The Curse of Babylon (51 page)

I looked at Demosthenes and waited for the pain that had broken through the drugs and the wall of self-control to crawl away again. It was for dark little Greeks, swarming in streets built by their ancestors, to wail and rend their garments when faced with disorders of the spirit. For Alaric of Britain – no, for
Aelric of England
– it should always be a stiff upper lip. ‘She is to be my wife,’ I said once I was sure my voice wouldn’t tremble.

Priscus drank his wine. ‘You have set a trail on Shahin?’ he asked quietly.

I shook my head. ‘Everything that could keep up with his ship is with the rest of the fleet in Cyzicus.’ I reached for another heap of documents and pulled out a listing of the forces available. ‘Heraclius has left the City undefended by sea. We haven’t even enough city guards to spare for sending a dozen fast riders to alert the coastal cities.’

‘She is a member of the Imperial Family,’ Priscus reminded me. ‘It’s an ancient rule between us and the Persians that members of each ruling family are treated well. Who was that Emperor who was captured by the Persians three hundred and odd years ago? I’m told he was treated very well.’

‘It was Valerian,’ I answered automatically. ‘According to one account I read, King Shapur had molten gold poured down his throat. Another account I read in Ctesiphon says he was flayed alive, and his skin was stuffed with straw and set up as an ornament in the Great King’s bedroom.’

There was a long silence. One of the lamps was running low on oil and I watched the shadow of my own wine cup flicker against the wall. Priscus gave a long sigh. ‘The box is important,’ he said. ‘But we’re talking about contingency on contingency here. The Persians have always been crap when it comes to gathering intelligence. You may be assuming too much about Shahin’s knowledge. Otherwise, you have to assume the Persian General Staff will believe the box isn’t a clever trap. Beyond that, Chosroes will need to be persuaded to call off his planned invasion of Egypt –
and
that his armies can march through the Home Provinces,
and
that they can get across the straits,
and
that an absolutely impregnable city, just purged of treason, will then tamely open its gates. Before any of that, you’ve just got yourself into a position where you control everything that Heraclius hears. The box and its cup disappeared ten days ago from those who, for whatever reason, had it in their possession. That’s all he needs to be told.

‘Must you let a silly thing like love mess everything up?’

I didn’t answer. Instead, I stood up and walked to the linen map of the Empire still spread out on the office floor. I pointed at the Black Sea coast. ‘Shahin is cautious,’ I said. ‘He won’t put in anywhere west of Trebizond. But his ship has a draught shallow enough to put in almost anywhere. He doesn’t need an actual port. The other question is which route will he take towards the zone of Persian conquest?’

Priscus was staring up at the gilded plaster on the ceiling. ‘You’ll never catch up with him,’ he said flatly. ‘Even starting tomorrow – and even knowing his route – you’ll be days behind him. You’ll be days behind him by ship, that is, if he’s going no further than Trebizond. As for that whole region, once you’re out of the coastal plain – why, you’ll be lost in no time. You’ll find no reliable guides even in Trebizond, I can tell you. Unless you can come up with your own version of Ariadne’s ball of string, you might as well give up on any thought of going after Shahin.’ He looked steadily at me. ‘My advice is to stay here. Make yourself absolutely irreplaceable to Heraclius, and wait on events. I do assure you, the Persians won’t kill the girl. She’s far too valuable.’

There was another knock on the door. Priscus had no time to get himself out of sight again. But it was Samo alone this time. He dropped a folded and sealed sheet of parchment in my hand, before reeling back through the door.

I broke the seal and read. ‘Sergius arrived in the City just before dark,’ I said. ‘He begs me to attend on him and tell him what to do.’ My regency was officially over. I’d have to skip another night’s rest if I wanted to lay down the right course of action to His Holiness the Patriarch. But every important decision I’d taken already. Sergius would change nothing.

I went over to the door and opened it. ‘You may never have thought you’d hear this from me, Priscus, ‘but I have urgent need of skills in which no man living may be your equal.’

