“Lucca,” I added, “is one of the most dangerous and intelligent fighting men whom I have met. The cost of taking a position he holds would far outweigh its value. Especially as the Comtesse would find the Byzantine position her own, in most cases.”
“Tell me, Druid”—Andronicus spoke lightly—”is it true that you can see the future? The ancient ones, it is said, could do so. Are you one of these?”
“We were trained in the method, and there is a method. It is one I have never attempted.”
He was silent for several minutes, watching the others. Bardas sat across the room, looking his hatred. “Are you not curious?”
“Who is not? But I would rather try to mold my destiny, to shape it with these”—I lifted my hands—”for we believe a man’s destiny may be many things, although a way is prescribed, a man may change. It is interesting that so few do change.”
“Could you read my destiny, Druid?”
Phillip was conversing with two men, not far from Bardas. Bardas said something aloud that I could not hear, but Phillip flushed. “Bardas,” I said, “is a fool. He is now trying to start trouble with my friend.”
Andronicus shrugged. “Bardas is my friend.”
“And Phillip is mine.”
He looked at me, his eyes utterly cold. “Is it important to be the friend of Kerbouchard? Or of Andronicus?”
“To Kerbouchard,” I replied coolly, “it is more important to be the friend of Kerbouchard.”
His manner changed. “If there is trouble, you will not interfere. That is my order.”
Rising, I stood over him. “You must excuse me then; Phillip and I are leaving.”
He made no answer, and catching Phillip’s eye, I indicated the door with an inclination of my head. With an expression of genuine relief he started to join me. As he did so, Bardas leaped to his feet, his face flushed with anger.
“Go, then, you bitch whelp, I—” He sprang after us and was within reach. I backhanded him across the mouth, splitting his lips and showering him with blood. Knocked to a sitting position, he put his hand to his mouth and stared at the blood.
Andronicus had risen. He gestured to several soldiers. “Take him!” he ordered. “And throw him into the street!” He indicated Phillip. “And that one also!”
With a manner of utter disdain he started to turn away.
Suddenly, sword in hand and facing the soldiers, prepared to die rather than be thrown out, something happened to me that had never happened before.
Before me was a vision, so stark and horrible that I was shocked. In my terrible rage, this had come. Was it truly prevision? Or a wish born of anger?
My expression stopped the soldiers, even Andronicus paused. “What is it? What has happened?”
“You asked for your future. I have seen it.”
He came to me, his eyes hot and eager. “What is it? What did you see? Tell me!”
“You wish to know? It is something I would offer no man of my own volition.”
“Tell me.”
“I saw a body with your face, a living body being torn by the mob. Some were beating or stabbing you with sticks; some pushed dung into your nostrils and mouth; some thrust spits between your ribs, and a woman dumped boiling water in your face. Still living, you were hung head down from a beam between two poles in the Hippodrome, and then a spectator ran a sword into your mouth and upward into your body!”
“Was I emperor at the time?”
“Yes,” I replied, “you were emperor.”
“Then it was worth it,” he said, and walked away from me.
47
How still the night! How pure the gold of the crescent moon above the dark waters of the Golden Horn! How bright were the distant stars! Around me were lapping waters in the dark, shadowed hulls of the boats, the mutter of sleeping men.
Nothing moved, nothing stirred, only the water, only the soft wind blowing in from over Asia. Empty eyes where distant windows had been bright, staring, lidless eyes open to the night, and I, alone, wrapped in the folds of a dark cloak, waiting.
Constantinople slept; the Byzantine Empire slept beside its beautiful waters, secure, strong, playing one barbarian folk against another, moving them like pieces on a chessboard, watching with bored amusement from heavy-lidded eyes.
Tonight was to be my last in Constantinople. As in so many other places, I had been but a passerby. Arriving a beggar, I left a friend of the emperor, the enemy of his cousin. Gold lined the belt about my waist. Gold was in the pockets of my sash; gold was concealed elsewhere about me. My horses were aboard my hired boat, my few possessions there also. Only an hour separated me from my leavetaking.
Before me and across the Black Sea lay Trebizond. Beyond lay the mountains that fringe the Caspian Sea on the south and east, and high in those remote Elburz Mountains were the Valley of the Assassins and the fortress of Alamut.
The night was cool. Lances of light lay on the dark water; the boats tugged at their hawsers. Under my dark cloak I felt for the handle of my sword. As I left the house of Andronicus Comnenus, something had been tucked into my hand.
Turning quickly, I had seen nothing but bland, watchful eyes, no one familiar, no one who might have given whatever it was to me. Our sedan chair had awaited, but I took Phillip by the shoulder, and we fled down a dark street, swiftly skirting the Hippodrome. Neither of us was a fool, and we had made a deadly enemy of Bardas. When we finally slowed to a walk in the Street of the Spices, I warned him, “You had best leave town with me. They will kill you now.”
“Where would I go? This city is my home, my life. I know no other place.”
“If you prefer the view from Eyoub.” I shrugged. Eyoub was the cemetery overlooking the Golden Horn. “Look,” I told him, “they will be searching for us together. I shall go the way I’ve planned, but do you go to Castle Saone. Tell the Comtesse de Malcrais and Lucca that I sent you.”
“Perhaps … yes, I must. I was trained in weapons and the fighting of wars but have done none of it. I was also taught the administration of estates.”
A Levantine, for a price, had taken my horses aboard. At midnight we would sail. In the room at the house of Phillip I glanced at the note slipped into my hand at the house of Andronicus.
Go not to Alamut! It means your death. S.
It was written in the flowing hand of Safia, in the Persian tongue.
Go not to Alamut … had I a choice? Was it not my destiny to go to Alamut? What had these years meant to me but a preparation for Alamut?
A warning from Safia, who knew me well, indicated how desperately she feared what awaited me there. Safia did not fear lightly, nor did I. Hence, whatever was there to be feared was something worth fearing.
Shadows detached themselves from shadows; shadows moved toward me, and there was a vague shine of mail. If one must die, what better place than on the wharves of the Golden Horn in the light of a golden moon?
My blade was a finger of steel, lifting …
“No, Kerbouchard, we have come to see you safely away.”
Odric stepped from the darkness, a dozen men behind him. “The Emperor ordered it, although we ourselves planned to come.”
Men of the Varangian Guard, men of the north country. Odric’s father, too, had been a corsair. “You are a bold man, so our Emperor loves you. He bade me say that if you come this way again, there is a place for you at his side.”
“Had he heard of tonight?”
“Of course. All Byzantines have spies, and every Byzantine is himself a spy. Everyone intrigues against everyone else. It is the sport of Byzantium; it is their game.”
Aboard the boat Odric faced the Levantine shipmaster. “Do you know me?”
“I have seen you,” the Levantine said sullenly.
“Deliver this man safely to Trebizond, or cut your own throat and sink your vessel. If he arrives not safely, we shall hunt you down and feed you, in small pieces, to the dogs. Do you understand?”
Tonight I was clad in a coat of mail covered by a tunic of light woolen cloth with embroidery at the edges. On my legs were hose covered by soft boots, and I wore a semicircular cloak clasped in front with a fibula. My cloak was of black, my tunic and hose were of maroon.
Our boat slipped quietly from the wharf and down the Horn to the stronger waters of the Bosphorus. The breeze was fresh and cool upon my face. Moving astern, I paused beside the Levantine. “It has a good feel,” I said. “I was born to a ship’s deck.”