Crispin stepped reflexively back towards the table with the rose as the door opened. Alixana stood not far away, imperious, for all the intimacy of her appearance. It did occur to him that whoever this was it could hardly be an intruder, else they’d not have gained entry into this palace, let alone caused the guards to tap on the door so late at night.
The woman stepped back a little and a man entered the room behind her, though only a pace or two. He cradled a small ivory box in both hands. He handed it to Crysomallo, and then, turning towards the Empress, performed a full court obeisance, head touching the floor three times. Crispin wasn’t certain, but he had a sense that such ceremony was excessive here, exaggerated. When the visitor finally straightened and then stood at Alixana’s gesture, Crispin recognized him: the lean, narrow-faced man who’d been standing behind the Strategos Leontes in the audience chamber.
‘You are a late visitor, secretary. Could this be a personal gift from you, or has Leontes something private he wishes said?’ The Empress’s tone was difficult to read: perfectly courteous, but no more than that.
‘His lady wife does, thrice-exalted. I bring a small gift from Styliane Daleina to her thrice-revered and beloved Empress. She would be honoured beyond her worth should you deign to accept it.’ The man looked quickly around as he finished speaking, and Crispin had the distinct sense that the secretary was memorizing the room. He could not miss the Empress’s unbound hair, or the privacy of this situation. Clearly, Alixana did not care in the least. Crispin wondered, again, what game he’d become a small piece in, how he was being deployed now and to what end.
The Empress nodded at Crysomallo, who unclasped a golden latch on the box and opened it. The woman was unable to hide her astonishment. She held up the object within. The small gift. There was a silence.
‘Oh, dear,’ said the Empress of Sarantium softly. ‘I have lost a wager.’
‘My lady?’ The secretary’s brow furrowed. It was not what he’d expected to hear.
‘Never mind. Tell the Lady Styliane we are pleased with her gesture and by the . . . celerity with which she chose to send it to us, keeping a hard-working scribe awake so late at night as a messenger. You may go.’
That was all. Courtesy, crispness, a dismissal. Crispin was still trying to absorb the fact that the staggeringly opulent pearl necklace he’d seen on Styliane Daleina-the one he’d drawn unwanted attention to-had just been presented to the Empress. The worth of it was past his ability even to imagine. He had a certainty, though-an absolute conviction-that had he not spoken as he had, earlier, this would not have happened.
‘Thank you, most gracious lady. I shall hasten to relay your kind words. Had I known I might be interrupting
‘Come, Pertennius. She knew you would interrupt and so did you. You both heard me summon the Rhodian in the throne room.’
The man fell silent, his eyes dropped to the floor. He swallowed awkwardly. It was oddly pleasant, Crispin realized, to see someone else being discomfited by Alixana of Sarantium.
‘I thought… my lady. She thought .. . you might’
‘Pertennius, poor man. You’ll do better going with Leontes to battlefields and writing about cavalry charges. Go to bed. Tell Styliane I am happy to accept her gift and that the Rhodian was indeed still with me, as she wished him to be, to see her make a gift that outstripped the one he offered her. You may also tell her,’ added the Empress, ‘that my hair still reaches the small of my back, unbound.’ She turned deliberately, as if to let the secretary see, and walked over to the table where the wine flask stood. She picked up the cup Valerius had set down.
Crysomallo opened the door. In the instant before the man named Pertennius-where had he heard that name today?-turned to leave, Crispin saw something flash in his eyes and as quickly disappear as the man repeated his full obeisance and then withdrew.
Alixana did not turn around until the door closed.