in Latin. I’d shown a most remarkable restraint in not stripping her naked before the statue of Cicero and slapping her arse till she cried – not, I might add, that she would have cried. Not having any obvious alternative in mind, I’d let her change clothes with Rado, and given him a direct order to wait for us near the secret entrance to the Great Sewer. He’d nearly boiled over with anger at the order, and I’d been sorry to see him go. I’d then let her tag along on an adventure that I was too proud to explain had no specific purpose. But I’d not stand by and let her queen it over the palace eunuchs. Even if, in my present mood, it was only so I could knock her about afterwards, I wanted the two of us to stay alive.

‘I was only going to . . .’ She fell silent before I could step on one of her feet. Drifting from one of the state rooms it had been Antonia’s idea to avoid was the unmistakable whine of Eunapius in rattled mood.

His voice was overlain by one of Timothy’s contemptuous laughs. Eunapius waited for this to finish. ‘So why didn’t
you
try persuading him?’ he asked with a show of defiance.

‘Never mind drinking, dear boy,’ Timothy said in a whisper that carried all the way to us. ‘You won’t get a horse to water if you can’t first flog it to its feet. I’m going home, to think what to do next.’ He stopped a few inches short of coming through the door. I could see the shadow of his bulk cast by the bright mass of candles within the room. ‘Whatever I do, Eunapius, will not involve you. Take it as friendly advice or as a threat. But, when I have made such arrangements as I must, I shall not be grateful for the efforts you made to entice me and my friends into this dangerous apology for a plot.’ He turned and continued into the hall where, for want of anywhere to hide, the three of us were trying to look inconspicuous.

‘Ah, Leander!’ Timothy cried, spreading his arms in satirical good humour. ‘Barely one moment ago, the Lord Nicetas was lamenting your absence – and here you now are!’ He twisted his face into a polite smile. ‘Was the catapult attack a disaster, or only an embarrassing failure?’

‘Forty people died, My Lord – mostly in the panic,’ said Leander. ‘However, I am assured another try will be made in the morning.’ He looked at me from the corner of his eyes. ‘I was told the Lord Alaric would be pulled dead or alive from the rubble of his stinking lair.’

‘Dead would be some consolation for all the trouble he’s caused us!’ Timothy snorted. ‘His capacity for staying alive has disordered every plan in sight.’ He walked over to a big mirror that was hung against the marbled walls. He arranged his wig and pulled at his baggy features. He looked at me and sniffed appreciatively. I’d managed, in the Great Sewer, to avoid treading in the yard thickness of its various deposits. Without the ventilation of the outside breeze, though, its miasma was spreading about me again like an invisible fog. ‘I don’t care what anyone says,’ he muttered to his own reflection. ‘The Intelligence Bureau
must
have got wind of this plot. Now it’s plain there will be no change of Emperor, it’s a matter of hours before the agents come off the fence.’ He turned away from the mirror. ‘I’m out of this plot and glad of it,’ he said with loud finality. He made for what I supposed would be one of the side entrances. Stopping this side of a big doorway, he turned and looked back at us. ‘Eunapius,’ he called softly, ‘I’ll make myself plain to you. The next time we meet must be in an interrogation cell without a shorthand clerk. I can’t have you denouncing me to Heraclius. Your good friend Simon has a ship ready in one of the coastal harbours. Why don’t you just sail off in it and throw yourself on Shahin’s mercy? One way or the other, you’re taking the whole blame for this when Heraclius gets back. You might as well give yourself some chance of staying alive. Yes, go and see Shahin. The Persians can be most hospitable – even to those who have only tried to do them a service.’ He laughed grimly and continued into the next big room.

Eunapius dropped into a padded chair beside the mirror. ‘Oh Jesus, what am I to do?’ he called in soft despair. ‘I’m a dead man after tonight.’ He buried his face in his hands. ‘He’s right about the Intelligence Bureau. I’ll be arrested at dawn.’ Antonia turned her hooded face in my direction. I shook my head. When you don’t know where to go next, best stand still. Eunapius sat upright. With most of his face powder transferred to his hands, he looked much older, and the twitching of his jaw muscles was fully evident. He stared at Leander. ‘You do know that the young shit got a message to Heraclius before we sealed him in that fortress he took from old Priscus?’ he asked bitterly. Leander bowed silently. Safe inside my hood, I smiled. Anyone with an ounce of intelligence would have set pickets at all the city gates. I’d been worrying about that for days. Any moment, I’d been expecting to see the messenger’s head sent over one of the balconies by a slingshot. Well, the idiots had let him go. By now, even Heraclius would have finished with dithering. He would be assembling every regiment within a three-day march from the City. He’d be preparing letters of instruction and reassurance for the provincial authorities. In the next few days, he’d turn up outside the walls. No one would slam the gates in his face for the sake of Nicetas. Because I’d discovered the plot, I could probably insist on due process for the plotters. That would allow me to watch the executions with an easy mind. Also, a month of trials could be made to produce a wider benefit.

How did Eunapius know any of this? From Nicetas, I could have no doubt. Perhaps a stern message had already arrived from Cyzicus. You didn’t need that to set Nicetas into one of his fits of total immobility – but it might have helped.

Suddenly, Eunapius jumped to his feet. ‘Leander,’ he said urgently, ‘Nicetas listens to you. He respects your – your genius.’ He took hold of Leander’s arm. ‘
You
speak to him. You were there. You’ve seen the catapult. We just need a morning bombardment and Nicetas can be Emperor. It’s the barbarian who’s in our way. Without him, everyone will gather round Nicetas. But he’s got to give the order for attack. You’ve
got
to speak to him!’

There was a sound of boots coming down stairs. ‘What’s all this fucking noise?’ someone asked in a vaguely military voice. ‘Doesn’t no one go to bed in this place?’ That was a nuisance. I’d been speculating on the benefits to be had from pulling Eunapius into a darkish corner for a few pointed questions, followed by a visit to Nicetas. The dark head looking over the balustrade told me to keep my mouth shut. Good advice! I was winning. It might be for the best simply to go home and wait.