Siege of Heaven by Tom Harper Page A

throne, blocking out the light like a cloud covering the sun.
    ‘Who does he wish to make this alliance against?’
    Bilal’s voice was louder than the caliph’s, and the vaulted roof spun his words about so that they seemed to come from all around us.
    ‘Against the Turks of Palestine.’
    A great agitation spread through the crowd of courtiers, as though the surrounding forest had come alive in a breeze. The caliph let it build unchecked for a few moments, then hushed it with an unseen gesture.
    ‘I have heard rumours of a mighty Christian army,’ he announced. ‘Not Greeks or Rum , but Franj . What do you know of them?’
    ‘They have come from the west to liberate the holy city of Jerusalem.’
    ‘They are the emperor’s mercenaries?’
    Nikephoros hesitated. ‘His allies.’
    The caliph sat down, and let the full radiance of the invisible sun bathe his face. If I squinted, I could just make out his face beneath a white turban. His features were soft, though held fast by a furious effort of concentration. As I had thought, he seemed very young – not much past twenty.
    ‘If the emperor Alexios has so many allies, why does he seek our help?’
    ‘Because we have a common enemy.’ Nikephoros rocked forward on his knees, and I wondered if they were beginning to ache as much as mine. Perhaps that was why diplomats wore such thick robes. ‘Because the Turks have stolen their land equally from both of us. Our army is poised at Antioch to strike south; if the Fatimids could come up from Egypt, we would crush them between us.’
    This time there was no murmuring from the crowd. All waited to see what the caliph would say.
    ‘It is easy to speak of crushing the Turks – and far harder to achieve it. They have the full power of the court of Baghdad behind them.’
    ‘And we have broken it,’ said Nikephoros urgently. ‘You have heard of Kerbogha the Terrible? Two months ago the Franks routed him in battle at Antioch. Palestine is open for the taking.’
    The caliph’s face remained impassive – too impassive, I felt, for someone hearing this news for the first time.
    ‘If Palestine is laid open, why not take it yourself? Does the emperor always seek allies in victory?’
    ‘All Christians should abhor war and unnecessary killing – as indeed do faithful Muslims.’
    ‘ Fight in God’s cause against those who fight you, but do not overreach yourself, for that is hateful to God ,’ the caliph murmured.
    ‘The stronger our army, the less we will have to use it.’
    ‘But how, then, will you reward your allies?’
    There was an undisguised sharpness in the question. Nikephoros considered his answer carefully.
    ‘The emperor has no claim on Palestine. The Frankish army want only Jerusalem, and enough land about it to sustain themselves. For the rest, as much as we conquer can be yours.’
    The caliph clasped his hands together and pressed them against his chin. He looked down on us from his height, while the crowded nobles around us craned forward. I could not look at the caliph: my eyes ached from the nimbus of light that surrounded him, and the heavy robes pressed down on me like lead.
    ‘The emperor’s friendship is a prize for any man,’ he declared. ‘But an alliance for war cannot be entered into lightly or in haste. I will think on your proposal, and give you my answer as soon as it is decided. In the meantime, you will stay in the palace. As . . .’ There was a pause in the translation as Bilal – unusually – struggled to find a word.
    ‘As my guests.’
    ‘How was the audience?’ asked Aelfric.
    I unpeeled my borrowed robe and threw it over a wooden stool. In the adjacent room, I could see Nikephoros’ slaves pulling off his opulent lorum and dalmatica, leaving only a loose white smock beneath. I was desperate to release some of the tension of the audience, but it was not easy with a company of Bilal’s African guards stationed outside our door. And my head still ached.
    I shrugged.