Terror of Constantinople by Richard Blake Page B

in Celtic, ‘you must never do anything like that again. Even when I was last here, when Maurice was Emperor, the Black Agents frightened everyone, high or low. Now, they’re out of control. You didn’t see how Theophanes had to bargain with them to get me off that rack. If you see another arrest like last night, you must look the other way . Whoever they come to take is already one with the dead! He does not exist. Soon, he will never have existed.’
        I patted his arm. ‘I’m sorry, Martin,’ I said. ‘I will be more careful. Perhaps, in future, we might be a little quicker to produce that permit from Theophanes.’
        Martin fixed me in the eye. ‘Aelric,’ he said, ‘I want you to know that they tied me to the rack after they had seen the permit. And they were joking about what to do with you when the old eunuch arrived. He had to keep on and on repeating that, contrary to any other orders they might be issued, we were under the Highest Protection.’
        I kept a look of renewed jitters off my face and told Martin he should get some more natural rest. As I turned to leave, he tugged gently at my sleeve.
        ‘And please don’t carry that knife with you,’ he said. ‘It’s treason to go armed in the city without a permit.’
     
    I did now make an attempt to see the Permanent Legate. His own rooms, I’d guessed, could be approached from a door in the main hall of the Legation opposite the entrance to my own suite.
        My hand almost on the door to the Permanent Legate’s suite, I was stopped by Demetrius.
        ‘And where might Sir be going?’ he asked in an obsequious but firm tone.
        ‘Oh,’ I said, trying to sound nonchalant, ‘I’m just going to pay my respects to His Excellency.’
        ‘I don’t think, sir, that would be appropriate,’ Demetrius answered, positioning himself between me and the door. ‘His Excellency is a busy man, and will call those to him only such as is needed, and when they be needed.’
        ‘I have messages from His Holiness in Rome,’ I lied.
        I got in response only a nasty squint. Demetrius then produced a key from his robe to pull back and forth in the door lock until a click told me that whatever lay beyond was off-limits.
        ‘His Excellency,’ he sniffed before walking off about his business, ‘will call on such as he wants and when he wants.’
        So much for that.
     
    I sat behind my desk and looked at the icons of Saint Peter and Saint Andrew that hung on the wall opposite. I thought for a moment of writing to the Dispensator, but immediately decided otherwise. If all my incoming post was read, Theophanes – I supposed he was in charge of this – would be neglecting his duties if he allowed outgoing post not to be similarly inspected.
        Instead, I began a long letter back to Gretel in Rome.
        I told her about the shops and the crowds and the great buildings. She’d understand all this when it was read out to her. I could even see her in my mind’s eye, clapping her hands and having the description of the shops read over and over again. She’d love the idea of glazed windows lit with lamps. She’d then dictate a long letter of her own that was little more than a shopping list.
        I didn’t think it a shame that I’d be on my way home before it arrived.
        I said nothing about the arrest. As I finished, the sky outside was turning dull with the approach of evening, and a draught from the window gently rustled the sheets of papyrus. Made almost happy by their less than truthful content, I rolled them up and sealed them into a small leather bag that would protect them on whatever voyage they eventually took back to Rome. I made sure to mark the attached tag for the attention of Marcella.
        ‘Authari,’ I called loudly. ‘Ah, there you are, Authari,’ I said, pretending not to notice how close he’d been. ‘Is everything in order for you and the other slaves to have a good