A Burning Sea by Theodore Brun (i am reading a book txt) 📕

a welcome guest in this palace. Please treat it as your own.’

‘You are very kind, Majesty.’ Leo had already half-turned away when she added, ‘There is one other request I have to ask of you, which is certainly in your power to grant.’

Leo turned back with a rustle of purple silk. ‘Go on.’

‘There is a countryman of mine in this city. I understand he serves a general named Arbasdos.’

‘I know Arbasdos. But nothing of this man. What is he to you?’

A good question. What was Erlan to her? She hardly knew herself. ‘He is important to me,’ she said.

‘Important?’ Leo peered at her carefully, then laughed. ‘By the saints, look at her, Lord Chamberlain! I feel almost envious of this man.’

‘He was a warrior who served my father,’ continued Lilla. ‘I have need of him myself now.’

‘He must be an impressive man indeed if you came all this distance for him.’

‘I came to seek an audience with you, Majesty. When I learned that this man also had come to Byzantium, I resolved to find him.’

Leo turned to Katāros. ‘Do you know of this man?’

Katāros’s shadowed eyes shifted between them. ‘I have heard something,’ he answered in Greek. Lilla listened as the emperor spoke with his official, picking up only one word. Doúlos. At last the chamberlain addressed her directly. ‘I believe the man you seek is a slave in the general’s household. I have heard he is a warrior of formidable skill. And. . .’ He paused, seeming reluctant to continue.

‘And?’

‘I understand he is being held in very poor conditions.’

‘He belongs in my service,’ she replied quickly before her imagination flew too far. She turned to the emperor. ‘I implore you, Majesty, to have him released at once and brought to me.’

When Katāros relayed this to Leo, the emperor laughed. ‘Alas, there are some things even an emperor cannot do. Whatever is the price of this man’s freedom, it is between you and the strategos.’

The door in the north-west apse suddenly flew open and a palace guard marched in, his steps clicking briskly on the marble surface. He wasted no time presenting himself to the emperor. As Leo began interrogating him Katāros glided over to her.

‘The audience is at an end, my lady.’

‘What happened?’ she said.

‘It seems an envoy from the Arab Prince Maslama is here. The emperor must see him at once.’ He touched her elbow and turned her to the massive double doors. ‘Be patient, Queen Lilla.

If you seek this man, I can take you to Arbasdos.’

‘When?’

‘Soon,’ he said, already ushering her from the golden hall. ‘Soon.’

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

When the Sveär queen was gone, Katāros returned to his post beside the emperor. Leo had meanwhile dismissed all but two of the excubitors – the so-called ‘sentinels’ who guarded the imperial palace. Even these he posted outside the hall. It seemed the emperor trusted no one but him – poor fool – and wanted no other ears to overhear his conversation with Prince Maslama’s envoy.

When he was presently shown in, the man introduced himself as Abdullah Abu Yahya al-Antaqi al-Battal.

‘An honourable name for a young man,’ replied the emperor in Arabic. It was the language of his childhood, Katāros knew, and he spoke it like a native. ‘I hope you don’t expect me to use it each time I address you.’

‘Abdal-Battal will suffice, Majesty,’ said the envoy stiffly. He was young but Leo would not make the mistake of underestimating him for that. If Maslama thought the man capable of representing him, then no doubt he was. Either that or else wealth had secured him this honour since he was clearly rich. His dark green tunic and armour were expensive, his black beard oiled to a sharp point and his long black hair pushed back with a band of scarlet silk.

‘You bear a message from your prince,’ said Leo.

The envoy’s light brown eyes narrowed. ‘Prince Maslama offers you his highest regards. And he wishes to remind Your Majesty of the agreement struck before your rise to the imperial throne.’

Katāros’s ears pricked at this. An agreement? The first he had heard of this.

‘Go on,’ said Leo.

‘The time to honour your pledge has come. Throw open your gates. Hand over the city, and Allah will be merciful to you.’

‘The terms of our agreement were specific. Did he tell you? Maslama guaranteed the life and property of all in the Imperial City.’

‘My lord is happy to repeat his assurance. Open the gates and all shall be—’

‘He also promised he would support me in retaining my position over the city and its provinces, if I were to accept the suzerainty of his brother, the Caliph Sulayman.’

‘So I understand. And do you, Majesty?’ The barb in the envoy’s question was unmistakable.

‘How can I if your prince insists on undermining my standing?’

‘I do not follow, Majesty.’

‘What chance have I of keeping this throne if your master believes he can simply throw down his lines before our gates and demand that I hand over the keys to the city?’

Abdal-Battal gave a soft grunt of mirth. ‘Majesty. You have seen our numbers. Today we control most of Anatolia and half of Thrace. The empire is already ours. We could take this city by storm, if we so chose. But in such circumstances, life and property would no longer be assured. Bloodshed, plunder, destruction. These are all your people could expect.’

Leo let his soldier’s gaze sit heavily on the envoy for a few seconds. ‘Muawiya, the first caliph of the House of Umayya, was inflated with this same conceit. He tried and failed to force the walls of this city – his dream died with him. For five years the walls stood. They will stand for another five if I choose. Your master’s shame, on the other hand, will stand for ever.’

Seeing he had riled the emperor, the young envoy had tact enough to recede. He bowed his head. ‘Majesty.’

‘Tell your master, he shall have his keys and our allegiance. But he must be patient.