Chapter 51

His nerve mostly recovered, Eunapius tried to smile at me across the table. ‘I’m not talking to you, Alaric,’ he said. ‘Whatever I have to say is for the Emperor alone. Are you going to kill me? Are you going to put me on a rack? I hardly think so. You’re simply not the sort for that.’

I’d taken yet another dose of stimulant. I ignored the shadows that always darted about the cellar just out of my sight, and stared at Leander. Looking scared and miserable, his face was turned down at a sheet of papyrus on which he’d so far written a date and time and our three names. I shut my eyes and rubbed the marks of strain from my face. I sat up and reached into a satchel for another sheet of papyrus, this one covered in untidy handwriting that continued beneath the seal.

‘Eunapius,’ I began again, ‘I have in my hand a sworn denunciation from Nicetas. This and much else prove your treason beyond reasonable doubt. Heraclius will not question the written testimony of his own cousin. The longer you refuse me information that is urgently needed for the safety of the Empire, the greater will be your eventual punishment. Now, let me repeat myself – where is Shahin going with the Horn of Babylon? Where will his ship put in? And where has he agreed to meet his army of escort?’

Eunapius hawked and spat. His gob missed me and landed on one of Leander’s sleeves. ‘Piss off, you puffed up ball of barbarian shit!’ he laughed. ‘Everyone knows you’re holding me and I claim the rights of my class. The moment Sergius sets foot in the City, your regency lapses. I demand safe delivery to the Patriarch and then my right of audience with the Emperor. Once he’s heard what I have to tell him, your day will be over for good.’

I leaned forward across the table. ‘I’ve given you every chance to answer my questions,’ I said. ‘I’ve even offered you a conditional immunity from prosecution. What I will give you now is your last chance.
Will you answer my questions?
’

‘Piss off?!’ he said again. He looked in my face and his nerve began to drain away. ‘I don’t know where they’ve gone,’ he whined. ‘Shahin never told me anything. You need to question Nicetas.’ He pointed at Leander. ‘Why don’t you ask
him
? He knows more than I do.’

I sighed and stood up. This was going in circles. Given time, I could have broken through both outright defiance and claims of ignorance. But there was no time. ‘Then you give me no choice, Eunapius,’ I said in sorrowful tone. I went over to an iron door. ‘Will you relent?’ No answer. I rapped gently against the door. I watched it grate slowly inwards and turned to see its effect on Eunapius.

He looked, blinked, and opened his mouth to scream. He tried to get up but was pushed back into his chair by Samo. ‘You’re dead!’ he sobbed. He put his hands up to cover his eyes. ‘Everyone knows you’re dead!’

Lamp in hand, dressed in his favourite black, Priscus stepped out and flashed me a happy smile. ‘In a manner of speaking, I
am
dead,’ he answered. ‘Be assured, though, I’ve never felt better.’ He looked at Samo and spoke Latin. ‘Bring him through,’ he said. ‘Keep tight hold of his shoulders. People often try to bash their heads in at times like this and we can’t have that – can we, now?’ He chuckled and held the lamp against a face that he’d painted all over with white lead.

The stairs led to a room below what I’d always taken to be the lowest level of cellars in my palace. For this reason, it was still as filthy as everything else had been when I took over from Priscus. For this reason also, it was still fitted out with the instruments of his favourite recreation.

‘Don’t worry that pretty young head of yours, Alaric,’ he said in Latin. ‘Torture is hardly ever for its own sake. I don’t think we’ll need any
physical
nastiness here.’ He went back into Greek and waved at Leander. ‘Hold the lamp closer to the traitor’s face,’ he cried grimly. ‘Let everyone see the infamy stamped upon it.’

