‘Thibor. . . Ferenczy, aye.’
Again he nodded. ‘You — Wamphyri!’
I began to shake my head in denial, then stopped. His eyes were boring into mine. He knew. And so did I, for certain now. ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Wamphyri.’
He drew breath sharply, let it out slow. Then: ‘Where will you go, Thibor the Wallach, son of Old One?’
‘Tomorrow I go to Kiev,’ I answered grimly. ‘I’ve business there. After that, home.’
‘Business?’ He laughed a cackling laugh. ‘Ah, business!’
He released my arm, grew serious. ‘I too go Wallachia. Many Szgany there. You need Szgany. I find you there.’
‘Good!’ I said.
He backed away, turned and went back into his hut.
We came out of the forest into Kiev in the evening, and I found a place on the outskirts to rest and buy a skin of wine. I sent four of my five into the city. Soon they began return, bringing with them prominent members of my peasant army — what was left of it. Half had been lured away by Vladimir and were off campaigning against the I’echenegi, the rest remained faithful; then had gone into hiding and waited for me.
There were only a handful of the Vlad’s soldiers in the city; even the palace guard were away fighting. The prince tad only a score of men, his personal bodyguard, at court. That was part of the news, and this was the rest: that tonight there was to be a small banquet at the palace in honour of some boot-licking Boyar. I invited myself along.
I arrived at the palace alone, or that is the way it must have appeared. I strode through the gardens to the sound of laughter and merrymaking from the great hail. Men at arms barred my way, and I paused and looked at them. Who goes there?’ a guardsmaster challenged me.
I showed myself. ‘Thibor of Wallachia, the Prince’s Voevod. He sent me on a mission, and now I am returned.’ Along the way I had walked in mire, deliberately. The last time I was here, the Vlad had commanded that I come in my finery, unweaponed, all bathed and shining. Now I was weighed down with arms; I was unshaven, dirty, and my forelocks all awry. I stank worse than a peasant, and was glad of it.
You’d go in there like that?’ The Guardsmaster was
astonished. He wrinkled his nose. ‘Man, wash yourself, put on fresh robes, cast off your weapons!’
I glowered at him. ‘Your name?’
‘What?’ He stepped a pace to the rear.
‘For the Prince. He’ll have the balls of any man who impedes me this night. And if you’ve none of those, he’ll have your head instead! Don’t you remember me? Last time I came it was to a church, and I brought a sack of thumbs.’ I showed him my leather sack.
He went pale. ‘I remember now. I . . . I’ll announce you. Wait here.’
I grabbed his arm, dragged him close. I showed him my teeth in a wolf’s grin and hissed through them, ‘No, you wait here!’
A dozen of my men stepped out of the trees, held cautionary fingers to their lips, and bundled the Guards-master and his men away.
I went on, entering the palace and the great hall unimpeded. Oh, true, a pair of royal bully-boy bodyguards closed on me at the door, but I thrust them aside so hard they almost fell, and by the time they were organised I was among the revellers. I strode to the centre of the floor. I stood stock still, then slowly turned and gazed all about from under lowered brows. The noise subsided. There came an uneasy silence. Somewhere a lady laughed, a titter which was quickly stilled.
Then the crowd fell away from me. Several ladies looked fit to faint. I smelled of ordure, which to my nostrils was fresh and clean compared to the scents of this court.
The crowd parted, and there sat the Prince at a table laden with food and drink. His face wore a frozen smile, which fell from it like a leaden mask when he saw me. And at last he recognised me. He straightened to his feet. ‘You!’