Priscus sat in a chair padded with cushions the damp had long since rotted. He took a long sip of wine. ‘Eunapius,’ he asked in his friendly voice, ‘do you remember that time when Phocas the Tyrant was Emperor and I marched into your father’s house with a dozen of my Black Officers?’ Eunapius sagged forward, but was held tight in Samo’s massive arms. Priscus smiled and took another long sip. He tapped his forehead and smiled. ‘But how could you forget that day?’ he asked. ‘It was you who denounced your father for not cleaning a graffito promptly enough from the outer wall of his palace. It was all very embarrassing. I was drugged out of my head and arrived under the impression that your brother was the man I wanted. Anyway, do you remember what I did to young Stephen once I had him tied down naked on his bed? Do you remember how he squealed like a dying pig and how your mother fell dead from the horror of what I did? You should do. After all, you got back five-sevenths of the estate when Phocas confiscated it, and didn’t have to share it with an inconveniently elder brother.

‘Now, would you like me to do to you what I did to poor Stephen? Or shall we be civilised men of the world? Look at that nice clean sheet of papyrus our poet has brought down with him. One way or another, we all know, it will soon be covered with every answer that young Alaric wants. Shall I pour you a cup of this lovely red wine? It might help the distressing hoarseness that I shan’t blame your voice for having acquired?’

Eunapius let out a loud fart before shitting himself. The cold air took on a smell of inward bodily decay. ‘Don’t let him touch me, Alaric!’ he shouted. He twisted to get free of Samo and managed half a step in my direction. ‘I’ll tell you everything.’

‘That’s the spirit!’ Priscus cried. At his little desk, Leander controlled his hands sufficiently to lift a pen.

Eunapius ran his tongue over dry lips. ‘Before I say anything, though,’ be babbled, ‘I want Alaric to swear that I’ll walk out of here alive and that I shan’t be harmed in any way. I’ll tell you where Shahin’s taken the girl. I’ll tell you what he’s planning with the magic cup. But I want Alaric’s spoken promise in front of you all.’

Priscus frowned and got slowly up from his chair. He went across to a filthy curtain and pulled it down to show an old cartwheel fixed to the wall. He nodded to Samo, who dragged Eunapius round to see it. ‘Silly young Alaric is no longer in charge of this interrogation,’ he said in a voice I well recalled from his days of glory. ‘You had your chance. We’re now following
my
rules.’

Priscus sat down again. He sipped delicately at his wine. ‘Did you ever watch a man broken on the wheel?’ he asked. ‘I don’t suppose you’ve had that pleasure. Even old Phocas had limits to what he’d let me do in public. But I’ve seen it done quite often by the Avars when they want to make an example of one of their prisoners. It’s ever so cheap and simple, you see. Even barbarians can’t mess it up.’ He got up, wine cup still in his hand. He walked slowly over to the wheel. ‘See these straps here?’ he asked. ‘The purpose is to spread you naked on the wheel, arms and legs apart. Once you’re in place, that drunken ox of a freedman will take up the hammer that you should be able to see just beside the wheel. He’ll start by smashing your ankles – one or two blows on the bones of greatest sensitivity. If that doesn’t loosen your tongue, he’ll move to your wrists, and then your knees and elbows. Your hips and shoulders will be the final horror.

‘And, Eunapius, don’t suppose it will be other than horrible. Forget burning alive, or hooked gloves, or even the bite of a starved hyena. Breaking on the wheel produces the most staggering and continuous pain. And you might last for days down here in the darkness. So long as the barbarian doesn’t break the skin, your limbs will swell up like inflated bladders and you’ll keep enough blood elsewhere to stay alive. I remember one time – it was during the great siege of Mantella, you know – when the Avars somehow laid hands on my commanding officer. Using a screen of women and children to put our archers off, they broke him a hundred yards outside the city wall.’ Priscus paused for dramatic effect. He drank more wine. ‘In no time at all, I saw a battle-hardened veteran turned into a sort of huge screaming puppet writhing in rivulets of blood – a puppet with four tentacles, like a sea monster, of raw, slimy and shapeless flesh mixed up with splinters of smashed bones. He was luckier than you’ll be: he lost enough blood to die before the afternoon was out.’ He stopped again for wine and burst into helpless giggles.